July 12 - Loopholes in Logistics

Meeting Jaclyn first thing in the morning at Auckland International is a bit of a logistical nightmare for me but that’s fine because I am partial to the idea of an airport reunion. I could fly in a day early and stay at a hostel in the city and organize some rendezvous with the help of public transit but that’s just not how I operate (too expensive). Instead I am posting ads on Gumtree and other social networking sites hoping that some random traveler with a vehicle is heading up that way in my window of opportunity and would be willing to accommodate me in return for the splitting of petrol costs; think of it as high tech hitchhiking. If that should fail I will see if any of the car rental companies need vehicles relocated to Auckland and thus afford myself a bit of flexibility as well as the chance to take a speedier yet more interesting route than the bus. Speaking of the bus, it takes 11 hours, which in all fairness would put me on an even keel with Jaclyn who will be fresh off a 14 hour flight but while it is cheap, the fact that my Ipod has recently kicked the bucket doesn’t make that long haul sound too appealing. This may sound like a nightmare scenario to most people but it’s the kind of interesting situation that I love working my way around. One of the first things I wanted to show Jaclyn in Auckland was Waiheke Island. It is the little tropical island 35 minutes by ferry where we spent our second day in the country and first got to drive on the left. Luck would have it that I made a friend a few days ago who grew up there and, despite being away from home frequently these days playing violin and touring with the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, she will be there the weekend that we had planned on spending in Auckland and has offered us a place to crash at her house which is by one of the more congenial beaches on the island. I hope to capitalize on the opportunity to jam with someone of her musical experience; maybe I can capture it on video with a vista of sea and sand behind us. I guess I’m getting soft after being away from Canada so long as I’m starting to grumble about the cold weather even though it still floats casually around 10 degrees every day. I’ve caught a cold for the first time in many months which threatens to put a damper on my last few days in the city but I’ll have to just acclimate to the situation. Since I was bedridden last night I reviewed all the short videos I’ve taken since arrival and I’ve got to say, once I compile them into a neat little package they’re going to make about an hour long film that will surely have people laughing. Hopefully this movie will include performances of the few songs I’ve written about my trip. I’d pondered about what I’d do on an 11 hour bus ride to Auckland sans Ipod if it came down to it and I figured that since I can’t write songs on the bus it would be an interesting experiment to write a short story with the duration of the bus ride as the time limit. This may be especially tricky if I take the overnight bus but that just means I’ll have the added advantage of writing the nonsense that can only be generated by the sleep deprived brain. Naturally I would post it in the blog should it occur and should I be satisfied with the results. I need to start thinking of a proper way to cap off my stay here in Wellington because as of right now, the only thing I’ve got planned is a little gathering for wine on Saturday before seeing the Harry Potter finale. There is however a bungee pod in the city center…

