Te Whanga-nui-a-Tara

Goodbye Pork Pie

2009-03-31T21:11:00.000-07:00

Well, it's hard to believe, but our six months is up. We've handed in our keys and badges at the hospital, and the farewell teas, parties and prayers are done. We are staying at the Museum Hotel our last night here. Our balcony looks out over our familiar friends--Te Papa and the the harbor. We recognized the Indian cricketers in the lobby this morning, something we wouldn't have been able to do on arrival. We are changed, indeed.

And so let the last blog photo echo the first: girl and harbor . . . Te Whanga-nui-a-Kristen.

Peace, and much love, to all who have come along.

Paraparaumu

2009-03-31T16:25:00.000-07:00

We spent our last two weeks in NZ living in a little beach house in Paraparaumu (50km north of Wellington), and have very much enjoyed the beautiful sunsets over Kapiti Island. In a November 2008 post, we described our trip to this magical island sanctuary.

When the tide goes out, we wade into the surf to feel out cockles (and the occasional irritated crab!) with our feet. These delicately-flavored bivalves make a fine feed when steamed in white wine and butter.

Fiordlands, Aspiring and More

2009-03-24T21:14:00.000-07:00

Water, rock, forest and sky. These elements, arrayed on an imposing scale, compose the Southern Fjords. Men are only visitors here. Carved by glaciers, the water is as deep as the mountains are high. Both extremes are cold, but the black depths are spared the gales and pummeling rains. The granite here allows no roots to penetrate, so the trees must find purchase upon the mosses that cling directly to the slopes. When the rain falls after a dry spell, this grip is undermined, and great swaths of forest slide into the depths. In time, perhaps one hundred lifetimes, they return.

We landed in Queenstown before heading south and westward. Below is a view of the Remarkables (etched in cloud, middle-left) and Lake Wakatipu from Ben Lomond Mountain.

And here is a video of us at the summit.

Onward then to Lake Manapouri and Deep Cove, where we boarded the Breaksea Girl. Here is she is moored in Pickersgill's Harbour as seen from Crayfish Island, where Captain Cook spent the better part of 1773.

While the scene is tranquil, we endured roiling seas from Doubtful Sound to the Acheron Passage before tucking into the relative calm of Dusky Sound. Even here, a nor'wester blew at 50 knots all night before the weather settled. Given the conditions, further ocean passage down to Preservation Inlet was abandoned in favor of a deeper and more liesurely exploration of Dusky and Doubtful Sounds.

The two pictures immediately below depict the same view of Cascade Cove at sunset then again at sunrise the following morning. This is as good an example as any of the protean "moods" of the Fjords.

On the fourth day of the voyage, heavy rains fell (the night before, the first fall snow had dusted the mountain peaks). This change in the weather transformed the landscape yet again, as innumerable waterfalls carried the day's rains back to the sea.

The day prior, we had navigated into a massive flock of sooty shearwater (or "muttonbirds") feeding-- an exceedingly rare sight captured on film below.

After our land-legs had retuned, we headed up into the heart of Central Otago, using Wanaka as our base to explore Mount Aspiring National Park. On the advice of a friend, we booked a fly-walk-jetboat combination called the Siberia Experience. Here's some footage of the last couple minutes of the flight, as our cessna 180 hairpins back into the Siberia Valley for a landing.

Here's a picture taken at the end of the hike as we prepare to board our jet boat.

And finally, for good measure, a panorama of the Rob Roy glacier.

Farewells and fond memories

2009-02-21T18:28:00.000-08:00

This has been a bittersweet weekend, as our farewell to Patrick--who returns to Minneapolis after 10 weeks in NZ-- reminds us how lucky we are to have this place and these people as part of our lives. We are winding down work here ourselves and preparing for an 8 day sail along the fjords and a week of other adventures in the South Island. We had a skype chat with our future colleagues at Regions on Saturday, and are eager to begin work there (we're coming, Tracy!).

On Saturday night we visited Rosie and Rob's farm in the hills above Plimmerton. After a memorable evening last night (well, I don't remember the last part, but that's another story), we hiked along the coastal mountain pastures with the whole family this morning. Their children are very sweet, and shared their horses with us to ease the uphill climb. As we reached the ridge, a strong Norwester whipped the waves into whitecaps below and nearly blew us over a couple of times, but we made it alright. We're back home at Mahina Bay awaiting the sunset and feeling very, very blessed, indeed. Kia ora!

