I have been back in the states for about two and a half months and, at the risk of being far too punctual, I have decided its time to finish the blog. I would like to say that I have been too busy to write the final post but lets be honest, with the exception of the last three weeks, I haven’t been in school for three months. Better late than never though right? 

I arrived back in Wellington from Beijing with about a week and a half left of my time in New Zealand. Aside from an unscheduled flight to Christchurch due to bad weather, travel went smoothly. It was great to be able to spend my last week in New Zealand saying goodbye and checking the last few things off my NZ bucket list. On a whim at one in the morning, a friend and I bought bus tickets to National city for one final road trip, complete of course, with hostels and hiking. We spent the weekend hiking what is largely described as the “best day trek” in New Zealand, the Tongariro Alpine Crossing. Mt. Tongariro is better known in the states as Mordor, or Orodruin, the volcano from the Lord of the Rings movies. The trek is 20 kilometers in length and is hiked in one direction over the course of an afternoon. This trip marked the first planned backpacking adventure in which the weather did not decided that rain was the best option for hiking. While this messed up a pretty serious streak of bad weather, I decided it was one tradition I was willing to break. The hike was unbelievably gorgeous. We walked through several different terrains throughout the day ranging from phenomenal views of the valley to thermal pools and volcanic craters. We stopped for lunch next to a dark turquoise sulfuric pool and enjoyed lounging in the sun before continuing our walk. Climbing down the side of the mountain/volcano was more like an exercise in stylish falling than anything that resembled walking.  Luckily, I have gained a substantial amount of experience falling during the course of my time in New Zealand and made it safely down. The next fifteen minutes were dedicated to watching others attempt to do the same before continuing on. 

We were picked up at the other end of the track by a bus and taken back to our hostel. A well deserved nap and delicious pasta dinner followed. We treated ourselves to some prepackaged, frozen strawberry tarts only to discover once returning from the store that its was just frozen pastry crust. This proved to be far more devastating than rationally acceptable but we made due and turned the dough into makeshift scones for breakfast the next morning. The drive back home was gorgeous, even after four and a half months of living there, I am still astounded by the beauty of New Zealand. 

My last few days in New Zealand consisted in a final couple of walks in the botanical gardens with friends, picnics on the pier, swimming with friends I am so grateful to have made, and of course, time at the farmers market. On our final night, the girls I went on spring break with and I headed up to the gardens that overlook the city to watch the sun set from the top of Wellington’s trippy tree. We shared our favorite dessert, biscuits and frosting, while laughing hysterically at absolutely nothing. Some things don't change. One would think that this would be the perfect way to say goodbye, however, we had other ideas/aren’t too great with goodbyes. We woke up before the sun to climb mount victoria and watch it rise. Corny as it sounds, it was fun to see the final sunrise and sunset before leaving the country.  To say we saw the sunrise may be a bit of an overstatement though.  The weather, as cooperative as it had been three days prior decided to revert to its old ways, so we climbed to the top in the rain and watched as the black sky turned to grey clouds, complete with typical Wellington hurricane force winds. Walking along the beach on the way back, we spotted a a stingray close to shore. We looked closer an realized they were everywhere, creeping up so close to the beach it appeared they would be stranded in the sand. Confused, we wondered if they maybe sleep near the shore and retreated to deeper waters in the mornings. A couple of women running in wetsuits down the pier answered our questions. Apparently an orca’s favorite food is stingrays (who knew!) and a pod of the whales had just arrived in the bay. We had heard that they occasionally came into Wellington harbor but had yet to see them; a final morning viewing was quite the treat. 

Back at my room, I finished packing and cleaning and checked out of my apartment. A traditional English breakfast cooked by a friend and one last walk to the bus stop concluded my morning. The next 14 hours were a mix of excitement to be heading home and such sadness to be leaving New Zealand and all the friends and memories I had made there.  I flew home with one of my best friends so we were able to delay goodbyes for another half day, but our goodbye to Kaitlin and company at the bus stop had its fair share of tears. Fear not though, the twenty elderly woman on a group field trip to the movie theatre comforted us as they exited the bus. Our flight was uneventful, exactly what you want when flying the length of the Pacific Ocean, and I landed at the Sacramento airport to my very favorite welcoming party.