July 7th - The Best (and Worst) Things In Life Are Free

Lesson learned; the free gigs on Wednesday are free for a reason. Twice now I’ve gone to a venue on Cuba Street and had to wait hours for the band to take the stage only to be subjected to noise so heinous that my crew and I end up leaving after only a few ‘’songs’’. Tonight was especially excruciating and in hindsight, we should’ve gone and judged the book by its cover. They were a man and a woman, both dressed to the nines in makeup, wigs and skin-tight jeans with a random assortment of items for instruments including an Optimus Prime mask that modulated the user’s voice. They pranced about on stage to a pre-recorded back track, throwing candy at the audience and howling off-key. The man fell off the stage and broke his microphone stand during the first song but didn’t seem too concerned. I found it ironic that they were persistent in wasting precious minutes of stage time on tuning their guitars when it was clear they had no idea how to use them properly. Chelsea was wise enough to capture some video evidence of the affair on her smartphone though I’m not entirely certain I wish to relive that anytime soon. As poor as the music is on Wednesday nights, I’m going to miss the experience of it. Sadly there will not be too many more trips to the city center in the evening to meet up and continue our quest to find the best chai latte. After some serious soul searching I’ve decided to let Wellington go. After weeks of being in a jobless limbo the map of the country that I hung on my bedroom wall is speaking to me more clearly. I’ve decided to get back out on the road to see all the places on that map that I still haven’t seen. Chance would have it that Jaclyn arrives in Auckland on the precise day that my rent covers up to in Wellington so on a whim I asked if she’d agree to us meeting up and her letting me drive her about the country in a campervan that we’d split the cost of. It turns out she was more than game, perhaps influenced by my promise to take her to the Lord of the Rings filming sites that are so carefully displayed in the map book I bought. Now that I have something concrete on the horizon I suddenly find my optimism reignited. I’ve rekindled that indescribable feeling I had throughout my journey with Kelsey and upon my arrival here in Wellington. That spark has been sorely missed over the past couple of weeks as I became too caught up in my job search and forgot what was important. Even though it will be the polar opposite of my first road trip (I will be eating lots of budget beans and generally living like a homeless man) it will be just fine because the best things in life, aside from Wednesday night concerts in Wellington, are free. We’re going to do two more of the Great Walks, bringing my total to three, we will scale Mounts Maunganui, Ruapehu, and Taranaki in some form or another, and we will snap pictures of us doing the peace sign in all the famous film locations we can get to. I’d say it’s fair to say I’m as giddy as a schoolgirl. To conclude this preliminary farewell I must add that even though my time here in Wellington has been short, I will miss Sunday evening meals with my roommates. I will miss the pets, our Three Stooges; Pirate, Ninja and Morris. I will miss movie Tuesday and shitty gig Wednesday with Chelsea. I will miss running to Stellin Memorial park in the mornings but I won’t miss sucking wind on the way up there. I won’t miss getting cramps walking down the hills into the city center. I won’t miss having only 4 channels on the TV and I won’t miss not having central heating. Oh who am I kidding? I’ll be gone from here two days and I’ll be missing all those things. I really wish I could’ve had a bit more of a proper run at Wellington, it definitely has potential. That being said, I still have two weeks left here which includes two Sundays so I must be sure to cook up something extra special for our weekly flat meal. It will be hard to top my Canada Day feast from last Sunday that included poutine and pancakes. It’s always nice to be the one who introduces poutine to someone who’s never had it before.

June 29th - The Pretty Practical Parable

I’ve decided to take a different, albeit familiar approach to my current predicament as I’ve found that my current choice of wallowing in self-pity isn’t an efficient tool to dig oneself out of a period of stagnation. Allow me to explain; it’s no secret that I still have a laundry list of huge and ambitious endeavours I wish to accomplish and that by being so damn meticulous in my pre-trip planning and so scrupulous in my saving I have afforded myself the luxury of being able to survive, if not laugh in the face of this lull in progress. In retrospect, times like these are a forgotten part of the reason I came here. In that funny way that the worst times of Ireland became my fondest memories, so too shall I make the hardships of New Zealand become my greatest triumphs. The satisfaction of outsmarting all the curveballs life throws at you trumps all the other cheap thrills combined. Yes, the chink in the armour of this particular roadblock will be found and exploited the same way any steadfast traveller will find it, with a little luck and a lot of hope. While I was once of the mind that one couldn’t influence the other it has never ceased to amaze me how the former resulted from the latter ever since I arrived here. A big reason why this trip has been a resounding success so far is because of the positive outlook I’ve had since arrival because, if you haven’t noticed, I’m in the middle of making a dream into a reality. Rather than continue to bore you all with more longwinded prose that flirts with the idea of divulging some life lessons I am henceforth declaring a return to form; a resurrection of the fun-filled stories of yesteryear when I was not a cynical jobless pessimist but a free spirited bohemian with nothing plaguing my mind except the desire to regale everyone with the sensationalized accounts of my exploits. So, without further ado, I present the following true stories; here’s to hoping they incite me to implant myself into more situations worthy of retelling and thus revive the blog to its former glory!

