Car Talk 2.0

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner:  the 2004 Mazda Verisa.

Ain't she a beaut?  Only ~25,000 miles -- crazy low mileage for a car this age. Excellent little car! Matt and I mourned for a little bit over not getting a Toyota or Honda (we had driven both for years), but this little zoom zoom car makes up for it with its really cool features.  

Some great things worth mentioning:

• 43 miles per gallon mixed driving (I know, isn't that crazy?!  At least that's what websites are claiming. We shall see....if it's true, it will surely come in handy with petrol costing $8 / gallon.)
• Hatchback. Seats fold down all the way flush to the floor to make room for sleeping or for our musical gear!  And the hatchback cover can be used two ways - up top to cover a large load, or on the floor to cover a hidden compartment in the back.
• Two glove compartments, roomy front compartments, snug cup holders, keyless lock and keyless start.
• Drives like a dream. Larger wheels than the other hatchbacks we were looking at. Feels like you're sitting in a sedan, with the benefits of the smaller hatchbacks around here but without the boxy body.  
• The whole manual is in Japanese and there is no English translation!  LOL!  Matt is trying to run it through Google Translate right now to see if we can read it, lol!

Happy New Year!!!!!!!!!  

<3 <3  Melissa & Matt

COFFEE!!!!

People really don't understand it when I tell them that New Zealand has some of the best coffee in the world.  It is a serious art form. In the spirit of spreading good art, I am going to share what little knowledge I have about New Zealand coffee in the hopes that it will improve my fellow Americans' drinking experience.

Matt's flat white at an organic cafe in Takapuna

Temperature - The first thing to understand is that temperature means everything when brewing coffee and frothing milk. If the water is too hot, you scorch the beans and release too much acidity, resulting in a bitter taste. It's hard to regulate water temperature with drip machines. If you want a milder, less acidic coffee, try using a French press (plunger) and heat your water to no more than 195 degrees F. If you use a French press, make sure you don't grind your coffee too fine, or else you will end up with grounds in your coffee and a bitter taste.

Roast - One of the things that sets a flat white apart from a regular latte is that it calls for light roast espresso beans. In America, most of the espresso beans you find are dark roast. A darker roasted bean will taste more acidic, bolder, and more bitter. Light roast espresso beans have a more subtle flavor.  If you enjoy a latte but want a smoother drinking experience, shop online for a light roast espresso bean.

Microfoam - This is probably the biggest defining feature of the flat white, and what sets it apart from other drinks like the latte and cappuccino. Baristas in New Zealand go to school for months just to learn and achieve the perfect microfoam for a flat white. It is essentially a "non-foam foam," meaning it has all the qualities of foam without being airy or having a bubble-bath-like consistency. Microfoam is found at the bottom of the pitcher, and steamed between 160-170 degrees F., to unlock the sweetness of the milk without scalding it and making it bitter. If the milk in your latte burns your lips or your tongue, it's over-steamed and, thus, bitter.  Milk needs gentle love!

You can't make your own microfoam at home without the proper machinery with a steamer.  But next time you are buying coffee at a coffee shop, ask the barista to heat the milk no hotter than 170 degrees (if they are a coffee shop worth their salt, they should have a pitcher thermometer), and ask them to try to minimize the air bubbles at the top. A noisy steamer wand means they are a) scalding the milk at the top, thus making it bitter, and b) infusing too much air into the foam, thus making it too bubble-bath-like.

Water - Crappy water results in crappy coffee.  If you can taste the chlorine or the copper in your water, it will greatly affect the taste of your coffee. I liken it to drinking orange juice after you have brushed your teeth - apart, the tastes are tolerable. But together they are terrible. If you are making coffee using your tap water, invest in a counter top filter that attaches to your faucet, or an under-sink filter that attaches to the plumbing directly underneath your sink. We use a 10-stage water filter that eliminates all impurities and chlorine from our water. It not only makes your coffee taste better, it makes your pasta and other water-based meals taste better, and it's better for your health.

I don't plan on running off to barista school, but I am very intrigued by the art of coffee over here in Kiwi land, and I hope to learn more.

Car talk

So today Matt and I went shopping for a car.  And let me tell you, it wasn't fun.  First of all, before I go any further, you should know two things:  1) used cars from Japan are cheap.  2)  Gas is $8+ per gallon.

