NOTE: this will likely be the first post you see because I’ve had some problems posting, and thus have a backlog of entries. Accordingly, I suggest you begin by scrolling down to my first post, “Before I get too Crazy..." in order to understand my experience chronologically. Or you can read it backwards and just pretend it’s a Quentin Terrentino movie. Sorry for the inconvenience. In the future, I'll only be posting once every week or two, so don't get too overwhelmed, you can pace yourself on these first few.
After my somewhat negative first experience in Auckland city, I was weary about traveling back in. Like I’ve said before, I’m really finding this monastery lifestyle (though not a monastic lifestyle for me) both beautiful and satisfying, and at times almost fear the saturated sensory experience that I once called “normal life.” Though these things were sitting heavy on my mind, I had heard about a reddit.com meet-up in Auckland some weeks earlier and had my mind set on it. If you’ve never heard of Reddit, similar to digg.com, it’s an online news and social media site that encourages its users to share links and comments. It’s like a “what’s hot online” forum and it’s used worldwide. Did you hear about that Colbert/Stewart Rally to Restore Fear/Sanity? That was Reddit’s brainchild, put in motion by Colbert. We can be a pretty powerful community when we’re not talking about online comics. Coincidentally, r/newzealand (NZ subreddit) had planned a meet-up for early November, perfect timing for me to meet some like-minded internet geek Kiwis. Ignoring the larger half of my conscience screaming “Don’t go back to the city!,” I went and checked myself into a hostel. I stayed in the more “artsy” part of inner city (though it’s so small, no neighborhood is really separate from another) on what’s known as K Road and headed to the meeting place. Thankfully, the bar chosen for the meet-up was in the opposite direction of where I had been the week before, so I felt there was hope for a better experience. I arrived to find about 20 fellow Redditors and only one laptop; a surprisingly large group with a very surprising absence of internet feed (it’s like a drug, man), and more surprising yet, everybody was pretty normal! I mean, granted we’re all geeks for taking time out of our lives to meet other anons in real life, but there were no, shall we say, uber-geeks. There was a nice mix of Kiwis, travelers, and permanent residents (like a citizen with fewer privileges), so I was able to get a lot of great info about the local scene, the travel scene, and young-adult Kiwi life in general. I was the only guy from the States, and more importantly, from California, since Reddit “headquarters” are based in SF (I’ve never seen it, I guess it’s just an office with like 5 dudes running the show. It’s a user-based site, so the big cheeses are really only involved in ensuring smooth site operations). I was asked a lot of questions about American and Californian life and politics, particularly because the meet-up was just a few days after the mid-term elections and Reddit had been chucked full of political posts. Many random questions were asked, but I also asked a few good questions and wound up exchanging contacts with a few different travelers and locals. As the group began dispersing, I was invited to grab some food with a few cool cats, so I tagged along. These guys were all really into music, skateboarding, being outside, and doing adventurous things, so we got on well. Subsequently, I was invited up to a gathering at one of the guys’ house. They liked me, they really liked me; I was so pumped, I almost couldn’t keep my cool.
At the house I met about 20 new people, all of whoms’ names I forgot almost immediately. Thankfully, I remembered my Reddit buddies, so I was in the clear. Everybody was really nice and had a million questions about California… I felt like some sort of American Guru. I warned them not to take my word on anything about American culture because my individual American experience is different than yours and your neighbor’s, but I think they were happy to just take me at my word on most things. After the initial interrogation, it was crazy how comfortable I felt at the gathering; the group had all been friends since high school, and they reminded me so much of my close friend group from high school. Not that they replaced you guys, I MISS YOU ALL!, but it was just nice to be back in that sort of environment with musicians, inside jokes, good times and good people. While the whole night was a blast, by far the best part was when we were all sitting outside on the deck. I had been offered a chair, which was nice, but the sitting surface of the chair was like rubber bands, so they kept stretching out and allowing me to slide through. As I struggled to stay afloat, I noticed the back of the chair was a cool design, but just terribly unfunctional as a back support. It had no surface where I needed it, but instead had gangly awkward bars jabbing me in the spine and across the ribcage. It was ridiculous. I thought it was some kind of weird new age massage device, but I wasn’t old enough or tense enough to actually enjoy the massage. I wasn’t going to make a big deal about it though, I was a guest in this house and desperately wanted these people to enjoy my company. As I quietly squirmed about, climbing out of the quicksand seat and trying to find the best way to take full advantage of this devious massage, I noticed another guy stuck in the same quagmire. I quietly mentioned, “Hey, what’s up with this seat? It’s really uncomfortable, right?” Unfortunately, a handful of other people heard me too. The response came swiftly and confidently: “Well yeah man… It’s the height of New Zealand art and culture to sit in uncomfortable chairs. We do it at parties, and it’s representative of a man’s worth and masculinity if he can endure the discomfort without squirming. If you wiggle too much, you’re perceived as effeminate and uncultured.” My face dropped deadpan as I contemplated this barbaric social construct and form of art; interestingly, we generally sit on the floor at the monastery, which is pretty uncomfortable for a normal chair user, so it was all beginning to make sense. Then everybody started busting up laughing. “I’m just kidding man, if that was the truth, I would have suggested you leave New Zealand immediately. Actually, those chairs came with cushions, but they’re in the garage right now. Let me get you one.” I was relieved and deeply humored, and when the cushion came, it was luxurious comfort. They make some quality cushions out here.
While I was happy to make some new friends and contacts and plan to hang out with them again, I still spend almost all of my time on the monastery. Along with wild rabbits, opossums (of the cute Australian variety, not the American giant-rat-opossum), dozens of different birds, and millions of different spiders, there is a rat colony who has taken up residence on the property. They live conveniently next to the compost pile, which isn’t as much a compost pile as it is a rat welfare distribution center: food has no time to compost before it is consumed. I usually take up the responsibility of delivering the compost to the bin, and recently have begun really enjoying spending time with the rats. They’re not all scraggly and vicious like the American street rat, and are actually rather cute and playful. I figure this is because they get fed daily by fresh, vegetarian, mostly organic food without having to fight for it. They’re pretty happy beings. Anyway, I’ve grown close to these rats, I think they’ve learned my scent and know food is coming, so they come out to say hello. I tell them secrets, I watch their family dramas unfold, I oversee their well-being and make sure their garbage-food is well balanced and free of toxins. Unfortunately for the rats and me alike, the purpose of the compost bin is to create compost, not support a rat colony. Furthermore, with such good, consistent food, the monastery is bound to have a rat infestation in no time… then they won’t be so cute.
So I had to cover the compost bin’s holes with chicken wire so they no longer have access. It kinda killed me inside, just a bit. After the meal, I took the food down and found the rats in a state of emergency. All of them were out, scurrying around, clawing at the chicken wire, looking for a way in or a new food source. I dumped the food and sat to observe my four-pawed-confidants. They had figured out well enough that they couldn’t get in and weren’t even trying any more. They were anxiously, aimlessly running between holes on their grassy terrace. I saw four fights go down; I’d never seen any of them fight before. The whole scene was just tense and everybody was on edge. It was hard to watch; this is why the Buddha teaches to remain unattached from all, as all is impermanent and attachment only leads to suffering. I dumped the food again the next day to find only two rats say hello. All I can hope is that they’ve found a brighter compost pile in some other pasture; I really, really hope they didn’t move on up to the kitchen, because then I got a serious problem on my hands.
I have a new set of pictures, but haven't uploaded them yet... so check back in a week or two for more of the good stuff.
No comments:
Post a Comment