SETTLING INTO DAILY KIWI LIFE
It's starting to settle in now. I LIVE in New Zealand. And I'm completely settled with that decision. The quality of life here in "Aotearoa" is actually pretty good. There's something in the air here. People just aren't fussed too much about things. The vibe I get is one of complete relaxation. There's plenty of room to breath without feeling like someone's always looking over your shoulder. What a stark contrast coming from Southern California to what could quite literally equate to a 1950s Leave It To Beaver episode.
In some ways things are less expensive and other ways more so. The rent for the house I'll be living in will come out to approximately $330 to $360 per month, give or take. But then if you do the conversion on fuel prices, you're looking at about $3.70 for a gallon of regular unleaded. I think I'd rather take the cheap rent instead!
Speaking of cars and apartments, lining up both was a frustrating exercise in futility. Bob's been a COMPLETE legend by allowing me to use his truck to seek out cars and places to live. Another humble THANKS MATE!! I drove into the Wellington CBD last week with the intention of visiting the car dealerships. Well, I walked around and soon realized that most used cars worth buying start out at around $8000 NZD and go up from there. I came to learn that New Zealand imports boatloads of very low km cars and trucks from Japan. This, for some reason, has pushed the less expensive used car market out the window. I wasn't looking for anything extravagant; perhaps something like a John Deere riding mower would have been sufficient for my purposes.
The next problem was getting cash from my American bank account over to New Zealand without getting reamed. I set up a Bank of America account before leaving since they have a reciprocity agreement with Westpac Bank of New Zealand. In short, I can take cash out of the ATM without any international withdrawal fees. Sounds great but then I soon learned I can only take out about $340 USD per day!! At that rate, there was no way I was going to have enough for a car any time soon. It probably did me a favor though since I had to balk and walk away from the more expensive cars.
I was beginning to feel the frustration of having to borrow a car. I don't like to bother anyone if I can do it on my own, but being in the quaint but distant community of Paekakariki I really had no choice. One day Bob and Verena came home from an afternoon walk and said, "hey, we found your car!!" One of the neighbors down the road had a 1996 Toyota Corolla G-Touring wagon for sale with 107,000km (66000 miles) on it. I immediately walked over, knocked on the door, and took it for a test drive. Ran like a charm and felt like a good fit. It's got EVERYTHING I was looking for. It's a 4WD, manual, 1500cc, 4 cylinder. Perfect. Good for fuel economy, yet with space for the surfboards and camping gear. I gave her $100 on the spot as a deposit and gesture of intent to buy.
Only problem with the situation is that I couldn't get enough cash out of my US accounts over to NZ in a timely manner. The fun was only just beginning. I thought of doing a cash advance on my credit card but those are almost always a bad idea because they automatically charge 3% on the amount for an "international transaction fee" plus the extortionate interest rate.
WANK OF AMERICAI tried to arrange a wire transfer from the US to NZ but that completely flopped when the collective ignorami that form the corporate entity known as Bank of America expectedly blew the whole thing. I think a more appropriate moniker would be WANK of America since that is about all they're capable of doing in lieu of anything that would closely resemble a professional job. Furthermore, the bunch of WANKers will offer a crappy exchange rate and then charge a bunch of other extraneous "disservice" charges for sending and receiving. In short, there's no way to beat the organized criminals that govern the banking institutions. They're quick to take your money but are having none of it when it comes time to give it back to you, for a small fee, of course.
In the era of out-of-control banks that have lost sight of quality customer service, I posit the idea of charging banks a "handling fee" to take my money. For example, I walk into a bank with the intention of depositing $1000 into my account. As the teller motions to take my money, I coldly and impersonally pull the cash back and inform this person that I will hand over the money after I charge my usual "handling fee" of 5%. After all, I had to physically drive to the bank, park my car, walk into the bank, fill out the deposit slip, wait in line, AND deal with a LIVE teller. This all costs me money, so because I'm doing the bank the favor of giving them my money, I must charge this fee for my efforts. So I take $50 back and put that in my pocket. My actual deposited amount is $950, but the dollar amount credited to my account is actually $1000. THAT'S how it should work. Short of that, I'm going to start stuffing my cash in the mattress.
