This is just the ‘filler’ post I suppose.

I have won two scholarships to go to the University of California (Berkeley campus) in the US of A. How this happened I don’t know – I signed a form here, chatted to a person there, and suddenly I’m being congratulated on my imminent deportment from fair New Zealand.

For those of my friends that live under a rock (Hi Stephen!) I am an Army Officer Cadet in the New Zealand defence force. This has made organising a Student Exchange trip to America both interesting and intellectually stimulating.

Firstly I sent an army ‘minute’ (an official request form) to my bosses. My immediate boss (my Captain) wasn’t very keen, as I am probably the worst Officer Cadet in the entire world, and she knows this full well. Despite her reservations, it was sent up to my big boss (my Lieutenant-Colonel) who was very pleased. It’s not everyday an Officer Cadet is asked to go to a prestigious university in America, and because he’s a bit more removed from me, he only intellectually knows I’m the worst Officer Cadet in the entire world. He sent it up the line to army HQ, where it disappeared. It only emerged four months later after a full Colonel (my lecturer at University) hunted himself down some snark.

I then had to worry about the University itself. Firstly was the accommodation people, who took my application money and never sent me an email again (despite me emailing them a couple of times to find out where it went, and being told that they’ve got my application, but nothing else.) Next was the visa people – I did the interview and paid my mega amounts of money to have it processed, but the university needs to send a form to the US embassy in New Zealand as well, so the US embassy knows that I’m not just lying to get entry into the US. They only sent this special form yesterday, a month after it was requested, and only after an amazingly angry official from Massey University (where I study) sent off a blistering email to them.
Adding insult to injury, the university is now demanding the princely sum of 50c USD, for goodness knows what. I can’t even pay them, because they only accept transfers from American bank accounts, and no credit cards.

I have paid for my tickets, and am sweating blood when I think of everything that can go wrong.

That's pretty much it - I will post news as its comes.

Margie

written by  Crosswood on July 5, 2007 from Palmerston North, New Zealand
from the travel blog: New Zealand Student, American University.
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Some of you may have heard that this week I have been on an Army Exercise called Exercise Frosty Boy. It's personal development - on skis! Now I haven't been able to ski before so I was naturally a little nervous. Actually a lot nervous. To cap it off I wasn't even with my army year-group, who are Officer Cadets I with whom I risk life and limb on a semi-regular basis and whom I trust and respect. Instead I was with newbie OCdts who don't know their 'shun from their turns and wouldn’t care if someone pointed out the difference. Actually I’m lying – this trip has taught me a lot about them, and they’re pretty bright. Most of the time.

Sunday last week, we flew to Christchurch, and then to Burnham military camp. The army, in its infinite wisdom, decided to entrust me with about $8000 (at least) worth of personal kit (skis, crampons, harness, crash helmet, ect) for me to look after.
This made me paranoid and I have been walking around with a queer sideways look at people all week. I was pleased to hand it back this morning, even if I was the coolest kid on the Queenstown Ski fields (brand new skis coupled with army camo snow gear? People were coming up to us to ask us where to enlist. People respectfully got out of our way on the magic-carpet. It was awesome, except for one lady at the snow farm who asked if we were part of a weird club. She’s sorta right.)

After a day or so driving down to Queenstown (and myself unsuccessfully trying to eat $35 dollars worth of food, because the Army was shouting), we hit the snow on so-called 'misery sticks' - cross country skis. The directing staff said to us - "Personal development team! Go down River Run road and get to Meadow Hut." Boldly the others set forth along the road, but I decided to take a different route. A hint for future travelers at the Cadronia Ski Farm: if you want to get to Meadow Hut on River Run road, you should do what I did and take the path marked with the big sign that says "River Road", instead of the road the other officer took marked "The Highlander" (which they’d already been on and knew took a giant circle back to the lodge.) They did catch up to me however - Ma'am (our Officer) threatened to kick anyone who didn't out of the Kippenberger Class. I am the most unfit person in the class, and so thought the instructors were taking the piss when they congratulated me on making it to the first large corner so quickly.

