After a couple days on the Tikiri Marae, home to some of the local Maori people, experiencing the culture and, possibly most importantly, learning the Haka, day 8 was upon us. The students from Hato Petera College (college means high school in New Zealand), which we had visited a few days earlier, and whom had performed a Haka for us, were on their way to the Marae for an old-fashioned Haka showdown. Upon arrival, Ross students and Hato Petera students met in the meeting hall, which was also being used as our sleeping quarters. One of the Hato Petera students stood up and honored the hosts with a speech thanking them, and their ancestors, for allowing them to be there that day. This custom is one which we had to perform just days earlier when we entered the Marae. After the speech the male Hato Petera students performed yet another Haka that was equally as intimidating as the one we had seen when we visited their school. Once the formalities were complete the two groups, who were now familiar with each other, came together to make quite a beautiful moment. The picture of Ross students and Maori students playing rugby together, sharing cameras, and playing with our flashy new Mac laptops, was a truly heart-warming sight. Lunch was served and all the students sat together at two long tables talking about everything from the Haka, to local sports, to life in America. The morning had been quite a show, but it was not ‘til after lunch that the excitement truly began. All that needed to be said was “it’s time” and instantly the smiles that had been glued to the Ross students faces all morning vanished. We took our places on the grass just outside of the cafeteria, the Hato Petera students, our teachers, and the Maori people of Tikiri Marae looking on. Our fearless leader Franco Cuttica took control, calling out the breathing chants that start our Haka. Cuttica then made the proper commands, in the native language, which ordered the group to smack their hands against their thighs and stomp their feet in unison, creating a terrifying beat. When the time was right, Cuttica started the chant, and the Ross students followed with a performance that would strike fear into the heart of Goliath himself. Once our performance was complete, the Hato Petera students approached us on the grass, and went into a Haka of their own. Although their show was intimidating, the Ross students showed no signs of backing down, and answered the challenge with another rendition of our Haka, emotions ran thick, and the tension between the two groups, standing just two or three feet away from each other, could have been cut with a butter knife, but, once the show was over, the groups came together and many high 5’s and laughs were shared. The locals were clearly impressed by our ability to perform the Haka. After the show it was right back to rugby and other forms of good old family fun. Yet another trip to the beach took place, where, despite the cloudy skies, the students all managed to have a great time swimming, playing on the playground, and even singing a little Bob Marley, with Hato Petera student Kereti Edwards on guitar. The day was going smooth until the end when a random little girl who happened to be at the same beach, and was enjoying our music, ran over and pinched me. The girl, who could not have been more than 4 or 5 years old, had absolutely no motive, and thus I was completely baffled by the situation. The questions of “why?” ran through my head for the rest of our time at the beach, until I witnessed one of our mentors Bill Matejovic whispering to the poor innocent little girl “pinch him again” I then realized that it was not the child, but Bill, or Mr. Matejovic, as I will be calling him in court later this month, who was behind the vicious attack which had taken place just minutes earlier. Eventually it was time for the Hato Petera students to return to school, so we said our goodbyes, although we knew we would be seeing them again. The rest of the day went by smooth, although I cannot say the same for the situation with Mr. Matejovic, I just feel like I lost a friend.

Max and I recently interviewed the three Maori boys that were staying with us in the Maeri. We also interviewed Pete, the Maori who taught us the Haka. We asked them about their feelings when around other non-Maori (Pakeha) kids. Surprisingly, they all said that they did not feel any different around the white kids who live in New Zealand. Of course they knew that their cultures and beliefs were different, but they felt completely at ease when around them. Pete, however, said that there is no racism or anything around the north, but as you head south there definitely is racism. He even used the term “rednecks”. Its funny that even in New Zealand, the south is full of rednecks. We also asked them what the Haka meant to them. They all said that it gets them excited and ready for whatever is ahead of them. Pete also added that he could feel his ancestors channeling their energy through him while he does the Haka. The Maori boys also said that they felt that the Haka was losing its true meaning and taking on a whole new one. They felt that it has become friendly and is now meant for support. It is not a challenge to the death anymore, but just a friendly challenge. We also asked all of them if they had the chance to go anywhere in the world, where would they go? We received responses of Japan, Brazil, Hawaii, and Thailand. All of these answers, however, were because of the clubs and availability of girls in those areas. The boys said that they would always want to stay in New Zealand, and that they loved it there. Japan, Brazil, and Hawaii just sounded nice for vacations to them.

