Harry Potter and The Missing Lamb Scrotum

So, Paul finally caved and started to read to fabled "Harry Potter" series.  One and a half weeks in, and book number 5 is started.  As expected, we've decided what characters we would be...Zhiling would be Harry Potter, and Paul is Dumbledore. 

On that line of thought, the funniest thing that Zhiling seems to think has happened of late, is a joke that Paul made up after reading wayyyyyyyy too much Harry Potter.  Are you ready for it?...

"What did Harry Potter say when he walked into the bar?"

Answer to follow...

Anyway, back in the real world, we actually had been very busy until...well, a week and a half ago.  Zhiling has completed her Family Medicine Boards!!!

This adventure (in Hawaii, where all good adventure are) comes complete with angsty lay-overs, mini-vacations in Sydney, sunny beaches, and ridiculous surfer dudes (wayyyyy, dude).

Zhiling flew out of New Zealand, managing, perhaps, the worst flight schedule in history...an eight hour lay-over in Christchurch, followed by a 10 hour lay-over in Sydney.  Luckily, Laura, our friend, lives just outside Sydney and a transit visa, apparently, can be obtained at the last moment.  So Zhiling, at least, got to see a friendly face, spend some time in a house full of children, and escape from the airport instead of slouching in a chair for 10 hours.  After this, she flew to Hawaii, took her boards, met a surfer dude who rented her a bike, offered a free energy drink (that he wandered out of his unmanned shop in front of her to go get), and had to be reminded to collect her money...by Zhiling.  Zhiling also managed to swim in the ocean and ate REAL AMERICAN pizza prior to returning to New Zealand.

As Zhiling was returning home, Paul was leaving it.  Paul was given the opportunity to work at a hospital down the road where some of our friends work, to cover Tracey while her family came to visit.  The hospital down the road is...well, different.  The doctors are ALL Americans, and so it's a much more American enviroment to work in...unfortunately.  The doctors also do shifts, working without another doctor around, so you're truly by yourself, medically speaking.  It's also a far less happy place to work...the management definitely is not as in touch with the staff, which makes everyone much more angsty...ah, reminds me of medicine back in the States:-)  The last day there was Thanksgiving day, and the experience was a good way to remember that we should be thankful that we managed, with out first offer, to get great locum positions.

As for Thanksgiving, we had it on Friday...as that would be Thursday in the States, where it really matters.  Zhiling made a roast chicken, stuffing, shrimp and broccoli, green beans, and Paul made mashed potatos...w/ extra butter and 2 eggs in it (Andrei's secret recipe).  For dessert we had bread pudding...a very British dish, which, unfortunately, Paul knew, even prior to coming to NZ, that he did not like.  Zhiling thinks he's soooooo picky.

The next weekend, we finally saw some New Zealand wildlife.  We had previously gone to the Otago Pennisula a couple of months ago.  We saw NZ's only castle there, but only made it out to the Albatross Reserve late in the day, and didn't want to pay for a rushed tour.  This time, we got out there in the morning...and a very windy morning it was, indeed.  Perfect for Albratri...Albatrosses??...Albatrices?  Albatross.  Albatross love wind...just gliding on it.  They have a 3 meter (6 foot) wingspan and use it to float on a streams of air.  On the Northend of the Otago Pennisula happens to be the only mainland colony of Albatross in the world, and you can go and watch these magnificent birds soaring about.  You can also see them nesting on the ground all about you. 

Right down the road, you can also go to see other rare birds.  This time, the Yellow-Eyed Penguin.  A reserve that they have there, has an extensive trench system dug into the beach and surrounding hills so that tourists can stealthily meander amoung nests of birds on this reserved land.  We saw several penguins, mostly Juveniles, but some adults nesting.  However, the highlight was definitely a juvenile male that was very curious and wander into the trenches behind us.  Our paranoid guide, slowly, slowly let us work closer and closer to the bird to take pictures.  We eventually had to become more aggressive in order to make the penguin move out of the trench so that we could escape.  After escaping the trenches, we slow crept our way, off the trail, to avoid startling the stupid bird.  We then went further along, where we saw seals and Blue Penguins (the world smallest penguin), though the Blue Penguins are primarily noctural, so we only saw them in their nests.

This road trip was also exciting for us because Paul located a recycling facility while he was in Balclutha working.  So 3+ months of tin cans, plastic, paper, cardboard, and glass finally got taken out of our garage and recycled.  Thank goodness.

This last weekend, we had a more Southland focus weekend...even a another Southland experience, perhaps.  We started the weekend at the Southern Fete, a gathering of Southern Island arts, food, culture, and a LOT OF VENDORS.  We got Steampunk Earrings for Zhiling and tasty cheese for Paul.  We also finally had opportunity to hear The Heartleys, a New Zealand Country act (nominated for best new Country duo or group in 2010) composed of 2 fellow Gorites, including our own Kayla, one of the nurses at the hospital.  We got their autographs...oh yeah.  Paul also waited 40 minutes for a nasty satay chicken burger.  Mmmmm.  And Zhiling rubbed Emu oils on her hands, testing their magnificent claims of greatness...

After absorbing that much Southland culture, we decided to go all the way and returned to the Keri's sheep farm.  This time was not nearly so cute...

So newborn lambs are adorable.  And birthing new lambs is cute.  Tailing lambs, giving them Vitamin B12 injections, vaccinating them for scabbies [a flesh-rotting disease...seriously, we saw a nose fall off...not exaggerating...it fell off], and adding both an eartag and and ear-marker (clipping part of the eartip off) are not cute or adorable...  First, someone grabs a lamb (getting heavy by this point in the year) from a manure-filled, crowded pen where a mixture of lambs and ewes have been corraled.  They you place them, baaa'ing and kicking the whole time, onto their backs in a a rolling conveyer where they are injected, clipped, tailed (the males also have their scrotum bound with a tight rubberband, so it will fall off...

