And so, the alarmingly fast onset of October heralds the beginning of the end for Jonathan Jackson. It marks a time of unparalleled business, travel, and hopefully adventure (although my adventures may not quite be on par with seanessie ; gee golly willikers, that woman is up there with Indiana Jones). The calendar of events started last Saturday when Christa’s longtime boyfriend (whom we’ve nicknamed The Boyfriend, since nobody else in the flat has a boyfriend) arrived from Germany, and thus will be our Sixth Flatmate (in both name and reality) until the end of the month. He’s so tall; I have previously enjoyed towering over Hayley and Christa, and being only an inch or two shorter than Marco. Now, my neck cricks loudly when I have to gaze up nearly a foot to talk to Carsten. Like Christa, he’s very nice and helpful and is currently working hard to become the Sixth Flatmate in our hearts. Though his English is a little clumsy as Christa’s once was, he’s doing well so far. The odd thing is that the flat is now filled with sounds of rapid German between Christa and Carsten, with Marco joining in on the action in all his bilingual glory, while Hayley and Dan comment on how wonderful English is, and I interject random Japanese phrases into the conversation. Anyways, the couple plan on touring the North and South Island, taking in the sights of the country, which means they’ll be gone as often as they’re here.

Furthermore, Dan’s parents are in town from America this week, and hopefully they’ll be able to get to the bottom of Dan’s lack-of-mail situation (which has earned him the title of Least Loved Flatmate. Hayley sends him postcards whenever she goes out of the city). For some reason, anything sent to Dan from home mysteriously ends up lost in the mail, the latest being “a box of ladies’ underwear, which is not mine,” says Dan, though he refuses to disclose any details. More on this puzzle as facts come to light.

This week also serves as the last week of classes. Yeah, come Friday, that’s it. Of course, it makes sense when you note that I started classes a month and a half before most of you. I suppose that a part of me is still adjusted to the American school schedule, and coupled with the feeling that time has doubled its velocity, I catch myself thinking that the semester has just started. I was absolutely dumbfounded when I caught myself telling a friend that I spent last weekend studying for my finals. Finals season is less than a week away, and though I’m not terribly worried about the exams, they did startle me a little, sneaking up on me like that.

And with the end of the semester comes a most ironic beginning: my volunteer work in the visual cognition lab. For some unfathomable reason, it has taken the professor and me three solid months to get work going on her latest experiment, but I look forward to joining the lab for all three weeks that I’ll be here.

Next weekend, I’ll be taking a jet boating and bush walk day trip, walking through “native bush that is over 8 centuries old,” says my pamphlet. The weekend after that, I hope to take a train ride around the north part of the South Island, though that’s still in the planning stages. Then it’s time for three more exams, and then Australia for a week visiting a friend (tons of pictures for that, I promise), and back home by Thanksgiving. It feels a bit like the climax of a movie, with our hero [insert close-up of hero here, and read in a gritty Texan accent], who has defeated bitter enemies and laughed in the face of danger, prepares for his greatest challenge yet [strike a pose]. Will he be able to defy the astronomical odds of not one, but four finals? What hilarious hijinks will ensue as he travels to that faraway metropolis, Sydney? Will he overcome his fears, and learn to swim? Can he possibly survive?

‘Course I can. You’ve just got to stay tuned and find out how it all unfolds.

And now for something completely different:


That’s right, even way back on my first day in New Zealand, I was still cool. That’s Auckland in the background, and me thuggin’ in the forground, yo.


This is a story that I have been saving, so do not let me forget to tell the tale. All I’ll say for now is that in this picture (that’s me in the center), I was invited to do the haka. Very cool, says you? Well, that’s how they treat VIP, says I.


Dunedin is home to the world’s steepest street, Baldwin Street, though it seems nearly every international student disputes the claim, asserting that such-and-such street in their country is much steeper. Don’t let the picture fool you, though; Baldwin Street is in reality a very, very tough climb.