     The next two months were a whirlwind of hellos and goodbyes. A week in Chico, family time in San Diego, a week or two in Wooster swimming with my team, back to California for Christmas with my family, training trip in Florida and one final (until next year at least) 24 hour bus ride brought me back to Wooster. Having spent a maximum of two weeks in any one place for the last three and a half months has given me a whole new appreciation for the significance of the third week of school. My suitcase is fully unpacked, the only traveling I have planned is a bus trip to swimming conference in two weeks, and I’m not-so-secretly loving being back in classes.  I am so grateful for the adventures I was able to have this last semester, to learn so much about the world and about myself and to spend so much time out of my comfort zone I'm not even certain I have one anymore.  

I cannot wait to see what come next.   

Home! 

With family

Game night

Back with my team 

Totally and completely normal

Love them so much

I think the best way to tell of the craziness that was the last three weeks is to separate events by country. Given that a year ago I had never left North America, this new organizational tactic is not one I can say I had ever dreamed of using before...

New Zealand: 
Mom arrived with all the gleeful anticipation expressed in my second to last post. For those who were wondering, arriving at an airport 45 minutes earlier than the posted arrival time neither causes a plane to land earlier nor speeds up the customs process... I just thought I'd check though, you know, to save you all the trouble and to clear up and lingering questions regarding my ability to influence airline timetables and such. We crammed absolutely everything possible into our few days in Wellington. I dragged my slightly jet lagged and very tolerant mother up to the top of mount victoria for a view of the city, to the Friday night market for a snack and to a delicious Indian food restaurant for dinner, before allowing her to get some well deserved sleep.
     It wouldn't be a true Hughes trip if the adventure included too much sleep though, so we were up with the sun for Saturday morning swim practice the next day. I have not swam with my mom in years and it was fun to introduce her to the group I've been training with these last few months. After practice, we headed back to my flat to change for the morning/afternoon's hike. We planned to hike to the Wellington Wind Turbine and then down to Red Rocks Reserve and along the coast back into town. I've hiked the two locations before but never the stretch in between. A few wrong turns caused the hike to push well past 20km. Regardless, we had beautiful weather and a lot of fun. We had tapas for dinner and met up with a friend for dessert; overall, a successful day!

     Sunday we explored town. The Sunday market, Wellington's famous Te Papa museum, a walk along the harbor, a carmel slice from my favorite cafe, a ride up the Wellington cable cars and tours of the botanical gardens and my university made up the majority of the day. We stopped for Turkish Kebabs for dinner and laughed hysterically at the massive quantity of food provide by the much less entertained (though slightly amused) shop owner. We grabbed some ice cream with my spring break travel buddies and headed back to my flat to pack for Australia and fight round 1with multiple airlines in varying countries (Subsequent rounds and an explanation to follow shortly).

Australia: 
     We arrived in Australia Monday night, tired, hungry and giddy to be there; a combination which causes indecision in the grocery store, inappropriate public giggling, and an extra box of cookies added to the cart at check out. We spent our first full day in Melbourne cramming three days of sight seeing into an afternoon. Cable cars, the Immigration museum, the Old City Gaol, national archives, Greek and Chinese precincts, the train station, and art district were the highlights of the afternoon. In a last second discovery/decision, we found tickets to to King Kong for the evening. The musical is headed to Broadway early next year and features an 18 foot tall Gorilla puppet controlled by five to eight performers. It was incredible! By the end of the play we had become rather fond of the Gorilla. We both felt that the level of emotional attachment we felt towards the animal was made further ridiculous upon remembering it was a giant puppet.

Street Art 

Melbourne! 

National Archives 

     The end to the night consisted in rounds 2 through 4 of battle with airlines. My ticket to China had been cancelled and rescheduled without our knowledge and the new itinerary had me waiting in the Sydney airport on a 26 hour long layover. Our lack of landline or cell phone made fixing this problem quite the adventure; involving three hotels (none of which we were staying at), four attempts at operating a coin hungry pay phone, and a truly saint like couple whom owned a pizza shop across the street who loaned us their personal cell phone for an embarrassingly long period of time. Needless to say, we had pizza for dinner soon after. By four in the morning, my flights were figured out, and by six in the morning we were awake and headed out for out Great Ocean Road and Grampians National Park tour.

