A Twist On Be-Longing

Several weeks ago I went to a play at the University of Otago entitled, Be-Longing.  It was a lovely, innovative play about immigrants in Dunedin.  Upon entering the small theatre, the usher approached me and asked if I would please first head over to a map on display and put a pin where I feel I belong.  I immediately just about stopped short in my tracks.  I thought I was going to cry, standing there in front of that map with a little pin in my hand!  I was stunned to realize that I was tempted to put the little pin on Dunedin. 

   

The events that have lead to this new grounding in Dunedin are not events that I ever could have predicted.  Several months ago I was diagnosed with a rare blood disorder called Primary Myelofibrosis.  It all started with a routine blood test. Then I was called back into Student Health. The next day I was in the Haematology/Oncology department of the Dunedin Public Hospital. And the day after that I was having a bone marrow biopsy which, when the test results came back some time later, confirmed the diagnosis.  I’ll post more about the disorder some time. For now, it’s enough to say it is serious and will require some management for the rest of my life.  The prognosis is pretty unknown, the only cure is a bone marrow transplant, but that is not deemed necessary at this time as I am a best-case scenario patient for long-term management.  

Ever since the diagnosis, I’ve been wondering whether or not to mention it in my blog.  But the more I think about it, the more I realize it would be really hard for me to blog WITHOUT mentioning it because this is now a large and important piece of who I am, pervading even my migrant experiences.  Though the two may seem unrelated – being a migrant and now having a chronic condition to manage – they are, actually, very related.  I realized this when I wanted to put the pin of my belonging, for the first time, in Dunedin. 

See, this huge and unexpected medical experience has basically changed everything.  I can’t do a comprehensive description of what the last months have been like, but we’ve have been on a wild ride of tests, research, copious information, treatment plans and medications.  I have also sought out a naturopath, a meditation guide, changed my diet and implemented an exercise regime all to help me cope physically and mentally.  I have cut back to part-time studies.  And this is only the beginning of the changes we’ve been handling.  My husband has been on this wild ride with me at every turn.  The doctors have been amazing and my care here has been exceptionally high quality.  We have a long road ahead of us, managing this situation, but we’ll get there. I’m determined. 

All of this has made me feel immensely grounded right here, right now, right where I am.  Five months ago, I didn’t know I had any health problems, now I know I need medical intervention to stay healthy and alive and that intervention is based right here, in little old Dunedin, the town at the end of the earth -- with a medical teaching hospital I can see from my kitchen window! My care has been free, my prescriptions are $3, my doctor takes a good amount of time with me at every appointment.  We have a lovely new house, in which I can rest and recuperate between the ups and downs.  We even have a lovely neighborhood cat that keeps us company (when she pleases, of course!)  I have a valuable handful of concerned, supportive people here for me. I even have a hair dresser who is basically an unrecognized health and mental health practitioner herself!!  I am right here. I am, actually, precisely where I am supposed to be.  I may have come to feel this way eventually anyway, but this situation has really sped matters up!

My ties to my friends and family overseas have also been strengthened because of all of this.  I am connected to them intimately on a daily basis and I wouldn’t have it any other way.  It’s hard not to be closer to some of the most important people in my life, especially with my new-found appreciation for the preciousness of loved ones. But I have a new odd peace about my situation. 

As I stood in the dimly lit theatre, having a mini internal crisis, the usher sort whispered and said, “You can mark two places if you’d like.”  Whew! I had to laugh a little. She was probably afraid I was having a breakdown. Crisis averted. I put a pin on Alaska, I’m not ready to give that place up. And I put a pin on Dunedin, still surprised that for the first time, I do feel a sense of belonging here.  And then I mentally put a little pin on every other place where I have a dear friend or family member supporting and thinking of me. 

Heaven's Called Okarito

I wanted to do a second little posting about just 2 days of my West Coast trip - just about a little place called Okarito.  It's about 20 km off the main West Coast road. 

I can't remember where I first heard or read about it, maybe I just saw it on the map and headed that way.  But I knew there was a campground - and a beach - so I decided to check it out.  Before seeing it, I just had a feeling it'd be the kind of place I'd stay for 2 days, rather than 2 hours. 

I was right. 