CITIWANKAfter the wire failed, I decided to bend over, grab ankles, and take it on the credit card. I called three different NZ banks to make sure there would be no problems with doing a cash advance the following day. Then I called my friends at Citibank who've always been there for me in the past when I most needed them—to hold my head under water while gasping for air. I told the "customer disservice" rep that I was physically IN New Zealand and that I was going to be doing a cash advance for approximately $3500 USD. I asked him to remove any block that may occur when I went to the bank AND to place a note in the computer to this effect. This call took place ONE hour before leaving for the bank. All was in order. Or so I thought.
I arrived to the Bank of New Zealand, walked in with three forms of ID in hand, ready to do what, by all accounts, should have been a simple transaction. She swiped the card. DECLINED!!!!! I told her I'd just called the bank and that this must have been a mistake. She said, "well, that's what it said." She told me I could speak to the lady that works at the information desk and perhaps I could use her phone to call the credit card company. I went over to the desk and soon realized that perhaps the crabbiest Kiwi actually works at the info desk at Bank of New Zealand. She did NOT want to let me use the phone, rudely stating that if any other customers came in behind me that I'd have to hang up. "Oh, please ma'am, can I beg you to kick me a little harder in the nuts? No, that wasn't hard enough. Why don't you put on your steel-toed boots and I'll drop my pants. I'll even give you a running start for good measure!! In order to call Citibank, I had to call a NZ operator to assist with the transfer. It rang, and rang, and rang, and rang some more. No one answered.
Meanwhile the girl selling me the car sat idly to the side, wondering, like me, if the deal was even going to happen. I went to another teller who tried the card again. Declined. I fortunately brought my other Citibank credit card which, like the first one, was promptly denied. After wrangling and wrestling with the soft-cock wankers that call themselves Citibank, I was able to get the transaction to go through. I physically had to get on the phone on two occasions to verify my identity. Needless to say, there was no record whatsoever that I'd called, nor were there any notes on my account stating that I was in NZ and would be doing a cash advance.
The car deal went through and we transferred everything over to my name within 10 minutes. But as far as I was concerned, the CitiWANK episode was VERY far from over. Why even bother having a cash advance limit if they're only going to deny it by default? This was a clear case of abject breach of customer service and I was not going to walk around all day until I gave CitiWANK a piece of my mind.
I called them when I got home and proceeded to tell the tale to one customer "service" rep after another. No one would break ranks and admit that they'd screwed me. In typical politician/big business fashion, NEVER admit wrongdoing. Deny it to the end. The customer is always wrong. A new customer is born every second. They're expendable. This treatment only served to infuriate me even more. Finally, I had them transfer me over to the CitiBusiness side of things. I had to use that card when the first one was declined. I told the story…..AGAIN, only this time, I had an agent that wasn't quite so bright. He actually exhibited a minor shred of empathy and admitted that I was wronged—"well yeah, if you called before going to the bank, it should have gone through" he confessed. He transferred me to a "supervisor" who, in turn, proceeded to be more of an impediment than a help. I finally got her to wave the interest rate after that was all said and done. I am currently following up with a letter to CitiWANK including the CEO's office, not only for the embarrassing display at the bank but for the subsequent lack of sensitivity and unwillingness to remedy the situation.
HOME SWEET GRUNGY HOMEBob and Verena forewarned me that many homes in Wellington are rather old, grungy, and you get what you pay for (or less). I looked at a variety of places up here on the Kapiti Coast and in the Wellington CBD, to no avail. Most roommate situations here are young 20-somethings who could really do with a few remedial cleaning lessons with mom—nor was I particularly endeared by the mix and match furniture complete with snarf stains all over it.
None of the places felt like "home" until I came across an advertisement for a place in Pukerua Bay. A girl named Rachel just bought the house and was looking for a professional to share the living arrangements and cut down on her mortgage rate. I checked it out and it's a go. I move in tomorrow (Friday 1 December). It's a spacious house with a view of the Tasman Sea. It's not ocean front but it does get a fair bit of sunlight. It's got a view of the valley out the east-facing window, which means nice bright light in the morning. The back side of the house is west-facing with a rather steep grade back yard, which means it gets sun and is blocked by the strong onshore winds in the afternoon. This translates to a warmer house come winter season.