Wallaby! 

Emus! 

Kangaroos! 

Parrots! 

More Parrots! 

Koalas! 

The Great Ocean Road is a stretch of highway along the eastern/southern coast of Australia that is known to be one of the most beautiful drives in the world. After coming to the realization that (1) neither mom nor I have any practice driving on the left side of the road, (2) the road is supposed to be one of the windiest in the country, and (3) we wanted to actually see the sights rather than fear for our lives for an entire weekend, we chose to take part in a bus tour. We spent the next three days literally patting ourselves on the back for this wonderful decision. The road truly was beautiful and we loved the group of 15 other people we traveled with. The first day consisted of driving the actual road, stopping every half hour or so to see the sites. We were able to see plenty of wildlife (koalas, wild parrots, wallabies, Emus, Kangaroos, etc) along the side of the road and marveled at landmarks like the 12 apostles and London Bridge. We spent the night at a hostel on the coast and drove to Grampians National Park the next morning. Once there, we went for a hike to one of the Grampians peaks and were treated to a view taken directly from the Lion King's opening scene (think Simba being raised over Rafiki's head on Pride Rock). In the evening we had a bbq with the group and were astounded to discover the 10 or 15 kangaroos just hanging out in the back yard of the hostel. Apparently they're as common as deer or squirrels in the area we were staying and considered pests. Much like the penguins on Stewart Island, I completely fail to see how too many kangaroos could ever be a problem. Our final day consisted of a final hike, a walk around a few waterfalls, a tour of a local winery and the drive back to Melbourne. We finished our time in Melbourne with tours of the National Art Museums, the famous Victoria Market and the final bits of the city we had missed our first day. 

 China:
Mom headed back to the States and I headed to China to visit a friend from Wooster who is currently living in Beijing. I was greeted at the airport with a great big bear hug and the announcement that we would be dog sitting a three week old puppy during my stay. The trip was off to a great start! Because Caroline had work or volunteering most days, she taught me how to use the buses and subways and I was able to explore the city alone through a combination of hilarious hand gestures and pointing, plenty of silent prayers, and a good deal of online research. I made a list and managed to visit at least one site a day; the Hutongs, Summer Palace, Temple of Heaven, 789 Art District, Forbidden City, Tiananmen Square, Great Wall, Ming Tombs, ancient Summer Palace ruins, Olympic Village, BeiHai Park, classes at Caroline's university and a Peking duck dinner). I can honestly say I think I saw the vast majority of the city, both ancient and modern.  It was great to see Caroline and where she lived, the people she has met and the community she as established. I loved exploring the city but I especially loved playing bananagrams late into the night, and learning how to care for an infant puppy with my friend.

BeiHai park

One of the highlights of my trip was hiking along the great wall. It was the tail end of fall and the foliage in the surrounding mountains was spectacular. Unfortunately the pollution was pretty bad that day so it was difficult to see too far; but, with the past four months of rainy winter hiking in New Zealand, I have become accustomed to a lack of views. In order to get to the wall it is well advised you take a cable car to the top. It is a bit over 1,000 stairs from the base of the mountain to the wall and another 800 or so up as you walk along it. On the trip down, I was seated with four other people whom found it absolutely hilarious to discover that they would be sharing a car with me. A round of musical chairs ensued as each of them posed for photos sitting next to me.  This would have seemed strange had I not been riding public transportation for the last week. As an American in China, I quickly learned that it is not an uncommon experience to look up in a subway car to discover I can easily make eye contact with each and every individual crammed shoulder to shoulder around me. Apparently staring is not something to be ashamed of and not once during my time in China was I the person to break eye contact.  Having photos taken of me as I boarded the subway or walked down the street also became commonplace.
     One unexpected addition to my trip was a chance to swim in the 2008 Olympic Natatorium, the Water Cube. The olympic stadiums are not too far from where I was staying in Beijing so armed with a list of what I hoped to be buses that might take me within walking distance and a general idea of where the appropriate bus stop was located, I set out to find the arenas. The picture below provides a good idea of how bad the pollution is on an average day. With so many pollutants in the air, the area around the each structure takes on the color of the illuminated building. It was amazing to be able to swim in such an iconic, record breaking pool (even if it was just the warmup pool) and I was so glad to be able to see the water cube and bird's nest lit up after nightfall.  I have quite a few pictures of myself at the water cube as I unsuspectingly agreed to take someone else's picture and she returned the favor by insisting she document my every second at the arena for me. My ability to communicate at this point went as far as saying "thank you" and reciting my Beijing address so I wandered around having my photo taken next to every full wall advertisement, statue and painting, all the while wondering how to say, "no more, thank you, that's enough". On the bright side, I will never look back on my China experience and think, "if only I had a photo of myself next to the twelve foot tall Air China poster at the Olympic stadium!"

