Simon Delivers a Food Baby

     Last night, another chapter was written in the book of my history.  It all began with a friendly last dinner with Mark, the German intern who was getting ready to leave today and needed to spend his final night in New Zealand.  At 3 inches taller than I am and a foot wider, Mark decided to eat at the local Lone Star restaurant, famous for its legendary sized portions (it’s an American brand). 

     At 7 pm, the crew assembled at the innocuous looking restaurant, sitting for half an hour waiting for our meals to come and conversing about the two Germans Isabella and Caroline’s fun but stupid idea to go rafting at the beginning of winter.  When the food finally came, I saw that the women got miniscule half-sized portions, and Mark got the haystack of ribs.  Meanwhile, I noticed that both I and Monica’s 6 foot 9 boyfriend Dave got “The Burrito”, which I prefer to call “The Log”.  Along with too many potatoes and a Shaquille O’Neal handful of cole slaw, “The Log” was quite a spectacle, sitting at 9 inches above the table.  At that moment my eyes and Dave’s met menacingly, a classic David v. Goliath, 6 foot 9 vs 5 foot 9 eat-off.  I wouldn’t say Dave so much as ate “The Burrito” as much as he “engulfed” it.  Within minutes he had licked the plate clean while I had mine only half finished.  Dumping over 20 mL of tabasco over the burrito, I worked slowly but steadily, until I merely had the last painful chunks of potato left.  As I neared unconciousness due to rapid stomach expansion, I was reminded of famous pastimes, such as “The Alaskan Cruise Boat Bloat ‘05″, “First time at Todai Overload”, and the RA picnic in August where there was free top dog, also known as “The Kobayashi Experience ‘07″.

     Needless to say, my fearless determination eventually allowed me to finish the last potato, while the food in my belly pushed against the inner walls of my stomach, not dissimilar to the water pump in my laboratory which operated at 40000 pounds per square inch.  I smiled and looked at my opponent, towering a foot above me and 70 pounds heavier.  I don’t think he noticed, but this was a moment of victory.  I had eaten as much as a giant.

New Zealand, in General II

This is probably the first time you’ve ever seen me do a continuation of a prior post.  Generally, the time between posts is much too long for me to be able to hold my interest in a specific topic.

Kebabs
Often I will cite the Flight of the Conchords because they are such an important part of my life.  I’ve come to gain a better meaning of the lyrics to the song “Most Beautiful Girl in the Room”.  Within this masterpiece, Jermaine takes the relatively attractive girl to a kebab place, where he pronounces kebabs “keeb-abs”.  I’ve wasted a few minutes of my life laughing at this odd pronunciation, but in reality, that is how it is pronounced here.  Another aspect of the scene is that kebabs are probably the cheapest decent food you can get in Wellington, and by no means expensive or romantic.  Most of the kebab shops are situated in loud areas, and as Samantha Smith from Texas will tell you, “They make great food when you’re drunk!”

Asians
I am baffled by the overwhelming amount of Asians in the area.  There are tons of Asian shops selling the world renown Nong Shim noodles, Kimchi Noodle soup, Rooster sauce, and of course, dog meat.  (I’m not telling you when I am kidding anymore).  Yesterday, while us Americans were at this one awesome but expensive Italian restaurant, the white friends and I came upon the topic of Asians, which I, obviously, am an expert on.  Sam asked me if I would be willing to pose for a picture with a peace sign flashed up and my facial expression like one of the extremely stereotypical Taiwan fobs she saw in Sydney.  My answer was no. 

Language barriers
Using the incorrect terminology will immediately make you the laughingstock of the day.  Trash is to be called rubbish, dollar bills are dollar notes, trunk of the car is the boot of the car, and like Southern California, “hella” is not acceptable.  Another odd feature is that in the U.S., everyone always refers to me as the Asian guy, or the Chinese guy.  Here, on the other hand, everyone refers to me as “the American”.  No one at my work seems to show any hint of noticing my Asian heritage.

More Food
I love food so much here.  The hostel provides a full kitchen, which means that I will be able to use as much gasoline and electricity as I want. People complain about how expensive the food is here, but in reality you can eat very cheaply when you buy in bulk.  Review of Indian Tonight’s butter chicken curry coming soon.

