Keep those champagne bottles corked; this isn’t THE visa that I just applied for. This just means that my case has been assigned to an Immigration Officer who has determined that yes, I provided them with all of the documents they need and that yes, I can now remain in New Zealand for six months until they make a decision. It doesn’t mean they won’t be contacting me with questions or asking me for more information once they actually begin reviewing my application in depth, but it’s still a relief knowing that I’m rubber-stamped to stay here in the meantime. And it feels especially good because a year ago today, I was weeping into my suitcase as I packed to fly home to the States 24 hours later, not to return to NZ for ten whole months. There shall be no suitcase-packing today! (Also hopefully no crying 😆).
The basic parameters of my Interim Visa are that I do not work (duh) and that I don’t leave the country or else the visa is nullified and I have to start all over again.
Current processing time for the Partner of a New Zealander Work Visa is 11 weeks. Stay tuned. 😊
For those of you keeping track: I submitted my visa application at 5:30 PM on Friday, March 22 and this email from Immigration was in my inbox when I woke up on Wednesday, March 27.
When the boys are staying with us, they each choose a book for me to read them before bed. The other night, Kevin (reminder: that’s his Minion name, not his actual name) came running in with this book, telling me to get ready because it was so funny:
We settled in to bed and I began to read. The book starts off with a piranha named Brian offering his friend a banana.
“Hey there, guys, would you like a banana?” he asks. “What’s wrong with you, Brian?” says his friend. “You’re a piranha.”
Kevin and I halfheartedly chuckled. I turned the page and kept reading. The story, and the illustrations, were very funny, but we weren’t really laughing. Something was off, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
Brian the vegetarian piranha tried again: “Well how about some silverbeet?”
“Are you serious, Brian? We eat FEET.”
And then it hit me: beet/feet. OH, the book is supposed to rhyme. But with my American accent the joke fell flat, because I pronounce it “buh-nan-nah” ( [bəˈnɛ̃ə̃.nə], for your phonetics geeks) and Kiwis, like the Brits, say “bih-na-na,” ([bəˈnɑː.nɐ]). Although the pretty Kiwi pronunciation of “banana” doesn’t exactly/perfectly/technically rhyme with “piranha,” it’s a hell of a lot closer to rhyming than my aggressive American “BUH-NAN-NAH.” 🍌👎
I shared my revelation with Kevin, who said “OOOOooh,” as in Oh, so that’s why the story isn’t funny when you read it! I cleared my throat and proceeded to try and pronounce “banana” with a Kiwi accent so that the rhyme worked. That experiment went so well that Kevin immediately took the book out of my hands and said “NOOOOO, stop! I’ll read it.”
And he did it perfectly, and the true humor/humour of the book came through. Bih-na-na/pih-ran-ha: a sublime bedtime rhyme paradigm.
As I mentioned on my New Zealand Chronicles companion Instagram account last night, I was really hoping for some sort of autogenerated, celebratory, emoji-filled email to land in my inbox so that I could screen shot it and post it. Alas, the fanfare was minimal; once you submit your application, it merely moves it from “Unsubmitted” to “Submitted.” So this underwhelming screen shot will have to suffice.
But yes: Visa #1 has been submitted! And I submitted it four years to the day that Stewart and I met, which–considering that the entire application is based upon the strength of our partnership–felt like perfect timing.
I called Immigration yesterday to confirm what the last person had told me, which is that at some point in the next week, an advisor will be assigned to me. They will look over my application to make sure that all the required documents are there, and then, if they decide the application is ready to proceed, I will be issued an Interim Visa. This allows me to stay in NZ for six months until they make a decision on my visa. According to the Immigration NZ website, the turnaround time for this particular visa is currently 11 weeks, so I should theoretically have a decision around mid-June (if for some reason they haven’t made a decision on your visa by the time your Interim Visa is set to expire, you can apply to extend the Interim Visa). If I haven’t been notified about the Interim Visa by mid-week, I’ll call Immigration to check in, since my 90-day Visitor Visa expires on April 1st. The Partner of a New Zealander Work Visa cost $860 NZD (about $515 USD). This is non-refundable, even if your visa is denied (yikes).