My Californian friend Chelsea and I decided to take advantage of ‘Wellington Open Day’ this past Sunday where all the city’s attractions were available to enter by gold coin donation. Our first stop was the zoo which, like most other tourist traps, would normally cost one about $20. Upon entering we noticed a clever money-saving technique being employed; rather than actually housing any animals in the cages it appeared as though they just filled them with props to make it look like the animal’s habitat and neglected to actually have put the animal advertised on the sign inside. It’s actually rather ingenious; think about it, if anyone asked one could just say that the critter was sleeping or hiding and the illusion created by the carefully staged habitat would satisfy most people. Then again, maybe they were indeed sleeping or hiding and my lack of patience got the better of me though I prefer my reasoning to anything more rational. Being that it was essentially free to get in the zoo was especially busy that afternoon which meant we had to contend with armies of hyper children and parents with strollers. Despite arriving 15 minutes early for the endangered species viewing we still had an obscured view. The zookeeper was trying earnestly to give a speech concerning the conservation efforts for some of the animals in question but was being constantly interrupted by a six year old out front who was intent on being the center of attention. While explaining how a tuatara can hold its breath for over an hour the kid began boasting how he could easily outdo the lizard in a breath-holding competition. Before I could ponder whether or not to fight my way to the front of the crowd to slap some sense into him, the star attraction was unveiled; Tahi the one legged kiwi. They are a lot bigger than I’d anticipated but because he only had one leg he didn’t do much other than just sit there. Luckily for me there was a kiwi enclave nearby where a few are free to run around in a simulated environment. Unluckily for me, kiwis are nocturnal, and the room was near pitch black and filled with screaming children. I wanted to punch this one father who was gleefully stripping leaves from a tree in an endangered species zone and throwing them on his son’s head. Who does that? That’s like taking a famous painting off the wall and using the corners to scratch your ass. Other highlights of the zoo included seeing an otter trained to do tricks, being inches from two giraffes that got their necks entangled, and finally seeing a kangaroo. That evening I put forth an admirable effort to cook Cornish pasties for my roommates and Chelsea but it ended in failure, though nothing a little re-fry couldn’t fix. The chocolate chip cookies I baked for dessert more than made up for the undercooked main course and all was forgiven. It was a full day, and a fine one at that, a welcome change from the crushing disappointments and stress of job searching. Perhaps inspired by the day’s events I awoke the next morning and decided to pursue the gig as a delivery driver such that it would force me to purchase a vehicle making it easier to recreate days like last Sunday. I now play the waiting game, I find out this afternoon if I have the job that will see me make $5.50 per delivery and if it is a go then I am getting the car I went to inspect last night. Much like the shoes I got for free, to the chagrin of Kelsey, the car is about as ugly as they come. The upholstery is falling apart and the passenger side window was smashed by some hooligans, but most importantly it runs just fine. Most people would be put off by the aesthetics of the beast but thus I will be able to take advantage of the low price tag (about $750 Canadian) and with a little TLC, the car, along with myself will be back on our feet. I's not pretty but it's practical, like how I plan on tackling things from now on.

June 25th - Roll With The Punches

I guess this is what quitting smoking feels like; compare my bank account to a smoker’s lungs. Millions of years of evolution have made the human respiratory system an incredibly remarkable apparatus, capable of withstanding even the worst of what humanity has cooked up and inhaled for one purpose or another. While it didn’t take millions of years for my bank account to grow as much as it has, it certainly felt as long. I’ve been extremely blessed by family and well-wishers who, before this journey, padded my account with a donation here and there though in the grand scheme of things it has largely been by the sweat of my brow (drumming at Guitar Hero does make one rather sweaty) that I was able to amass the respectable amount I departed with. As the smoker is able to enjoy the occasional cigarette and not expect instantaneous death, I was able to be frivolous from time to time and not risk putting the long term life of my trip in jeopardy. Flash forward two months and while I’m no longer throwing away cash as fast as a chain-smoker relights, I am still unemployed yet responsible for the everyday expenses it takes to keep someone like me alive and stimulated. To be fair, even still I have more than enough money left to keep me alive and kicking until well after the Rugby World Cup but as I struggle to find employment, in spite of my credentials, the idea of going back to school becomes that much more appealing, and school doesn’t come cheap. There will come a time, potentially very soon, that I have to decide whether it’s in my best interest to continue waiting around for someone to hire me while my bank account dwindles or to take action, cut my losses and start conjuring some new plan, whatever it may be. Busking suddenly doesn’t seem like such a strange way to make a living anymore and I’ve seen countless guys out on the street who are infinitely worse than I am at the guitar. I took out the songbook for the Beatles album ‘1’ from the library yesterday; perhaps I should commit the entire thing to memory and tour the country as a one man tribute act. One way or another, my trip may take a dramatic turn in the next few weeks. More to come on that soon…

