The Geography of Unhappiness

A few years ago I read this interesting and entertaining book called The Geography of Happiness.  The author, a journalist by trade, begged the question “what makes one place ‘happier’ than another?”  To research his oeuvre he visited a few of the countries that are recognized as being happiest places on Earth; Places where the population is, for the most part, and for most of the time, happy (how he must have suffered for his craft, eh?). He spent time in Bhutan, Thailand, Switzerland and Iceland – countries that obviously vary wildly in terms of climate, GDP, topography and culture, yet all report unusual levels of happiness.

In the end, what the author found was that each country attributed its general sense of wellbeing to internal forces within the people living there. To the mindsets they have adopted and perpetuated.  For example, Icelanders were happy since failure was not a shameful thing while Thais had an “ignorance is bliss” approach to life and didn’t think about, or sweat, the small stuff.

The reason I mention this book is that I’m currently living my own geography of unhappiness in crappy ol’ Middlemarch New Zealand.

I hate it here.  I hate the lack of a body of water. I hate the close-minded attitude of many of the people.  I hate how everyone seems to smoke. I hate the cavalier attitude I’ve seen towards dogs’ safety (sliding around in the back of pickup trucks like a barking toolbox).  I hate having to sidestep sheep dung while walking to town.  I hate not having a social life (I had thought I’d have some coworkers with whom to do things and hang out, but after a few people quit, I’m down to two coworkers, one who is 18 and the other who is 16).

I hate the lack of amenities and the difficulty in accessing….anything, really.  Middlemarch has barely anything to offer its inhabitants and visitors.  There’s our little over-priced store, another café that’s sometimes open, but often not, a pub/hotel that is pretty grungy and intimidating, a post office that’s open three hours a day and an unclean, unsupervised, unheated pool.  That’s it.  No garage, no hardware store, no pharmacy, no doctor, no hairdresser, no bank, no library, nothing.  I grew up in a place that I thought was small and remote, but this is a whole other isolated kettle of fish.  At least in Lafontaine you can go to the bank, get your hair cut, order a (delicious) pizza, go to the beach and have access to everything else you need within a 10-minute drive. Here, the nearest grocery store is a hair-raising 45-minute drive over some of the windiest, steepest roads I’ve seen on the South Island. 

And my job is killing my soul. Apart from the unkind work conditions (no breaks, lack of proper training, lack of communication from and with the bosses), there’s so much about my job that goes completely against my nature. I despise selling cigarettes and contributing to an unhealthy and addicted society.  I loath handing out plastic bags which will invariably end up in a landfill or floating in the ocean.  I abhor that the shop doesn’t recycle – every time I see someone tossing a bottle or can into the rubbish bin, I die a little.  I hate charging people 60% above the price they’d pay in a grocery store. Seriously, the mark up on products is 60%, which means that if the bosses go to the Countdown (a grocery chain) and buy a box of crackers for $2.99, they’ll turn around and sell it for $5.79. Robbery, I tell you.

And it’s not easy to get around without a car.  None of the big, affordable bus companies run through here, so I’ve had to use the overpriced shuttle services on occasion.  A one-hour trip from Dunedin to here costs me $35.  To put that in perspective, I took the bus from Wanaka to Christchurch in October, a seven-hour trip, for $40.  Despite the costs, whenever I get the chance, I take off.  I reckon I’ve spent close to $1000 on transportation over the past three months.  I consider it an investment into my mental and physical health.  Whenever I leave this place I almost immediately start to feel better, the reverse is true when I come back.  To whit, last week I was starting to get a cold, I had a day off and went to Wanaka for a quick visit, on the ride there, I started feeling much more alert, less achy and my sore throat and cough disappeared.  The day after I got back to Middlemarch, the cold returned with a vengeance and I’ve been a coughing, miserable mess.

This isn’t a life.  It’s purgatory.

Middlemarch has done what I had thought impossible: it’s seriously harmed my love affair with New Zealand. I’m meant to stay another three months, but we’ll see.

Dunedin to Wanaka

On my last full day in Dunedin (Wednesday the 20^th) I finally did a touristy thing and took a tour out to the Otago peninsula. It was another “return” for me, as I had visited the peninsula during my first ever week in NZ more than six years ago.

My lasting memory of that excursion was a view from Lanarch castle that had reduced me to tears. It was really neat to revisit the same site and discover that little had changed, and that my memory had served me quite well.