Despite having put in countless hours preparing the application, I still ended up spending a full eight hours on it yesterday. Most of the day was spent putting the final touches on the Relationship Timeline (which I discussed in depth in an earlier post) and organizing a massive chronological PDF of photos. I sent the Relationship Timeline to my friend Dan, who is the world’s best, funniest, and most brutally honest editor. Thankfully, the majority of his edits were simple grammatical ones (complete with mini lectures on the subtle but important difference between the em dash and en dash), though he did raise a few very valid points, such as pointing out that 2021 was pretty sparse. He suggested I could use that space to reiterate/remind whomever was reading it that New Zealand’s borders remained closed due to the pandemic.
Once I finished, reread, edited, reread, edited, and reread the timeline, I uploaded it to my application, along with the PDF photo album and our entire four years’ worth of WhatsApp chat history, which was such a massive file that I had to pay $1.99 to compress it down enough to be able to upload it. I cannot describe to you the feeling of relief and accomplishment I felt as I scrolled down the final page of the application and saw how much was uploaded. Headshot: check. Police background check: check. Picture of Social Security Card: check. Picture of my passport: check. Picture of Stu’s passport: check. Form INZ 1146 that Stu filled out: check. Contact information for three people in the country who can be contacted in the event that I flee: check check check. Letters of support from friends: check check check. Letter from our landlord stating that we live together: check. And then I uploaded stuff they didn’t actually ask me for, such as my birth certificate and NZ driver’s license, but since they let you add as many “supporting documents” as you want, I figured why the heck not. Then I went back (for the 87th time) and checked that every part of the application was correct and complete, and then I held my breath and clicked “Submit Application.” And then waited for the fireworks-emoji-laden email from Immigration which never happened, but who cares because it’s DONE. 😍 🍾 🎇
I will, of course, keep you all updated on what happens next.
But wait, I have more exciting news!
I now have a NZ bank account AND a NZ driver’s license! It feels like I’m levelling up in the Immigration video game…
Although both the driver’s license and bank account were satisfying accomplishments to cross off my list, getting a bank account was a much bigger deal. My Partner Visa application will be significantly stronger now that Stu and I have a bank account together, whereas I technically don’t need a NZ driver’s license until December, since you can drive in NZ for one year on a valid foreign license. But since I have time on my hands, I figured it couldn’t hurt to upload a photo of my NZ driver’s license (with my NZ address on it) to my visa application.
I’ll start with the bank account. It was a real headache–and therefore a real sense of accomplishment–to get it done.
There are three banks here in the little town where I live. Each bank is only open ten to twelve hours a week. I’m not kidding. BNZ is open Tues and Thurs from 10-3, WestPac is open Wed and Fri from 9:30-2, and KiwiBank is open Tues, Wed, and Fri from 10-2.
KiwiBank and BNZ both told me that I couldn’t open a bank account, let alone a joint bank account, without having a visa (even though it makes your visa case a lot stronger if you have a bank account when you apply, so clearly there is a way to achieve this). WestPac said they’d look into it for me, and when they emailed me a few hours later, they explained that Stewart and I would have to come in and meet with them for an hour to an hour and a half….during business hours, which is smack in the middle of his work day. He is the librarian for a regional school with something like 1,100 students; stepping out for an hour and a half in the middle of the day is impossible. So although I got the furthest with WestPac, who at least told me that yes, it was possible to open a joint account even though I don’t have a visa, we kept running into walls since 1. their business hours are so scant and 2. due to the fact that their business hours are so scant, they were booked out about 5-6 weeks for appointments. And we needed to get this done ASAP.
