I have to say, I have written a TON this year (even if it’s not quite enough for some of you!) I thought I might actually be able to sit down and breeze through everything in a couple hours, but I only read through as far as leaving Bariloche before I just could not read any more!
But, wow. Those first two months in Argentina. What an unbelievable experience. It was overwhelming and challenging and stimulating and absolutely wonderful. Bjorn and I both have been having an overload of nostalgia for Argentina lately – thinking about it just makes me want to get on a plane and relive the whole thing. It was…everything.
The physical location of Argentina is certainly a huge part of, but it was also such a mentally stimulating time for me. The language, the culture – it was a time of enormous growth. Every day, especially during the seven weeks I was in classes, felt so PRODUCTIVE. I was filling myself up with new things, exhausting my brain, and really, truly accomplishing something.
The NZ trip has felt so completely different from the South America trip, and I think, at least thus far, the difference comes in the lack of challenge. It’s apparent in the blog – I feel like I have nothing to write about because my days here feel so mundane, and I don’t have too many stories that I think you’d all be interested in. It’s all restaurant bitching and gossiping – I feel like even Bjorn and I talk of nothing but the silly restaurant! Go away, restaurant! I didn’t come to NZ to stress about you!
So much of NZ is so familiar. In terms of international travel, it’s probably about as challenging for an American as going to Canada. Not very. Sure, there are little Kiwi peculiarities, and there’s that silly little accent of theirs, but, at the end of the day, it’s Western culture. The challenges – the good stuff – are next to none.
The greatest challenge I am experiencing right now? Motivating myself to get through the next two weeks of work. I somehow feel almost exactly like I did in the weeks before I left New York for Argentina, just without the dread and utter anxiety of getting on that plane.
It seems to me that if I’ve learned anything from this time of working in Akaroa, it’s how completely amazing backpacking around a country is. That freedom of waking up every day, wondering what you’re going to do or where you’ll go next. Not having to live the same day over and over again! That’s what it is! Not having to wake up to that damned alarm and know exactly what’s ahead of you for the next nine hours.
Of course, for me, this repetitiveness is complicated by the fact that I’m waitressing. On my feet all day. Listening to whining tourists make special requests for their dietary needs or those of their 2 year old, or complain about why did THAT table get their food before us when WE were here before them?! There is more to life, people! I want to tell them. You’re wasting your life feeling negative about waiting for your food!
And I? I am wasting mine feeling negative about serving these people.
But seriously, what I have learned from waitressing in Akaroa is that this “simple life” I’ve fantasized so much about doesn’t exist. Or it doesn’t exist the way I thought it might. You can live simply – you can wash your clothes by hand and hang them on the line, you can avoid the racket of the television or the cell phone or the computer, whatever. You can do all that stuff, but you can’t just take any ole job to bring in some money.
At the end of the day, if you don’t have something seriously meaningful to you at the center of your day (and that cannot only be your very meaningful relationship with your special someone) – something PRODUCTIVE and REAL to do with your time – you’re not going to be happy. At least I am not. I cannot function without meaning. I hit such extremely high notes in South America because every day was full – full of novelty and beauty and growth. My blog was interesting then because I was at my best, personally. I was in love with my life.
Sometimes I think perhaps I am asking too much of life for my days to be as full as they were in South America. Am I asking too much? I understand that my life cannot be one big high note – at least not the ins and outs of everyday life – but, neither should it be one big boring foghorn blare. That’s just not going to work for me. I need to be facing challenges, and I need to genuinely care whether I overcome them. Giving me challenges that I don’t care about? Yelling at me because I missed a spot mopping the restaurant floor yesterday morning? Booooring.
And so, I am challenging myself to a little writing. It’s 2009. I have a fresh page! (And I literally have a fresh page because Bjorn got me a beeeautiful new journal for Christmas. He’s so good.)
I’m not sure what the challenge ought to be – that I’ll write SOMETHING every day? Even if it’s one sentence.Yes, I should write something every day. But I cannot be that strict with myself on the blog. I resolve to write in the blog…twice a week. Something every day for myself, and twice a week for the blog. That’s reasonable. New Year’s resolutions are best when small.
Okay, okay, okay! Where has this entry gone! What am I talking about? Reading through the oldest entries just got me very juiced up and thinking all kinds of crazy things!
It’s time to move on! Greener pastures! And so it is. We are taking off in just over two weeks. We have vaguely mapped out our first few stops, but other than that, the trip shall create itself day by day. It will be so refreshing and wonderful, and I simply cannot wait!
But you’ll be hearing from me before then, now that I’ve laid down these writing resolutions. Arrrrgh!
Photos for you! Enjoy! And much, much love to you all.
http://picasaweb.google.com/ellen.bucy
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Bucy Family Fun
This entry is from a few days ago, but due to internet difficulties is only being posted now...and of course, with irritating random symbols. Sorry about that!
******
Where to begin, where to begin.
I致e put myself, yet again, in that irritating situation where I have too much to write about! So I will pull out a few highlights from the past week for you:
The whole Bucy family made it to NZ, without too much difficulty. There was a teeny bit of difficulty, of course. Mom and Dad somehow (and don稚 ask me how) booked themselves on different travel itineraries from Nashville to Christchurch, NZ. Mom was to fly to Denver, then San Francisco; Dad was to fly to Chicago, then San Francisco; and in San Francisco, they were to get onto the same flight to Auckland, and then onto Christchurch.
Well, Dad痴 silly flight from Chicago to SF was delayed by about three hours, so・e missed the flight leaving SF to NZ. They had had a marital pow wow ahead of time ・whether one should go on if another got left behind ・and decided that yes, one should go on. So Mom, arriving with plenty of time to catch the flight to NZ, came ahead, arriving in Christchurch around 8 AM on the Tuesday before Christmas. By some Christmas miracle, father dear made it onto another flight from SF to Sydney to Christchurch, so his arrival came a few hours later, around 3 PM on the same day. His luggage, of course, did not manage to arrive with him, though it was found and delivered to Akaroa by noon the following day. Not too shabby, all things considered!
John came two days earlier, directly from SF, so he had zero problems and spent a couple days in Christchurch, touring around on his own.
Our time in Akaroa was great. Christmas Eve morning was spent, rather untraditionally, swimming with the dolphins in the Akaroa Harbor. Here in our harbor, we have the densest population in the world of a rare species of dolphin called Hector痴 Dolphins. The tourism industry has naturally taken advantage of this fact by taking eager tourists out into the bay on boats, waiting til a pod of dolphins has been spotted, and then throwing the tourists into the water to play with the dolphins.
Mom, John, Bjorn, and I all donned very attractive wetsuits (Dad decided he would just be a spectator), and we were off! We spotted the dolphins very quickly and easily, so the boat parked itself, and one by one, we made our way into the water. Mom stayed in the water for about 30 seconds, before climbing back into the boat, and I can completely sympathize ・the water was FREEZING! And even though they had told us that the water would only feel cold for a few minutes, until our wetsuits had properly warmed us, the water still does take your breath away, and when you can稚 breathe, it痴 hard to rationalize that if you値l just continue to not breathe for a few minutes, it will all be just fine. So Mom and Dad stayed on the boat, which worked out well, because they were able to take millions of pictures of us swimming with the dolphins!