This morning a brave few were awoken at 5am from our barracks, to document how the local fish is prepared and packed for shipping. The fishery as it was called was located in a number of large warehouse located minutes away from our Marae. The ten of us who ventured out this morning were all quite groggy, in comparison to the fish packers who were alive and conscious as if they’d been awake for hours. The best was while waiting to enter the packing room, a New Zealand man clad in his white fishing regalia passed by humming some Pavarotti at 5:30 in the morning. Before entering we all had to put on sanitary gear, meaning boots, an overcoat, and a mesh cap. To say the least, by the time the sun rose we were looking pretty stylish. The aroma that was created by the fresh fish, was not as pungent as I had imagined it would be, and I believe it was Suyan who said it was almost a scent worth bottling. The short-handed staff was a bit on the tense side due to our presence, which we were cautioned about this and told to stay out of their way so not to cause any more unease than necessary. It was a serious factory in the room, with about twelve men and woman receiving and sorting fish by type into bins. The morning’s catch was large and on the diverse side with around six different species of fish being caught locally, miles off shore. The fish once sorted were weighed in and then assorted in shipping containers designed to keep the fish fresh for up to four days. These fish had international buyers ranging from a European fish distributor in Zurich to restaurants throughout Eastern Asia. The diversity amongst the catch allowed for great shots, with various sizes, colors, and shapes. I personally was focusing on the teeth of the snappers, because of the inspiration they provide for Maori craftsman and tattoo artists. The more time we spent in the fish room the more the employees warmed up to us, realizing we were not there to get in their way, but only to observe. Some of the men began to interact with us showing off large fish and interesting colorations on fins. They became more open to photographs and questions about themselves and the work they do.

Following the fish packing room, we moved on to another warehouse that accommodated the fishery’s Cray Fish supply. Cray Fish are the Pacific Island’s version of a lobster minus the claws. These crustaceans put any lobster I’ve seen at the Palm to shame. The monsters weighed in at about three kilos, and were comparable in size to a small dog. At $25 dollars per kilo these Cray Fish not only beat Palm sizes but also their prices.

Exiting the Cray Fish room the sun was just rising above the rooftops of the fishery’s warehouses. Watching the sun climb higher into the sky we reflected on the amount of work we had accomplished at the wee hours of the new day. We all took some time to consider the importance of the job we witnessed, that puts fresh fish on tables around the world.

After the hard work of the previous day, the group decided we simply needed a break. So we set a course for Mount Maunganui Beach, a couple hours outside of Auckland. This R & R session was exactly what the doctor ordered. Football was played, swimming was swum, and sun was bathed. We spent many hours on the beach under the hot sun and, despite the warnings of squad leader Alexis Martino, much of the group neglected to apply sunscreen, a potentially deadly mistake. Julia Greenberg and Zack Lonberg, the berg’s, got it the worst. Julia laid only on her back resulting in a half bright red, half white situation, and Lonberg was subjected to such name calling as “Lobster Boy.” Beach day was oodles and noodles of fun, though there were not many activities planned, thus it would be difficult to pinpoint a highlight of the day. I did, however, enjoy a scrumptious Subway sandwich, yes, it was a foot-long. So if you’re ever in the Mount Maunganui area, be sure to stop by the local Subway, it’s just around the corner from one of the many surf shops.