Water Cube with the  Bird's Nest in background 

   

Adorable puppy

Summer Palace grounds 

Temple of Heaven 

Tianamen Square/Forbidden City

     

From China I headed back to New Zealand for a final few adventures and to clean and pack up my flat. More on that will come in the soon to arrive final post. 

 

He is still good

He is still good

            This entry is one the likes of which I hope to never write again. It has very little to do with the last few weeks of my time abroad and is substantially more personal than I am typically comfortable sharing publicly. With that in mind, a post about my adventures will be up soon, just not today. 

           

On saturday afternoon, I received an email from my mother informing me that one of my best friends from high school had been in an accident and had not survived. I am incredibly grateful to several friends who got ahold of my mom, asking her to contact me for fear of my learning of the accident on Facebook. In the last couple of days the site, in reflection of just how dearly Janee was loved, has turned into a place of memorial. Seeing pictures and reading stories, while difficult has helped me to feel a bit more like I am able to grieve with my friends on the other side of the world. The email I received from my mom is unfortunately not the first of its kind I have read in the past few months and grieving away from home and those I love is no longer new territory. While this doesn’t make it any easier, it is at least something I have dealt with to some extent before. I have seriously debated whether to address the accident or not here on my blog. While others have sincerely and beautifully expressed their love and grief online, I have little confidence in speaking to such things as my emotions, and fear making it about me rather than a tribute to one of the most loving individuals I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. However, I have come to the conclusion that it would be wrong to ignore this part of my time abroad and inappropriate to include it alongside tales of my adventures in Australia and China. Additionally, many from home have reached out, asking how I am and offering support. I cannot explain how much this means to me but I have had a hard time putting into words how I am doing and responding to everyone with as much care as I feel I should. The following is my attempt to rectify the above.

           

I met Janee when I began swimming the summer before the start of junior high. As the only girl my age who had not been swimming with the team since toddler years, to say I was intimidated at the thought of breaking into the very close group of girls in my class would be a great understatement. I shouldn’t have worried. Janee immediately welcomed me, making me feel comfortable and at home. She has a way of talking to you like you are the only person that matters, giving you her undivided attention, even if she has just met you.  Moving into junior high, Janee quickly became one of my best friends both in and out of the water. She introduced me to her friend group at school and  we always managed to get into the same lane at practice in the afternoons. I owe many of my friendships today to Janee and the way she generously shared who and what she knew with me. I was an utter failure at diving so one summer day we spent hours in her backyard, using the rocks beside the pool as blocks as she taught me how not to scare mothers everywhere when starting a race. We coached the toddler swim group after school and then giggled together under the lane line covers on the pool deck between practices and she got me through the horrific awkward hilarity that is junior high.  In high school we ended up swimming the same events which was fine by me because it meant we trained together. She became the person who pushed me the most to give my all and be the best I could in the water. I owe who I am as a swimmer to her and her constant encouragement. We’re both plenty competitive and fought for tenths against one another in our races. Whatever animosity there may have been in a race immediately dissipated as soon as we hit the wall. She was always the first to give me a hug after a race; even if she had swam in it herself. When I broke two minutes in the 200 free for the first time, she was in the same heat. At the end of the race, she cheered louder than anyone from her place three lanes over. When I asked her how she had done, she didn’t know, she’d been too excited to check after seeing my time on the board. Janee genuinely cared more about people, any people, than she did about herself. She loved people and she loved God and both were obvious to anyone who knew her. She didn’t walk places. She lived in a way that necessitated skipping. She had a smile that actually lit up rooms. She was fiercely competitive and loved both the sport and her team, be it swimming or basketball or spike ball or bowling. To this day, I don’t know if I’ve ever met someone with so much life. She lived big and she loved big. If you didn’t know Janee, your loss is greater than mine. She’s one of the best friends you can have.         

