NZ 7

One month left.

August has been spent working and living much the same as I have thus far in my stay, minus the rugby. As of Friday, August 26th, I have finished working at Redwood Cider, and have entered the last phase of my time in New Zealand: Roadtrip.

Things that happened since last time:

• WE WON THE CHAMPIONSHIP!!!
• Celebrated our win with multiple days of drinking.
• Third Hog died.
• Saw the new Star Trek
• Ate some wonderful dinners
• Bought All Blacks tickets
• Moved
• Said bye to Vancy Pants
• Found where Shadowfax lives.
• Got in trouble with the forklift
• Finished playing Final Fantasy 10. "You'll cry, you're gonna cry, you always cry."
• I cried
• Listening to Lord of the Rings audiobooks
• Bought some souvenirs for people
• Rode a bicycle
• Went fishing
• Worked out some
• Reading Richie McCaw's book
• Chopped firewood
• Went diving
• Ate enchiladas
• Paid someone to clean my room
• Swam with a shark
• Saw a vacuum do everything but clean the carpet
• Finished To Zanarkand on the piano
• Pondered some big decisions
• Survived kangaroo court
• Watched a man fall into a fire
• Dressed up as Donald Trump
• Scored a couple tries
• Watched a poncho-wearing horse roll around on its back in front of a cow. The cow was unimpressed.

Video Recap

Roadtrip

I decided I needed a vacation from my vacation.

Today I am setting off on the roadtrip of a lifetime.
I've rented a sweet ass car, filled my hiking pack, borrowed a tent and portable barbecue, and now it's time to roll. I have a tentative route I am going to be following, but beyond that there isn't much of a plan.
I have mapped out roughly 30 locations/spots that I would like to visit throughout the country, and I will have about 31 days to see them all.
Not every location will require a full day's worth, and many can be done in the same day, while others may require multiple days to fully explore.

Since there is no schedule, I will be just going with the flow. If I like a particular town, I may spend the whole day there - on the other hand, if a particular spot isn't that great, I'll keep driving on to the next destination.
I'll be staying at campsites or in my car for most nights, and I'll stop at the occasional hostel for a change of pace now and then - and a shower.

I will be departing from Nelson by September 1st. By September 17th I will be in Christchurch to watch the All Blacks play South Africa (!!!). By October 3rd, I will
be in Auckland boarding my flight home. Beyond those three dates, everything else is open to interpretation.

Various activities along the way will include: Going to an All Blacks game, hiking to a glacier, hiking Mount Doom, visiting Hobbiton, bungee jumping, kayaking, skydiving, ferry rides, assorted Lord of the Rings sites, notable restaurants, and....you get the point.
I've also bought a Lord of the Rings location book, so I can visit different sites from various scenes in the movies. Too cool.

I'll be spending the first 18 days or so on the South Island, starting by going down the West Coast, then circling back up to Dunedin, Mt. Cook, and then Christchurch.
Then I'll take the ferry to Wellington and bus up the North Island for about 10 days, eventually making my way to Auckland where I will visit for a day or so, then hop on a plane and come home.

To give some perspective, New Zealand is rougly 65% of the size of California, yet even more scenic - yes, more scenic. So just imagine taking 4 weeks to explore California by yourself, going wherever, doing whatever, whenever you please.
Yes.




Any suggestions on entertainment that a person might appreciate while living in a car for 4 weeks, send them my way.
There will be tons for me to do during the days and such, but I am anticipating plenty of downtime in which I will surely want something to occupy myself with.
I'd wager that I'll be writing a lot more during my trip, but that can only go so far.

I'm essentially going on another adventure with a bunch of cool things to do and see.


This is going to be...glorious.

Rover, Wanderer, Nomad, Vagabond, call me what you will....  (yeaaahh!)

Twenty Games Later...

The Wanderers are officially back-to-back Nelson Cup champions!!!!

It was one hell of an exciting, tense, rollercoaster ride of a game, and we came out on top 19-17 in the final.

Unfortunately I watched the game from the bench, but that's alright; I'm satisfied that I contributed to the success that helped bring us to the finals.

After the game we partied pretty hard for the next 2 days, starting Saturday night and finishing up on Monday night.
We went back to our clubrooms after the game and opened up a $1500 tab for the players, so we drank for free the whole night - closest thing to a VIP booth I've ever had.

Chugging beer from the trophy

After getting loosened up at the clubrooms, we hit the town and partied deep into the night.
We met back up at the clubrooms the following morning and continued the festivities with a keg of delicious berry cider and a keg of high percentage beer.
By around 9pm on Sunday night I finally turned in, due to having work the next day - I work at a cidery, so hair of the dog abounds.
But after work on Monday night, I met back up with the boys and continued the celebrations.
Monday night was the end, as we finally called it quits and returned to our adult lives on Tuesday.
It was a pretty wild ride - I witnessed some things that were truly...memorable, to say the least. And disgusting.


Looking back on the season.

I could not realistically have asked for a better situation than the one I fell into here.
The things I've learned and incorporated into my game while being here will make a significant impact on my play when I come back home.
I won't come back any bigger or faster, but I am a hell of a lot smarter and can play the game at a much quicker pace than ever before.
I see so many more things now, little intricacies and nuances that are hard to pinpoint, but ones that can make a huge difference in my play.


I started the season wondering if I even belonged on the A team, thinking I might be better suited playing with the B team.
After our first preseason game, our team manager told me I played well and fought hard, but I would likely be playing for the Bs for the rest of the season.
Okay, I didn't come here to stroke my ego, I came here to get better. If I need to play Division 2, then so be it.
Maybe I wasn't good enough to make the A team.

Throughout the season, there were times when I was tempted to give up and just play for the Bs - thank the As coaches for their time, and go to where I belonged.
I wouldn't need to train as hard, and I could relax and not have to worry about whether or not I was slowing the team down.

There's no shame in playing down a level, it's still good rugby with plenty of quality players to compete against. The Division 2 level here is roughly equivalent to Division 1 Mens club in the States, which is still pretty good for me.
It would be a nice, comfortable decision.

I'll be honest, in the middle of the season I asked my coach for permission to play with the Bs if I wasn't going to be starting with the As. It wasn't a pride thing, I just wanted to get playing time regardless of what team I played on.

Excuse my language, but fuck that.

I didn't come from half way across the world just to sit on a bench.

I hit a point in the season where I was tired of being the 2nd flanker on the bench, and I was determined to do something about it. I might not beat out the two starters, but I could damn well be the first guy off the bench.
I stepped up my fitness, studied more game film, watched more Richie McCaw, and flat out hardened up. I knew who I had to beat in fitness drills, so I started beating them. It may be a little cutthroat, but that kind of competition not only makes me better, it makes the team better.
When the moment came for my number to be called, I'd make sure I'd be ready to play my heart out.

My time came sooner than I thought it would.

Due to a few unfortunate injuries - it should be noted I would never wish for a teammate to get hurt - I was given the opportunity to compete for a starting spot for much of the season.
When you're given lemons, make lemonade.

By the end of the season, I had:
Started in 10 of our 20 games.
Managed to make the squad of 22 players every week.
Scored 5 tries.
Gotten on the field every game, minus the two finals.
Been mentioned in Man of the Match proceedings twice.
Elevated my game to another level.

