Oy.....
Chinese students are a very serious lot. They study all the time. When they don't study, they sleep. Any remaining time is split equally between computers, TV and eating. You can imagine the culture shock for them to be studying in New Zealand. They do nothing. Their idea of a good time is sleeping- and I don't mean with someone. (Not that they'd mind)

There was a bit of a culture shock for me in teaching here. I am an action girl. I don't understand any kind of inertia- if you knew me in Spain you knew how little I slept because I couldn't figure out which was more exciting, days or nights. There was so much to DO.

When Chinese students come here they will often choose an English name which they wear like a badge of individuality. They even refer to each other by their English names while speaking Chinese. Some of the teachers I've worked with have complained that students don't really "get" the English name. We've all had students like "Comma" and I got a "Lion" and a "Simbah" in the same week. It took a lot not to laugh. Occasionally I'll hear of a teacher refusing to call a student something "Prince" was one. (I met Prince yesterday- he's lovely!) :-) I hadn't yet come across one I was unwilling to use. Until yesterday...

Yesterday I had a new student come in.
His name is Xiou. I asked if he had an English name and he replied, "I am Hard." I bit my tongue and said "What??!" >he repeated, "Hard. You know, I work very hard. I study hard. Hard." I bit my lip, tried to breathe and turned red from trying not to laugh and finally gave in with tears in my eyes. My students were amazed and all trying to guess what the matter was. I said, "I'm sorry. I can't call you that. Umm...it's a sexual reference to say 'I am hard' in English. Um...(laughter) umm... would you like another English name...ummm...like uh...You know, I can call you by your Chinese name. It's perfectly fine." He acquiesced although he looked a bit confused and potentially hurt (bad form for me to laugh like that). It took me another several minutes to be able to compose myself completely.

Today at the break, the students gathered round and asked again about it. They were mystified and fascinated and definitely wanted to get to the bottom of this mystery. I'm usually most dignified and yet always willing to talk about anything including sex and bad language if they have questions. To see me effectively lose it for about 5 minutes and then periodically throughout the lesson was a very strange experience warranting further investigation.

I explained that saying, "I am Hard." in English had a sexual meaning and I demonstrated with my hands (vaguely) while adding words like erectionand sexually excited and the oldest male student suddenly got it, laughed and explained to Xiou in Chinese. Xiou turned red. You could almost see him thinking back to how many people he had said, >"I am Hard.” to. (ROFL) After thinking for a while he thanked me for letting him know. Apparently I was the first to mention it. He looked mortified. (ROFL)

Ok. Signing off. I'm laughing so hard that tears are in my eyes....rofl...

Technical difficulties...
I've had some technical difficulties with posting over the last two weeks. I'm happy to say that although my hair is an abomination in the morning, it's now pretty sexy by day (or completely covered by a hat as it was this weekend when not even water would make it come down!!).

The rain has returned to New Zealand and I'm thinking I need a longer rain coat- why on earth does it rain sideways and upside-down?!! Umbrellas are completely useless.

On hair...

Ok, I've been saving money and cutting my own hair now for a year and a half. It's gone from shoulder length to chin length to cheek to almost spiky.

Last night I went over the top.

When I first began cutting my hair it was a money saving thing. I was living in Boston and working very hard to save everything I owned towards a great unknown (also I owed several thousand dollars to the IRS). To begin I would drink two glasses of wine and then dive right in. I did a great job. I got lots of compliments. The greatest thing Meg Ryan ever did was to make messy hair super stylish. Messy works for me. I like rolling out of bed, looking at my hair, grunting and then putting on something fashionable and leaving 15 minutes later. Everyone at work simply assumes you're cool and on top of things. There's actually a brand of products called Bed Head- DESIGNED to help your hair look as if you just rolled out of bed!! I don't have to do it on purpose- I just don't bother. Of course I'll texturize my hair (read that: I'll make it look dirty too) with hair wax or styling creams. That's easy enough. Put some stuff on your hands, rub them together and mess up your hair even more...instant fashion statement and you don't even have to wake up for it!