June 20th - Revelation/The 2nd Coming (Home) of Colin

Much like how the blind man develops a compensatory heightened sense of touch; the jobless man loses the ability to silence the particular voice in one’s head that compulsively, impulsively, and pointlessly narrates the minutia of everyday life. I find myself much more in tune with my severely idle brain in the sense that I’m noticing things that would otherwise go unnoticed, conjuring thoughts that ordinarily wouldn’t have neuron real estate in a fully functioning brain. I’m wishing to humour every half-baked idea that pops into my head with a well-intentioned effort but everything ultimately boils down to principle; I’ve spent a lot of money, and while I have much more I am inclined to hold onto as much of it as I can for as long as I can. One week has become two, much like one month became two in Ireland; either history is repeating itself or this is me applying a lesson learned from that experience by being especially cautious. I edge closer and closer to that precarious point where I may be forced to make a bold decision toward some unexpected action because being idle here, in a place with much potential, is exactly what I was doing back home and I came here for a change, or at least some perspective. Yes, that old chestnut, it happened much sooner in Ireland but I’m glad my stubbornness saw me through to the end such that I could properly reflect upon it. I’m referring of course to that light bulb that unexpectedly turns back on, reminding me of squandered potential back home. Kelsey saw it too, she had lots of fun and experienced a whirlwind of emotions to go along with the excitement which allowed her to realize how much we take for granted the little things that go to make home what it is. One of the things that I’m severely lacking over here, but which continues to shape my future is music. My Ipod still only holds a handful of songs and internet is a precious commodity in this country, limiting my downloading ability. I immediately remedied the situation by purchasing that acoustic guitar but I’m continuously left wondering what I can do with any songs I write. The answer took an unexpected form; all those at the hostel I hang out at who I showed my recorded tunes to truly, honestly enjoyed them. One made my day when she remarked that one sounded like ‘’it could’ve been pulled off the charts on iTunes’’. I never really admitted to myself how much fun it had been jamming with Tom, Will and Kayla, and now I realize how much I miss it. In Ireland I had a number of songs and artists that I played repeatedly that I now associate with my times there. For those of you who know my guitar playing style it will come as no surprise that it was there that I came to appreciate Horse Feathers. Their song ‘’Working Poor’’ felt as though it were written for me at the time (except for the ‘’working’’ part). Over here I haven’t had nearly as much choice or chances to find my way through a bunch of songs but I’ve found one and that’s all I need. In the early months of my Europe experience, In spite of all my bad luck, I kept having this dream where I found myself back home and wanting but unable to get back to Ireland to see my trip through to the end. It felt eerily real every time I had it, which was more times than I could count. I had that same dream last night which made me think of my New Zealand song so far, ‘’End Come To Soon’’ by Wild Beasts. I think the title speaks to me now more than anything, with respect not only to New Zealand but even more so with everything back home. I’m hoping that it’s been fate that has kept me from securing one of these long term positions I’ve been so keen to vilify because I think I’ve discovered what I’ve come here to discover which is simply this; New Zealand is an amazing place, but it’s not going anywhere. I love it here, one day down the line I can see myself returning to set up shop for good but I don’t believe that it is here and now. Just as I didn’t want to settle into anything back home I’ve found out that I don’t want to make any decision regarding settling anywhere. I am forever grateful to Kelsey for sharing those six weeks with me because it’s shown me that it’s what I want to do here and now. I miss being out on the open road with only the vaguest sense of direction. It was exhilarating knowing that I had minimal obligations and the ability to change my mind at the last minute, sorry Swampy. It isn’t hard to see that I could easily fit long-term here in Wellington; I don’t need a full year to figure that out. What’s important to me here and now is chasing those feelings of the six week holiday again. It may mean bungee jumping or skydiving again but I’m sure the thrill of discovery is waiting around many corners I’ve yet to turn. Although I have had some awesome jobs in my life, I have paid my dues, as most my age have, in some not-so-awesome ones. If this were the beginning of some long career then I’d expend more energy chasing something bigger and prestigious but I am henceforth gladly resigning myself to anything and everything because I know it will see me back on the road again soon. What this means for everyone else is that yes, you will see me back sooner rather than later, but not before I squeeze every last drop of fun out of this country that I, and my bank account, can handle. This may require me working at Pizza Hut but so be it. Jaclyn, if you are reading this, do you want to go bungee jumping? Mac, if you are reading this, come sooner and let’s go sky diving. Parents, I know you’re reading this, so come whenever and let’s do both (or you could just watch me do them if that suits you better). To everyone else reading this, if you have the time, money and inclination, come here while I still am and let’s go do what this should’ve been in the first place, a holiday, not a new life. See you all when I see you, it will not be soon and the precise details will continue to remain a mystery but prepare thyself nonetheless.