After making the hut, there followed the drudgery of uphill skiing. I didn't even realise it was possible. It shouldn’t be – it’s reasonably unpleasant. It was beautiful however, so you quickly get over everything else.

My glasses were not being kind to me. First they fogged up hard, then they started to buckle from the rapid changes in temperature (it was 2 degrees out of the van), and later on they froze to the floor of the tent. Did I mention we slept outside? Negative 15 degrees. Our breath was freezing to everything it touched (including the tent) and when I left my water bottle outside my sleeping-bag for literally 30 seconds it froze totally solid. The glasses continued to be a problem, fogging up while digging the snow cave and repeatedly loosing the clip-on sunnies that were the only thing stopping me from a more painful blindness than I already have.

The night navigation circuit before we tented that first night was fun though - we were given a GPS at night and told to find some markers. Since the GPS told us where to go with a giant arrow, it wasn't very hard, but some Muppets still managed to walk round and round in circles until time was up.

The next day was more skiing. Bearing in mind that we'd only been on skis a day, the instructors decided we were good enough to do the 'Advanced Only' route, which we duly did. The views of Mt Aspiring were awesome.

Downhill ski day was a blast. There is no only way to describe it. I love skiing – it’s my type of sport. Chairlift up and gravity down! The only thing you have to worry about is stopping. That gets tricky when you load a 35kg + pack on and try skiing down the slope. I looked so cool doing it people were cheering me from the chairlift when I rocketed by underneath. Luckily they gave us a whole day to get used to the new type of skis before we had to do this, otherwise I’d have looked like a slowly moving twerp.
Unfortunately, the second day our chairlift passes expired and we got to walk to the very top of the Remarkable Ski area, on skis. Then we built our sweet snow-caves which we then slept in that night. Snow caves are shaped like an L and you can tell how claustrophobic people are by how big they dig them. Mine was really wide, but very low, which I later regretted. I’m tall and couldn’t sit up properly. It was also something like 15-18 feet long, when it was only supposed to be about 9-12 feet long, because I misheard the instructions. (I was toasty and the others weren’t though, so I win!) It took me an hour to get dressed the next morning, because whenever I touched the roof my beanie would freeze to the roof, and the struggle to free myself would entangle me in something else. The glamour of it all nearly overwhelms me.

Today it’s home time. I’ve learnt, experientially, that I withdraw inward when tired. I’ve also experientially learnt that first year Kippenberger Cadets look after kit a whole lot better after a big ex-SAS, ex-Warrant Officer whose face looks like its been beaten with a shovel, tells you calmly that he’ll take it amiss if anything is lost.

It’s been a great exercise, and thanks for everyone who’s reading this blog. I’ll post more on the saga of the Great American Trip next time, and it’ll be much more funny. This is a splurge post, as I haven’t totally finished and am still tired and bruised (or so bruised!) from the whole ‘skiing’ thing.

written by  Crosswood on July 13, 2007 from Queensbury, New Zealand
from the travel blog: New Zealand Student, American University.
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Dad decided that he would ‘help’ me try to find a billet by sending an email out to the Episcopalian churches in the Berkeley area. Obviously the words ‘a’ and ‘the’ are just optional extras to the English language and so he left them out. (His explanation was that he was making it ‘succinct.’) Mum then read it an commented it made me sound like a bit of a whore. All in all, not one of Dad’s more successful interventions.

But the accommodation people are the real problem. Imagine making reassuring noises to hundreds of students coming to the states over from all over the world, and then telling them they have to pay an extra $4000 to go to your hostel? Hmmmm.

The US visa people want more money, but that isn’t anything new. It’s like pouring water into a large black hole.

On the positive side, I have applied for some courses. They all have names like ‘Russia: Bronze age to 1700’and ‘National Security Concerns in a Modern World’’. Sounds pretty cool – but subject to change, and it looks like since I’m the least important student on campus I’m going to get dicked around if an American wants to go to that class.

I looked at my airpoints and might have enough to go on standby for the Premium Economy seats. That’d be nice – room to stretch out a little.