It's amazing.

My hair became shorter and shorter little be little. In Spain somewhere back in February I made the really funky jump in my hairstyle by going a little crazy with the scissors. It was scary at first, but soon I was finding myself cutting my hair not just when it needed it, but when I was bored. If my hair felt a little long I would quietly obsess about it until I was home alone for at least 30 minutes. I didn't even have to drink anymore. To do the back I didn't even look. I just felt it with my hands and cut behind my head. After quite a bit of cutting I'd double check the result and do any cleaning up that was necessary. Still the compliments poured in. I began cutting my friends' hair as well.

Luckily in Spain I was rarely bored. However, there were a couple of nights near the end when I played the recluse and found myself in the bathroom fighting with the scissors and my near desperate need to create with my hair. The unknown was so exciting! One night my friend Sarah did a bit of a intercession- "Willow, put the scissors down, step out of the bathroom. Your hair is lovely and no more needs to come off. You will now proceed to my house where you will drink Sangria until your hair is duly forgotten." Having just rediscovered my childhood cowlick, I agreed that this was best, although I couldn't help one last snip before leaving (it was uneven, I swear).

In New Zealand my hair went from short to very short. Actually, the worst of that was last night. I didn't drink first, I didn't' use the mirror, I was in a dark room and I kept interupting the cut for conversations with my flatmates...needless to say, it was a bad cut. It could have been worse of course, and has been in the past (but only by professionals). Sigh. I think that this is going to take a few weeks to grow out. So sad. So very sad.

If only it wasn't such fun to create with hair or if I had enough other people to satisfy my desire I wouldn't have to keep on my own hair everytime.

Such is the life of an extremist.

A car...
This seems a great presumption to me.

I've just negotiated the purchase of a 1985 Honda Accord with a pristine interior. The outside looks pretty good too except that it looks as if it was rearended pretty hard and then fixed afterwards. The company that I would be purchasing it from had just gotten it in, and had not yet cleaned it up.

I haven't owned a car in almost 4 years. It's a big responsibility- one that does not suit me well. I like driving, but owning not so much. If things go wrong with a car then you have to pay more money to fix them.

Juergen of course is pleased because if I have a car, then I can drive him to the thermal pools...grin.

Oy. Such a big responsibility. I don't know if I WANT to own a car. Computers no problem, even though they are much more expensive than the car. My Sam is worth as much as this car is. Then there is insurance, and this car is an automatic and has power steering- neither of which I approve of. Still, it IS a very nice little car. Never owned a Honda. Driven a few, and loved driving them. Oy. definitely unsure about this.

On a brighter front, I found a backpack this weekend. This is of great import because last time I looked for a year before finding a rucksack (not a proper traveling or tramping pack) in Canada. As I am kid sized, even the small women's size doesn't fit. God bless those Kiwis!! Not just one, but TWO packs fit me and one of them was on sale for half price. It's fully adjustable, carries 70 liters plus a detachable daypack. It has a cushion for lumbar support and the shoulder straps are fully adjustable not just by pulling them tighter, but you can make the whole strap move up and down as needed. Then there are inumerable straps to tighten and adjust so as to make it fit you perfectly. It's amazing. I highly recommend New Zealand as a place to buy a pack. It was only $219 New Zealand dollars ($110 US or Euros, or 73 British Sterling Pounds) I was in the market for a new one as my other one had ripped in several places and was a bit too small besides. This one when full I will have to be careful not to tip over backwards- trying it on with a couple of tents in it and walking around the store feeling its balance I had a vision of me falling over backwards with my hands and legs in the air unable to get up or flip over much like a June beetle that has just crash landed. The only comfort in this vision was that unlike a June beetle, I can unloose the straps that hold my shell to me. For this I am truly grateful.