When I write it down, it doesn't seem like all that much. However, this in no way reflects how much I have grown and taken away from this season.

I had a few goals coming into this season:

Get better: Check, check, and check.
Score a try: Check
Get off the ground faster: Check. Still not perfect, but progress was made.
Win Most Improved Player Award: Nope. Didn't get this one, but the fella who did, Ethan Reuben, surely deserved it.
Make the First 22 every week: Check.
Learn more strategy: Check.

Five out of six isn't too bad, and I'm quite proud of the progress I've made in my time here.

In all, it was an incredible experience that I will not soon forget.
I've made some lasting friendships, improved my rugby, and seen what it's like to play at the next level.
I've learned how to play the game at a much faster pace, which will be a huge advantage when I come back home.
I was privileged to play with some top level players who are truly talented and committed to the game, and their prowess has given me something to strive toward. It was humbling for me to come to a place where I was no longer one of the strongest players, and it has done me a world of good.
I've found so many more ways to keep progressing my ability as a rugby player, and have learned how to implement those changes.

The next step: Come home and test my skills.
I'm in the process of landing myself in a club in the US that can help me progress as a player and continue to grow in my rugby.
I'd love to play professionally and eventually try cracking the USA Eagles if given the chance. These goals are a bit lofty, but I have some pretty strong rugby minds backing me, and they've given me the confidence to take what I want.
I have these goals and dreams that I am chasing, and the time has come for me to start pursuing them in earnest.

Rest easy, Beasty

In Memory of Third Hog: May you tear up pavement in heaven, as you did on earth.
 Ride on, Third Hog, ride on.

It's true what they say, you never forget your first.

Everyone tried to tell us we weren't right for each other - haters gonna hate.

She's too expensive.

Get one more reliable.

She's had lots of previous riders.

Isn't she a bit old?

She dumped you once, she'll dump you again.


But I knew they were all wrong.

Our union was not one of speed or showmanship - that wasn't our style.
No, it was one of raw carnage.


Gravel in the road? Take it head on. If we fall, we get back up.

Shortcut through a vineyard? Let's see them catch us.

Ford flooded and impassable? Dive in head first.

Cyclist hogging the lane? Hog our dust.

Icy road? Who fears ice when mounted upon a steed of fire and fury?

To be so quickly adopted into the Hog den and then proceed to raise the bar to new, undiscovered heights... - the unprecedented had become reality.

Third Hog
Travis Haugen
We even had the same initials.

Third Hog has ruined me for all motorcycles to come.


A few weeks back, I was riding Third Hog back from a game when she started to sputter and choke because I forgot to flip the fuel switch back on.
No biggie, this has happened plenty of times.
I pulled over, switched the fuel on, kicked the starter and....nothing.
I kicked a few times, and still got nothing. I'd been having trouble getting her started recently, but I figured that was just because it had been getting real cold lately - not due to a catastrophic problem.

I gave her a few minutes to catch her breath, whispered some encouraging words, and then gave her another kick - still nothing. Little did I know, she would never roar again.

After a few more tries, I gave up and walked her the remaining mile home.

Two days later I took her into the shop, where the mechanic was becoming well-acquainted with Third Hog, as I'd had to bring her in for numerous visits over the past months.

It took 3 days of tinkering and fiddling to finally figure out that Third Hog had a crack in her motor, which explained the lack of compression when I tried to kickstart her.
A new motor would cost more than Third Hog herself, and considering I only have a short time left in New Zealand, it just wasn't meant to be.
I had to let Third Hog go.



She rode her heart out - quite literally. She may have been old and more than a little tired, but she never complained once. Heart of a Lion.

She kept ripping and roaring
through vineyards and valleys,
dominating highways and hillocks,
heeding neither caution nor care.

She soldiered on without a word, and only until the last moment, when she could go
no further, did her heart break - a crack caused not by age or mistreatment, but one caused by a long, full life of living wild and free.

Third Hog's heart, pictured here as found in the autopsy

Her memorial service was beautiful.

Sweet dreams, you wonderful beast.

How much horsepower did she have?
Couldn't tell ya.

We only recognize Hogpower.

What I imagine Third Hog is doing in heaven

The Man Cave

I moved out of my flat near the rugby field and into the Man Cave at Ant and Stacey's house, where I had been living up until today.

If you'll recall, Ant is the guy responsible for bringing me out to Nelson and along with keeping tabs on me throughout my stay here, he is responsible for most of the adventures you have seen in my videos - white water rafting, fishing, mountain biking, etc.

Vance, my fellow American, moved out of the Man Cave a few weeks ago to return to the States - too early - so Ant and Stacey graciously offered me the opportunity to take his place (replace him).

I quickly accepted.

The Man Cave is just that - a Man Cave.
It is separate from the main house, similar to a guest house, providing the required minimum distance from responsibility that is necessary for any Man Cave.
Complete with a bar, a dart board, a TV equipped with surround sound, two couches, a lazy boy chair, and a fireplace.
The Man Cave is pretty sweet.
Chuck an air mattress down in the middle of everything and you have my living arrangement.

There are no bathroom facilities, but the edge of the front porch serves just fine for most purposes.
The fireplace is my only means of heating the room, but when done correctly, it is more than sufficient. Plus I get to be all manly and go chop firewood and then bring it inside to heat my living space. I'm like the Bear Grylls of middle class suburbia.
I am currently sitting on a leather lazy boy chair across from the fire, listening to music on the surround sound while I write, watching the embers burn low before bed. It's pretty great.

The primary reason for me moving here was so I could save on rent and use the extra money on my roadtrip around New Zealand.
The secondary reason for me mvoing here is because it's awesome.

Perks:
No rent.
Full access to the kitchen.
Amazing dinners.
Amazing leftovers.
Best shower ever.
Rides to work.
Lots of activities.
Did I mention dinners?

When my motorcycle died a while back, Ant graciously lent me his bicycle so I could still get to work. It's about a 10 mile ride one-way, which takes about an hour - because I'm slow.

Now that I live with Ant, the guy gets up early each morning to drive me to work so I don't have to ride in the bitter winter cold. We strap the bike on the back of the car so I can take it to work and ride home when I'm done - the Hogs love a good stretch after a long day's work anyway, so this is perfect.

You might be asking yourself, "What does this Ant fella get out of this?"

Good question

While I'd like to think my company is that highly sought after, so much so that people will feed and board me for free in order to gain access to it, the rational side of my brain is telling me that's probably not the case.

So, in order to try and pull my weight around the house, I provide:

• Someone to blame farts on.
• Assistance with dishes.
• 24/7 babysitting availability.
• Assistance with various chores.
• Endless compliments on all food prepared and eaten within the house.

I know, I do a lot.

The truth is, Ant and Stacey are just awesome people who enjoy helping me make the most of my overseas experience. I'm sure I've made a dent in their food budget, and I've certainly helped myself to my fair share of firewood/kindling. I'm still working on a way to pay these two back, but it's going to be pretty tough. It's kinda like paying back your parents - you know you owe them, but you can't really do much besides show your appreciation for everything and hope they don't kick you out.

 I'll figure something out.





It's well past time I finally put this blog out there, so I'll just wrap things up and pump out the next one in a more timely fashion - seeing as I'll be living in a car with nothing more to do than read books and hike stuff, this should be no problem.
I'm already behind as it is, so I'll just say THANKS and hope that you enjoyed reading. Next one coming soon.