All in all, everything is bad, and I am starting to stress. Those dastardly propaganda posters! ‘Study in America’ they say – they don’t mention the mega amount of paperwork you have to do.

Anyway, I will try to keep updating. Nothing interesting is happening as yet.

written by  Crosswood on July 23, 2007 from Palmerston North, New Zealand
from the travel blog: New Zealand Student, American University.
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Anyway, yesterday I finally managed to find accommodation! Actually, using the word ‘I’ is a little/lot misleading – my mother found it. Honestly, speed and aggression seem to be the key to getting what you want! Mum took one look at my increasingly desperate attempts to find a place to stay, took charge (to my annoyance) and in about half a day had a suitable place.

It’s called ‘Westminster House’ and it’s a Christian non-residential hall. It sounds like I’m getting my own room, but its jolly expensive. This room was possibly the last one left, and the people at the house were dropping hints that there was more than one person after the room. I was sent the agreement to sign, all nice and properly, only I had to fax it back. Who in the world under the age of thirty has used a fax machine nowadays?? I had to do the mean sprint down to church (where my sister was being confirmed), drag my Dad back to our house (he didn’t protest much though – these occasions, important as they may be, are often excruciatingly painful for those watching), and send a fax for me. Luckily Annabel hardly missed us at all – she looked gorgeous up in the sanctuary for the record. Bishop Tom’s (Bish. of Welly) daughter designed his periwinkle blue/purple-shot official robes (she was a costume designer for the Lord of the Rings and got a little creative) and even HE didn’t outshine Annabel. But I digress.

Unfortunately, Mum’s rather successful intervention in my organisation has left both her and dad with the idea that it’s now somehow their trip as well. I had to fight them in order to make sure I was paying for the damn thing – honestly, how selfless can you get, trying to pay for your daughters’ hugely expensive semi-holiday to the United States?? And I won scholarships (MORE THAN ONE!) to go, so it’s not as if I’m paying for most of it anyway!!! Absolutely mad. Less appreciated, but still selfless is their meddling in my banking arrangements. (‘Oh, just use your card and put all your money in our account. We’ll just top you up as you need it!’)
That ain’t happening.

But the biggest and most pressing of my problems has kinda vanished, and it’s now time to sort of the niggles. I will post more as the time gets closer. Leaving date – 17 Aug 2007! (And I still haven’t decided how I’m getting up to ye old Auckland Airport. Wish me luck on that as well.)

written by  Crosswood on July 29, 2007 from Wellington, New Zealand
from the travel blog: New Zealand Student, American University.
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Accomodation: Sorted. Paid for. Done.
Army worries: Punishment for minor crimes taken and discharged. I'm free to go -
(a bit alarming was them asking me WHERE I was going a day and a half before I left them, but in hindsight this is a good thing. The less they actaully care about me, the more freedom I have.)
Food: Haven't paid for. Will put on the highest prioirty when I arrive.
New Camera: Paid for. Won't work on the laptop I'll be taking. Drat!!
Clothes: A day of pain and agony have resulted in a wardrobe that my perants don't cringe over, and that I feel comfortable in. My little sister came as well, and I notice she still thinks that the bigger and uglier the belt is the more fashionable the outfit beomces. Urrrgh.
Travel: Booked and paid for tickets to Auckland, then to San Fransico. Good/great friends of my family coming hugely long way to meet me at the airport. Feeling guilty about that. Feeling happy they're coming though!
Study: Berkeley hasn't changed its mind. I'm coming now if it's ready or not!

I have had two parties - one my friends' birthday and one going away party. My friends' birthday was very fun (for me) but when I get nervous I get loud and annoying, so I don't know if everyone else had such a great time. (Mental cringe factor going on here.)
Leaving dinner was for family - very nice, but all my social energy was exhusted by the stupid shopping and I was as drained as a stien of beer before Gillain's birthday. (In joke - sorry. That's pretty drained.)