...sorry, I'm back...had to throw up after typing that), sprayed for scabies and pink-eye, and scratched with a live vaccine.  They are generally bleeding from somewhere by this point and you are covered with blood and sheep shit.  Mmmmm.  Paul also got to run around herding sheep and had to grab a poor little blind lamb that couldn't be herded and lost its way.  Now there's your cute for the day...if you forget about the blood, shit, and lost testicles.

...Sorry, had to go throw up again...

So now, we're back to work...almost like normal again (Victor has been away, and the hospital side of things is still a little off balance without him).  Dr. Basta and his wife, Margaret, who were our phone contacts regarding Gore prior to leaving the States, as they are from the US and have worked here prior, finally made it out to Gore again.  They seem pretty awesome.  They have worked back and forth between here and the States for awhile and seem to know EVERYTHING about NZ.  Bob also does vasectomies and is going to let us watch and learn...again with the surgical sterilization...  Bob doesn't seem to be as good at fixing garage doors, as Paul and him spent a fair bit of time trying to fix our dysfunctional door, but failed.  They did manage, however, to get it to open so at least we can park the car outside now and use it.  Success!


New Zealand Travel Tip #7: Use cold water and pre-washing to remove even the toughest lambs blood and sheep shit stains.

So...what did Harry Potter say when he walked into the bar?

The Answer: Expecto Corona!

Milford Trek and Sound: A Tale of Water and Gravity

Paul and Zhiling made another attempt at being One with nature.  We finally got a little holiday time during our stay at Gore.  We decided to take on one of the Great Walks of New Zealand.  Nestled within the World Heritage Site, known as the Fiordlands National Park, the Milford Trek is known to be the "Finest Walk in the World."  We started our trip out driving to Te Anau and picking up a bus that took us to Te Anau Downs where we caught a ferry to the beginning of the trek at Glade Wharf.  To go with the theme for the whole walk, it was already raining.  Zhiling kept singing the theme song to Gilligan's Island... "The weather started getting rough.  The tiny ship was tossed.  If it wasn't for the fearless crew, the tiny ship would be lost." 

The first part of the trek was the shortest day, as we only had 5km to go to reach Clinton Hut.  We saw some wetlands that day and moss-covered forest.  We also began taking pictures of waterfalls, as we were as of yet unaware that these waterfalls would be EVERYWHERE in the next couple days.  We settled in at Clinton and got to meet our fellow trekkers there.  They included 2 New Zealanders, 1 German, 1 Australian, another American couple, and 5 young American college students travelling as a group.  That evening we had a ranger talk by Ranger Ross, who instructed us on the many ways of the Fiordlands and why the evils stoats had to all die (for those of you who are unaware they are weasel-like creatures that were accidentally introduced to New Zealand and kill all the predator-naive flightless native birds).  He also talked to us about glow worms (but not Teddy Ruxpin...tell me that somebody gets this reference, please), which happened to have a small colony just a little further down the trek.  We subsequently went to visit the glow worms and they were as cool if not cooler then fireflies.  They looked like LED lights that were stuck in the dirt.   Up close they resembled something like rice vermicelli.  Mmmmm.

Day #2 on the trail became more realistic of what our experience was going to be like.  We were planning to average 14-15km a day to get to each hut.  Day #2 also began and ended with rain, with rain in the middle as well.  Good for waterfalls.  Bad for staying dry.  The waterfalls were splendiforous and plentiful.  We walked through the "plains" area which was surrounded by high mountains, and you could easily view a dozen, thousand-foot tall waterfalls cascading down around us in one view.  When we arrived at Mintaro Hut, luckily a couple trekkers were ahead of us and had already started the wood stove fire.  As hikers arrived we all began to collect our wet socks, and boots to dry around the fire.  Paul and I munched on sausage and cheese, along with some tuna on chappati for our evening meal.  Ranger "Catie Pie" discussed with us the upcoming weather warnings for the next day or two.  There seemed to be a moderate to high avalanche risk for the next day along the trek through the mountain pass. So, as it was, a helicopter ride was likely in our near future.

Day #3, waiting... and watching lots of rain fall from the sky.  We arose early (7:30am) so we could sit around and wait for news about our upcoming ascent of the mountain.  We spent a lot of time nerding it out with the other trekkers as we discussed various sci-fi films and LOTR characters in front of the wood stove.  Around 11am, we finally got word that they had arranged helicopters to take us to the peak of the mountain pass.  As we got into to the chopper, high winds were blowing all through Mackinnon Pass.  It tossed and turned our helicopter, and many were concerned about what a close view we were getting of the mountainside walls.  But we made it to the peak.  Our gear, however, did get rather saturated as it was hauled up in the final run by the helicopter and was actually air dropped to us at the top of the pass.  Downwards we went from there, having to tramp through a couple snowy passages.  Zhiling felt like the wind was going to blow her over the steep cliffs a couple times, so she held on dearly to her walking sticks.  Paul continued to romp down the mountains in goat-like fashion, until his right knee began to throb and make him want to die...   Besides that there were some beautiful scenery, with alpine flowers, moss covered trees, and plentiful mountain streams.  The streams indeed became quite rain-engorged, and there were many parts of the trail that involved basically plunging ankle deep into them and following them down their course.   Our wool socks (as well as the rest of us) certainly got soaked that day.  We finally staggered our way into Dumpling Hut and collapsed.  We did however get to see our first flightless bird, the Kea. 

 Day #4, we once again hurried up to wait, as we had been warned of HEAVY rain for the day...though certainly we felt like we had already been hiking through HEAVY rain for the last 3 days.  There had been pictures on the Department of Conservation (DOC) website about people having to wade through waist-deep waters at certain parts of the trail, and today could be one of those days.   Ranger Amanda seemed to delight in telling us that we should be enjoying the rain, as the Fiordlands receive rain 280 days out of the calender year.  We were finally allowed to leave the hut at close to 9:00am, leaving us 5hrs to do the 18km of the last day.  We were to follow Ranger Amanda for the first part of the trek towards Boat Shed where we would assess the water level.  Paul told me that he would inflate his pants (Bear Grylls style) and allow me to float on his back should the water get too high.  When we arrived at Boat Shed, we had to ford through, at most, ankle-deep water.  So our guided tour ended, and we were again allowed to depart on our own.  A little more down trail we got to explore MacKay Falls and Bell Rock.  Bell Rock was this large boulder that had been hollowed out by some sort of natural process, and you could crawl under it and then stand up inside.  Paul had a rave party in there with his red head lamp.  Then back on to the trail we went...trying to go at full speed, with Paul's bad knee and Zhiling's painful feet.  Zhiling did however make a wise choice at the beginning of the day by setting aside her hiking boots (which were not properly broken in as she unfortunately found out on this trek) and wearing her sandals instead.  It was quite exhilarating to stick one's feet in cold stream water but her feet did get a bit torn up (and bloodied)...but at least there were no soppy socks to deal with (which Paul wished he could say).  

