Two Week Trench

It’s been nearly two weeks since I said goodbye to my family.  Flipping endlessly through photographs of our trip makes me ache for them.  It was an adventure full of beaming smiles, ecstatic laughter, embarrassing moments and inside jokes, but it was also filled with snide remarks, hurt feelings and tears.  I am a believer that these ‘bad’ moments are what make the ‘good’ all the better and furthermore, make the relationships true and honest and real.  I haven’t had that kind of interaction in nearly two weeks. 

I miss reality.  So much has happened that doesn’t matter in the bigger scheme of things, is something you’d expect to see on a horrible reality TV show broadcast through too many teenagers’ television sets.  There are so many people I’ve met that know only this type of living.  Some of the stories you wouldn’t believe if I told them to you…

On my family’s last night in Dunedin, we ran into a young woman that we had given a ride to in Tongariro National Park.  Rahel is a very attractive and petite 22 year-old from Austria traveling with a 25 year-old fun-loving soon-to-be law student from Chicago.  I invited them to come crash on our couches for as long as they needed.  Let’s just say that with them in the mix, five of us already moved into the flat, and our neighbors always over for pre-gaming activities, every morning seemed to be a battle against empty cans and glass bottles and the sucking slime of spilled drinks.  In the beginning it was fun, but I quickly became tired of evacuating the room for the endless make out sessions and sleep-overs between our visitors and new neighbors, the overly-intoxicated banter, and the gentle rejections I had to keep giving Rahel when she’d venture into my room late at night smelling of cigarettes soaked in whiskey in pursuance of a kiss from her crush.  Moreover, the girls never did anything during the day but sit in our living room reminiscing of the passed night’s antics and revving up for the next round to roll around at 7pm.  It was fun but I can’t say I was sad to see them go.

And just when I thought it was all over, my Kiwi host (native New Zealander flatting with us) had his girlfriend and her friend down from Auckland to visit.  Don’t get me wrong, in the beginning they were both very pleasant and nice girls, but from them I quickly learned what the Kiwi uni female is all about.  Competitive fashion.  Superficial priorities.  Self inflated ego.  Mike’s girlfriend continued to be as nice as possible but her friend’s nose began to turn upwards more and more every day.  She became terse in her comments, pushy, whiny, and complaining.  We weren’t good enough for her and she let us know it.  But I kept trying.  I wasn’t going to be the person that made Mike’s guests feel uncomfortable on purpose, as he is such a nice guy (though he does spend more time on his hair than I do and only goes for girls because they’re, and I quote, “hot”).  But he spends a lot of time with us, gave me a personal tour around town when I first arrived, and is always helpful.  I could suck up my pride and honesty for him. 

But sometimes when you can’t be honest and you can’t be cruel you just have to bolt.  On their last night in town, I got stuck with the friend (who had acquired a new commanding tone to her voice) and couldn’t keep saying no to her demands without seriously considering punching her in the face or, at the least, telling her to go (expletives) herself.  So I left. 

And it has started a downward spiraling trend from there.  I bail.  When I see reality slipping away from me, feel suffocated by the intoxicants of shallow lifestyles, or I am just downright scared of myself, my feelings, or at being too uncomfortable I disappear.  It’s not a good habit to take up and it’s not making me grow as a person or make lasting friendships- at least I don’t think so.  It’s creating a gorge between myself and those around me.  Bailing from one nightclub to go into the next and meet strangers is fun, yes, and I am meeting people from all over the world, but those relationships are just as shallow and impermanent as the ones I escaped. 

In the first couple of nights I was on my own in Dunedin I met a young man through my Kiwi host.  He is very nice, very smart, and very tall, maybe even too tall.  (I’m under the belief that any guy over six feet is doing a disservice to tall girls by dating short ones and that any short girls dating tall guys are being cruel to short guys.  They just shouldn’t do it on the grounds that it’s unfair to others.)  Kiwis don’t date, but he has taken me out on numerous occasions.  He has gotten creative with meals, museums, gardens, hikes, art galleries, and the butterfly pavilion.  He is every girls’ dream but I have said ‘no thank you’ far more than once, and not always nicely.  He must be a glutton for punishment because he still keeps coming back.  The problem is that I keep agreeing to these activities because I enjoy his company, his sense of humor, his intelligence, and his listening skills, which are all such a fresh breath of air in a place where I’ve met too few like him.  (It’s also a perfect example of honest communication going unheard.)

This is a perfect example of some of the good people I have met.  I have also met a fun-loving Finnish girl and her Harvard flat mate, both of which are very down to earth and love to be outside, a 29 year-old environmental tourism graduate student and his girlfriend (also from the States) and a very sweet Canadian girl who is seeking her degree in environmental sciences and laughs at all my jokes (always a plus).  Notice a trend?  Only one of the people I mentioned is a Kiwi.  I came here to experience and learn about New Zealand, but more and more I find that I am attracted to people who love to travel and know about the world and that is just not most Kiwis.  The only other unfortunate thing is that I connect with one or two people, not their whole group.  It makes it difficult to feel like I ‘belong.’  Don’t get me wrong, I’m very good at being independent but with everything else that’s going on it’d be nice to sit down with a group and relax.  (I can’t get that at home for reasons I’ll explain in my next post.)  Oh, c’est la vie. 

I understand the implications of culture shock; the symptoms and rollercoaster ride of emotions it takes us on.  I’ve experienced culture shock and this isn’t it.  The culture is different, yes, but the people are people.  What I am experiencing is what I’d like to call “new student shock.”  It has nothing to do with culture, but simply the sometimes grueling and tedious search for like-minded friends.  I’m trying to stay positive and hopeful, as I have found a few promising outlets, but it took me the good part of a year to truly establish my friend base at DU, and even that has changed and evolved since freshman year.  I just hope that my experiences have made me more efficient in finding true friendships rather than pickier, as I would like to make friendships in the next three months that I can carry with me far into the future.

So here I sit, nearly two weeks after my family departed for home, flipping through pictures of our time together.  These pictures lead me to other folders entitled “Evergreen 2009” and “DU Halloween 2010.”  Pictures of the people and the places that I’ve cultivated long lasting and meaningful relationships with flash across the screen beckoning me home.  I miss them terribly.  I’ve been gone six months.  These last two weeks, in conjunction with revealing to me much of what I value in friendships and who I spend my time with, have also made me realize that I’m ready to come home.  I guess it’s time to put away these pictures and start applying for internships that will let me enjoy the Rocky Mountains, my dearest friends, and the ups and downs of family dynamics when my time here has finished.