20 Weeks in Pictures (Weeks 11-20)

CHRISTMAS UPDATE PART 2: 

Week 11: Getting shaved by a crazy Bulgarian.  A group of students were shaving their heads to raise money for breast cancer awareness and a friend offered to find me $50 to donate if I did it.  She found the money and the skin on my head saw the sun for the first time. 

Week 12: Tybee Beach in Savannah.  Tybee is known for two things- a pier and a swarm of jellyfish that attack during summer.  Luckily when some of the GRSPs decided to come and visit us they were nowhere to be found and we spent a relaxing day on the beach.

Week 13: The Armstrong Atlantic Rugby Team (I’m front row, second from right).  This is before our big grudge match game against the Savannah Shamrocks- the local men’s team- also my first ever game.  We started well with a couple of quick tries but then the Shamrocks brought on their impact subs: Hawaiians with arms wider than my head!  Luckily we were able to hold on for the win.   

Week 14: A whale shark cruises the Georgia Aquarium in Atlanta.  This is the largest aquarium in the world, with over 8 million gallons of water and 60 exhibits.  We visited it as part of a GRSP trip to Atlanta.  Our other stops included the ‘World of Coke’ factory (A word of warning: trying to drink samples of all 60 Coke products without stopping is NOT as much fun as it sounds...) 

Week 15: Some of the GRSP’s during our weekend in Elijay, North Georgia.  We rented a cabin in the mountains above a stunning lake.  As you can see the ‘Fall colors’ in the trees really started to come out and I went a bit tree crazy- this is one of the few photos in my camera with people in it!

Week 16: With some of my favourite United Statiens: Megan, Tershal and Robert.  Robert was at first convinced that New Zealand sat somewhere above Sweden, but we have moved past that and become good friends.  All three are great fun to be around and helped me celebrate my 22^nd Birthday in Savannah.

Week 17: The unfortunate Thanksgiving turkey, which is about to be carved by my host parents.   Thanksgiving is a big deal here in the USA; a good excuse to catch up with family, to relax and to stuff yourself full of delicious food.  I had Thanksgiving dinners back to back- by the time I was finished eating you could nearly roll me down the road...

Week 18: Tinkerbell and Lawrence of Arabia.  Mia (from Denmark) and I agreed to help out in this Rotary charity auction which raised funds for the local library.  As literary characters we would move around the crowd and charm/demand/plead higher bids from the Rotarians.  Good fun. 

Week 19: Festive Swedes!  As soon as my classes finished in Savannah I joined a car going south to Miami and the Bahamas.  The girls are wearing our road trip essentials- Santa hats and novelty sunglasses.  On the way down to Miami we explored the historic cigar town of Ybor and had dinner with Jimmy Wales, founder of Wikipedia!

Week 20: Our cruise ship ‘The Norwegian Sky’ (the fancy one in the back).  It was my first ever cruise and it lived up to all expectations.  There was unlimited food (a good start), the chance to explore Nassau and the Bahamas, and even a private island so we could sun ourselves in the middle of winter! Oh and did I mention the unlimited food...

Hope y'all had a great Christmas- wishing you the very best for New Years

Craig 

20 Weeks in Pictures (Weeks 1-10)

MERRY

CHRISTMAS!!!

Has it really been 5 months already?  It’s strange thinking about the passing of time over here.  The more I think about it, the faster it seems to slip through my fingers.  The way I see it, it’s better just to relax and enjoy the ride.  And what a crazy ride it is: these last 10 weeks have seen me travelling from the northern mountains and lakes of Georgia to the islands of the Bahamas.  It really is the adventure of a lifetime.

The people of Georgia continue to amaze me with their hospitality.  Sure the Rotarians have pledged to be friendly, honest people, but they have really opened up their doors and lives to us over here in a way that is overwhelming at times.  There is also a culture in the south that is similar to small town New Zealand.  As you walk or bike Savannah’s streets people go out of their way to say hi to you, as if they know you.  Also unlike Wellington and Whakatane, conversations in elevators are very common (Wellington is more formal and Whakatane doesn’t have elevators...). 

That’s not to say that Savannah is perfect.  My university of Armstrong Atlantic is in the south of the city, which is an urban sprawl of strip-malls and residential houses.  For a student without a car, trying to get anywhere is difficult, and to get downtown by bus is over an hour.  On weekends the Armstrong ‘Pirates’ find themselves stranded on the (dry) deserted campus of AASU (see what I did there!).   Luckily for us, the campus caters to our needs pretty well, with a good dining service, full gym and plenty of sports teams on campus. 

