A Canadian in New Zealand

I heard the chickadees and magpies out chirping away this morning, discussing, I suppose, whether or not to venture out of their tree top homes. A couple weeks ago it was 10 degrees outside, after having been a chilly -37 the previous week. The kids and I put away the sleds and skates and pulled out the bikes. Although still a bit icy, the kids could manage to get around the block on their bikes with only a few slips. My five year old, God bless him(!) learned to ride in these conditions.

Then, the weekend arrived. Friday night it snowed (10cms!). Saturday it snowed (another 15 cms!). But by Sunday it was hot and people were in their t-shirts shoveling the heavy dump! On Tuesday the radio was announcing a risk of thunderstorms, so we tucked away the snow suits and pulled out the umbrellas.

Today it was a sunny 15 degrees and almost all the snow is gone… until next winter? Who knows, but I am heading out to seed my spinach and turn my compost while I can.

Today I walked my daughter to school, and had my boys in the chariot, a covered stroller that fits two kids side by side. On the seat of the chariot there was a sheep skin for them to sit on. I also had them in their snowsuits, in warm socks with sheep skin slippers over top, warm mitts, toques. They were then in their sleeping bags (guaranteed warm for -20C), and had a blanket that covered them both. After about 2o minutes, they complained of being cold! I had to laugh, this predicament seemed so ludicrous!

Along the walk we passed a cup of coffee that had been spilled on the ground in its disposable cup. The amazing thing, was it had frozen in mid-spill! As I was giggling about the sillyness of this situation I looked up and two greyghounds were walking by wearing their down coast and boots. Oh Canada, you make me laugh!

When I got home my cheeks were tingling as the cold turned to warm, and I reveled in this sensation.

While staring out my frost covered living room window at the streets of the second coldest place in the world (as recorded a few weeks back anyway), I began to truly appreciate the beauty and uniqueness of Calgary, Canada. There is nothing like living in Paradise for a year to make one appreciate what she has here at home. The giant snowblower/plower that passed our house the other day actually made my boys and I laugh outloud, then run outdoors to take some pics and gawk in amazement at what Canadians are capable of. The snow was being blown into the back of a dump truck, with both the blower/plow and dump truck moving at a uniform pace. There was a line-up of empty dump trucks behind the one being filled, ready to take its place in this incredible snow removal proceedure.

This winter my three kids and I went skating on a river, yes, just like in the Joni Mitchell song! We managed about 2 kilometres before the kids colapsed in a heap on the ice, no longer able to support their wobbly legs. It was only their second time on the ice, so unfamiliar was the sensation they wore out quicker than I had expected. So I pilled them onto the benches we had brought for balance, and I pushed them back to where out boots and hot chocolate were stashed.

Tobaganning is another activity which has consummed our days since the snow started falling over a month ago. There is a small hill outside my daughter’s school and I am constantly amazed and encouraged by the sheer number of parents and kids who use this slope after the last bell of the day goes. Kids pile onto the few tobagans that are actually at the hill and everyone laughs and laughs, because there is nothing quite like speeding down a hill, so close to the ground, with no brakes and virtually no control, especially when there is a whole schwack of kids pilled on top of you. When the sun sets at 4:30, we all head home to gulp down some ho cho before dinner, our cheeks rosy.

I know these sound like predictable Canadian activities, but I am trying to convey the beauty and joy of them. In past winters I have worried when the first snow comes; “Ok, so now what?” I wonder to myself, “How am I going to keep three kids happy for the next 6 months until spring starts to peek?” This year, it has seemed so obvious, my instinct calls out; “Get outside and enjoy that cold!” The snow doesn’t last forever, and most countries don’t get any.

There is some adventure in going outside in Canada during the winter, even if you only venture as far as your front yard. After an hour of rolling snow balls, your mouth begins to freeze up so you can no longer speak clearly, and perhaps this even makes you drool a bit without realizing it out of the corner of your mouth. Your finger tips also start to go numb, but this gives some satisfaction as just getting outside in this kind of weather can give one a little boost.

A few months ago the Greyhound bus dropped me off at what they called the “Invermere Highway Junction” at 10:25pm. It was dark, -20 degrees celsius, and lightly snowing. There was absolutely no wind, so the flakes were following their natural courses, fluttering down, shifting side to side until laying in perfectly random yet uniform places, leaving a gorgeous shimmering blanket over the landscape. Ihad on my long underwear, my regular clothes, my fleece coat, my down vest and my down jacket, as well as a toque, some mitts and big boots, so was not bothered by the cold. Instead, I was stunned by how lucky I was at that moment to be witnessing such beauty, in such a calm, dark space.