Mahina Bay

2009-02-13T23:06:00.001-08:00

As summer winds down, we've decided to shift from the city to the other side of the harbour, and are now staying in a little cottage at Mahina Bay. We now take the ferry into town, which is (for a while at least), a fun and scenic 25 minute commute. Here's the view from our window this morning:

Actually, the weather has been pretty dismally rainy the last week, so today was also the first day we had the opportunity to explore the reserve that is literally in our back yard. The forest is remarkably intact, with many old podocarps, beech, matai, tree ferns and fruit-bearing karaka, in addition to the ubiquitous manuka and kanuka. There is also an abundance of bird life, and we awake each morning to a chorus of tui, bellbirds and morepork. We think we've even heard the call of the rare saddleback. Here's a view from the trail, again looking back over the harbour. That's Soames island at right, and the city (white area) at left. If you open up the picture, you can see a sailing regatta at left in front of the city, and at bottom-center, the little dock where we catch to 7:15 ferry to the city.

Abel Tasman-Separation Point to Awaroa Bay

2009-02-10T23:07:00.003-08:00

Bush, beach and no roads between. The Abel Tasman lies along the west coast of Tasman Bay. To the East lie the Marlborough Sounds (see the Queen Charlotte track post from early December), and to the West, Golden Bay, Farewell Spit and the sea. Very few people live here, but many Kiwis (and others) visit here to imagine Aotearoa's paradise regained.

Dolphins and rays follow the tides into the coves, while the eels and wading birds ply the tidal marshes. At night, glow worms light up the little grottos created by winding streams and the Southern Cross rises above the hills as the din of cicadas fades.

We chartered a single engine cessna to make the jump from Wellington to a little grass airstrip at Awaroa Bay. Below is aerial footage taken just prior to landing, followed by a 360 degree view of the tidal flat (at low tide) adjacent to the bay. That's a bellbird singing in the background.

Dunedin and the Otago Peninsula

2009-01-31T23:01:00.000-08:00

For a city of 125,000 souls (1/5th of them students), Dunedin has a bustling-- and distinctly Scottish-- feel. The very name is Gaelic for Edinburgh, the streets bear Scottish names and the obligatory statue of Robert Burns graces the city centre. The elegant old home at left, called Corstorphine House, is another landmark of this heritage, and perhaps the most gracious lodging we have enjoyed during our travels throughout New Zealand.

Of the many things we could have done with a few hours in the city, we chose perhaps the most touristy, climbing up Baldwin Street, touted as the worlds steepest. To be fair, we also sampled some very fine beers, including an Emerson's London Porter (served from a hand pump!) that was pure magic.

As if that weren't sufficiently lowbrow, we also visited the rail depot (supposedly NZ's most photographed structure) and the very kitschy Chinese Garden.

If our tour of the city was a bit ridiculous, what we found on the nearby Otago Peninsula was nothing short of sublime. We arranged a private full-day tour, and Brian, our guide, provided us with a truly amazing experience. After bird watching along the coastal marshes, we came to Tairoa Head, where a small breeding colony of Royal Albatross have settled. These are truly massive birds, and particularly awe-inspiring in full glide upon the swirling winds. Here also are royal spoonbill, kingfishers, spur-winged plover, gray teal, spotted and Stewart Island shag and white faced heron, among others.

After Tairoa Head, we moved to an even more remote area, where the beaches are shared by two of the most rare animals on earth: Hooker's sea lion and the yellow-eyed penguin. Amazingly, you can walk right up to them, as they have no natural fear of humans. We saw an adult bull male de-glove a barracuda in the cliffside water, slamming it back and forth on the water with vigorous shakes from its massive neck. This juvenile below seemed more interested in napping than hunting--good news for the people and penguins on the beach.
Although we saw several yellow-eyes (including chicks) on the beach and adjacent dune, this lone male had segregated himself to heal a nasty gash on his right fin. Luckily, these fellows are as tough as old leather, and can haul out for weeks without food if need be in order to recuperate. He doesn't look too worried, and we did him the small favor of photographing his good side.

Wellington from the air

2009-01-23T19:25:00.000-08:00

After a splendid open-air concert last night at the Botanical Gardens bandshell, we awoke (late) this morning to another glorious summer day. Unfortunately, I've been limited by an ankle sprain, so we headed down to the harbor to view the DaVinci Machines exhibit at the City Museum. Afterwards, we joined up with Patrick for a bloody mary and lunch. In danger of falling into a postprandial torpor, we were suddenly struck with the inspiration to take a helicopter tour around the peninsula.

This is the view of Central Wellington as we lifted off. We live just across from the triangular building to the bottom-right of center.

Here's a view from the air of Oriental Parade and Lyall Bay. In the background is the far shore of Wellington Harbor. We'll be moving over there in February and taking the ferry into the city for work (which as commutes go, seems pretty cool).

Houses quickly give way to hills, and just beyond these, the South Shore and Tasman Sea. As we flew over, we saw wild goats scrambling through the gourse and the giant hulls and blades of wind turbines waiting in piles to be erected. Speaking of wind, it seemed we were getting tossed around quite a bit. Cam, our pilot, commented that the winds along the shoreline "spin like a washing machine". He didn't seem too worried, but we were definitely hoping to avoid the spin cycle.