Wild!

NZ 6 - Six Months and Counting

The little line under my right eye is my new scar.

SIX MONTHS!?

It blows me away to think I've been in New Zealand for over 6 months already.
Seven, actually.
I've recently spent some time thinking about some of the seemingly minuscule, yet incredibly formative events that led to me living across the entire world, playing rugby and having a great time. But, more on that later. For now, have some updates and a video.

Things that have happened:

• Friends threw a Memorial Day reunion party without me.
• Attended multiple Memorial Day reunion parties via Snapchat.
• Decided to grow my hair out real long.
• Playing the Star Wars version of DnD.
• Went on another bike ride.
• Fell off another bike.
• Watched Shawshank Redemption - quite good.
• Clutch cable on my motorcycle broke.
• Went on one of the coolest hikes of my life.
• Decided long hair was stupid and got a haircut.
• Sang some songs.
• Dropped a spoon into a fermentation tank - that's not code for sex, I actually dropped a spoon.
• Addicted to Final Fantasy X again. It's a video game, not porn.
• Washing machine broke.
• Freeze my ass off riding to work every morning.
• Had a roommate barbecue/picnic at the beach.
• Rugby club bought me new cleats.
• Cleaned my room again.
• Our frying pan disappeared after a night of drinking.
• Played some rugby

Video Update

Here we go again..

Once again, I have cut my face open. We can't really call it a rugby season unless I've been to the ER, right?
Except that one year where I finished off my college career with a really awesome season. No ER trips that year...

My beard is EXTRA red from the blood

Once again, I've hurt myself in a non-contact drill, and this time it was at practice. I just hated the drill we were doing so much, that I decided to headbutt my teammate's face and get a free pass.

You should see the other guy...
No, seriously, you should see him.
He's fine, it's total bullshit.
My cheek is wide open and he's just got a little bump.
When I got back to the team club room, he laughed and told me, "Something to remember me by!"

When we collided faces, I put my hand up to my cheek where we hit, and saw a bit of blood on my hand.
Not to be a dick, but I was really hoping it was his blood somehow. I've bled enough, let it be someone else this time.
Nope.

As soon as I realized my face was bleeding, I had two thoughts:
1. Shit, probably won't get to play this weekend. (Wrong, I totally did)
2. SHIT, I'm gonna miss team dinner tonight. NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Me trying to look tough

If you're worried I am making America look soft, what with my weak ankles and paper-thin skin, know that I too share your concern.
But, know this, America: I played in our next game less than 48 hours later. Throw some tape and vaseline on that beezy, and let's rock.
Can't stop those Hogs.

Glue, butterfly stitches, gauze, tape, and vaseline. Game ready.

When I got called back to get treated in the ER, I took at look at the clock and said, "Doctor, if there is any way to make this go as quickly as possible, I'd sure appreciate it. I'm missing the team feed, but I may still be able to make it if we hurry."

The doctor replied, "Well, we'll see if we can glue it back. It's better for the scar anyway, and is way faster than stitching it up. How's that?"

I whispered,"I only pray there's still time."

She didn't numb me up or anything. No cleaning solution, no dabbing it dry - which always hurts - and no digging around in it for fun. Why do they always dig?

I can only hope that she did plan to numb me up if I was going to get stitches. I might have looked tough up until that point, but if they were going to stitch me up without any pain meds, that's probably where I would have broken the facade.
She just slapped on some butterfly stitches and then poured glue over it.
Coulda done it at home!

In the end, I did make it back to the club room in time for team dinner, AND dessert. I only spent 45 minutes in the ER (amazing) and didn't have to pay a cent. Susie, the same wonderful woman who bought me the baking pans, drove me to the hospital instead of attending her Thursday night pub quiz. Her one condition was that I not show my mother any pictures of the wound.... well, I never agreed to that condition, so I can't say I really broke it. If I had agreed, then I definitely would have broken it. In fact, the opening of my video - where I am showing Mom the blood on my face - was shot in the car while Susie drove me home.




The Complication

Medical super glue is great - faster healing, better scar, more durable, no needles, and it takes 2 minutes.

HOWEVER

It does deprive the patient of one very desirable perk, if not the only perk:

Answering the question, "How many stitches?"

When we get hurt, it doesn't feel good. We have to go to the ER, sit around, get cleaned out, get sewn back together, and then go back home. And since rugby practice is always during the week, we usually have to go to work the next day looking like Frankenstein's monster.

The ONE cool part about disfiguring your face, the part that almost makes it worth it, is when people say, "Oooh, how many stitches is that??"


It's a beautiful moment. For one whole second you have them and their undivided attention, eating out of your hand, begging to know how many stitches went into your face - their incessant, vampiric need to experience tragedy vicariously must be sated.

This is the best part.

You get to answer all nonchalant and say something cool like, "Eh, just 14".

They say, "Damn, that's a lot!" and then launch into some story about a friend of a friend who had 54 stitches and blah blah blah, nobody cares....

It's all part of the ritual, and it is a very important part of the recovery story.



Not with glue.

People see the bandage over my face, ask what happened, and then the inevitable question:
"How many stitches?"

"Uhh...well, they glued it back together, so no stitches.."


How LAME is that answer!?
GLUE!?
It makes it sound like something a 6-year-old could do with a bottle of non-toxic Elmers.

After explaining that there aren't any stitches, people give this sort of confused, disappointed look, and then say, "Oh, okay..."

It totally sucks. I get one small perk - to be asked how many stitches got sewn into my face -from destroying my face and further reducing my chance to meet women  and now I don't even get that.
It's outrageous.

If glue is going to become the new standard for most cuts, then we need to develop a measurement system so patients can brag to their friends and coworkers about how much glue it took to close up their wounds.

"Ouch. How many Elmers-units did it take?"
"Like, three, bro. It was huge."

This is 2 weeks after the cut....I seem to only tackle with my right eye.

I've managed to take a shot to the eye in every game since my trip to the ER. The cut has held up fine, that glue is super strong. Having a black eye 5 weeks in a row gets old after a while though..

How Did I Wind Up Here?

Earlier I mentioned I had done some thinking about some of the events that landed me here in New Zealand, right now.

This isn't some Butterfly Effect thing, where we look at every single action I've ever done and how it changes all my future timelines. That only leads to headaches.

I'm not going to go back incredibly far and try to link up the trillions of different avenues my life could have taken. Instead I've come up with just a few that have happened in the last few years, and have directly impacted my decision to travel.
Any one of these little events could have gone just SLIGHTLY different, and would likely have resulted in me being somewhere else completely different in my life.


I've arranged them in semi-chronological order, which seemed to make the most sense for this.


Recruited to play rugby

First and foremost, if I were not playing rugby, none of this would have happened. As you'll soon see, a number of the events that happened to bring me here are through rugby - and rightly so, it's a huge part of my life.

If I had not been recruited to play rugby in high school, not one bit of this would be the same. For that, I owe Jason Crothers and Manasa Kikau Sr.

Crothers was the coach of the rugby team at my high school, and Mr. Kikau is the Fijian father of one of my best friends, and also helped with the rugby team.

