Kia Ora!

Kia Ora! It's a wonderful little phrase. In Maori (pronounced like 'mou' as in mouse and 're' as in rewind) it means "be well/healthy", but it can also mean "hi", "thanks", "goodbye", "nice to see you", or pretty much whatever you want it to mean. So to you all, I say, "Kia Ora!"

I have been in New Zealand for four days now, but the time has flown by so quickly. The flight from Los Angeles to Auckland, New Zealand's most populous city with 1.4 million residents is approximately thirteen hours, one of the longest flights I've ever endured. Normally, I don't find anything remarkable about a plane flight, but crossing the International Date Line is something close to mystical. Bill Bryson, the esteemed travel writer, marvels at the fact that when crossing the International Date Line, he actually doesn't exist for an entire day. I left L.A. at 9:30 on the evening of the 27th and arrived in Auckland around 5:30 on the 29th. And as I sit here in Rotorua (more on where I am currently later) it is July 1st, but back home it is still June 30th. Needless to say, calculating time zone differences is a little tricky.

The city of Auckland itself reminded me a lot of Seattle. They are both rainy and they are both home to a tall, pointy structure. Auckland's pointy structure, the Sky Tower, stands at a whopping 1,076 ft and is the tallest free-standing structure in the Southern Hemisphere. Many of us AustraLearners (the company through which I am participating in study abroad is called AustraLearn, therefore I refer to its participants as AustraLearners) commented that the tower looks like a poorly disguised missile of some sort. We were picked up from the airport by our AustraLearn leaders Gavin and Ella along with our bus driver, the waggish Dusty Scoops (great name, right?). Dusty proceeded to give as a concise tour of Auckland with commentary that I can only describe as off color, but good-natured.

After settling in at the hotel, we attended a brief session that aimed to introduce us to New Zealand's history, its politics, its slang, its customs, and its humor. Once the orientation was complete, we were given free reign to explore the city until dinner. My first order of business was to procure a cell phone. Not too adventurous, I know, but that would be soon to come. The city itself was quite easy to navigate, much to my surprise. Having all the streets labeled in English may have had something to do with it, but I like to think that I have suddenly acquired an uncanny sense of direction. It is widely believed that the kiwis are a friendly people, and the girl at the electronics store from which I purchased my phone was no exception. After being informed that the display model was the only one left of the cheapest phones they had available, I was prepared to walk away dejected. Instead, the cashier gave me a bright smile, and said, "No worries, mate. I'll just put that one in a box for you." The kiwis really are a wonderful people.

Dinner time soon arrived, so the gang assembled in the lobby to trek down to the harbor for a pleasant dinner at the Waterfront Cafe. With our stomachs full and our eyes heavy with jet lag, we just barely managed to make the trek back to our hotel.

After a night of much needed sleep, we AustraLearners woke up bright and early to one of the most English breakfast I've ever had since, well, having breakfast IN England. Mushrooms, baked beans, tomatoes, thick rashers of bacon, and bangers (sausages) lined the tables, and we all dug in like we had not eaten in days. I have not yet tried Marmite, a food spread made from the yeasty by-product of beer brewing, but I am pretty sure that will change soon. We piled into the bus for a three-hour bus ride to Rotorua, a small city in the Bay of Plenty region of New Zealand. The first activity of the day was a session dedicated to explaining the academic system of New Zealand. Among the more notable differences from the American system, the kiwis: graduate from university in three years, professors do not like to be called by their titles and instead prefer that their students refer to them by their first name, and many more. Next up, Haka World.

The bullet point next to Haka World on our itinerary read, "Become a warrior". So wearing my jeans, sneakers, and a button down shirt, I guess I was ready as anyone to be turned into a ferocious killing machine. For those of you who are unfamiliar with what a haka is, a haka is a traditional Maori war dance performed by Maori warriors before battles to challenge and intimidate the opponent. Each tribe and each sub-tribe has a unique haka that they perform. The words and gestures usually tell a story about an event in the tribe's past, and performing a haka with extra ferocity for somebody as a gift is seen as a sign of an enormous amount of respect. The particular haka we learned was the "Kamate" haka. The Kamate is performed by New Zealand's national rugby team, the All Blacks. Before each game, the All Blacks line up in front of their opponents, and perform their haka with a terrifying intensity that sends shivers up the spine. I'll post the link for the YouTube video at the bottom of this post.

