By Day Five, I'm Thinking I Need a More Interesting Title Scheme

Today was our first official day of work. My team was to meet with our sponsor at 10am, and our first task was to find the staff entrance to the museum, given very brief instructions. We were successful, though we took a bit of a roundabout way to get there. In spite of that, we were nearly fifteen minutes early. We might have overcompensated in our attempt to leave extra time in case we got lost.

Three people at the museum will be working with us, each in different departments. Two of them, however, are on vacation—one until next week and one until the week after. Today we got to meet Kate, who, if I remember correctly, is in charge of software development, or something like that. She met us at the staff entrance, where she talked to the security people and got us each our own swipe cards. They’re even attached to those retractable cord things, so you can clip it to your belt loop and pull it out when you need it, then let it retract. These cards would give us access to the staff lift (which, for those unaware, is the term used in New Zealand for an elevator) and the staff office areas. They would also get us a discount at the café and museum store, and gain us free access to exhibits that cost the general public money. I may have been more excited about my security access swipe card than I should have been. But I think my teammates were as well, so I don’t feel all that bad.

Kate gave us a brief tour of the staff areas, which were mostly meeting rooms and office space, and introduced us to people along the way. If you’ve ever wanted to know what’s behind those ‘staff only—do not enter’ signs, well, now I know. It’s not all that exciting, really, except for the part where I’m allowed where I normally wouldn’t be. The tour ended in a meeting room where she provided us with tea and coffee and brought out paperwork: a contract, a technology use agreement form, that sort of thing. It all felt very formal, like we were being officially hired, except the part that we don’t get paid. I really got the impression that they were truly welcoming us to the team, accepting us as part of the museum staff, not just as students who would only be there a few months. They referred to us as, and seemed to consider us, interns. They even gave each of us or own desk with a desktop computer and a wheely spinny chair and everything. It was gratifying. (Also, wheely spinny office chairs. What is not to love?)

With the paperwork done, Kate signed us up for a museum tour, then told us to spend the rest of the day exploring the museum, becoming familiar with it. While our project won’t have much to do with stuff that is found within the museum, it would be hard to understand the purpose and goals of the museum without taking a look at the exhibits. So, in other words, we got to spend the rest of the day having fun.

The museum contains six floors, five of which have exhibits. We covered a little over half of it over the course of the day. I won’t go into detail here regarding all of it, because it would go on too long and I don’t want to stay up that late writing it all. That said, there will likely be some days in the future that I don’t have a lot to write about. On such days, I will describe one or two exhibits. So, there. You have something to look forward to.

The guided tour, however, is worth describing today. It was led by a Maori woman by the name of Lucy, who was full of such energy and charisma that just being around her made me excited about whatever she had to tell us. She began by leading us to an arch at the entrance of the second level, made of wood and carved in traditional Maori style. She welcomed us to the museum, first in Maori, then in English, and explained that Te Papa is a bi-cultural museum. That is to say, it is owned and operated equally by  Maori people and those of European origin. The exhibits explore both sides of the country’s history. It extends all the way up to the leadership: there is a European-descended CEO and a Maori leader of the same rank. She told us a little bit about the Maori: they are a fierce and stubborn people.

Then she began leading us through the museum. She didn’t show us everything—she hardly could have. But she did tell us what we could find in each area, and point out the things we should make sure to look at later, when we had time to explore: audiovisuals, simulations, interactive exhibits. And what I truly loved about it was the stories she told, the details she told. She would point out something that seemed only mildly interesting compared to the other things around it, and tell us the story behind it, and suddenly it became the most interesting thing there. She didn’t give us a tour, but narrated a story.

What stands out strongest in my memory is when we approached the Marae, a Maori meeting place, like a chapel. It is a modern one, currently used for Maori functions, though she later showed us a traditional one. As we approached, she told us about the massive stained glass doors, which represented the sky father, and the patterned tile floor, which represented the earth mother. I couldn’t help but think how so many cultures around the world have such similar mythologies. Then she said, “so what if Barack Obama came to visit Te Papa?” And launched into a narration of how a Maori woman would accompany him to the gate outside the door, and another would wait at the door. As they approached, the woman at the door would sing a song of welcome. Here our guide sang the song. Her voice was strong and lovely, and the acoustics were incredible. It echoed through the hall and gave me chills. The woman accompanying our president, she then explained, would announce who she brought and why he had come. Then they would enter. All the Americans would sit on one side, all the New Zealanders on the other, and there would be all sorts of speeches of welcome, with a song after each.