I’ve found myself playing a lot more sport since I arrived here.  As a Kiwi I got talked into joining the University rugby team, which has been a great experience.  There is a lot of pride in the Armstrong jersey and we’re a good group of mates off the field as well- catching up for parties and weekend retreats.  Tennis is also a popular sport at Armstrong (we have the champion US women’s team) and I’ve had a lot of fun challenging friends to games after classes finish in the evening.  I have also just finished a golf class through the university (yes, we get academic credit for golf!), in which we spent 3 hours on a Monday playing the local course- not a bad way to spend an afternoon!

Anyway enough of the boring text, I’ll let the pictures tell the story!

Happy Holidays!

Craig 

Week 1: In front of the famous Chinese Theatre in Downtown Hollywood.  Jonathan (the other NZ student) and I stopped in Los Angeles for a few days on the way to Georgia and I jumped at the chance to see Sylvester Stallone and Bruce Willis at the premiere of the movie “The Expendables”

Week 2: This is the summer sun setting outside my host mother, Judy’s home.  Judy welcomed me into her household and made sure I was set up for University.  Her house sits on the Isle of Hope, a friendly community that’s surrounded by marshland.  

Week 3: Lightning strikes near our university campus.  I was at the beach an hour before I took this picture and saw how quickly the weather can change from a cloudless day to a lightning storm.  Warning sirens were going off telling residents to stay inside their homes.

Week 4:  Leading a haka at the Savannah Conclave.  The conclave was the first time we met the other GRSP students and it was a great weekend.  On Saturday night we had to perform a cultural item and I spent the day teaching three Welshmen, two Hungarians, two Australians, an Italian and a Kenyan the Maori Haka.

Week 5: My official presentation to the Savannah West Rotary Club.  I put together a short film and PowerPoint presentation about New Zealand and presented it to Rotarians.  They seemed to like it- especially my Australia jokes...

Week 6: We had another Rotary gathering this weekend, which included fun at an artificial lake created for the Atlanta Olympics.  We participated in challenges such as sand sculptures and sailing boats made from cardboard and masking tape. 

 Week 7: Treasure Savannah Day.  I helped volunteer for the school in helping to pick up litter around the central city.  This was a bit of a forced publicity shot (I was the only guy there) and I wasn’t really sure whether or not to smile for the camera while picking up trash rubbish. 

Week 8: This week I went to my first American football game: Georgia Southern vs. Elon State.  It was an unforgettable experience.  The guy standing up at the right of picture would do a chant and victory dance every time GSU would move downfield. 

 Week 9: This is the group from our trip to Helen, a replica Bavarian town in the middle of Georgia.  We camped out in tents and had a great time exploring the town.  By lucky coincidence there was also an Octoberfest beer festival on at the time we were there...

Week 10: This is Imogen (from Scotland) and I relaxing on a yachting trip around Savannah’s marshy islands.  These islands were used by pirates such as Blackbeard to hide from the British navy and we nearly found ourselves marooned on one of them when our dingy ran out of gas!

Weeks 11-20 Coming soon...

Culture? What Culture?

Last month my promising rap career burst into flames- roughly 15 seconds after it began.  Until that point my night at the ‘GRSP Idol’ karaoke night had been pleasant enough.  I had watched some truly talented performers like Mathilde from Sweden and Gudbjork from Iceland, as well as some fun sing-along groups.  Then a dangerous thought hit me: wouldn’t it be great to represent New Zealand culture on a global stage, by performing the Flight of the Conchords classic Hiphopopotamus vs the Rhymenoceros.  It was about the point that I tried to slide across the floor on my knees that I realised a) sliding on your knees makes you look like a bit of a fool b) There was no rhythm to my rapping and c) while thinking about a and b I had forgotten the words to the verse and finally d) that there was a high definition camera in front of me recording every embarrassing second.  Needless to say I wasn’t a big hit with the judges- but hey, you can’t let the haters get you down.  Besides, I’m glad I was able to contribute something from my culture, because back in New Zealand I wondered if we even had one. 

