So I ran into a serious issue when I first arrived in Taupo. I didn't have accomodation, so I befriended a girl on the bus who was headed to a backpackers and I figured I would follow her to see if they had rooms available. Well, she was staying at the uber swanky "Urban backpackers Lodge", where many- a- 18 year old UK backpacker living on their daddy's dollar were getting "on the piss" and recounting their awesome stories of skydiving after a night of hardcore partying at the sweet Element club. Then I discovered that the girl I had befriended was a complete stage 5 clinger, and I could not even go to the bathroom by myself without her following me into the toilet. And sometimes, you just want to be alone. So after already booking 2 nigths accomodation, I told the front desk that I found a massive bug in my bed and wanted to move out immediately. so I got my money back and successfully evaded the stage 5 clinger. WIN!
So I move up the street to "rainbow Lodge"...where everyone has dreadlocks, a nose ring, and the faint smell of unshowered hippies and cannibis lingers around every corner. It is quiet and nice, and I wanted a nice peaceful night to myself to kind of reflect on the things I have done, the people I've met, the next portions of my trip, and who I'm missing back home. And then, Scuba Steve enters.
Scuba Steve: 34, a dive instructor on the Whitsundays in Australia, used to be a massively successful business man who quit his job to pursue diving, and is now trying to sail on 50 million dollar yachts in the Carribean. He has taken time to travel so he can decide his own direction, etc, etc. Well, he happened to be the dive instructor on the same boat that I went on when I was in the Whitsundays, worked with my skipper and divemaster, so we got to chatting about that, the ocean, marine science, underwater stories, etc. But because of my recent encounter with Scuba Sam and my various other experiences with instructors of this sort, I let him in on my ideas about tour guides and and female backpacker relationship, and how I am thinking that this could possibly be an idea for a thesis if I should pursue higher studies in this area.
Well.
Scuba Steve found this AMAZING that I had figured out the benefits of being a guide, and immediately began telling me stories, tactics the boys use, certain lingo (BOB= best on board). One of the guys actually would call a cab while piss drunk the night before when he brings a girl back to his place to come at 7:30 in the morning, so when he wakes up, he fake reads a text about him needing to be somewhere and tells the girl, "ahh shit, I'm late, but there's a cab coming in 5 minutes so no worries!" And bounces. Insanity. So here I am now having an intelligent, academic, and deeply engaging conversation with a tour guide about all of these things, and I am not going to lie, it was absolutely fascinating. After about 5 hours of conversation, He's convinced I already have content enough for a book. Maybe I do. But then I also must note that scuba steve felt it was appropriate to use his guide-tactics on me, which I thought ironic considering we had just talked for 5 hours about how degrading I felt this all was. Sweet as.
Anyway, about Taupo- It's absolutely gorgeous out today, and the views across the lake are of Mt. Rhuapehu and Mt. Doom from Lord of the Rings. The water is crystal clear, perfect for swimming, and Taupo the town its self is a nice little area. I like it here. Tomorrow, I am going to be hiking the Tongario Crossing, which is the sole reason I really wanted to come to the North Island in the first place, so I am SUPER PUMPED. 8 hours of trekking, but this time not with Kiwi geriatrics and not in the bush.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Detergent Induced Geyser
Kia Ora from Rotorua...the land of Japanese tour buses, Souvenier shops, and the beautiful sulfuric acid smell of rotten eggs in the air. So I was told that Rotorua was a tourist trap, and I was like ," Ohhh but I want to see the geothermal action, smell that wonderful sulfuric air, feel the alive-ness of the earth under my feet...". Wrong. I paid 63$ yesterday to watch a geyser be set off by a dude pouring laundry detergent down it. It was actually hilarious...there was a literal stadium seating of 500 people, all cameras up, waiting anxiously for an upgraded size of a 3rd grade science project volcano to erupt. A felt a little ripped off, to be honest. Ahh but you live and you learn, and now I know that if I find a random hot spring in the middle of the bush, I can charge people 60$ to watch me pour soap down its fucking hole to watch it explode. Sweet as!
But all was not like this in Rotorua- The backpackers I stayed in was awesome, it was called Crash Palace and there was a hot tub, patio area, pets, and really, really cool fucking people. I roomed with a chick named Kristi from Estonia, who was 20 but had more ridiculous stories of traveling than anyone I've ever met combined. And then the German, who we dubbed "germany", the chef who cooked us a gourmet meal of mushroom and pumkin seed rissotto, fresh fish with white wine garlic butter sauce, and a salad with fresh roasted vegetables. We also were kicked out of Lava Bar for Kristi's criminal antics of not taking off her hat. And we befriened another German with a car who gave us a lift to the Beautiful blue lakes. So all the free stuff we did was clearly better than my expensive day in the "geothermal wonderland".
I think that 3 days is just enough time to be in a place to start to feel comfortable, really get to know people, but then feel a little sad about leaving. It was the same in Auckland- 3 days breaks down a few of those "getting to know you barriers", and you really start to see people as genuine friends. I'm looking forward to spending a lot of time in Raglan, hopefully getting to know a lot of the long term stayers and making some real connections. And hopefully getting some surf in as well.