On the other side of the hills, we sat down at Tongue Point, a remote stretch of rocks between Owhiro Bay and Makara Beach. Here we saw a few male fur seals, early dropouts from the mating season, lounging on the beach. We then squeezed back into the chopper and swung south along the shoreline, passing just over Patrick's studio en route back to the city.

Kaikoura- Tiaki the whale

2009-01-18T21:40:00.000-08:00

Kaikoura is really nothing more than a small spit of land along the remote West coast of the South Island. The dramatic Kaikoura Range to the Northwest and the Pacific to the East frame the low, grassy hills and rocky beaches. The coastal shelf falls off steeply just offshore, and it is along this shelf that cold Antarctic currents meet the warmer flows from Fiji. These currents teem with sea life, and act as highways for many species of whales, including orcas, humpbacks, blue, sperm and southern right whales. A "bachelor pod" of sperm whales has taken residence here, and this makes Kaikoura one of the most reliable whale spotting locations on the planet.

Our tour was the first of the morning, and was met with cloudy skies and cold drizzle. As we searched for the pod, we crossed paths with many albatrosses, terns and petrels-- the long-distance vagabonds of the cold southern oceans. After a couple of near-misses, we located Tiaki, a massively built sperm bull whose name means "guardian" in Maori (he has been observed protecting calves from orca attacks). He is fully 18+ meters long and allowed us to sidle up next to him for several minutes before nosing down, turning up his massive tail and powering into the depths. We saw two other whales, but these were only brief encounters.

We spent the rest of the day hiking around the peninsula. To one side, the shore, where hundreds upon hundreds of fur seals laze about on the rocks and vast multitudes of seabirds ride the updrafts along the coastal cliffs. To the other side, gentle hills covered with golden grasses and colorful goldfinches flitting from thistle to thistle. As we returned to our little beach-side B&B, a rainbow appeared.

Te Kaha

2009-01-06T21:20:00.000-08:00

After welcoming in the New Year with a discreet kiss in front of 10,000 of our neighbors at the Civic Square, we hit the road for "the BOP". The sweeping coastline of the Bay of Plenty begins an hour's drive east of Auckland and extends over 200 km to the remote reaches of the East Cape, where the dramatic bush and ocean vistas are broken only by the occasional beach village. Te Kaha is one of these. Given the location, our hotel was quite flash; in fact, the decor was eerily similar to our Welly flat. Unfortunately, rain, holiday traffic, and the winding, shoulder-less roads rendered our planned bike trek impracticable. In a way, it was a relief to just bike up to the cafe a couple of km away, enjoy a leisurely brekkie, then lounge the day away listening to the waves, birds and breeze. The tropical pace was a welcome respite from the rush of work, and Te Kaha is one of those places in the world that makes slowing down seem both necessary and good. So we kicked back, sampled the amazing chardonnays of the region, and enjoyed the company of our good friend Patrick, another Minnesotan wisely spending a few months escaping the frozen tundra. Unfortunately, we were so laid back that we forgot to take any pictures of this spectacular region.

On a whim, we drove to NZ's easternmost point, where (surprize!) there's a lighthouse on top of a windswept hill. Climbing the 750 steps up was the easy part, at least compared to the harrowing drive to and fro along a single-lane of cliffside gravel road with seemingly innumerable blind curves. We also took time to comb the beaches, the quiet focus of which always feels so much like a kind of meditation.

Number Five Happy Valley Road, Owhiro Bay

2008-12-27T22:44:00.000-08:00

Owhiro Bay is a tiny community along the rugged South Shore. Although it is just minutes from the city, it has a remote feel. Our friend, Patrick, has found a studio space here and invited us over for a painting experience. In his extensive beach-combing, Patrick has collected an array of bones, shells, plant life and other organic materials to inform his work. On this day, however, our inspiration was one of Marlborough's fine Sauvignon Blancs, "Gravitas".

Cat and Vasha joined us, and Patrick graciously ran us through a crash course in "painting 101" before unleashing us on the canvas.

I've never painted before, and was surprised at how utterly engrossing a process it is.

In the end, we all had a great time. For those interested in learning more about Patrick's amazing work, here's his website: http://patrickpryor.com/

Tongariro Crossing

2008-12-27T21:03:00.000-08:00

Why is this woman smiling? First, because she has conquered the mountain behind her (Ngauruhoe, 2287m), and second, because she has no idea of the further rigors that lay ahead. As far as first summits go, scrambling up the steep and trackless volcanic scree of 'Mt Doom" is certainly a bold, if less than ideal, choice. Goodonyeh, mate!

