Yet another attempt at sliding down a hill

I have completed the alpine trifecta today by trying telemark skiing for the first time. 

Don't know what telemark is?  I'm not surprised.  It's hardly mainstream. 

If you're old enough to remember the Lillehammer Olympics back in 1994, you would have seen skiers telemark down a hill as part of the opening ceremonies. That's when I first saw it.

Basically, telemark skis look like a hybrid of downhill and cross country skis -- The base is the same, but the bindings don't attach in the back, so your heel lifts up as on a cross country ski.  To turn, you bend the knee of the leg in the direction you wish to go and do a bit of a lunge.

Here's a video!

I actually went to dinner last night and the Biff guy from this video was there.  Too funny

Working on the ski hill I've seen a few telemarkers in person, but had never planned on trying it. 

Anyway, Dave has a bunch of extra telemark skis and boots for some strange reason, and with not much to do today, he basically forced me to try.  It was fun, but I wasn't really doing it properly.  Oh well. At least I tried.

Farewell to an awesome dog

Anyone who’s ever owned a pet knows the pure happiness and simple joy an animal who to call your own brings. 

Despite the smelliness of their fur and their breath and their digestive system, despite the pain-in-the-ass walks in the rain and poop-and-scooping, despite the cost and the hassle of having them around, you love them.

Unfortunately, almost everyone who’s owned a pet also knows the pain and heartache of losing them.

Let me tell you about an awesome dog named Chevy that left us far too early.

Chevy was a big, friendly husky with those big, expressive husky-blue eyes, the gentlest of personalities, and a dopey look about him thanks to some floppy ears that aren’t typical of his breed (an ear infection somehow damaged them when he was young).

Droopy ears on an awesome dog.

Chevy’s exact origins are somewhat unclear to me.  All I know is that he came into my life a few years ago courtesy of my stepfather, Roger who acquired him when he bought a house (when he wasn’t yet my stepfather, but already an unofficial member of the Robitaille clan) off a couple moving overseas. 

I understand that poor Chevy was tied up much of the time in his early years, pre-us, which is devastating for a dog, especially a husky who’s wired to run, run, run! For the love of all things good and holy RUN!

Even sadder is that one day while he was tied up, another dog came and attacked him, and he was unable to run away.  That encounter left him with some big scars – some visible, some not.  He was often nervous around other dogs.

When Roger moved into a pet-unfriendly condo a few years later, my brother Paul was quick to offer to take Chevy in as a boarder at my mom’s place (she, not much of an animal person, eventually agreed).

How could she turn this face away?

We’re so glad he did. 

Chevy quickly became an integral part of the family, and it’s safe to say he loved being at our place as much as we loved having him there.  He was happiest when he was around people (especially people with treats) and there were often a lot of people at our house to be around.  We rarely had to tie him up – he wasn’t one to run away.  He just loved hanging around our place. 

See? That's one happy puppy.

In the summer all that husky fur made for an uncomfortable and slow-moving dog.  His usual hot, summer day would consist of sleeping in the driveway in one spot for an hour or so at a time, getting up, moving about three metres, then flopping back down again for another hour’s snooze. My brother Johnny once joked that we should set up a bingo-style grid and place bets on where he’d flop next. 

Last summer when Johnny and I were staying at my mom’s, we woke up one morning to find a few porcupine quills stuck in Chevy’s nose.  I’m convinced that he didn’t try to attack the other animal, he just saw a prickly shape moving around and thought “yay! Someone to play with!  Hello friend! What do you smell like?” 

Ouch.  A costly (but worthwhile) trip to the vet later, we had a de-quilled and be-drugged Chevy on our hands.  It was so cute and sad to see him looking so dopey and bewildered and oh-so-sleepy.  He fell asleep in the vet’s office with his head on my foot, his drool soaking my shoe.  Awwwww. Chevy.

Doped-up Chevy.  See hoe his upper lip is caught on his paw?  Priceless.  After a few hours in this position I had to physically roll him over by grabbing his feet.  He had bits of gravel stuck to his lip. Poor pathetic Chevy. 