The dolphins wanted to play, and though we were told not to touch them, it was plenty exciting to just watch three of them swimming right towards you, then at the very last minute, separate, and dive under and around you. And, to my surprise, it wasn稚 just like the dolphins came, played for a minute, and then went on their way. They stayed with us for about an hour! It was wild!
Christmas morning, we went to a service at the local Presbyterian Church. Overall, the service was, well, sweet. There were probably 40 people present, we sang a few of the traditional hymns, as well as one Maori one, we listened to Christmas stories, and ate small pieces of a homemade Christmas cake, a favorite tradition of this particular church. I was sort of giggly during the whole service ・the piano player was all over the place, hitting more wrong notes than right ones, and the reading of the main Christmas story was taken from 典he Rhyme Bible・(I will leave that to your imaginations). But, like I said, it was sweet. Far from the pomp of the Westminster Christmas Eve service, but sweet and genuine. And there was a moment at the very end of the service, when the minister stretched his hands out to the tiny congregation and spoke the same words that the ministers at Westminster conclude with, and I just felt my the hairs on my body stand straight up, rippled with goosebumps. It痴 always a jolting sensation to realize how similar things can be when so far away.
The weather was terrible for the rest of the afternoon, which was disappointing to Bjorn and me, as we were eager to show off the beauty of our surrounding bays, but these things are out of our control, I suppose!
I did, interestingly, receive a personal invitation to Steve痴 family痴 Christmas Day barbecue ・extremely decent and kind of him, I thought. So we spent Christmas night with the Bradleys, as well as the other homeless restaurant staff.
The next morning we were off to Queenstown. We made it by 7 PM on Friday night, after a gorgeous ・though slightly long ・drive. Queenstown is quite a bit bigger than Akaroa, but is still pretty small, with a population of about 8500. It sits on the edge of the huge Lake Wakatipu and is supposed to be the Adventure Capital of the World, mostly because the first bungee jump ever was performed there. They do have all kinds of adventurey things to do, though I can稚 say the family Bucy was too eager about those. We stuck to relaxed boat rides, hikes up to stunning views, wandering about the local cemetery, and a little fine dining.
Sunday was to be a big day for us. I had booked us all to go on a 擢ly Cruise Fly・tour of Milford Sound, the number one tourist attraction in New Zealand. We were going to fly into Milford on a small airplane, take a boat cruise on the sound, and then fly back to Queenstown, all in about 4 hours. Well, the weather in Milford is constantly rainy. I think it rains there like 350 days a year or something. So I shouldn稚 have been surprised when, on the morning of our flight, the tour company called to say that they wouldn稚 be flying that day due to weather. Ugh!
But we were up and at 粗m, so we decided to just make the 4.5 hour drive to Milford, take the cruise, and drive ourselves back. I have to say that I am actually really glad that we ended up driving, because the drive was beautiful. At this time of year, lupine, a sort of conical flower, blooms all over the place around NZ. And I mean, ALL OVER THE PLACE! Fields of this one flower stretch for miles and miles down the sides of the highway, and huge patches of it frame the rivers running down the road into Milford. Deep purple, lilac, pink, ivory, and yellow blossoms mix with each other at random, creating this awesome and quite unbelievable burst of color.
And finally arriving into Milford Sound was quite amazing. The scenery changes gradually from farmland to forest to rainforest, and suddenly, you drive out of the rainforest, and find yourself staring out at these huge gray walls of stone that rise up and up and up before disappearing into the low lying clouds. Fat, white streams of water cascade down the face of the mountains, coming from some mysterious place in the clouds, totally invisible to the viewer.
To support the tourist industry (or for some other reason I don稚 know), a tunnel was drilled (drilled!) through some of these mountains, creating a pass into Milford Sound. It would otherwise be rather unreachable. On either side of the tunnel is a traffic signal, which changes every fifteen minutes, telling one direction of traffic that it痴 okay to GO! Not sure I壇 want to go through that tunnel after 6 PM, when they turn the signals off. Yikes.
We boarded a little boat in the rain and took off into the misty sound. After just a few minutes on the boat, the rain stopped, so we were able to go up onto the top of the boat and take it all in. It was really stunning. (And I have photos!) The cruise passed very quickly, though all I did was stand up there drool at the scenery. Rushing waterfalls pouring down lush, green mountains into the steely grey water. The moistness of the air. The fine, white mist spraying from the waterfalls. The full rain clouds hiding the tops of the mountains. It was like nothing I致e seen before.
We made it back to Queenstown that night with little trouble, tired, but energized by the day痴 incredible sights. At least I was ・I should not speak for the family!
And the following morning, I boarded a bus to bring me back to Christchurch. Brother John痴 plane back to SF left later that afternoon. And now Mom and Dad are cruising up the West Coast! I hope they are having a good time! They値l be in Christchurch tomorrow and I値l have three nights to hang out with them before they head back to Tennessee on Monday.
So, so, so. The family adventure in NZ is now (almost) over, another Christmas has passed, it痴 2009. I can稚 even begin with what a year 2008 was. What a year! And though I致e been a bit slacking on the blog lately, I am so glad to have this record of the year. I知 going to have a big sit down with it next week, on the anniversary of my leaving New York, and read it all!
I hope everyone has had a wonderful Christmas. Happy New Year to you all! And much love.
******
Where to begin, where to begin.
I致e put myself, yet again, in that irritating situation where I have too much to write about! So I will pull out a few highlights from the past week for you:
The whole Bucy family made it to NZ, without too much difficulty. There was a teeny bit of difficulty, of course. Mom and Dad somehow (and don稚 ask me how) booked themselves on different travel itineraries from Nashville to Christchurch, NZ. Mom was to fly to Denver, then San Francisco; Dad was to fly to Chicago, then San Francisco; and in San Francisco, they were to get onto the same flight to Auckland, and then onto Christchurch.
Well, Dad痴 silly flight from Chicago to SF was delayed by about three hours, so・e missed the flight leaving SF to NZ. They had had a marital pow wow ahead of time ・whether one should go on if another got left behind ・and decided that yes, one should go on. So Mom, arriving with plenty of time to catch the flight to NZ, came ahead, arriving in Christchurch around 8 AM on the Tuesday before Christmas. By some Christmas miracle, father dear made it onto another flight from SF to Sydney to Christchurch, so his arrival came a few hours later, around 3 PM on the same day. His luggage, of course, did not manage to arrive with him, though it was found and delivered to Akaroa by noon the following day. Not too shabby, all things considered!
John came two days earlier, directly from SF, so he had zero problems and spent a couple days in Christchurch, touring around on his own.
Our time in Akaroa was great. Christmas Eve morning was spent, rather untraditionally, swimming with the dolphins in the Akaroa Harbor. Here in our harbor, we have the densest population in the world of a rare species of dolphin called Hector痴 Dolphins. The tourism industry has naturally taken advantage of this fact by taking eager tourists out into the bay on boats, waiting til a pod of dolphins has been spotted, and then throwing the tourists into the water to play with the dolphins.
