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JAMIE CLUMPAS (HE/ANY) VUWSA has defended promoting high-dose caffeine pill “Nō Dōz” in the face of online backlash. The posts on Facebook and Instagram, which said the pills were to keep students ‘wide awake for a hard night’s study,’ were not declared as paid promotion.  The posts drew numerous critical comments, with one saying ‘This seems reckless and borderline irresponsible to promote.’ A Nō Dōz pill contains 200mg of caffeine, dwarfing the 80mg in a 250ml can of redbull. However much more common on NZ shelves is Nō Dōz plus,  which, despite the name,   only contains 100mg. 400mg is considered the maximum healthy dose of caffeine - more can cause anxiety, insomnia, loss of appetite and other symptoms. While caffeine pills are theoretically no riskier than other forms of caffeine, its much easier to slam back 3-5 pills in one go than 6 cans. VUWSA president Marcail Parkinson explained that the ad is part of a very large advertising deal with Auckland-based Wilson Consumer Products to promote a variety of their products, saying “VUWSA doesn’t specify which products they are allowed to advertise. They send us through a set number of ads per year and we put them out.” She said modifying the agreement to have more control on future ads could be possible, but that the contract is essential in funding services; ‘we are the most underfunded student association in the country, advertising is how the community pantry runs, how Salient runs, and the only way we can continue to put on O-week.’ She continued ‘we’ve been putting pressure on the university to fund us so we don’t have to rely on advertising, but they don’t have the appetite for it.’ Parkinson confirmed the omission of sponsorship marking was an “oversight.” The Facebook post has now been edited to include “#ad.” The instagram post, as well as other sponsored posts on the VUWSA facebook page have not been updated as of writing.

Words by VUWSA President Marcail Parkinson (she/her) When I first started working, unions seemed like a distant concept, something I heard mentioned in passing but never really understood. What did they even do? Were they just a bunch of organisations with confusing acronyms? And most importantly, what did they have to do with me?  But then, like many of us, I encountered some truly shit work scenarios and then ended up in a classic Wellington flat (mouldy, cold, and with no opening windows!). These things seemed unfair, but I didn't know where to turn for help. That’s when I started at VUWSA and quickly realised the necessity of unions.  Turns out unions are a poor student’s best friend—being in a union is like having a guy who you can complain to when people are being horrible to you and they can step in and fight your fights for you. Your union is there to stand up for you and do the work to make sure you get treated right.  Essentially, a union is a collective voice for workers, an organisation that stands up for employees in the workplace. They act as advocates, both collectively and individually with the employee's consent, negotiating for better working conditions and fair treatment.   One of the primary functions of unions is to bargain for collective employment agreements with employers. These agreements outline the terms and conditions of employment, including wages, hours, benefits, and workplace policies. By banding together, workers gain strength in numbers, increasing their bargaining power and ensuring their voices are heard.  But unions offer more than just collective bargaining. They provide invaluable support and resources to their members. From offering advice on work-related issues to providing training and educational opportunities, unions empower workers to understand their rights and stand up for themselves.  Membership in a union typically requires payment of a fee, but for those in casual or fixed-term positions, the cost is often minimal or even free. And the benefits far outweigh the dues. By joining a union, you not only gain access to expert guidance and representation but also become part of a community. You'll have the chance to connect with fellow workers, join networks based on common interests or identities, and build solidarity across different sectors.  So, when you find yourself in need of advice, support, or representation at work, remember that unions are there for you. Whether it's addressing a dispute, navigating a disciplinary process, or asserting your rights in the workplace, unions have your back.  VUWSA are a student union which means we’re here to look after students and whatever it is that students care about. Our advocacy service deals with all kinds of issues, from problems with the uni and your courses to employment to renting we’ve got you covered. Luckily for you VUWSA is also free (although we are partially funded through your student services fee), so make sure to make the most of our services!  What union is right for you?? All Vic Uni Students - VUWSA (free) Tutors & other uni staff - TEU (free for tutors) Hospo workers - Unite Union Public Sector - PSA If you aren’t sure which union to join come chat with us at the VUWSA office or look on the NZCTU website <3