… but may not have time now, as we are on our way back to Canada!

-NZ Coffee culture and it’s family inclusiveness

-Stay-at-home-dads: so many of them and they are doing a great job!

-Autumn: Apples and pears are expected, but grapes, feijoas, passionfruits and mild temps are all a surprise!

-People are not the only ones who like it here: animnals and plants also go crazy for NZ.

-Canadian Rules: In Canada the list of rules (ie- no smoking, no skateboarding, “no shirt, no shoes, no service,” etc) goes on and on, this doesn’t exist in NZ

-The City of Christchirch picks up everyone’s compost buckets every other week and then turns the contents into beautiful compost using the Bokashi Method.

-Leaves are often used as mulch, rather than being stuffed into plastic bags and sent to the dump.

-The cyclist lanes are painted green, so they are obvious to all.

-The watermelons have seeds in them! Did you even know black watermelon seeds still existed outside of paintings of them?

-Mailboxes are all at the curb, so the posties are all on bikes and can easily deliver everyone’s mail without having to go up front steps, or inside apartment buildings to do so.

-The weather. Kiwis keep telling me that winter is fierce once it arrives, but we have been here for eight months now and winter has yet to make an appearance. We have not had to heat our house in all this time.

-The freedom to roam. There are hills and beaches and forests and rivers everywhere here, all accessible, all free, all gorgeous!

-Free range eggs everywhere! Chickens are everywhere, and as a result, so are their eggs, for sale of course, but very available and fresh and free range.

-The lushness; green everywhere, with bits of mist, or sparse clouds, floating between hills and in valleys.

-No fuss, no glamour. New Zealanders are incredible for their practical side; things are functional, well maintained and appropriate. Thrift stores charge a fortune for second hand goods as they are truly hard to come by. People keep items alive well beyond their use-by date meaning there is little consumer culture, and items maintain their value, even once broken or rusted.

-Lots of people create their own businesses to survive. Creativity is rampant, and this is demonstrated through the incredible range of small businesses in NZ. Coffee shops being a good example; there are no two coffee shops alike in Nelson, but many, many, many coffee shops!

The farmer’s markets here in New Zealand are absolutely amazing. The ones I have known in Canada just don’t compare. In Calgary the farmer’s market was held in a giant warehouse-type building. This, of course, was as a result of the Canadian climate, so could not be helped, and certainly the Canadians were trying to make it feel market-like. The stall owners were a conglomerate of entrepreneurial-type people who had ambitions to sell goods to people at exorbitant prices. I think the market shoppers assumed that these higher prices indicated higher quality produce, or that they were supporting their local farmers, but in actual fact, most of the so-called “farmers” had never grown or made anything from scratch. Instead the “farmers” were grocery store-type employees, usually quite young and uninterested. The first-as-you-walk-in and biggest vendor at the Calgary market was a stall that paid a whole heap of employees to sell every kind of produce you’d find at any other grocery store in town, although sometimes in bigger quantities. It wasn’t locally sourced, or organic, or fresh. Most of it had been grown a lot farther away even, than the 1000km radius I was trying to abide by while living there. Other vendors were selling candy they’d bought in bulk (probably from Cost-Co), and fish they’d ordered from overseas. I do have to give some credit however to the Calgary Farmer’s Market, as at every Canadian market there were always a few Hutterite stalls, local carrot growers, as well as a few people that sold things they made themselves, for example; soap, beef jerky and bagels. My problem overall with the market was that it was hard to identify, sometimes, what was what, and generally speaking, the produce wasn’t any different from the stuff you would buy at Safeway on non-market days.

In New Zealand, on the other hand, there are very strict rules as to who can sell their wares at a farmer’s market. To make it an ‘authentic’ market, which Nelson’s Wednesday market is, there must be 80% certified local stall holders. The food which is being sold must be done so by a certified primary producer and must come from within a defined region. Vendors may also sell value-added products made by themselves using ingredients from a certified primary producer. So what this means is that the people selling goods at the markets here are the actual farmers and artisans themselves. They grow the produce and raise the cows, and make the cheese, and spin the yarn, and bake the bread themselves; a fantastic concept really.