Mom, John, Bjorn, and I all donned very attractive wetsuits (Dad decided he would just be a spectator), and we were off! We spotted the dolphins very quickly and easily, so the boat parked itself, and one by one, we made our way into the water. Mom stayed in the water for about 30 seconds, before climbing back into the boat, and I can completely sympathize ・the water was FREEZING! And even though they had told us that the water would only feel cold for a few minutes, until our wetsuits had properly warmed us, the water still does take your breath away, and when you can稚 breathe, it痴 hard to rationalize that if you値l just continue to not breathe for a few minutes, it will all be just fine. So Mom and Dad stayed on the boat, which worked out well, because they were able to take millions of pictures of us swimming with the dolphins!
The dolphins wanted to play, and though we were told not to touch them, it was plenty exciting to just watch three of them swimming right towards you, then at the very last minute, separate, and dive under and around you. And, to my surprise, it wasn稚 just like the dolphins came, played for a minute, and then went on their way. They stayed with us for about an hour! It was wild!
Christmas morning, we went to a service at the local Presbyterian Church. Overall, the service was, well, sweet. There were probably 40 people present, we sang a few of the traditional hymns, as well as one Maori one, we listened to Christmas stories, and ate small pieces of a homemade Christmas cake, a favorite tradition of this particular church. I was sort of giggly during the whole service ・the piano player was all over the place, hitting more wrong notes than right ones, and the reading of the main Christmas story was taken from 典he Rhyme Bible・(I will leave that to your imaginations). But, like I said, it was sweet. Far from the pomp of the Westminster Christmas Eve service, but sweet and genuine. And there was a moment at the very end of the service, when the minister stretched his hands out to the tiny congregation and spoke the same words that the ministers at Westminster conclude with, and I just felt my the hairs on my body stand straight up, rippled with goosebumps. It痴 always a jolting sensation to realize how similar things can be when so far away.
The weather was terrible for the rest of the afternoon, which was disappointing to Bjorn and me, as we were eager to show off the beauty of our surrounding bays, but these things are out of our control, I suppose!
I did, interestingly, receive a personal invitation to Steve痴 family痴 Christmas Day barbecue ・extremely decent and kind of him, I thought. So we spent Christmas night with the Bradleys, as well as the other homeless restaurant staff.
The next morning we were off to Queenstown. We made it by 7 PM on Friday night, after a gorgeous ・though slightly long ・drive. Queenstown is quite a bit bigger than Akaroa, but is still pretty small, with a population of about 8500. It sits on the edge of the huge Lake Wakatipu and is supposed to be the Adventure Capital of the World, mostly because the first bungee jump ever was performed there. They do have all kinds of adventurey things to do, though I can稚 say the family Bucy was too eager about those. We stuck to relaxed boat rides, hikes up to stunning views, wandering about the local cemetery, and a little fine dining.
Sunday was to be a big day for us. I had booked us all to go on a 擢ly Cruise Fly・tour of Milford Sound, the number one tourist attraction in New Zealand. We were going to fly into Milford on a small airplane, take a boat cruise on the sound, and then fly back to Queenstown, all in about 4 hours. Well, the weather in Milford is constantly rainy. I think it rains there like 350 days a year or something. So I shouldn稚 have been surprised when, on the morning of our flight, the tour company called to say that they wouldn稚 be flying that day due to weather. Ugh!
But we were up and at 粗m, so we decided to just make the 4.5 hour drive to Milford, take the cruise, and drive ourselves back. I have to say that I am actually really glad that we ended up driving, because the drive was beautiful. At this time of year, lupine, a sort of conical flower, blooms all over the place around NZ. And I mean, ALL OVER THE PLACE! Fields of this one flower stretch for miles and miles down the sides of the highway, and huge patches of it frame the rivers running down the road into Milford. Deep purple, lilac, pink, ivory, and yellow blossoms mix with each other at random, creating this awesome and quite unbelievable burst of color.
And finally arriving into Milford Sound was quite amazing. The scenery changes gradually from farmland to forest to rainforest, and suddenly, you drive out of the rainforest, and find yourself staring out at these huge gray walls of stone that rise up and up and up before disappearing into the low lying clouds. Fat, white streams of water cascade down the face of the mountains, coming from some mysterious place in the clouds, totally invisible to the viewer.
To support the tourist industry (or for some other reason I don稚 know), a tunnel was drilled (drilled!) through some of these mountains, creating a pass into Milford Sound. It would otherwise be rather unreachable. On either side of the tunnel is a traffic signal, which changes every fifteen minutes, telling one direction of traffic that it痴 okay to GO! Not sure I壇 want to go through that tunnel after 6 PM, when they turn the signals off. Yikes.
We boarded a little boat in the rain and took off into the misty sound. After just a few minutes on the boat, the rain stopped, so we were able to go up onto the top of the boat and take it all in. It was really stunning. (And I have photos!) The cruise passed very quickly, though all I did was stand up there drool at the scenery. Rushing waterfalls pouring down lush, green mountains into the steely grey water. The moistness of the air. The fine, white mist spraying from the waterfalls. The full rain clouds hiding the tops of the mountains. It was like nothing I致e seen before.
We made it back to Queenstown that night with little trouble, tired, but energized by the day痴 incredible sights. At least I was ・I should not speak for the family!
And the following morning, I boarded a bus to bring me back to Christchurch. Brother John痴 plane back to SF left later that afternoon. And now Mom and Dad are cruising up the West Coast! I hope they are having a good time! They値l be in Christchurch tomorrow and I値l have three nights to hang out with them before they head back to Tennessee on Monday.
So, so, so. The family adventure in NZ is now (almost) over, another Christmas has passed, it痴 2009. I can稚 even begin with what a year 2008 was. What a year! And though I致e been a bit slacking on the blog lately, I am so glad to have this record of the year. I知 going to have a big sit down with it next week, on the anniversary of my leaving New York, and read it all!
I hope everyone has had a wonderful Christmas. Happy New Year to you all! And much love.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
The Dilemma (and the Drama)
I’m getting paid $13 NZ per hour to be a waitress at Vangioni’s. I believe the exchange rate for the US dollar is about 0.53 right now, so that makes my hourly rate $6.90 US. I know you’re not supposed to talk about money, but I am trying to set the stage for you. I’m not making any money. People paid me more to care for their children when I was just 14 years old.
NZ restaurants do not operate like US ones, where you pay the staff a crap wage but the customers are, at least, obliged to tip a certain percentage of the bill. No, no. Tips are not expected in this country. It’s something that people will do only if they really feel they’ve had AMAZING service. At Vangioni’s, we keep a tip jar at the bar, and any tips we receive go into that jar, to be split by the whole staff (wait staff, kitchen staff) at the end of the week. This amounts to about $50 per week. In addition, I do get a meal and a drink every shift I work.
My parents taught me to be a responsible employee – don’t take too many days off, arrive early, dress appropriately, etc. – but somewhere along the way, being responsible turned into being pathetic. I have felt lately like I have some kind of chip installed in my brain that makes me a total pushover to my employers. Work comes first! Make the boss happy! Even if he’s not paying you anything!
