T-ow-rahn-ga

I know those of you outside journalism may not see the importance of being able to properly pronounce the names of places you have no intention of ever visiting, but I do this for your own good. Because if along this crazy journey we call life you ever do wind up in this charming New Zealand town, and you happen to mispronounce its name, you will be most likely be eaten alive and have your remnants spit out into the Pacific Ocean for the tuna and orange roughy to munch on.

I'm just sayin'.

So I'm in Tauranga, and have been here for just over a week. It's been fantastic. It feels great to be settled somewhere, to have people recognise you when you walk through the door of your hostel and greet you by name. It's also nice to know where things are, so that if you happen to need a new bar of soap, or want to pick up some chicken for dinner, it doesn't turn into to a three hour wild goose chase.

When I arrived last Saturday it was a beautiful day. I took the city bus into Auckland from the airport motel, and booked myself on the next InterCity bus to Tauranga. It was a five hour ride and sunshine all the way. I was surrounded by Canadians on every side; three guys from Toronto, heading to the Bay of Plenty to visit friends for a week. I could tell the three of them were long-time friends who had been on the road together for a while, because their chiding and banter was hilarious, and kept me quite entertained the whole way there.

I was able to find my hostel easily enough from the bus station. As I've learned, it's quite useless to ask any of the locals how long it will take to walk from one place to another. Every time the answer is the same: "Ummm, about ten minutes."

This is because nothing in Tauranga is more than ten minutes away from anything else. It's quite handy :).

I checked into the YHA and got all the payment stuff sorted out. I wasn't sure if the internship was going to be two or three weeks, and I had hoped to just be able to put a deposit down for the third week so as not to have to go through the whole ordeal of a refund. No dice. No payment, no room. Fair enough.

I chatted with the front desk attendant for a bit, asking her what the town was like, and on average, how was the weather. Her answer didn't surprise me:

"Oh, we've just come off three days of sunshine. 'Spose to rain tomorrow though."

I don't even know why I bothered. I wasn't too broken up over it this time, though. I'd be there for at least two weeks. The sun couldn't hide for that long.

Another perk of being a long-term guest at the YHA Tauranga was that you don't have to sleep in a dorm. They have a few double-share rooms (two single beds. No more bunks!!) that they give to those who are working in the city, both for your own comfort, and so that you're not waking up other holidaying guests in the early morning.

I was told my current roommate was only going to be there for the next few days, as he'd found long-term employment and had recently rented an apartment. They were hoping to find a girl to take his place, but made no promises. I didn't care either way, the room is really just a place to sleep.

Bryce was an... interesting roommate. A Kiwi, originally from Wellington, and was just staying at the hostel until he got himself settled in his new place. He's also a flamboyantly gay construction worker. When he told me this I burst out laughing and asked him if he knew any of the other Village People. I'm not quite sure if he got it...

Bryce's only annoying factor was that his shifts often started very early... like, when most people go to sleep. He'd be up at 1:00 a.m., and though I did appreciate his efforts to be quiet, there wasn't once that I didn't wake up after he'd dropped his cell phone, or stubbed his toe on the leg of the bed on his way out. Poor guy, at least he tried.

Bryce left about four nights later, and I got the room to myself for two whole days. It was fabulous. My new roommate arrived two nights ago (Sunday), Joseph from Hungary. He's been in New Zealand for two years, and will also only be living in the hostel until he finds his own place. I like him. He nice, clean, quiet, and doesn't snore.

The YHA Tauranga is definitely different from any other hostel I've stayed in so far. First of all, the mean age of its guests is about 45 years. There are more than a handful of 50+ tenants, and though there is the odd person my age hanging around, they're usually just passing through for a night or two. When I first realised this I thought about looking into getting a room at one of three hostels on The Strand, the area's local party scene, instead, but then realised that because I was working, a quieter atmosphere was probably better. Besides, The Strand is only about umm... ten minutes away ;).

Well, true to form, it did rain on Sunday. I got out to do some grocery shopping in the morning, but spent the afternoon with a few other hostelers who had decided that because of the bad weather, a movie-marathon was in order. Jurassic Park III (terrible), A.I. (even worse), Blow (really good. I heart Johnny Depp), and Finding Nemo (always a classic).


The Internship

Monday morning finally came, and along with it the inevitable first-day jitters. I would be starting my internship at the Bay of Plenty Times at 10:15 a.m., and was up and showered by 9:30. I had passed by the paper on the way to the YHA on Saturday, so I was pretty sure I knew where I was going. I grabbed a map at the front desk on my way out anyway, and hit the pavement by 10:00.