Unfortunately, we didn't end up buying a car today.  Why?  We spent literally 4 hours round trip on buses getting from Murray's Bay down to East Tamaki (where the dealership called 2 Cheap Cars is located) and back.  So right there, the majority of the day was pissed away sitting on buses (which were also not cheap - $20 per person round trip!)   We only got to test drive two cheap cars at 2 Cheap Cars - hah. (Just a heads up for anyone reading this who happens to be in the market for a car in New Zealand: be wary of 2 Cheap Cars in East Tamaki.  They claimed they did their AA inspection on the Honda Fit we were test driving, but even before we drove it out of the lot, we discovered the turn signals were completely shot - either fried or disengaged.  So right there that's a big problem that they should have caught, but they didn't. We probably won't buy from there even though the cars are priced lower.)

New Zealand enjoys a steady stream of Japanese cars imported directly to dealerships, which means they are much less expensive than in America and there are a vast array of models from which to choose, from Mazdas to Toyotas to Hondas. A car that is less than 10 years old with extremely low mileage will run us NZ$7,500, or less.

But any money you save on buying the car will be quickly burned up in petrol.  Gas here is insanely high: approximately NZ$2.15 per liter.  There are 3.785 liters in a gallon.  $2.15 x 3.785 = $8.14 per gallon.  Though the cars are very fuel efficient - around 38 miles per gallon mixed highway/city - it's still not enough to completely offset the cost.

While gas is crazy expensive, it is balanced out a little bit by the fact that other things are cheaper. For instance, car insurance only covers the damage to the car (the other party's car, and maybe your car if you pay more).  Car insurance policies are cheaper here because they don't have to cover bodily harm to the drivers or passengers - that is covered by the Accident Coverage Corporation and covers all people in New Zealand, including tourists.  Also, our cell phone bills are way cheaper. We only pay $19/month each for unlimited minutes, unlimited texts and 500 MB of data.  And that's without a contract.  In the States, we collectively paid $85 per month for our cell phone service with Verizon.

"I hate Verizon."

In the end, we're just going to have to drive less, walk/bike more, and be smarter consumers.  But one thing is for sure - from here on out, I better not hear any Americans complaining about how expensive gas is in the states!!!

Vlog from the beach!

I was going to write a text blog from my phone using the Blogger app. But, alas, the app is crap.  So I thought I would do a video blog (vlog) instead.  Please excuse my up-the-nose shots.

I talk a little bit about life in NZ - the Accident Coverage Corporation, successful NZ tort reform, food prices, and the beautiful scenery!

Enjoy and happy holidays from both me and Matt!!!

Cheers!

Under fire

A year after the tragic gun violence events at Sandy Hook Elementary School, our nation is faced with yet another shooting today in Centennial, Colorado, which just a few miles from where Matt and I used to live.  We are saddened and sickened by this senseless act of violence.  

It's a sad reminder of one of the reasons we decided to emigrate.  I don't speak for Matt, but for me personally, I believe that guns are not the answer to this country's problems.  More guns in the hands of teachers are not the answer.  Not even the stiffest gun control laws are the answer, either.

When we visited New Zealand, we were struck by the peacefulness and low-violence culture that exists there.  People didn't carry guns. They didn't have to.  Why not? Because it is a culture of trust, a culture of empathy, a culture of loving your neighbor as yourself.  

Based on our experience, we found that Kiwis trust more than Americans.  They trust that if they ask a complete stranger out to coffee, it will be a nice time.  They trust that if you sleep in their guest bedroom, you won't rip them off.  They trust that you won't shoot them, because you can't, because open carry laws are not allowed unless you are a herder, farmer, or hunter. 

So, they are free to trust.  They are free to be peaceful.

To be clear, a New Zealander can apply for to own a gun, but it is not easy to obtain, and you must go through proper channels to acquire one.  It is a privilege and a responsibility to have a gun, just as it is a privilege and a responsibility to own a car.  You can kill someone with your car or with a gun, so you need to do the correct things to get them registered, get trained to use them, and use them responsibly.  But it seems to me that, by and large, New Zealanders just aren't that interested in packing heat.

You've heard the saying "Freedom has its price."  We are free as Americans to bear arms.  But the price to that freedom is peace.  Kiwis are free to live in a peaceful society, but the price they pay for their freedom to live peacefully is the inability to own weapons.