We all sat down in chairs to face a whiteboard with Maori words and a short, slightly chubby, middle-aged Maori man with a bulbous nose and a big grin. He greeted us in Maori and showed us the traditional Maori greeting of touching noses twice while exhaling through the nostrils. This is to signify sharing the breath of life, when our breaths intertwine, our spirits and the spirits of all our ancestors meet in greeting. Pretty cool stuff. The man went on to explain the history of the Kamate haka, and revealed that he is a descendant of the great war chief who originally wrote and performed it. After guiding us syllable by syllable through the haka, we were ready to move on to the motions. The chairs were pushed aside and we all lined up in rows facing our instructor at the front. He then demonstrated the haka for us. To say that the man looked bat-shit insane would the understatement of the century. His eyes bulged and his veins popped out as he roared the words at a volume bordering on deafening. With pants freshly shat and my ears ringing, I couldn't wait to give it a go.

I gave it my all on the line, aided by the fact that I had memorized the words back at Rice (who says I don't think ahead?), and picked up the movements quickly. Our instructor divided us into two groups, and picked two leaders a.k.a. chiefs. My intensity was rewarded, and with great honor I accepted the position of war chief. The men then changed into fur loincloths with flax belts and had our faces inked in traditional Maori warpaint. As chief, I had the privilege of wearing a shawl/shirt that reminded me a lot of one of those bamboo curtains that cover doorways. Needless to say, I was thrilled. The girls wore traditional Maori dresses and headbands, and were given smaller warpaint designs on their chins. Did I mention we were filmed?

Our instructor led us to an area of the hotel specifically built for haka performances (I don't think even the Waldorf-Astoria has one of those). My group was up first. As Chief Pale-As-A-Ghost, I was determined to prove my tribe superior. I have to say, my warriors and I made an intimidating bunch. With eyes bulging and tongues out (that one is only for the guys, because of the…um…. phallic nature… of the gesture), we made quite the fearsome sight. I'll see if I can get my hands on a copy of the tape for everyone's viewing pleasure.

Since we were all fired up from doing the haka, we headed out to the rugby pitch for a game of touch rugby. I won’t get into the rules of the game here, but I have to say, I had a hell of a good time. The sport is fast-paced, teamwork heavy, and a lot of fun. My own moment of triumph came when the ball was on the line, one touch to my foot and the play would start. Only a few inches away from scoring a point I knew what I had to do. Quick as a flash, I bent my knees and with ball in hand I sprang into the air. Time slowed down around me, people silently cheered from the sidelines, someone started playing the Chariots of Fire theme, and I may have started sweating Gatorade. I fell to the ground with my arms outstretched and a triumphant grin on my face. Unsurprisingly, the point was no good, just short. My friends assured my after the game, however, that I looked extremely cool doing it, so I’ll chalk that one up in the plus column. I imagine that I missed a lot of the true spirit of the game seeing as how the tackling and gratuitous violence were absent from the whole experience, but I am looking forward to an All Blacks game now more than ever.

I’ll try and keep these posts to a manageable length, so I’ll sum up this one with my new favorite New Zealand phrase. Many kiwis use the word “as” in conjunction with an adjective at the end of a sentence to express a given feeling. For example, “I’m tired as.” Nothing is required beyond the as (the “as” is pronounced like the –as- in Tasmania). And out of all of the all the possible adjectives that could be used, the most common one is “sweet”. So “sweet as” means that everything is fine, everything is cool, things couldn’t be better.

Example: My New Zealand trip so far? Sweet as.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tdMCAV6Yd0Y