I felt this way, to some extent, at my old job in New York. I found it impossible to say no to my boss, even if it meant canceling trips home for work. If he said he needed me, I HAD to be there. No questions asked. Of course, that was a different situation than I’m in now. I was getting paid well over a living wage, and had a beautiful office to work in, and a large amount of responsibility to call my own.
When my family (finally) informed me about a month ago that they had bought their plane tickets to NZ for Christmas, I was thrilled. But that little pathetic employee inside me said, I’m going to have to work, so I won’t be able to travel with you all, but I’ll put together a lovely itinerary for you of places to visit.
And so I busied myself for the next couple of weeks with researching and booking. The final plan was this: My family was to arrive in Akaroa, spend three nights here, then go on to Queenstown for three nights. My brother would then leave to go back to the States, and my parents would have a few more days on the road, touring the West coast of the South Island, and then spend their last three nights in Christchurch, where I would come spend a day or two with them.
So…my parents were going to come for TWO weeks, and I was going to get to see them for four days? Hm. Something’s not right here.
The fact that it took me until about two weeks ago to realize that I was about to miss out on a once in a lifetime opportunity (because, really – when will the four of us Bucys be in NZ together again?) is absurd. And all for work! It didn’t even occur to me that I should just ditch the job (not making me any money anyhow) and go spend some QT with them family. That would just be asking too much of my boss, I thought to myself. I actually told myself this! I couldn’t do this to him, I said.
ELLEN! WAKE UP! My friends here started saying to me, as I described my family’s trip to them. If it was me, they said, I would take the whole two weeks, even if my boss fired me for it. There’s just no question about it. Family comes first.
So, I decided, I am going to just tell Steve. Just going to tell him that I at least need six days off – three for the time the family’s in Akaroa, and three for the days in Queenstown while my brother is still around. I at least need that. Well, by the time I’d resolved all of my doubts and found the courage to tell my boss that I would be taking a week starting the 23rd, I overheard my adorable French friends, Franky and Celine, telling Steve that they’re quitting. Their last day will be the 22nd.
ARGH!
So I put off MY conversation another week, mental deliberations starting all over again. How could I do this to Steve? He’s going to be screwed! Christmas week with no staff! Then again, he’s paying me $13. If he really wanted to keep his staff, perhaps he could, you know, give us an incentive to stay? I’m going to feel so sick to spend three days here with my family and then watch them all leave together for Queenstown.
I talked all of this over with Bjorn (who has been very upset with Steve’s employer skills all along), and he encouraged me to do whatever I felt was right. He said he was committed to work at the supply store at least til mid-January, but if the conversation with Steve didn’t go well, and I had to quit, he was totally behind me.
So last Thursday, I went to talk to Steve. I had in my head this whole scenario – how I was going to just lay it all on the line. I must travel with my parents, I’d say. I am taking six days off. I know I’m putting you in a hard spot, but this is just how it has to be.
I was not nearly that blunt about things, of course. So Steve, I said, I’ve been thinking, it’s going to really upset me to not spend more time with my parents while they’re here.
Well, I ought to be able to give you the 23rd and 24th, he said, and we’re closed Christmas Day.
Well, those days are really non-negotiable, I said. But I need a few more days, too. I know you can understand – you’re very close with your family. Wouldn’t you feel miserable if they came half-way across the world to see you, and you didn’t get to see them more than three days?
Sure, he said. I understand. And I wish I could just tell you to take two weeks off, but with Franky and Celine leaving, I have no staff. And I just noticed Jody put a for sale sign on her car – do you know anything about that? (I did know. Jody, one of the chefs, lives in our house, and she’s decided she wants to leave mid-January but has been too scared to tell Steve.)
Um, no, I lied. Didn’t she just buy that car?
Steve was growing more agitated by the minute. My approach in unpleasant situations is to try to just be as honest as possible. To admit wrongs, to explain myself as much as possible, to try to get the person to relate to me. So I said, It’s just hard, Steve. Because none of us have anything tying us to this place. (Which is true, you know. You employ travelers without making them sign a contract or offering them some kind of incentive to stay longer, and…what do you THINK is going to happen? They’re going to up and leave when their eyes are ready for new scenery.)
For whatever reason, that was just the wrong thing to say. Steve shot his eyes over at me, and I could sense a sort of rage building up inside his body.
Yeah, cool, he said. I get it. I’ll see you later. And he just walked out of the restaurant, forcing himself to shut, not slam, the door behind him.
I sat there at the bar of the restaurant, in the silence and dark, looking at the gorgeous day going on out the front windows, and wondering how I’d gotten myself into all of this drama?
Still unsure about what Steve and I had resolved, I left the restaurant and went back home. And I started to think about the situation and the way Steve had behaved (a grown man, my employer, walking out on our conversation!), and this light just flicked on in my head. This is ridiculous. I was going to stay here and work instead of spend time with my family for THIS man. No, thank you.
I waited two days for Steve to say something. Something like, sorry about walking out the other day. I was having a really bad day. If you have to take days off, I guess you will. Say SOMETHING! But he just sort of picked back up as usual, making pleasant conversation.
So I finally just wrote him a note, saying, Just so you have the dates in writing, I’m unavailable to work Dec. 23-29. Thanks.
And that is that, my friends. And I couldn’t be happier about it all!
I hate being involved (or even watching from the outside) these kinds of silly work dramas. And the restaurant has felt like that lately, because the whole staff has sort of collectively realized that they’re ready to move on…at the same time. And that is rough for Steve. But he needs to grow up and stop walking away from conversations. He’s the boss, so he needs to figure out how to make his staff stay if he doesn’t want this to keep happening. That’s his job!
Drama!
Okay. So, Brother John arrives on Sunday. Still not sure what his plan is but am hoping he’ll just pick up the rental car and come straight to Akaroa. Mums and Dads get in on Tuesday morning. We’ll have three days hanging out in Akaroa, and then we are off to Queenstown on Friday! Yipee! I am certain it will be worth any and all of the agony Steve endures next week. (But don’t tell him I said that.)
Day off today! Not sure what will happen, but it’s a rainy day so I imagine it will be a fairly lazy one. Love to you all.
NZ restaurants do not operate like US ones, where you pay the staff a crap wage but the customers are, at least, obliged to tip a certain percentage of the bill. No, no. Tips are not expected in this country. It’s something that people will do only if they really feel they’ve had AMAZING service. At Vangioni’s, we keep a tip jar at the bar, and any tips we receive go into that jar, to be split by the whole staff (wait staff, kitchen staff) at the end of the week. This amounts to about $50 per week. In addition, I do get a meal and a drink every shift I work.
My parents taught me to be a responsible employee – don’t take too many days off, arrive early, dress appropriately, etc. – but somewhere along the way, being responsible turned into being pathetic. I have felt lately like I have some kind of chip installed in my brain that makes me a total pushover to my employers. Work comes first! Make the boss happy! Even if he’s not paying you anything!
