ONE HELPFUL WORKSHOP AFTER ANOTHER

I spent the entire weekend indoors, in workshops mainly that informed the attending students about just about anything on research. The workshops were very comprehensive and detailed, containing ideas on good research techniques, how to frame our research, to centralize our research topic, etc., all of which re-energized my brain and triggered ideas on how to further narrow down my topic.

Saturday seems like a blur now, but everything given was a mouthful and I had to go on one of my walks in order for the information to foment and be processed into something academic sounding. It came to me as I reentered the dirt trail leading to the parking lot behind Fergusson Halls. Happily, this refocusing of my research question has brought me closer to the central theme of my dissertation. 

Sunday, today, was the final day. It wasn’t as long or as packed as Saturday, and the workshop sessions forced me to think about something that I hadn’t really incorporated into my other research endeavors: the self in relation to the subject. Here in New Zealand, they seem to encourage taking this factor into account. I think it challenges readers to think about the relationship between researcher and the studied, perhaps even encourages readers to ponder over whether or not this relationship is significant to achieving objectivity, if that makes any sense. 

I’ve heard this comment over and over from various professors and researchers – no research is value free – but simply by acknowledging one’s personal motivation, even one’s alliance with the subject matter in terms of shared experiences or even something as superficial as appearances, the reader injects objectivity into the way he/she receives the research findings. The reader is forced to separate him/herself from the researcher, done so by discerning the elements in the study that might be influenced by the researcher’s personal relationship to them, and weighs them against other findings. Put another way, the subjectivity of the researcher forces the reader to be more discriminating about the findings exposited in the study.

At the end of the day, I went for my walk again, exploring the trails winding uphill to . . . where? Somewhere. 

I opted to follow the heritage trail, where I learned about Morrow’s contribution to Massey University before continuing on to Collison Road. I sighted cows, sheep, and the John Dyer residence hall. One cow’s udders were so full that I was tempted to milk her to alleviate the extra weight I knew she was carrying.

I marvel still at the similarity between the landscape surrounding the university and Sunderland. I appreciate the university’s connection to agriculture because I know how vital it is to feeding New Zealand’s population.          

MASSEY UNIVERSITY IN PALMERSTON NORTH

After the city sights of Auckland, where I did a quick head, shoulders, and head massage and walked around the ferry area a bit, Palmerston North is so much more tranquil. At the end of the day, after hours of studying and attending workshops, having access to walking trails that are surrounded by bush and streams is a plus to studying at Massey University.

I also had a chance to sight the rainforests of New Zealand on the ride to Palmerston North. I boarded the NakedBus at 7am and by exactly 7:15 am, I was off. Very much like the Japanese way of working, people in New Zealand like to keep schedule and I learned that the NakedBus drivers aren’t really very different.

After the bus left Hamilton Center, where I boarded the connecting bus, the surrounding environment was pretty much greenery. I saw countless sheep grazing the hills and numerous Swiss, milking cows sitting on the grass. It reminded me of the Sunderland countryside.

The highlight of the trip, the part where I guessed I developed motion sickness, was the winding bits. We went down and around, down and around mountains, descending onto vast areas of streams and rainforests. I thought I sighted a tucan sitting on a branch, a very colorful bird, but I’m not sure whether there are tucans in New Zealand. Needless to say, the entire scenery was utterly breathtaking.The Naked Bus had a 40-minute stop in North Plymouth (a name shared by the first Puritan colonial settlement in Massachusetts), a seaside community about a 3-hour drive from Palmerston North. The first thing I saw as we drove to the center of North Plymouth was a pharmacy, where I eventually bought “Nausicalm”, a motion sickness medicine that settled my undulating nausea. The second thing I saw when the bus parked was a female-only waiting shelter across the street. It resonated, I guessed, of Maori tradition, where women are given separate congregation areas to do their private business. Native Hawaiian women also have such a tradition.The rest area contained a bathroom and a sitting room, where three elderly women sat as I walked in. I liked the atmosphere - the protected seclusion it promised me as I headed over to the bathroom.