It takes very little imagination to envision Mordor in the this harsh landscape (is that an Orc lurking in the background?)

Here's the view from the summit of Ngauruhoe, high above the clouds. To get some idea of the scale, click on the photo to enlarge and follow along: the mountain lake (Blue Lake) at the center of the photo is over a kilometer across and nearly ten kilometers away. The flat top of Mount Tongariro (1967m) can also be seen edging through the clouds at far left. Although it appears to be in the same plane as the lake, it is actually mid way between.

As the sun rose the following morning, Kristen captured this pic of snow-capped Ruapehu (2797m, at right) and Ngauruhoe (far left) from outside our chalet.

The reason Ngauruhoe is not also snow covered is that it is an active volcano, and erupts on average every decade or so (last in 1975, so we are well overdue). At the summit, the biting winds are from the ascent are tempered by abundant thermal venting.

The Tongariro Crossing (19.4km) is widely regarded as the best one day hike in New Zealand. It is certainly one of the most challenging (and most popular). Hopefully, our legs will recover in time for next week's bike trek along the Eastern reach of the Bay of Plenty.

Merry Christmas

2008-12-21T00:08:00.001-08:00

As the mercury drops, then freezes, back in Minnesota, stints of mild summery weather begin to outnumber the periods of bluster rolling off the Tasman Sea. After a period of relative silence, we've also begun to see comments from a few of you back home. Perhaps it's the season, perhaps the weather-- and longing to be far away in warmer places (believe me, we understand!). Whatever the case, we welcome any and all comments, and read them all avidly and with great fondness.

Pictured above, the pohutukawa tree is New Zealand's "Christmas Tree", as its showy red flowers appear in early December. The tree itself is hardy, medicinal and low maintenance. What's not to like.

With this entry, we would like to wish all of our dear friends and family Happy Holidays. It is our great blessing to have you in our lives, and we look forward to sitting with you in warm places (indoors or out) to share good stories and good times.

much love,

K&R

Pencarrow Point Lighthouse

2008-12-17T23:13:00.000-08:00

Queen Charlotte Track

2008-12-08T01:24:00.000-08:00

The Marlborough Sounds lie along the ragged northeastern edge of the South Island, where finger-like spits of green hills alternate with deep blue channels. Our 75 kilometer walk began at Ship's Cove (above), Captain James Cook's harbour of choice when navigating the strait that now bears his name. In an earlier post, I alluded to Cook's description of birdsong bursting from the shores; it is quite possible that this observation was made at this very point nearly 250 years ago.

The journey from Cook's point to the (very) small town of Anakiwa takes four days on foot. While the journey is physically rigorous, it is by no means "roughing it", as each day's tramping is rewarded with comfortable accommodation and fine dining at a series of small lodges wedged between the bush and rocky beaches.

The views from 500 metres up are worth the effort, as if we needed another reminder of the exquisite beauty that can be wrought from a simple palette of green, blue and white. One feature we had not seen on the North Island were the beech forests, which grow tall and quiet on poor hillside soils, littering the forest floor with dappled light and a carpet of small oval leaves sporting autumnal hues. Mosses grow thickly in the shade, muffling sound and lending a faerie quality to the canopy. Here also are old Rimu, massive and hard as stone, and Rewarewa with whimsical brushes of red flowers.

Red Rocks

2008-11-22T16:28:00.000-08:00

If you look at a map of New Zealand (or Google Earth), you'll note a rather large uninhabited area west of Wellington. As part of our "training" for an upcoming 71 km hike along the Queen Charlotte Sound, we've spent the last couple of weeks exploring this area, and Red Rocks was this weeks installment. The coast is rugged, and in the Winter (May-Sept) is a "haul-out" for male fur seals who've finished second (or worse) in the late fall mating battles. Among the masses of bull kelp, we did see a single male twisting idly through the rocky shallows. Was he too old or infirm to return to the Southern waters, or just a confirmed bachelor?

In a moment of folly, we elected to take the mountain route back to Island Bay. So, 500 meters up we went, into the 70 km gusts that seemed almost sentient in their will to impede our upward progress. If we keep this up, we'll soon have legs of iron.

In other news, we had our first visitor (Ted, K's friend from SF), we celebrated the arrival of the Beaujolais Nouveau and the Kiwis won the Rugby League World Cup.

Karori, Turbines in Brooklyn, Santa Day Parade

2008-11-16T21:31:00.000-08:00

Well, for some reason our internet server has slowed to a crawl for the past couple of weeks, making it essentially impossible to post pictures (a mercy, perhaps). As we are now fully settled into work, we've opted to take a couple of weekends to explore our near environs. Saturday was supposed to be the pick of the weekend days. As NZ weather forecasts are little better than educated guesses, we shouldn't have been surprised when we awoke to an overcast, windy day.