We were shocked to learn that New Zealand police officers do not usually carry guns on their person.  You read that correctly: there are virtually no gun-slinging Kiwi cops. A guy at a hostel told us this (we fact checked it, and it's true). Baffled, we asked him "But what is someone is doing something bad and the police officer needed his gun right away?"  

The guy at the hostel looked at us kind of weird, then said something to the effect of "The only deadly threat to a police officer is a gun.  But no one here has guns, so there is no reason for the officer to shoot someone. If a criminal doesn't have a gun, the police officer can use other means of apprehension, like bodily force to arrest the suspect."  

A few days later in Dunedin, we met a cattle farmer named Greg Wilson (he's also an amazing poet and the lyricist of my song "Tall Kanuka.").  Being that I had never really had a conversation with a cattle farmer before, I took the opportunity to ask him some questions, and one of my questions was about the right to bear arms in New Zealand.  His answer was that Kiwis do not see it as a right. They see it as a responsibility.  

But more to the point, they see it as need-based, not right-based.  He said to me "If you're not herding cattle or hunting, why do you need a gun?"  I answered "For protection."  But then I thought about my answer:  protection, but from what?  The police?  They don't carry guns.  From other people?  How can they seriously hurt me if they don't have guns?  

No guns with the criminals = no guns with the police = no need for guns in the general population = no social distrust or vilification of law enforcement.

The fact is, we in America are playing a large-scale Russian roulette within our society.  We are in a giant arms race with ourselves.  It's a domestic Cold War.  I don't think forced gun control in the answer.  That will only further push gun sales into the black market, where criminals thrive.  But I don't think more guns with teachers and police are the answer, either. 

We need to look deeper, inward, into our hearts.  We need to ask ourselves individually "Why do I want a gun?"  If the answer is "Because I hunt deer," that's a valid reason.  But if the answer is "because it's cool" or "because it's my right as an American," then ask yourself:  is this the America the founding fathers envisioned -- a nation where children are murdered by the thousands each year?  A nation where we are distrustful of police, of the government, of each other?

Where is our love?  Our empathy?  Our harmony?  Our trust?

Run, rabbit, run.

I am sitting here in traffic on I-95 (not driving!), listening to Steven Wilson's Grace for Drowning, attempting to wrap my mind around what I have just done and what I am doing. Feelings of jubilation and unhinged excitement are not as potent as I had expected or hoped. Maybe I am just too tired. 

Or maybe I have become comfortably numb within the planning phase of our emigration, spinning my wheel like a busy little hamster and exhausting myself, but getting nowhere. 

I have always thrived inside logistics. That predisposition to planning is what has helped me book musical tours thousands of miles long.  The road, the wind, the ocean, the stars, the hula hoop, the street performer call to me. And so I go, go, go...see, see, see...do, do, do...hear, hear, hear...but at times my ambition and overdrive hijack by body and push me so hard that my heart and soul can barely keep up.

How to slow down?  Can I?  Should I?  Can my mind even process the experience fast enough?  Am I maintaining sobriety, only to become a travel junkie?  In 10 years, will the only way to get my fix is to take a private shuttle to the moon?

"All you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be." -Pink Floyd

"The best thing that you can do is take whatever comes to you, 'cause time flies." -Porcupine Tree

Onward....

ASCAP, BMI, and SESAC: The Musical Mafia

(This is a re-posting of an old blog post I wrote back in 2009.  It was originally on MySpace, but Timberlake went and killed the Blog section of MySpace, so I had to repost it here.  I know it's not emigration related, but it's very important nonetheless, and quite the read. If you are into betrayal, sabotage, spying, and murder (okay maybe not literal murder...but certainly career murder) then read on.)

ASCAP, BMI, and SESAC – The Musical Mafia

By Melissa Cox, independent songwriter

September 15, 2009  (with updates and edits December 2013 & May 2014)

I wrote this essay to educate and enlighten my fellow songwriters about the dangers of joining a Performance Rights Organization.  Below is my personal account of how ASCAP used illicit means to acquire money from small venues in my hometown, at the expense of its songwriter members and under the seemingly false moniker of an advocate of musicians’ rights.  The words written below are my own personal opinion and point of view.  I welcome corrections, rebuttals, similar stories, etc. in the comments section of this blog.