Expertly summarised by Brie Keatley (she/they), Erica Schouten (she/her) In partnership with the VUWSA Advocacy Team Gone are the days where your living costs could comfortably cover all your weekly expenses. And unless you can rely on the bank of your parents… it’s up to you to fill the gaps. So, you trek through Trade Me, scroll Student Job Search and cruise up and down Cuba Street. If you’re lucky, you’ll get a few choice looking offers (and maybe a few dodgy ones) and we here at VUWSA Advocacy are here to make sure you accept the good ones. So, here are five things you should be aware of when you start a new job. Contract type:   Okay you’ve verbally accepted your job! Great! Now you need  to sign your contract. There are various forms of being considered officially employed, each with its own advantages and disadvantages.Probably the most common contract type for students is part-time.  There are two types of part-time contracts though! Casual, and permanent. If you are under casual part-time employment, your hours per week are not guaranteed which can be quite annoying. If you are under permanent part-time employment you usually have a set amount of hours you will work a week (between 10 – 20 usually). This is more commonly found in hospo settings. Say you work at a bar and your usual shifts are on Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights. This would mean you need to give notice if you for some reason are unable to work these usual hours. It's important not to mix up contracted work with being a contractor . Contracted work refers to the topic of this article, while being a contractor means being self-employed and responsible for paying your own taxes, ACC fees, and other employment-related expenses. Examples of independent contract jobs include sex work, theater performance, trade work, musical gigs and any work you do for uber/delivery services. What breaks you are entitled to:   Working on a contract means you are entitled to breaks. Anyone who works in hospo is probably laughing until they cry when they read that. The length and how many you get depends on how many hours you are working. The rules around paid breaks and (unpaid) meal breaks are complicated so you should check out employment.govt.nz for reliable information on this. If you find you’re consistently not being given sufficient breaks,ask your manager. We acknowledge that this can be so difficult to do due to power imbalances. If this is the case, come and have a chat with us at VUWSA Advocacy and we’ll see how we can help. Dodgy superiors:  Have you ever had a boss text you outside of work hours? Ask inappropriate questions about your personal life? Not let you clock in for hours you’ve clearly worked? It sounds like you might have what we in the bizz call a ‘dodgy superior’. Some people go on power trips when they are given even the slightest bit of seniority. If you feel like you may be under the management of a ‘dodgy superior’ it can be almost overwhelmingly difficult to speak out about it. Our best advice in this situation is to either speak to one of your co-workers you trust or the dodgy superior’s manager. If neither of these options are available, it may also be a good idea to speak to someone within your union. You can find out what union to join at union.org.nz . Visa work hours:  International students! We haven't forgotten about you. If you are interested, you can work up to 20 hours per week while on a study visa in employed positions. Unfortunately, contractor work is not allowed under this visa. However, most job opportunities for students in Wellington are not contractor-based, so you're in luck. Just be aware that if you are not on a formal contract and being paid irregularly, you may still be classified as a contractor by your employer. After reading this you should feel ready to begin work and confident that you will not be taken advantage of by the many tricky employment laws in Aotearoa, but if you need more advice: Other places to get advice: Wellington Community Law: Free law advice with specific drop in sessions around employment on Wednesday’s between 5:30 – 7:00 https://www.wclc.org.nz/ Citizen’s Advice Bureau: Free advice from trained members of the public. https://www.cab.org.nz/location/cab-central-wellington Employment New Zealand: The official website for all employment law. You can search on their website https://www.employment.govt.nz/  or call them for free on 0800 20 90 20 VUWSA Advocacy: We are able to provide free and confidential advice about your employment situation advocate@vuwsa.org.nz

DAN MOSKOVITZ (HE/HIM) The government last week announced a reset of the welfare system, with the number of beneficiaries sanctioned expected to spike dramatically.  Sanctions are usually issued for jobseekers failing to meet their commitments, such as attending job interviews. They can be financial, and can result in the beneficiary's stipend being cut, suspended, or cancelled. National is introducing a traffic light system for beneficiaries: a green level for beneficiaries meeting obligations, followed by an orange level for first and second breaches, which will result in “ targeted support, such as more regular check-ins and/or attendance at job workshops.” Finally a third breach will see the beneficiary move to the red level: potential sanctions include benefit reductions, suspensions, and compulsory community work.  “If job seekers fail to attend job interviews, to complete their pre-employment tasks, or to take work that is available, then there needs to be consequences,” said Social Development minister Louise Upston in her press release announcing the reforms. The reforms will not apply to those with permanent disabilities.  “Penalising people who are struggling does nothing to create decent jobs,” said Green Party Social Development spokesperson, Ricardo Menéndez March in a statement. “We can prevent the further entrenchment of poverty across Aotearoa by lifting income support, adequately supporting families who transition into employment and ensuring disabled people are treated with respect and dignity.” Prior government reports on the efficacy of benefit sanctions have been damning on their lack of effectiveness.  A 2018  report commissioned by the government stated “a very harsh sanctions regime can have important adverse effects that drive people away from, rather than closer to, employment, and might worsen rather than improve the long-term chances of children in the families affected.” In 2019 , the Welfare Advisory Group found sanctions were costly, ineffective, and compounded social harm. The report went on to state “we do not support the continued use of a financial sanctioning regime.” 2021 research  from the Beneficiary Advisory Service suggested many sanctions occurred because the beneficiary in question did not understand their obligations.  98% of disputed sanctions were overturned, implying most were applied incorrectly.  VUW Professor of Taxation, Lisa Marriott, who studies social justice and inequality, concurs with the literature.  “We have this phrase called beneficiary bashing, and that’s exactly what this policy is,” said Marriott.  “There are relatively few groups who advocate for beneficiaries, and they’re less well represented than other groups. I think it makes them an easy target.” A 2022  literature review from Scotland did conclude sanctions are effective in moving people into work. However, the same review also concluded sanctions are ineffective at keeping people working long-term, and could increase both health issues and sanctioned beneficiaries’ ability to financially survive.  What this results in, as Marriott explains, is beneficiaries ending up elsewhere in the system and a higher total cost than if their benefit had never been cut in the first place.  “On average, someone without stable housing is spending 100 nights a year in hospital. The cost of doing so is enormous. When you move people into stable housing, that drops to an average of eight nights a year. “It’s the same story with the justice system - sanctions push people into what’s called survival crime because they don’t have any way to support themselves. “By taking away people’s minor safety nets, you’re setting them up to pop up elsewhere in the system, which is likely to cost more in the long term.”

After a summer away, it’s time to get back into shape, right? Thankfully, the university has a gym on-campus. Dan Moskovitz reviews Unirec. If you read nothing else in this article, know this; the Kelburn gym has several floors. The ground floor is an excellent space to work out. I took months to realize there was a whole other space I wasn’t utilizing.  With that PSA out of the way, let’s have an overview of the gym proper. The top floor is a useful stretching and core area, the second floor has most of the traditional machines and weights, and on the ground floor there’s an open space alongside bench and squat racks. All in all, the space is utilized well and there’s something for everyone. This is all the Kelburn gym however. As for Unirec’s Pipitea gym, my advice is one word; don’t.  Found in the basement of Rutherford House, Pipitea’s gym is cramped. It’s got less equipment, its vibe is depressing, and it’s just not a fun place to workout.  Admittedly, I’ve only gone there once when the kelburn gym closed due to maintenance work. Still once was enough to convince me to get a hold on my membership the next time maintenance work closed Kelburn’s gym. Price wise, as a student, you can get a year for $209. Divided by the 52 weeks in a year, and you’re paying $4.02 per week at the gym. If you can find a cheaper price in Wellington, I’d love to hear about it.  Though if you’ll be elsewhere in Aotearoa during the uni breaks, you might be better off getting Unirec’s $199 orientation deal, which gives access until the end of trimester two. However, it comes up to $5.10 per week.  Note the above offer expires on 10 March, so get it while you can.  I’m also yet to hear a bad word said about any of the personal trainers, or any of the staff, for that matter. I’ve needed to get targeted advice on countering muscle imbalances and dealing with back issues a couple of times, and both times the personal trainers at Unirec have been superb.  An hour-long session costs only $35 and you can get five of them for $160, charging you $32 per session. Again, I’d be surprised to find cheaper in Wellington, and there’s an even cheaper program for gym newbies.  There are a couple of pieces of equipment I wish Unirec had - an assisted pull up machine and a genuine leg press would round it out well, but ultimately the gym’s equipment does a solid job, regardless of how or what you wish to train. Ultimately, if you're on the fence about Unirec; go for it. As long as you’re using the Kelburn gym.

