ahh, why yes, the real world. nice to see you again

Fast forward about 6 months.  I'm back from Antarctica, jobless and purposeless and living at my mom's.  It sounds really pathetic, but it actually rocks....for now.  I know I should find a job, but my unemployment check just got processed and if the numbers are right, I'll be making almost as much per week NOT WORKING as I was when I worked 50+ hrs/week in Antarctica.  Plus, I don't feel bad collecting unemployment because I already paid into unemployment insurance with my last two jobs.  But, I've been home for three weeks and as much as sleeping in rocks, I feel guilty for having it so easy and while I don't necessarily want to get a job, I feel that I should.  So, I probably will. 

Jaialdi is coming up this summer, as is Josh's weeklong family reunion, so finding a flexible job is probably pretty key.  I don't care if I don't get paid vacation, I just need to be able to take time off when I want.   Time is MUCH more important to me than money (says the girl who has never paid more than $200/mo rent in her life....)

a snapshot of our new zealand trip

“thank you for pulling over!!” Josh waved to a campervan as we streaked through the Alpine Pacific Triangle section of Highway 1. We’re headed to Kaikoura, a beach town two hours North of Christchurch on the coast. We’re driving through what looks suspiciously like the Snake River plain, with arid farmland, foothills, and fields of sheep butts (the sheep’s heads are down to their task of grazing). We just left an area where there were wineries on either side of the highway for miles, and I imagined what it would be like if came back here someday, and could afford any of the attractions of the region-- namely, wine. The last couple of days Josh and I have been staying at the South Brighton Motor Camp, sandwiched between the beach at New Brighton and the estuary of the Avon River, on a wildlife preserve. Motorcamps are pretty interesting institutions.  The closest comparison in the States is an RV park; indeed, there are several motorhomes and hookups and trailers.  But there are also tent sites for rent, in which Josh and I gladly partook.  When you rent a tent site, you also have use of the amenities block, which includes showers, a kitchen and sometimes a pricy internet connection or wireless tokens. 

Kaikoura, in Maori, means "dinner of crayfish," and I'm hoping to feast on some fresh crayfish when we roll into the little beach town this afternoon.

Hung out in Dogtown too long

My Stanley summer is finally coming to an end. Stanley really is a magical place, but if you’re stuck with a shitty job, it takes away your lust for life. I know i’m being really melodramatic about it, and part of it is that I’ve always only had freelance or part-time summer jobs, never a real 9-to-5er (or in this case, a 6:30-2:30er). A huge part of Stanley is socializing in the bars at night, meeting new people, planning adventures, listening to country music, and occasionally drinking (resort towns are far too expensive to get drunk at the bar every night.) I missed out on that part of it, partly because I felt bad that Josh couldn’t go, but mostly because my body and mind were so tired from waiting on 200 people that day that I just wanted to go home and sleep. I might come back here again, because it’s a great place, but I definitely wouldn’t hire on to the Swillage again. It’s far too hectic for what it was, and if I’m in Stanley, I’m gonna enjoy it, goddamn it.

I’m now entering a brief liminal period filled with gear shopping, trying on boots, buying long underwear, reviewing itineraries, and entering the long wave-train of paperwork, Raytheon orientations, and flight-layover-flight-layover-flight-layover-ICE-type schedules. Then it will be a new chapter of my life, filled with hard labor, endless days (literally, the sun doesn’t set), and bitter, bitter cold. I’m pumped!

Mountain Mamas

This past weekend was the Mountain Mamas Arts and Crafts Fair, which, before I attended, I thought ws an actual craft fair, with fun craft booths for the kids, maybe a merry-go-round, etc. However, the locals here speak of it not as a family fun event, but as another goddamn roadblock in Stanley. Which is sort of what it was-- not only is the 3rd weekend in July Stanley's biggest weekend b/c of Mountain Mamas, but it is probably statistically the best weekend to go camping as well. These powers combined (much like Captain Planet) led to what has been possibly the worst weekend of the summer for me as a server at the Swillage. Goddamn that place and all the non-English speaking people they hire. I LOVE people from other countries, but I blame the restaurant for hiring people in positions where you have to be fluent, and they're not.