A few years ago, when I was an impressionable music management minor at the University of Delaware, I was told over and over again to become a member of a performance rights organization (or PRO).  The “big three” PROs are ASCAP (American Society of Composers and Publishers), BMI (Broadcast Music, Inc.), and SESAC (Society of European Stage Authors and Composers).  The purpose of these organizations is to collect royalties from venues, radio and television stations, and other entities, and disseminate those funds to songwriters, publishers, and other artists whose works are played at/on those entities.

Sounds good, right? 

Upon graduating and becoming a part-time professional musician, I did what I thought was best for me to do as a songwriter by becoming a member of ASCAP.  After all, it was free, and I was eager to cash in on any revenue streams, which include royalty payments. 

My troubles with ASCAP were almost immediate.  First, I encountered extremely poor, almost non-existent, customer service.  Whenever I called and left a message, it was never returned.  Whenever I did get someone on the phone, they were rude, short, and rarely answered my questions. 

Next came the royalty statements reading “zero,” meaning zero plays and zero dollars.  This baffled me, because I knew that I was getting airplay on several radio stations, both traditional and web-based, and on television stations.  And I knew that some of those stations were reporting their playlists.  And I knew those stations paid dues to at least one, or all, of the PRO organizations, because they have to by law.  Despite all of this, I never saw a dime in deserved royalties from ASCAP.

In 2009, I left my day job to become a full-time musician.  It was at this time the dark side of ASCAP and its policies were revealed to me…

I was invited to play a laid-back coffeehouse show in my hometown for donation money.  I played all original material (or, in other words, songs that I wrote and to which I held all rights, both recording and performance).  Weeks after the show, I was contacted very unprofessionally through MySpace by the venue’s manager, who berated me for performing “copyrighted works” and putting her employer in danger of being fined $30,000 per performed song that was registered with ASCAP.  (Yes, you read that correctly: $30,000 per song). Apparently, this little venue had dodged paying dues to ASCAP and the other PRO organizations by hiring 100% original and traditional musicians (traditional meaning that the songs are in the “public domain” and no longer under copyright from any one individual…these would include very old songs such as Irish/Scottish tunes, Native American songs, etc.)

At first I laughed, thinking it was some sort of misunderstanding: there was no way ASCAP could fine a venue if all the songs I played were my own.  I had agreed not to play any covers that night; every song I played at the coffeehouse was my own, and I held the rights to play them, not ASCAP or anyone else.

I tried to explain this to the manager calmly, but she shot back at me more unprofessional gibberish.  I decided to contact the woman who facilitated the coffeehouse series and ask her about it.  She emailed me back and said that ASCAP indeed threatened to fine the venue $30,000 per song.  “But I played all of my own songs that night,” I protested.  She told me it didn’t matter, because my songs were registered in the ASCAP catalog, and because the coffeehouse at which I performed wasn’t paying ASCAP, they were technically in violation of the rules.

Um, excuse me?

I was totally thrown for a loop.  How in the world could ASCAP, or BMI, or SESAC, or any other organization or individual, tell me where I could play my  songs to which I held all recording and performing rights?  Yes, I was currently an ASCAP member, but why on earth do they think they have the right to charge a venue for songs to which I hold the copyright?

The booker of the coffeehouse gig sent me this essay written by a singer/songwriter named Richard Phillips, who experienced a situation very similar to my own, except his experience was with BMI, and not ASCAP.  His essay is very long - if you do not read all of it, at least read the last two paragraphs, which include this ruling by Marilyn Kretsinger, Assistant General Counsel of former Congressman John McHugh (R, NY):

" ‘With respect to the musical compositions that Mr. Phillips has authored, no performance license is necessary since Mr. Phillips is the copyright owner of those songs.’  With respect to traditional folk songs in the public domain, if I am ‘not performing a copyrighted arrangement of a public domain folk song, then a BMI license is not required.’”

Despite this ruling, and the fact that this should all be complete common sense anyway, PROs continue to use scare tactics and complete lies in order to extort huge amounts of money from venues that employ original musicians.

