Interview about expat life in New Zealand

April 4, 2012

A while back, ‘Moon Travel Guides’ approached me and asked if they could interview me for the new edition of their book, ‘Living Abroad in New Zealand’.

Well, with a name like ‘Moon Travel Guides,’ how could I say no?

Find out what I like about the rural lifestyle, what I miss, and what special expat tips I have in the interview, which you can read below.

And I swear, I don’t get a commission on new migrants to New Zealand. I just love this place!

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Kowhai the lonely boar

February 11, 2012
Kowhai displaying his tongue

Kowhai displaying his tongue

“Kowhai’s lonely,” I said. “We have to give him back.”

Rick looked horrified. “What?! Get rid of Kowhai? How can you say such a thing?!”

I shrugged. “Well, he doesn’t really belong to us.”

Kowhai had served as Old Lady Lucy’s strapping young boarfriend and companion in the last year of her life. Towards the end he kept guard outside the gate to the hayshed hospital where we cared for her. He lay there in driving rain and scorching sun just to be near her.

After we buried Lucy, I let Kowhai inside the hayshed so he could see she was gone. He wasn’t convinced, and for the next three days he continued lying in his spot at the gate, as if waiting for her return.

It was heartbreaking. Pigs need company, and we had to do something.

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Egg delivery gone wrong

November 14, 2009
Featherston station

Featherston station

I was carrying two dozen farm fresh eggs as I stepped up onto the train at Featherston station.

It’s not what most people carry during their morning commute, but when you live in the country and work in the city as I do, you start doing strange things.

For example, just the other week I took a bell pepper plant (called a ‘capsicum’ here in Kiwiland) to the office. It’s now growing beautifully in a pot next to my desk. Perhaps I’m on a slippery slope. Soon I’ll be taking in live chickens and setting up chicken runs in the meeting rooms.

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Island Martinborough

September 5, 2009

Last week we were on the bus on the way home when Graham, the bus driver, called out to us. “Sign says the bridge is closed. Should we get closer and see?”

Image from freefoto.com

There were seven or eight Martinborough commuters in the back of the bus. (Although I  admit referring to that little beige shuttle van as a ‘bus’ is a bit generous. You may as well refer to our tiny Nissan Pulsar as an off-road utility vehicle.)

Everyone nodded to Graham or called out a hearty “yes,” and we drove on toward the possibly washed out bridge.

Rick, who was sitting next to me, reached over and squeezed my knee.

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Conquering the road that scared me

April 30, 2009

If I was going to live in paradise, I had to be able to drive there.

Rimutaka Hill Road

Rimutaka Hill Road

So it was that on a Saturday afternoon in September of 2006, I sat behind the wheel of our little Nissan Pulsar and drove toward the Rimutaka mountain range. Rick sat in the passenger seat as official navigator and voice of reason.

I’ve already told you how terrible the Rimutaka Hill Road is. Even Kiwis, who seem to downplay everything, admit that the road is less than ideal. Of course the locals will tell you that it’s better than it used to be, back when they were kids.  It must have been a goat track.

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Testing the train to paradise

April 24, 2009

Having established that both Rick and I loved the property, there remained two hurdles to pass before we could really consider moving out to the middle of nowhere. The first was the train commute.

The train at Featherston station

The train at Featherston station - Image from Rimutaka Incline Railway Heritage Trust

We found accommodation in Martinborough mid-week so that we could actually experience the commute to work back in Wellington, just to see how bad it was.

For two nights we stayed in a refurbished old house built in the style Kiwis call a ‘villa’ – which isn’t an Italian mansion with a courtyard but a quaint, wood-clad bungalow dating from the 1920s to the 1950s. It had a gorgeous garden and was adjacent to some vineyards.

Right away we learned that nights in the country are different. They are pitch black and intensely quiet, as though the darkness itself were a physical substance muffling sound, like fog. That first night we slept more soundly than we had in years.

So we were doubly surprised to be woken in the early hours of the morning by a low humming sound.

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First time I saw the trees

April 9, 2009

It was early as Rick and I climbed into the car for a day trip to Martinborough.

Across the harbor lie the Rimutakas.

Across Wellington's harbor lie the Rimutakas.

There were apples in the back seat to snack on later, and we had travel mugs full of hot coffee sitting in the cup holders between us. The morning light was pale blue as we pulled out of our driveway.

We’d been living in Wellington for two years by then. Somewhere along the course of our lives we’d accidentally become itinerant Americans, moving first from the North Side of Chicago together to northern Japan, then down to the bright lights of Tokyo, and most recently all the way to the bottom of the planet to New Zealand. In the two previous years alone, we’d lived in four different spots in Wellington.

Although this was just a day trip, there was something bigger behind our reason for the drive to Martinborough. We were going because Rick had proposed something radical.

He proposed we settle.

That day we were off to look at his Fantastic New Idea. I admit that I was skeptical.

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