Culture is one of those funny words like ‘Love’ or ‘Eow’ (from the common Whakatane greeting ‘Sup Eow!’); it’s a word that has yet to be completely understood or defined in the English language.  Culture does have a kind of vague, understood definition of values and knowledge that a society has in common though, such as the French eating frogs.  Often history plays a key role in these unique customs and beliefs as they are built up generation by generation.  And here’s New Zealand’s cultural issue: we just aren’t that old.  There is no doubt the native Maori peoples of New Zealand have created a distinct and vibrant culture from a number of tribes, but I’d always thought 'Pakeha' (or foreign) historic culture in New Zealand was lacking a unique spark.  There were our interesting early days of being the ‘Hellhole of the Pacific’ (which I’ve always thought would make a cool theme park), but that was swept under the carpet as we were moulded by Britain into ‘Godzone’; a puritanical nation of farmers, whose sole purpose was to provide meat for the motherland.  Over time our links with the United Kingdom have faded but their cultural footprint remains- a watered down version of original customs such as the English diet or the occasional Scottish bagpipe tune.  At least Australia, our neighbouring colony, had some convicts and crocodiles to spice things up- all we had were pretty mountains. 

This issue struck me the most in 2005, while I was visiting the Kingdom of Tonga in the Pacific Islands.   I was over there for a youth meeting of the Pacific Anglican church as a representative of ‘Pakeha’ New Zealand, and as part of the event our delegation had to do a performance to demonstrate our culture.  I remember our group of pasty Pakehas looking at each other thinking ‘what the hell are we supposed to do? Act like farmers?’.   The Maori group already had the pois swinging and the Pacific Islanders were gliding gracefully across the stage in their traditional outfits.   And the Pakeha? We sang the New Zealand folk song ‘Ten Guitars’ by Arnold Dorsey.  There are a few cultural issues with this choice though: Mr Dorsey was actually an Englishman, who grew up in India (but never lived in New Zealand) and wrote a song popular with displaced Maori-in other words, nothing to do with us.  So it can be a struggle in New Zealand to find our point of difference in the world.  I think sometimes our country has been guilty of trying too hard to manufacture a personality or image for ourselves- such as the ‘100% pure’ environmental tag that director Lee Tamahori mocks in the opening shot of his film ‘Once were Warriors’. These attempts to create our own culture from our meagre history has lead to what has been called ‘cultural cringe’- a kind of post-colonial inferiority complex, in which we see the culture and achievements of other countries as much more important than our own.  I have to admit that before I left New Zealand I was often one of the cringers. 

And then I landed in America and everything changed.  The blank looks I got as I first tried to communicate the word “bar” in our lazy nasal semi-Brit accent meant that whether I liked it or not I was a foreigner.  Culture, a term I was looking at cynically immediately became concrete- in the words of the great Martin Lawrence: “sh*t just got real”.  In Georgia, the New Zealand way of life stands out and manifests itself in tiny things- the direction that you flick a lightswitch, the temperature of a room or the packaging on generic candy bars.  The world hasn’t turned upside-down for me, it’s just shifted on its axis a bit.  However it is impossible to ignore an overall change in mindset that comes from living in the world’s number one power (which is something I’ll explore later in the blog).  Also Kiwiana- the gimmicky stereotyped images of New Zealand like plastic kiwis and novelty t-shirts suddenly take on a whole new significance when you’re the only New Zealander for 300 miles.   Back home, the sight of Kiwiana would bring out the ‘cultural cringe’ factor.  Here though they have tangible significance- if only for a one New Zealander living in the middle of the American South.

   

There's always been a thin line between bravery and stupidity in history.  Sometimes you can be both- like the charge of the ‘Light Brigade’ in the Crimean war.  Those men sharpened their swords and rode gallantly and fearlessly straight at the rows of enemy cannons...and got absolutely massacred.  That’s probably the best way to describe our GRSP idol tribute to the Flight of the Chonchords.  But I didn’t travel halfway around the world to just sit in the corner and be embarrassed of our culture.  New Zealand may suffer from being ‘Little Britan’ but that doesn’t mean our culture doesn’t exist.  If you want proof just look at your surroundings and think how strange the concept of ‘normal’ life is in the first place.   As for me, I’m off to destroy a certain piece of evidence on a high definition video camera.  Enjoy the weekend!

The Story so Far

The Declaration of Independence was signed on 4^th July 1776, and heralded the way for a new chapter in global politics, as young America grew up and declared itself old enough to choose its own path in the world.  234 years later as I put down my Budweiser and watched a Gorilla dance with a sleazy Mexican I can’t help but think I’m about to make the same sort of journey.  But I’m getting ahead of myself- because I nearly didn’t make it.  Let’s start at the start. 