Luckily, I’d had the soundness of mind to email BNZ off of their website and double-check that what the bank teller had told me was in fact correct, because it turns out that it wasn’t. Charlotte, god bless her, emailed back and apologized for the confusion and said that it was definitely possible to open a joint account—and we could do it together over the phone any time between 9-5–!!! I had to open my own personal account first, which I was able to do online in less than five minutes. After preliminarily approving my application, I got an automated email with a reference code and instructed me to go into my nearest BNZ branch with my passport and the reference number to complete the process. I showed up with both of those things, plus my social security card, birth certificate, MA driver’s license, dental records, FBI background check…I just brought my entire file folder of documents with me, along with a bunch of NZ currency which I’d converted back home when the exchange rate was really good (it turns out that I did indeed only need my passport and the reference number; at no point did she mention needing my dental records). It took about 20 minutes to finalize the process and voila, I had a bank account number. I could have cried with relief. The only thing I wasn’t able to accomplish that day was to deposit the NZ currency I’d brought over with me; she explained that I had to wait a week or so to get my debit card and then I could deposit my money at the ATM right outside the bank. I glanced over my shoulder at the two bank tellers who were both waiting on customers at the counter. As much as I wanted to ask what exactly BNZ tellers *did* do, I didn’t want to sound rude, so I just thanked her profusely, shoved my cash back into my bag, and went on my merry way. When my card arrived in the mail a week later, I raced down to the ATM and deposited all of my cash, which was really fun since the ATM is right there on the main street of town and I had to do it in several different transactions.
In order for us to get a joint account, Stu had to open his own BNZ checking account online (without ever having to go into the bank, since he’s a NZ citizen). And then we set up a phone call with our banking angel Charlotte, and after a few easy questions, such as what we were planning to use the account for, we had a joint bank account. The account almost immediately appeared on the BNZ banking app and it even gave me the option to download a PDF on BNZ letterhead stating very succinctly that (full name of person #1) and (full name of person #2) who live together at (street address) have a joint account with Bank of New Zealand. I’m guessing that this is a common request for Immigration purposes, and man did they make it easy. Huge thanks to BNZ, and especially to Charlotte!
Now, on to the driver’s license.
License photo rating: 5.5 out of 10. Not the worst photo of me, but it does look like a borderline-transparent picture of my floating severed head. It reminds me of that time on Arrested Development when Gob had to photoshop Lucille’s driver’s license to make her look younger.
The MA DMV form that ended up being the key to everything.
As I reported on in an earlier post, I tried—unsuccessfully—to get my New Zealand driver’s license last month, but was turned away because my Massachusetts driver’s license was reissued in September 2022. In order to convert an overseas license you need to have held a valid driver’s license for two years, and they required proof that I had been driving for more than 18 months. After much frustrated Googling, this form from the MA RMV ended up being the answer. I had to fill out the form (“license inquiry”), email it to my Dad, have my Dad print it off and mail it to the RMV along with a $5 check (for which I Venmoe’d my Mom), and then had him watch the mailbox for a letter from the RMV, which arrived last weekend and contained exactly what I needed: proof that I’d held a valid driver’s license for more than two years. My Dad scanned it and emailed it to me, Stu printed it off for me, and then I took it, along with a completed overseas license conversion form, my passport, my MA driver’s license, and full-color copies of my passport and license, per the form, and drove 5 hours round trip to the city of Hamilton, where I visited one of the few AA Centres that deal with overseas license conversion.
There was, remarkably, only one other customer in the lobby. I was summoned to the next available person and the entire thing took about 20 minutes. And I had misjudged the cost of the license conversion by $120—in my favor/favour! It only cost $26.40 (plus $1, because she had to photocopy the back of my MA driver’s license, which I had failed to do). I’d misread it online and thought it was going to be $144.60. Woohoo! The fact that I didn’t have to take a driver’s test, even a written one, is still bananas to me. The U.S. is on the “exempt country” list, meaning that no road test is required. Some of the other countries on that list make sense: Australia, Ireland, the UK, and Japan all drive on the left like they do here, so it makes sense that they’d just pay a small fee to get a NZ license. But I’m from the States, where we drive on the right, and I’m from Massachusetts, where drivers are so notoriously aggressive and impatient that we are (unaffectionately) referred to as “Massholes” by everyone else. But nope, it’s true: no written exam, no driving test. Just $26.40 and a bit of a drive to get there. I walked out of the AA Centre with a flimsy paper license which the woman had filled in by hand, and a week later my license arrived in the mail.
So yeah: it’s been a busy but massively productive few weeks. Lots of boxes checked, lots of documents uploaded, lots of items crossed off the to-do list. Now I just wait.
PS: If any of you need an eagle-eyed editor, I can put you in touch with my friend Dan!
During a phone call with my sister last month, it somehow came up in conversation that New Zealand does not have something that most Americans consider to be one of the absolute staples of wholesome, delicious, nutritious American foods, beloved by generations of children across the United States.