ASCAP has a history of being jerks. In the late 1990s, ASCAP targeted the Girl Scouts for royalty payments, demanding that they cough up money for singing songs around the campfire. The campaign back-fired on them when a few brave and savvy Girl Scouts leaders refused to be pressured and went to the media, resulting in a huge amount of bad press that made ASCAP looking like a big mean bully on a playground (and rightfully so). Eventually, ASCAP backed off the Girl Scouts, but that hasn't stopped them from targeting less controversial, more vulnerable organizations like coffeeshops.

A few months later, still an ASCAP member (though a very disillusioned one), I was gearing up to perform at another local venue – a little non-profit grocery store that employs both original and cover artists on weekends.  While negotiating my performance pay with the booker of the grocery store, she replied “We can’t pay you as much as we want to, because BMI (an organization very similar to ASCAP) is making us pay $50 per performance plus a huge annual fee.”

I couldn’t believe my ears – BMI had cornered this little non-profit and threatened them with huge fines unless they paid up.  I tried talking with the grocery store booker, saying that she could fight this Goliath if she stuck to her guns and employed only original musicians, and backed it up with documentation and a copy of each musician’s playlist.  In the end, they decided to pay BMI, in part because they were scared, and in part because they still wanted to employ a few cover-based acts to please their customers.  I would bet my next gig paycheck that NONE of the original acts who perform at the grocery store will see any of that money filtered back to them in the form of royalties.

Two things became very clear to me at that moment: 1)  there was a BMI “spy” (aka “representative”) tracking down all the small little venues in my hometown and scaring them into paying them, and 2) neither ASCAP nor BMI had no intention of paying me any of the fees they incurred from these venues, thus they did not have my best interest as a songwriter at heart.  It was then I decided to terminate my ASCAP membership. The termination is still pending, because according to their policies, all songwriters wishing to cancel their membership must endure a “waiting period” of 6 months.  My termination date is not until April 2010.  My publisher membership is even further off, in late 2010.  It is obvious that ASCAP does not let their prisoners go willingly or without a fight.

In conclusion, I implore my fellow songwriters to REJECT all PRO organizations.  Do NOT sign up with them as members, unless you are absolutely willing to machete through red tape and possibly deal with shady situations. 

If you hear of any shady PRO activity in your town, of representatives threatening venues with huge fines, take action: call the PRO and demand an explanation.  Call your local congressman or congresswoman and complain.  Educate the venues about their options, which includes hiring totally original musicians who are NOT affiliated with any PRO.  Tell your music business professors that this idea that all songwriters must join a PRO is outdated and harmful, and ask them to pose the alternative idea to their students.

If you are not signed up with a PRO, but you perform covers, check with the venue first and make sure that they are paying the PRO fees, because that is the only way you can legally get away with playing covers without having to pay royalties out of your own pocket to the artist whose material you are covering (and profiting from).

Hopefully, the United States Congress will one day take up this issue, resolve it, and begin regulating these huge corporations that use their member musicians as pawns to reap huge profits.  I only pray I will live to see that day.

UPDATE:  December 2013

Two years ago, I left ASCAP, but not after being further hounded by their spies.  I finally rid myself of ASCAP and resigned my membership, but it took 6 months.  Yup, 6 months.  About ten times longer than it takes to cancel your cable subscription.  RIDICULOUS.  An important note:  just because you cancel your membership does NOT mean your songs are automatically removed from the ASCAP library!  If you don’t request that your songs are removed from the library, they can still collect royalties on your songs, but not pay you, because you are no longer a member!  (Not that they ever paid me to begin with….)  So be sure to cross all of your T’s and dot all of your I’s when you get out of ASCAP, or any other PRO.

Another update – a friend of mine, a jazz bass player in D.C., is having the exact same issue with ASCAP.  His venues were being hounded by ASCAP spies and threatened with huge fines.  My friend also tried to get out of ASCAP but it will take him several months until the “window of membership cancellation” opens up.  (By the way, the membership cancellation months are July and April, and ONLY July and April. You can’t cancel any other time!!)

PERFORMANCE RIGHTS ORGANIZATIONS ASCAP, BMI, AND SESAC = CORPORATE GREED AT ITS WORST.  BOYCOTT PERFORMANCE RIGHTS ORGANIZATIONS!

