South Island NZ: Ridiculous Beauty and Extreme Sports

After flying back into New Zealand February 20^th from Australia, we hopped a final (thank God) flight down to Christchurch on the South Island. After our multiple run-ins with early morning flights and natural disasters in Australia, Hannah and I were overjoyed to have our “el cheapo” rental car to call home base for the next 3 weeks.

 

Less population and more diverse landscapes mean that the South Island is a popular destination for trampers (hikers), van hippies and nature buffs. And, after 2 weeks we can easily say of the South Island: the funk is temporary, the feeling is permanent (i.e. “we smell real bad, but we’re smiling”).

 

Arriving in Christchurch, we met up with Danit and Raz (Servas hosts from Israel). Welcomed into their home, we talked late into the night about New Zealand, Israel (both Danit and Raz grew up on a kabutz) and the United States.

 

The next day we all headed out and about in Christchurch with their two kids and visited the botanical gardens and central city. As the largest city on the South Island, Christchurch is a popular stopover for folks taking a break off working in Antarctica and travelers beginning their South Island journeys.

 

As we picked up our “El Cheapo” rental car the next morning, we felt the thrill of freedom blow through our tangled hair as we took off to visit the nearby peninsula created from a volcanic crater and the small French-themed village of Akaroa.

 

The drive to Akaroa was really the best part of the experience. Fields of sheep munched away along the sides of the road and large farms spread in every direction up the steep sides of the volcanic crater.

 

Before meeting up with our Servas host for the evening, we visited an olive oil maker and cheese factory outside town and drove up into the cloudy hills to search for thrilling views of the bay and the sea. Our hopes for a penguin and dolphin viewing cruise were dashed by the fact that we had (apparently) missed the end of the Summer tourist season by one day, but the overlooks were breath taking as we drove up into the hills towards the top of the old volcano.

 

Val was our Servas host for the evening. She was a smaller 80-year-old lady with white, white hair who looked as though she was about 60. Perhaps it’s all the meditation or a strict vegan diet and good energy crystals, but this lady looked good for 80! Val also has some alternative views on life and spirituality. She believes in reincarnation, telepathic messaging and aliens, so the conversation definitely took on a life all its own as we sat around chatting and opening can after can of worms.

 

After eating a lovely vegan breakfast the next morning, we all parted with hugs and blessings and Hannah and I took off in the misty rain on our way towards Mount Cook, New Zealand’s highest mountain, located among the Southern Alps, where much of Lord of the Rings was filmed. The next few days were filled with a boat rode on a glacier lake and a hike to the terminal face of Hooker glacier (apparently, the guy who named it was a Hooker or something).

 

Our time at Mount Cook also saw the end of my patience with hostel life. Sleeping in a different eight-bed dorm every night with a smattering of 19 year olds is a practice in patience. If one more person had come in late at night when 7 out of the 8 people in the room were fast asleep and turned on the overhead light in order to open her pack and rustle through every single one of the seemingly myriad plastic bags she had packed her face washing regime in, I swear I would have cracked. Thankfully, there were only a few more such hostels on our journey.

 

After leaving the crowded hostel at Mount Cook, we continued on South and checked out some of the sky blue colored lakes on our way down to Queenstown (extreme sport capital of NZ – but more on that later)…

 

Apparently, the lakes are bright blue due to the “rock on rock action” (direct guide book quote) that is created by the moving glacier. The “rock on rock action” (believe me, it never gets oldJ) creates a fine dusting of rock particles in the water, which settle to the bottom of the lake and create a layer that reflects the blue light waves, thereby making the lakes a bright, bright blue.

 

Our time in Queenstown was highlighted by Hannah hurtling herself off a 40 meter high bungee bridge and going out dancing into the wee hours of the morning with the Queenstown locals (none of whom were local). After one last night sleeping in a Queenstown party hostel in the room (of course) under the screaming/laughing/smoking deck, we were happy to make our way further into the more subdued South into the Fiordlands Park and Milford Sound.

 

Over the next few days we drove down to the sound through breathtaking wilderness, cruised around the sound via boat and kayak, spotted a flightless parrot (Kea) digging through our trash, fought with swarms of sand flies and experienced the most beautiful natural environs of any country I’ve ever seen.