Okarito allowed me the space to think through a lot of things that have been going on in my life.  It was small, quiet and safe.  The community-run campground had just the kind of vibe you might imagine a community-run campground to have.  Cycle touring families, hippies in vans, locals just passing through, tourists who got off the beaten path a bit - we all shared this nice little patch of grass by the sea with a small shelter covered in painted murals.  Fresh herbs were offered for sale to spice up your camping cooking. 

The old wharf.

I walked a lot, I had a quick cold swim and I even rented a kayak on the spur of the moment and paddled around a gorgeous protected estuary and up a small river for several hours.

I read, skipped stones, chatted with a little Swiss boy about the lion on his T-shirt.  I drank coffee and got out my new watercolor paint set.  And I mulled some things over.  At some point I found myself thinking, wouldn't it be nice if there could be some sort of sign to let you know that everything in life is going to work out alright?  Not to say there won't be challenges and hardship, but you know, just something to offer that vague reassurance?  Then I looked around myself and chuckled -- what more of a sign could I want? 

Out East

Last week, James, Nick, Kelly and I all headed up to the North Island. After some urban adventures, including the World Wearable Arts show, we headed a bit off the beaten path to the East Cape, an area that none of us had ever been to before.  It's in the middle of the length of the North Island, on a piece of land that juts East out into the Pacific Ocean.  It's famous for beautiful carved Whare Nui on Maori marae. (Taking photos of these can be considered disrespectful, but there are plenty of on-line images and I'd highly recommend checking out these gorgeous, meaningful meeting houses). The East Cape is known as a centre of Maori pride, tradition and activism.  It's also known for it's surf, beaches and remote lifestyle. It's where two well-known movies were filmed, Whale Rider and Boy.

It was, indeed, a place with a remote, laid back feel where the beauty and strength of Maori culture thrives and rural communities seem tightly knit.  Everyone we met along the way was friendly, every corner we turned was stunning.

We picked up a tourism brochure that seemed a bit different than all the others. With minimal marketing, it had just the kind of information you might want - what to see in each little town, where to find ice cream, which beach is known for surfing and which for snorkeling. And it started off with a poem.  Here's a bit of the poem and I'll let my photos say the rest!

"Set your mind and compass East, traveller.
Point your brow into the morning sun,
take your watch off,
recycle your cell phone
and
let go.
Out East."

Till It Be Morrow

Life moves in circles.  It loops around back on itself all the time - leaving us to find ourselves in an old familiar place again, or seeing an old familiar face again.  I really believe that people's paths always cross again.  I find it comforting that the world really can be small.

Last week I saw a poster around Uni advertising a presentation about Shakespeare and The Globe Theatre. There's always dozens of posters advertising dozens of talks around a Uni with 20,000+ students. But this one caught my eye. It caught my eye because I LOVE Shakespeare.  I'm no expert, I haven't read all the plays or memorized the sonnets, but I have a great appreciation for Shakespeare and I've enjoyed every experience I've had with him (via his plays, of course).  My mom thinks perhaps my grandmother always wanted to be an actress. She loved Shakespeare. She quoted him here and there at the perfect moment and we often recalls Gram's moments of Shakespearean wisdom. Come the 15th of March, I remember her as I say, "Beware the Ides of March" all day.  She had two huge golden-leafed volumes of Shakespeare plays and sonnets that my mom now has.

Wherever You Go, There You Are

My mom once gave me a small card that said, "Wherever you go, there you are."  I don't remember who said it originally but what a great quote!  A lot of my posts have been about missing the places I've lived or come from most recently (Juneau, Alaska) as I now live here in New Zealand.  I blog about my reality of being a migrant, and well, missing my 'home' of Alaska and America and all that those places entail is a huge part of my existence in New Zealand. Like it or not, it just is.  And I think that's ok - it doesn't overshadow the fact that I'm also living a full life here, pouring myself into it, growing everyday.  My two realities exist side by side - and while that inherently creates a lot of bittersweetness, I wouldn't really have it any other way. I'm a little bit divided in two and I'm not willing to give up either half. So there you go.