As a result, what you get is a vibrant market, where the market vendors are keen and excited to be there. The vendors can tell you where the produce was grown, and how – that is, whether they used organic methods or not for example, and are keen to share their personal recipes, as they have a lot! Remember if they have enough to sell at the market then surely they are eating the veggies themselves, therefore they know exactly how to use the produce and are keen to share this knowledge. Today I bought some incredible looking giant orange mushrooms called “saffron milkcaps”. Something I had never tried before.

“When these mushrooms bruise they turn green,” the seller told me, “so don’t be alarmed if that happens. Here is a recipe for a soup using them.” Fantastic! Dinner plan made. I also tasted, and then bought, some chestnuts for the first time today. A big bag of them for $2! I’ve never bought chestnuts before because I’ve never known what to do with them. The only reference to chestnuts I know, in fact, comes from that old Christmas song about “chestnuts roasting on an open fire.” So I’ve always assumed I’d need to have a fireplace in order to prepare chestnuts for consumption. It turns out this is not true, a pot in the oven will do, but be sure to split the shell first, or you’ll have them exploding all over the place. I also bought three quinces for $1, but am not yet sure what to do with them. Apparently they need to be cooked, and are usually used in chutneys and sauces, to make them palatable. This will be my challenge for the week; to work out how to use the three quinces before market day comes around again.

To sum up, one of the things I love about the farmer’s market here is the advice and knowledge that comes along with my purchases. The market vendor can introduce me to, and then tell me exactly how to prepare, unusual produce.

Another thing I love about the market is the reduction of waste our family has participated in since deciding to shop there. Every week I buy two cartons of eggs from the egg vendor, and every week I return my previous two cartons for her to use again. So in total, we have disposed of no egg cartons in the past 7 months. The honey man will also re-use his honey jars and offers a 50 cent discount on the next jar when you return your previous one. As most vendors have no plastic bags to offer to shoppers, market-goers are encouraged to use reusable bags. The market is held outdoors year-round so no facility has to be heated and cooled throughout the year, reducing its energy consumption. Furthermore the bread man packages his bread in biodegradable packaging, and it goes on and on. As a result our family of five is producing one garbage bag full every five weeks. Even our recycling has been reduced to one box every two weeks. This is the first time since having our kids that our waste production is reducing, and it comes as a direct result from shopping at the market.

And finally, the thing I love most about shopping at the market is the social aspect. It has made me feel like part of the community when the lemon woman saves me her last six lemons, as she knows I am coming even if I am a bit later than usual. The egg woman welcomes me with “Hello Chelsie! How are you?” and the bread man gives me his experimental breads for free and a jar of home made jarred beets because I had previously asked him what to do with all the beets I had just bought for cheap off the organic guy. The organic guy has noticed I am interested in the process of growing market produce and has invited me out to his farm for a look, and has offered to answer any questions about organic produce production I may have. In return for supporting these friendly, pleasant market vendors, I get picked-today produce from conscientious growers who seem genuinely happy to be quizzed about their practices and creations.

One last comment on the farmer’s market here is that the prices at the market are actually cheaper than you’d find at the store, which makes sense as it is a direct transaction between grower and consumer, although the opposite was true of the Calgary Farmer’s Market. I bought a watermelon for $2 this week, and asked the watermelon guy pick out his best one for me. He grinned and started tapping on them, then passed me a perfect melon. I noticed today that watermelons are going for $5 at the grocery store, and there were no employees nearby to help me choose a nice one, not that any of them would know what a nice one looks like if they saw it, or would even look up at me for long enough for me to ask anything of them.

Thanks to Nelson’s Wednesday Farmer’s Market for a fabulous experience!

She’ll be ‘right mate; an expression I have come to love, and hate! I was so charmed by this expression when I first heard it said by my husband ten years ago. It defines the “Down Under” attitude precisely. People here are laid-back, relaxed, in no rush, they love life and are generally optimistic that things will turn out. Does this seem a bit too stereotypical? Anyway, “She’ll be ‘right” is a Kiwi’s response to virtually everything. For example;

Me: “I’ve got a cold and feel tired.”

Kiwi: “Ah, she’ll be ‘right by tomorrow mate.”

Me: “I broke my leg last year and it still hasn’t healed properly, the doctor told me today I’ll need to have it amputated before my whole body turns gangrene. Not only that but while I was at the hospital, my house burnt down with all our passports inside and our beloved pet fish. My kids are devastated and I’ll never walk again or own another house.”