I have already begun thinking about the things that I will leave behind when I depart New Zealand. Sadly when you have so few things, you wear them out a lot faster than you do when you have many things. One pair of boots will go- maybe both. One pair of jeans that just don't fit anymore. Possibly my clogs as well, probably some of my sandals. I have my eye on a rain coat which would happily make umbrellas unnecessary. Also, it has the distinction of not only being long, but lightweight and fern green instead of Kermit meets a nuclear accident green. Of course I'm completely bogged down with sweaters- I own three. Different weights of course- ranging from really warm although not terribly bulky to warm but lightweight very breathable but smells like a baby alpalca when even slightly damp to one that just makes me happy to wear. Sigh. Stuff does hold on you. The books are the worst. One almost cannot help but add books to ones collection. Perhaps Zorba will take those off of me. I came here with much, but what I most wanted was left to trail behind me in Spain for many months. (My sweet Gabriella- my cat).

Brazil....
Two weekends ago Jeannine returned to Germany. The weekend before while running errands we came across an interview/article in a magazine describing in detail getting a Brazilian for the first time. It was like a car wreck- we couldn't look away and read the whole article while squirming, crossing our legs and making contorted faces of sympathetic pain.

Later that same day we were sitting on a bench in the sun trying to think of the bravest thing we could possibly do since the Waitomo caves were now out of the question...I don't know who thought of it first but we just looked in askance at one another with a "Would you..?", "Would YOU...?" (deep breath) We agreed that we could just ask and take the answer as a sign. Our bench was facing a sign of a beauty salon. We shuffled down the stairs and looking a little bashful I asked if they had a list of services. Skimming down the list...yep. Brazilian. Oh. Ok. Sure. The young woman immediately picked up on the one word and that it was probably our first time. Yes, she had tried it once and the skin technician they had was very thoughtful and very careful...she tried to insure the least amount of pain possible. (gulp) "We'll take two." Next Friday. Jeannine would take 4-5pm and I would take the 5pm-6pm slot as I taught until 4:20. Jeannine looked alarmed but I promised to come down as soon as I finished class.

The following Friday (a few short days ago) I got a message on my phone saying that sadly Jeannine's bus wouldn't make it until 5pm.

I went immediately after school and arrived at 4:25pm. Out of breath and with a bit of a wild look about me (I had after all had to run a block to make the bus) the woman showed me to a lovely sitting room and gave me a glass of water with a lemon and the napkin neatly twisted around the glass ever so stylishly and said that she was ready but if I would like to sit for a few minutes it would be fine. I thanked her.

I never know what to do in situations that require that one takes one clothes off in front of strangers. There always seems to be an etiquette but I'm never sure what it is. I'm basically a modest person. In Canada when I had my legs done I was shown into a room and then the girl waited staring at me before saying "Well, take them off." So I took off my jeans while she was watching and climbed onto the table in my underwear. It was totally weird. When I went to just have a conversation with my new Dr. in Boston he wanted to have an exam and required me to strip into a paper gown. I was mortified...I was braless and wearing lacy thong underwear. It never occurred to me that I would have to undress. When I had my moles removed I was wearing a lace teddy. Again. I didn't see how a mole on my arm would require removing all of my clothing and lying on an operating table surrounded by 8 people including a couple of students.

So...back to Brazil. After catching my breath and with these thoughts racing through my mind I let her know that I was ready. She led me to a room and handed me a pair of paper thong underwear. I was instructed to put them on backwards as the small side was the one she needed, and to take my time. I put on the paper thong and waited nervously. I looked down. "Oi. That's a whole lot of hurt I've just set myself up for.." I spied a robe on the door, so I put it on while I waited. She came in the room with a sympathetic smile. Indicating the robe she said that I didn't really need it as she would just get wax all over it. Ok. Fine. Right. Deep breath.

The wax she used was amazing. It was this heavy pink hot wax that became a bit like rubber when it cooled. It took up everything by the root first try! Yes. Of course is hurt. Ever so much. This was the absolute first time I've ever held and rubbed my bared nether regions in front of a stranger, but I had no qualms about doing so after the hair had been ripped out by the root..it was a feeling of soothing comfort. For that matter she didn't seem to mind.