Ode to a Warm House (and Soup)

Not until moving to NZ did I realize that "home-heating" could be such a robust,varied and complex conversation topic.  Sometimes I like to see how many minutes pass before my husband mentions 'heat pumps' in a new conversation with a third party.  It's never long.  And then if you throw in things like insulation, underfloor heating, solar panels and double-glazed (double-paned) windows - well there's hours of conversation in that!  Not to mention the wonders of thermal curtains, electric blankets, wet-backs (a fire that heats your hot water tank while warming your house) and debating the warmth that comes from a wood-burning vs coal-burning stove.  And don't forget! - there's different TYPES of insulation, different ways to install and mount your heat pump, and dehumidifiers come with all sorts of options too. And that's not even mentioning the huge array of space heaters you can plug in and turn on. Get the picture? 'Cause that's just the very beginning. Home-heating is discussed at great length and in great detail here in NZ.  And though I myself can't get too excited about the topic, I decided to make a blog posting in honor of my warm house - and my husband who did most of the work to get it this way - because I'm generally pretty warm and toasty as we enter winter - and that, I've learned - is not to be taken for granted in NZ. Otherwise, they wouldn't talk about home-heating so much. So here you go James, a blog entry for you, about our home-heating. My take on it will undoubtedly involve more soup and less variables of technological efficiency than yours.

Our main source of heat is this fire. It's such a lovely, toasty, atmospheric sort of heat. Takes a bit to get it going, but it is nice.  Though I questioned James' sanity as he jack-hammered through our cement foundation, I now say it was genius.  He installed a little fan under the fire that essentially propels warmed, fresh air out into the room.  It's fantastic!

They Really Need Some Mega-Fauna Here




Near Lake Pukaki en route from Mt. Cook National Park

 I struggle a little bit with reading retension at times.  If I'm not careful and deliberate, all the reading that I do just doesn't stick in my brain. This can be a problem for a PhD student.  So I have all sorts of tricks. I highlight, take notes in the margins, type up notes, and periodically summarize readings on a particular topic. It's incredibly time-consuming; but I seem to get there in the end. After a bit of internet research several months ago, I added a few new tricks to my routine. When approaching a new reading, I write down 5 terms I know will be in the reading. I read the title, all subtitles and then the conclusion first. Prior to reading the article, I write 3 sentences reflecting what I already know on this topic.

This last one is based on the idea that, as humans, we remember and make sense of new information by comparing it or adjoining it to something we already know. We all do this all the time. But, migrants in particular, vigorously engage in this process, especially in the early months or years in a new country. We've all done it and certainly heard others do it - for example, chipping in to a conversation with the phrase, "Well, where I come from, it's common to..."  Migrant research shows that a continual, subtle comparison between 2 places lasts for an immigrant's entire life. It's how migrants create continuity - across oceans, over time and between what would otherwise feel like disparate lives and selves.

A Busy Few Weeks and a Nice Summer Sunday

It's been quite a busy few weeks since I last wrote.  Here's a few things that have gone on:

• James and I had our 5 year anniversary!  Unfortunately we also had a doozy of a cold. We have yet to celebrate.
• I had my "6 month review" and I am now *officially* a PhD candidate at Otago. After a TON of work, the review was very anti-climatic.
• An article I wrote about older immigrants in NZ was accepted for publication in "Ageing and Society", a journal read only by academics interested in ageing, but hey, that's somebody!
• I finally vacuumed the house.
• Spurred on by Air New Zealand's announcement of an upcoming additional fuel-surcharge, I bought tickets to America for November 2011!  I'll be over there for a month! 
• Thanks to a friend who is a physio, I have a new workout regime to help with some pain and headaches I've had since my bike crash. Thanks, Dan!
• James took a couple of days and climbed Mitre Peak in Fjordland.  Conveniently, this trip took place right when I entered the insane "do not disturb me" mode leading up to the aforementioned 6 month review. 
• I started teaching at university level for the first time ever - running 200 level anthropology seminars.
• I got a hair cut.

After some weeks of ridiculous busy-ness and some anxiety, it was nice to spend this weekend relaxing in Dunedin.  We celebrated our friend Nick's birthday on Saturday night. On Sunday, we made the most of a sunny, warm day by hiking up the local Mr. Cargill with some friends. After not having much of a summer in the way of weather, this was a much appreciated, gorgeous day.

Relaxing in the sun on the summit of Dunedin's Mt. Cargill.