 

The most amazing experience, however, happened our first night there. After tramping off into the woods with a flashlight to search out the glowworms hanging under the rocky eaves along a nearby forest path, we managed to catch a sight of the clear Southern Hemisphere night sky.

 

One never forgets how it feels to see the Milky Way from earth. I remember my first time: laying on a grassy beach peering up at the Northern Hemisphere constellation on a lake edge in Canada, watching the Northern Lights shimmer across the sky.

 

And, I will indubitably remember my second introduction to the shining, shooting constellation of lights in Milford Sound. To be in the middle of the wilderness, on a small island thousands of kilometers from the next continent, many thousands of kilometers from the light pollution of Asia or the United States and laying under the enormity of the universe, enveloped in the knowledge of one’s own insignificance in the bigger scheme of things is an amazing experience.

 

Two days later, as my tandem partner and I were hurtling ourselves out of a plane at 15,000 feet to dive into the sky above the mountains, rivers, and farm fields, I was again in awe of how small we really are. As the earth approached at 180 km an hour and our 60 seconds of free fall ticked away before the parachute popped, I spread out my arms and felt the resistance of the air pushing my cheeks back against my goggles.

 

My guide (who shall henceforth be called Hotty McHotterson, due to the fact that I forgot his name) does this about 15 times a day with 15 different people. I was amazed at my realization that anything really can get old as I asked him if he ever got bored of jumping and I swear he actually shrugged at 10,000 feet and said, “I have my days.” Try cubicle life (I thought to myself but did not say).

 

Over the last couple of days we traversed the South Island and drove up the scenic, sparsely populated western coast, stopping in little one horse towns for Diet Coke and bathroom breaks and the all important fuel stops before the next one 200 km down the road.

 

We also made our way onto the river of ice, Fox Glacier, which runs down from the mountain towards the Tasman Sea. As we strapped into our cramp-ons and trudged up the fast-moving (1 meter a day!) block of ice, our guide explained that if trends in warming continue, the huge glacier will actually be completely gone in 20 years. As we stared down into the crevices and ice caves along the trek, it seemed impossibly sad that such an amazing work nature will soon be melted away.

 

To alleviate our sadness, we delighting in explaining the scientific term “rock on rock action” to our skeptical guide, Andrew, who seemed rather amazed that a tourist had actually told him something new. I don’t know if you know this, but we’re kind of a big deal.

 

Leaving our celebrity status behind, Hannah and I moved on Northward up the coast into Nelson, where we met up with a friend from my course in Auckland and checked out Abel Tasman national park (arguably the most beautiful beaches in the world).

As I write we’re sitting on the ferry on our way over to the capital city of New Zealand, Wellington, for a few days of Maori culture museums, immunizations for my upcoming trips to Cambodia and India, pleading conversations and prayers for expediency with the Indian visa authorities and promises of amazing Nepalese food and jazz from another local friend we’re visiting.  Hannah flies out Tuesday for her return to the states and I travel on north stopping to visit friends and check out the North Island before my departure for Cambodia at the end of March.

It has been an amazing 5 weeks in New Zealand and Australia. We’ve met so many different characters and personalities and experienced many beautiful sights, sounds and tastes.

Upcoming adventures include a move to Cambodia, where I will be volunteering with PEPY Ride, potential trips to surrounding countries (Vietnam, Laos and Thailand), jaunts through India and Nepal, over to Italy to hang out with Anna Banana and finally a job in Istanbul (yes, I am actually gainfully employed in a high school there, or will be as of September 1^st 2009).

I am in awe of the natural beauty I have seen here and know now, more than ever before, that my decision to travel will be one I never regret. Self shock therapy indeed. 

New Zealand and Australia Travels: A visual picture of the journey

Ok, so I've been getting the feeling that some folks are getting the "deer in headlights" look while reading the blog, so here are some visual pics of where we've been traveling.

See below on New Zealand map:

1. Auckland, NZ: Peaches and Silverbeet - written while I was doing the CELTA in Auckland. All in Auckland.

2. Northland Bound: Glow worms, Protests and Long Beaches - written on our sojourn northward from Auckland the first week of Feb.

More to come!: This is where we're traveling now - around the South Island and up through the North back to Auckland. 