While the Robitaille’s loved Chevy tons, there’s one person who I think loved him most of all: my uncle Chris.

I can’t prove it, but I’m fairly certain that Chris’ visits to mom’s house increased exponentially once Chevy was around. 



Look at the love.

For Christmas last year I bought Chris a set of those glass coasters you slide a photo into to personalize them and set a photo of Chevy in each one.  He allegedly keeps a photo of Chevy on his fridge too.

I haven’t seen Chevy since I left Canada in January, but every time I talked to anyone at home via Skype, I’d be sure to ask to see the dog.  Except last time. I was so caught up in my own stupid dramas and stresses that I forgot to say hi to him – and do I ever regret it.

A few weeks ago I got an email from my mom with the title “A very lucky dog”.  She went on to explain that Chevy had very uncharacteristically wandered onto the road in front of our house where there’s an unfortunate blind spot, and was struck by a car.  They’d taken him to the vet with a bloody nose, but there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with him, so he was sent home with a few pain killers.  We all breathed a sigh of relief.

Yesterday though, I got another email.  This one was simply titled “Chevy” and it contained much worse news.  It seems that he hadn’t been himself since the accident. “Like a zombie, a body without a spirit”, as mom put it, and eventually, he couldn’t even stand up.  They had to put him down.

It’s been devastating.  I’ve been crying buckets and I understand that most of the family has been doing the same.  I’ve lost dogs before, but I think it’s harder for me cause I’m so far away, and when I left him he was so happy and healthy and now I’ll never see him again.

Bye buddy.  I miss you so much.

I miss your big bark and your happy growls.

I miss your prancy "foods-a-comin'!" dance.

I miss your insatiable hunger for treats.

I miss your canine smile and your barky greeting.

I miss your late night howling at cows and your all-day naps.

I miss your doggy stench and your doggy breath

I miss you.

If you’ve got a dog around, give ‘em a big hug and a pat and a cuddle and treat for me.  You never know when it’ll be their last.

Treats

Chevy's other biggest fan, Johnny.

One of the last times I pet him : (

Things I'll miss about New Zealand, Volume 4

17- Walking around barefoot: especially now that the weather is warming up and people are starting to do it around town.
18- Slices: One thing kiwis don't eat much (at least not as much as we Tim Horton's-dependant Canadians) is donuts.  They prefer their baked goods sans hole and pressed into a pan in the form of slices.  Basically, these generally consist of a biscuit base with either one or two layers of sugary topping.  In North America, I guess these would be our "squares" or "bars".  It's not that they're revolutionary over here, it's just that they're ubiquitous. Enter any bakery, café, or even petrol station and you'll find a slice or five just waiting to be eaten. I've even forayed into slice-making myself, trying my hand at (and succeeding quite well, I must say) making a nice ginger slice and an even better chocolate caramel one.  My next venture is likely to be a mocha concoction.  Stay tuned.

19-The flowery trees: Again, with spring here, it's especially difficult to think of leaving.  The buds are out, the willows down at the waterfront are already "en feuille" as we say in French, and a remarkable amount of trees are in bloom.  I remember being impressed in 2009 when I arrived to see how many trees here boast flowers.  I'm still impressed today.

Here's one now!

20-The rugby: rugby is awesome.  Canada should watch and play more of it.  It's as exciting and even more physical than hockey, and the dudes are tough.  And hot.  Here, rugby is undeniably, and rightly, king.

Snowboarding and other random pictures

I am happy to report that after being employed at a ski field for the better part of three months, dating a ski instructor for the same amount of time, and taking two lessons, I have reached one of my goals for the year.  I can finally say I'm comfortable skiing down some of the blue runs at Treble Cone (which would be considered black runs anywhere else. That mountain be STEEP).


Woohoo!


And, as of Tuesday, I acheived another goal -- I tried snowboarding.


Dave very kindly took time out of his work day up at the Cardrona ski resort where he works to show me how to board.  We went there cause it's a much easier mountain on which to learn anything thanks to its mercifully flat beginners' area and actual green runs (as mentioned above blue runs at Treble Cone = black elsewhere.  Same goes for the green run.  Green at TC = blue anywhere else).