Kiwi: Pats you on the back and says “She’ll be ‘right mate. How ’bout a beer?”

“She’ll be ‘right mate” seems to cover all the bases and is used in excess. It is the instant response no matter the gravity of the situation. It means the person on the other end a) doesn’t have to endure your whining and b) doesn’t have to think of a way to console you. NZ culture has already covered your ass! She’ll be ‘right mate!

In Canada, I was living in a city called Calgary. To the west of Calgary there are the Rocky Mountains, which go on for

many kilometres, and to the east there are the prairies, which stretch on for many, many more kilometres. For eight months of the year Calgary is covered in snow. Occasionally during this period Calgarians get a mid-winter reprieve in the form of “Chinook Winds”. These winds come in from the west over the mountains and somehow cause the temperatures to rise abnormally for a few days before it quickly dips back down to its more seasonal temperatures of -20 again.

Calgary gets a “guaranteed” 90 days of frost-free weather over the summer months. When, exactly, these 90 days will happen is anyone’s guess. But this becomes the Calgarian’s window in which to grow her produce for the year. Over the May long weekend all the ambitious gardeners prep their beds and plant their seeds and seedlings, which they purchased and propagated in their homes months earlier, as above 0 degree temperatures are pretty much guaranteed after this

point… except for last year, that is, when we still had snow in June. By mid to late August Calgarians are picking and digging up vegetables as quickly as they can and preserving them in various ways for the upcoming winter. Desperately and inevitably the tomatoes are picked when they are green, although sometimes people cover their tomatoes with special tomato blankets to try to extend their life on the vine by just a few more days. Or still other times Calgarians will pick the entire vine and hang it in their basement in hopes of tasting a vine ripened, albeit a in the basement, tomato; a serious delicacy on the prairies. Canadians, particularly Calgarians, tend to their gardens in a desperate, rather than leisurely, manner. Last fall I spoke with my sister who said she was trying to be greedy with her gardening and left her potatoes in until September hoping they’d grow that much bigger. Unfortunately they had a very sudden and very cold snap early that month which lasted for a good week, and all her vegetables were lost. Oh well, she’ll have another opportunity next summer! While Canadians try to maintain their optimistism, this can be very, very difficult at times.

Anyway, what I am trying to get at is this; gardening in Calgary is a brief, stressful and difficult hobby. It is a frivolous activity that most people indulge in, but rarely succeed at. As a result, Calgarians have to import most of their food from various places around the world with the US and Mexico being the closest importers, although it is highly likely for Calgarians to eat kiwis, apples and mandarins from places such as Chile, New Zealand and China at some point during the winter. While living in Calgary I tried to buy “local” produce. A thousand kilometre radius is how “local” is defined in Calgary. At the time, I thought this was quite a reasonable goal, and was trying to maintain this standard in order to make myself feel like a better person, although with much difficulty. Most months my produce, on average, was coming from 1800 kms away or more.

By comparison, I recently had an experience at the local farmer’s market here in Nelson, NZ with a woman selling

blueberries. I asked, out of curiosity, where she grew the berries. To this she shamefully bowed her head down and said, “You know, it is really important to support your local farmers. I am only here this week because the usual guy is sick. My farm is in Blenheim, but you should really support your local farmers.” Blenheim, for those who don’t know, is 67 Kilometres east of Nelson. I was stunned.

Local here means grown in Nelson. That is, within its actual city boundaries! So this is what I’ve been doing; buying produce from the man who lives on the street over from me. This man, Johny- retired and fantastic(!)- charges next to nothing for spray-free, picked-today red peppers, watermelons and tomatoes. I am certain however, if I tried, I could probably find a more local grower, although Johny will do for now!

I had heard that New Zealanders like to be “PC”, as they say, before I arrived on this Pacific Island, although I don’t think I fully grasped the scale of what PC meant to New Zealanders, that is, until today.

Today my kids were taught the words to “Baa Baa White Sheep” at Playcentre. Does anyone remember this one from preschool? I suppose these new lyrics are meant to help eliminate racism, although in my opinion it points out racism where none previously existed! The original song has nothing to do with race, and if it does, then it has already done its part in being “PC” by asking the black sheep, rather than the white sheep, if it has any wool.

Anyway, I couldn’t help myself. Baa baa white sheep has taken it too far!