And for Australia on the map below:

3. Australia: Land of fire and flood - Written during our trip to Australia for two weeks in the middle of February.

Hope this gives a better view!

Australia: Land of fire and flood

After our New Zealand adventures up in Northland above Auckland, Hannah and I made for an early morning budget red eye flight (to become a recurring theme in our upcoming adventures) and skipped across the 1400-mile “puddle” to Australia (OZ).

The past two weeks have been a whirlwind tour of cities and villages in OZ, including eclectic/kitsch Melbourne, tropical/seedy Cairns, rain-forested/tourist-thick Kuranda, mountainous/breath-taking Katoomba (in the Blue Mountains) and cosmopolitan/historical Sydney. All in all, we traversed a distance the height of the continental United States (which is about the same size as Australia), sticking to the inhabitable (supposedly) Eastern Coast, where 75% of the Australian populace resides.

After a quick one-night stay and most gracious quick-tour of Sydney with my friend Mitchell (whom I met on the bike ride in Japan) we began our multi-city tour in Melbourne, in the southern state of Victoria, which was burning.

After ascertaining that we were definitely “safe” from the deadly bushfires rampaging through the state only 30 km outside the city (!?) we made our way to the home of our Servas hosts - Zofia and Martand. Whilst sharing an awesome dinner and a few glasses of wine with our gracious hosts, we watched as the casualty count from the fires continued to rise, and friends and family called on the phone to make sure they were ok. “Oh yes, we’re perfectly safe here” they assured them as Hannah and I caught wide-eyed glances from one another across the room.

The fires in Victoria this year are of unprecedented strength and voracity. Australia is the driest continent on the earth and each year bushfires tear through the driest areas, threatening homes and lives much like the fires that often rush through California. Usually, however (as ozzie after ozzie explained patiently) no more than 15 people die and one can usually stay in one’s home to fight the embers that fall inside (as homes burn from the inside out). This year, however, was different.

Australians who have lived in the bush their entire lives stayed to fight the fires and were burned alive in an awful carnage that claimed the lives of over 200 men, women and children. It was a terrible spectacle, and a potent reminder of Mother Nature in all her rampage. The president even appeared on television to make an announcement and was overcome with tears and emotion in the midst of his words of support.

We couldn’t travel out of Melbourne to the wine country just east, due to the fact that the majority was in flames, but instead stayed within the city confines of Melbourne to enjoy the hip, eclectic crowds that throng the city streets. We traveled to the top of the second-highest office building to view the fires (easily visible just above the northern suburbs!) and, later, enjoyed a beer while watching the busy pedestrians in spandex track suits file through Flinders street train station downtown.

After a sad three days, we made our way again to an early morning airport and headed north – far, far north almost 2,500 miles (about 4,000 km) - to Cairns in the state of Queensland, which was flooded.

We made sure that Cairns itself was not flooded (an assured voice on the other end of the youth hostel call was sure there was nothing to worry about, as the floods were almost 100 km away), and disembarked in the sticky and tropical late morning air.

We walked around Cairns for a few hours before realizing that we’d come to a tropical paradise completely devoid of swimmable beaches. Due to the threat of crocodiles, box jellyfish, stingrays, great white sharks and any other array of swimming things that might kill one quickly, it is highly inadvisable to swim in any of Cairns beaches. Instead, a large wading pool in the center of town fills up with locals and tourists alike, yearning to stay cool and feel “beachy.”

Later that evening, happy to get out of the seedy, tourist store-thick downtown in Cairns, we caught a bus headed up into the rain forested mountains above the town to meet with our Servas hosts, Graham and Terrie, who live in the small tourist village of Kuranda.

It was lovely in the mountains, and the forests around their home were full of papayas, mangoes, passionfruit and tropical plants and animals of all kinds. Every few minutes a huge “bang!” (not unlike a gunshot) could be heard on the roof as the rainforest birds disengaged fruits from their limbs and hurled them down to break open on the roof.

That evening and the next day we made sure to continually spray on insect repellant in the hopes of not contracting Dengue fever and joined the crowds of tourists by visiting the animal houses in town, seeing freshwater crocodiles and mini kangaroos and koalas up close and personal. Finally, we hiked down to see the most spectacular site in the village – the beautiful Barron Falls, from which flows most of the hydropower for the city of Cairns and local environs.