          

  I’ve been going through old photos, ones posted on facebook by others and the hundreds saved on my computer. She’s in a significant number of them and memories are abundant. We shared birthdays, went to camp and youth group events, passed time at swim meets, jumped endlessly on her trampoline, played intramural basketball, giggled at the back of the room in anatomy, made pancake breakfasts on the school quad, went to senior sunrise and sunset, had countless sleepovers and movie nights and made a mess on more than one occasion of her kitchen. She teased me because I was too tall and I her because she was too short, and we always joked that she was a perfectly huggable size. She was my bus buddy for meets and we spent a majority of high school lunches eating in her father’s classroom or outside under the giant oak tree. She was my go-to-friend. We had the kind of friendship you take for granted in the best way possible: one where you know it will always be, no matter the time that passes. I only wish now that I had known there was a limit on time. 

            To answer the question of how I am, the most honest answer I can give is to say that I am okay. Being away from home and having limited internet access means it is not in my face. Good or bad, I can pretend its not happening. It also means I’m feeling pretty alone in this and I'm having a difficult time accepting it as a reality. I have heard from a lot from friends that they are happy and comforted to know that Janee is at home with the God she so dearly loved. I however, am not at that place yet. While I can whole heartedly say that I believe without a shred of doubt that my friend is dancing in heaven with a joy even greater than the one she spread on earth, I am selfish and would do anything to keep her here longer.  The knowledge that I will see her again brings a certain amount of peace but does little to alleviate this feeling of being punched repeatedly in the stomach. There is a senselessness and suddenness to this death that I am having a hard time accepting. I am someone who wants logic and order and for puzzle pieces to line up exactly right, and this is not that. I am frustrated and confused and approaching angry. Janee wouldn’t have wanted anger at her death. She wouldn’t have wanted us to yell and scream at God and no matter how much that is something I desperately want to do, I am choosing instead what honors her life and  her deep and obvious sense of love. In her death, Janee is teaching me one last lesson about life, and about faith.

A friend of mine shared a paraphrase of Daniel 3:18 and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.

“And if not, He is still good.”

I looked it up and it references the words of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego. Threatened with death for not worshiping the idols of the king, the three proclaimed their faith that God would rescue them. They asserted that even in the case of their demise, they would not denounce their God, they would not worship another. And if not, He is still good. I pray for understanding and sense. I ask for time to reverse and for things to change and for the last few days to restart. I pray for order in the chaos that I cannot even begin to understand. I ask that I not have to say goodbye to my friend. And if not, He is still good. Faith isn’t dependent upon knowing what comes next, it doesn’t rely on my understanding how and why and to what purpose things happen and God’s goodness is not reliant upon these things either. I am still confused. I am still in pain. I am still working through anger. But my God is still good. And I will give praise for that.

If you pray, I ask that you pray for the Chico community. For the Nickersons. For healing and hope and a peace found only in God, for He is still good. 

Life updates

I remember looking at my calendar a month ago and thinking how uneventful these last three weeks were going to be. I was wrong. Between school and volunteering and weekend adventures, it has been a very full few weeks. I'll spare you the boring bits though and stick with the highlights.

Disclaimer: I've "borrowed" several photos from friends. Thanks guys!

World of Wearable Arts: 

A week after arriving in Wellington I received an email from our study abroad coordinator letting us know about a volunteer opportunity for an international arts and fashion show that takes place in Wellington each year. Since arriving in New Zealand, I have learned that the best way to experience an event (and attend for free) is to volunteer at it. So I signed up and then immediately forgot about it for three months. I had absolutely no idea what I had gotten myself into. It is difficult to adequately explain the World of Wearable Arts show (WoW). It is part fashion show, part art exhibit, part circus, part dance and theatre performance. Honestly, you should probably just google it.  Here, I'll even do it for you: http://worldofwearableart.com/about/ 