Day 5 took us all by surprise by being, hands-down, the most exciting day thus far. The day began with a trip to a local “Zorbing” site. If you are not familiar with Zorbing, or the brave “Zorbonauts” that man the “Zorbs” it can be described as a large plastic bubble, sometimes filled with water, being rolled down a hill, or through a course, at high speeds.  Up to three people could enter the Zorb at once, the water resulted in major slippage, causing the poor Zorbonauts to collide with one another numerous times. The Zorbing was an exhilarating experience, and quite a way to begin our day. But we weren’t done yet. From the Zorbing site we went straight to a, of all things, Bungee Jumping course. While I was unable to participate in this event, those who did jump down the 154-foot drop, with their lives resting in nothing but the strength of an old bungee cord, described the experience as life-changing. Grant Curatola, making a record 3rd appearance in this blog, summed up the excitement of all the participants when he went up to the jumping stand, gazed down at the mind-boggling plummet, took one deep breath, and as the instructor began her countdown from 5 to 1, he jumped confidently into the air, before she had time to reach “4”. After the day’s hard work, we relaxed in style, at Polynesian Spas, voted one of the top ten spas in the world in 2004 and 2005. One of the highlights of this adventure was one of the employees at the spa, a South Korean man named Bryan, who knew the nicknames of all the fifty U.S. States, such as Empire State. While the group was extremely impressed, we were also left a little demoralized, as most of us only knew four or five. As our skin began to shrivel we knew it was time to go, so we boarded the bus and headed for our next hostel.

Day 4 was one that finally arrived after much anticipation. Before the trip even began we knew that one of the highlights of the trip would take place on this day. We left our hostel and traveled just a few minutes down the road to where the Blackwater Rafting Company site was located. Blackwater Rafting offers a few different activities but we were there for one purpose, and one purpose only. We were going cave diving. The first challenge was putting on our wetsuits and harnesses. After one of our instructors informed us that if we were to sustain, what he called, a ut-jam, after about forty seconds we would begin to vomit uncontrollably, or pass out, or both. Upon hearing this news most of the boys were left “adjusting” constantly in fear of The Jam. Once we were all dressed up it was time to actually enter the cave. It was a 100+ foot drop into pitch-black which, had something gone wrong, would have sent us to an untimely death. Surprisingly, we all survived and continued deeper into the cave. After a short zip-line we reached a ledge looking over freezing cold water, we were able to sit down and enjoy a nice cup of tea, complimented by a cookie. While the treats were good, some were worried that they were simply fattening us up for the kill. After the meal we were each given tubes and instructed to jump off of the ledge into the unbearably cold temperatures. The drop was about twenty feet and the impact caused your head, which was left unprotected by the wetsuit, to go underwater leaving you numb for a few seconds, a nice break from reality. Once the feeling returned, we went on a romantic float down the cave under the light of the glowworms. Our guide informed us that loud noises cause the glowworms to increase their brightness, this is because they use their light to attract bugs who then get caught in their webs, see ma’, I’m learning something. He asked if we knew any songs and, with little hesitation, we went into a rendition of what has now become our song, “Ain’t No Mountain.” While the less than comfortable environment made it difficult for us to produce the breathtaking singing voices we’re known for, it was evident that the glowworms had appreciated our performance, as they brought their illumination to a whole new level. Eventually we were forced to ditch the tubes and travel the rest of the way on foot. The water’s depth would go from ankle-height to deep enough that we were forced to swim, this made the trek all the more challenging. After about four hours under the surface the guide informed us that we had reached our exit, our sighs of relief were cut short when he continued by saying that we were just a climb up three short waterfalls away. Rock climbing is challenging enough, but freezing cold water rushing at you makes the conditions that much worse. Surprisingly, once again, the group got out alive, and we were able to enjoy some warm bagels and hot tomato soup back at the main building. We headed to our next hostel and called it a day.

On Thursday afternoon, we went to Pakiri Beach for the day, just for some rest and relaxation. Also, John took the opportunity to snap some great photos. We had a volleyball net set up and had a few games of beach volleyball. Bill was incredible, and he really carried his team from what I saw. After the beach, we went back to the Marae and had a nice dinner. John then gave us a very interesting talk about composition in photography after dinner, and I think I can speak for everyone when I say that his talk was very intriguing and informative. Anyways, after the lesson in composition, we went to sleep. Going to sleep in Marae is an experience that I doubt we will forget. We are all right next to each other in this big room, with all of our luggage and bags right next to us. Our group happens to contain a few snorers, who are quite good at what they do. If that’s not enough, every time you look at the spiders, they have moved just the tiniest bit. In the morning, several spiders that were on the ceiling were missing and that is just so terrifying.

Today we got breakfast and then had an opportunity to either go snorkeling and kayaking at the beach, or stay at the Marae and learn how to weave with the flax leaves from a specialist.