Exactly 5hrs later, with 18km behind us, at 2PM we arrived at Sandfly Point.  A boat waited there for us to take us back to Milford.  We had made it... 33.4 miles in 4 days (minus whatever we helicoptered over).  We were done....

But wait, there's more!  When we got to the Milford Wharf, we asked around about how to get to Milford Lodge, where we were staying that night.  Unfortunately the lodge was a 1km, or ANOTHER 20min, walk away...with our packs... in the rain.   Fantastic.   When we did finally get to Milford Lodge, our first order of business was a hot shower!  Our room REEKED as we aired out our various well-used supplies.   

The next day, we managed to haul our aching bodies out of bed in order to make the trek down to the Wharf again in time to catch our tour boat for Milford Sound.  Milford Sound may indeed be one of the most beautiful locations on the planet.  Any direction that you look, you can see something absolutely gorgeous.  The rain, by this point, had calmed to a steady drizzle...just enough to fuel a plethora of waterfalls that cascaded into the Sound all around us.  We had a more civilized viewing of nature this time, as we sat comfortably inside the warm boat sipping hot coffee.  We did, however, manage to get outside of the warm cabin for most of the trip, as the available photogenic material was fairly overwhelming.  Both Bowen and Sterling Falls (the 2 permanent waterfalls of the Sound) were amazing, and the boat traveled right up to the latter so that the spray would have soaked us were it not for the rain gear they provided.  We also were lucky enough to see seals, appropriately on "Seal Rock", and bottlenose dolphins.  We took nearly 200 photos of these and the perpetually mist-shrouded mountains around the Sound...all in the space of 2 hours.  This is a place of highly-condensed beauty:-)

From there, we traveled back East to have our first experience at the tourist-trap known as Queenstown.  A tourist-trap it may be, but there is a reason that people flock to this location.  Lake Wakatipu is a pristine, gorgeously blue lake set against emerald-green mountains.  There is also Mexican food;-)  Awesome.  We spent a leisurely day and a half wandering the streets of the off-season hub of tourism.  We shopped (i.e. Zhiling shopped...yay!).  We ate well.  We wine tasted...including from a $755 bottle of wine (which actually wasn't as good as the $29 bottle near it).  Paul, as directed by Zhiling so that she could shop unimpeded, went for a Thai massage, where he was bent like a preztel by a middle-aged Thai woman...marvelous.  Unfortunately, the revelry was cut short, as Zhiling and Paul were required back at work the next day...for 1 day, prior to the weekend.  So our rain-soaked holiday ended.

New Zealand Travel Tip #6: Even if the brochure shows only sunny scenes, with 280 days of rain out of the year, you had better bring your rain gear.

The Glorious All Blacks, Hollyford, and Horses

So for those of you who don't know (and how could you not), our home-team heroes, the All Blacks, have gloriously defeated all of their foes and won the Rugby World Cup.  This will be the first time the World Cup has come back to New Zealand in 24 years (it's an every 4 year event, like the Olympics).  The All Blacks won the original World Cup when the event began 24 years ago, but have not won it since...until now.  The All Blacks have come back from the brink and eeked by the feisty French to bring glory to a New Zealand in need of a good event (after earthquakes and other such tragedies that have crushed their spirits this year).  Yay, the French lost!  Oh yeah...the All Blacks won too:-)

Aside from New Zealand reveling this moment of Rugby satisfaction, we have also been having our own adventures...though primarily separately.  No, mom and dad, we're not finally sick of each other; it just worked out that way.

Zhiling has been spending ALL of her free time ATTEMPTING to study hard (she disagrees with the assessment of the situation) for her impending board exams.  This has left her, and Paul by extension, with little time for adventures.  However, Paul, by a mistake of scheduling, found himself obliged to go off trekking without Zhiling.

Paul found himself in the company of several of his co-workers trekking on the Hollyford trek, a beautiful trail through the Fiordlands in the West of the South Island.  While the entirety of this tramp would take far too long, we set ourselves on the more modest goal of making it to the first cabin of the trail, the Lake Alabaster Hut...only 20kms in.  So over the course of 2 days, we saw a variety of beautiful trails, gorgeous vistas, and splendiferous waterfalls, all while walking a mere 20km (12miles) per day...if that doesn't sound bad, trying doing it with a heavy pack on, uphill.  Nice!

While Paul was away spending bonding time with co-workers, Zhiling went to Pizza Hut and got herself a ham and pineapple pizza which Paul would have never eaten. Yum!  Then she unabashedly went to the video store next door and rented not one, not two, no.... six ultimate chick flicks to watch over the weekend.  These included such great movies as Burlesque starring Cher and Christina Aguilera, Sisterhood of theTravelling Pants 2, Confessions of a Shopaholic, Nights in Rodanthe, Prozac Nation, and Bright Star. Now Zhiling was planning on studying very hard that weekend for her Boards, which she ultimately did.  Though there was always plenty of time to watch at least 3 movies an evening.   Later on, she did vacate the house and went to visit Claire on her mini farmlet, who gave her her first set of horse riding lessons on Claire's horse Milo.  She also got to watch sheep get sheared...how long did you think we'd be in NZ before that happened:-)

Aside from various distractions, work has continued on.  Paul got his first opportunity to push thrombolytics ("clot busters") for an ST-Elevation MI...or almost got the opportunity.  As the medication was being drawn up, the chest pain disappeared, and the EKG normalized...gotta love aspirin-naive people.  Instead of pushing a potentially dangerous medication to open up a clogged artery, Paul got to get in a fight with a cranky cardiologist about transferring a "stable" patient instead...well he wasn't having a heart attack RIGHT then...anymore.