About Melissa Cox

I have been performing and songwriting professionally for over 10 years now as an independent, fan-funded musician. I tour across the continental United States, Hawaii, and New Zealand playing everywhere from house concerts to concert halls, festivals to street corners. My band Mythica and I have been fortunate to share bills with many greats, including the Spin Doctors, Sister Hazel, Smash Mouth, Three Dog Night, Catie Curtis, Cyril Neville (the Neville Brothers), Celtic Crossroads, Black 47, and others.  I have a bunch of albums on Spotify and iTunes, and some physical CDs. If you like Tori Amos, Sarah McLachlan, Loreena McKennitt, Alanis Morrissette, Sinead O'Connor, or the Cranberries, then I think you'll dig our stuff. Check out my albums at www.MelissaCoxMusic.net.  On Spotify, search for either "Melissa Cox" or "Mythica" to hear our stuff.  Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy our music.

Why?

Why?  This word has been both permeating and plaguing my psyche lately.

Why did my heater break?

Why did that Sallies grad shoot up LAX?

Why does a second checked bag on Air New Zealand cost $150?

Why am I doing this?

Why New Zealand?

That last one I've been asked a lot lately, right after the initial "holy shit." Why New Zealand?  My answer has consistently been "Why not?"  But I admit that is a bit of a cop out, so I'm going to attempt to embellish a bit....

I do believe that a picture is worth a thousand words.  So here are 100 pictures to equal 100,000 words:

The above video gives you a glimpse into life in New Zealand.  Matt and I went to New Zealand expecting breathtaking scenery, great food, and incredible adventure.  And we got it.  What we weren't ready for were the people, the trust, the safety, and the spiritual awakening that awaited us.

New Zealand is about as close to Utopia as you can get.  Sure, it has its dark side, its issues, its politicians, and its shortcomings.  It's not perfect.  But.....it's pretty damn great.

Even before we got to New Zealand, we met a Kiwi on the plane from San Francisco. Her name was Annabel, a cool chick with glasses, a pixie haircut and pretty smile. We were slightly caught off-guard by her willingness to actually hold a real conversation with another human being on an airplane (seriously, who does that?)  After chatting on and off for two hours, she said "So when we get coffee tomorrow, I can tell you of some good places to check out around Christchurch."

Coffee?  When did we make a coffee date?  Was I asleep during that part of the conversation?

(Flat White: the King of Coffee)

I brushed it off as a fluke.  But as we got off the plane, she gave us the name of a coffee shop overlooking the (once taller) city of Christchurch and said "See you tomorrow for coffee."  We were shocked. Did she  mean to murder us?

We went for coffee and had a smashing time.  She brought a friend along, and the morning was refreshingly authentic.  No insufferable banter about the weather. When we asked her friend "What do you do?" (meaning "What do you do for a job?") his reply was quick: "As little as possible." (We heard this statement several times during our stay from different people. I believe it really sums up the Kiwi philosophy of work-life balance, something Americans desperately lack).

We thought maybe the coffee date was a fluke. But nope: Annabel came out to my show that night at Cassel's Brewing Company and brought a friend.  I was incredibly touched.

We thought maybe Annabel was some sort of awesome alien creature who transcends humans in hospitality and social engagement.  Maybe she was an anomaly.  Surely there can't be more people like this.

Nope. Wrong.  As I was packing up my gear from my gig at Cassel's, a gentleman approached me. "Hi, I'm Al. I own this place.  Where you guys headed tomorrow?"  I tell him we are on our way to Akaroa, a picturesque French settlement harbour town 90 minutes east of Christchurch where miniature dolphins swim and you can see cows lounging on the grass from your sea kayak.

"Oh yeah, Akaroa. Beautiful," Al the bar owner says. "So you'll have to drive by my house to get there. Come by for coffee in the morning and we can sit and I can tell you the best way to get there and where to eat."

Okay.....here's where I need to explain something:  I have been playing in bars for almost 15 years.  Never, EVER have I been invited to coffee by the establishment owner, let alone by a bar owner who had the time to play tour guide.

(Above: cow overlooking Akaroa Harbour. The high road to Akaroa was scary to drive, but beautiful. Thanks to Al and his detour tips, I was able to get this awesome shot!)

Everywhere we went, we ran into more people like Annabel and Al:  the dude from Chicago who let me busk with him in Queenstown and who gave me some of his tips without me even asking; the musician at the Whare Flat Folk Festival in Dunedin who lent me his guitar for the weekend (it was too expensive to bring my own from the states); the photographers we "glamped" with in Milford Sound.  Humanity is more human in New Zealand, it seems.