One night, Crothers decided to go to one of our football games to watch some of his ruggers play another sport. During the game, he noticed #11 on the field (me), and said, "I want that guy on my rugby team" - I know this because he's since told me this story multiple times. He spoke to Mr. Kikau, whose sons were on the football team with me, and asked him to have a chat with me. Mr. Kikau was a man that I respected, and still do, and when he asked me to consider playing this game I'd never heard of, I took his words very seriously.
Two months later I stepped onto the rugby pitch and my heart was stolen almost instantly - the rest is history.

To this day, Crothers claims he's never recruited another player to come and play rugby. Whether or not that's completely true, it speaks to the incredible change that resulted from one man's seemingly inconsequential decision to come watch a high school football game on a Friday night. He wasn't there with the intention to recruit someone, he just decided to go.

Now, what if he had decided to stay at home and watch TV that night? What if I was sick and couldn't play that night?
It could be argued that my friends who played rugby might have convinced me to play anyway, but who knows if that would have really stuck. The fact that some coach from a sport I'd never even seen, wanted me to come play rugby just because he liked the way I played football...that's pretty crazy.
Nine years later, here I am playing rugby in New Zealand for a team that is gunning for the championship for the second year in a row.


Next, we have my meeting with Adam Macrae. 

Adam was an assistant coach for the Sac State rugby team in my freshman year, primarily working with the A-side backs. At the time, I didn't have a whole lot of connection with Adam, due to the fact that I was a freshman on the B-side, playing in the forwards.
After that first year, a new head coach took over and Adam was no longer coaching us.

Three years later, our head coach left the team. As team captain, the responsibility fell on me to find a new coach for our club. My first move was to ask some of the assistant coaches and former assistants if they would like to come back or at least help us find someone. During my calls, when I brought up Adam's name, I was told he was not interested.
Not knowing Adam very well at the time, I took this as a definitive answer, and did not bother to call the man myself to see if he wanted the job.
I continued phoning alumni and reaching out to the greater rugby community looking for a coach, but with no luck. Or perhaps, fantastic luck.
Two weeks later, I heard through the grapevine that Adam was upset he hadn't been approached for the job. He had coached the team before, he was a Sac State Rugby alumni, so why didn't he get a phone call?

When I called Adam, he told me he might be interested in taking on the position, but he was offended we had not already reached out to him. I explained that I had been told he wasn't interested, and apologized for my lack of follow up.
At the time, Adam was coaching an At-Risk youth rugby team in Elk Grove, and when we realized I would be the referee at their next game, we decided to chat afterward.

After the game was done, Adam took me to lunch at a nearby restaurant and we discussed the proposition of him becoming our new coach.

Two weeks later, Macrae stepped on the Sac State field and kicked off the best 3 years of rugby in my life. He's been a fantastic coach and a great friend ever since.

Part of the significance of meeting Adam comes from his influence on my rugby career, as well as the connections he has helped me make.
Part 1: He turned me into a more dynamic player and gave me the confidence to go test my skills in the best rugby country in the world.
He had played a season in New Zealand back in his day, and kept saying how great of a place it was. "Travis, you should go there." He said it quite a few times.
He also said, "The women are a bit English-looking, but don't worry, the rugby is amazing."

Part 2: He introduced me to Will Beck, who was a crucial link in a chain of connections that got me out to New Zealand. More on that below.


The Failed Fiji Trip

During a roadtrip to celebrate our friends' graduations, myself, Manasa and Matt decided to take a trip to Fiji for an indefinite amount of time. We were inspired by Dan the Man, Ela's dad, and his stories of traveling the world in the 70s, and we decided we couldn't miss out. At the time, we were all single, some of us were finishing college - except those of us on the 6 year plan - and we wanted adventure.

The idea of the trip kept growing over the next few months, and we started laying the groundwork plans.
Manasa is from Fiji and has family out there who would take us in for our stay, as long as we helped out around the farm a few days a week.
We'd wait until we all - Trav - finished college, and then we'd go. We still had roughly two years to wait before the trip, so patience was the key.

The planning had its speedbumps along the way - we got jobs, girlfriends, responsibilities, and so forth. As the first year passed, it started to seem that our trip was fading away.
At some point, the trip died entirely.

Then, in October of 2014, the trip was back on: I'd just broken up with my girlfriend, and my newfound freedom needed to be exercised.
I was going to Fiji, damn it, and those assholes were coming with me.
I rallied the troops, brought in Zatchy and Sean, and damn near forced everyone to commit. No bullshit excuses, no girlfriend nonsense, no more pussy-footing around.

Fiji was back on.

We created a Facebook group and everything, to post links and travel ideas for the group to look over. We were doing it. Fiji was happening.
Our rallying battlecry was, "FIJI!"
I know, very imaginitive.

Months later, in early 2015, as we conversed via Skype-call which plane ticket we were going to book right then, right at that very moment, the Fiji trip died in its tracks.
Manasa couldn't go.

I'm done guilt tripping Manasa about this, as we have certainly let him have it. Poor guy.
The reason this is all so important isn't because we hate Manasa forever now. For some reason, we still like you, Sauce.

This Fiji trip was important because it had me so keyed up to go and live in another country for a while.
I was at the point of no return, I wasn't going to take no for an answer.
So when it turned out that Fiji wasn't going to happen, I just decided I'd go somewhere else.

Matt and I chatted about possible options, and in an offhand comment he mentioned working in New Zealand during the vineyard season.
For some reason that comment resonated with me, and when I combined it with the thought of playing rugby, the idea grew.

A couple months later, I booked a ticket to New Zealand.

If we had gone through with our Fiji plan, I would have gotten my travel fix and likely wouldn't have thought to go anywhere else. Especially not New Zealand. I would have seriously missed out.

And no offense to the fellas, but now I realize it's better that I've come out here on my own. Personally I needed it, and selfishly it's much simpler traveling alone.

The point is, if there hadn't been that one little hitch in our plans, we would have gone to Fiji and never looked back. Now, I'm here in New Zealand and quite satisfied that we never made it to Fiji.

For the record, I still think we should do the Fiji trip, guys. Maybe when we're all in our 40s and divorced we'll finally have the balls to get up and go. Mid-life crisis Fiji trip sounds pretty good.





Will Beck

Above I mentioned that I met Will through Adam. I won't waste time trying to describe Will Beck, because you just have to meet the guy, there's no way I'd capture him here.

Will is one of those guys who knows EVERYONE, and everyone likes him.
I met Beck 3 years ago on a trip to the Aspen Ruggerfest, when he boarded our plane at the last minute, with an introduction from the stewardess over the loudspeaker, dressed as Where's Waldo.
Along with such characters as Adam, Erik Hernandez, Mike Dopson, and Ryan Carr...this was going to be a weekend for the books.
Probably the best single weekend of my life.

Why is this trip important in the story of me coming to New Zealand? Because amidst all the partying, wild costumes, shenanigans, and ridiculous rugby play, I forged a good connection with Will (and the others).

Two years later at the end of my college rugby career, before passing out in my own puke at a bar in Denver, Colorado, I told Will that I wanted to play rugby abroad.
Being the guy that knows everyone, Will very kindly sent out a ton of emails to all his contacts about this kid - me - who wanted to go play rugby elsewhere.

Within two weeks, Will sent me a list of at least twenty conversations he'd had regarding me playing rugby somewhere overseas. I'd told him I wanted to focus on New Zealand, but Australia would be cool too. (For the record, New Zealand is way cooler than Aus. Ever seen Flight of the Conchords?)