Words by: Guy van Egmond (he/him) Content warning: suicide I am genuinely lost for words, trying to describe Twenty Minutes to Nine. It was nostalgic, raw, grim and witty, heart-sinking and furious and so painfully wise. Absolutely phenomenal.  The show is personal even before it starts. I’m sitting in the front of two rows of seats, so there’s no doubt it’ll be an intimate show. Amanda (Santuccione (They/Her), the show’s writer and performer) asks what we’re up to afterwards, if we’d be alright to wait another 5 minutes for the last few people. In the end it’s me, a mother-and-adult-son duo, three other women and Amanda. We chat back and forth about hills and penguins, public transport and spilt beer.  Then suddenly, with only the quieting of the house music, it begins.  Amanda knows their show so inside and out that it feels no different than our small talk just before. Effortlessly conversational, she lays out the foundations of her life: her father playing ‘Blackbird’ in the evenings, moving to the not-a-farm around the block, her brothers and their rock, jazz, blues, folk bands. From the get-go, we’re drawn into the world as they see it, the world they grew up in. Zero time is wasted with cliche or generalisation; her dedication to detail is vivid and so full of love. They also build their world with more than words. Through subtle mime and mimicking, she laughs at the way her mother would ask for a cup of tea as you’re just getting up, and send it back when it wasn’t perfect. Those habits that drive you up the wall. Those habits you didn’t know you loved until they’re gone.  Because Twenty Minutes to Nine is, ultimately, a show about loss. A sharing of grief and pain and the confusion when people are suddenly taken from you, or choose to leave. Amanda knows loss more keenly than most others, and is entirely candid about it. Death took an incredible toll on their life, and this isn’t a miracle success story where everything is suddenly golden again. But it is a story that stubbornly remembers the good times. A story that tells you of the night that Jaspar was found, pauses, and then says “I met Jaspar at 18. He looked like a young John Lennon.”  Beyond the memories and anecdotes, the show is a call to action. It’s angry, against a profit-driven healthcare system that gives people open access to suicidal amounts of prescription drugs. It’s angry, against a system that won’t accept a call for help as an emergency, not until it’s too late. But it’s angry, not resigned; her story is driven by hope. Grief doesn’t ever leave you, Amanda says, but it changes. You learn to live with it. It can take a painfully long time, but the hard times will pass.  Most of all however, the show is a celebration. Through her multitalented performances, Amanda remembers and honours the beautiful people they’ve shared their life with, those still at the party and those who’ve left. Her guitar echoed her father’s serenades and made soundscape backgrounds for her poetry about femininity. Their beautiful accordion performance remembered music lessons with their grandfather, and the last conversation they had with their grandmother. Amanda Santuccione is one of the most talented storytellers I have ever met, who’s undeniable affection and dedication left tears prickling in my eyes, as our gentle claps became a rapturous applause.  Twenty Minutes to Nine is still running, from Thursday 29 th  till Sunday the 2 nd  at two/fiftyseven on Willis St. I urge anyone who can to go see this truly shattering, heartfelt performance.