Dunedin Does Its Part

While Christchurch continues to grapple with liquefaction, aftershocks and a rising death toll, many people here in Dunedin are searching for what they can do.  There is almost a desperation in the air, as people long to do something. 

Perhaps that's why today's collection of bagged lunches has been such a huge success. 

University of Canterbury based Student Volunteer Army received a fair amount of media attention after they formed and mobilized themselves, largely via Facebook, after the September quake. (Yet again, behold the power of social media!)  They have mobilized again and thousands of student volunteers are expected to respond to calls for non-emergency assistance around the quake zone. I checked out their website and it is strikingly simple in this day of hyped up media everything. It is strictly functional. Either register that you need non-emergency help. Or that you are available to help.  Follow their updates on Facebook.

A message requesting bagged, non-perishable lunches for the Student Volunteer Army went out to Dunedin yesterday. The goal: to collect 10,000 lunches.  With two hours of collection left today, I believe they now have over 14,000 lunches. 

You Know, the Matukituki

One detail about moving to a new town in a new country that I never would have anticipated is the frequent inability to participate in many group conversations about people (I don’t know) and events and places (I’m not familiar with). We all know this scenario – you’re with a friend and a bunch of their friends that you don’t know well, or you’re with your spouse and his or her coworkers and they’re all talking about their workplace politics or the nasty management folks. You just smile, nod and maybe sneak a peek at your watch after a while.

The Matukituki!

When you are a new (or relatively new) migrant, this happens a lot – and not just about people you don’t know yet, but about politics, historical common knowledge, pop culture and places. That’s why a lot of migrants talk about where they come from a lot and start many bits of input with “well, in America” or “back in Alaska”. Even though you cringe when you hear those words come out of your mouth (“this one time, in band camp”), for a long time that’s the only way you can chime into the conversation at all; that’s all you can offer. It takes a while to accumulate a stock of local knowledge and experiences to draw upon, allowing you to join into a chat with a group of local folks.

Just a Little Bike Crash

Today, I had my first ever ambulance ride and some opportunity to experience and reflect on New Zealand's healthcare system and ACC system (Accident Compensation Corportion).

The reason was a little bicycle crash.

I was zooming down George Street (Dunedin's main drag) just before 10:00 on a Sunday morning. With hardly any traffic on the road, I noticed the smell of wood fires in the air. It's been stupidly cold and wet lately - summer, I don't think so!  But I was thinking that I'm looking forward to winter - shorter, slower days sound good after two summers in a row of long, manic ones - when, Wha-bam, someone in a parked car openned her door at the exact moment I was flying by.  It's hard for me to say, really, but judging from the size of the bruise on my leg, I think my shin and handle bars collided with her door and I flew off my bike diagonally, tumbled down the street a couple of times and ended up on my back in a bit of an awkward, twisted position. 

Thanks for coming, Mom.

For some reason, my husband and I always seem to make the cross-Pacific journey separately. In this case, his work contract did not finish until after I was expected to be at uni starting my PhD program. So my mom saw an opportunity: accompany me to New Zealand and help me get settled. Without James around, it seemed like a good time for her to stay for 3 weeks, a little longer than she might otherwise. Personally, I think she could stay as long as she’d like regardless, but she values being what she thinks is a considerate mother-in-law. In addition to helping me cart all my things from North America to New Zealand, and the opportunity to watch reruns of the Gilmore Girls without annoying my husband, what my mom perhaps didn’t realize was that by coming with me, she was also my little piece of continuity, a thread to sew my two worlds together.

Sight.

In her essay, The Way Winter Comes, Alaskan author Sherry Simpson writes, "What I really want - others confess this longing too - is for the land to possess me, to name me." She considers that people spend a lot of time trying to figure out who they are, or how to belong. But perhaps the more important task is to consider the place. And so she gives up on her effort to belong by naming things around her and hoping the place will name her in return. Instead, she just offers simple descriptions of her immediate surroundings, which places her right there within them. And so I am inspired to do something similar – solidify my relationship with this place just by observing it, through all five of my senses.

I’ll start with sight because that’s easy: Alaska is feast for the eyes. A splendid wonderland of visual awe. Last week, a friend, Katie, called and before I could say hello she asked, in hurried tones, “What are you doing right now? Can you be down at the dock in 15 minutes? For a flight-seeing tour?" I issued a one word response, "Yes!"