Next post will be from the land of the free. I don't know why they call it that, because nothing in America is free, not even if you have a heart attack, but hey. Maybe that's why they call it the home of the brave?

written by  Crosswood on August 12, 2007 from Wellington, New Zealand
from the travel blog: New Zealand Student, American University.
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Dad's apartment was very cool, and his workmates are fantastic. It was a bit of a pity - Mum spent ages with me at the airport and I felt very loved as I stepped on the plane to Auckland, but Dad got a business call and sort-of forgot that he wouldn't see me for ages, and so ust walked off after waving goodbye. I'm lucky he was there at all I suppose.

The airline made a mistake in the upgrading of my flights, so I can look forward to sitting in my flash premium seat on the way home from the states, instead of going to. The flight was pretty bad - I get sick, and so all the time I was trying to stop myself from vomiting over the ldy next to me, who had super-bad breath. Luckily I was nice to the check-in lady who got me the best seats in the plane - right behind the partition seperating us plebs from the big crowd. Lots of leg room, and steaming hot tea delivered every half-hour- paradise! No sleep though.

When I arrived, all's I can say is thank god Andy and Lisa decided that they'd come down. Firstly they have a great car with sat nav, which was cool because A) the hostel is a zillion miles from the airport and no buses go near it B) I had no idea where I was going apart from an address C) the place I'm staying is seperate from the office of the company that owns it, and we had to go there to pick up keys and things, but they didn't tell me this before I arrived. If Andy didn't have his wi-fi gizmit on him then we wouldn't have found the address - what would have happened if the two of them hadn't come down?

I also got myself a bank account very easily from a strange man in a strange bank. Unfortunitly I can't get money in from New Zealand easily because America uses a different transfer system from the rest of the world, and I can't even pay stuff online because I don't have a socal security number. We found this out when I bought a new mobile, and Andy spent forever trying to connect it for me. He is having to stump up the capital and I am pathetically, pathetically greatful. I now hav to sort out how to pay him back. Luckily the bank did give me a check book. Why? Who knows.

My room is in a basement. I am not joking - I am next to the comman room, the lundry and a guy named Greg. I haven't met Greg yet, but he lives next door and his nametag is there, so hey. I do get my own bathroom (with Greg and the visiters to the comman room), my on fridge and my own mircowave. Why? Who knows. My opening line is going to be - "Hi. My name is Margie, and I'm the New Zealander who lives in the basement."
It has a certain something.

Signing off from America

Margie

My firt American meal was a Lebonese lamb dish. It was fantasic, but so big! I passed on dessert - far to much for me!

Tomorrow I go on a supermarket hunt. Wish me luck.

written by  Crosswood on August 17, 2007 from Berkeley, United States
from the travel blog: New Zealand Student, American University.
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The supermarket had nothing I recognised. I was completely at the mercy of Americans.
Take washing powder for instance. They don't have it. They have a funny washing liquid, and each liquid is for a different thing. You'd think they'd put on the label what each was for but apparently it's so comman that they don't.
Milk - more varities than I have ever seen. I just wanted normal milk, but nothing is 'normal', you must have a zillion different choices.
The folders all have three holes in them instead of two, so none of my document can be safely stored away. I bought an 'accordian folder' instead.

I have eaten scollaps and Crab today, and they wre both very, VERY good. I am sunburned and tired, but have been onboard an American submarine and strolled Fisherman's Warf (sp?), with the Golden gate bridge in the background.

Why is American money all the same size and colour?

So tired. Sleep now.

Margie

written by  Crosswood on August 18, 2007 from San Francisco, United States
from the travel blog: New Zealand Student, American University.
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Luckily my dorm-mates invited me to a High School Musical 2 Singalong, and the whole thing didn’t seem so bad. An authors note: Americans are a bit cheesy. Their advertising sells them the idea that a certain product has honour, or courage, or something like that, instead of that it’s a good product. They love the whole idealism thing. It’s a bit strange, but after a while it’s strangely uplifting, because they actually believe it, and try and live like that.