Zhiling, on the otherside of the hospital-practice complex, has been exceedingly frustrated by a constant stream of blood coming from every patient's various orifices...mostly coming out in the urine.  New Zealanders, for some odd reason, seem to leak blood a lot...out of noses, has been the typical place, but over the last week, it has been out the urethra.  Endocrinologic problems (hormones) also seem to be the issue of the week, with a prolactinoma and some hyperthyroidism for fun.

And the adventure continues!  Tomorrow we begin our week of holiday.  We will be tramping on "the finest walk in the world", the Milford Trek.  This high altitude trail leads through the heart of the Fiordlands (the Hollyford Trek is in the valley below the Milford) and ends at Milford Sound, a scenic sea inlet surrounded by waterfalls.

New Zealand Travel Trip #5: Don't break in your new hiking boots on a 20km/day hike.

Who's Grant And Why Are We On His Nob?

So we have settled into life here in New Zealand.  Paul and I have been on a couple random adventures as of late.  Perhaps to start with the most bizarre; we recently saw the Red Hot Chili Piper's in concert.  No that was not a typo...  indeed the Pipers not Peppers.  Imagine Transiberian Orchestra, except with bagpipes.  Who knew a bunch of middle-aged men (with great calves) ... in kilts could really rock the house .. with bagpipes? Claire yet again lassoed us into another bizarre Scottish adventure.  When we asked who these guys were, she said "They're real good.  They play pipes, and drums, and sh*t."  That got us right away and we bought tickets.  These guys were the real deal.  The drummer was the fastest drummer in the world (he actually holds the current world record).  The guitarist played AC/DC... all with bagpipes!   Just to go over a couple of the songs in the RHCP set list, they played everything from Amazing Grace, to Snow Patrol's Chasing Cars.  Though perhaps our favorite rendition was Queen's We Will Rock You.  There was a lot of disturbing hip gyration, which made me glad that the kilts were long enough, though just barely while they were on their knees doing solo's... with BAGPIPES!  It was a great show.

Aside from spending time with Tracey (the other American Locums) at the RHCP concert,  we also went over to her house for a welcome party for a second American locums coming to work in Balclutha (another hospital down the road).   Yasmin and her boyfriend were FOB (fresh off the boat) and we got a chance to ingrain them with our 2 months worth of extensive New Zealand knowledge.  We had a delicious homemade dinner made by Tracey and shared some local wines... and when we say share some local wines we mean watched several bottles consumed within a short period of time.  The fast disappearance of wine bottles may have strongly been attributed to a presence of an Irishman in our midst, Shamus.  We finally got to meet the famous Shamus, who we will soon get the pleasure to know better as he is starting to work at Gore.  More to follow...

On our own we have been a little less adventurous, communing in our NZ home.  We have continued to reap the joys of the indoor garden that we planted in the sun room.  Multiple heads of lettuce, rocket herb are now at an edible state.  Paul and I have also started growing peas, tomatoes, green beans, cilantro, and basil from seed.  These have started to sprout nicely, and with the weather improving we will soon be able to plant them outside.  However, all of our gardening has not been successful, as our worm compost is now devoid of worms as they all died.  Whoops!  Lesson learned.  The whole concept of wet to dry material one should take seriously.  We likely drowned our worms.  The ones left over probably got overheated after we left them in the sunroom.





We have managed to keep up with our exploring, we went to the Blossum Festival in Alexandra.  We saw our first parade in New Zealand.  It seems parade's in New Zealand largely consists of trucks.  Boy they like their trucks here.  The beginning of the procession consisted of about 10 mins of big rig trucks, one after the other, after the other, from EVERY local business.  There were also some floats that decided to show up.  And of course bagpipe bands, four to be precise.  The Scots are everywhere.  After that we were rained on by the unexpected (or should we say always expected) weather of New Zealand.  We dashed around and looked at arts and crafts stuff.  We watched big men chop wood with large axes... competitively.  Who knew there were that many ways to cut a log in half?  We ended the day going to Monteith Beer Company and munched on some fries and warmed ourselves up with some Ale, cheers!

And now to Grant's Nob.  And what a Nob it was.  Right near Dolomore Park which we have formerly blogged about, there is a large hill with a beautiful trek up the side.   After a steep incline over a short distance there is a wonderful view of the valley below where Gore is located.  We found a spot that we definitely will return to for picnic in the future.








As well, locally, Brown Trout season has opened.  And Gore is the Brown Trout capital of the world.  Paul went on a boys trip out fishing with Karl the CEO, and Victor (his Russian counterpart in the hospital).  He managed to catch nothing though Victor share from his bounty.  We had two brown trouts that we baked and ate.  They were pretty good.  We'll be out later fishing.

To end off our latest week, we spent a lazy Sunday at home, watching the All Blacks brutally pound the Australian Wallabye's (who's actually scared of a team called the wallabyes?)  in the semi-finals.  The World Cup madness is still raging here.  This will reach a fever pitch next week as the All Black's (our home team heroes) battle ?the French.  That's right the French got into the Finals.  Now if the French win, NZ will know eternal shame.   Side Note: I would also say the All Blacks won in the most number of bloody noses during this latest semi-finals game.  I have never seen so much blood in a professional sport since Mike Tyson bit off Evander Holyfield's ear.

New Zealand Travel Tip #4:  Don't leave your worms in a warm sloppy mess in the sun room...even if they smell too bad to keep in the house.

More Reflecting...

So it's been a fairly miserable week around here. The weather, in true Shakespearean sympathy to my plight, has been largely rain. Though, NZ has some of the most quickly changing weather I've ever seen. "Four seasons in a day", they like to say, and it's not even close to an exaggeration. But all said, though it has cycled quickly through all four seasons, indeed, every day, the majority of it has been rain.