June 15th - Rejection and Rebuttal

As the rejection e-mails threaten to overload my inbox I’m feeling an odd mixture of frustration and relief. You see, in my blind pursuit of employment I’ve applied for some incredibly unappealing prospects; I often consider myself fortunate that the hiring system in place lacks any sort of personal interaction. If I were to actually be granted the opportunity to interview for these positions I feel as though my lack of enthusiasm has potential to become increasingly apparent if their questions are even half as inane as their job descriptions. On the other hand, at least then I’d have the opportunity to gain some self-satisfaction from proving that I am indeed an intelligent, literate individual rather than being judged and sequestered to the rejects based simply on a few sentences of a CV. The other day, shortly after being rejected for a receptionist job at some run of the mill business downtown by a letter pre-written to sound minimally offensive (but failing to do so in its condescension), I was feeling particularly disgruntled. I found another ad from the agency and clicked apply with the full intention of making an online scene before remembering that when your medium is the internet, flat-out trolling is futile at best. I took a deep breath, paused for thought then settled for a legitimate inquiry with a tactically placed missile of sarcasm aimed straight at the dignity and credibility of the temp agency. The pre-requisites they sought for the job in question were the usual balderdash, though one stood out perfectly for my purposes; ‘’a keen eye for detail’’. I seized this phrasing and used it as a weapon to attack the agency. I wrote a cover letter as I would any other job, stating my experience with the slightest hint of embellishment, but this time I followed it up with a concrete example of my skills. I proclaimed that my eye for detail was so keen that I could easily point out all the spelling mistakes and grammatical errors in the advert, of which there were a surprising amount. I felt no qualms about including that I hoped whoever had written the ad would not be the one deciding my fate regarding the position. I had a little spring in my step after that but it was short lived for shortly thereafter I received another of the identical rejection e-mails but this time with an extra note thanking me for rectifying the errors in their ad. In essence I merely allowed them to save face while I still sit here unemployed. As Andy Bernard so eloquently put it, ‘’they may have won the battle, but I will win…the next battle’’. Apart from my woes on the job front continuing I have precious news to relate. My adventure plans are a costly bunch that I am not willing to justify undergoing until I have earned back some of what I’ve already spent. In the meantime I continue to do little things that add up to make Wellington a cool place to be alive. My days consist of watching playoff hockey, eating sushi lunches and writing songs. I try to add spice where I can; I picked up a library card and am studying some guitar theory in between reading some easily digestible fiction. In other words, I’m actively trying to live rather than be a vegetable in this transition period. I’m crossing my fingers and sacrificing animals to the gods in a vain attempt to conjure up some luck in my job hunt. Once it’s sorted out I can once again shock and awe you all with something with a little more substance. Until then, bear with me. Oh, one more thing, about my little joke against the temp agency, I’m fully aware that my grammar probably hasn’t been that of a Harvard professor over the course of these blogs so there’s no need to go over it with a fine tooth comb, I merely saw an opportunity and used it to my advantage, so sue me.