It was a lot of fun, despite the multiple painful and embarassing spills and the inevitable mocking from my oh-so-helpful instructor (anyone who's ever tried to learn a new skill or teach a new skill to a romantic partner knows what I'm talking about). By late afternoon I managed to make it down the oh-so-flat slope once or twice without falling!  Go me!  Dave had to (begrudgingly) admit that I "turned out to be pretty average" after all.  Yay!  Mediocrity!


Though I am devastatingly without a camera at the moment, luckily Dave has one and has been very generous about my borowing it.  So, I have pictures!


Heading up the "magic carpet" (basically like an escalator in the snow).

After one of my many spills.



Still smiling though.  I'm a trouper.

We have motion! Look up Nadine.  Look up! 


I'm planning on taking another lesson on Monday or Tuesday up at Treble Cone, so hopefully I'll be able to actually make it down a run or two by then. 


In the meantime, I'm nursing sore muscles, limping, and groaning like an old lady.


Let's see, what else has been going on lately?


Dave and I went down to Invercargill again last week to watch a Rugby World Cup game between Scotland and Georgia.  It was fun, though expensive and the game itself was rather a snoozefest since not a single try (goal) was scored.  All the points were made thanks to penalty kicks.  Yawn.


Here are some photos.




Some sheep bedecked in the flags of the four nations that played games down in Invercargill.

A dude in a jaunty Scotish cap watches as the national anthems are sung before the match.

Heineken is sponsoring the RWC, so they're the only beer you can buy on the spot.  They come in these awful four packs, with environmentally unfriendly rings from which the beer is hard to extract (especially since they open the cans before selling them to you).  We ended up spending $72 on beer between the two of us.  That's for 12 beers.  Damn it.  As a result, I don't remember much of the second half of the match.

Unflattering shot of moi during the match.  Notice the be-mulleted man to my left (your right)?  He made a point of giving the finger to the TV camera every time it was pointed in his general direction.  Classy.  Also, it was raining, thus the hood.

Have I mentioned that Dave is also a volunteer fireman?  Pretty sweet eh?  Well two Saturdays ago there was an event to hand out plaques and stripes and pins and medals and such to various members of the Wanaka, Luggate and Hawea (three regions near here) fire brigade to recognize their years of service, and I got to go as Dave's date.


Not going to lie, the night was interminibly long what with the pomp and circumstance and the speaches and the awkward conversations.  It was like being at a high school graduation and a wedding where you know nobody all rolled into one.  On the plus side, I got to dress up and go somewhere with a man in uniform (awwwwww yeah!) and there was an open bar.  And you know I availed myself of that.




Me in a dress for the first time in months, and Dave in his fancy fireman suit for the first time ever.




Dave and some fellow brigaderes (not sure if that's a word, but I like it anyway) line up for some official welcome thing.  He's the fourth from the left.

 And I've had a few fun nights out with people from work.  Often I don't have a camera with me, but this particular night I did.


Me and the blondies: Jade, Jenny and Amber at Amber's house.



Amber and I looking as happy as we were (notice the glass).

 And Dave and I went to the old mining town of Arrowtown one day last week too.  He used to work at one of the resorts there and brought me on a little tour. It was quaint.



Me near the waterfall beside the Millbrook Resort.



Very likely the highlight of the week -- This is around where they filmed the Ford of Bruinen scenes in Fellowship of the Ring.  You know, the scene with the horses and the river.  I annoyed Dave with quotes from the movie for a good ten minutes after this ("Give us the halfling She Elf!"  "If you want him, come and claim him!").  Ahhhhh. Now that I look at it though, I think I should have gone another few hundred metres upriver.  Oh well.  Close enough.

And of course, in my jobless state, I've been spending a lot of time with a furry and barky creature.  He's taken to following me around wherever I go during the day on the off-chance that I might bring him for a walk (I do take him out once or twice a day).  Poor Scruff.




Scruffle Ruffle!  Happy to be out on a walk.



Speaking of Scruff, I really should bring him out.  He's been ever so patient all morning. Toodleloo!