And why is this watery weather Shakespearean sympathy? Well...I was lucky to be the recipient of some nasty gastrointestinal ailment. At first we thought Norovirus, given the rapid onset, prominent nausea, and...endless trips to the bathroom, to put it politely. However, the high fevers and shaking chills would be somewhat atypical for Norovirus...and it turns out that Campylobacter is endemic here. So that's what I'm going with...Campylobacter diarrhea. Perfectly timed Campylobacter diarrhea, to take me out at the beginning of the week...no sleep, no food, and little more than a couple glasses of water over a 48 hour period. Thank the Good Lord for Victor, my wonderful Russian counterpart, who propped me up at work with some sweet IV Fluid love. And an extra thanks to the Good Lord, for it not being a busy week on-call. The hospital itself is hopping, but A&E (ER) has been relatively quiet at night. And, a third and final thanks, as I don't think that I passed on this bug to anyone at work (it's kind of awkward to work at the hospital, have a GI bug that could be highly contagious, and not being able to call in because there is no one to cover you). I lost most of the skin on my hands to washing, but I haven't had any patients or other staff get sick (yet...it's a little early for Campylobacter).

Anywho, enough whining:-) I got to lose some weight, and probably still will lose a little more (tummy isn't quite up to eating a full meal yet), which means I'll look great in my bikini this summer:O

This sick time left me somewhat delirious this week with a lot of curious thoughts running through my head. We've been very analytical, of late, of life in America, having finally spent time somewhere else where we aren't solely there to work. If you ever want to really upset your thinking, especially if you have some conservative leanings, may I suggest doing 3 things, in this order: 1) Leave the United States...not to a third world country, but to somewhere else in the first world, 2) Read "1984" (or re-read it), and 3) Read "A Brave New World". It really is a fascinating way to entirely re-see life in America. Other parts of the world really don't live like us. As an American doctor who also just moved over here pointed out to me, "Materialism, on the scale you see in the US, is just not possible here". And it's true. We just live on an entirely different scale than they do here...and I think everywhere else too. We don't do thing...after all, we work so much more and don't have time to...we just have things that we've work so hard to get. It's odd that Orwell and Huxley, being post-WWII British writers, both envisioned the inevitability of the dominance of American culture around the world. Orwell, as the Military-Industrial Complex that needs to be fed by constant war, and Huxley, as the mindless pursuit of pleasure through consumerism (All Hail Our Ford!). I won't go into Orwell, as that's bound to piss some people off, but it doesn't take long outside of the US to realized that Huxley wasn't that far off. I've thought of myself as fairly anti-consumerism, but I am a consumer-extraordinaire. High-speed Internet access is a luxury. Cable television? Maybe 5-10% of people have it here. Vegetarianism? This is a supreme luxury when 50% of the average household income is already spent on food, and there is so little that grows here in the wintertime...buy foreign, own enough space to grow your own food indoors, or eat meat.

And I think all of the lack of things that people have here, though calling a lack may be inappropriate, makes people do more. As Zhiling has been seeing, making her rounds in the local Nursing Homes, even 90 year old people still do things...they are walking around outside, enjoy the sun for the 10 minutes that it's out. They are out in the garden. They are out together. Maybe that's the bigger difference, maybe it's not just the doing something, but not having a 120 different channels to watch makes them go outside and see their neighbors, even if it's only to avoid boredom. We just go invited to a "Roof Shout" yesterday, which is somewhat reminiscent of an Amish barn-raising...we didn't actually do anything, but when someone is building a house and their roof goes up, they have a party to invite all the future neighbors over. It's a great idea. Going back to the 90 year old in the nursing homes...that kind of tight community persists; grandma is out playing cards with her friends. Grandpa is down at the RSA (Returning Servicemens' Association) having a drink before he's back to the nursing home. And if he's too decrepit to make it to the RSA, his friends bring a drink in to him (imagine that...drinking in a nursing home)...or the people at the nursing home get together and enjoy each other's company (which is just an odd idea after seeing nursing homes in Boston, where people seem to go to die alone, surrounded by people doing the same).

The transition back is going to be a hard one. Maybe we'll have to find a small town to live in:-)

Anywho, enough angsty rambling. We'll be back and posting on a more happy note later:-)

New Zealand Travel Tip #3: Wash off the fruit you buy at the store...there probably aren't pesticides on it, but who knows what is?

This New Zealand Life

Our blog today, for those fans of "This American Life", comes to you in 3 acts. The first, "Zhiling Misses America", is fairly self-explanatory; the second, "No Pads, No Helmet (no brains), Just Balls", will bring you our tale of the most exciting thing to hit New Zealand since The Lord of the Rings. And the third, "Is That Placenta on Your Hands?", is an entertaining and informative look at life in rural Southland.


ACT I
"Zhiling Misses America"

It is interesting to listen to the news of America from outside of the country. The whole US of A seems to be falling apart in many ways, and there is a certain amount of guilt brought on by being far away while this happens...like the child who lives ten thousand miles away when their nursing-home-bound parent becomes ill.

Zhiling was sitting knitting her wool socks one day (as she has done frequently since moving here), when she realized that she could be listening to something. Now, on occasion before moving out of country, we would listen to "This American Life" or some other podcast from NPR, while on the road or something... And this is what struck her to listen to at that moment. There is something pleasant about listening to Ira Glass and his Midwestern accent talking about everyday life in America...and even more so when you're far away from it. Soon, TAL was playing ALL OF THE TIME. And then, that wasn't enough anymore..."Planet Money" came next..."Talk of the Nation". And oh, goodness, "Science Friday". Zhiling even ventured away from NPR to listen to Peter Jennings on ABC News...but once was enough of that. So now, topics of politics fill our home more than when we actually lived in the country that we were talking about. The Republican nominees all sound either bonkers or have no chance of being elected. Obama...he sounds good when he talks, but can he do anything (we both just watched the jobs speech last night on YouTube)? The economy...what else can you say? Thank God we're in New Zealand, where their dollar will probably equal our own before long. Ahh...but always back to Ira Glass. Always good for a decent story, a good laugh, and some good ole American nostalgia.