I felt this way, to some extent, at my old job in New York. I found it impossible to say no to my boss, even if it meant canceling trips home for work. If he said he needed me, I HAD to be there. No questions asked. Of course, that was a different situation than I’m in now. I was getting paid well over a living wage, and had a beautiful office to work in, and a large amount of responsibility to call my own.
When my family (finally) informed me about a month ago that they had bought their plane tickets to NZ for Christmas, I was thrilled. But that little pathetic employee inside me said, I’m going to have to work, so I won’t be able to travel with you all, but I’ll put together a lovely itinerary for you of places to visit.
And so I busied myself for the next couple of weeks with researching and booking. The final plan was this: My family was to arrive in Akaroa, spend three nights here, then go on to Queenstown for three nights. My brother would then leave to go back to the States, and my parents would have a few more days on the road, touring the West coast of the South Island, and then spend their last three nights in Christchurch, where I would come spend a day or two with them.
So…my parents were going to come for TWO weeks, and I was going to get to see them for four days? Hm. Something’s not right here.
The fact that it took me until about two weeks ago to realize that I was about to miss out on a once in a lifetime opportunity (because, really – when will the four of us Bucys be in NZ together again?) is absurd. And all for work! It didn’t even occur to me that I should just ditch the job (not making me any money anyhow) and go spend some QT with them family. That would just be asking too much of my boss, I thought to myself. I actually told myself this! I couldn’t do this to him, I said.
ELLEN! WAKE UP! My friends here started saying to me, as I described my family’s trip to them. If it was me, they said, I would take the whole two weeks, even if my boss fired me for it. There’s just no question about it. Family comes first.
So, I decided, I am going to just tell Steve. Just going to tell him that I at least need six days off – three for the time the family’s in Akaroa, and three for the days in Queenstown while my brother is still around. I at least need that. Well, by the time I’d resolved all of my doubts and found the courage to tell my boss that I would be taking a week starting the 23rd, I overheard my adorable French friends, Franky and Celine, telling Steve that they’re quitting. Their last day will be the 22nd.
ARGH!
So I put off MY conversation another week, mental deliberations starting all over again. How could I do this to Steve? He’s going to be screwed! Christmas week with no staff! Then again, he’s paying me $13. If he really wanted to keep his staff, perhaps he could, you know, give us an incentive to stay? I’m going to feel so sick to spend three days here with my family and then watch them all leave together for Queenstown.
I talked all of this over with Bjorn (who has been very upset with Steve’s employer skills all along), and he encouraged me to do whatever I felt was right. He said he was committed to work at the supply store at least til mid-January, but if the conversation with Steve didn’t go well, and I had to quit, he was totally behind me.
So last Thursday, I went to talk to Steve. I had in my head this whole scenario – how I was going to just lay it all on the line. I must travel with my parents, I’d say. I am taking six days off. I know I’m putting you in a hard spot, but this is just how it has to be.
I was not nearly that blunt about things, of course. So Steve, I said, I’ve been thinking, it’s going to really upset me to not spend more time with my parents while they’re here.
Well, I ought to be able to give you the 23rd and 24th, he said, and we’re closed Christmas Day.
Well, those days are really non-negotiable, I said. But I need a few more days, too. I know you can understand – you’re very close with your family. Wouldn’t you feel miserable if they came half-way across the world to see you, and you didn’t get to see them more than three days?
Sure, he said. I understand. And I wish I could just tell you to take two weeks off, but with Franky and Celine leaving, I have no staff. And I just noticed Jody put a for sale sign on her car – do you know anything about that? (I did know. Jody, one of the chefs, lives in our house, and she’s decided she wants to leave mid-January but has been too scared to tell Steve.)
Um, no, I lied. Didn’t she just buy that car?
Steve was growing more agitated by the minute. My approach in unpleasant situations is to try to just be as honest as possible. To admit wrongs, to explain myself as much as possible, to try to get the person to relate to me. So I said, It’s just hard, Steve. Because none of us have anything tying us to this place. (Which is true, you know. You employ travelers without making them sign a contract or offering them some kind of incentive to stay longer, and…what do you THINK is going to happen? They’re going to up and leave when their eyes are ready for new scenery.)
For whatever reason, that was just the wrong thing to say. Steve shot his eyes over at me, and I could sense a sort of rage building up inside his body.
Yeah, cool, he said. I get it. I’ll see you later. And he just walked out of the restaurant, forcing himself to shut, not slam, the door behind him.
I sat there at the bar of the restaurant, in the silence and dark, looking at the gorgeous day going on out the front windows, and wondering how I’d gotten myself into all of this drama?
Still unsure about what Steve and I had resolved, I left the restaurant and went back home. And I started to think about the situation and the way Steve had behaved (a grown man, my employer, walking out on our conversation!), and this light just flicked on in my head. This is ridiculous. I was going to stay here and work instead of spend time with my family for THIS man. No, thank you.
I waited two days for Steve to say something. Something like, sorry about walking out the other day. I was having a really bad day. If you have to take days off, I guess you will. Say SOMETHING! But he just sort of picked back up as usual, making pleasant conversation.
So I finally just wrote him a note, saying, Just so you have the dates in writing, I’m unavailable to work Dec. 23-29. Thanks.
And that is that, my friends. And I couldn’t be happier about it all!
I hate being involved (or even watching from the outside) these kinds of silly work dramas. And the restaurant has felt like that lately, because the whole staff has sort of collectively realized that they’re ready to move on…at the same time. And that is rough for Steve. But he needs to grow up and stop walking away from conversations. He’s the boss, so he needs to figure out how to make his staff stay if he doesn’t want this to keep happening. That’s his job!
Drama!
Okay. So, Brother John arrives on Sunday. Still not sure what his plan is but am hoping he’ll just pick up the rental car and come straight to Akaroa. Mums and Dads get in on Tuesday morning. We’ll have three days hanging out in Akaroa, and then we are off to Queenstown on Friday! Yipee! I am certain it will be worth any and all of the agony Steve endures next week. (But don’t tell him I said that.)
Day off today! Not sure what will happen, but it’s a rainy day so I imagine it will be a fairly lazy one. Love to you all.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
The Greatest Day in NZ So Far!
Today may have been the best day in NZ so far. It was a totally unplanned day, but unplanned days often turn out to be the most memorable, don’t they?
We both had the day off today, and usually, we’ve planned in advance (at least loosely) something fun to do for the day. That something often involves leaving Akaroa because, well, it’s a small place. One gets a bit stir crazy and aches for new scenery (which is pitiful when the scenery is as gorgeous as it is). But we had planned nothing other than sleeping in and maybe going for a walk somewhere.
So the best day in NZ so far started with sleeping in. Such a luxury, sleeping in! Just starts the day off right. Then we had a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs and some super (if I do say so myself) chocolate chip banana bread that I made yesterday. We then messed around the house for a while, putting in a bit of laundry, taking the recyclables over to the depot, cleaning up, making phone calls home. Household chores under control, we threw a few munchies into a backpack and hopped into Betty, aiming for a spot of reserve land nearby. (There are little walking tracks all over NZ, so we often drive past little signs indicating trails and make mental notes to go back sometime.)