By the time noon rolled around, we figured it wasn't going to clear, but decided to head up to the karori reserve for a look around anyway. Amazingly, it's a 7 minute bus ride from our front door up to the forested hills that comprise this unique urban bird sanctuary. While it is not exceptionally scenic when compared to "pristine" bush, it does provide a protected space for rare (and not so rare) birds to breed, nest and feed. As a result, the tui, bellbird and other "natives" are almost as familiar to Wellingtonians as pigeons, house sparrows and blackbirds (remember, there are no squirrels here). Also, the tuatara-a rare prehistoric lizard--was discovered at karori a few years ago, and are now bred here. You'll have to trust me when I say we saw one; either that, or I'll e-mail you the pic.

After karori, we elected to take the "scenic" route home, which took us for several miles up a steep ridge overlooking the city, and ultimately to the wind turbine perched above the Brooklyn neighborhood (fuhgeddaboudit). Fun fact: NZ is actually on track to provide 80% of its energy from domestic renewable sources by 2025. On the looooong way up, we saw a tree weta--which is an insect about the size of a man's middle finger--devouring a juicy spider (also not pictured). Also seen were a few very intrepid mountain bikers and some truly insane runners. On the way down, a herd of elephants could have strolled by and we wouldn't have cared, we were so exhausted.

For some strange reason, we went to the gym the next (gloriously sunny) day. It is located in a converted loft space, with several large windows and a juliet balcony overlooking Lambton Quay, down which the Santa's Day parade marched, an eclectic and culturally diverse celebration of the things we all associate with Christmas-- beach weather, long days, bollywood movies and Scottish marching bands.

41 below

2008-11-14T11:36:00.001-08:00

At the summit of the small hill on the northern end of Kapiti Island, this stone arch juts westward into the Tasman Sea. Beautiful, yes, like so much of the land, but also personally significant to me. During my last year in Charleston--one of the most difficult times of my life--I googled "New Zealand", mainly because it was the farthest place in the world from where I was then. The first image was a stone arch stretching out into the sea. I put that image on my desktop, and used to imagine myself there on the darkest days. Coming over the ridge and looking down at this--actually being "there"--was (and is) a reminder of how far we have come since then.

The Language of birds- Kapiti island/ Rangatira

2008-11-08T21:09:00.000-08:00

Considering the language of birds

I have formed no voice to mar the wind

for the kiwi calls through night's traverse

and the tui chants boon to day's end

Prior to the arrival of man, New Zealand was God's own aviary. From the forest floor, where tiny, flightless songbirds trolled the soil to the skies above the canopy, where massive eagles hunted stout-legged moa the size of three men-- every ecological niche was dominated by birds. Although Maori hunters and the Pacific rat had exacted a great toll on this diversity by 1773, Captain James Cook describes crescendos of birdsong that could be easily heard from anchorage offshore. The plow--as well as the Norway rat, possum and stoat--have largely finished the job that started a nearly millennium ago, and so Aotearoa is now a land of sheep and men. So many things are lost that will never return to this world.

Offshore islands such as Kapiti proved the last refuge for the few survivors, while those who could not fly rely upon the kind-hearted among men to bring them here. And here they thrive. So no pictures this time, but rather sounds. Nowhere else on earth will you hear this concert. Starting with the ballistic "stitch" of the hihi and the squawk of the kaka, then to the urgent trill of the saddleback and cry of the weka. Finally, the chattering of kakariki and the polyphony of the tui. Click the link below to play "kapiti songs". Enjoy.

VISIT

splakespolt

Not To Be Too Political, But...

2008-11-05T01:26:00.000-08:00

OBAMA WINS!!!!!!! HURRAH!!!!!!!

King Country

2008-10-31T22:50:00.001-07:00

The central west coastal areas to the north of Mt Taranaki are referred to as the "King Country". After a brief mid-19th Century movement to resist the European settlers in the land wars, the Maori king withdrew southward to this region. Although hostilities ended long ago and the king (actually a queen) is now largely symbolic, this is an area that takes preservation of Maori stewardship seriously. The caves of the Waitomo district, although managed by the state, have been returned to the descendants of those who revered them as sacred places for centuries. These are the famous "glow worm" caves. The Maori word for glow-worm translates to "stars over water", and this is an apt description. The pictures below are all taken from this magnificent region, which stretches from mountains to the Tasman sea.

In Marokopa (below), we observed dozens of intrepid locals wading through the incoming tide to net some "whitebait", which refers to the juvenile of several species of coastal fish that are about an inch long, translucent and quite a delicacy here. They cost over $100 NZ a kilo, and are served in omelettes, "fritters" and other styles. It is illegal to harvest them commercially, so thousands of Kiwis (the people, not the birds) patrol the coastal inlets and estuaries during the season, which lasts from August to November. The sand is ash-black.

