Attitude Adjustment

Maybe all I needed was vitamins.

Or caffeine, fresh air and sunshine, and something to do.

Whatever it was, I have the utterly relieving feeling that this bout of homesickness - by far the worst yet - is on its way out.

I worked for a catering company today, so it was good to be busy. I scoured pots, made coffees, chatted with customers, balanced plates on my arms, fried chips, made sandwiches, and turned a hellish kitchen into twinkling cleanness. The owner of the business came in, looked at me and said, "WOW. Good job," and I beamed with pride. Then he said, "can you come in again tomorrow? And are you busy on Saturday?"

At 4:00, I was walking down the street downtown and the sun was out. I found myself looking at the city again, with "new eyes," I guess, and got excited at the idea of creating a photo-journal of the Real Wellington. See, I have taken pictures of Wellington, but I confined myself almost exclusively to the tourist sectors - namely, Cuba Street and the Civic Square. Well, the city is much bigger than that, and it's grittier too.

There is an amazing graffiti mural of strange creatures on the side of a building - a crocodile shyly holding its lower jaw - overlooking an empty lot, with weeds growing from uneven concrete slabs.

I pass an old pub on Willis Street made of brick, with dark iron-paned windows melting with age.

There is an intricate iron gate, somehow lacy and spiky at the same time, that opens to the entrance of Central Park. Pigeons and sparrows forage together at its base - they scatter as I come closer.

I see a cathedral that looks forbidding and incandescent, its spires next to an enormous billboard advertising Malibu rum.

I catch sight of myself in a window - canvas sneakers, skinny jeans, black wool coat, dark-rimmed glasses and a knitted beanie - and, besides the accumulated grease under my fingernails, feel entirely good about myself. I did something today.

And I have something to do tomorrow.

You know what I think it is? To be happy, I have to feel good about myself - I need to feel useful. I need to have goals that I am working towards, to have a sense of accomplishment. It's not the boredom that gets me, in the end, so much as that I can't stand feeling useless. While I was in school, I always had something to do - I had projects, homework, tasks and milestones. While I was working, I kept myself busy with goals at work, saving money, spending time with friends - and I had New Zealand to look forward to.

While in New Zealand, I have been happiest when I'm in a new place, traveling or working - most recently, working to save up for Asia.

When Asia fell through it rocked me. Suddenly facing months in New Zealand without any goals seemed so daunting. The months seemed so much longer, laid out in front of me like a flat, straight road.

I know now how trivial it is really - whether or not I go to Asia. But I had my heart set on it. I was going to ride an elephant! More importantly, it was my goal. When I could no longer reach it, it seemed like the carpet was jerked from under my feet.

From there, some things piled up on me.

For one, my birthday sucked... and I spent a good deal of time feeling sorry for myself about it. I now realize - as was kindly pointed out to me - that I am lucky as hell in every respect, and don't have many reasons to complain. For another, each and every fellow backpacker I'd met, connected with, spent time with, suddenly left New Zealand, within about a week, to go either to Australia or home. Simultaneously, the weather turned quite suddenly cold - and although I love curling up by the fire on a cold day, I have noticed that there are not many warm places here in New Zealand. Most homes are built without insulation, double-paned windows, or heaters - and having cold hands and feet all day can make a person cranky.

Excuses, excuses.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I found myself looking around and feeling disappointed. I had built up New Zealand so much, looked forward to it for so long. Halfway through, more than halfway, I can see the end. It's almost over. My dream seemed suddenly like so much vapor: the gap between imagination and reality. Like the letdown after the Christmas presents when you're little. Even if you got everything you wanted, the anticipation was over, leaving you feeling dissatisfied.


But there is always something else to look forward to. There's always another adventure: Tonga, maybe, but if not, a job - an opportunity to meet new people, do something different.

And there is still some of New Zealand we haven't seen. On the east coast, there are Hot Water Beaches where you can dig your own spa. And we haven't seen Tongariro National Park, New Zealand's most-photographed and most famous sight. We've only spent one week in Auckland, and I think that I could spend more time there and try my luck.

Regardless of how I spend the next four months, nothing can sully the time I've spent here.

I've fallen in love with the countryside, I've been charmed by the people, I've been welcomed by family and helped by strangers. I've seen New Zealand from the Cape to the Bluff, lived in a small town and in the capital city.

I kayaked in the Bay of Islands, and spent four days in the bush in the far North. I saw green, steaming lakes in Rotorua, and worked at a carnival in Hawke's Bay. I saw a rare bird colony at Cape Kidnappers, camped in the Abel Tasman, and saved John from a fur seal at Farewell Spit. I saw glaciers and beaches, tree ferns and penguins, worked under the sun in the vineyard, and connected with people from around the world in a factory. I met a distant family for the first time, and was welcomed into their homes as one of them.

And now, here I am. Walking through Wellington, looking at things around me again.

I really don't know what's changed - the weather, the job, or what - but I am grateful for the attitude adjustment.

I don't like being negative, and I'm going to stop. Instead I'm going to be grateful for what's happened and hopeful for what's to come. I'm going to feel proud of myself for what I've done so far, and I'm going to scold myself for losing my grip.

It's definitely time to move on.