The One Where I Lead a Rebellion

Cleaning rooms and toilets isn’t all that bad...really. I can handle the entire bag of potatoes chips the group of KISS impersonators threw all over the floor, the remains of someone’s KFC that didn’t quite stay down after a long night of drinking, and can even stomach picking up the newspaper that a rugby player decided to use for a toilet (thanks to 9 years of changing diapers).

BUT… working for inept and grouchy managers who hate their jobs and decide to take it out on their cleaners is a major problem for me.

My work life the past few weeks has begun to resemble one of those dreaded math problems I struggled to solve in basic algebra my freshman year of high school. It goes something like this:

Ashley lives in New Zealand and works in exchange for accommodation. Minimum wage in New Zealand is $12.50 an hour. If Ashley works for 3.5 hours a day and accommodation is $22 a night, how many extra unnecessary hours is Ashley being forced to work?

Now I’m not a math genius, but I’m pretty sure I’ve been working almost double the equivalent of the cost of my accommodation. This may shock some of you, but I actually figured that math out on the first day I was here. I stayed because the location was nice, I really enjoyed my co-workers, and the free perks were enough to make it worthwhile. So why, might you be asking, have I been leading rebellions?

It began yesterday when, several staff members short, I led a team in cleaning almost double the amount of beds we had usually had. By noon it was clear the job was not going to get done on time. I stayed on cleaning for another two and a half hours because I sincerely wanted to help Corolla (the head cleaner on duty who is AWESOME) get done on time so she could go home to her kids. Thinking the management would appreciate the fact that I had saved them nearly $100 in having to pay Corolla overtime, I figured that asking for compensation for my crew’s 5-hour workday was not too much to ask. Boy was I mistaken…

In a professional and undemanding tone, I asked our cleaning and general manager if we could negotiate some sort of repayment. Immediately my manager scoffed at my suggestion that we had a high number of checkouts, pulled up the numbers on the computer (suggesting to me that I was a dimwit unable to comprehend the complex nature of checkouts), then offensively told me my claims were “bullshit” and I should have been able to easily finish the 150 checkouts on time.

Being slightly peeved but trying to keep my composer, I told her that I wasn’t a slacker or an idiot and that my crew had honestly been trying to finish as quickly as possible. I then reminded her that young travelers typically would rather spend their days exploring rather than cleaning toilets for 5 hours and, didn’t it make sense that maybe it really would’ve taken that long to finish if the rooms were unusually messy and we were understaffed?

She then had the ridiculous notion to suggest that my hour and a half of overtime was just making up for the days I got off early. So I said to her, “You mean the two days I worked for three hours instead of three and a half? Isn’t that still the equivalent of being paid 37 dollars in minimum wage? How much does it cost to stay here again? I forgot?”

She did not like me having the college-educated brains to outsmart her corrupt slave driving ways. After an angry and agitated retort to my question I smiled nicely, realizing this was a lost cause, said “thank you”, and walked upstairs. Entering into the staff quarters I turned on the light and said, “Boys, wake-up…we need to talk.”

It took me all of 45 seconds to have them enthusiastically agreeing to leave. So now together, the Band of Brothers (for some reason they’ve begun calling me LaBron so I guess that makes me one of the boys) are headed to Queenstown for bigger and better things. This whole cleaning ordeal has been extremely humbling for me. After years of working for wonderful employers I’ve now had the unpleasant experience of being mistreated, overworked, underpaid and having no legal rights to do anything about it (I am an immigrant here after all)! I appreciate more than ever my good fortune of awesome jobs in the past, am proud that I refused to tolerate criminal work conditions, and am impressed that I dealt with the situation so calmly and professionally. Despite the setback I STILL LOVE BEING IN NEW ZEALAND!

Lets just hope that my next job endeavor is a better reflection of New Zealand’s employers and work conditions!

-Ashley

Fun Fact: Some interesting signs/names i've seen around-

"Pills for Thrills" (Store name)

"Anyone becoming intoxicated will be removed from the premises" (sign at a BAR)

"We serve tap water, and its FREE" (also at a bar)

"Cycles and Mowers" (a bicycle shop that doubles as a lawnmower retailer...odd combo)

"Shag Point" (a place name)

The One About My Mates

One could say that its not necessarily the places you visit that make or break a vacation, but often its the people you meet while traveling that make the trip worthwhile. I´ve met some pretty interesting people in the last few months. Some came and went already, a few have stuck around, and a small number will stay with me forever. Allow me to introduce them...


Paul, my teddy bear of a roommate, is a handsome Irishman in his late twenties. Three years ago, a recently divorced Paul decided to take a six-week vacation to New Zealand. He has never left. In his still thick Irish accent (he says fill-um instead of film), Paul will tell you anything and everything you want to know about Christchurch, or New Zealand for that matter. To my surprise, i found out that Paul has spent the past 18 months living in the staff dorms of Base Backpackers. He is one of the managers of Saints and Sinners (located directly beneath our room), a pub hailed as one of the best in Christchurch and often the favorite place Dan Carter (All Blacks superstar) likes to go to for a pint.