The whole bay area was covered with low clouds this morning, and as we drove up and out of Akaroa, we gradually found ourselves surrounded by white mist. We could see none of the mountains around us! But the mist made our walking track pleasantly cool and moist – it was like being in the rainforest a bit. We did a short loop around, and then got back into Betty. Well, that was fun. What’s next?
So we drove ourselves over to the other side of the harbor to a little village called Wainui. We drove and drove and looked at the birds and the sheep and the harbor. Such a lovely place we are living right now! We drove past Wainui, and kept going until the road turned to gravel. We had an amazing view of the mouth of the harbor, where it spills into the Pacific Ocean. Living in Akaroa, where you can’t see the mouth of the harbor, it’s easy to feel like you’re in a very cozy, enclosed space, with mountains all around you. But when you finally see the mouth, and see the enormous, endless Pacific beyond, you get a sense of how small you are and of how completely surrounded by WATER you really are!
By the time we were heading away from Wainui, the sky was revealing small bits of blue. Must be breaking up! (I should mention that the weather here is nothing to write home about. I thought I was being so smart heading to NZ for its summertime, but I hardly call this weather summery. It’s completely unpredictable. 80 degrees and sunny for two days, 50 degrees and cloudy for three days, hailing for one day, and then hot and sunny again the next. I had been told before I left that you experience four seasons in a day in NZ, and I filed that away in my “whatever” file, but it’s completely true. And forget the weather forecast. Nobody has a clue what’s going to happen from one hour to the next.)
Anyway, skies were clearing, and it was getting to be lunchtime. Why don’t we stop in Duvauchelle (small town nearby) and grab a sandwich at the store? Someone told me recently that they have great sandwiches. So we stopped, ordered two curried chicken sandwiches and two beers and had a seat on the outdoor patio. We watched the clouds break apart, cars whiz by, geese and black swans bobbing around out on the water. Just generally relaxed and enjoyed ourselves.
Know what we should do after lunch, I said? Let’s go out on the spit!
The spit is the Onawe Spit, a long, narrow piece of land that juts dramatically into the harbor on the northern end. We pass it every time we drive into Christchurch and wonder to each other if it’s possible to walk out there, but until today, we never have just stopped and tried to walk out there. And sure enough, there’s a walking track all the way!
I’ve been trying to figure out how to describe the spit with just my words, and it’s really hard! From the mainland, the track rises sharply up, and then back down again, right into the water. The track continues a few feet later on another patch of land, with a steep climb up some rocks, all the way up to a large grassy area on top. So it’s like two humpbacks jutting up from the water, the first one a bit smaller than the second.
The walking track climbs precariously over the narrow pieces of land. Both sides of the track spill straight down to the coastline, making the track a bit of a balance beam – if you step off of the track, you are going to take a very rocky fall. But once you get onto the second patch of land and climb up a ways, you finish with a nice gradual climb up some grassy fields, and you get an AMAZING view of the harbor. It was so lovely up there – we couldn’t believe we’d been here two months and never done this walk!
On the way back down, we were feeling very hot and sweaty, so we decided we ought to take a little dip in the water. We stripped down to our under-things and started to make our way in. The water was freezing. Ice cold. I had just my feet and ankles in, then Bjorn jumped in all the way. How bad is it? I asked. It’s COLD! He said. But you have to come in! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I screamed, and I jumped for it. When I came up for air, I was gasping. AAAAAA! SOOOO COOOOLD! I CAN’T TOUCH! BJORN, I CAN’T I CAN’T I CAN’T. I thought I was going to get myself under control and it would warm up, but suddenly, I actually couldn’t breathe. I was gasping. We got back over to the shore and everything was completely fine, but yikes! I’ve never actually gotten in water so cold it literally took my breath away.
I put my clothes back on pretty quickly, and it’s a good thing, because probably thirty seconds after I finished dressing, a huge group of school children came bounding over the hill. Ha!
What a day it was! I don’t know if we were both in great moods and anything would’ve been great fun, but it was just such a nice, free, unplanned day. And while many people might find nothing to do in a place like Akaroa, Bjorn and I have been very good at exploring all the nooks and crannies around the bay area.
I like Bjorn because he brings out this part of me that I lost years and years ago. I remember myself as a fearless child, wanting to go out and get dirty, pick up frogs, have mud fights. But I went to college and life became a party, I went to New York and life became trendy, and I lost the part of me that loves to go out exploring and playing and not caring about getting dirty or being seen acting foolish. I love that part of me, and I’m glad to have found it again.
So! Time in Akaroa is running out, believe it or not. In less than two weeks, the family arrives, and by the time they leave on January 5th, we’ll only have three and a half weeks left here. And that’s fine with us, I think. The travel bug is itching both of us pretty badly. We can’t wait to get back out there!
We both had the day off today, and usually, we’ve planned in advance (at least loosely) something fun to do for the day. That something often involves leaving Akaroa because, well, it’s a small place. One gets a bit stir crazy and aches for new scenery (which is pitiful when the scenery is as gorgeous as it is). But we had planned nothing other than sleeping in and maybe going for a walk somewhere.
So the best day in NZ so far started with sleeping in. Such a luxury, sleeping in! Just starts the day off right. Then we had a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs and some super (if I do say so myself) chocolate chip banana bread that I made yesterday. We then messed around the house for a while, putting in a bit of laundry, taking the recyclables over to the depot, cleaning up, making phone calls home. Household chores under control, we threw a few munchies into a backpack and hopped into Betty, aiming for a spot of reserve land nearby. (There are little walking tracks all over NZ, so we often drive past little signs indicating trails and make mental notes to go back sometime.)
The whole bay area was covered with low clouds this morning, and as we drove up and out of Akaroa, we gradually found ourselves surrounded by white mist. We could see none of the mountains around us! But the mist made our walking track pleasantly cool and moist – it was like being in the rainforest a bit. We did a short loop around, and then got back into Betty. Well, that was fun. What’s next?
So we drove ourselves over to the other side of the harbor to a little village called Wainui. We drove and drove and looked at the birds and the sheep and the harbor. Such a lovely place we are living right now! We drove past Wainui, and kept going until the road turned to gravel. We had an amazing view of the mouth of the harbor, where it spills into the Pacific Ocean. Living in Akaroa, where you can’t see the mouth of the harbor, it’s easy to feel like you’re in a very cozy, enclosed space, with mountains all around you. But when you finally see the mouth, and see the enormous, endless Pacific beyond, you get a sense of how small you are and of how completely surrounded by WATER you really are!
By the time we were heading away from Wainui, the sky was revealing small bits of blue. Must be breaking up! (I should mention that the weather here is nothing to write home about. I thought I was being so smart heading to NZ for its summertime, but I hardly call this weather summery. It’s completely unpredictable. 80 degrees and sunny for two days, 50 degrees and cloudy for three days, hailing for one day, and then hot and sunny again the next. I had been told before I left that you experience four seasons in a day in NZ, and I filed that away in my “whatever” file, but it’s completely true. And forget the weather forecast. Nobody has a clue what’s going to happen from one hour to the next.)