Tonight, while volunteering to roll sushi for my daughter’s upcoming school Gala (the biggest school fundraiser of the year) I was surrounded by people from the world over. The only nationality missing? New Zealanders! The host was a Scot, the other four were from Britain, and I, of course, was from Canada. While we all tried to make our “moving to NZ” story sound unique, we have all come here for the same reason; it is beautiful, cheaper, warmer and less populated than the countries we grew up in. It is less money oriented, less stressful and more fun to boot! People like it here! This is a concept that wasn’t part of life in Calgary. People, like myself, were there because we grew up there. Others were there because of the proximity of the Rocky mountains. But most were there because there were/are jobs there that pay outrageous amounts of money to anyone who wants to accept them! A standard interview question (on behalf of the applicant) is “What are you offering?” To which the employer would ask “What do you want?” To which the applicant would say “I want an exorbitant amount of money, even though I have just graduated and have no actual relevant experience in your industry.” To which the employer would say “We’ll give you more than that!” And the negotiations would go from there. People could easily approach their employer and ask for a raise at any time because they’d been approached by someone else who’d offered them more elsewhere. Six-digit salaries were common, even among recent University graduates. Oil and Gas seems to be the primary employer of Calgarians. And anyone who isn’t working directly for Oil and Gas is working indirectly for Oil and Gas.  Calgary’s existence is based on the Oil and Gas industry, and that is the reason people live in Calgary.

Service, as a result, was bad in Calgary. Christmas shopping became even more horrendous than it should have been because there would be only one employee working during this peek season at popular shops. It was impossible for companies to find employees to work in retail, or service industries of any sort as there were so many other, higher paying jobs available to whoever wanted them. I was out for dinner with my family one night and noticed there was only one waiter on staff for the entire restaurant. It took us all night just to get our bill the poor waiter was so flat out.

Service in Nelson is also bad. The reason here, however, is not because there is an abundance of money and jobs, it is because people aren’t after money here. “It’s the Lifestyle that Counts” reads Nelson City’s sign upon entering. The coffee shops generally close down at 3pm, although some will stay open as late as 5pm. On Sundays they are centainly shut down, and are unpredictably closed at various other times as the owners just want to leave town for a few weeks, or go for an afternoon surf, or hike up a mountain. The hours are rarely posted on the front doors, leaving the availability of afternoon lattes up to chance.

Doctors also enjoy the good life. Our family physician works 3 days per week because this allows her to earn enough money to pay her bills, and certainly gives her enough time to enjoy herself and her family. Today I called to book an appointment, but she is out of town for the next two weeks (this is the second time I have had this response). While it slows things right down, it makes me smile; people are living good lives in Nelson, not cash-starving existences.

People aren’t particularly keen to make a sale or push their product in Nelson. Consumers will purchase their product if they are interested, and this will happen in time, and the consumer will find the sales agent and their product regardless of the service that is given. Just last week I was trying to view a rental home and wanted to do so quickly- perhaps on the day I called even, but this certainly was not an option. The receptionist took down my number and said the agent would call me within a day or so about setting up an appointment. The next day came and went and I heard nothing. The day after that came and went and still nothing. Finally, three days after I’d made the enquiry, the rental agency called me back and said “We can take you through tomorrow at 4:30pm.” I told her I wouldn’t be able to make that appointment as I had to get my daughter to her swimming lesson. Un-worriedly she responded; “Well, we’ll let you know if we do another showing.” A week later I haven’t heard back. I guess in this case I was expected to jump on the opportunity I was being provided. I should have rearranged my schedule to fit the agent’s time frame if I was serious about renting the house. They know someone will rent it. I am learning these valuable lessons slowly.

There is a very relaxed feel, and a genuine understanding that people will like Nelson so much, that businesses will flourish and grow regardless of the amount of effort put in. Nelsonians don’t need to compete.

I do like being in a place that everyone loves, it makes the city feel livelier and encourages people to participate in all sorts of activities and festivals around town. I never loved Calgary and I never met anyone who did, and I lived there for 28 years of my life. I always saw Calgary as being a very transient city. It was hard to keep a friend for more than a few years there as, likely, once they’d made enough money they would move to a nicer place and buy a cheaper home maybe in their hometown, or maybe in coveted B.C.. I think I can say it is a fact that all Calgarians have plans to move to B.C. once they have enough money to do so, or are ready to retire. Nelsonians, on the other hand, already live in paradise, so will pay the price to stay here, be it through pay cuts (they call it a “sun salary” here as Nelson is a sunny city which makes it desirable) or through service cuts. Once people are here, they are here to stay!