Upon returning to Cairns the next day, we booked a Great Barrier Reef tour and settled in to our clean, albeit mildewed hostel. 

At which point, dear friends, I came face to face with my late 20’s. When asked whether I would like to pass out in the pool at 2 p.m. in the afternoon, I am likely to say “no.” And, given the choice of shooting back pineapple upside down cake shots till 3 a.m. or getting a good night’s sleep before an early morning dive, I am more likely to retire to my mildewed den and throw in my $1.99 ear plugs to drown out the vibrating beat from the bar downstairs.

When morning broke the day of our Great Barrier Reef dive, however, I was over my quarter-life crisis, was glad that I had gotten rest instead and we headed gleefully out into the drizzle for the most fun experience in Australia thus far. 

I tell you most truly: the Great Barrier Reef is an amazing natural wonder. It’s approximately the size of Japan and is the largest living organism on earth. It can also supposedly be seen from space (although they say that about the Great Wall too, and it’s a load of baloney). 

The feeling of life that is evident in the reef is awe-inspiring indeed and it takes only a moment to ponder the potential loss of this natural wonder to invoke a great sadness and anger at human behavior.

After our most bodacious day of diving, we headed back to the hostel to breathe the stale air a few nights longer and thank our lucky stars that Cairns was not flooded, until (at last!) we stumbled on to our 5 a.m. flight to Sydney.

Our next few days in Sydney included civilized coffee and scones overlooking the harbor and opera house, ferry rides to Manly beach to watch the surfers (real cute, but real hard to talk to), strolls through the royal botanical gardens, Sri Lankan cuisine in the artsy part of town, movies in the city theater and an amazing stay and great dinner conversation in the oldest area of Sydney with our friendly and laidback Servas hosts: Peter and his partner Eriko.

Our first night with them, over an organic chicken dish and a few glasses of dry Australian reds we stayed up late discussing the nature of Nationalism (comparing Australia, New Zealand, Japan, the United States and Bolivia), treatment of indigenous people in each of the countries and also our travels: past, present and future.

The topic of Nationalism was of great interest to me. As I imagined they would be, many New Zealanders and Australians have been pretty critical of the United States (both people and government), George Bush and American Nationalism. Much like the American people, they are both hopeful and skeptical that yes, Obama indeed “can.”

Some of my interactions with folks in New Zealand and Australia have surprised me a little.

When I tried to make conversation with an Australian fellow I met by asking if he had ever visited the states (as I was visiting OZ), he said he had no need to visit the states as he had all he needed right there in Australia (can't you imagine some hillbilly in the states saying this?). A young guy at a bar in New Zealand asked where I was from and said he didn’t want to guess the states in order not to offend me. And, an older woman whom I was dining with one night went on for about 15 minutes about how New Zealanders are not nationalistic and would never sing the national anthem the way the (provincial) Americans do (by the way, when we mentioned this in Australia, they laughed and laughed because in their minds New Zealanders always go on and on about New Zealand when they’re in OZ).

The best folks, however, have possessed the distinct intellectual ability to think about their country in relation to the U.S. from a holistic perspective. Interestingly, they are not always the people that have traveled the most, but are always the people who have been willing, for one reason or another, to re-evaluate their own cultural shortcomings and their own media portrayal of other countries. 

I am consistently reminding myself to learn from the way these people have made me feel, rather than the way the former people made me feel. In this way, I hope I will learn how to receive hospitality, as well as to offer it.

To be fair, the United States has many shortcomings. From starting an ignorant and purposeless war to directly affecting the world economy through over-consumption and under-regulation, many of our actions have negatively affected people in other countries. Nevertheless, our actions have had many positive effects as well, including creation of overseas jobs to foreign aid to entertainment and media. 

So this is what I have come to thus far – whether or not people I meet attack America because of justified truth, a tinge of jealousy, pride, nationalism or information (whether erroneous or true) from their media, it’s still rude, just as rude as some of the Americans I meet who go on and on extolling the value of our great nation and putting down others. Civil pride can quickly turn to overblown nationalism when empathy and self-reflection is not employed.