Between Waitomo caves and the cosat, we stopped at Marokopa Falls. Kristen took this amazing picture of the falls and mist-rainbow.

We probably take too many "bush" pics on our walks. Hey look, here's another one! (sorry)

Many places we visit, like the caves or Mangapohue Natural Bridge, are essentially impossible to photograph.

Te Whare O Matairangi (Ward 27, Wellington Hospital)

2008-10-28T22:20:00.000-07:00

Hi, Richard here. I'm working on the inpatient unit, and yes it's true they bring the voting machines to the unit and encourage all the inpatients vote. This is just one example of the inclusiveness of kiwi society. Another is the extent to which family (whanau), care managers and other supports participate in patient care. This means that I spend as much time meeting with these folks as I do with the patient. Notions of individualism and privacy are not as strong here as in the U.S. Rather, the expectation is that decisions are made collaboratively. Even the most psychotic patients are willing to sit for a "hui", and several such meetings may take place over the course of a hospitalization, which on average lasts over a month. This may seem exceptionally long, but all barriers to community care must be accounted for before patients can be taken "off the books", so to speak. This means that, in essence, the ward functions more like the "asylums" of old than a contemporary American unit, albeit with some distinctly kiwi twists. Patient's come and go on leave with family members, sometimes for days at a time, and are frequently granted periods of unescorted leave to take care of personal needs such as shopping and banking. Remarkably, almost no patient's go AWOL. On Fridays, there's a BBQ in the main courtyard, which is shared by family, staff and patients alike. Everyone uses first names only here, regardless of "rank", as status is a far less important concept here. Patients wander into the nurses station to ask for a smoke, tea or a snack; nobody bats an eye.

The unit itself is quite shabby, and antiquated by U.S. standards, but the staff are amazingly experienced, dedicated and competent. Moreover, all of the "scutwork"is done by a host of junior physicians under my direction. In essence, my job is to make decisions, guide treatment and to lead. The junior docs are avid for any teaching, and there is ample time for both formal and "on the fly" didactics. In addition to the care meetings that consume the better part of most afternoons, these is a morning team meeting. Wednesday mornings are occupied by peer supervision groups or presentations (followed, of course, by tea), court is held on Thursdays and we meet with the Clinical Director over a leisurely breakfast on Tuesdays. The commitment process here is somewhat byzantine, and does require formal "reports" to be submitted by the "responsible doctor". As with any former British colony, the government paperwork can be a bit silly, especially in the absence of any actual day-to-day medical documentation requirements. Overall, the pace is very laid back and I routinely find myself with stretches of free time on most days.

I guess the most important aspect of any labor is the gratification and enjoyment it provides the individual. By that standard, this is a very good job. I love going to work, genuinely like being there and could easily see myself doing it for a very, very long time.

New Zealand Psychiatry - Crisis Management

2008-10-21T20:44:00.001-07:00

It's Kristen, here. Here's a rundown of my job and the mental health climate in NZ from my perspective. I am on a Crisis Assessment and Treatment Team (CATT). The CAT Team provides a regional mental health service (so, covering from downtown Wellington to towns about 30-40km up the west coast). We are based in a town (Porirua) central to the overall catchment area. The team consists of two 9-5 / M-F team leaders / schedulers, two 9-5 / M-F doctors, and then the first line clinicians who are a mix of nurses and social workers who work in 12 hour shifts, two on and three off. The essential function of the team is to assess all patients in crisis (including children / adolescents) on a 24/7 basis, treat if needed, and then dispo them appropriately.

Referrals come in as self-referrals, from family members or friends, general practitioners (GPs), police, EDs, and sometimes from an inpatient medical ward. Referrals from family members are generally what you would imagine: "my 16 year old just left the house against my will with her boyfriend" and "my husband started drinking again and I don't know where he is" and "my friend has been getting more and more depressed and I think she might hurt herself." Routine stuff with routine advise given: call the police or go to the ED if an emergency, mobilze supports and problem solve otherwise. Referrals from police, ED, inpatient ward are generally more severe: many serious overdose attempts, for example. But, most of these folks get sent home with supports (i.e., NOT hospitalized). This is in marked contrast to the States, obviously. There is a huge emphasis on keeping people connected with their family / friends and not relying on institutions. (Interestingly, we see relatively few personality disorders. It's hard to tell if this is a function of the system -- few hospitalizations, reliance on social not institutional supports, separate personality disorders consult team -- or of the Kiwi personality which is very mild and modest).