It struck me as… noteworthy, that she mentioned Obama. Partly because she was making it personal for us, relatable. And it occurred to me that I don’t know who the New Zealand Prime Minister is. She knows the name of my president, but I don’t know the name of hers. And I’m the one in her country. What a statement of my own ignorance, of the ignorance of my country.

I looked it up, by the way. New Zealand’s Prime Minister is John Key. Apparently he studied at Harvard.

Anyway. After the tour, we took our lunch break, finding our way to the staff lounge where we met some hosts (tour guides/welcome people) who were close to our own age. One of them had been a counselor at a summer camp in America, so we found some common ground in that. I made the mistake of having a very small lunch; I hadn’t left myself enough time in the morning to pack a decent one. This will become relevant later.

After lunch we went back and explored the museum in greater detail. We covered the top two floors before the day was up, at which point I went to the fourth floor café, which has plenty of power outlets and seating. So now I know where to go when I want internet! A large group of my classmates were already there, having finished their work for today. Most of us were planning to meet at 7 to make reservations for a trip we are taking next weekend (Jan 19-20), but as several of us were there early, we decided to get a head start in what I understood to be an attempt to make the process more efficient.The idea was that we would all take the same bus there, but while there do different things, depending on varying interests. The options were wide and varied: bungee jumping or sky diving, zorbing (running down a hill in a hampster ball), a zip-line canopy tour, a tour of Hobbiton, a Maori cultural experience. We reserved bus tickets and tickets for a Hobbiton tour and Maori experience before the others got there, thinking they could join us for those experiences if they wanted, or make their own reservations for other times, depending on what they wanted to do.

Then the rest of the group arrived. Two girls had been doing most of the work organizing the trip and doing research. They asked if we had already begun, and when we told them we had, they immediately expressed anger and frustration with harsh words and no lack of sarcasm. I was baffled and astounded; we’d hardly intended to go behind their back or leave them out, and were only trying to make the process more efficient so we wouldn’t all be there for hours trying to finish. The sudden tension was palpable. Half the group that had been there early just got up and left, rather than try to explain anything—including the people who had been responsible for the group bookings. Those of us who were left had no idea how to respond, or where this anger was coming from.

It put me in a foul mood, not helped by the small amount of food I’d eaten for lunch and the fact that I hadn’t yet had dinner. I watched at least two people try to explain to the girls why we had started early, and what we had done, only to be shut down with more harsh words. They left too. The other group started their bookings, muttering about how bus ticket prices had gone up, and all the cheap tickets were taken, displeased by our explanations that we had all paid those same prices. When I realized any attempts on my part to try to explain and diffuse the tension would be futile, I gave up and shut up, withdrawing into myself. One by one every member of the group that had started early got up and left, except for myself.

It ended up taking hours anyway, and we finished as the museum closed. But as time passed, people calmed down. I was infinitely grateful to one of my classmates who was brave enough to try to act as a mediator, learned both sides of the story, and explained matters to those who had no idea why this was happening. Apparently, those that had initially been booking early belonged to a group who had been acting exclusively since the beginning of the trip—going back to the time they spent in Sidney before coming to New Zealand. They made plans on their own without inviting anyone else, and they only seemed interested in doing their own thing. While I can understand a desire to travel with a smaller group of people rather than the entire class, I also understand far too well how it feels to not be part of that smaller group, and to feel excluded. I’d heard about these frustrations before and simply hadn’t realized it was this same group of people. Booking the bus tickets before the agreed-upon time came across as another attempt to do their own thing, and that one small thing compounded with other frustrations that had been simmering and growing. It just happened to be enough to send them over the top so they lashed out in anger.

No one got stuck without a bus ticket. I made sure they were aware that any of them were invited to join us for the Hobbiton tour and Maori experience we were planning on. I was reminded of just how much food, or lack thereof, can affect a mood. I was encouraged that both girls who had expressed anger apologized to me for taking it out on me when they knew I had simply been, if you will, in the wrong spot at the wrong time. I thought that was mature, and offered some unsolicited advice that they really had two options: confront the other group about their actions and try to resolve it, or let them do what they will, be the bigger people, and let it go. It’s certainly not worth letting something like that come between them when we all have to spend the next two months together. They were receptive to the advice. I think by tomorrow it will have blown over.

With that taken care of, I went home and had a much-awaited dinner, then joined some people who were hanging out at another apartment. As far as first days of work go, it was a good one overall… though it didn’t feel much like work.