City lights beneath a new set of stars...
It's like Carnivale only without the copious amounts of public sex! Sort of like Manchester...
So far, so good. I've made through my first couple of weeks in the City of Sails without any serious physical damage, though if I keep looking the wrong way when I cross the street that's bound to change in a drastic way. Classes have been alright so far; lots of post-processual this and hyper-interpretive that and heaps upon heaps of dense critiques of so-and-so's proposal that landscapes must be evaluated in qualitative fashions to account for cultural change and relevance, lest we find ourselves locked into environmental determinism and thus straying from the anthropological perspective altogether (I think?). It's really like I picked up right where I left off, which, taking into account the blurry, beer-soaked craziness of the past two years or so, makes perfect sense.
I've been meeting people, which was never on the agenda but so far has been welcome (we'll re-evaluate that later, my pet). The school threw a party for grad students and, with free beer and wine on the menu, it's no surprise that there was a large drawn from the peanut gallery of archaeology. It was a splendid evening of yelling and debauchery that ended, of course, with a last effort at a bar on the other side of town. I've got a number of contacts now, and a few plans on the horizon, so I guess it can't be all bad.
I saw NOFX over the weekend, which was a bit odd. Judging by the amount of hang time some of the folks in the pit had, the kiwi kids seem to know how to have a good time. The band, on the other hand, was a bit cranky at first. I suppose I was a little ill-tempered as well when I got off the plane, but, then again, I'm not a professional entertainer. No matter. The band found their groove halfway into the set, which included a killer reggae version of Rancid's "Radio." Made me a little homesick to hear American accents again.
This coming weekend K will be laid up after surgery, so I'll be calling home to help keep her sanity. I've got a BBQ at another grad student's house on Saturday, and perhaps I'll go explore Devonport (a town across the harbor from Auckland). I hear there's a good beach over there, and I've been itching to dig my locals into some Pacific sand again. Oh, the beach. You're good times, buddy.
Anyway, I'm off to find some Korean pancakes for dinner and maybe a frozen yoghurt (the "H" is for "Hell if I know why they need an H in it"). Later skaters.
Obbies:
-Happy Birthday to my old man. I'm gonna call him from the future and rub it in that I get to celebrate it before he does.
-Bottom of the world, Ma!
Mahalo!
So far, so good. I've made through my first couple of weeks in the City of Sails without any serious physical damage, though if I keep looking the wrong way when I cross the street that's bound to change in a drastic way. Classes have been alright so far; lots of post-processual this and hyper-interpretive that and heaps upon heaps of dense critiques of so-and-so's proposal that landscapes must be evaluated in qualitative fashions to account for cultural change and relevance, lest we find ourselves locked into environmental determinism and thus straying from the anthropological perspective altogether (I think?). It's really like I picked up right where I left off, which, taking into account the blurry, beer-soaked craziness of the past two years or so, makes perfect sense.
I've been meeting people, which was never on the agenda but so far has been welcome (we'll re-evaluate that later, my pet). The school threw a party for grad students and, with free beer and wine on the menu, it's no surprise that there was a large drawn from the peanut gallery of archaeology. It was a splendid evening of yelling and debauchery that ended, of course, with a last effort at a bar on the other side of town. I've got a number of contacts now, and a few plans on the horizon, so I guess it can't be all bad.
I saw NOFX over the weekend, which was a bit odd. Judging by the amount of hang time some of the folks in the pit had, the kiwi kids seem to know how to have a good time. The band, on the other hand, was a bit cranky at first. I suppose I was a little ill-tempered as well when I got off the plane, but, then again, I'm not a professional entertainer. No matter. The band found their groove halfway into the set, which included a killer reggae version of Rancid's "Radio." Made me a little homesick to hear American accents again.
This coming weekend K will be laid up after surgery, so I'll be calling home to help keep her sanity. I've got a BBQ at another grad student's house on Saturday, and perhaps I'll go explore Devonport (a town across the harbor from Auckland). I hear there's a good beach over there, and I've been itching to dig my locals into some Pacific sand again. Oh, the beach. You're good times, buddy.
Anyway, I'm off to find some Korean pancakes for dinner and maybe a frozen yoghurt (the "H" is for "Hell if I know why they need an H in it"). Later skaters.
Obbies:
-Happy Birthday to my old man. I'm gonna call him from the future and rub it in that I get to celebrate it before he does.
-Bottom of the world, Ma!
Mahalo!