In the end, it was Will who put me in touch with Ants Holder, through a friend of a friend, and Ant is the man who placed me here in Nelson with the Wanderers, where I am currently having the time of my life.

But really, think about that. Through a friend of a friend? That kind of connection is tenuous at best, but it WORKED! Any one of those guys in that chain of communication could have decided to disregard their email inbox and never would have heard a word about me. Think about how easily that could have happened. Who reads their emails, AND responds to them!?



Good Timing

In the wake of the Fiji failure, I had steeled myself to go out on an adventure no matter what, and I told myself I was going to leave for New Zealand right after graduation, in June or July 2015.

Well, as usual, plans changed.

A little over a year ago, I met a pretty fantastic girl, and while it never grew into anything too serious, I'd decided I wanted to see where it was going before I ran off across the world.
I hadn't booked any flights or committed to any apartment leases yet, so I could still be flexible with my plans.
I figured I had the best of both worlds, really:
I'd take the time to see how things panned out with this beauty of a woman; and if our relationship decided to progress, then fantastic, I'd be a fool to not continue pursuing it.
If not, I'd run off to New Zealand like I originally planned.
Not a bad Plan B, really.
For better or worse, things did not work out in the end with myself and this girl. It's a shame, but life isn't always perfect.

So, here I am living "Plan B", and I gotta say: It's pretty good.

Where the timing comes into play:

If I had left when I originally wanted to, in June, two things would have been drastically different:

• I wouldn't have stayed to work at Kaiser for the 2015 summer, missing out on a great opportunity, and I would have never heard about a little diving program called Coral Cay in the Philippines.
•  I would have arrived here at the tail end of the rugby season, and would have had to sit around for 4 months waiting for things to start back up.

Instead, because I delayed my trip, I found out about a great diving program in the Philippines and spent 3 months in paradise diving with turtles, swimming with whale sharks, and writing blogs on a beach.
Those are three months I'll never forget, and will likely go on to influence the rest of my life.




Moral of the Story

Things always work out for the best. There are two ways to subscribe to that statement.
Whether there is some invisible hand guiding us, or we as a species are just that good at adapting to and accepting our circumstances - either way, it all works out.



Still, it's crazy to think:


What if I had played badly on that night the rugby coach came to watch our football game? Would he have have noticed me? Would I even be playing rugby?  I shudder at the thought....

So many things could have happened differently with bringing Adam Macrae on board as the Sac State coach. What if he never took an interest in me as a player? I wouldn't have tried playing rugby abroad, that's for sure.

What if we had gone to Fiji after all? I never even would have thought about going to play rugby in New Zealand, let alone anywhere. The failure of that trip forced me to stand up and make something for myself.

I almost decided going to Aspen for a weekend would be too expensive. What if I had decided that? I wouldn't know Will Beck, and I wouldn't be here in Nelson, New Zealand. Simple as that.

What if that girl hadn't given me reason to delay my plans for a while? I would never have gone to the Philippines, I never would have met Zoe the Turtle, I would not be a certified Divemaster, and I wouldn't have met all those crazy rascals I lived with on base for 3 months (hey guys!)


If any one of those situations had even gone slightly different, I wouldn't be learning to say "mate" instead of "dude" and getting to use the C-word because it's not offensive here...

Third Hog Update

Third Hog never fails to add surprises and excitement to my life. Last week her clutch cable broke, so I couldn't use the clutch - this is very annoying. Not having a clutch means every time I have to stop, I have to bump the bike into neutral or else it dies. Annoying. Then, to get moving again, I have to walk walk walk the bike forward like an idiot, get it rolling, then pop it into first gear and go on my way. It's very embarrassing in the middle of a crowded intersection.

The first day this happened, I was still learning the routine to get the bike started back up - took me a while to figure out the walk walk walk part - and I forgot to turn my headlight on once I got going.

OF COURSE, within ten seconds I drove past a police car with my headlight off. Like any good cop should, he flipped around and raced to catch up with me, and pulled me over.

Knowing immediately why the cop was pulling me over, I left my headlight on while he stopped me, so he could see it was on and functional. This scored big points, as he mentioned it immediately upon approaching me. "Oh good, you got your headlight on now."
I explained what had just happened with my clutch cable - the walk walk walk part - and that I forgot to flip on my headlight in all the commotion. While he listened, I watched his eyes land on both of my left blinkers which were hanging by the wires. I immediately flipped on my blinker to show him they still worked, and gave him my best/most pathetic smile.

During the stop, I noticed my Learner's Plate was missing, and must have fallen off, AGAIN. A Learner's Plate is just a little yellow placard with a big "L" on it that identifies the driver of the vehicle as a learner. It's mandatory for anyone with a learner's license to display the plate at all times, and since I'm too lazy to go get my full motorcycle license, I just stick with my learner's license.
So before the officer had a chance to look up my details on his computer, I came right out and told him my Learner's Plate must have fallen off recently, as it was no longer attached to my license plate.

"So your headlight was off, both your blinkers are hanging by a wire, and your learner's plate is missing?"

"Yes sir. I fully appreciate how pathetic it looks."

He simply laughed, reminisced with me about his first motorbike, and gave me a warning for not having my Learner's plate displayed.

"Keep your headlight on next time. I don't wanna have to clean you up off the pavement someday."

"Yes sir."

Rugby Update

As of my writing this, our team is 12-1-1 on the season. Not bad, eh?
The season here is split into three rounds:

Round One - play the other teams here in Nelson.

Round Two - play the teams in Blenheim, an area about an hour away. For Sacramento, this would be like playing Bay Area teams.
Our rugby union is made up of two major areas, Nelson and Blenheim. Thirteen teams total

Round Three - play the teams in Nelson again.

Rounds Two and Three each have their own playoffs and championship.
We made it to the championship game for Round Two, and lost in a very close game by 3 points due to a last-minute score. It was one of those games that could have gone either way, and the team that scored last was going to win.
Unfortunately I did not get on the field for this game, which only added to the disappointment of the loss.
With our regular league games, playoffs, and the championship, we had to play 4 rugby games in the space of 14 days. It was...exhausting. But still really cool.

However, even with our loss in the Round Two championship, we are still ranked #1 in our union of 13 teams, so we're still doing pretty well.

We are in our second week of the Third Round, in which we play all the local Nelson teams again.

Last week I played my best game of rugby so far in New Zealand.
After our loss in the Round 2 Championship, a lot of our boys were banged up, including the guys that start ahead of me in my position. That meant I got the start at #7 last week, and I was determined to finally prove to myself that I could play with these boys.

Mission accomplished.

By no means did I play a perfect game, -nowhere near it - but holy shit did I make a lot of tackles. I only touched the ball twice, but that's not what matters. I played my heart out, had to be picked up off the ground by a teammate more than once, and loved every damn second of it. Being the smallest forward on the field, the other team's big fellas very deliberately chose to run the ball at me and I did my best to bring them down. It wasn't always pretty, but I got the job done.

Postgame locker room shenanigans

After the match our captain nominates three boys that did well for the team, on a 3-2-1 basis. My tackling performance earned me the 3rd place spot, which I'm quite proud of. It may not seem like much, but it's the first time my performance here has been strong enough to stand out, and that means a lot for me.