The Otago Peninsula

There were only three of us on our little tour (really, this is a great time of year to visit) and we were brought to the above mentioned Lanarch Castle, the Royal Albatross Centre, and Nature’s Wonders Naturally in rapid succession.

In the 10 whole minutes at Lanarch Castle I took a few dozen photos (thank goodness for digital photography) and raced back to the bus.

Lanarch Castle

Cool sculpture in the award-winning gardens in front of the castle.  it brings to mind someone hunched over into the crook of their arm. 

In the 15 minutes we had at the Albatross Centre, I took all of five – one tres cheezy staged shot of myself looking wistfully out to sea, one of the only albatross that I saw, and three of the HUGE flock of seagulls (“meet a girl like you-ou-ou”). It was a bit boring, and smelly, frankly. Apparently if you pay to tour the grounds you get to see them nesting, which I’m sure is much cooler – alas, time and money was not on my side.

Camera?  What camera?

The highlight of the day was, bar none, the Nature’s Wonders Naturally. Owned by a family of sheep farmers, the land occupied by the company is home to stunning views of the sea, a healthy colony of seals and not one, but two kinds of penguins – the little blue penguin, which stand at about 25cm tall, and the very rare yellow-eyed penguin. Squeee!

To navigate the somewhat rugged terrain, we were bundled onto eight-wheel drive vehicles and given attractive green ponchos so we blended in better with the landscape. As we jostled over bumps, splashed through puddles, I was giggling like a little girl. Of course, my enjoyment of the excursion wasn’t hampered in any way by the fact that our driver and guide was an attractive redheaded kiwi (a weakness of mine).

These are apparently a Canadian design.  Who knew?

The seals were cute and chill – some five-month-old pups were sleeping not five feet from the path while others frolicked in the shallow water. The penguins were cute too, if a little inactive. They’re nesting at the moment, and those who weren’t sitting on the nests were out hunting. Still. PENGUINS!

A yellow eyed penguin.  Too bad it's not in focus.  It was a fair ways away.  These little guys are quite nervous and are known to have heart attacks if people get too close.  so sad.

Sleepy seal pup and playful seal pup. they were cute. 

Penguin beach.  The (hot) guide said that no human has been on that beach in 10 years, so the penguins are pretty chill.

A little blue penguin.  He was no more than 5 feet from me.  These guys aren;t too bothered by humans, so we could get really close without disturbing him.

Wednesday was significant for another reason – I voluntarily ate fish. The guide convinced me to try the blue cod fish and chips (or, as kiwis say it “fush und chups”) at this dingy little takeaway shop in town. Lo and behold, it was pretty good. Don’t expect me to be chomping on lobster or oysters anytime soon, but I may indulge in some more deep-fried fishy goodness from time to time.

Thursday began dull and grey in Dunedin: perfect weather for spending in a bus. Luckily, that was just what was on the agenda. I boarded the Atomic bus at 10:00 and over four and half hours, the bus wound its way through a few mountain ranges and much rain. As if like magic though, as we pulled into Wanaka, Mother Nature shrugged off her dark, wet shroud and showed off the bright blue sky she'd been concealing.

I'm here.  You're not.  Neener neener neener.

Ahhhhhhhhhhh…Wanaka.

A little history here. When I was here some 18 months ago, my usual travel companion and I could not stop singing – to the tune of Adam Sandler’s Hanukah song from his days on SNL – “tell your friend Veronica, that I’m in Wan-a-kaaaa!” It’s been running through my head for the past two days.

Anywhoodle. Wanaka. Is. Beautiful. The fact that I’m emphasising this says a lot when you consider the sheer plethora of panoramas this country has on offer. It’s awesome. Trust me.

An oft-photographed tree just casually growing in the middle of a big lake.  No biggie.

Wanaka is often overlooked by thrill and party seekers for nearby Queenstown, the self-proclaimed Adventure Capital of the World. Too bad for those who skip it, cause they’re missing out.

Nestled on the shore of Lake Wanaka, at the base of a bunch of mountains and near skiing and hiking in Mount Aspiring National Park, the town is decidedly a touristy spot, but not in a gaudy, showy way. There are a few chain stores in town – Flight Centre, Paper Plus, New World – but there are no McDonalds, Starbucks, or Burger Kings to be seen. The vast majority of businesses are independent and quaint.

The whole town is dominated by the snow-capped mountains to the West, and I’ve spent much of my time just gazing at them in reverence.