June 11th - The Robotic Uprising of the CBD

Are you passionate about accounts receivable? When you put your head on the pillow do you dream about data entry? Do you love filing things in order? If you answered yes to any of the above questions, you’re an idiot. You’re apparently also a prime candidate for one of the many jobs on offer in the Wellington CBD. Isn’t it a tad overdramatic to throw around words like love and passion as prerequisites for duties at a temping agency? In this city, filled with free thinking, liberal arts aficionados, whose youthful exuberance is a result of menial office work? Maybe I’m wrong, maybe all the cool people I’ve met here at shows or at the pubs have been getting high off life at jobs that involve alphabetizing for eight hours a day. I don’t believe that for a second, instead I believe that the majority of the want ads have been written by Satan himself. Just kidding, though in all seriousness these jobs must truly suck if they have to be advertised so incessantly by these various temp agencies with their similar sounding mono-syllabic names which are always obscure English words presumably meant to sound edgy. I don’t know what’s worse, the soulless robot programmed to write this drivel or me for actually applying for them and pretending like I’m the person who fits their bill. All I know is that I can’t afford, both literally and metaphorically, to have another transition period experience like that of Dublin. With that still fresh in my mind I am applying feverishly for anything and everything just to have some form of income while I search for a job that will live up to my lofty standards (read: Activision). In the meantime I found myself on Friday afternoon without any concrete plans. I texted the few contacts I’d made but they were either broke or searching for flats. I decided not to let that deter me and made the 25 minute downhill stroll into town solo. I’d found this handy online gig listing called Groove Guide which reaffirmed that Wellington, for a city of its size and population, has a disproportionate number of music venues and thus frequent shows and multiple options. In my excitement I forgot to write down the addresses for these places so on my way into town I thought I’d pop by my old hostel to see if I could snag directions. Just as I’d expected, my friend Mikey was on the front porch again, smoking a cigarette and playing his guitar, just as he had been doing each night that I stayed there. Not only did he give me directions but he came to the gig with me and we discovered our mutual respect for many artists and made plans to jam on Sunday. On Saturday afternoon I went down to the Four Kings pub again, grabbed a seat in a recliner and watched the Canucks beat the Bruins on 18 screens (yes, I counted). For whatever reason, everyone who bothered to come and watch the game (mostly kiwis as their accents suggested) was a Canucks fan, which was fine by me. Many even had Canucks jerseys! For a second there I’d thought I’d stepped through a portal into a Vancouver pub until the commercial breaks came and two back to back adverts for rival worm medicines for sheep brought me back to reality. I guess my hard work in trying to make friends has paid off as on Saturday night I had not one, not two, but three official invites to social gatherings of one form or another; one house party, one concert, and one dinner party. Despite having just eaten I settled on the dinner party because I didn’t know the address for the house party and had been to the exact same concert venue the night before. The dinner party was at one of the flats I’d went to on my flat hunt. They had offered me the room but I’d already accepted the place I’m in now. It’s not so bad though, I can have the bigger room and extra privacy here (not to mention some pretty cool flatmates) and I now have some awesome mates just up the street. Continuing my streak of meeting like-minded individuals, these guys have a ‘’flat band’’ in that most of the flatmates play an instrument or sing and have decided to form a group because apparently there is a contest or something that will get you free tickets on the ferry to the South Island. I found this out after hearing Fleet Foxes on the Ipod playing over dinner. One girl mentioned something interesting when she related her story of seeing the new X-men movie as the guy she went with was part of the special effects team at Weta, Peter Jackson’s company that worked on the Lord of the Rings films. I’d forgotten that much of the CGI on these big movies is being done right here in Wellington so it shouldn’t come as a surprise when people get excited in the theatre at random moments, the scene might just be something they worked on! So there you have it, my good luck goes on as I continue to meet intelligent, artsy locals who are as welcoming as they are interesting. Who knows, maybe I’ll regret buying a van because it will mean weekends away from all the excitement right here in the city.