We've got another game this weekend against a tough opponent, and I'll be starting at #6. This will be my 7th start out of 15 games, which is pretty exciting.

Wish me luck!

Final Fantasy X

This game is why this blog took forever to come out.

I went 8 months without a video game. I deserve a treat.

Wrap Up

It's fun to look back at some of the events that have influenced my trip so far.
Granted, I am only looking at things that caused me to come to New Zealand, and how I ended up here.

What's even crazier to think about now: WHO KNOWS what repercussions this trip will have on the rest of my life. The people I've met here and the connections I've made could send me anywhere.

What if I move to Dallas after this season and have a crack at making the new Pro rugby league?
What if I go back home and decide I want to keep making cider?
What if I go diving and find a lost treasure chest that makes me crazy rich?
What if....

I could keep doing this forever, but I'll spare you all that.

All I can say is that I'm as happy as I've ever been. If it were possible for me to be even happier than I am right now at this moment in time, then that will be for other realities and dimensions and timelines to work out, and not for me to bother with. (Sorry, I just read a book about side dimensions and alternate realities)

Whatever's next, I bet it's nothing but good.




Thanks for reading. As always.

Hogs Wild

NZ 5 - Work Life

NZ #5

Happy Mother's Day, Mama!

Stuff I've done since last time.

• It's been 5 years and I'm still having World of Warcraft withdrawals.
• More Taylor Swift
• Did a backflip
• Went on a sweet mountain bike ride
• Made some cider
• It's perfectly acceptable to walk into a grocery store while barefoot.
• Ate delicious turkey sandwiches
• Fell off a bicycle
• Read The Color of Magic, by Terry Pratchet. Great recommendation, Simon.
• Got a flat bicycle tire
• Ate a salad.
• Experienced NZ Memorial Day, aka ANZAC day. 
• I drink at least 1 cup of tea every day.
• Changed the oil in my motorcycle 
• Joining a local D&D group.
• Decided I'm hopeless on two-wheel, chain-driven transportation vehicles.
• I know every word to Justin Bieber's "Love Yourself". Not by choice..
• Almost wasted 40,000 liters of cider.
• My room got cleaned.

Video Recap

Been having trouble with the video for those of you back in the States. It should be fixed now. Let me know if it's still being lame. The only country it won't show in is Germany, soooo...sorry Lea!

Mom, part of your Mother's Day gift is this picture of my clean and tidy room. I may have hired someone to do it for me, but I'm told it's the thought that counts. Right?

That's as clean as I can manage. Anything more is just..ridiculous

Food

I'd like to clear something up. In response to a few friends asking what the cuisine here is like, I wrote in my last blog that the food in New Zealand isn't anything particularly special.
That is to say, the food isn't all that much different here, so there isn't a whole lot worth mentioning. Pretty traditional food for an English-speaking country full of mostly white people.
If I were in China, I'm sure I'd have some major differences in food worth noting.





In particular I was speaking of the restaurants and takeaways which have seemed a bit lackluster compared to Sacramento cuisine.

However, this in NO WAY reflects the meals that have been made for me in the various households that have been kind enough to invite me to dinner/various meals.
They have all been wonderful, home-cooked meals and are all miles beyond my cooking - they are a very welcome change of taste compared to my flavorless cooking.

I've had succulent lamb that fell off the bone, traditional Samoan dishes, delicious venison, kickass chili at a Super Bowl party, the list goes on.

I sincerely apologize if anyone was offended by my comment on Kiwi food. Please know that it was not directed toward anyone in particular, more at the general offerings available at restaurants and so forth.

Thursday night team dinners are the best $5 I spend all week, not to mention how amazing the food is..I look forward to those feeds all day leading up to training, and have a tough time concentrating at training because I'm so fixated on the coming feast afterward.

I guess my point is this: Kiwi friends/family, please keep inviting me over for food, those meals keep me alive - otherwise I may die from my own awful, boring, bland cooking.


Differences in Food.

While the cuisine may not be incredibly different, there are some key points that should be mentioned.

• Lamb is the "chicken" of New Zealand. It's relatively cheap and you can find it everywhere. 
• Chicken is roughly 3x more expensive than in the States. Chicken takes up almost half of my food budget.
• Fish n Chips shops are everywhere.
• The dairy here is better. Don't worry, America, we have a lot going for us, but we can't win at everything. Blasphemy, yes we can! We just have to apply ourselves.
• Meat isn't required at every meal - I know, such heathens. Their souls must be saved. Meat missionaries, ho!
• Dinner is called "Tea." Example: What are you having for tea tonight?
• Turkey is uncommon and very expensive. I've only had turkey once, and that was at someone else's house - someone who could afford a whole turkey. For someone who has eaten turkey sandwiches at lunch for most of his life, this is a bit of a life changer. For one, I am much less sleepy.
• The bread here molds way faster than at home - no preservatives.
• Most of the fruits and veggies are all grown in the Nelson area, and are super fresh. 
• People eat baked beans and spaghetti on toast for breakfast.
• I can't order good bacon anywhere. It's all undercooked and floppy, no matter how much I emphasize the word "crispy". 
• Crackers are a very common workplace snack.
• Seafood is big.

Overall, food is definitely more expensive, but that's because everything here is expensive.
Less processing, fewer preservatives, absence of factory farms, smaller economies of scale, shorter shelf life...these things all add up to higher prices - some would argue that's a good tradeoff.

Hahahahahahahaha. Just 'cuz

This brings me to some differences in food services here.
I think part of the reason people here are fitter and healthier as a whole is due to the fact that there isn't a fast food joint or Starbucks on every corner.
I can think of only 3 fast food restaurants in our entire city region - Two McDonald's and a KFC.
The McDonald's here is a better quality than the McDonald's back home.
The KFC here doesn't have chicken strips - I know, WTF.


Restaurants

As with any area, there are the good places to eat, and the bad places to eat.
Zara's Turkish Kebabs - awesome.
Lone Star - waste of money.
Indian place - pretty good.
Pizza place above the theater - fantastic.
Fish n Chips Takeaways - depends.

You don't tip waiters/waitresses here, they get paid an hourly wage just like EVERY other employee in every other industry in the world, ever.
While it's nice not having to bother tipping, this phenomenon does however creates a different dining experience than many Americans would be accustomed to.

On one hand, you aren't guilted into deciding what kind of tip is generous enough to make this downtrodden and overworked person's shitty shift a little better.

On the other, because their wage doesn't depend on your dining experience, they couldn't care less about refilling your water or checking if you need anything else.

There isn't anyone making sure you like your food, or seeing if you want another banana milkshake, or if you'd like some more cheesecake, or if you want a box for the rest of your fudge sundae. (Yeah, I know, nobody takes home a fudge sundae - I'd still like to be presented with the option to do so if I please.)
It's all...very confusing.
Frankly, I kinda miss having my little waiter/slave when I go out to dinner. It adds to the experience.
How dare you let my glass fall empty, slave! Now dance, or no tip for you!


AND, since tax is included in the prices here, if your dish costs $19, you pay $19 at the register - not some stupid $22.45 or whatever.
This applies to all purchases, not just food - you pay what you see. Come on, 'Merica...this is an easy one.