Sure, you had the bad apples, the Scrooges, the teenage baristas with the bad attitudes.  But for every one of the sour heads, we met 20 incredibly generous, authentic, down-to-earth, chill people who would give you the shirts off their backs.  Their personalities, their values, their magnetism infects you.

So Why New Zealand?  For me, self-actualization is everything; becoming a better person with the goal of making the world a better place (through my music, my writing, my actions, my activism) is paramount in my life.  To that end, New Zealand seems like a pretty good place to meet and learn from some like-minded people.

Still not convinced? Go ask a New Zealander.  They'll take you out to coffee after you ask them.

~ Melissa

Stuff vs. Memories

NPR is always sending me messages from the Universe.

Yesterday I heard a story about short and long term memory loss.  The reporter posed the question "What would life be like without memory?"  

Cut to a man with brain trauma.  The reporter asks "What did you do this morning?"

Pause. "I honestly don't remember."

The reporter asks: "What did you do yesterday?"

Pause.  "I really, truly don't remember.  I wish I could tell you."

A doctor chimes in and talks about a past patient who suffered from short and long term memory loss. Despite her affliction, she could still play the viola and read sheet music. Put a piece of sheet music in front of her, and she could play it.  Give her the same sheet music 10 minutes later, and she would swear she's never seen it before, but she would, again, play it.  The doctor was testing muscle memory, looking to see if, despite not remembering the piece, she played it better over time.  She did.

"What would life be like without memory?"

As I clean out my house and sell nearly everything I own in preparation for the emigration, I realize that I am trading my stuff for memories, my tangible possessions for intangible experiences.  Most of the stuff is easy to give up: my Pier 1 artwork, my X-Files comic collection, pots and pans.

But by giving up some things, I am willfully surrendering the creation of future memories. Will I regret not feeling the warmth of my cat Amber next to me as I sleep?  Will I yearn for my own mattress as I sleep in the back of a station wagon on a camping trip?  Will I regret trading an egg per month for freedom in the short term, only to have time and age hijack my body and future happy memories in the long term?

"What will survive of me? A cardboard box with thoughts inside?" - Lunatic Soul

The physical act of cleaning out my house has made my brain go into defrag mode, making me process all of my memories, short and long term, all of the joy, the pain, the sorrow, the euphoria, the ugliness, the beauty, my own flaws.  And then there is that constant, nagging voice, always asking "Are you sure you're doing the right thing?"

"What would life be like without memory?" The question makes me wonder: "What if I couldn't think of my past?"  The very notion jolted me into appreciation tinged with guilt, because I realized just how much I have taken the gift of memory for granted.  Most of us do.  But for those souls who must endure short and long term memory loss, Alzheimer's, dementia and other illnesses that attack memory, it is a very hard reality for them and for their families.  It's a reality that did, and does, affect my family.

Tonight I sold my beautiful dining room set to a friend.  I traded it for a memory not yet made.  When that memory does finally come to greet me, I will close my eyes and savor it, just as I have savored every meal with Matt at my dining table.

Fear

Last night, the nightmare returned.  I am driving down a highway. I miss my exit. Frantically, I try to get my GPS to work on my phone, but the connection is lost.  I keep driving, trying to figure out how to get to where I am going, and quickly get lost.

Then I see it: a very high, very steep bridge.  My knuckles turn pale as I grip the wheel and mutter "shit."  Cars are whizzing by me, semis are barreling down on me. I have no choice but to catapult my car at 70 miles per hour onto this concrete tight rope before me.  I cringe in terror as I go up, up, up.... then I hear the alarm, and wake up.

(Oh HELL no! Why did the French build this crazy fucking thing?)

I have been having this same nightmare for years, though details change from dream to dream.  Once, I missed my exit and was forced to drive out of Delaware and into New Jersey (that is scary in real life).  Another time, I was forced up onto a drawbridge and stuck, nearly vertical, in the sky.

Two details remain the same across all the versions of this dream: I have to drive over a huge bridge unlike anything man has ever engineered on this earth, and I am lost.