Anyway, skies were clearing, and it was getting to be lunchtime. Why don’t we stop in Duvauchelle (small town nearby) and grab a sandwich at the store? Someone told me recently that they have great sandwiches. So we stopped, ordered two curried chicken sandwiches and two beers and had a seat on the outdoor patio. We watched the clouds break apart, cars whiz by, geese and black swans bobbing around out on the water. Just generally relaxed and enjoyed ourselves.
Know what we should do after lunch, I said? Let’s go out on the spit!
The spit is the Onawe Spit, a long, narrow piece of land that juts dramatically into the harbor on the northern end. We pass it every time we drive into Christchurch and wonder to each other if it’s possible to walk out there, but until today, we never have just stopped and tried to walk out there. And sure enough, there’s a walking track all the way!
I’ve been trying to figure out how to describe the spit with just my words, and it’s really hard! From the mainland, the track rises sharply up, and then back down again, right into the water. The track continues a few feet later on another patch of land, with a steep climb up some rocks, all the way up to a large grassy area on top. So it’s like two humpbacks jutting up from the water, the first one a bit smaller than the second.
The walking track climbs precariously over the narrow pieces of land. Both sides of the track spill straight down to the coastline, making the track a bit of a balance beam – if you step off of the track, you are going to take a very rocky fall. But once you get onto the second patch of land and climb up a ways, you finish with a nice gradual climb up some grassy fields, and you get an AMAZING view of the harbor. It was so lovely up there – we couldn’t believe we’d been here two months and never done this walk!
On the way back down, we were feeling very hot and sweaty, so we decided we ought to take a little dip in the water. We stripped down to our under-things and started to make our way in. The water was freezing. Ice cold. I had just my feet and ankles in, then Bjorn jumped in all the way. How bad is it? I asked. It’s COLD! He said. But you have to come in! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I screamed, and I jumped for it. When I came up for air, I was gasping. AAAAAA! SOOOO COOOOLD! I CAN’T TOUCH! BJORN, I CAN’T I CAN’T I CAN’T. I thought I was going to get myself under control and it would warm up, but suddenly, I actually couldn’t breathe. I was gasping. We got back over to the shore and everything was completely fine, but yikes! I’ve never actually gotten in water so cold it literally took my breath away.
I put my clothes back on pretty quickly, and it’s a good thing, because probably thirty seconds after I finished dressing, a huge group of school children came bounding over the hill. Ha!
What a day it was! I don’t know if we were both in great moods and anything would’ve been great fun, but it was just such a nice, free, unplanned day. And while many people might find nothing to do in a place like Akaroa, Bjorn and I have been very good at exploring all the nooks and crannies around the bay area.
I like Bjorn because he brings out this part of me that I lost years and years ago. I remember myself as a fearless child, wanting to go out and get dirty, pick up frogs, have mud fights. But I went to college and life became a party, I went to New York and life became trendy, and I lost the part of me that loves to go out exploring and playing and not caring about getting dirty or being seen acting foolish. I love that part of me, and I’m glad to have found it again.
So! Time in Akaroa is running out, believe it or not. In less than two weeks, the family arrives, and by the time they leave on January 5th, we’ll only have three and a half weeks left here. And that’s fine with us, I think. The travel bug is itching both of us pretty badly. We can’t wait to get back out there!
Monday, December 8, 2008
Photos from Bjorn's Camera
Here are a bunch of photos from Bjorn's camera, taken over the last couple of months. Some I took, some he took.
http://picasaweb.google.com/ellen.bucy
http://picasaweb.google.com/ellen.bucy
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Overdue Photos
http://picasaweb.google.com/ellen.bucy
I've got more where these came from...coming soon.
I've got more where these came from...coming soon.
Cleaning Lady
This entry is about three weeks old, FYI.
****
I’ve recently taken on a new job, my friends. I am now, a couple days a week, cleaning a nearby motel.
WHAT?!
Okay, let’s calm ourselves. I know it’s a bit unbelievable. But it’s true!
Here in Akaroa, one of the easiest ways to pick up a bit of extra cash is through cleaning. There are dozens of motels, hotels, hostels, bed and breakfasts, and serviced apartments, and, well, they all need to be cleaned.
My friend Celine (one of the Frenchies who works at the restaurant) has been cleaning part-time since here arrival in Akaroa two months ago. She has one regular job at a B&B, and then she picks up another few hours here and there at Mark and Wendy’s B&B (that’s Steve’s parents).
If you had asked me before if I would ever (EVER!) clean a motel out of need for money, I am sure I would have told you no. EW! But, Celine made this whole cleaning thing sound a bit nicer. A bit more dignified. The B&B, she said, is always spotless! The guests are so clean already, she said. I barely have to clean at all! Of course, she does clean it all over anyway. Because that’s what cleaning people do!
So. The newest schedule at Vangioni’s was leaving me with about 30 hours of work per week. Not terrible, but…when you are trying to save up money to go traveling in February, 30 hours per week feels pretty darn lazy, especially on those days when you’re off, your boyfriend’s diligently putting in his 40 hours, and you have, well, NOTHING to do.
I considered getting a “real” second job, like at a café or something. But that felt like a bit too much, considering that my hours at the restaurant will probably pick up significantly in December, as the tourist season here gets underway.
So I thought the cleaning thing over. How bad can it be? I thought. Even if it IS really bad, it’s only for a couple hours a day. What is so bad that I can’t do for TWO HOURS?
(Furthermore, as my dad pointed out with a rather mischievous snicker, I might learn some very valuable skills!)
And so, after seeing an ad for a cleaner in the local paper, I marched myself over to the hiring motel and inquired. Ten minutes later, I walked out a cleaning lady. I would return two days later at 10 AM to begin my first cleaning session.
And truthfully, this is not so bad.
I will go ahead and say that being a full-time cleaning lady could potentially be awful. It’s very physically exhausting work, and, depending on who you’re cleaning up after, it could be rather soul crushing work…and it could be gross.
But, La Rive Motel, MY motel, is a very nice establishment. Not SUPER nice, but nice enough. The kind of place I’d probably find myself staying if I were splurging on a motel. There are only ten rooms, and usually, only half of those need cleaning, since people are checking out of the rooms on different days.
I work with Fran, a New Zealander, probably around my age, who, well, to be honest, seems more like the cleaning type. (Don’t hate me for saying that, but…! What am I supposed to say?) She lives at the motel and cleans for them every morning. (probably in exchange for free accommodation, though I’m not sure.) In our “getting to know you” conversation, she asked me if I watched some local soap, to which I responded No, I don’t really watch any TV here. Our TV only picks up one channel, and it’s mostly crap.
You can’t get much TV?! she replied in horror. (REALLY, my friends, she was horrified.) How awful! she said.
So my cleaning partner and I don’t have much to talk about, I guess, since I can’t talk the soaps, and that is really probably the worst part of the job - having to work with someone that you don’t much feel like talking to but working so closely that you feel obligated to TALK about SOMETHING.
