Inevitable Comparisons



A bit of West Coast 'highway'.

I think it's natural, even unavoidable, for a migrant with two or more countries to compare 'here' to 'there'. I try not to do it TOO much, at least not out loud, because I know it gets old for people to hear.  But I believe it's a necessary and common way for many migrants to create links between what are otherwise often disparate 'lives.'  

And yet, while I value this comparison, and believe it will (and should) continue (to some degree) for many migrants throughout their migrant existance, I also find myself not needing to do quite as much of it lately. And I recognize that to be significant too.  In some ways, I am more able to let here be here.  This place, any place, just is what it is.  And lately, in many ways, I've been able to live a bit more in just this time and place.  This year, my 5th in New Zealand, I have been feeling - at best - more enjoyment and comfort in life here, or - at worst - simply resigned to life here.  (Hey, being "resigned" to something may not sound as nice but it is still a form of acceptance that I will embrace!)

Last week I had a chance to do a bit of comparison -- between 'here' and 'there' (Alaska and New Zealand) and between 'now' and 'then.'  "Now," is January 2012 and "then" is 8 years ago, January 2004 when I first arrived in New Zealand. Within weeks of showing up at the Dunedin Airport with a suitcase and a backpack, I had bought a $700 car and started driving around the South Island by myself.

This road trip included some time on the West Coast of the South Island - known for its wild terrain and narrow, windy roads where 2nd gear is common.

Its notorious for its heavy rainfall and dense temperate rainforest. 

It's famous for magnificent mountains rising from the sea, with glaciers pulsing down the valleys.

 It is remote and sparsely populated.  Sound and look familiar?  Hm, just like Southeast Alaska.

I have not been back to the West Coast much at all since 2004. Until last week. In 2004, I was a bit homesick.  I was a little bit nonchallant and unattached in relation to the staggering beauty of the West Coast.  Afterall, I'd come from, dare I say it, a place where the glaciers flowed even grander, the forest grew even more densely, the weather was even worse, the population was even smaller and quirkier, and many things could eat you.  Maybe.  I suppose, in hindsight, I had a bit of trouble just enjoying what I was seeing on the West Coast because I was so freshly removed from Alaska -- and, I knew I'd be going back.

Now I have been away from Alaska for 18 months - this time - and perhaps more significantly, I don't know when I'll return, either to visit or to live. So last week I visited the West Coast with less-biased, less divided eyes.  And what I found was SO wonderful.  I found that the West Coast is strikingly beautiful.  It's wet and wild and remote.  It's covered in native New Zealand bush with kea flying overhead and fantails buzzing you.  I found that driving my little car along the only bit of space between the sea and peaks was breath-taking.

I walked to hidden lakes and remote beaches.

Koru, or a fern frond and a NZ icon, with lake. 

I watched sunsets and hung out under the full moon. 

This time, I was just a little bit more "here." 

But I'd be lying if I didn't mention that along with my new-found appreciation for enjoying the West Coast for just exactly what it is, I love that it just feels so... Familiar.

This could be SE Alaska or West Coast, New Zealand!!

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.

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.

The Catlins

My first trip to The Catlins - with James in 2004.

This weekend we (James, Nick, Kelly and myself) headed down to The Catlins.  It was Nick's idea, as the surf at Purakanui Bay was supposed to be perfect.  I don't surf -- but any reason is a good one to head down to The Catlins.

Nick and Kelly's tent at our camp site.

Kelly walking at Purakanui Bay.

The Catlins is the name of a region south of Dunedin. Hills covered in dense temperate rainforest roll right down to the edge of stunning, seemingly untouched beaches. Until very recently, the only main road through the region was gravel. Most of the smaller roads are still narrow and gravel, undulating and curving with the landscape. Travel along these roads, from a scenic waterfall, to ocean side caves, to an inland walk, is slow.  And gorgeous.

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.

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.

Two Days of Dunedin Discoveries

I do a lot of reading on "home" for my studies and came across this idea the other day: When discussing the nebulous concept of home, a distinction must be made between the actual geographic location of a place a person lives and where that person feels that she belongs.

Looking back along the peninsula from Tairoa Head

In New Zealand, I have struggled to feel that I belong.  I believe one reason is the lack of a feeling of connection to NZ's landscape.  Who could deny NZ's landscape is awe-inspiringly beautiful? Not me! It's stunning and I don't take that for granted - I am lucky to live in one of the world's most beautiful countries. But to date, while I appreciate and enjoy its beauty, I look around and I'm just not sure, yet, if I belong. I can look at it like a pretty painting, but I don't feel immersed in it. Maybe I don't feel quite welcomed yet. I still feel like a visitor. If I even just see a photo of Southeast Alaska or familiar parts of America, I have an instant sense of attachment, warmth, welcome, even possibility. It can be lonely, at times, to live without that sense of belonging in the place I'm standing. 

The logical part of me knows, of course, that it is rare (though not impossible) to feel 'at home' somewhere instantly, and that a slow evolution of feeling 'at home' is more common. None-the-less, that's perhaps been one of the most surprising challenges about migrating to NZ for me -- the amount of time that it really does take for a new country to feel like home.

That's why weekends like this past one are so helpful and encouraging.

Let the Pictures Do the Talking

My last few posts haven't involved any photographs.  And who doesn't love photos?  I do. So this entry uses several recent photos to depict a bit of my life here in New Zealand. Some of the pictures I took deliberately with this project in mind.  For others, I realized after taking them, that they say a lot...

So here it goes.

I get to enjoy this view, from the Staff Club at the U of Otago, several times a week.  It's a quintessential Dunedin, NZ view. The oldest buildings on "campus" (a word that I rarely hear NZ'ers use but am seemingly unable to delete from my vocabulary!) are local icons, the green hills are good representatives of the landscape and the "tussocks" (the plants on the deck) are common both in the wild hills and in urban landscaping. Sun makes sitting outside the club particularly enticing and I realized it is one of my favorite spots in all of Dunedin.