There are several options for psychiatry support in the community as well. The CAT Team will follow folks for several weeks if needed -- calling at home to check on patients / families, going to get patients for appointments, etc. There is also a Home Based Treatment Team that serves as an alternative to hospitalization. They will see people daily (more if needed) in their home to assess. There are respite facilities which are homes in the community where up to four patients can stay for 3-4 nights while in crisis. These homes are staffed 24 / 7. And, there is an Acute Day Service which is like day treatment for people who are in crisis. So, as an alternative to hospitalization, someone might stay at a respite facility at night, go to an day service during the day, and be followed by Home Based Treatment.

So, what I do is assess folks with both the CAT Team and HBT Team for safety / disposition and medication management. I end up seeing folks all over town in all sorts of settings. Nothing too acute, generally, but certainly an interesting variety.

A note regarding commitment: The process is called the Mental Health Act here. Criteria are similar but terms run from 5 days for initial assessment then 14 days for continued evaluation then in 6 month increments from there. An interesting difference is that when someone is under the Mental Health Act they are mandated to get treatment which includes medications (i.e., there is no separate process for forced meds).

A note regarding medications: Lots of the same medications here (and, drug reps here as well), but some of the medications they don't have are Lexapro, Wellbutrin, Remeron, Librium. They do have an oral MAO inhibitor which is A selective meaning that you don't have to follow dietary restrictions.

That's about it for now. I'll let Richard describe the inpatient setting. I can't leave without saying this though: They came on the unit to have the patients vote, here. It nearly made be cry.

Palliser, Putangirua Pinnacles & Kaitoke

2008-10-11T22:00:00.000-07:00

A recurring sentiment: the limitation of words and images to convey experience. There is no tool to capture the sweet elusive scents of spring in the cool, deep bush; no way of following the rush of wind along the barren straits, softening over the land into a gentle accompaniment for Tui songs. Even memory degrades them. The best one can do is to tell stories. . .

And so we set out for the southeastern-most coast of the North Island. Martinborough, a quaint town gaining renown for its fine red wines, is gateway to this region. We arrived briefly at the old Martinborough Hotel to reserve a room and set aside our things, then headed down to Palliser Bay, where fur seals teem in the coastal waters. Spring means seal pups, and we counted many curled drowsily on the rocks or playing the the shallow, sheltered coves. Perched at the end of the road (literally) and atop 250 steep steps is the Palliser light house.

The view from the top is magnificent. The coastal road can be seen hugging the black, seal-laden beaches at right, an in the middle horizon the snow-capped peaks of the Kaikoura range on the South island are easily visible on a clear day (clicking on pictures will enlarge).

A few kilometers back up the road are the Putangirua Pinnacles, a sort of mini-badlands formed over millenia of erosion. For those who are fans of the Lord of the Rings films, this was the setting for the Dimwalt Road which Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas take to summon the dead army as Mordor's armies lay siege to Gondor (Return of the King). The gorge itself is quite difficult terrain, and nearly impossible to photograph with any sense of scale. In the movie, the camera reels up the pinnacles or is set above them looking down into the dry river bed.

On the way home, we stopped by Kaitoke Park, which in a sense is our "local" park, as it is less than an hour's drive from downtown Wellington. Kaitoke consists of thousands of hectares of pristine alpine bush, and is the watershed for the Hutt River, which provides half of the region's water. Kaitoke was the setting for Rivendell in the Fellowship of the Rings. We halfheartedly attempted a few photos, but none caught the feel of the place. Perhaps we will try again soon.

Word of the Day: Endemic

2008-10-04T23:44:00.001-07:00

Endemic: Exclusively native to a place.

Here's my (Kristen, here) recap so far: long trip, little bit of a snag with getting licensed here, but all is going well. Starting work tomorrow, inpatient wards for Richard (for at least three months) and crisis team for me.

The endemic (see above) people are really nice. The endemic food is really good too. It's like fresh, simple versions of food you know. With some lamb thrown in.

Lamb: not enedmic. But incredibly cute. It's spring here so they are everywhere in the hills. I will never eat one again.

We took this weekend to see a lot of endemic flora and fauna. The long-finned eel at the Mount Bruce National Preserve didn't make the cut in terms of upload time. But, below is the view from Mount Bruce. The hills are so green it does not seem real. It is totally impossible to duplicate in a picture.

This is the kaka, an endemic parrot in NZ. Also at the Mount Bruce Preserve. The kiwi bird was there as well in a special hut with reversed day / night cycle (they're nocturnal). We've seen tui, pukeko, and the New Zealand pigeon, too, all endemic.

After the Mount Bruce Preserve, we continued north to Hawke's Bay and Napier. The weather was decidedly more mild there and the region beautiful. Not exclusive to New Zealand but certainly abundant: earthquakes. Napier was leveled by one in 1931 and the resulting rebuilding took on an art deco flavor that is still there today. We stayed at a lovely B&B just down from this stand of Victorian buildings, the "Six Sisters," so named as they they were rebuilt after the earthquake for the owners six daughters.