But enough of these ponderings. I am having an amazing time and time has, indeed, seemed to crawl by, as every day I learn something new about Australia, New Zealand and myself. This was indubitably the self-shock therapy I needed.

We’re back in New Zealand now and just heading in to Christchurch in the South Island (yes, where Lord of the Rings was filmed!) and the next two weeks will doubtless be filled with breathtaking vistas, wild animals, hiking, camping and more interesting characters.

Bring it on!

Northland Bound: Glow worms, Protests and Long Beaches

Northland, NZ

We drive north

Past kauri forests; trees 30 men thick around

Past white sand beaches

And black stone beaches

We throw our pale bodies into the surf

And float in the salty tide

We drive north past the cow fields and the sheep fields and surfer vans

And rolling hills and Maori protesters

We drive north against the strong north winds blowing

And I search and I search for peace in my restless soul

My friend Hannah came into the country on a Tuesday and we left Auckland on a Wednesday. We were ready for moving on out after a somewhat stressful arrival, and found ourselves ringing the bell at a shabby but clean hostel in a posh part of Auckland.

Upon arrival at the hostel, Hannah asked the older Scottish man at the desk for some scissors with which to cut her pants (with the aim of making of making shorts). The look he gave us was priceless, as “pants” for Scottish folk means underwear and he was a bit ambivalent about the prospect of this American girl cutting off her underwear right there at the front desk (I mean he’d heard stories, but this was something he’d never seen!). We figured out the snafu quickly however and all went on our merry way with a good laugh, although I had the feeling he was waiting for something stellar to happen the rest of our stay (you just never know when Yankees are involved).

Wednesday morning we were out of Auckland and headed for the Northland above the city. We took a swing out to Goat Island, which boasts some of the best snorkeling in New Zealand. Being the forethinkers we are, however, we forgot to pick up snorkels and instead floated, facing skyward, among the happy throngs of tourists on their underwater adventures.

That evening we made it into Whangarei, known as the “Gateway to the North” and stayed with a local couple through the Servas exchange program, Patsy and Dave, who run an export business out of Whangarei. Amid their lovely rose gardens we had a tasty (albeit rainy) barbeque and let the topic wander into politics amid juicy steak bits.

 

It was interesting to note that politics are indeed the same wherever one goes: political. Until December, Helen Clark, of the labor (more liberal) party, was prime minister in New Zealand for 9 years. In December, however, John Keys, of the national (more conservative) party was elected. As always with politics, tensions run along party lines, and some describe the labor party to be a “socialist, communist, anti-business, high-bureaucracy” group and the other side undoubtedly would describe the national party as “pro-business, anti-welfare” to a fault. And this on the same day that Obama capped executive salaries. Ah, the parallels…

 But I digress.

The next morning we basked again in the warmth of Patsy and Dave’s awesome hospitality and were once again on the road northward.

After half an hour on the road, we made it to Waititi caves, in which one can take a tour and enjoy a virtual constellation of glow worms on the cave ceilings. After paying the requisite $15 fee, a friendly local guide tramped us Americans, a few Swiss girls, Australian women and German kids into the glow worm cave. After introducing us to the eels that lived in the pools on the bottom of the cave (Priscilla, Elvis and Lisa Marie) the older Maori gentleman guiding us through proceeded to point out the shapes in the rock formations (the witches, the three elephants – two coming, one going – the alligators, etc.). Thirty minutes and 200 glow worms later we were done with the caves and hiking over the top of the mountain and our guide was walking back into the cave to smoke another bowl before the next tour.

Next we hit Paihia and the Bay of Islands, a beautiful overlook and the site of the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi (the document between the whites, i.e. Queen of England, and the Maori people less than 200 years ago). Each year Maori people protest on the national Waitangi holiday. Last year the prime minister (who had come up to celebrate) was spit on and this year John Keys was accosted and pushed by a Maori fellow.

After passing the first inklings of the protests in Paihia, we continued on to our next host’s site – Kaeo – well… 15 kilometers past Kaeo, really. And in not too long we found ourselves lost on the unpaved back roads of Northland (hopefully the rental car gods at “Jucy” rental cars are not into reading blogs). We were out about 15 kilometers on the road before we decided that we were lost. Somehow I had transcribed the directions as including a traffic light (something everyone had a good laugh about later when I told them – traffic lights… in Kaeo… imagine).