When I finally arrived in Palmerston North, after a long, 10-hour bus ride, a fellow student awaited me. I knew immediately who he was when I saw him sitting on the bench; I had tentatively suggested to Christine that he meet me at the bus port, as I might not know how to get to campus. We greeted each other, after which we grabbed a taxi (which takes Eftpos cards, by the way – very convenient if one doesn’t have any cash), and immediately headed to Atawhai (pronounced Atafai) Village. My room at the end of the hall contains a sink, desk, dresser, and bed. A heater is attached to the wall for those cold days. The Campus Living Villages staff had prepared for my arrival; I found clean sheets on the bed and dishes in a black, reusable shopping bag on the desk when I entered my bedroom. Unlike the other rooms in our flat, my sink is around the corner from the doorway, so I have a bit of privacy if I keep the door ajar.

Although jetlagged and tired and still recovering from my nausea the student accompanied me to Countdown, a supermarket in the same mall as Kmart (think USA), to buy groceries. I also bought all the necessary items for moving in. So, the next morning, I had coffee, crumpets topped with low salt, feta cheese, and scrambled eggs garnished with sautéed mushrooms. Not a bad first evening in Palmerston North.  

AUCKLAND AT LAST

My flight hit the tarmac at exactly 6:15am this Wednesday morning. (My blogs are a day late because I’ve been too lazy to access internet on schedule during my travels). I arrived to a very welcoming environment and an efficiency that I soon learned was exhibited at every agency I encountered today. I first saw it at the customs desk; the customs agent merely looked at my visa, stamped my passport, and passed me through. In the United States, whenever I return, I get asked a myriad of questions, as if I was under suspicion for something bad. On top of this Spanish inquisition-like interrogation, they are rude to me. Besides the politeness and the professionalism, the Auckland airport security personnel were very good about directing the human traffic through all the security checkpoints. One final scan of my bags upon departing the customs area and I arrived at baggage claim. I waited several minutes before I sighted my grey luggage emerging around the corner on the carousel. Happy and relieved to know that my luggage had not gotten lost or strayed in-flight, I proceeded to exchange my currency at the Traveller’s Express booth and subsequently walked over to the traveler’s corner to reserve a dorm bed at the Camel Nomad.

I should also mention that the traveler’s corner at the airport contained a lot of information, a feature essential for those without possession of the Lonely Planet. I sighted accommodation directories for both the North and South Islands, among other helpful information. I also learned that the AirBus Express arrives every 10 minutes, often enough to make transitioning to the hostel convenient and smooth. The AirBus Express even sponsors a booth, where people can purchase tickets before boarding between 7am and 7pm. Adapters can also be purchased for NZD$20.00. The plus side about using this public transportation service is that the staff seemed to be very knowledgeable. The driver knew exactly which zone I would have to get off at after I presented the name of the hostel to him.

The ride to Auckland central took about 30 minutes. Within minutes – following a short walk from the bus stop along Front Street – I arrived at the hostel doors. The clerk remembered me from the phone and booked me in for this evening. The hostel allows travelers to store luggage in the luggage room for free, as check-in doesn’t occur until 1pm.

Along the way, I noticed a BNZ branch on Queen Street. So, after a brief breakfast at the ubiquitous Burger King chain, I walked across the street and showed one of the bank clerks the letter I received from the bank a month ago, signifying the holding account I had opened on line. The bank manager was very helpful and the entire process took probably less than 30 minutes. During this time, not only did I deposit my money into my account, but I also received my Eftpos card, which allows me to pay for charges immediately.

The day’s final errand was purchasing my NakedBus bus ticket. This bus, I was told, can be very busy. They charge an extra NZD$10.00 if the weight is over the upper limit of 20kg, but at the discretion of the driver. However, it is a small payment in light of the low price of NZD$39.00 for a one way ticket on an 8-hour ride. Compare this price to 45.00 or 31.00 for a 4-hour ride to NYC from Amherst. 

The NakedBus stop on Quay Street is a very convenient distance from the Nomad hostel. The same agency that sells the bus ticket, "4Sightseeing", gave me a free SIM card, but I haven't figured out how to work it on my motorola cell phone.

At one hour before check-in, I’m going to head over to the water front to enjoy the pre-summer breeze rolling in from the ocean. I can feel it from the Seattle Espresso café, where I am writing the draft of this blog.   