Words by Phoebe Pierard (she/her) Greeted by a wondrously energetic, excited, and (most probably) exhausted crew after an intense season, this beautifully immersive show was the perfect distraction from my bad breakup earlier in the week.  Oh That Theatre Company’s Fringe show Icky, written by Viki Moananu, won the Best Play by a Pasifika Playwright for the Adams NZ Play Award 2023 and was shortlisted in Playmarket’s Playwrights B425 competition. Lizzy Burton-Wood’s direction reshaped the experience by organising the stage in ‘traverse style’. The set-up acted as an aisle of life: two chairs on either side and a doorway in the centre. Icky, a meandering and mournful student, played by Moananu, paced and slipped into different timelines as they muddled their way through grief, yet marvellously wove a tale of university embarrassment, shitty friendships, and neglectful, flawed parents.  Though the focus was on Moananu’s superb acting with the feel of a solo show, Burton-Wood supported the act in the corner as a musician, foley artist, and voice actor, using wine bottles, paper, blocks, ukulele, and guitar. The lighting and stage production was seamless. The sparse Dome in BATS Theatre was lit up, from a rainy blue to a rager of a student party (where dice cup and monopoly were played simultaneously?!) The relationship between the crew was intoxicating and perfectly supported the play. The dramedy cushioned the dismay of the plot and Icky’s grief with humour. There were gentle reminders that this was  a play that was self-aware of its situation through jokes and, at times, with the knowing looks between the operator, Angela Pelham, Burton-Wood, and Moananu. Likewise, the audience was acknowledged for their place in the play—at times acting as bodies over which Burton-Wood would act their lines, and at times acknowledged directly, as with Icky’s slightly ambiguous, poignant comment that they were just talking to “you guys” when they found out about their father’s death. These elements of using mime and bodiless voices to tell the story made this play more acutely a commentary on aloneness, storytelling, and grief. The play between hearing both sides of the conversation through voice acting and Viki’s lines and, at times, only hearing Viki’s responses and commentary, kept a fresh and engaging perspective. The show’s closing, where the giant Tartar Sauce draws Icky out of their tumultuous spiral through dancing and pulling a reluctant Icky through the transformative doorway, emphasised the importance of people and acknowledging and processing grief.  While the night I viewed the show had a lousy audience (some of the jokes didn’t reach the desired response), the show delivered an enticing and rich Wellingtonian experience. Sprinkled with camp and ironic use of xylophones, Icky  was a show that spoke to the experiences and lives of students and the youth in Aotearoa. A visionary performance of queerness, mental health, and grief that reminded us of the importance of saying “goodbye”.

Q: Is it too soon to move in together? My boyfriend and I, both 20, have been together for 2 years. While my friends and family think it's too quick, I feel it's been fine. Am I being naive?  At the age of twenty, I entered my first "serious" relationship. He spent at least four nights a week with me. I was enjoying the freedom of living independently, without parents or rules, but I quickly grew reliant on his presence. I would get frustrated, furious even if he could not join me every night or so.. My stability was utterly dependent on him being in my bed nearly-every night. We didn’t live together, but the big-codependency-bear is real. Don’t lose your individuality by trying to grow up too quickly.  I want to preface this advice with the idea that something being ‘too quick’, is created by society's expectations. There is no official timeline for anything. There may be unique factors in your relationship which have led you to living with your partner. Maybe something traumatic has occurred and you need that support? Maybe it reduces living costs, enabling you to live in the city? If so, then I am sure that this is the best decision for you both.  However, you are 20-fucking-years-old.  You’ve been together for two years. That means  you met in high-school.  Look, maybe this person is  your soul-mate, twin-flame, or whatever other tik-tok-created-pet-name you want to call them. However, that does not revoke the fact that you have got your entire life  to live with your partner. Whilst you have your entire life to live with your partner, you only have  limited time where you can live with your best friends. Living with friends is nothing short of the most transformative moments of your life, and in my opinion, one of the most rewarding aspects of being in your twenties. The personal development that occurs when living in a flat with your besties is unmatched.  You create life-long friendships and lessons which are priceless.  So, to answer your question, I don’t know all your circumstances, I cannot say whether you’re being naive or not. What I can say is that by choosing to live with your partner you are missing out on unrepeatable  life moments - when you literally don’t have too.  Ask yourself, is living with a person you met in high school really worth sacrificing irreplaceable moments of your youth, friendships and self-development?  Is it really worth it when you can have the best of both worlds? You can live with your friends, experience personal development, friendship and learning  as you enter the adult world, and then; live with your high-school-sweet-heart-eternal-twin-flame-lover in the future. You don’t even have to break up. Don’t cut yourself short. You don’t need to be wifed up and settled at the ripe age of twenty, save that for 2030. Enjoy life while it’s in front of you, it sounds like you’re trying to grow up when you don’t have too.  Need a hand? Send your anonymous questions here !