For those of you who've never heard of a Brazilian, think about the little tiny swimsuits ever so famous in Brasil. Now think about the wax job to make your bikini line fit under those suits. Brazilian waxes are very popular in Europe now and I had heard about them in Spain and was curious. A friend here gets them done and she was so casual and knowing about the whole thing that I knew it was inevitable that I try. I never could stand to hear about things and not know of them personally.

Towards the end the lovely woman was begging me to not suffer anymore. What did a little bit matter? I agreed and she evened up leaving behind a one inch strip. I have a lovely combination of very soft and delicate skin with my red blond hair that does not appreciate being pulled out by the root and fights every step of the way.

Once finished I felt bad about Jeannine not showing up for hers so I asked to wax under my arms as well. Dear GOD!!! THAT HURT!!!!!!
The Brazil was nothing on that one!!
At one point I had the woman in stitches because with my one free hand I was holding my breast to keep the skin taught under my arm so that it would hurt less. However, it hurt so very much that a battle for control of my hand played across my face until my mouth finally won and my hand shot up into my mouth so that I could bite hard (thus deferring the pain a bit). She laughed so hard and then asked if she should get another technician to come in to either hold my breast or so that I could bite them. ..
Ok. All done. The pain of Brazil is forgotten for the extreme pain under my arms. I dressed, said my good-byes, paid and proceeded to the nearest wine store where I picked out and paid for a bottle while never once putting my arms to my sides. Of course I didn't NEED a drink after all of this- I just really wanted one. Or four. After that I considered walking home and decided that there are times when one just needs a bus. I sauntered across that street like a bowlegged cowboy waiting to draw his guns.

I made it home, (arms carefully lifted and never at my sides) curled up on the couch and proceeded to drink my bottle of wine through a movie and before heading out to meet Jeannine for her last night at the Coyote Ugly. Believe it or not I even danced!

A real live Kiwi bird...
Jeannine's last day we went to the Zoo with her friend Jessica. It was a depressing thing. The animals didn't look very happy and the overall atmosphere was one of gloom, however the Kiwi was pretty cool. Before they began their kiwi breeding program little was known about kiwis except that they were dying off at alarming rates. The zoo breeds them and then releases them into the wild when they are old enough to fend for themselves.

Jessica's pain...
After the zoo we had lunch and Jessica had decided to get her tongue pierced. She was very nervous and we had to wait half an hour besides. When she was called in Jeannine and I were not allowed to come in with her. We were devastated. We had so very much wanted to watch (what's the good of your friend getting her tongue pierced if you can't watch?) We waited and waited and waited and were going stir crazy with the wait when we decided to stand near the window. The window into the piercing room had mini-blinds and we discovered that we could watch through the little tiny holes in the sides where the string goes! Over joyed we watched poor frightened Jessica looking terrified as she talked and talked and talked with the piercer. At one point we got excited because her tongue was being dried off and held, but then she looked very scared again and nothing more happened. The running commentary went something like this, "Oh! Look, they're about to do it! Look! They! No. Oh! Jessica!! We have to go, just do it!!" ..."she looks so scared! I wish we could hold her hand." ..."Oh! Can you see? They're taking it out of the plastic. This is it! She looks as if she might faint. Oh! Oh! Can you see it?! Wow!! That's a HUGE needle!!" ..."Oh my...Oh! Oh! Ew! Wow! OW!! That looks painful!! They've got it through..WOW. THat's amazing! Did you see that?!! It's done!! HURRAH!!!HURRAHH!!" Then there was some dancing and clapping around the waiting room. Afterwards Jeannine invaded the piercing room because Jessica still hadn't shown herself. When she came out she looked rather sour and said that we sucked. At the moment of the worst pain she suddenly heard clapping and yelling and cheering and knew we were somehow watching. We were very very kind to her after that. Grin. Jeannine declared that we had all been bonded in pain (Jeannine had had her tongue pierced the Friday that we went to the Bay of Islands).

I helped Jeannine pack and then saw her off to the airport where we had one last drink. I'll miss her.

Good luck Jeannine. I hope to see you just after Christmas in Barcelona. I've had a great time with you here!

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