Update

I have my new passport.  It arrived last Tuesday at 8:30 in the morning, and as soon as the courier left, I burst into tears -- I really don't want to go.  Though it was a pain in the ass being in limbo, at least not having that passport gave me carte blanche to ignore the fact that I have to leave soon.

But having that passport in hand does not mean that my bureaucratic woes are done.  Oh no!  I still have the visa situation to deal with.

If you recall, I had to undergo a rather intensive and invasive and expensive medical in order to apply for the visitors' visa. I was told the results would take about four or five days to come back from the lab.  However, when I called on the morning of the fifth day, I was told it was in fact a two-week turnaround.  This was the 14th; my working holiday visa expired on the 15th, and I received the passport on the 13th. Things were tight. 

Luckily, when I presented myself to the Immigration NZ office they were sympathetic (good ol' kiwis!) and granted me an interim visa on the spot, so I'm not illegal.  Once I get the results from the medical I'll send them in and should be granted a visitor's visa whihc will allow me to stay for another month and a bit.

Originally, I was meant to leave tomorrow, but I've managed to change my ticket to the 1st of November cause I'm having visitors!!!  My mom and uncle are coming to NZ in mid-October for two weeks.  So exciting!

So at the moment I'm squatting at Dave's and trying not to spend too much money, trying to sell my car, hoping to get some volunteering in at one of the local papers and baking and cleaning for my keep.  Also went skiing a few times (I'm actually getting better!) and been watching a lot of rugby.

A pox on bureaucracy!

My passport woes continue.

So here's the latest: As I'm sure you've deduced, I still don't have a bloody passport.  I gave the fiendishly unhelpful Canadian High Commission a call on Tuesday and they were characteristically unaccommodating.

Basically I was told that I shouldn't expect a replacement passport for at least another two weeks, and that I shouldn't bother them before then.  And when I stressed that I'm running the risk of being here illegally, they didn't seem to care.  I asked if they could send me an email to prove that I have lodged an application at which time they transferred me to an unmanned line and I had to leave a message with my request.  They never responded or replied. 

Sigh.

Immigration New Zealand, however, has been fantastic.  When I called them to see what my options are, the agent on the line appologized for my situation (I guess she felt bad that such a thing would happen in her country), and went out of her way to find out what could be done for me. 

Well, I have to apply for a visitors' visa, which, one would assume, is a simple process -- not so, it appears. If I had a passport, I could simply hop on a flight to Australia and return here a few days later and immediately be issued a three-month visitors' visa on arrival.  However, if you're applying for one while in the country, it's a monumental pain in the tush. 

I have a 19-page form to fill out and had to undergo a full medical including vision test, cholesterol test, HIV test and chest X-ray at the cost of a whopping $425.  Oh, and I need to submit not one, not two but five passport-sized photos, which, on top of the two sets I had to take for the actual passport (the first batch failed), I've had to have four sessions of passport photos taken.  Hell. Then there's the actual cost of the visa which will be another hundred and fifty I believe.

I underwent the medical on Wednesday, and they have to send all the samples to Dunedin (a city three hours from here), and they may not have the results of said medical before next Wednesday, which is the last day I can get the application in before I'm officially here illegally.  I'm so screwed.

Long story short: I'm broke and getting robbed sucks.

:(

And two things I WON"T miss about New Zealand

Snot rockets.  If you don't know what they are, let me be the unfortunate soul to explain.  Snot rockets are what people who neglect to carry tissues (or Kleenex, as we would say back home) resort to to clear their nasal passages.  They block one nostril with a finger, and exhale forcefully to ejaculate a mucusy globule of nastiness into theit surroundings.  Charming.  I don't know if it's a NZ-wide phenomenon, but it's de rigeur here in Wanaka.  Gross.

The ridiculous set up of many, if not most sinks.  Observe:

What the hell is that?  I mean, really?  You have one tap that produes an icy stream, and the other that gives you a scalding one.  And they're located on opposite ends of the bloody sink, so if you want to wash your hands or face, you have to either freeze or burn, or do this frantic back and forth motion in an attempt to get warm water.  It's maddening.  And nonesensical.  And bizarre.  Gah!