We make the beds. Bottom sheet, top sheet, fleece blanket, duvets, pillows. We fold the towels and washcloths into pretty shapes and leave them arranged on the bed with little travel soaps and shampoos. We clean the bathroom, which implies everything you think it does (toilets, showers, sinks). We clean the kitchen, do any dirty dishes guests have left behind, re-stock the coffees and teas. We empty the trash, we mop the floors, we polish the wood furniture.
And we vacuum. And if you don’t know from personal experience, VACUUMING IS THE WORST THING EVER. Please, please, let me do the bathrooms! Just don’t make me vacuum!!
And then we’re done. And we move on to the next room.
It’s mindless, really. And it’s cash in hand. It gives me something to do, makes me feel purposeful. It’s cleaning. Boring, boring cleaning. But, dad may have been right. I am probably learning some very useful skills.
You know, I am all about feminism. I think it’s great stuff. We all should have equal rights and whatnot. But, I have realized that one thing that is getting lost in everyone’s (both men’s and women’s) working so hard away from home is homemaking. At the ole Harpeth Hall, no way in hell were they going to offer us home economics! That’s not what our parents were spending gobs of money for us to grow up to do! The whole point of going to schools like Harpeth Hall is to educate yourself out of the nitty gritty work. But I think I am not alone as a young person when I say, I wish I had JUST SOME homemaking skills.
But still, cleaning is cleaning. Nobody WANTS to do it for themselves. And if I could pay someone else to do my cleaning, I probably would. And yet! There is something nice about cleaning. Working hard and seeing the results of that work.
I have decided that this trip might just be about trying all of these things. Just to be able to say that I have cleaned, I have waitressed. Just to be able to feel CERTAIN when I am moaning about how miserable it is to be sitting at a desk in a lovely-smelling, air-conditioned office, that life isn’t much better on the other side. I just need to figure these things out for myself. That’s just who I am, I guess.
Okay, must run now. All’s well here, otherwise. Bjorn is well, and I am well, and WE are well. Hope you are, too. Much love.
****
I’ve recently taken on a new job, my friends. I am now, a couple days a week, cleaning a nearby motel.
WHAT?!
Okay, let’s calm ourselves. I know it’s a bit unbelievable. But it’s true!
Here in Akaroa, one of the easiest ways to pick up a bit of extra cash is through cleaning. There are dozens of motels, hotels, hostels, bed and breakfasts, and serviced apartments, and, well, they all need to be cleaned.
My friend Celine (one of the Frenchies who works at the restaurant) has been cleaning part-time since here arrival in Akaroa two months ago. She has one regular job at a B&B, and then she picks up another few hours here and there at Mark and Wendy’s B&B (that’s Steve’s parents).
If you had asked me before if I would ever (EVER!) clean a motel out of need for money, I am sure I would have told you no. EW! But, Celine made this whole cleaning thing sound a bit nicer. A bit more dignified. The B&B, she said, is always spotless! The guests are so clean already, she said. I barely have to clean at all! Of course, she does clean it all over anyway. Because that’s what cleaning people do!
So. The newest schedule at Vangioni’s was leaving me with about 30 hours of work per week. Not terrible, but…when you are trying to save up money to go traveling in February, 30 hours per week feels pretty darn lazy, especially on those days when you’re off, your boyfriend’s diligently putting in his 40 hours, and you have, well, NOTHING to do.
I considered getting a “real” second job, like at a café or something. But that felt like a bit too much, considering that my hours at the restaurant will probably pick up significantly in December, as the tourist season here gets underway.
So I thought the cleaning thing over. How bad can it be? I thought. Even if it IS really bad, it’s only for a couple hours a day. What is so bad that I can’t do for TWO HOURS?
(Furthermore, as my dad pointed out with a rather mischievous snicker, I might learn some very valuable skills!)
And so, after seeing an ad for a cleaner in the local paper, I marched myself over to the hiring motel and inquired. Ten minutes later, I walked out a cleaning lady. I would return two days later at 10 AM to begin my first cleaning session.
And truthfully, this is not so bad.
I will go ahead and say that being a full-time cleaning lady could potentially be awful. It’s very physically exhausting work, and, depending on who you’re cleaning up after, it could be rather soul crushing work…and it could be gross.
But, La Rive Motel, MY motel, is a very nice establishment. Not SUPER nice, but nice enough. The kind of place I’d probably find myself staying if I were splurging on a motel. There are only ten rooms, and usually, only half of those need cleaning, since people are checking out of the rooms on different days.
I work with Fran, a New Zealander, probably around my age, who, well, to be honest, seems more like the cleaning type. (Don’t hate me for saying that, but…! What am I supposed to say?) She lives at the motel and cleans for them every morning. (probably in exchange for free accommodation, though I’m not sure.) In our “getting to know you” conversation, she asked me if I watched some local soap, to which I responded No, I don’t really watch any TV here. Our TV only picks up one channel, and it’s mostly crap.
You can’t get much TV?! she replied in horror. (REALLY, my friends, she was horrified.) How awful! she said.
So my cleaning partner and I don’t have much to talk about, I guess, since I can’t talk the soaps, and that is really probably the worst part of the job - having to work with someone that you don’t much feel like talking to but working so closely that you feel obligated to TALK about SOMETHING.
We make the beds. Bottom sheet, top sheet, fleece blanket, duvets, pillows. We fold the towels and washcloths into pretty shapes and leave them arranged on the bed with little travel soaps and shampoos. We clean the bathroom, which implies everything you think it does (toilets, showers, sinks). We clean the kitchen, do any dirty dishes guests have left behind, re-stock the coffees and teas. We empty the trash, we mop the floors, we polish the wood furniture.
And we vacuum. And if you don’t know from personal experience, VACUUMING IS THE WORST THING EVER. Please, please, let me do the bathrooms! Just don’t make me vacuum!!
And then we’re done. And we move on to the next room.
It’s mindless, really. And it’s cash in hand. It gives me something to do, makes me feel purposeful. It’s cleaning. Boring, boring cleaning. But, dad may have been right. I am probably learning some very useful skills.
You know, I am all about feminism. I think it’s great stuff. We all should have equal rights and whatnot. But, I have realized that one thing that is getting lost in everyone’s (both men’s and women’s) working so hard away from home is homemaking. At the ole Harpeth Hall, no way in hell were they going to offer us home economics! That’s not what our parents were spending gobs of money for us to grow up to do! The whole point of going to schools like Harpeth Hall is to educate yourself out of the nitty gritty work. But I think I am not alone as a young person when I say, I wish I had JUST SOME homemaking skills.
But still, cleaning is cleaning. Nobody WANTS to do it for themselves. And if I could pay someone else to do my cleaning, I probably would. And yet! There is something nice about cleaning. Working hard and seeing the results of that work.
I have decided that this trip might just be about trying all of these things. Just to be able to say that I have cleaned, I have waitressed. Just to be able to feel CERTAIN when I am moaning about how miserable it is to be sitting at a desk in a lovely-smelling, air-conditioned office, that life isn’t much better on the other side. I just need to figure these things out for myself. That’s just who I am, I guess.
Okay, must run now. All’s well here, otherwise. Bjorn is well, and I am well, and WE are well. Hope you are, too. Much love.
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