Every American I have met (that wasn’t a crazy homeless man in the street telling me that the apocalypse was coming) has been polite and pleasant (if a little caught up in what ethnicity you are). They have invited me along to stuff, enthused over New Zealand and really made an effort to understand my accent, which is apparently like listening to someone with a mouth full of mushy peas, who chops words off quickly in order to stop them from falling out. I think Americans sound like they’re talking through golden syrup – all slow drawling and few inflections on words.

Today I went to a compulsory check-in meeting, and at the end they gave me a work permit! Happy, happy times! At another place they said (through a friendly Aussie translator) they’d work on one of my more pressing problems, food. The uni wants me to pay for a year’s supply, when I only need six months. As I was walking to get enough money for health insurance (it’s depressing how money runs out so fast) I was halted by a huge brass-band playing a free concert. They were fantastic! They tossed their instruments into the air, waved them in perfect unison and even did tricks with each others’ instruments. It was awesome, and then they gave me a free dinner at the end!

Food is still an issue, but its all good really. I bought a pizza which I have been chomping on for the last three days, and I still have half left. I don’t think you realise how huge the portions served here are – I need to do a lot of exercise or I will gain weight!

Finally, we walked to the top of a small hill to see the whole Bay Area spread out below us, including the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz Island. Some of the others thought it was a hike, and were thrilled with themselves when they reached the top. Think walking up Molesworth Street to the very top. They also believed they were going to die when they were asked to walk sideways along a 30 degree slope. Admittedly, some of them come from places where they have never seen a hill in their lives, so I suppose I shouldn’t be too hard on them.

I am having a lovely time and wish you were here

Cheers

Margie

written by  Crosswood on August 20, 2007 from Berkeley, United States
from the travel blog: New Zealand Student, American University.
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The Cal Berkeley library is magnificent. It's all gleaming marble and inlayed gold, with the most enormous paintings of famous Americans – like ‘Washington Rallying the Troops at Monmouth’. A nice a nice American showed me that in a burst of patriotism, and I couldn't decide if she was showing me this because she hated me or because she liked me (it shows a whole bunch of British people being ground underfoot, and this was when she thought I was British). Out the fount of the building there is a field where Cal (what students of the University, or 'Golden Bears' shorten the University name to) students gather and have parties, and stuff like that. Today was a fair of all the 600 clubs in Cal, and it was a free-stuff bonanza. Some of the clubs were very funny – each ethnicity had its own association, then each religion, then all the various conscience groups had a stall. Some of the conscience groups I thought must be a joke (‘Veterans for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals in Eastern European and Asian Countries’) but they were all very serious and had professionally done flyers to try and convince you that their group was the one to support. The Air Force had a stall there as well, but even though the entire area was packed with students, there was a ring of space around that poor cadet. He looked pretty uncomfortable. The military hadn’t chosen the best spot to set-up though – right opposite the ‘end Iraqi war' guys. That was street entertainment at its best.

I also went to the Cafe that students like the most. It was nice, and the food was excellent. It’s very interesting, because you can eat as much as you like, but it’s like four or five restaurants in one place, and you pay to get in. There are apparently five or six of these all over campus, each with different stuff each night.

I have also been going to some ‘On The Same Page’ seminars which the Collage of Letters and Sciences organised to help students met each other. Everyone at Berkeley is a geek in their own way – no one I’ve met hasn’t been anything less than brilliant – so these seminars were really interesting.

The first one I went to degenerated into the official history of America for the disbelieving foreigner, and so was a bit of a fiasco. (There were only five or six people there though, so the lecturer wasn’t getting flustered or anything). The second one I decided to lie low, and so only make comments that couldn’t be contradicted.
We were talking about the declaration of independence, and about the three rights in it that the founders claimed were unalienable – life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. The lecturer asked why these things were picked and not others. Unalienable means not transferable, so I figured I could make a safe comment here which wouldn't sound too stupid. I said that you can’t really transfer these rights full stop – for example the person next to me couldn’t reincarnate a dead body by giving that dead body his 'life'. It sounds a bit strange when I rock out with that on this webpage, but it made sense to say it at the time. Anyway, I digress. A lovely young lady on the opposite side of the table decided I was wrong. She stood up and said “But Black people were discriminated against so much that its hard for people who haven’t been discriminated against to understand that their life was so bad that it really wasn’t like they were human.”
'..............OK?' I thought. What is this lady on about? I therefore prolonged my suffering by pointing out that in a biological sense the slaves couldn’t transfer their lives to the slave owners' body so that they could live forever or something, so they probably still had the right to not transfer their life. Murmurs of agreement rippled thoughout the room. I possibly should have said nothing however, because then she got defensive and said that I was an undiscriminated against white person, and how would I know? By this stage I was frantic – I really wanted out of this conversation. Unfortunately I inherited my fathers trait of making the situation a joke in the hope it will go away, and so I pointed out she didn’t know if I had been discriminated against because I was a New Zealander.
Mistake. Everyone else laughed though.
Once she stormed out of the room in a huff I stopped talking – it seemed safer.