The show is utterly surreal and words cannot do it justice. It is also incredibly far from my budget so volunteering was definitely the way to go. As a volunteer, I worked at seven shows selling merchandise before and after the performance. It was a big time commitment and happened to fall on the same week that a number of substantial essays were due but it was well worth the experience. Aside from having the privilege of attending the show twice (I could have gone to all seven of them and I still would not have been able to see everything), I am also now able to: dictate from memory the price of about twenty different products, simultaneously explain what each product is and operate a rather finicky cash register, hum (and dance a bit) to the entire soundtrack of the show and laugh at jokes like its the first time I have heard them (no, the wine does not come with the wine sleeve, but I assure you you're the first person to kid about that). We ran out of programs the last night which caused quite the scene and involved sounding remarkably like an automated customer service hotline as I apologized profusely and offered "a refund or a copy of this year's calendar" to several hundred disappointed attendees. Side note: if the phrase "I know this isn't your fault but..." has ever come out of your mouth, do your absolute best to ensure it never does again.   All in all, it was a rather enjoyable experience; I got to meet many interesting people, work with a fun group of volunteers, and benefitted from a free T-shirt, multiple show tickets and was surprised with a copy of the 25th anniversary commemorative book.  All the volunteers also received tickets to the after-party following the final performance. It was a Sunday night and we all had plenty of schoolwork that had been ignored as a consequence of the show but, operating under the assumption that there would be appetizers, we figured it was a good way to avoid cooking dinner. Our shameless plan was to slip in, grab a bite to eat and slip out.

Reality was a bit different. The party was in the show room of a local brewery, had a full buffet complete with dinner, dessert and drinks, a live band and plenty of dancing. We were hilariously out of place, surrounded by professional dancers and models whom, aware that the party was glitter themed, had gone all out on outfits (bordering on costumes). It was one of few times in my life that I have felt painfully short and I was immensely glad that I had decided at the last minute not to wear jeans. We embraced the awkwardness of being merchandise sellers and had a great time. Four hours later, we headed back to our flats to complete our neglected schoolwork.

Mount Hector  

I had a Sunday free between WoW shows and went with a group up to the Tararua mountain range to climb Mount Hector. Technically speaking, I don't think the climb is considered a day-hike but I went with a group that appears determined to create their own definition of the term (I have found my people!), so a day-hike it was.

Mount Hector is the tallest peak in the Tararua range and the sight from the summit is supposed to be spectacular; with views across the Cook Straight to the South Island, a full panorama of Wellington, the valley, and the surrounding mountains. Supposed to would be the operative words in the previous sentence.  As has become a theme of my time here, the weather was a wee bit uncooperative. For those of you who desire to experience a hike similar to my time on Mount Hector but find yourselves in the incorrect country, fear not! You too can experience the joy!  Simply tape a piece of white paper to a baseball cap, jump on a stair climber for a few hours and hire someone to throw handfuls of shaved ice at your face.  This is the most accurate description I can provide of my experience above the treeline.

The amazing view... 

Despite how it sounds, I actually had a great time. Something about knowing you get to go home after the hike as opposed to spending the night in a damp sleeping bag in the woods makes this kind of hiking far more enjoyable. We made it to the hut located about twenty minutes from the summit before determining it to be unsafe to continue, ate some lunch and headed back down.  There was a fun experience where, for an hour and a half of the initial descent, I lost absolutely all feeling in my hands; far past the point of anything I had experienced before. Whatever happens about twelve steps past numb is, that is where my hands were.  The weather cleared slightly on the descent and we were able to see a couple of the ridge lines we had climbed. Even with the distinct knowledge that there will be no view, and that the deafening wind against your desperately inadequate raincoat may create horrific sensory deprivation, there is something to be said for looking at a mountain and climbing it simply because you can. 

Food:

At times- especially days where I have minimal interaction with other humans- it is easy to pretend that I'm back in the States. There are plenty of things similar between New Zealand and home which works to create an environment that is simultaneously disconcerting and comforting. One of the most distinctly different things between home and here however, (aside of course from the accents, metric system, and near death experiences involving left side of the road driving) becomes apparent whenever one walks into a grocery store, coffee shop or restaurant. Differences in food is something I was not really expecting to experience during my time in New Zealand but while much of the food consumed is the same, the names used to describe these foods are often confusing enough to make me think a different language is being spoken. Corgettes are zucchini, capsicum are peppers, a kumara is a sweat potato, pies are almost always savory (and not in the pot-pie way), a "lasagna bite" is eaten with your hands and is somehow deep fried, all candies are called lollies regardless of whether they have a stick to hold on to during consumption, marshmallow candies resembling the old American 'circus peanut' candy are abundant and often covered inexplicably in chocolate, jam is jelly and jello is jam, and, most importantly, cookies are called biscuits...unless they're called cookies. The last one is where the problem lies.  I have been either a part of or witness to an embarrassingly large number of discussions regarding exactly what a biscuit is- sweet cookie or savory scone like bread consumed primarily in the south with gravy. We determined that there is no equivalent to an American biscuit here in New Zealand and learned that for some reason, we all took great offense to having them be brushed off as strange scones. The only solution, it seemed, was to have a biscuits and gravy breakfast. It only occurred to us (me and the four other Americans involved) that not one of us had ever actually made biscuits and gravy, on the day of the meal. All worked out just fine though and it was the perfect excuse not to study on a lazy Saturday. I'm proud to report that nothing was ruined or burned and the greatest catastrophe of the entire event was that I forgot to stock up on milk for tea.  In other exciting food news, I discovered my flat has a waffle maker that produces penguin shaped waffles (penguin waffle nights are now a thing); I forgot about the chicken I was cooking, for three or four hours and learned that, if left long enough, lemon and onions will basically turn into charcoal; and I ate my first ever kindersurprise. The kindersurprise is one of those things you don't know you need until you have had it. Why all chocolate does not come with a toy is now utterly beyond me.   

Rock climbing

On sunday I headed up to Titahi bay with the Tramping club for some rock climbing right on the coast. The extent of my climbing experience is one or two preteen birthday parties, an afternoon last year  with a few friends after class and hours of belaying fifth and sixth graders in high school- all of which took place in a gym, free from wind, dirt and rocks that can slice open your fingers. I have scrambled up my fair share of rocks during hikes in the last few months but none of that involved climbing much higher than ten feet.

To add to my complete lack of experience, I also have a pretty decent fear of heights. The tramping club here is amazing though and got me set up right away. I had an incredible time, the scenery was amazing and it was one of the first truly warm and sunny days in a very long time(fear not, winds boarding on hurricane classification struck the next day). In the evening we set up a campfire and had sausages, grilled bananas stuffed with chocolate and marshmallows, and possibly the greatest grilled cheese ever made by human hands. Other highlights of the day included adopting a dog for the afternoon (he followed us down the cliff to the shore and couldn't get back up without help), watching a gorgeous sunset on the beach, and not falling to my death. My backpack and clothing (and now room) are destined to smell of driftwood campfire for at least another month but it was certainly worth it.

Finals and my mommy and traveling:

That more or less catches us up to today. As of two hours ago, I am officially done with my first semester of junior year! "Finals week" in New Zealand is actually "finals month", stretching from late october to mid November. However, I ended up with a truly amazing schedule that involved taking all final exams this week. While this meant that I suffered through finals week in my own private bubble of stress, it also means I have exactly one month before heading back to the states entirely free of school, work or mandatory swim practices. We have entered the stage of 'study abroad' that really is just 'abroad.' From my two hours worth of experience, I would like to say that I am rather enjoying this turn of events. 

What will I do to celebrate my newfound freedom you ask? 

Answer: Dishes, vacuuming and putting away laundry... because my mom will be here in less than 24 hours!!!!!! You guys, the level of joy I am currently experiencing is pretty ridiculously high.  As amazing as my time here has been, there is also a decent amount of homesick and the prospect of getting a hug from home is almost enough to make me just camp out at the airport over night. She will be here in Wellington until Monday, at which point we will leave together for Australia! I cannot contain the excitement, it is actually a problem.

Now here comes the really crazy bit, and trust me, I'm still not convinced it is actually happening: a very good friend of mine from Wooster had moved to China and invited me to visit. Because the majority of my friends here are in finals, because I don't know if or when again in my life I will have a chance to travel free of most all responsibilities, and because it means I get to spend time with a friend whom I wasn't sure I would see again for a very long time: I will be flying from Australia to Beijing in about two weeks!  In case the last two paragraphs had not clued you in: I. AM. FREAKING. OUT. Long story short: I probably won't have any updates on life for a while but I'm sure I'll have some pictures to share when I get back.