Passively-aggressively shouted by Ashleigh Putt-Fallows (she/her) Ngāpuhi-Ngāti Hine, Ngāti Whātua, Tūhoe If you don’t know what the reo means - google it :) As we come to the end of our holidays and close to the end of the first two months of the year, I think it’s important to acknowledge what has already been happening in Aotearoa New Zealand’s political space. Here is summary (I do implore you to look into these in more detail):  Hui aa Motu, Rātana and Waitangi.  Hui aa Motu:  In late 2023, Kiingi Tuuheitia announced Hui aa Motu following a Te Paki o Matariki, a significant royal proclamation. It urged all Māori to unite and ensure all have a voice in holding the government accountable. It was a rare occasion, the first such national hui since 2012, when it occurred over Māori water rights, and prior to that, the year of my birth. Historical moments.  Held 20th January 2024 at Tuurangawaewae Marae in Waikato or over livestream, hosted by Waikato Tainui. This hui came as a result of the response Kiingi had seen towards the new Coalition government, and one day after the ‘Treaty Bill’ was leaked to the public. Over 10,000 people attended, including representatives from various iwi. All opposition parties as well as National. Notably, ACT and NZF were absent, drawing criticism. Five breakout sessions were held:  Wellbeing of People Economy, Te Reo and Tikanga, Rangatahi, Treaty and Environment ,   and National Unity .   Each had  speakers, and space for anyone to share. Themes of Kotahitanga, Mana Motuhaketanga, Tuakiritanga and Wāheke dominated discussions, focusing on solutions amidst valid government criticism. The rangatahi forum in particular was big on moving away from Pōneke. Every conversation was critical, not all need to be shared externally, and some I don’t have space for in this. I suggest you read the full document produced once available to the public.  Rātana:  Rātana marks the beginning of the Māori political calendar, but I couldn't make it due to budget constraints. It's the first gathering attended by all government parties. Rātana, both a church and political movement, has played a crucial role in Māori politics. The holiday commemorates the birthday of Tahupōtiki Wiremu Rātana, a revered prophet.  Held around January 25th, 2024, at Rātana Pā, Whanganui, the event usually aims to decentralize politics, but this year, centrality was inevitable. Te Kiingitanga presence was notable, passing on Mauri and Hui aa Motu's documents to the government. Parties normally would attend together, but Te Pāti Māori attended alongside Kiingitanga, while ACT's absence drew criticism. Despite a festive atmosphere, discussions at Rātana were intense, with speakers strongly criticizing the new government and its Treaty bill. Shane Jones criticized kaikōrero for using Rātana for such debates, suggesting they be saved for Waitangi.  Waitangi:  Waitangi commemorates when Te Tiriti o Waitangi was signed in 1840 between iwi Māori and the Crown. To note the english and Māori versions are not the same, and are not interchangeable.  Held annually from February 4th to 6th in Waitangi, the event is inherently political, and this year was notably charged with palpable anger. Despite the positive atmosphere, there was a strong sense of Mana Motuhake, emphasizing Māori sovereignty and the importance of honoring te Tiriti o Waitangi. Tensions escalated. The three headed taniwha was likened to sand flies and spiders, memes were shared of them in a negative light, speakers from the government were booed, heckled and sung over. Our deputy PMs effectively suggested they have better things to do then be there. Both threw sulks about what they got called, and Luxon recycled the same speech from the year before. It's safe to say they did not ease tensions with Māori. In fact they shot in the opposite direction. Responses to this, like Hikoi ki Waitangi and Tama Iti’s blank canvas protest, have fast become defining images of this year's Waitangi Day. From political action to traditional demonstrations of our beautiful culture, there is so much more. I implore you to have a more detailed look, this and all the events mentioned deserve to be known by more than the political action that occurs at them.  On a personal note if our terrible two tantrum deputy PMs ever see this - Me pēhea koe ehara nō kuhu ki te whenua, ngā whenua o ōku iwi, e mau nei te ingoa o tōku kuia me te kore whakaute. E tipu ake, ka nanu koe i ō tūpuna.  This year I was very privileged to attend Hui aa Motu and, for the first time, Waitangi. It was an interesting, amazing and at times infuriating experience; the overall feeling was throwing gasoline on the fire. As we saw beginning in 2023, Māori are mobilizing and unifying, something I can only imagine, after what we have seen in only the first two months, will continue in 2024.  Toitū Te Tiriti  Mana Motuhake

