It's the weekend, and I slept very late. One of the peculiarities of time and cultural differences is that just about the time my friends back home are waking up on Thursday my week is essentially over and the weekend is beginning. Of course, the flip side of that is that when my friends are dragging out of bed on Sunday my week has already started and I've taught my first round of classes. I've now been here a week, although it feels like a month. I have some vague plans for the weekend: 1) need to rally and workout, 2) actually unpack and put my clothes away in drawers, 3) my Kiwi friend Liane wants me to go with her to some yet to be determined bar to watch the New Zealand team play rugby (actually sounds like a lot of fun), 4) maybe catch a taxi to the British Club tonight - a couple new friends of mine have invited me there for some celebration, and 5) my friend Tony and I are looking to catch a bus or hotel shuttle downtown tomorrow so that I can start a bank account, shop for a local phone and buy a couple clothes that I somehow didn't pack (I can remember in the midst of repacking being disgusted that I had somehow thrown four black belts into my suitcase, and then managed to somehow take them all out, and now I have none).
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