Life in New Zealand

We've settled into the labouring part of the "working holiday". Our life now is quite ordinary; we have a house, a routine, jobs, a rotation of meals and favourite TV shows. Our plan is to work and save till August and then tour around, sleep in our car at D.O.C. (Dept. of Conservation) campgrounds and see more of this beautiful country, until December. Yet, despite the normalcy of our life, the subtle kiwi differences are apparent.

The road signs here are very dramatic. When we approach curves, the road sign predicts probable death, with an image of an uncontrolled car careening from side to side. In areas of loose gravel the sign's graphic warns that one errant hit from a rock will destroy your entire windshield. And don't forget, a sharp curve will topple a semi.

The government sponsored advertisements don't hold back either. Judging by these somber ads the country must be in the grips of binge drinkers, tired drivers and careless operators of heavy machinery. We haven't seen too many tired drivers, I would have said this country is humming with "boy racers". The drivers scream out of their driveways, accelerate like they're being chased, and then screech to a halt fifty meters away at the stop signs, (there aren't actually too many stop signs, most of the time you just "give way"). I don't know how it's done, but every car is made to sounds like it's sick and angry. This rumbling, thumping, choking sound is actually sought after.

New Zealand has no indigenous mammals. All the hairy creatures came over on boats: the people, their pets and livestock, their mice and rats. Instead birds had filled the niche filled by mammals and marsupials everywhere else. When we camped the other week, we heard dozens of different bird songs, fed ducks, geese and swans, but didn't see a single squirrel or fluffy bunny.

There are some differences in language as well. In the kitchen you boil water in the "jug". The jug sits on the "bench". Spilled pasta is swept up with the "brush and shovel" (I know!). Peppers go by "capsicums", zucchini by "courgette". Our rooms have different names as well, there's the "lounge" with the TV, and then there's the "toilet" which is separate from the bathroom, where you really just bathe. If something's good or cool, it's "sweet as" or "primo". A greeting is the hybrid, "how're you going?". This last one was confusing at first; where am I going? how's IT going? how am I? What are you asking? Oh, I see, I'm fine, thanks!