I applied for the Georgia Rotary Scholarship way back in June 2009.  At the time I was finishing up my degree and was looking for a change of direction.  The Scholarship seemed like a perfect fit: Run by the Rotary Clubs of Georgia in the Southern United States, the program promoted international goodwill and the sharing of culture by sponsoring students all over the world to spend a year in a Georgian University.  The more I read the better it sounded.  It would be an awesome challenge to me to live in a new culture, with new people and a new outlook on life.  But three months later my Scholarship hopes were over before they had even started.  My dreams were being crushed in a town called W(h)anganui  by a little SAT test that turned into one of the toughest times of my life.

 

Now I’m guessing SAT stands for something pretty innocuous like ‘Standard Achievement Test’ although from my experience, ‘Satan’s Anal Torture’ wouldn’t be far off the mark.  The test itself was pretty simple: a half English Grammar, half Mathematics exam that was rated around NCEA Level 3 and had to be completed for my application.  The first little problem I found was that I had (purposely) forgotten almost all my Maths and English from High School three years ago; the second being that I had to re-learn them in mid-September, right in the middle of my final University term. To make things a bit more interesting I had gone to a family reunion a few weeks before and picked up a nasty cold from one of my baby nephews.  Unfortunalty that cold was in fact Whooping cough, affectionately known as the ‘The Hundred Day Cold’, a condition which transformed me into an incredible flem producing machine for the next three months. 

Regardless I decided to bite the bullet and sign up for the SAT, only to find out that all the test spots had been taken.  There was only one reserve spot left, in W(h)anganui  (From now on I’ll use the Michael Laws spelling), but no-one could give me any guarantee that they had papers or that I could actually do the test.  Looking at the costs involved with the test, travel and accommodation I had serious doubts whether I should throw away that precious time and money on a test I might not sit about subjects I couldn’t remember.  America seemed a long way away.  So I guess it was faith, determination and a bit of stupidity that caused me to buy the tickets, book a cheap backpackers room and travel to Wanganui to face my destiny. 

Now maybe it was the effect of the Whooping cough in stormy Wanganui, or that the stress of it all had got to me, but my time in the city passed like some strange lucid dream.  Lights and buildings flashed before me in a haze as I tried to find my way with a soggy Google Maps printout.  The Wanganui locals would have looked out of their windows to see a pale sickly Gollum, coughing and spluttering down the sodden streets, muttering to himself intelligibly.  Finally at night I found the backpackers but immediately regretted the uber-cheap room choice as the three German men sharing my room started to talk (what I’m guessing was) global politics before turning on the light to read into the early hours of the morning.

As test day dawned I dragged myself from the bed, (making sure I made enough noise to wake my sleeping European roommates) and caught a taxi to the exam.  Then I met Lindsey Lohan.  Now if it wasn’t Lindsey herself it must be her doppelganger from that ‘Parent Trap’ movie; either that or my Whooping Delirium had deteriorated overnight.  Whatever the way, Lindsey was in charge of the test and thus determined my fate.  After I coughed and croaked to her for a bit she must have made out the words ‘wait list’ because she was on the telephone for 15 minutes.  The wait was excruciating.  But as she came back she gave me that sweet smile from ‘Freaky Friday’ and told me I could do the test.  My fellow test-takers (mainly snotty college kids) seemed less than impressed when they found out they would be spending three and a half hours with a guy who sounded like death warmed up, but I just wrote away with a big grin on my face.  I did think about asking Lindsey for her autograph after the test or having a photo taken but I didn’t really want to get on the bad side of my test marker- you know how celebrities get with those kind of things.

And while I can’t remember a single thing on that test paper I must have done alright because three months later I got an email telling me I had been accepted for the Scholarship.  While there was still an insane amount of paperwork to go through, the body was on the mend, life was looking up, and nothing – and I mean nothing, could stop me getting on this trip now I had survived Wanganui. 

Which brings us back to King Kong and Illegal Mexican immigrants at my Independence Day American-themed costume party; a final chance to say goodbye to some of my best friends the only way we know how: gorge ourselves on snack food and cheap alcohol, laugh, sing, dance, drink and chat until the early hours of the morning.  Damn I’m going to miss Kiwiland, but just like the Founding Fathers who signed the declaration all those years ago I need to find my own way.  In my personal war of Independence I’m going to take away everything I know and am familiar with and see what’s left. My flight leaves on the3^rd of August for LA.  I can’t wait.     

Special thanks to all those who helped me to get over to the US including my family, The Whakatane West Rotary Club, Representatives from Rotary Tauranga, Dicksmith Manners Mall and my Application References.

Also thanks for anyone who actually read this entry all the way through.  I have no idea how often I’ll be able to update it or how long the entries will be but if people are interested in it, I’ll keep writing it.