Kava

Workin' for the Man

Work is going great for me.
I often come home covered in sugar and reeking of apple cider - it's delicious.


As I wrote in a previous blog, I was slated to work at the cider brewery for just a few weeks, and then move on to work at an apple orchard for a 3 month gig.
That didn't happen.

As the folks at Kaiser can attest to, I have this peculiar little talent for sticking around an office/position longer than I'm scheduled to.

I started out at the brewery on the production line - feeding bottles to the assembly line, filling boxes, and stacking the pallets. (This is most of what you saw in the video. The other stuff is harder to record)

After working on the bottling line for about a month, the time came for me to either get a few more hours a week, or move on to the next job at the orchard.
I had a chat with my manager and told her I'd love to continue working there if I could get a minimum of 3 days a week, which was just enough to live on.
Because she's awesome, my manager went to bat for me and wrangled up a position for me with the winemakers, as a cellar hand.
(This isn't the first time I've had an awesome manager go to bat for me and find some work for me - hey Jeff and Simon!)

The initial plan was for me to be working 2-3 days a week on the bottling line, and then I would work with the cellar crew at least 1 day a week.
Sweet, that would sure beat the hell out of stacking apple crates at the apple orchard.

We followed this plan for about two weeks, and it was going quite nicely.
I stacked and packed a few days, then moved a bunch of sugar around for the cellar crew on Fridays.

However, shortly after starting my new position, two employees on the cellar team gave notice that they would be moving away in a month's time.

So, pretty quickly I began working full time with the cellar crew, getting trained up to help fill the void left once the two team members moved away.
The company paid for me to get my forklift certification, and put me to work right away in learning how to do some basic tasks around the facility.
While it was a shame to see the two team members leave, the timing certainly worked out in my favor. I had just enough time to receive some training from one of the vacating employees, and had lots of work thrown my way once they left.




Cellar Hand

Nowadays I just work in my newer position as a "cellar hand",  which just means I work with the people who make the cider.

I started as cellar hand approximately two months ago, doing some of the cider mixing and forklift work. Right off the bat, it was really interesting work and I quite enjoyed it.

Don't get me wrong, I was very grateful for my position on the bottling line, as it worked around my rugby schedule and afforded me the ability to pay my bills.
However, the work in the cellar is far more interesting and intellecutally stimulating - I could feel my brain turning to mush on the assembly line.
The cellar work requires a good deal of thought and a certain amount of problem solving skills, which is much more in my wheelhouse. Who says Business majors can't function outside an office!?

Initially, my new position felt like I was just scurrying back and forth between big tanks, connecting and disconnecting hoses, hooking said hoses up to pumps, and getting my socks wet.
Now, with a few solid weeks of experience under my belt and a bit more understanding, I can accurately say that I am just scurrying back and forth between big tanks, connecting and disconnecting hoses, hooking said hoses up to pumps, and getting my socks wet.


I started off shadowing one of the girls who was leaving, learning how things worked and how to do some basic stuff. My first few days were spent filling in for another employee while he was away on vacation, so we were doing his tasks for a bit.
During this part I was actually adding in the flavors and sugar and making a finished cider - way cool!.
I helped make over 30,000 liters of cider, some of which I packed and loaded the next day on the bottling line - it's not so boring when you are packing a product that you actually made.
This is not what I'd be doing the rest of my time, but it was a good initiation into the whole process - it piqued my interest.

Essentially I was just running around with that dumb, eager face I tend to wear when I'm doing something new and exciting.

My responsibilities with the cellar crew can vary, but the main ones include receiving juice orders, inoculations, chaptalisation, and tank cleaning.

I'm going to attempt to show you how the different parts of my job fit together chronologically as the cider is produced, as I feel this may bring some clarity to it all.
I was very confused in my first couple weeks, but it's slowly piecing together for me now.

Fair warning: I am taking the terms, processes, and slight bits of knowledge I've gotten from work, and piecing them together with internet sources to fill in the gaps so I can write this up for you - I'm learning a lot!

Juice Orders:

Very simple. A truck pulls up in the morning with roughly 13,000 liters - close to 4,000 gallons - of pure apple or pear juice, and I hook it up to a tank and pump it out.
While the juice is being pumped into the tank, I get a sample from the truck driver and take it into the lab and do some analysis.
I check the juice for its pH level, test the sugar levels, the density, and it's specific gravity - no idea what specific gravity is, I just read a chart.
These tests are recorded on a clipboard as a record of incoming juice so we know what we've got.

So Sciencey

Innoculation and Chaptalisation

Once we have enough juice, usually at the end of the week, it's time to get the fermentation process started.
This starts with the innoculation and chaptalisation, which is a full day's worth of work.
Essentially, this is where we take the juice orders that I received a few days earlier and turn it into wine.

"Chaptalisation" means I add tons - literal tons - of sugar to some 50,000 liters of juice, and "innoculation" means I babysit some yeast before it starts the fermentation process.
I use the forklift to lift 1-ton bags of sugar up and into a big mixing tub, pump a few thousand liters of juice in, mix it up, then send it to the wine tank.

The big white square is a 1-ton bag of sugar

This process can be repeated anywhere from 4-6 times in a day, depending on how much sugar I need to add.
I run a test and do a few calculations in the morning to figure out exactly how much sugar I need to add - down to the nearest 25kg increment.

25kg increments....all added by hand. Yuck.

During the day while I am mixing the sugar, I also tend to a vat filled with adorable little yeasties.
The sugar and yeast go in separate vats, but I work on them at the same time, alternating between each.
The yeast has to be brought down to a specific temperature in gradual increments - hence the babysitting - while adding nutrients and hydrating it along the way to keep it happy.

Once I've finished adding roughly 5 metric tons of sugar, I pump the yeast back into the main tank and let it go to work on fermenting the place.

I'm nowhere near to understanding the entire cider-making process, but I know that my portion of the work is done approximately two weeks before we bottle and ship it out.
Because I am fortifying the yeast with so much sugar and aiming at a higher alcohol level, I am technically making "apple wine" which then gets diluted into cider at some point down the line.
So since we're actually making wine, this process is called Chaptalisation - but whatever, that's a ridiculous word anyway.
The point is this: I'm adding a bag of yeast into a lot of juice and throwing shitloads of sugar at it to keep it happy.

Making a blend

This is the part where I actually make the cider.

About two weeks after I do the chaptalisation and innoculation, the juice has fermented into wine and is ready to be mixed into cider.
Making a blend is relatively straightforward. I follow a recipe that specifies how much of each ingredient I'm supposed to add, and I mix it all in a big tank.

They don't have me make the real complicated blends, since I'm still a rookie.
The blends I make are usually comprised of 4 or 5 ingredients, which are typically dissolved in water before being added into the cider. The ingredients are based on a gram/liter measurement, so I do a few calculations based on the volume I'm working with and, voila, I have the correct amount I need.
At the end, I take a sample into the lab and run a few tests - with a real life chemistry set! - to determine if I need to alter the cider's acidity or sulfur levels.

Once I'm done making the blend, roughly a day or two later a big transport tanker shows up and takes my my 10,000 or so liters of cider to another plant where it will be finalized and bottled.
Apparently some of the flavors we make don't get sold in New Zealand, so we don't bottle them at our plant.