Guess how long it took me to get there?? Heh, I love this place. :D

So far, the internship has been amazing. I was greeted on my first day by Jo-Marie, head reporter, and given a basic tour of the newsroom followed by brief introductions to some of the staff. Craig, the editor and person I had first contacted about the internship, was away until Wednesday, so that would have to wait.

Looking back on the beginning of last week, I have to giggle a little. Jo asked me about the "journalism course" I'd taken, what my experience was, and how long I would be with them for. I told her Craig had offered me "two to three weeks," and for the rest of the day, the emphasis was on two weeks. As usual, in this business you have to prove yourself.

My first assignment was, by all accounts, a joke, but is a tedious chore shared amongst all the reporters on-staff. I look at it as kind of an initiation, and if I had been Jo, I would have given me exactly the same thing.

The assignment was what they call the daily "Street Talk." Pick a street, find a relevant, news worthy question, and ask it to five people of varying creeds and age groups. Yee-freakin-haw.

My question for the day referred to Waitangi Day, New Zealand's national holiday, which would take place the next day. The holiday is named after the Treaty of Waitangi, an agreement signed in 1840 by the Maori and the British to make New Zealand part of the British Empire, and guarantee the native Maori all the same rights as British citizens.

As usual, what the Empire promised and what the Maori got are two very different things ("Oh, did you want that land? Sorry, you already gave it to us after we talked you into signing that treaty in a language you didn't understand..." sort of thing). In recent times, Waitangi has been a day of protest as much as it has been celebrated, with many Maori people still reeling over the injustice of celebrating the day they basically got screwed out of their land.

I can kind of see their point.

Over the last few years there has been talk of changing the name of Waitangi to simply "New Zealand Day" in hopes of taking out some of the political stickiness. It doesn't really solve the problem if you ask me, but hey, if a Band-Aid solution works, more power to you.

So this was my question to the folks on the street: Do you think Waitagni Day should be changed to New Zealand Day?

I came back twenty minutes later with three yes's and two no's, three females and two males, all different ages. I was even brave enough to ask a Maori woman. To my surprise, she said no. I guess she felt it was better to celebrate the day your people got screwed than to not celebrate them at all... ?

Anyway, typing that up and checking everyone's names, ages and locations was basically the gist of my responsibilities that day. I didn't complain, I had free Internet at my disposal, and Jo promised more action on Wednesday.

Tuesday being a national holiday, I was off the hook for work. Some of the bigger stores were open, and I decided to do some shopping for work clothes. I wasn't going to go too crazy. I didn't have the room, and I figured I could get away with a certain amount of unprofessionalism. After-all, they knew I was a backpacker, and I'd only be there for two weeks. Half the place walked around in jeans and Ts anyway. But I still figured I'd get some basics: black pants, and maybe a nice top or two. Decent shoes might also be a good idea.

I came back with a fairly good haul: black pants, a cute white top with a little bow on it, a nice pair of shorts for warmer days, and two pairs of sandals, one black one brown, all for under $100. Bargain-shopper extraordinaire ;). I also bought a digital recorder for interviews. My mini-cassette one didn't quite make it to Hong Kong in one piece (I didn't put it in my carry-on, and found it in about 3 pieces in the pouch where I shoved my sleeping bag).

For some reason, the electronics store sold mini-cassette recorders for the same price as the digital ones, and they had a 64MB digital one on sale for about $90. Time to upgrade! Having used it for a week, I now consider it my fifth limb...

The afternoon was spent walking around Mt. Maunganui with a Kiwi family I had met at the hostel. At first I had just met Jenny, second of the three kids, and assumed she was about 18, fresh out of high school and exploring the country with a few friends. Then she introduced me to her "older brother Scott" who was about to turn 16. He on the other hand, looked about 12. Introductions inevitably followed to her younger sister Lisa, and father Steve.

Steve was creepy. He had "newly divorced" written all over him, and was one of those people who has no respect for personal boundaries (he constantly invaded people's bubbles. It was really annoying).

Anyway, Jenny and her siblings live not far from Tauranga, and know the area well. When I found her reading in the common room that afternoon, I asked her if she knew a good hike, and she recommended 'The Mount,' as it's known to the locals. Word spread that that's where I was heading, and before I knew it I had an extra four in my company.

The walk was not bad. My intention had been to walk to The Mount (it's about an hour's walk to get there), climb it up and down, and then walk back. With a full load, however, Steve insisted on taking the car. Bah, fine. Then, when we got there, Lisa didn't feel like doing the climb, so we did the track around the base instead. I still had fun, but travelling on my own I wasn't used to having to compromise over what I wanted to do and how I wanted to do it. Still, it was nice to have some company.