Those of us who snorkeling and kayaking did not get what they were expecting, I believe. Although I only did the kayaking today, those who snorkeled said that the water was murky and there were hardly any fish. Why a snorkeling trip would be planned to a beach where the water is not clear and does not contain fish is beyond me, but there is no point in questioning it because no one would have an answer. The kayaking was fun, but due to heavy waves and a strong current, we could not go out far, and ended up paddling back in. Those who stayed at the Maeri to weave made some interesting bracelets and learned a lot about weaving. We all met up after the activities to begin our practice of the Haka, the ancient war dance that the Maori warriors would do before battles to both intimidate those fighting against them and to excite themselves. We learned the words, although we forgot them moments later. We began to practice the movements that are done while saying the Haka, but took a break to have dinner. Then we went out to these fields where they have pickup games of touch rugby. We did not play, but the games were fun to watch. We then went back to the Marae and had dessert. Tomorrow we are going to Pacifica, which is an annual festival held in Auckland. The festival is said to attract close to 35,000 people and should be a lot of fun. The Maori kids that are staying with us were very excited to go, so we are all looking forward to it.

We have just arrived at the Omaha Marae (Te Kiri) that we are staying at for the next 4 or 5 days. We just arrived, sung our song to the elder Maoris (Marvin Gaye’s Ain’t No Mountain High Enough), and got the Marae set up with our mattresses and sleeping bags. We are all sleeping in one room, probably half the size of a basketball court. The mattresses are right next to each other but we’re not cramped. There is room enough to move around. The only bad thing about this Marae is that the walls are lined with spiders. Not the big, hairy spiders that bite, but more like daddy long-legs. The ceiling is high enough so that they are not right in your face, but it still is not the most comforting sight. The women who are leading our group gave us a quick lunch and told us that we are going to maybe play some beach volleyball, and I think surfing and other beach activities are available. We are also going to practice the Haka, which we are going to perform for the Maori kids that performed it for us. I think this should be a fun time at the Marae, full of beach trips (Pakiri) and Haka practice. As long as the spiders do not move one centimeter, it will be fun.

We were walking to dinner looking forward to a peaceful meal after a long flight and long day of looking at the fishes and regressing back to 8 year olds on the playground. While walking we passed a bungee place, but it wasn’t the traditional bungee jump. This place was on the sidewalk in central Auckland. There were two long poles sticking up from the asphalt painted bright purple and one and a half stories tall. There were two cords leading from the poles attached to a cage resting on the platform along the side of the sidewalk. ‘Pushing your limits’ commenced with a three-man launch into mid air. I could feel the blood pumping through my veins, ready to back down at any second. The nerves were shot, hands shaking, it only got worse after paying for the ticket. It was too late to turn back this was it, Me, Bill, and Branson were going for it. Branson was pumped like a meathead on game day. Bill was calm which scared me even more. He was like the silent adrenaline junky.
Then we heard click… all of us buckled in and ready to go. The guy working the jump mumbled the countdown and we all were unexpectedly lunched like firecrackers in the sky. For the first time I had no control. I was gravities bitch. When it was all over all that was left was the feeling in my stomach, and the DVD recording. This jump was just the beginning of experiences, this I knew. The m-term started on a risky get satisfying note.

-Grant Curatola

Sunburn. Sunburn is really not a fun thing. It can ruin nights, days, fun times, or pretty much anything. We all got so badly burnt at the beach that today could not fully be enjoyed. We went back to the Maori school today and hung out with the kids all day. We were separated into four groups; there was the photography group, the film group, mural group, and the interview group. Those in the photo group each took a Maori kid around for the day, teaching them about photography and taking photos. The film crew documented everyone’s process during the day and filmed several interviews.

The mural group worked with several Maori and a graffiti specialist to create a mural on one of the outer walls of a building at the school. The mural turned out great; the specialist was very good with the spray paint. The interview group went around and interviewed some of the elder Maoris and some of the children. They asked them questions about daily lifestyle, relationship issues, racial barriers, and traditions and heritage. Today was a very productive day, but it would’ve been much more had we not been so burnt. Many of us were blistering whereas others were just completely red. However, we had a great day with the Maoris and did get a lot done. The mural that we helped to create came out very well and we were all very proud of it. Now we are heading back to the hostel in Auckland, tomorrow we are staying with the Maori and are looking forward to that very much.