But, finally, we found the home and were welcomed by the Northland Hostess with the Mostess, Margaret Smith of Tipatipa road. Upon arrival, we met Margaret and soon after the Japanese fellow who has been staying with her the past 3 months. A few grunts after dinner, however, he was off to his room to watch more Disney movies and we were left to hang out with our host, the kitten and Boots the three-legged dog.

Now Boots holds a special place in my heart, as do all humans and animals that have been through some extreme shit. A few years ago, Boots was out wandering when his leg got caught in a steel jawed hunting trap. He was gone for 9 days with everyone worrying on him before he chewed off his own leg and wandered back to the house with three good legs. Tell me how many people could do that? I only hope I could.

Having us fed and full on stories, Margaret took us down the road to meet her daughter and neighbors who were just finishing hay bailing for the day. We all sat around and chatted for a while over a wine and some of the best hospitality I’ve had since I left Kentucky.

Finally, our stifled yawns gave us away and we headed home for a few more stories and settling in to bed. Margaret told us some amazing stories, including that of her late husband’s sister, now 80 years old, who was widowed at 28 with 7 children and decided to become the first commercial fisherwoman in New Zealand. She packed her seven kids on the boat and took off to make a living for them from the sea. Holy wow.

That night I slept a deep sleep of strange dreams, which had become stranger and stranger as I went north.

We woke early and hung out with Margaret, Tastuhiro, the kitten and Boots before taking off for the west coast and Ahipara at the end of 90 mile beach.

The next day found us weaving the rental car through thick Kauri forests with trunks 30 men thick and rural west coast roads surrounded by green pastures. We stopped to see the grandfather of all trees – Tane Mahuta – thought to have sprouted around the time of Christ 2000 years ago.

Upon arrival in Auckland, we met up with an old friend from Ireland for dinner and made our way to the tallest point in Auckland, the old volcano crater, from which point we could view both the ocean and the sea (Auckland is settled on a long thin strip of land which connected the Northland and the rest of the North Island and is therefore bordered on both sides by water).

This morning we’re off and on our way to Sydney to meet up with a biking friend from Japan and begin our Ozzie adventure.

Up with which we shall not put!

Ok, something fun to share.... good friend James (aka jimbobb) was kind enough to help by pointing out some interesting errors in my last post, only proving my point about my own inability to use the English language correctly.

"Jennie, dear, love the blog... you should buy eats, shoots and leaves as a small reference book; it would help you avoid this sort of thing "A few of the things that have struck me thus far about New Zealand include: being the first country in the world to grant women’s suffrage, legalized (and regulated) prostitution and hermaphrodites in public office "...

(there is legalised prostitution in public office???????? semi-colons, dear, semi-colons!) looking forward to seeing you in march! x jimbobb"

Well, well, well...

FIRST of all: my mistake, it's actually a transexual in public office, not a hermaphrodite (AND she has recently moved on from that post). SECOND: and just to clear this up, THERE ARE NO PROSTITUTES IN PUBLIC OFFICE IN NZ... at least not to my knowledge. FINALLY: Sadly enough, dear jimbobb, I HAVE been reading "Eats, Shoots and Leaves" as bedtime reading for the past month, but apparently I fell asleep during the section on appropriate comma usage. How ironical.

Dear jimbobb: I suppose we are now equal for the night I spent in Thailand waiting up for you disasterizing about your stolen kidneys and corneas whilst you were asleep on the beach after the football match.

See you in March, Cambodia is it then? x J

Auckland, New Zealand: Peaches and Silverbeet

1/11/09

Tonight a full moon

Hung ripe over Cockle Bay

Orange as peach flesh

1/18/09

Silver beets outside

Bend down in the summer rain

As if bowed in prayer

I woke this Sunday morning to the sound of rain on the vegetable leaves in the garden outside my open window. It’s been two weeks now since I arrived in New Zealand and summer here is treating me well. It was an incredibly soft landing, thanks to my friend Rachel’s awesome family and their hospitality. I’m staying in their extra room and it’s nice to have people around when I finally get home from the city around 7 p.m.