Other things I’ve gotten up to since I’ve been here:

• Gone to see Inception at the kooky Cinema Paradiso where the seats are couches, chairs, and even a car. Great venue. Great flick.

In Cinema Paradiso during intermission.  That brown lump on the napkin on the pillow next to me is the best cookie ever.

• Watched the parade that signals the official opening of WanakaFest, a community festival going on this long weekend (Labour day is Monday).

The wanaka dancers do their thing in this tiny and cute parade.

• Hiked up Mount Iron, which at only 750m in height is dwarfed by the many mountains around.

Mount Iron seen from the other side of the lake.

• Visited the Rippon Winery – the home of some of the best wine I’ve ever had.

At $16.50 a bottle, this is the most expensive wine I've ever bought in NZ (yes, I can be cheap). It's worth it though.  It's delicious. 

• Took a nap by the lake.
• Done my homework K
• Found a job of sorts.  For the next week I'll be spending two hours a day cleaning an old gym that's been converted into a 12-room lodging.  In exchange, I'll have a free place to stay.  Should be OK. I start tomorrow, so I hope it's OK.  I'll be sure to gripe if it's not :)

One final picture: I got to feed an orphaned lamb at the place where I saw the penguins.  How cute is that?

Getting busy in Dunedin (not THAT way)

I’ve now been in Dunedin a full week, and a good week it has been. 

For the first time in months, I’ve had obligations and a schedule, and it’s been rather nice -- a little respite from my flotsam and jetsam existence.

My first foray into the world of Wwoofing was successful, if atypical.  Not having my own means of transport other that my tired feet, I chose a place for its proximity to Dunedin (aka, within it). I was delighted to find myself hosted in a section of the city I’d never been before.  Opoho is on the northern side of town, waaaaaaaaaaaaaay up the hills. The views were amazing.

This is what I woke up to for three days.

My host was a delightfully kooky woman who works a full-time job, is starting two small businesses, rents out a room to students, and hosts woofers. Oh, and she has a rambunctious and adorable dog who needs a lot of attention.  Phew.  I’m tired just writing about all she does.

Isabella Rosselini -- though she's only as tall as my mid-shin, she can jump to nearly shoulder hight.  We had many a "fetch" session.

While there, I busied myself setting up a flower garden (man, do I not know much about gardening), cleaning, weeding, taking care of the dog (Isabella Rosselini), and reworking some text for a website she plans on launching soon.  I learned a lot about lynchgates, and hopefully some of my handiwork will help make a few sales!

My handiwork (I have much to learn).

There was another woofer staying with her at the same time as me, and she was great company.  An American in her early 20s, C____ (name withheld in case she wants to remain anonymous) has been in Dunedin a few weeks and happily took me around to St-Clair (nice beachy area) and Lookout Point (even further up the hill in Opoho – it was a 45-minute climb!) where we did a bit of walking and chatting.  Twas grand.

St Clair.  Though I was shivering in three layers of clothing, some crazy kiwis were actually swimming. brrrrr.



From atop Lookout Point.  It was crazy steep and a loooong walk up.  But what a view!



I reluctantly left my private room in Opoho yesterday and returned to my hostel, only to find that I had a private room! No one else was staying in my dorm, so I had yet another night of solitude.  Never take a night by yourself for granted folks.  It really is a luxury these days J

Today was spent at Arthur Street School which literally is just around the corner from my hostel. It’s a pretty small school with some 120 students, and it reminded me a lot of my own primary school, Ste-Croix, in that all the students seemed to know each other, regardless of age.  I had a good day there.  The principal and deputy principal had set up a whole schedule for me (printed and everything!) so that I am spending time with every age group over the two days I’m spending there.

I expected to like the younger groups and dislike working with the older kids, but they were all so well-behaved, that both experiences were good. 

We’ll see how tomorrow goes, but I’m feeling a bit more confident about it all now.

So what’s next? I’m thinking Wanaka deserves another visit, and hopefully I’ll be able to do a bit of woofing there too.  Perhaps a few days basking in the gorgeous views in the tiny valley-village of Mount Cook are also in the cards.  Eventually though, I plan on heading up to the top of the South Island where I hope to do some more tramping, and maybe warm up.

In other news, I submitted an editorial to one of the papers here, but so far, it doesn’t look like they’re going to run it (booooooo).  If I don’t hear from them in the next few days, I’ll post the text here, so at least my brilliant prose won’t be lost in the ether.

