First Days in New Zealand

Before I left for this year-long adventure in New Zealand, people kept asking me, “aren't you nervous?” or some would say, “seriously, you are leaving tomorrow, you haven't packed yet?” The answers were always, “no, I'm not nervous, but I'm sure I will be” and “fuck off, I always pack the night before”. I never got nervous.
Thirteen hours in a plane situated 35,000 feet over the vast expanse of the Pacific, I casually pondered the odds of a successful water evacuation (pull the strings, or, if that doesn't work, manually inflate the life vest using the tubes located on either side). Thank god for 6 consecutive episodes of The Mighty Boosh or I may have taken the consideration seriously. We landed in balmy Auckland at 5am, the airport was just beginning to stir with the anxious excitement of people in transit. We had no idea where our hostel was in relation to the city, nor were we sure how to get there. I asked a cute old lady standing guard at the information desk what to do, she directed me to the airport shuttle bus to Auckland CBD (Central Business District) and we were off. I was never nervous.
We've been in NZ for two weeks now, one week in Auckland and one week outside of Dargaville, no real job leads and no where we need to be. No car to take us there and no idea what we are really in for once we leave the safe haven of these most lovely and beautiful farms along Te Maire Road. I am not nervous.
We have found some promising and not-so-promising Wwoof farms. One farm promoting themselves as heavy on chainsaw work and comedy (Mid-nineties comedian Gallagher have you relocated to NZ?). Or better yet, good old Humpy Patch, where one can make witches brew and play with animal phoo (followed by endless exclamation points). Or, our personal favorite, “we live in a unique situation, there is no electricity or roads..a torch and plenty of insect repellent will be useful...your ideas are always much appreciated”. You know in cartoons when someone has a really good idea and a light bulb goes on above their head...yep? But, there are heaps of really lovely sounding places, so I am not nervous.
Right now as I type, the wind is walloping our tin roofed house, sometimes it sounds like rubber tires are being flung at the base of the house. The rain is pelting down on the Eastern side, distorting the views from the windows, so much so that it looks like the yellow wildflowers are vigorously shaking their tiny little xanthous heads in obstinate disapproval. (Rain-stained windows make nature look angry?) The wind shakes the house as it screams through its cracks and slams its open doors and I do not feel nervous.