Yes, dear friends, the Cambridge course for teaching English is totally kicking my butt. I leave for the bus at 7 a.m. and get home at 7 p.m. to shove some food in my face and create lesson plans for the next day, but I am learning quite a bit. For example, how much I managed NOT to learn in 20 years of schooling regarding tenses, parts of speech and the basic phonology and rules of the English language. All of which, I’m convinced, my beginner level students know more about than I… me… I. Crap. See.

And so my students. It’s great to have students again. And they are a hoot. All of them come to our school because we teacher/plebes give our lessons for free, which seems like a fabulous bargain, until you realize we only know about 50% of what we’re talking about. But I digress.

At last count in our class we had 2 Koreans, 2 Japanese, 2 Chinese, 1 Italian and… wait for it… a lady from Kazakhstan! Oh my holy wow. And she’s totally my favorite. The Chinese ladies are awesome as well, although one of them walked out last week when one of the teacher/plebes asked her to put her dictionary away. The Korean guys are awesome as well, a goofy countenance and willingness to make a mistake go a long way in the language classroom. My favorite is Jin. He told me he likes my classes a lot and I was pretty flattered, but attempted not to fan any unneeded flames with over-exaggerated relief (“They like me! They really like me!).  And the Italian guy is reliably hilarious as well, although I’m pretty sure he’s usually stoned.

All in all, I am thoroughly enjoying myself and have even found some time for rest. Today, however, I spent 8 hours making lesson plans for this week and I think I may have had a wild half-cocked grin and disheveled hair when the family finally came back from their afternoon walk. That crazy American… she’s always sitting in the corner, stroking her books and muttering to herself (yes, my precious….).

As for general impressions of New Zealand, well, if I thought I’d be floating up on the beach with my piano and waiting for Harvey Keitel and his tattooed friends to come and trudge me into the forest, that wasn’t what happened. Good news is, I still have all my fingers.

All kidding aside, New Zealand has been an unusually soft landing, with very little culture shock to speak of. A few of the things that have struck me thus far about New Zealand include: being the first country in the world to grant women’s suffrage, legalized (and regulated) prostitution and hermaphrodites in public office – pointed out by the father of my family here as something that will doubtless be a long time coming in the overly provincial United States (Sorry Mr. MILK, you don’t hold a candle).

I have been blown away as well with the sheer numbers of Asian folks living in the city. All the kimchi (Korean pickles), onigiri (Japanese rice balls) and sembei (Japanese crackers) are mine for the taking and readily available at every corner store. Super yum. I headed out for a Japanese food girls night out on Friday, complete with the threat of Japanese/Korean style karaoke at the end of the evening (the others being saved only by the fact that my latest bus was 11:30).

I even wandered into one of the alleys of shops in Auckland and encountered – Engrish! I’m so happy you happy! Rock time! An apple doctor way! Unfortunately, I could only fit my head, neck and half a boob through the head hole and into the shirt before sheepishly taking it off and saying, “it’s a little small” to the shop girls giggling behind the counter. “That’s biggest size.” Yes. Of course it is.

Also striking (and inspiring) is the firm belief in a God given right to at least 4 weeks paid vacation a year and a widespread belief that all retail stores should close promptly at 6 p.m. (with a gleeful shut down of all most-needed services 15 minutes prior). This weekend, there was an editorial in the newspaper decrying the fact that there are typically only 3 to 4 weeks off in December, and most of those are taken up with Christmas and New Years. And, when I told my family here that at one of my previous jobs I had only 5 days vacation per year there were audible gasps and they asked “But, how can they do that?” Yes, I see a future for myself working in a foreign company with such civilized policies. Yes, I most certainly do.

In other exciting news, I bought myself a hot pink phone, the likes of which I have secretly lusted after for years now. I almost bought myself one back in ’07 but resisted, deeming it frivolous. So imagine my joy when I found myself buying a new phone in New Zealand and the guy helping me in the shop said, “well, we have the black one, then there’s this one, I guess, or whatever.” At which point he pulled out the shiniest most awesomest hot pink miracle I’d ever seen. And, 10 minutes later, I walked out of the shop, my hot-pink-pre-paid-rider-bb-gun-cellie slung low in my back pocket. Eat that Alfie.