Explored and Catalogued by Sabrina Gates (she/her) When I first decided to make the move to Te Whanganui-ā-tara, my Wellington-native Dad was delighted. All his fond and foolish memories flooded into his mind’s eye as he recounted, “you know, I probably have a memory on every street corner of that place”. After three short years in this city, I already felt I could agree to his statement. Wellington can feel small, especially when it’s assignment season and campus feels like a never-ending liminal space. Do not give in to this! Seek the crevasses and hidden gems.  Coffee, Beer, and Food. Start your residence here by enjoying the culinary creativity of the city, with so many options and cuisines. These are a drop in the harbour of what the baristas, chefs, and brewers of Pōneke have to offer.    Swimsuit, 5 Lombard Street Tucked away in a cosy nook on Lombard Street, a friendly barista brews an unmistakably Wellingtonian oat milk flat white. Lombard Street provides the perfect seclusion for study, hungover debriefs, great coffee, and highly addictive cheese scones. Swimsuits Dixon Street location is also great, its fishbowl interior and outside tables making it ideal for people watching.  The Rogue and Vagabond, 18 Garrett Street It’s 4pm on Friday, and you’ve just finished your last class of the week. Outside the lecture hall, the sun beats down on the hustle and bustle of students excited about the new year. Situated just 10 minutes away in Glover Park is a crisp Ginger Fusion 4% beverage from Rogue. Accompanied by live jazzy tunes, picnic style seating, and impeccable vibes—you won’t want to miss out.  Cafe Laz, 112 Cuba Street I couldn’t make this without shouting out my favourite kebab spot in the city. With a main restaurant in Newtown, they also have a quaint street stall at the entrance of Left Bank, just off Cuba Mall. The falafel kebab…lord…it’s so fresh and the portions are ridiculous.  Walks, Swims, and Picnics. Te Whanganui-ā-tara packs a whole lot of natural beauty into a small harbour. Familiarise yourself with the Metlink app (the Catchy  app is not-so-laggy alternative) and get exploring! Brooklyn Windmill, entrance at 231 Aro Street If you are new to Wellington, I challenge you and a friend to walk off the Sunday scaries with a march up to the windmill. Taking in Pōneke from above the hills changed my perspective of the city, and provided me a sense of direction and place—so important when moving somewhere new. If walking isn’t an option, the windmill is accessible by road so anyone can enjoy the view. Central Park, Brooklyn Road When I lived in town, I would trek this short loop every day to clear my head. I find immersing myself in nature helps to balance my mental health during the trimester, something that can be extra hard in halls. Not far from Kelburn Campus, Central Park is an inner-city oasis rich with native and exotic bush, streams, birds, and fungi of all kinds. It’s also a great picnic spot if you fancy! Princess Bay Beach, Te Aranui o Pōneke A rocky shoreline cradles this quaint sandy beach. Some of my fondest memories, of building bonfires and enjoying the best sunsets in Pōneke, have been made here. It’s a really special place. You may need to organise some transport to get here, but it is worth it.  Beyond Courtney Place  Post O-week, I’m sure many of you are more than familiar with the feral nature of Courtney Place on a weekend. Some can’t get enough of this stretch, and others will be left wondering—is that all there is of Pōneke nightlife? Do not fret, freshers, there is more to discover.  