As for now, I'm headed to Taupo. More to come soon!
But all was not like this in Rotorua- The backpackers I stayed in was awesome, it was called Crash Palace and there was a hot tub, patio area, pets, and really, really cool fucking people. I roomed with a chick named Kristi from Estonia, who was 20 but had more ridiculous stories of traveling than anyone I've ever met combined. And then the German, who we dubbed "germany", the chef who cooked us a gourmet meal of mushroom and pumkin seed rissotto, fresh fish with white wine garlic butter sauce, and a salad with fresh roasted vegetables. We also were kicked out of Lava Bar for Kristi's criminal antics of not taking off her hat. And we befriened another German with a car who gave us a lift to the Beautiful blue lakes. So all the free stuff we did was clearly better than my expensive day in the "geothermal wonderland".
I think that 3 days is just enough time to be in a place to start to feel comfortable, really get to know people, but then feel a little sad about leaving. It was the same in Auckland- 3 days breaks down a few of those "getting to know you barriers", and you really start to see people as genuine friends. I'm looking forward to spending a lot of time in Raglan, hopefully getting to know a lot of the long term stayers and making some real connections. And hopefully getting some surf in as well.
As for now, I'm headed to Taupo. More to come soon!
Thursday, November 25, 2010
A Very Kiwi Thanksgiving
So in my time, today was Thanksgiving in New Zealand. Obviously, the Kiwis don't celebrate this very American Holiday, and I nearly forgot it was today. I was supposed to be on a bus to Rotorua today, but when I realized it was Thanksgiving, I changed my ticket so I could spend my Turkey Day with the family I have now in New Zealand. And it was also Andrew's Birthday, so it was reason to celebrate in good ole Kiwi fashion.
So what did my Thanksgiving consist of? Well certainly not turkey and football. We launched the boat in the morning and FINALLY me, Sophie, Bianca, Andrew and Co. were able to go for a sail and a fish. In the newspaper that morning, there were pictures of dudes who had just went out at the same spot the day before and caught a MASSIVE snapper, and I was just fucking determined to catch the Thanksgiving fish of the day. Unfortunately, with the wind blowing 20+ knots and it being mid-afternoon, conditions were not ideal for bagging a humongo fish. Ironically, however, it was me, the American, and Sophie, the Frenchy, who happened to catch the only keep-able fish of the day that the Kiwis would be eating for dinner. There were 7 of us and we only caught 4 fish...so not much of a fish feast, but we ended up having a pretty epic dinne,and I didn't actually vomit after this Thanksgiving feast (which is typical of me the past 2 years). And i FINALLY got out on the boat after being promised all week, which was fucking awesome. Can't say I've ever been deep sea fishing for Thanksgiving before. Also can't say I've ever sliced the head off of a live fish for bait, but I suppose that all comes with the experience. Still have fish guts underneath my nails. Yum.
So because Andrew and Bianca are the best ever, they invited their whole family over for a feast to celebrate Andrew's Birthday, and also to celebrate Thanksgiving. I'm not going to lie, it was EXACTLY how thanksgiving is at my house...my mother stressing out about getting everything ready, kids running around like crazy, bottles of wine being opened and beer being consumed...a really warm enviornment full of friends and family. Mom, you will be happy to know that I helped as much as I could with this feast, but instead of making mashed potatoes, stuffing, carrots, and creamed spinach, and apple pie, I helped prepare cabbage slaw, raw fish salad, Avacado, and a freaking amazing Feijoa fruit crumble. A little unorthodox Thanksgiving of course, but the feelings were still the same.
Now this is about to get sappy. As we all sat down to dinner, I could not help but feel an incredible warmth towards this family. Here they were, welcoming some foreigner into their home, with no judgements, and no preconceived notions. They treated me like their own daughter (especially when Andrew found out about when the scuba guide asked me out), and I felt increidbly lucky to have been a part of this wonderful group of people. And then I lost it, because after we made a toast to Andre's birthday, Bianca aksed me to share my Thanksgiving tradition, which was go around the table and say what I am thankful for.
Well.