Which pretty much concludes my experiences thus far. Course concludes in 2 weeks, at which time I’m free! And heading to Australia for a few weeks, then back to NZ for a 4-week backpacking extravaganza. And I’m ready! Rootin’ tootin’ ready.

 

January 1st, 2009. Plane to Auckland, NZ. So, it begins...

I’m not sure exactly when I decided that I wanted to travel around the world. At the age of 28, many educated North American women are on the career track or marriage track or baby track. And yet, I found myself earlier in 2008 feeling a little off track. Corporate, well paying job with opportunity for advancement, check. Relationship opportunities with potential, check. 1,200 square foot fully decorated apartment in fun, eclectic part of town, check. Who was I to complain? What was this deep ennui I felt? Where did I learn this pretentious French word to express my discomfort?

 

I had the time and means to volunteer, go out to eat with friends, take weekend trips, buy a gym membership, decorate my apartment and go shopping weekly at T.J.Maxx… so again, I asked myself, who was I to blather on about finding “deeper meaning” or “spiritual enlightenment”?

 

Less than a decision and more than a whim, today, on January 1^st, 2009 I find myself sitting in a bustling L.A. airport nestled between my carry-on and laptop case and waiting for my flight to Auckland, New Zealand. The entirety of all my belongings now amount to two checked bags, one carry-on and a purse. Less than 100 pounds of crap to drag with me around the world. Thank goodness for airport regulations.

 

Over the last 12 months I moved out of my apartment, selling my belongings and precious Target furniture purchases one by one on Craigslist. I down-sized step by step until I was literally living on the floor of a friend’s closet for the last four months, and living on half of my salary (the other half went straight into an online savings account with limited access for emergencies such as shoes, facials, fancy dinners and dirty martinis).

 

So finally in December I quit my perfectly acceptable Instructional Design job with benefits, threw my valuables into plastic bins and begged basement corner space off of willing relatives. And here I am. It’s just me again.

 

I find myself in the same place I was five years ago when I finished my teaching contract in Japan, before I left my small town and prior to the beginning of the bike trip I did before coming back to the states (see article below).

 

Over the next year or so, my plan is to travel all the way around the world. Starting in New Zealand, I’ll complete the CELTA course for Teaching English as a Second Language (http://www.languages.ac.nz/teacher_training/celta_course.htm) in January and then travel around New Zealand and possibly Australia, working on organic farms (http://www.wwoof.co.nz/) and staying with friends and home stay families through Servas International (http://joomla.servas.org/).

 

In March, I’ll head back to Japan for a few weeks for a conference with the Applied Improvisational Network (http://appliedimprov.ning.com/) – a group that promotes the use of improvisational theater in business. While there, I plan to help my friend James ring in the big 3-0 and also celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day (this should be interesting, folks). 

 

Sometime after that I may be in Cambodia helping a friend with her non-profit organization. I may also be somewhere in Thailand or Turkey, depending on the opportunities that arise.

 

The trip is fluid by design, and my goal is to be open to things as they happen. It’s a first for me, and verily I tell you, far far outside my comfort zone.

 

In the end, the reason for this trip at its core is self shock therapy. By shocking myself into becoming engaged in my own life, I hope to change the trajectory of my existence for the better. A choose-your-own-adventure on a grander scale.

 

Will I make it? Am I a scrapper? Do I deserve the things I’ve been handed in my life? Do any of us? How scared am I, really? How far am I willing to go, in spite of my fear?

 

And, most importantly, how will my life impact those around me?

 

These last few weeks have forced me to realize how much impact I truly have on those around me. Parents, friends and strangers have reacted strongly to my plans. And I thought I was in this alone…

 

I never realized how much power exists in deciding to follow a dream, no matter how irrelevant it seems to anyone else’s life but one’s own. Grown-ass women and men have had tears in their eyes as I explained that I am scared, but I’m still going to do this. Friends, both new and old, have broken down and admitted that there is this one thing they’ve always wanted to do, but didn’t think they could. Those same people have come to me later and told me that they were ready to try.

 

We must realize how powerful we are, and the impact our actions and words can have on others. We are powerful beyond our imagination.

 

Thank you, thank you, thank you. To all my friends and family who have supported me in my journey and the process of steadying myself for the journey to come. I hope we can take it together.