I was doing my best to forget a difficult week in paradise.
New Zealand's springtime greenery is an unfairly cruel temptation during exam time here. As you Charlottesvillians - bless your hearts - sink into the depths of winter, Auckland is awakening into springtime. The sun is yawning and stretching its limbs at progressively earlier hours and lingering for a few extra minutes of conversation at the end of each day. The college women of Auckland traded their black winter ensembles for their (still black) spring sets, and seeing a young man who is actually wearing proper shoes has become somewhat of a rarity.
Meanwhile, my situation is a bit less sunny. The University of Auckland's student body, which typically avoids its dingy, dreary campus as much as possible, has suddenly descended en masse on its library and study area. Previously deserted lecture halls are suddenly filled, and computers, study carrels and quiet spaces are as hard to come by in the city as Bush supporters. I had no idea how to obtain some prime study space myself, exacerbating my exam-related strain. Like a cockroach, my existence during exam time is restricted to dark corners and places no one else will take.
After my exams passed, I had trouble adjusting to my newfound freedom outside, given my past two weeks of indoor seclusion. I felt the cognitive dissonance arise as I attempted to waste a Thursday afternoon by catching up with The New York Times. My Kiwi friend Sam, using perhaps an odd sort of telepathy, sent me a text message, promising to take me on the sort of adventure that causes one to forget such pragmatic concerns. A few hours later, I stuffed a bathing suit, jacket and some peanut butter sandwiches into a backpack and hopped into his car.
I have determined that the lack of traffic has given young Kiwi men permission to drive like complete idiots, roaring through winding country roads in ignorance
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