My partner Stewart has two boys, who are 8 and 10 years old. I haven’t mentioned them in my writing thus far because although I absolutely adore them and they are a huge part of my life here, they’re not my children, and it’s certainly not my place to plaster them all over the internet. But because they are such a huge part of my life here, and because I have–as they say in NZ–“heaps” of great stories about them, I think it’s okay with all parents and children involved here if I make up names for them so that they can be a part of my story. They’re borderline obsessed with the Minions, so I shall henceforth refer to the 10 year old as Bob and the 8 year old as Kevin.
Yesterday I was sitting at the kitchen table, immersed–ironically–in researching the history of the New Zealand postal service for a future blog post, when a lovely NZ Post woman woman “rocked up” (Kiwi for “showed up”) at the open slider door and went “Hi there!” and I went “[insert horror movie-level scream]” (I startle easily). After apologizing, and mentioning with a chuckle that it happens to her constantly, she handed me a big box…..from Gillian. And I knew, I just knew, that my awesome sister had sent us a jar of this sacred American food.
The care package, addressed to all of us, was a veritable treasure trove of gifts. Gillian sent us State Park stickers and fake tattoos of trout (both acquired from a national conference that she, as a MA State Parks Supervisor, had recently attended), two sheets from her page-a-day true crime calendar (because what 8 and 10 year old doesn’t love true crime, right?? 😆 I’m guessing those were meant just for me), and two mini “SuperPets” figurines. Also enclosed was a pencil from the Birdwatcher’s General Store on Cape Cod, which you can only get by telling them a bird joke (my sister’s was “Why didn’t Mozart keep chickens? Because they were always saying BACH BACH BACH!”).
And she sent us Marcus! Marcus is a sweet, cuddly, super soft sloth that I found on Etsy and sent to my sister years ago, when we happened to be living far apart (though not this far apart) because Marcus has nice long arms for hugging. He’s settling right in to life in the Antipodes.
What a bounty!Fun true crime facts…..for kids? 🤣Marcus indeed has the best arms for hugs.Marcus and Bren, Kevin’s beloved SquishMallow, quickly became acquainted.
But the absolute star of the care package was……….
…………..wait for it…………..
…………..wait for it…………..
….. a ginormous jar of that wholesome, delicious, nutritious American food beloved by children across the States:
DURKEE’S MARSHMALLOW FLUFF.
It’s true: they do not have marshmallow fluff in New Zealand (hey, I said it’s an amazing country; I never said it was a perfect country).
My sister enclosed a note regarding the ingredients required to make a proper fluffernutter sandwich:
1. The cheapest bread possible 2. Cheap peanut butter 3. Fluff
A taste test ensued, which had me on the edge of my seat because Gillian had just send this to us from the other side of the world and what if they didn’t like it….?!
Tiny spoons were passed around, and Stu, Bob, and Kevin (again; Minion names, not their real names) each dipped theirs deep into the gooey vat of sticky, sticky deliciousness. Eyes widened and everyone got very quiet while they experienced their first taste of good old-fashioned American fluff.
The reviews were unanimous: marshmallow fluff is amazing. Bob looked up at his father and asked theatrically, in an Oscar-worthy performance, “Please, sir, may I have some more?”.
I told the boys I would text my sister and tell her that they liked the fluff. “NO!!” Kevin said emphatically. “Tell her Kevin LOVES THE FLUFF.” My sister’s reply was “Happy to be ruining teeth and diets worldwide!”.
Although no one has yet to graduate to an actual fluffernutter sandwich–the fluff on its own is just so good–Stu did try a spoon of fluff with a spoon of cheap peanut butter and declared that it was delicious.
The fluff has somehow made its way into every conversation topic in the past 24 hours, from “What does everyone reckon we have for dinner tonight?” (“FLUFF!!!!”), to “How was the swimming tournament at school today?” (“Can I have some fluff??”).
I will be sure to report back to all of you when the gang here has eventually graduated to a proper fluffernutter sandwich.
Gillian, you are the master of care packages and the best sister ever. ❤️
PS: I of course did a deep dive on marshmallow fluff. The Fluffernutter Sandwich was invented in Massachusetts in 1917 by a man named Archibald Query—!!! I’m curious to know if any of you knew this!