ARRIVING IN LA: CITY OF ANGELS

I never understood why LA became known as the city of angels. The crazy maze navigating passengers from the domestic terminal to international departures required a bit of skill and patience (as for the latter, I'm work on building every day) and as usual I didn’t get the full story from the people in the know and from passersby about the exact location of the connecting shuttles. To get to the Air New Zealand departure section, I had to go out the baggage claim area and run over to the left to get the shuttle. Not such an angelic area to maneuver around. The shuttle turned out to not be far from where I was, but the distance was enough to be reminded of the stifling humidity of LA, a familiar sensation from previous visits. I could already feel perspiration pressing through the pores on the back of my neck, at the base of my hair follicles, and my upper lip. The worst thing about all this grimy humidity is the greasy hair that I know I’ll end up with by tomorrow morning.

Despite the trickiness and the heat, I managed to pass through airport security with little fanfare. My only complaint was being made to go through the process of taking out my belt, belongings, shoes . . . well, any of you who have traveled know how cumbersome the security measures can be.

On a side note - I saw Tim Daly standing by the carousel in the baggage one area. He’s much shorter in person than I had perceived, as he appears to tower over Addison, his former love in "Private Practice", on the tv screen. The black, horn-rimmed glasses sitting on his very prominent nose made him look professorial and extremely handsome – more so in person - especially with his hair sticking up from sleeping (I presume) during his flight and looking so very casual.

I finally got my much-desired red wine at the tiny pizzeria eatery not far from Gate 25. The late night travelers look sleepy; the tv is loud above the clink, clink, clink of glasses and beer bottles being cleared by the bar help; a baby is cooing in the corner. The barbecue chicken salad I ate was the perfect antidote to my rumbling stomach. In about two and a half hours, I’ll be up in the air again and probably eating . . . again. 

The wine is doing its job. I’m starting to feel sleepy and relaxed, if not a little loopy. I hope I don’t doze through my flight. I should probably wait by the gate now.

DEPARTING JFK ON THE SECOND LEG OF MY TRIP

Up at 5:30 am, much earlier than the crack of dawn, to catch dear old Peter Pan Bus to Kennedy Airport – so begins my journey to Auckland. I was half an hour early, so I stopped into Amherst Coffee and sipped a strong, roast coffee while I waited patiently for the driver. My mind strayed to my luggage, knowing that it would be more than the 50 pound limit allowed for these cheap tickets. Poverty doesn’t gain one any favors, that’s for sure.

As I mentally ticked off all the sweaters, pants, shoes, and books I packed, I realized I could have probably done away with most of them. I prefer to pack light and I generally bring more than is necessary. Experience should have informed me this time that I would not use all that I bring, but as usual I thought into the future to the next three years, knowing there were items I might need and knew I didn’t want to buy in New Zealand. 

After checking in, I discovered that the damage wasn’t so bad, as the extra baggage fee was worth a mere USD$70.00. The ticketing agent explained that even though the itinerary was shared with United Airlines, the flight technically belonged to Air New Zealand. Therefore, I was spared the normative USD$200.00 fee charged by UA. What a relief! The differences in fees did get me wondering about how these airline mergers benefit the airline companies. Specifically, how do the financial benefits to the passengers benefit the bottom line for the airlines?

Departing from any airport in NYC is a pain, to be sure. Besides the human congestion, anything could have gone wrong. Peter Pan was slightly late in arriving. I had a brief visit with the USPS, which rendered some delay. And, with the heavy traffic, there was no telling whether or not I would reach the airport with enough time to check in and pass through security without the usual stress levels associated with using public transportation. The airport bus shuttle picking up travelers from Port Authority was also slightly late and weaving through traffic took an entire hour. Anything could have gone wrong, so I was grateful to finally reach Terminal 7 with some time to spare. Unfortunately for me, the interlude between boarding and being cleared by airport security for boarding was short and provided only a minor relief from the nervous adrenaline in my veins induced by the minor obstacles during the transfers. I so wanted to relax with a glass of wine and simply write, but no such luxury on this occasion.

Welcome to My Study Blog

Tonight on this cool, pre-Autumn, evening, I begin my brand new blog about studying for my PhD in North Palmerston, New Zealand. After waiting anxiously for my student visa application to be approved, I am finally moving forward on this delicious and highly anticipated adventure.  I think it might be grueling.

Not quite packed completely, yet, but almost there. Always a last minute packer, but never a last minute planner. I've been thinking about my luggage for weeks, trying to imagine my student life and how I can pack lightly. Finally, I decided on one large, conventional luggage and one mid-sized backpack in case I want to trek to discover New Zealand's wild side.

As for my travel itinerary, I'll disembark in Auckland and bus it to Palmerston North, where I'll be for the next 3 to 4 years.