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This term the UNInformant will be reporting from Wellington. He has been exiled due to the earthquake but will be back for the 2nd semester when hopefully people will have forgotten about the article he wrote with the opening line of "Man I hate Christchurch".

I arrived at Wellington Airport already wearing my yuppie-best. I figured I should try to fit in with the Wellington public, so I was appropriately dressed like a young douchebag. They would never have suspected that I was actually a poor student. I had gone shopping the day before for work-clothes, dropping a lot of cash, but it was okay because I used my Studylink course-related costs. Pants count as "travel-related costs", right? The saleswoman seemed to agree.
My internship began in only a few days, but I had yet to find a place to live. Since I am still paying rent in Christchurch, I had to be a little creative. There was a Trade Me page for Christchurch Earthquake Relief Accommodation, but they hadn't been updated much since late February. I then signed up to couchsurfing.org, a worldwide community of over two million people who offer their couches to travelers – the great thing is that some of them aren't total hippies. The terms and conditions included the sentence: "I understand that Couchsurfing.org is not a dating site", however according to some of the profiles ("I have space on my couch, or in my double-bed :)") it seems like many people don't read that far.
There were over 200 couches possibly available in Wellington, so I sent out emails to some of the less-hippy-types with a sentence about being an earthquake refugee. The response, however, wasn't overwhelming. It might be that I had no current Couchsurfer experiences or friends to vouch for me (which is how other members deduce that you aren't a serial killer), and I didn't pay the US$36.04 that you can "donate" to become a verified member. It might also be that most of the people I emailed were totally high.

I then learned about a website called quakeescape.org.nz, which is an amazing site where over 20,000 beds have been made available. Many people seemed really willing to help out, and within a day I had found a family who would put me up for a couple of weeks, and several possible others to get me through the duration of my internship. So for now, I basically had a host family, and – best of all – family dinners.
This family hadn't received any interest for their available room until I came along. They were saying how they really felt helpless hearing about what was going on in Christchurch and wanted to do something. That's why they were so happy to accommodate me for a while. I was a bit embarrassed by their generosity, but on the other hand it's nice that I could allow them to help out. Sometimes receiving is the best gift you can give – just ask George Michael.
It wasn't all good, however. One person from Earthquake Relief replied to me saying he didn't think I was "urgent enough." Firstly – although I understand where he is coming from – fuck him. And secondly, how do we define ourselves as a victim? I was fine, all my friends were fine, I was renting and the flat is still standing, I had no possessions broken (mainly because I own nothing of value to start with), and I didn't have a job to lose. Sure, I now look and act like a yuppie, and am happy to be in Wellington for the remainder of the semester, but should I feel guilty for making the most of the opportunity? I just don't think self-pity should be a pre-requisite for a refugee, and besides, my ass looks too good in these pants to care.