Today was the EAP meet and greet lunch, which was a bit boring, but I did win a thermal cup for my lame tree-man story. Apparently no one could understand my accent, not even the Aussies this time, so the laugher was sporadic, but I did get a great mug. I also met lots of new people. I have met so many nice people in five days that I can't believe New Zealand lives up to the whole 'we're really friendly' thing. Americans take the cake. And they’re all ruddy smart – you’ve got to be on your toes when you talk to them because they’re pretty switched on and they know when you’re out of your depth.

I'll post some pictures of people I've met - they won't mean anything to you I suppose, but they're nice for me to look at and if they come on here wondering what I'm typing about then they've got soemthing to look at as well.

Cheers and wishing you were here

Margie

written by  Crosswood on August 23, 2007 from Berkeley, United States
from the travel blog: New Zealand Student, American University.
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I bought enough of them today to fill a library and that was only for two of my five papers! I am feeling very overwhelmed at the moment, because Massey told me to take a minimum of 16 units (which is four more than recommended) and then the American army dumped more on top of that. I think I will be spending more of my precious American time running around desperately trying not to be late rather than soaking up the atmosphere of this magnificent campus.

Today (and yesterday) was Caltopia. This is like a trade fair on steroids – when I went there I made a mistake and went during lunch-time. The gym was full of 15 000 students and one marching band, so things were a little too intense for me. I got lots of free stuff – from the most unlikely of places. I was walking along when a lady from the sperm-bank gave me a key ring with “only the strong survive” on it. I got roasted peanuts from the airline that was advertising there, and I had to move REALLY fast to avoid being recruited into an Army contest to see who could do the most push-ups. That ain’t me team.

Anyway, back to my huge pile of textbooks. Now I am broke. Due to some strange American thing you have to be in New Zealand to transfer money to an overseas account from a New Zealand account. To get around this I get to do a bit of a musical money game where I transfer it to my parents who transfer it to me in America. Parents are great.

Tomorrow I have soccer practice which should be very fun, except I have to get up early and then get hit in the head by a soccer ball fired by someone called Francisco (who is this Italian guy). In fact my entire team seems to be made up of Germans and Italians, the two countries who made the finals of last year’s world soccer cup. I hope I don’t get hurt – medical insurance here costs the earth and they haven’t sent me my blue card that says I’m covered yet. Our mail seems to be disappearing into the mists of time at the moment, and we really need to fix it so I can feel safe!

I am being invited to heaps of things at the moment - like Frat parties and volleyball games ad stuff. The Volleyball games are intense - Americans get really into the whole thing. There were about two thousand people there (at a University womens volleyball game!) and whenever we scored the commentator would yell "POINT!" and we'd throw our fists into the air and yell back "BEARS!" A huge chorus of groans would come when the othe team scored. At half time we had a player profile and then my side of the gym yelled "GO!" and the other side yelled "BEARS!" It was pretty cool actually - it's great to be part of that type of support. They never once booed - even when the refs made some downright wacky calls. Apparently that's an antipodean thing.

Anyway - STILL having a great time

STILL wish you were here (and you should wish that as well!)

Cheers

Margie

written by  Crosswood on August 25, 2007 from Berkeley, United States
from the travel blog: New Zealand Student, American University.
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