The usually studious daytime quiet is broken with war cries. Half-nakedstudents wearing cardboard armor are battling it out on the grassy lawn next to the Leith Stream. I joined the crowds of people drawn to the spectacle by the guttural yells of the “warriors”, standing at theoutskirts of the “friendly” skirmish and making sure to stay clear of the sweeping strokes of the numerous weapon-like instruments that the two sides are using to assail each other. It was very entertaining to watch the attackers mount their attack on the defendants pounding their assortment of weapons as they charged the waiting line. Nurses wearing short white dresses and armed with Gatorade bottles made the rounds of the“battlefield” following each wave of attack. The two cardboard and duct-taped “armies” must have gotten pretty tired as the war drifted across campus for a few hours.
I twist around in the water, doing flips, spins, and diving. As I somersault I have to remind myself to breath smoothly and continuously, kicking my fins over my head. Flipping over onto my back I watch the huge bubbles from my mouthpiece drifting up to break the surface of the pool. After a few pointers and short demonstrations I had gotten into the 4 meter deep pool of Dive Otago to practice the basics of scuba diving. It was really liberating, like free diving during snorkeling. I only wishthat there had been some aquatic life to frolic with.
One of the biggest differences with classes at Otago is the differing lecture styles of the each lecturer. Not all of them are professors and in all of my classes we usually don’t have the same lecturer twice in a row. But it wasn’t until this last week that I finally appreciate the way lectures are conducted at Willamette where interaction is the basis of all classes and professors always stop to ask for questions. I was sitting in a small lecture hall for my Pacific Studies course, only about 20 students had shown up for the lecture, most likely because they have become increasingly boring. About halfway through the lecture on the culture of the island of Mangaia I realized that I had some questions about what wewere talking about and that the lecturer hadn’t stopped for questions yet. So I waited until an appropriate break and then raised my hand to ask. I waited patiently with my hand in the air for a few minutes until thelecturer looked right at me and then continued with his lecture. He didn’t stop for the rest of the lecture or ask for questions at the end. So I still don’t know the answer to my question about the political structure and geographical boundaries of traditional Mangaia society and have decided that I appreciate the lecture style at my university.
On Saturday afternoon I went up the valley to hike Mt. Cargill with somefriends. It was pretty foggy out, but it wasn’t cold at all, so even though we couldn’t see anything past the hillside it was really enjoyable.The fog surrounded the path, forming a wall of whiteness that served as a calming barrier. On the wayup to the peak we stopped off at Organ Pipes, a basalt formation that required a bit of climbing to reach the top. (They are not unlike the Devil's Causeway in Ireland, except smaller.) From the small platform formed by the tops of the vertical stone columns we could see the native bush covering the hillside beneath us as the sun pushed the fog aside. Theair was filled with birdsong and little fantails swooped through the air around the top of the Pipes.
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