LOOKING FORWARD
I am still positively thrilled about being in New Zealand. I will admit I'm a little out of sorts being that I've only recently arrived and am getting up and on even keel. I need to get back in the gym and get on my regular routine. I need to change my student visa to a student/work visa so I can legally get paid. I'll be doing the literature review for my PhD beginning next week and the paperwork for submission to the university human subjects committee.
It's all about looking forward from here. I am focusing on what's in front of me and not looking back. I'm living in the moment and not losing sight of why I came to New Zealand. I have my goal set out and know that San Diego was a great chapter in my life but frankly, its run its course (I do miss Mexico though). I grew stale in so many ways and had effectively stagnated for all intents and purposes. I'm also maintaining a positive attitude when I'm not sarcastically wrestling with morons at banks and credit card companies. But hey, if that's the worst that happens to me, then I guess in the big picture I'm doing pretty good!!
Aaaaah yes, the blustery weather finally broke and mother nature granted us a half-day reprieve from the monsoonal punishment of late. The high barometric pressure associated with sunny blue skies has a very positive effect on my mood. I actually woke up early this morning and felt amped and excited, ready to take on the world, just itching to get outside and make the most of the day.
I decided to take a drive up north to Waikanae Beach. I'd heard rumors that it was a nice place to get outside and take a walk.....I just had to figure out how to get there first. I set out on my journey armed with a primitive map from the local rag called the Kapiti phone directory. That helped out a bit but it was more my sense of direction and position of the ocean that got me where I was going. A few typical man-style wrong turns along the way and an innate reluctance to ask for directions probably cost me a liter or two of petrol, but it's not the destination, it's the journey (so "they" say...whoever "they" are).
I parked at the eastern end of the Kapiti Reserve and walked north. There were quite a few kite surfers having a go of it, along with several people on what are called "blo-karts" which is basically a little dune-buggy with a sail attached to it. Waikanae is DEFINITELY the place for it considering how wide the beach is on a low tide. I spoke to a guy who was supervising his two kids on blo-karts and he told me they've been known to clock speeds of over 90km/h (55mph)! With speeds like that I asked if they came with brakes and he just smiled and said, "nah mate, ya just turn into the wind and loosen the sail." They're quite advanced really. They even come with little detachable side cars for putting your dog, cat, or significant other. They sell them at a local store in Porirua called Big Boys Toys. Even though it's categorized as a "toy," if you want one, it will set you back about $3000 NZD (~$2100 USD).
As I kept walking, I also noticed the presence of blue-bottle jellyfish washed up and scattered all over the beach. If you're not familiar with the blue-bottles, keep it that way. The big fat and frumpy jellyfish you see in the states are generally benign compared these things. The best short description is that it's a miniature Portuguese Man-of-War. Although they're blue in color, when they're floating out in the water, for some reason you just don't see them. They're not invisible, but just translucent enough to slip below the radar and give you a good sting before you even know what's hit you.
I was the unfortunate recipient of a blue-bottle sting while surfing Cave Rock just outside of Durban, South Africa back in 1999. I never even saw the thing. I was paddling back out after a catching a wave and was suddenly struck by the most painful burning sensation on my arm. My armpit glands started to swell so that worried me a bit. I knew about blue-bottles from my time in Australia, had heard all kinds of stories, but had somehow always successfully avoided them. I figured that's what it was, so I immediately got out of the water and ran to the house of a friend of the family where I was staying. She allowed me to soak my wounded paw in water as hot as I could handle which, eventually, did provide a dulling of the pain. The surf was actually very good on that day so I paddled back out for a few more waves, but cautiously neurotic thereafter.
The scary thing about blue-bottles is that the toxin secreted by their tentacles is about 75% as powerful as cobra venom. In severe cases, particularly those who experience an allergic reaction, it can send a victim into shock and interfere with the normal function of the heart and lungs. I wasn't particularly concerned that I was going to die, but it did leave a nasty red trail-like welt where the tentacle had wrapped around my arm.
We gave Ning Nong a miss and instead set off to check out Lake Ferry. We heard rumors of a peaky A frame wave with better winds. We arrived a short while later to perfect offshore winds but it was a dredging meat grinder with no real exit breaking in about a foot of water with a frothy death pit end section onto dry sand—kind of like a modified Coronado. We watched one remaining lone surfer take off and get a couple rides, all of which ended with an express trip through the spin cycle and a one way ticket to the bottom.