Pablo and Diego are lifelong best friends that hail from Argentina and Uruguay respectively. Pablo´s scrawny legs and near bald head are a deceptive indicators of his huge heart and wonderfully giving personality. Diego, the more Rico Suave-desk of the two, is a self-proclaimed gambling and cigarette addict who spends nearly all of his free time religiously watching the sporting events he has spent his life savings betting on. He is also a savvy smart alec and one of the most caring friends i´ve ever met.

Sophia is a reserved Frenchwoman who´s quiet but intelligent demeanor makes her the perfect mate to hang out with during any occasion. Sophia helped me get my bearings when I arrived in Christchurch (a huge blessing!) before leaving me for a month while having her own grand adventures. Not to worry, she comes back Friday and I fully intend on recruiting her for one of my own roadtrips.

Natalie and Jenny both graduated from University in England and have set out to save the world, one building at a time. Both aspiring architects, they recently finished a greenhouse project in South America for a school of impoverished kids. After their current short trip in Australia they will be flying to Thailand to make playgrounds out of recycled materials in some of the poorest neighborhoods in the world. Not only are they inspiring, but both Natalie and Jenny are natural comedians. Between the two of them they can impersonate accents from dozens of areas around England and the world (their Texas cowboy impersonation was spot-on)! After spending only a short two weeks with them I have no doubt they will be lifelong friends!

Nikki failed to mention she has a fun little medical condition called epilepsy when she joined our cleaning crew. It wasn´t until she had a series of seizures that lasted through the night that we found out that little tidbit of info about her. Aside from a terrifying trip to the ER, Nikki has kept things interesting in many other ways. Nikki hails from a little place I like to call Holland. She is nearly 6ft tall but says she is short compared to most Dutch women. Always game for a joke, Nikki dishes out plenty of jabs toward Pablo, Diego, and myself but we always get her back and come out on top. I mean, she´s dutch...what more do we need to tease her about?

Amanda is probably the eldest of my group of mates but you wouldn´t know it from looking at her or hearing about her life. Born in Italy to the head of a well known mafia family, Amanda has spent the past 18 years living my dream life in New Zealand. From working at a white-water rafting company to bartending at a ski resort in Queenstown Amanda has nearly done it all.

Riki and Andre are two brothers who have the most incredible smiles and impeccable taste in fashion. Native Kiwi´s (both are full-blooded Maori and can speak the language fluently) they are two of the most delightful young men i´ve met on my travels. Riki will soon be on his way to San Fransisco on a prestigious dancing scholarship while Andre can only boast being on New Zealand´s National Netball Team (a sport only surpassed by ruby and cricket in popularity). Ever the helpful locals, both have agreed to put together a team for Christchurch´s inaugural American sloshball game!

Tasman is by far the most fun local i´ve met so far. A Pacific Islander native to Hawaii, Tasman has lived in New Zealand for quite sometime. She is very close with Riki and Andre and they all consider each other family. Tasman also has a huge extended family, all of whom play or coach rugby; which is hysterical because Tasman is the most ultra-feminine-i-hate-anything-athletic-besides-dancing girl i´ve ever been friends with. Tasman and I spend a few nights a week harassing Paul while he works at the bar in between discussions about the romantic lives of our co-workers.


Margie, a 50-something year old Canadian who grew up in New Zealand, should be named the Patron Saint of Hospitality. A random encounter at a sports club led to Margi lending me a bike worth almost as much as the car I just bought, taking me on a wonderful hiking trip, and making me an incredible dinner with her entire extended family before she headed to Australia to compete in the World Triathlon Championships. Of course, due to the fact that I only surround myself with the best of athletes, Margie ran away with the Gold Medal and is now officially a World Champion Triathlete!


There are dozens of others worth mentioning but I do not have the time or patience to write about them all! Needless to say, the world is full of some incredible and wonderful people! I strongly suggest that if you haven´t already, buy a plane ticket and go meet some of them!

Roadtrips begin next week! Stay tuned for the details!


-Ashley

FUN FACT: Policemen in New Zealand do not carry firearms between the hours 6AM and 6PM. Their vehicles also resemble checker boards with intimidating patterns of blue and orange.

The One Where I Clean Things

$20-$30 dollars a night for a bed adds up pretty quick. So when given the opportunity to work in exchange for free accommodation, I grabbed some cleaning gloves and threw myself into my newest working adventure...

"Natalie, tell Jenni to wake up."
"No. I want to sleep."
"Augh. Jenni, its time to wake up."
"I don't want to make beds!"

I literally roll out of bed and throw on the same clothes I've been wearing every morning for the past week. Knowing the girls will eventually rouse themselves, I check my reflection in the mirror, adjust my ponytail, and swing the door open. As I head downstairs to the bar that doubles as a breakfast buffet in the morning, I notice the hallways are eerily similar to the dorms I once called home Freshman year of college. The smell of bacon and the sound of The Beatles direct me to breakfast.