The drive back to Wellington took us through the Lake Taupo region, which has another of the remarkable features of New Zealand: geothermals areas. Below is a formation at Orakei Korako, formed by silica flows. There was boiling water and steam coming from the ground throughout the park and several areas where mud was boiling. It's quite otherworldly.

Well, that's it for now. Hope everyone is doing well. Cheers.

Sunset from Titahi Bay

2008-10-02T00:08:00.001-07:00

After a couple of wet, windy cold days--as well as a series of bureaucratic irritations and a fall off the bike--the Southwesterlies turned and the skies finally cleared. Kristen started work orientation today, and left to my own devices I tried not to obsess about the US election and the "bailout".

We had a marvelously fresh dinner of scallops, sushi and sashimi, then drove a few minutes up the coast to Titahi Bay to watch the sunset. Flocks of birds braved the stiff crosswinds to roost on Mana Island (far right) as the sun set gloriously over the ridges of the South Island.

I am reminded of Keats' words (from Ode on a Grecian Urn), "Beauty is truth, truth beauty. That is all ye know on earth, and all ye need know." To see that beauty, borne of our impermanence, is to let go of impatientce, dread, or anything that prevents us living in the now, for now is all we have.

More Botanical Garden Photos

2008-09-28T20:49:00.000-07:00

Hey, shouldn't he be facing the other way to water the tulips?

Various succulents (I especially like that specimen in the center).

Flowering Japanese Cherry Trees (I believe), luminous with flowers.

A nice view of the park at the edge of the Thorndon district of the city.

Hundreds of acres magnificent greenspace perched in the hills above the heart of the city. Ahhh, Wellington!

Tulip Festival 2008

2008-09-28T19:53:00.000-07:00

By Sunday, we felt recovered enough from the flight to venture up the west coast motor way. In a matter of minutes, we found ourselves surrounded on one side by lush, sheep-dotted hills and on the other by rocky coastline to rival Big Sur.

Kristen cleverly snapped our shadows "kissing" on the sands of Paraparaumu beach (that's Kapiti Island in the background)

We ventured back into downtown Welly, as the weather was perfect for a walk in the Botanical Gardens. The cable car ride up the hill provided a dramatic view of the harbor . . . and the gardens.

Kiwi English- lesson one

2008-09-26T21:22:00.000-07:00

Rule 1: single vowel sounds almost never occur in Kiwi. Rather, a written vowel is pronounced as a random mixture of no fewer than two vowels, which may exclude any sound normally identified as belonging to the letter as written.

Rule 1a (pronounced "wahn eeeih"): a vowel cavalcade has the right of way over any adjoining consonants

Example: in the photos at left, a girl and a gull are pictured. In Kiwi, the former is pronounced as "gieuhl" and the latter as "goeuhl"-- as in: "Tell the gieuhl not to feed scroggins to the goeuhl" (scroggins will be covered in a later lesson). In both cases, the "L" sound at the end is strictly optional.

Arrival

2008-09-26T14:18:00.000-07:00

The transit was interminable, essentially 24 hours from MSP to Welly. Mercifully, the flights were uneventful, as was our passage through immigration and customs. Once debarked in Auckland, we had to scramble (as Prudence had predicted) to catch the connecting flight to Wellington. We shared this experience with a young lady, also American, who had come to NZ to play competitive amateur softball. Rosie met us at the gate, and very graciously took us on a brief motor tour of the city en route to our motor lodge, where Eliot the manager helped settle us in. Almost immediately on arrival, we were struck by the friendliness and even temperament shared by most Kiwi's. Also noted was the accent, which consists of a slurry of vowels and clipped consonants, very distinct from the UK and Aussie accents. In a haze of exhaustion we attempted a couple of errands, managing only to buy a couple of Avanti bikes and lunch at the Peppermill in Porirua. We managed not to get killed on our brief driving foray, keeping left and navigating roundabouts in a team effort. We watched some local rugby, guessing at the rules but captivated by the flow and physicality of the game, but soon after nightfall lapsed into a comatose sleep. Unfortunately, nobody told our pituitary glands that they were in NZ, so we woke up around 0330. Once the sun was up, we walked to the station to take the train into downtown, noting many unfamiliar plants, including masses of thorny scrub plants festooned with bright yellow flowers. Halfway in, our train was diverted to a bus, which promptly broke down. The conductor cheerily herded us onto another bus, and we eventually made it into the central station, which was supposedly modeled on Penn Station. It is very early spring here, and while yesterday was glorious, today is cool, blustery and overcast. As I write (R), we're sheltering in a quaint little cafe on Lambton Quay (pronounced "key") as the streets begin to bustle.

cheers, K&R