Oh, and at the tender age of three months, my laptop battery has decided it’s had enough of this cruel world and has quietly and suddenly expired.  Luckily I can still use my computer if it’s plugged in, but no wandering for me.  It also looks unlikely that I’ll be finding a replacement here, so it may have to wait until Christmas and Canada.

Dunedin Botanical Gardens

Some cliffs in St Clair.  There are sections that look like Giants' Causeway.

From Lookout Point.  I really should learn to smile like a human being in photos

Charming sign about a 30-second walk from the (seriously) very urban house where I was staying.

Bunch of posts at St Clair beach

Some sheep just going about their business, completely oblivious to their stunning surroundings

Dunedin offers me steep streets and structure.

Tuesday morning I was up early to grab a bus at 8:00, destination: the city of Dunedin, some five hours South of Christchurch.

It was a pleasant route that I must have done back in 2004 when I drove from Christchurch to here, but for the life of me, none of it looked familiar.  Not the delightfully kitchy Salmon World in Rakaia, not the pretty towns of Timaru or Oamaru, not the distant snow-capped mountains.  Nothing.  It was like seeing for the first time. It was great.

My enchantment during the ride contined as I arrived in Dunedin.  It was definitely helped by the absolutely gorgeous weather.  The sky was a completely cloudless brilliant blue that makes a bad mood almost impossible.  What could make a good mood bad is having to trek nearly a km to my hostel with some 40 pounds of stuff on my back.  Almost all of it uphill.

Cause nearly everything seems to be uphill in Dunedin.  It is a city in constant battle with gravity.

The train station, on its side (sigh)

Inside the train station (right side up! huzzah!)

If you first arrive, like I did, at the train station, you might be lulled into a false sense of levelness.  As you make your way into town via the descriptively-named Octagon – an eight-sided open area fringed with bars, restaurants, theatres and shops – you start to get an inkling of the steeply-angled hell into which you are about to ascend.  The roads to the west suddenly and sharply veer upwards, and every step becomes an ordeal. 

I hate this photo program.  The photo was taken lengthwise, while the photo below was taken widthwise, yet here, they are both topsy turvy.  Screw you Blogger!

Yet another NZ city not built on a grid.

Hunched over, sweating profusely, you’re painfully aware of each and every ounce you’re carrying on your person when going uphill.  When you’re headed downhill, it might require less effort, but it’s still not easy.  In order to avoid going ass over tea kettle, you must adopt an odd backward-leaning posture by scooping your tailbone underneath you and taking exaggerated steps, like you're wearing too-big clown shoes.

The world's steepest street is some 5km from the downtown.  I haven't seen it myself, but I've read that it's an asthma attack-inducing 19 degree incline.

Going up up up!

Up some more (though it looks sideways)

Luckily, Dunedin makes up for its unwelcoming inclines with lots of charm.  The views are great, many of the buildings are impressively attractive, and it has a youthful energy thanks to the university around which the city seems to be built. (Unfortunately, a lot of this energy seems to be expelled via the smashing of beer bottles.  I’ve never seen so much broken glass on sidewalks before).

It’s Otago University that brought me here too.  I had my interview with the College of Education yesterday in the hopes that I’ll be accepted into their Graduate Diploma of Teaching program, which would start in January.

It’s hard for me to say whether it went well or not.  I do think they liked me and some of what I had to say seemed to impress them (“very insightful!”). But the fact that I haven’t spent any time in a classroom, other than as a student myself, has them a bit worried that I may not really know whether this is a career I’d be interested in. 

It’s something that has been weighing on me a bit too, so they suggested I contact one of the local schools and see about coming in for a few days next week.  So I have.  On Monday and Tuesday I’ll be sitting in on a bunch of classes at the school just behind my hostel (I can actually hear the kids playing outside as I type this). I’m looking forward to it.

A few more photos for you:

The view from near my hostel.

A church. (duh)

Some building near the train station (see how deceptively flat it is down there?)

And that’s not my only obligation this week (see, I can still have structure J ). On Thursday (as in, today) I’m going to be trying my hand at WWOOFing (Willing Workers On Organic Farms).  Basically, you help out on private farms for a few days in exchange for room and board.

I believe I’m going to be helping the owner with updating her website and doing some cleaning and maintenance work around her house.  Should be a good experience no matter what.