You Just Got Rick-Rolled!

For the first time today, I actually felt a twinge of happiness at living in Stanley. I know that in previous posts I mentioned that it was a wonderful place to live, blah blah blah, I should be greatful, and it's true, but my job's diet consisted exclusively of my soul and Mountain Village was slowly munching away at it, 40 hours at a time. Katie Pond said that this place would draw you back, but most of the time I hate my job so much that I didn't really believe her until now. There's no goddamn way I would come back and work for the Swillage (as its former employees so lovingly refer to it), but if I could somehow score a job at Riverwear or something cool, I would. Problem is, I don't think good jobs are easy to get here, since a good job in Stanley is such an ideal situation and peeps hang onto something once they get it.

daaaaay tripper

I think it’s safe to say I’m “tripping” on hydrocodone right now. I took two instead of one tonight, partly in frustration of my tooth-hole pain (extraction of wisdom teeth, hence the availability of hydrocodone), partly from wanting to be able to go to sleep earlier, and party from wanting to see what it would feel like to actually be stoned on it. It feels pretty good. Relaxing, drowsy-ing, a tiny bit dizzying. I do feel euphoric though, a bit, which is nice. I had kind of a bummer session this afternoon when it hit me that Josh would be gone for 4 days. Still trying to figure out if I should go down there to Boise on Thursday after work since I have Friday off.

I’ve only been working for a few days at MV and I’ve already experienced incredible frustration that accompanies a 40 hr/wk job. I think it may actually be worse since I don’t necessarily have weekends off, and those are the times when I would want to come to Boise.

I think summer will be a time of character-building for me in many, many ways. “Having” to be outside all the time will be a big change for me, and a good one. My exercise habits and eating habits will change, and hopefully become more stable. (For example, hiking to the top of the butte each day is a great goal.) I’m going to reduce my screen/internet time vastly, I can already tell, and learn some songs on the guitar for Open Mic nights at the K Club. And I’m going to write in my journal. I ‘ve noticed a trend with journaling…when I do it, my life is consistently better. Not sure if it’s a correlation or actually cause/effect, but there’s some sort of relationship, so I will do it.

I was reading Dove Rainbow’s travel blog earlier tonight and her entry was about getting stuck on a section of highway on her way to a hut while hitchhiking in New Zealand. She was frustrated about not getting picked up, but changed her attitude and made her day so much better instantaneously. It’s incredibly applicable to my Stanley situation; I’m frustrated at I don’t know what.. (not having a busy social calendar?) but I need to realize that life is actually really good right now. I’m with a really awesome guy who treats me well. We live together in a cozy apartment with pretty cheap rent within walking distance to work (up a gorgeous little trail). We’re in a mountain playground where people pay really good money to experience for a weekend what we get to experience every day. That air outside is clean and breathable, and there’s grass and wildlife and mountains. Anyone should be appy in this situation, and I’ve decided that I’m going to be. Starting NOW. (might also be the hydrocodone)

The First Night in Stanley

We made our bed out of backpacking mattresses and sleeping bags, like true middle-class vagabonds. The Williams family cooler multitasks as the kitchen dinette set, coffee table and extra seating, and our apartment door is the only one in the complex that has mini Basque flags strung across the eaves leading into the kitchen/living room.

Most people here are missing teeth and I can’t really figure out why. I always pictured Stanley, Sawtooth City, and all those little places to be filled with people like us—city folk who yearn for peaks and hikes, and don’t mind schmozzing rich people to do it. But I guess we are oinly the summer crowd. The real winter-overs, the people who comprise the 100-person demographic of Stanley, stick around teven during the times when all there is to do is drink. At least during the summer, you can boat while you drink. So, hats off to the toothless, I say.