Meanwhile, at home, my sister is about to receiver her driver’s license, a whole human gestation period earlier than when I got my driver’s license.  She better be driving the 1992 Toyota Jalopy…  If she gets a new car I’m gonna go buy an expensive Italian dinner.  Oh wait, I already did that.

 

New Zealand, in General

     Due to a request from a demanding friend (obviously female), I have been coerced into providing this blog with an update, possibly the shortest amount of time between updates ever, in discordance with my extremely clever blog title.  To start off, my workdays have finally arrived at a very consistent and borderline boring schedule after two weeks of conditioning.

     I arise from bed at 6:55 am, going straight to the kitchen eager for the repetitive breakfast of corn flakes, rice crispies,and buttered toast.  I never used to butter my toast before, but now I lather it on until I can no longer feel the blood circulating my veins.  Milk is also provided for free at the hostel, and I definitely make the most of this, consuming as much as a newborn calf.  I must have simply imagined that I was lactose intolerant.  Afterward, I wait at a bus stop with my 6 foot 3 friend Christa, until the bus comes along exactly 5 minutes late with the bus driver I refer to as the “thumbs up guy”.

     Working at my location has shown that engineerng finally shows its practical side.  So far, it has only been number crunching and reading over engineering theory that was developed hundreds of years ago.  People think engineers are all new age high tech, but the stuff we’re learning is great great grandfather material.  I’ve created several SolidWorks models here that served an actual purpose, unlike the complex and uncannily phallic contraptions of engineering 28.  I work with another German engineering intern here, who is passionate about beer and is homophobic.  He loves fishing, but hates eating fish (I told him that defeats the purpose).  For Germans, it takes 6 years just to get a mechanical engineering B.S., whereas for US, it takes only 4 years.  However, they don’t have to pay for most of their tuition.  (Those who attend private school will weep.)  Also, I help out at the laboratory assembling and testing the high pressure low volume water pump air speed and temperature, and design numerous small parts in order to automate a water pump/gun barrel machine.

     At 5:30 I wave goodbye to thumbs-up guy and come back to the hostel, sprawling on the couch in the TV lounge and vegetablize for an hour before I decide to make my $1 dinner of beans, tomatoes, onions, garlic, and bread/spaghetti/rice.  Seriously, I spend 6 new zealand dollars a week on food, (US$4.56) and occassionally splurging on a NZ$7 kebab.  Kebab wraps are definitely the burritos of New Zealand. *insert high-pitched angelic vocal sounds*  I’ve also recently gotten a $3 ($2.28) jar of butter chicken curry, which I will make use of after I finish my cheap 500g of ham and chicken flavored mystery meat.  Weekends mean going out to the pubs and almost buying a $6 bottle of beer and then deciding to get a $4 burger instead.  As much as I love succumbing to alcohol peer pressure, I have an unhealthy addiction to food.  In my free time also did some exploring around Wellington.

     On Sundays I attend the presbyterian church right next door.  I still haven’t made sense of the nuances that divide up the several sects, but in this presbyterian church the pastor wears a robe.  I go with a Methodist named Bevin from the University of Virginia.  She is extremely good at flirting, and yes, I dare say she is better at flirting than I am.  As a result, she gets a free bus ride to her work every day because she talks to the driver, and at the hostel she has a way with all the kiwi/aussie/english/german males, some of them offering her a place to stay when she takes a trip down to the South Island.  I think I need the free bus rides more than she does.

 

     I’ve just arrived from a fishing trip with a couple people from the office, as well as some of the German intern’s friends.  The scenery was beautiful, and the boat I was on had 3 bedrooms, a kitchen and dining area, a tv, stereo system, and as many bathrooms as my house did.  I could totally see some happenin’ parties on that boat.  Also, I lived in a vacation home for the first time, which is pretty awesome but still does not live up to the hype all the billionaires make it out to be.  It’s basically just a normal house with a ton of entertainment and media.  At night, Brendan the kiwi, Caroline the German, and I go to the pub to watch the rugby game, which is an insane sport.  Combine wrestling with football and you have rugby.  Americans are all worried about passing HIV when you’re bleeding on the field, but here, it doesn’t matter.  If you’ve got blood rolling down your cheeks like a gatorade commercial, you’re still playing.

     My biggest adventure is yet to come, I’m going on a 5 day vacation, just me and some Americans rolling through 9 hours of driving down the South Island countryside.  Snowboarding, here I come.

I’ll try to provide more specific stories in the near future.

 

Happy, Serena?