Tank Cleaning

No, I'm not making meth

Tank cleaning is basically using a big water pump to run some chemicals through the tank's system for a while.
I use caustic soda to do the cleaning, and then run citric acid through to neutralize the soda, then rinse it out with water - just think of it like using household cleaning products, but the cleaning products are on steroids.
Caustic soda is very corrosive - but it gets the job done - so we have to wear rubber overalls, rain boots, long rubber gloves, and glasses while we are handling it. See above picture.
Depending on how dirty the tank is, the process could take anywhere from 45 to 90 minutes. The time also depends on how fast/slow I am on any given day.
Sometimes I have to clean up after a filtering, which leaves this big pool of nasty sludge at the bottom of the tank. Pretty gross.




Other Work Stuff

There are lots of other little tasks that need to be done, and I do them throughout the day. Adding some nutrients to tanks, cleaning assorted equipment, and so forth.
One of the chemicals I add on a daily basis is Potassium MetabiSulfite, but we just call it PMS. I giggle every time someone says it.
Three weeks ago I added the wrong ingredients to a tank and almost caused it to go to waste. Luckily, the chief cidermaker was able to work some magic and save it.
I was getting ready to pack my bags and start job hunting again...


In all, I couldn't have asked for a better job during my time here in New Zealand. I'm doing something COMPLETELY new, I like the people I work with, and my hands are constantly dirty and developing callouses - I like it.

The bottling line was a million times better than working in a vineyard or in a greenhouse, and no matter how bored I got stacking cider boxes, I always reminded myself of that fact.

Working in the cellar is simply a blessing on top of another blessing - I barely feel like I'm going to work, it's that interesting.
I get to drive forklifts and lift heavy things with them - man stuff.

The brewery is a quick 20 minute motorcycle ride from my apartment, the scenery around which is comprised of vineyards and sheep, which never gets old. I "BAAA" at the sheep as I drive by.

Best of all: there are often cakes, savouries, cookies, or assorted candies on the breakroom table.


What's more, I really enjoy drinking the products that I make.
News flash: I don't enjoy beer. I drink it for a buzz, nothing more.
I do however, enjoy cider. And it gets me buzzed.
Don't worry, I'm not going to turn into a cider-holic, I'm too big of a wimp when it comes to hangovers to become a hardcore drinker.

Rugby

Post-game shenanigans

Our team is currently 8-0, with another 10-12 weeks left in the season. The seasons here are real long, 16 weeks minimum, and any after that depend on playoffs.

I was starting earlier in the season due to some lineup shuffling/absences in the first few weeks, but that has all settled back down now.
I usually come off the bench with about 20 minutes to go in the game, which is a typical substitution time - lots of boys are gassed, and it's a good time to put fresh legs/Hogs on the field.

My play is getting better as I gain some of my confidence back and force myself to play like I know I can. It's taken a while, but I'm finally starting to get comfortable with all the drills and systems we run. Just the other day, Gus said, "Bro, from our first 7s practice til now, whooo, you've come a long way."While some may see that as condescending, I see it as a major compliment, because it's the truth.

I managed to score my second try this season. It was a bit lucky, but hey, I'll take it. Unfortunately whoever was in charge of recording the game didn't capture
the last 20 minutes, so there is no video evidence. However, the picture below proves that I did in fact find my way to the try zone.

And just because there isn't any video evidence doesn't mean I can't describe every single excruciating detail of my score to you. Muahahahahaha!

It was our scrum, roughly 20 meters out from the try zone, about 15m from the right sideline. I was playing #6 so I was on the short side of the scrum, nearest the sideline.
Our scrum half decided to take the ball right, my side, and have a go at beating their flanker and winger in front of him.
I looked up, thought, "Why did he go this way? Did I miss something? Shit.." and then sped off to follow him and do my duties as a support player - support.

With about 10 meters to go, our scrum half did a chip kick - where he kicks it up in the air in front of him, runs under it, and then attempts to catch it.

During the process of attempting to catch his kick, our scrum half collided mid-air with an opposing player, and the ball tipped backward, right into my hands.

I caught the ball at a dead run, right in front of the goal line, and dove into the corner of the try zone, touching the ball down as I sailed over and landed out of bounds.
In rugby you just need to touch the ball to the ground with any downward pressure, no part of your body actually has to be in the try zone, which is why I was able just touch the ball down as I flew over the corner.

After I landed I looked up to the ref to see if he was going to give me the score or not - it was a tricky 1-2 seconds to process, and he needed to consult with his assistant referee to confirm the score.
Before the ref made the call, our boys were already running over and yelling "That's a try, no doubt about it! Yeah Travvy boy!"

So yeah, I basically just caught a tipped ball and fell over into the try zone. Whatever, still counts.

A Kind Gift

Susie is the wife of our team sponsor, Charlie, and she's a saint of a woman. She is always around the club supporting us, helping at fundraisers, making sure we're fed, asking us about girls, and so on.
A while back Susie and I had a conversation in which we discussed different things we liked to bake.
We discussed our favorite desserts and treats we liked to indulge in every now and then.
After our conversation, Susie insisted that I copy down a brownie recipe she really likes.

...Problem...

I might have been slightly less than truthful when I said that I liked baking. What I should have said was that I enjoy watching other people bake things for me to eat.
The only time I ever bake is when there is no one around to do it for me and my sweet tooth is throwing a tantrum of epic proportions.

Every few weeks Susie would ask me if I'd used that brownie recipe yet, and every time I would give her my standard excuse: I don't have any baking pans.
This simple, yet carefully crafted excuse worked like a charm.
It implies some amount of intended effort, while invoking memories of youthful irresponsibility and the accompanying nostaliga, and drives it home by conjuring up a paternal sympathy because the hungry, young, bright-eyed traveler can't afford anything more than chicken and rice, let alone fancy baking pans.
It's an emotional gold mine.
In all honesty, I had little to no intention of actually baking something for myself - baking is like cooking, except it's not a meal so I still have to cook afterward too.


Down the road I had a plan to subtly suggest that she just invite me over to bake the brownies in her well-equipped kitchen, which would most certainly turn into me sitting and drinking a glass of milk while she did all the baking.

However, either by a thoughtful and kindhearted gift, or by a thinly-veiled and shrewd nod to my bluff, Susie put an end to my golden excuse.

At the next Thursday team dinner, Susie leaned across the table and asked me if I'd bought any baking pans yet so I could make the brownies.
I told her no, and gave my best bashful facial expression, complete with baleful blue eyes and everything.
Nothing.
She wasn't fazed.
I knew something was coming.
But what?
She smiled kindly and said, "Good. I bought you two pans, a cookbook, and some dark cooking chocolate."


Well, bluff called.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go fire up an oven and try to create something in it.

That's all, folks.

That's all I've got for this time. I know I said I'd try to make these shorter but more frequent, but I failed on that. Now that I'm working 40 hours a week and have rugby most evenings, my time is a bit more limited. I typically write these over a couple weeks, and eventually piece the bits together when I sit my ass down and do it.

As usual, thanks for reading, you know how much I appreciate it. I'm starting to run out of minuscule events in my life for me to expand upon in great detail in these blogs, so feel free to throw some ideas my way. Otherwise it's just going to be more ramblings about my job, how I received a baking pan as a gift, or how I paid someone to clean my room...all very exciting, but difficult to write about.


Thanks!

Hogs Wild