Meow, 9 Edward Street Meow is my go-to venue, with a diverse variety of shows and indoor-outdoor spaces. I’ve found the sound to be a let down sometimes, but the energy is always there! It’s also great to support their fundraising mahi, such as the Music 4 Palestine gig last year which brought together community awareness and donations for Palestinian whānau. Keep an eye on their schedule to snag early bird tickets as door sale prices can break the bank.  Valhalla, 154 Vivian Street One of the few places left with an authentically grimey club atmosphere where one can boogie into the early AMs. On a busy night, this spot is full to the brim. Here you will see the best (and worst) of the Pōneke DJ scene, which I highly encourage getting familiar with. Moon Bar, 167 Riddiford Street If you don’t check out Newtown nightlife at some point, you’re missing out. Moon Bar is where DJs as old as your Dad will be cranking the groove and funk tunes that only a seasoned mixer could spin. The crowd is local so it’s always best to respect the veterans by having a bloody good time. These are just a handful of the spaces my peers and I have come to love in the city, but there are many more! Finding your own spots to frequent is half of the fun, so go forth and enjoy all that Te Whanganui-ā-tara has to offer!

words by Miriama Campbell (she/her) Kia ora e hoa, ko Miri ahau. I hear you'reyour new here; don’t worry, I was a fresher too. Let me tell you about my experience as a first year studying at Te Herenga Waka. My first year was 2022, right as we were starting to see the possibility of a return to normality after the covid lockdowns. And honestly, the first tri was absolute shit. Although I like to blame it on the covid restrictions, allowing me to do all my courses from the comfort of my single sized bed, in my quarantined hall. I made the mistake of putting minimal effort into seeking help, and lost my way. But not you, you’re going to be better than me. Here's some quick tips to stay fresh. Kanohi ki te kanohi Go to campus Only use zoom if you need it Take rough notes in class, use the online notes to tidy them up at home Join a club! Whakawhānaungatanga is really the best thing you can do, especially as a Māori in a Pākehā system. Ngāi Tauira was my lifeline. Find people similar to you, you can find friends in halls too but don’t limit yourself. Take the pressure off Uni is important but so are you. Take care of yourself. Āwhina is the Māori student support group here, they can help with anything e hoa, trust them Stay hydrated Drink water. Always. It helps with the hangovers too. Kia Waimarie!! Nā Miriama Campbell

Embracing Belonging Through Club Engagement Words by UniQ President Khai Dye-Brinkman (they/them) Entering university marks a pivotal moment in one's life, a transition into newfound independence and self-discovery. For many, university clubs serve as vital conduits to forge connections and foster a sense of community. My own journey as a fresher led me to UniQ, the queer students’ club, where I discovered a profound sense of community. UniQ, like many university clubs, offered more than just a space for socialization; it provided a sanctuary where individuals of all backgrounds and orientations could converge without judgment. Walking into UniQ's events, I was greeted with warmth and openness, instantly dispelling any apprehensions I had. The club's commitment to inclusivity transcended mere rhetoric; it was palpable in every interaction, fostering an environment where diversity was not just acknowledged but celebrated. Engaging with UniQ extended beyond casual gatherings; it became a catalyst for personal growth and self-acceptance. Through discussions, events, and unwavering support from fellow members, I found the courage to embrace my identity. UniQ became more than a club; it evolved into a lifeline, a beacon of hope in navigating the complexities of university life. My experience with UniQ underscores the power of club engagement in fostering a sense of community. Whether one identifies within the LGBTQ+ spectrum or not, the essence of belonging transcends labels, encapsulating the universal yearning for connection and acceptance. As I continue my journey through university, I carry with me the invaluable lessons learned within UniQ's embrace: that true belonging lies not in conformity but in the unapologetic celebration of our authentic selves.