ACT II
"No Pads, No Helmets (no brains), Just Balls"

So, we always thought that we were the only country to not call Soccer "Football". NOT TRUE! New Zealand also calls it soccer because if you said football, what you'd be talking about is Rugby. And Rubgy is here in a big way right now. New Zealanders eat, drink, and breath this sport.

For those of you (like us) who have no idea what Rubgy is, think of it like a cross between American Football and Soccer...maybe with a little Hockey involved. Basically, large sweaty men with thick necks all try to get a, basically, football-shaped ball from one side of the field to the other. There is a goal line to run across, and goal posts to kick the ball between. You can run forwards with the ball, but you must pass backwards. You can even pass backwards once you've been tackled...so the action never really stops. One time when the action does come to a halt, is when, for whatever reason (we certainly couldn't figure it out) one decides to form a "Scrum". A scrum seems to be when all of the huge men lock their necks and shoulders against each other and basically push until someone falls over...like Red Rover, but more violent, I suppose.

In any event, the World Cup of Rugby is currently being held in NZ. And this is HUGE. Think of The Olympics coming to every major city in the US all at once. The All Blacks are the team to cheer for. They are New Zealands biggest sports celebrities. We, however, don't actually work with that many native Kiwis (seriously, we've only met one doctor who was born here so far)...and we didn't have hundreds of dollars to buy tickets to see the All Blacks, who only play in Auckland. So Scotland versus Romania was our ultimate World Cup experience. We were finally persuaded to come to this game by a part-time doctor that Zhiling works with who hailed from Scotland. When we arrived, the stadium, being in Invercargill (about the most Scottish sounding name, you could name a city) was a mass of people wearing kilts, playing bagpipes in the streets, and painting their faces with Scottish flags. As we compared our own Scottish heritage, it turns out that Claire, the "Scottish Doctor", was actually 100% Irish, just born in Scotland; Zhiling was, oddly enough, NOT Scottish despite growing up in a town with a Highland Festival (Alma is Scotland USA); this left Paul to be the most "Scottish" because, as Zhiling pointed out, his ancestors were very promiscuous and had gotten up to Scotland at some point in time.

Despite our apparent lack of Scottishness, we cheered for the home favorites, who, amid the crowd of clearly intoxicated men in Kilts and little children spending hours stomping on beer cans, pulled off a victory after a game that was too close for the crowd's comfort at times.




ACT III
"Is That Placenta on Your Hands?"
To round out our weekend, we travelled out to the sheep farm of one of the practice nurses at the GP office. It is Lambing Season in Southland, and lambs are popping out left and right.

After a lovely home-cooked meal with her family, we pulled on our gumboots and Keri and her husband Rich took us out in a trailer attached to a fourwheeler to the sheep pasture (one of many). Here, where the ewes were all giving birth to twins, we attempted to track down a sheep in labour. After several near misses, we found what we were looking for...amniotic sack starting to protrude from the backend of a sheep. Rich, despite his bad back, jumped off his fourwheeler, wielding his sheep-hook (yes, like you see on pictures of Little Bo Peep), and snagged the poor, contracting sheep around it leg, downing it immediately. We watched as two small hooves began to protrude from the poor ewe's backside. While we sat watching, expecting Rich to do his things, Keri suggested that Zhiling get down there and pull the lamb out. So...Zhiling pulled off her coat, rolled up her sleeves, and put her OB-GYN training to use. Lamb legs are very slippery, but after a bit of tugging, out popped a little lamb. But wait, there's more...another head appeared, ready to pop out into the world. Zhiling was instructed to reach on in and pull it out...by the legs...which had not yet appeared. After a bit of fishing around, yes...inside a sheep, and a little help from Rich who reached in flipped the legs around, another a lamb entered the world. We cleaned out its nose and mouth and placed it next to its exhausted mother's head for her to clean the rest of the amniotic sack from it. Awesome.

Aside from bringing new babies into the world, we went around picking up the dead baby lambs who had died the night before, stacking them in our cart...awwwww. We also searched around for orphan lambs who had lost track of their mothers, and those who couldn't feed, and brought them back, either to their mother or to be hand-fed at the farm house. We got a chance to feed these ones later:-)


All-in-all, it's been a pretty "New Zealand" weekend. We feel thoroughly steeped in the culture of the Southlands. It's a small world down here (as we found out at the Rugby game, where we met 2 more people from our hospital that we hadn't planned to come with and saw 4 different patients), and that's kind of nice. Where else would someone from work invite you to go to a Rugby game...or invite you to their sheep farm? Where else would someone you work with (in a hospital, mind you) have a sheep farm?

New Zealand Travel Tip #2: When Lambing: always get the feet out first.

Mud and Waterfalls - The Catlins

This weekend was our anniversary weekend and to celebrate we ventured out into the Catlins. This long stretch of rural land, along the Southern Scenic Route, is filled with many tramps and side attractions.

We were certainly off season during our visit but an interesting experience it was. The scenery was beautiful. Our first stop was Curio Bay where one can see Hector Dolphins (the world's smallest dolphin) and yellow eyed penguins (the world's rarest penguin). We luckily saw none of them but we still were able to enjoy the petrified forest and rugged coastline. It was an ethereal scene with a misty coast and the tide rising along the shadows of Prehistoric past. You could see some of the outlines of Jurassic aged trees in the beach, captured in silica stone. We were able to walk along it and I curiously touched the surface of this rock amazed at the years between us.


We next headed to Mclean Falls for a short tramp through dense rain forest. The trek took us through lush green jungle, and ended with a spectacular view of a young waterfall where you could still see the stratification of different rock layers. We were able to climb quite close to the waterfall itself and were astounded by its grandeur.

After this we went to Purakaunui Falls, which are supposed be renowned as the most photographed waterfall in New Zealand. They were beautiful but somewhat disappointing after Mclean Falls. However, the trail was very short which was a plus during this muddy season.

So speaking of mud, our next tramp was off to Picnic Point in Papatowai. This misty beach is a site where you can free dive for Paua, a very large sea snail found in a shiny shell, that is if you don't mind swimming with the great white sharks which also share the waters.