Steve dropped me off at the hostel, but they didn't stick around. A new school year was starting the next day (Waitangi Day is the New Zealand equivalent of Labour Day), and he needed to get the kids back to their mother. I gotta tell ya, I was a little relieved.

I spent the evening in the hostel, watching coverage of the Waitangi Day festivities in some of the bigger New Zealand centres, and preparing myself to head back to the paper the next day.

The rest of the week was basically a blur of interviews and stories. By the end of the week I had three stories done, two published, and two in the hopper. They ranged from the very interesting to the very mundane, but by Friday I was sure I had proven myself as someone worthy of newsprint at the Bay of Plenty Times. Craig called me into his office just before 4:00 on Friday and asked me to stay an extra week. I was thrilled.

Of the two stories I had published, one was a profile, and one was to promote things going on in the community, which is a large part of the paper's mandate.

The profile was on a man named Alan Hunt who has worked at the Tauranga Harbour's slipway for the past 20 years (a slipway is this giant dome-like structure that you put large boats in to do maintenance and repairs). The city council has decided to close the slipway to make room for a new bridge connecting Tauranga to Mt. Maunganui, and come the end of the month, Mr. Hunt is out of a job. We caught the story on the day the last boat was going into the slipway, coincidentally one of the first boats Hunt had put in there almost 20 years ago. It wound up being a great story with lots of cool photos.

Story #2 was on the local theatre, which was starting a fundraising venture in hopes of adding a Steinway Concert D Grand Piano to their repertoire. The story was pretty standard: we're poor, this will help the community, nobody supports the arts anymore so give us money. Whatever, I do what I'm told.

The one that hasn't yet been published was actually the one I enjoyed writing most. It's about a local real estate agent whose goal it is to run a marathon on each of the world's seven continents. He's done many in Australia and New Zealand, as well as in New York, London, and along the Great Wall of China. Over the next six weeks he plans to get two more out of the way by first travelling to Antarctica for their annual "The Last Run" Marathon (started specifically for those who want to become part of the 'Seven Continents Club'), and then to Chile. He plans to hit Africa next year to round up the last one.

The thing I thought was the 'coolest' (pun intended) about his story was that he has rented out space in the local fish-factory's giant cold stores to train for the Antarctic run! A little 4X19 metre block where he can just run around in circles in - 25 degrees. Nutbar.

Anyway, the run isn't until the end of the month, so I think they're holding the story until then. I got extra kudos from Jo on that one though. I told her my favourite types of stories were the ones about the sort of off-beat characters, and I think that one proved what I could do with them. By Friday I had two more features to do for the following week: one on this guy who is into Medieval re-creation and has plans to start a swordsman's club in the city. He's actually certified to train people how to fight with swords, axes, daggers and bows and arrows. His wife is also into it, and takes care of the sewing, dancing, feasting aspects of the re-creation. They have two boys who are also heavily interested... it's quite a family.

The second is a general feature on the newest trends in tattoos. It seems there's been a big surge in all types of people getting the Maori symbols slapped all over them instead of just the natives. I thought this might be a culturally sticky issue, but apparently the Maori are taking it as a huge compliment, and encouraging the behaviour whenever possible. Also really interesting.

Those two were left for Monday, and I got the weekend off to enjoy the city. Again, I headed to the Mount. I had met a German guy in the hostel who was also working in the city, unloading fish off the boats in the harbour. He'd had a long week and wanted to head to the beach for a bit of a rest and a sun-soak. I was very much game. Our plan had also been to tackle The Mount, but after a few rounds of "Do you wanna get up yet?" Nope, you? "Nope" we sort of called it off. Another lazy evening at the hostel, and then bed.

Sunday I made up for it, as it was forecast to be a gorgeous, hot, sunny day which guaranteed beautiful views form the top of the Mount. I threw a bottle of water, a packed lunch, a book, some sunscreen and my camera into a pack at set off for Maunganui.

Then I walked for four and a half hours. YEA. An hour and a quarter to get to the village, 45 minutes up the Mount, 30 minutes down, 45 minutes exploring the village and then another hour an a quarter back to Tauranga. I stopped twice. Once briefly to get an ice cream before setting off to explore the village, and once for a well-earned pint at a pub on the way back to the city. It was a full day and when I got back I felt I had earned my dinner. I met Joseph on the way to bed and fell into a deep satisfying sleep.

So I guess that's pretty much it. Back to work on tattoos and Medieval times on Monday, and a story on local tourism today.

Holy crap. I'm caught up. YES!! I'm actually talking about stuff I'm doing TODAY, and not two weeks ago!! AWESOME. Whew, definitely a relief. Posts will surely be shorter from now-on... well, at least as long as I have Internet.

See you tomorrow (And I actually MEAN it!!)!