In real life, I am terrified of driving over bridges.  Passes are even worse.  While Matt and I were living in Colorado, we took a day trip up to Breckenridge with his family.  Somehow we decided it would be fun to take Loveland Pass on the way back home.  While Matt and his family were enjoying the beautiful views at 11,000 feet, I was curled up in the fetal position in the back seat with tears running down my cheeks.

The Road to Hana in Maui was another terrifying experience. Try hugging a sheer cliff in a torrential downpour at night as you navigate a one-way road plagued with blind spots and minimal guard rails while locals pass you going 40 mph in their pickup trucks.

(Aerial view of Hana Highway on Maui)

While my recurring nightmare is rooted in my fear of bridges, it goes deeper than that. I usually have this nightmare when I feel out of control in my life, when I am very stressed, or when I am concerned about my future. I am about to embark on a two year walkabout to New Zealand. Though I am excited and happy, I am also terrified. When we land in Auckland, we will have no jobs, no car, no permanent residence, no friends. We won't even have a frying pan to call our own. We'll have our instruments, a suitcase of clothes, and our courage.

If I analyze my fear of bridges, I realize that it's not a fear of heights, but a fear that if something were to go wrong, a bridge would be the worst place for it to happen.  Another driver could hit me, sending me careening over the edge. Or a gust of wind could cause me to lose control of my car, sending me careening over the edge. Or lack of funding could cause the bridge to fall out from under me, sending me careening over the edge. (Or, God forbid, I get stuck on an example of failed engineering.)

This move to New Zealand is the largest bridge I will ever cross. While I am excited about the new heights I will reach and the beauty I will see before me, I am terrified. All I can do is close my eyes, hold on tight, and let fate carry me over to the other side......

(Mt. Cook Village, New Zealand, 4 hours north of Queenstown - we were there!)

Visa...it's everywhere I want to be.

Melissa:  New Zealand approved my visa in less than 3 days.  SCORE.  Kudos to their very efficient immigration system. Lessons learned about the NZ immigration process:

Getting a 12-month work holiday visa to NZ is so easy a caveman could do it...and free for U.S. citizens!

I'm convinced the New Zealand Embassy front desk receptionist is Murray from Flight of the Concords.

Unless you are willing to pay a small fortune, chop through red tape and get to know your vet better than you would have preferred, getting a cat or dog into New Zealand is virtually impossible.... which is good for the endangered kiwi and other birds.

We're due to land in NZ sometime in mid-December.  We're going to visit Amber at Happy Cat Sanctuary one more time in November - pictures to follow. Cheers!

Amber is safe and happy

Melissa:  We are very happy (and sad) to report that we have found a great temporary home for Amber while we're overseas! She is now safe and secure at the Happy Cat Sanctuary on Long Island, NY  Here's my beautiful baby at the sanctuary!

Happy Cat is a free-roaming, cage-free, no-kill sanctuary that specializes in the rescue, rehabilitation, and shelter of at-risk cats, including cats who have been targeted by mean people who wish to poison them, shoot them, or use them as bait in gang dog-fighting rings. Cats ill with FIV (aka, cat AIDS), blind cats, deaf cats, cats missing limbs....they all come here to live out their days climbing trees, lounging in the sun, being brushed by founder Chris Arsenault and volunteer Linda, and fed yummy meals and treats.  

Happy Cat is a 501(c)3 non-profit that runs entirely on donations by individual people who want to make a difference in the lives of sick and forgotten cats. Please make a tax-deductible donation by mailing a check to PO Box 688, Coram, NY 11727.  Please make check payable to "Happy Cat, Inc."

I want to thank Chris Arsenault, founder of the sanctuary, and Linda for their amazing support, generosity, and love.  Amber is in excellent hands and has all the food, shelter, medical attention and love she could ever need.  And she's learning a thing or two about becoming an outdoor cat and making new friends, which is awesome!  I still cry when I think about her, but I know she's in an awesome place and safe. We will see her in a few years!!

More pictures of my darling baby with Chris Arsenault, the founder and primary caregiver of the cats:

Please note that we paid a considerable fee to board Amber temporarily at the sanctuary.  Happy Cat is otherwise full and is not taking in any more cats.  Please don't contact them about taking cats. The sanctuary made an exception for us.  If you would like to help the sanctuary expand so they can take more cats in the future, please make a donation, thank you!