We were walking along the beach line, and then found this trail called King's Rock. We followed this trail that was in a clear state of disrepair. Obviously winter is not a tourist season. While we walked, Paul made up lots of fairy tales about King's Rock to convince me this was a good idea.

But the further along we got the larger the debris that was found blocking the trail. Whole trees fell across the path; mud pits became quite deep as Paul nearly lost his shoe in one of them. Then the trail seemed to dead end at a fenced cow pasture. We stared at the sign in front of us for a couple minutes, which told us to follow the marking posts THROUGH the pasture. So over the private fence we went, mucking our way through well trodden mud. We spied a number of cows and calves mowing the pasture. As we continued we hoped that neither of us was going to twist an ankle in all these divots in the ground. We finally made our way to the beach, and there sat this huge hunk of rock covered with bushes. Well that's it, it was a rock. We also realized this WAS NOT a loop trail, despite what Paul thought. Arggh.

So back we went through the pastures, over the fence, around the downed trees, shoes thick into sticky mud and finally did we return to the beach at Picnic Point. Luckily there were many native sponges strewn along the ground and we used them well on our shoes to wash off the mud.

After that we decided we had finished tramping for the night and went to the Hilltop Accomodations. In true New Zealand fashion we checked our selves in to our own suite as the owners were not around. It was a quaint hostel, with a great view of the surrounding area. Yes, more sheep dotting the landscape. Gotta love your sheep. We had our dinner of chicken soup and instant noodles. Then off to some well deserved rest and showers.

The next day, we attempted to tramp a bit more. Our first attempt was Possumer's Trail (yes they hunt possum and make them into coats here). This started out well enough, but progressively became more and more like a swamp. We discovered that a good sign of a poorly kept trail is when there is a LARGE tree covering up the trail and mud that you can swim in. I was walking in front of Paul when at the end of one of the boardwalks there was some fairly wet looking ground. I attempted to test it out with my toe, but immediately found myself sucked in foot deep. We later tested it with a stick and I probably could have fallen in to my knees. After the third or fourth set of these mud pools we decided to turn back.

We took the Old Coach Road instead, and enjoyed a trail that followed the coastline. Paul chased some wild cows along the way, no kidding. He brought out his whipping stick and told me he knew how to use it. Hmmm... I later found him digging at the beach sand telling me he was trying to catch the clams. I quickly did a mini-mental status survey, but he seemed to generally be all there, or as much as he usually is.

After this quick tramp, we headed off to Claire's, who is a fellow doctor that works with me at the clinic. She's a Scottish transplant, and her husband who's a native Kiwi. They own a small farmlet in the area. There they have chickens, lambs, cows, and horses. They grow their own vegetables and plan on becoming more self sufficient by canning them. Claire's husband also hunts deer, fishes, dives with paua, and is raising trees to sell for timber.

We had a marvelous home cooked meal and good company. Then we went home.



New Zealand Travel Tip #1: Avoid smooth mud patches on trails (because it is liquid) or wear bigger boots.

Reflecting After a Sad Day...

So practicing for a bit in New Zealand has been eye-opening, horrifying, and refreshing all at once. There is such a vast difference, micro-cosmically speaking, in the medical culture, but also in the culture as a whole. I think that, particularly, coming from large, urban health centers on the East Coast of the US (with such giants in the world as Harvard nearby) has made this transition somewhat dramatic for us. The levels of what are possible, and, even more so, what is expected, are just light-years apart.
We have found the people of New Zealand to be exquisitely pleasant after dealing with, not just patients, but often people in general, in the US. It may just be a small town vs big city phenomenon, or perhaps just us being taken out of the Eastern seaboard where we settled into the relatively cool and distant culture that never quite fit us. But the base level of civility is wonderfully refreshing here. Oh sure...there are certain problems endemic to small towns: a fair bit of drunken brawling, gossiping, etc..., but, generally speaking, we find ourselves somewhat overwhelmed by the friendliness here, sometime even annoyed by it, as we've become so jaded to nice people.
The way that this culture spills over into medical practice has also been nice to see. It's so rare to meet a patient in the US...or at least it seem so...that has pain anything less than a 10 on a scale of 1 to 10; quite often the scale is misunderstood to go on upward from 11 to millions out of 10. And the perception, reasonably or not, is that this pain should be gone. Always. In fact, the US consumes >90% of the worlds hydromorphone supply (roughly 7-8x the potency of morphine). Everyone is always in pain, which may be true...but it wears you out to constantly be dealing with it...it taxes ones compassion. Here, you witness grown men trying to hold back tears after they've had horrible accidents, and their pain is 6 of 10. It really invokes a soft spot in your heart and actually increases the capacity for care to see what is clearly under-reporting. It's just so refreshing to treat pain knowing that there isn't an attempt to get a high off the treatment.
Along with this less ambiguous feeling about treating people, there is just so much more gratitude for what is done, even if it doesn't solve everything. There seems to be an almost baseline assumption that, of course, the doctor is trying their best to help. And that makes all the difference in the world. That, perhaps, is the most gratifying thing. Even in day to day relationships, this seems important. What good relationship doesn't start with the assumption of best intentions? Medicine in the US seems, not always but often, much more antagonistic, and, to quote Radiohead, "It wears me out." I pulled someone's fingernail off that would likely never grow back, and stitched the remaining stump of a finger back together, to try and avoid infection. In the US, there would have been constant second guessing, demeaning comments, and demands to see a specialist who only deals with the fingernail of that finger and hand (granted, I wouldn't have been pulling off fingernails in the US). Instead, I was thanked...and profusely.
The gratitude even extends to when nothing can be done beside making someone comfortable. I love end-of-life care. It is often a wonderful and beautiful thing. But particularly, I think, in large, advanced, urban centers there is this misconception that people are not suppose to eventual die. And if you're the bearer of information that there isn't a cure or a solution or whatever, there is an immediate distrust, and quite often...an unrealistic expectations that the 90 year old, demented patient with no functional organs left should be kept alive on life support because "they're a fighter", which most people are, even though no one would think to torture their pet dog in that way. There seems to a more realistic understanding of life here...that it eventually ends, but that that can still be done in the best way possible...that there is pain, and sometimes it doesn't go away entirely, but you can still do things with your life...that yes, there might be something more that could possible be done, but it's not likely to do good, so you don't have to choose to do it.
It can be horribly frustrating here when you have a healthy 80 year old that should be able to have a surgery that would make the next 10 or 15 years of their life better and no one will do it no matter how much you yell at them. Even more so, it's frustrating when you see younger people hurting or dying because there isn't a specialist available, because there just aren't enough of them, or you can't get them to one on-time for such stupid reasons as the roads a snowed over and the ambulances and helicopters are running. But by and large, it is refreshing to see that people can get on with life even when a doctor didn't make everything better for them...and even still find gratitude for what that doctor did do.