Francesca, always bright and cheery despite only 2-4 hours of sleep, begins making me a sandwich of bacon, toast, and barbecue sauce as I make myself the first of three cups of tea. I haven't brought myself to try the New Zealand's version of peanut butter- a salty thick brown sludge called marmite, on my toast. The boss ladies (as they are called) meander in and I zone out for a few minutes watching the silent TV as music blasts from the bar speakers. Natalie and Jenni finally troop in and we are sent to work.

Depending on who you are partnered with (and how well they speak English), making beds can be very entertaining. One girl spent half an hour hilariously describing how her mother has been debating face-lifts and has gone as far as to stretch her skin back with rubber bands slung around her face to see how she would look with tighter skin - the secret was out when a neighbor stopped by unexpectedly and the mom hasn't lived it down since. When entering empty rooms, a feeling that can only be described as Christmas (but not as exciting) comes over me. Every once and a while we score goodies like shampoo and unopened toothpaste from careless travellers and, on a good day, we get to keep things like straighteners and clothes. If the Gods are really happy with our work, they leave unused beverages and food strewn about the cupboards and fridge.

Once the rooms are finished (anywhere from 80-150 beds) we head to the bathrooms. Bathroom cleaning, despite my initial reaction, is really not all that bad. Everything is stainless steel so I twist the spray nozzle to full power and have fun spraying the whole room down from as far away as 10-12 feet. I've even nailed a toilet bowl from over the top of a stall. Little "surprises" are left for us to flush, and we often debate on exactly what created the fun shapes left in the toilet bowls.

The grand finale of our cleaning spree includes 4 flights of stairs, heavy bags of sheets, and enough fun to make the past 3 hours worthwhile . My roommates and I have created a game called "people bowling" in which one of us stands at the bottom of the stairwell and the others heave the bags as fast as they can down the flight of stairs in hopes of catching the recipient off-guard. You would be amazed by the ramming speed of 12 sets of sheets and a few wet towels balled into a sturdy bag. The laundry gets packed away, and alas, we are finished!

The crew, having paid for a night's accommodation, heads off for showers, food, and a full afternoon of playing around the streets and parks of Christchurch.

The One About Christchurch

"Do I buy the canned tuna in water or the one in olive oil, or how about spicy Thai chili tuna, lemon pepper tuna, sun dried tomato tuna, tomato and onion tuna, dill and lemon tuna, or just forget the whole idea of a simple tuna fish sandwich and buy more cheese?"

I bought the cheese.

Shopping here is an adventure in itself. There are about 7,000 brands that I don't recognize, multiple varieties of food that scare me (Vegemite anyone?), and the vast majority of the supermarket is beyond my price range ($6.50 for a small bundle of celery!). But don't worry mom, I'm still getting my veggies and protein despite the heartbreak it causes me to spend my adventure money on broccoli.

I've been in Christchurch for well over a week now and I must say, the city is growing on me. There is a middle aged man, with what I can only assume is tourette's syndrom, who stands on a bench and plays a recorder while singing Irish folk songs...often in Spanish. If you stand anywhere long enough, and I mean anywhere, you are bound to overhear a heated discussion about the All Blacks. There are beautiful buildings made of centuries-old brick and stone, mostly churches, every block or so. I made the mistake of ordering a "hot dog" and ended up, to my dismay, with a deep-fried Kiwi attempt at a corn-dog. But best of all, the people here are awesome...and they sound cool too.

I was swimming laps at a local gym getting my rear kicked by a 50+ aged woman. We got out of the pool at the same time and, feeling outspoken and slightly jealous, I commented (in a non-creepy way) that her perfectly toned muscles were impressive. Turns out she's a Canadian-Kiwi who grew up around here and is in town on her way to a competition for the National Canadian Triathlon Team. Not only is she one of the top triathletes in the world, she is also a great guide.

Margie, after knowing me for about three minutes, offered to show me around Christchurch during her free time. Did I mention Margie is also a doctor? So the doctor-triathlete and I headed into the hills and wound up on a blustery hike to see some of the most amazing views of Christchurch and its surrounding suburbs. Sheep toddled around us as we tried not to get blown over by the wind gusts. Our trek ended at the ocean where Margie and I had coffee and watched waves fight the wind in their race for shore. What an amazing day!

Upon returning to town, I decided to make an extra effort to be as frugal as possible in an attempt to travel as much as my bank account will allow. So 8 days into my dream vacation, I got a job. From 9-12ish I make beds and attempt to learn Spanish from Carla, my cleaning partner. For being the worlds best bed maker I get free accommodation, as well as all the goodies people leave behind - and you wouldn't believe the stuff people leave! Cell phones, perfectly good food, jackets, shoes, the list is endless! So I'm not quite living the trip of my dreams yet, but give it a few weeks and some warmer weather and I'll be jumping out of planes and going head-first down white water rapids before you know it!

-Ashley

Fun Fact: No part of New Zealand is more than 70 miles from the ocean.