Dolamore Park and Bacon

We made a recent visit to one of the local parks in Gore - namely Dolamore Park. We were surprised to find that it was quite an expansive area to explore. Great for day hikes. Multiple 1-3hr tramps. We decided to take on Whiskey Creek and then Hidden Valley trail. The Whiskey Creek Trail was a heavily forested and prolonged uphill track with lots of large trees, virtually empty of any people. We were reminded of the Lord of the Rings. Paul said he would be Faramir but wished to be more Sam Gamgee-like, while Zhiling ventured more towards Bilbo-esque qualities. In terms of evil characters Paul was Saruman, and Zhiling was the Balrog. Awesome.

The scenery quickly shifted to Jurassic Park as we ventured into Hidden Valley. The trail narrowed and sometime disappeared, and heavy undergrowth of prehistoric ferns obscured the land. What trail remained was muddy and steeply descending. Paul fell on his ass several times. Zhiling watched as she let him lead (and perhaps relied on him ..very few times.. to help carry her across muddy ways). It was entirely gorgeous.. the forest.. not the falling.

Fortunately our tramping was well timed, and we got home before the snow began that day. The weather here is truly schizophrenic.

On a side note, they always talk of the mutton in New Zealand, and we found that dairy is actually more prevalent. But the true treasure of New Zealand (per Paul) is B-A-C-O-N. It started with an innocent pack of bacon bought by our future employers on our arrival. But soon the Baconlust was upon Paul; now nightly as Zhiling sleeps, Paul arises from slumber with the hunger that only Bacon can satisfy. Sultry fatty strips, fried to gorgeous salty perfection. The fat-engorged thick slices melt slowly in the mouth, taking on the consistency that they will remain in the arteries (no wonder everyone here has hypertension and heart disease...totally worth it). The Baconlust is strong...Mom and Dad, when you travel down here in January...bring silver bullets.

Welcome to New Zealand

Paul and I are settling in to our new place in Gore, New Zealand. It's been a fairly pleasant experience all around. After a frustrating flight - which included plane delays, lost luggage, and possible engine failure we made our way across the Pacific in once piece and got picked up by the CEO of the hospital at Invercargill. He took us out for dinner, and drank some beer. And we even got a fruit basket and a bouquet of flowers to welcome us as we arrived at the motel that we would be staying at for a couple days.

Gore is a small town of around 12-15,000 people. Many people here have jobs in the farming and/or dairy industry. The one thing I remembered learning about New Zealand was the greater number of sheep to people ratio in this country. And now seeing the huge rolling hills, sheep herds dotting the scenery it is a beautiful truth out here.

The weather is a bit odd to get used to as its winter here, and basically its kindof like Seattle where it just keeps on raining, snowing, or even hailing intermittently but then the sun pops out, and everything dries or melts within a couple hours.

We got set-up in a furnished house just about 4-5 blocks away from the hospital. So just a 10 minute walk to work. It's like grandma's house with multiple random knick knacks and 70's furniture. All the houses in the Southland seem to be notorious for the lack of central heating as it hasn't seemed yet caught on here. So we have multiple space heaters throughout the house to keep us warm in the evenings.

Paul and I have become meatatarians lately as the grocery shops and prices here are likely reflective of our areas industry. Beef, lamb, cheese, and mmm... bacon are quite plentiful. Vegetables are horrifically expensive at least during these winter months, and we saw tomatoes priced as high as $17.00 per kg. Ouch! Besides that we've eaten a lot of Cadbury chocolates, as one of the primary factories and birth centers of Cadbury started in Dunedin, NZ just about 2 hours from here.


Oh yes and we are working. Paul and I are working at the same health facility. The community hospital along with the clinic are attached to each other. The hospital itself is a 16 bed hospital with an emergency room (known as the A and E, accident and emergency) center. The clinic I'm in has been around for ages, though recently acquired by Gore Health from the previously established Dr. Park, who as gossip goes was a 'Workhorse' and his patients grew old with him so large geriatric population.

Currently the GP's at the health center are somewhat transient as Gore Health is still establishing their GP practice. 3 doctors currently at the practice, a South African doctor who's been in practice for 40+ years from Pretoria, but came out here as a semi-favor to the health center to maintain our numbers for patient visits, a previous Scottish locums now NZ resident who's part time, and myself.

So we're a multicultural crew with multiple accents. What's been nice about the Health center is the support staff are well skilled and helpful! My patient numbers have definitely doubled up to 23 patients per day though paperwork is definitely a lot less.

Medical issues i've seen include lots of group A strep, they don't have rapid strep tests here. Saw this gal who had a scarlatina rash but no sore throat or URI symptoms but ended up having sky high ASO titer who would have known. Paul's pulling contaminated nails out of a farmer's hand who got it caught between a cow horn and a fence, seeing acute abdomens, and freaking out that he'll see a pregnant woman or acutely ill child in the middle of the night (but if you're a doctor, you can do anything, right?).

Paul and I are planning several tramping (hiking) trips around the area. We've been to Bluff the oldest town in New Zealand, ate raw oysters, hiked along the southern coastline, visited the Cadbury factory in Dunedin(saw 1 ton of liquid chocolate fall 2 stories down a silo, known as the chocolate waterfall), and accosted goats to take their pictures along the sides of country roads after hiking on a nearby mountain.