Of course I am thankful for my health. And my youth. And having this INCREDIBLE opportunity to be here in New Zealand, to travel the world, to have this amazing experience and meet so many fantastic people. And to eat amazing food and share cultures and knowledge and everything...I have only been here for about 3 weeks and it has already been "life changing". But what am I the most thankful for? My family, who have had the most amazing support for me through out my entire life. My Dad who has instilled in me the desire to follow my dreams, my Brother, who altought gives me shit all the time about my crazy life, still would defend me with his life. And my mom, who is the most AMAZING mother in the entire world, who has put up with me coming and going and giving her stress about where I am and what I am doing. Who would fly across the world to New Zealand, despite her motion sickness and slight fear of flying, to comfort me if I needed her. I love you guys. And for my friends, Caitlin, I know you're reading this, hopefully after a few bottles of wine, thanks for being my sister. And all the others, you know who you are, who support me and love me and I know will be there for me always and forever. I have so much to be Thankful for in this wonderful life, I wish it was something we all thought about every day. I've also had a few glasses of Feijoa wine so I'm feeling extra sappy at the moment. But tomorrow is America's Thanksgiving, so please eat some sweet potato cassarole for me. And be thankful that you're with your family, because I miss mine :)
So what did my Thanksgiving consist of? Well certainly not turkey and football. We launched the boat in the morning and FINALLY me, Sophie, Bianca, Andrew and Co. were able to go for a sail and a fish. In the newspaper that morning, there were pictures of dudes who had just went out at the same spot the day before and caught a MASSIVE snapper, and I was just fucking determined to catch the Thanksgiving fish of the day. Unfortunately, with the wind blowing 20+ knots and it being mid-afternoon, conditions were not ideal for bagging a humongo fish. Ironically, however, it was me, the American, and Sophie, the Frenchy, who happened to catch the only keep-able fish of the day that the Kiwis would be eating for dinner. There were 7 of us and we only caught 4 fish...so not much of a fish feast, but we ended up having a pretty epic dinne,and I didn't actually vomit after this Thanksgiving feast (which is typical of me the past 2 years). And i FINALLY got out on the boat after being promised all week, which was fucking awesome. Can't say I've ever been deep sea fishing for Thanksgiving before. Also can't say I've ever sliced the head off of a live fish for bait, but I suppose that all comes with the experience. Still have fish guts underneath my nails. Yum.
So because Andrew and Bianca are the best ever, they invited their whole family over for a feast to celebrate Andrew's Birthday, and also to celebrate Thanksgiving. I'm not going to lie, it was EXACTLY how thanksgiving is at my house...my mother stressing out about getting everything ready, kids running around like crazy, bottles of wine being opened and beer being consumed...a really warm enviornment full of friends and family. Mom, you will be happy to know that I helped as much as I could with this feast, but instead of making mashed potatoes, stuffing, carrots, and creamed spinach, and apple pie, I helped prepare cabbage slaw, raw fish salad, Avacado, and a freaking amazing Feijoa fruit crumble. A little unorthodox Thanksgiving of course, but the feelings were still the same.
Now this is about to get sappy. As we all sat down to dinner, I could not help but feel an incredible warmth towards this family. Here they were, welcoming some foreigner into their home, with no judgements, and no preconceived notions. They treated me like their own daughter (especially when Andrew found out about when the scuba guide asked me out), and I felt increidbly lucky to have been a part of this wonderful group of people. And then I lost it, because after we made a toast to Andre's birthday, Bianca aksed me to share my Thanksgiving tradition, which was go around the table and say what I am thankful for.
Well.
Of course I am thankful for my health. And my youth. And having this INCREDIBLE opportunity to be here in New Zealand, to travel the world, to have this amazing experience and meet so many fantastic people. And to eat amazing food and share cultures and knowledge and everything...I have only been here for about 3 weeks and it has already been "life changing". But what am I the most thankful for? My family, who have had the most amazing support for me through out my entire life. My Dad who has instilled in me the desire to follow my dreams, my Brother, who altought gives me shit all the time about my crazy life, still would defend me with his life. And my mom, who is the most AMAZING mother in the entire world, who has put up with me coming and going and giving her stress about where I am and what I am doing. Who would fly across the world to New Zealand, despite her motion sickness and slight fear of flying, to comfort me if I needed her. I love you guys. And for my friends, Caitlin, I know you're reading this, hopefully after a few bottles of wine, thanks for being my sister. And all the others, you know who you are, who support me and love me and I know will be there for me always and forever. I have so much to be Thankful for in this wonderful life, I wish it was something we all thought about every day. I've also had a few glasses of Feijoa wine so I'm feeling extra sappy at the moment. But tomorrow is America's Thanksgiving, so please eat some sweet potato cassarole for me. And be thankful that you're with your family, because I miss mine :)
Sunday, November 21, 2010
We saw ORCAS
Yes, we SAW ORCAS! Fucking free Willy style, breaching ORCA whales everyone, in the wild, on our way back from snorkeling at Poor Knight's Island. Absolutely amazing.
But I have to admit that I think I have been a little bit spoiled when it comes to underwater snorkeling/diving experiences. When you're living on an island on the Great Barrier Reef with baby sea turtles hatching at your feet every day and manta rays 3 meters across are swimming around you in the water, other snorkeling experiences tend to be, well, a little slack. Not to mention the water this weekend was a balmy 16 degrees C, just cold enough to give you the gasp reflex every time you put your face in the water, and frigid enough to make your fingers and toes go numb if you were in for more than 5 minutes. Call me jaded, but diving in 22 C water with tropical fish and corals abound was a bit more pleasant. However, the sub-tropical enviornment was defintely something I never saw before. The water was clear, there were HUGE fish everywhere, and kelp, which I have never seen either. And thanks to the crew on our boat, we were able to use the stand up paddle boards to explore the caves of the Poor Knights, which was very, very cool. And then we saw Orca on our way back, one of the highlights of the day. And then I got asked out to dinner by my dive instructor; another highlight of the day. And I also applied for a job at Dive Tutukaka because they were looking for seasonal staff, the last highlight of the day. Win, win, win!
I always find it really amusing when these dudes who run touristic businesses like these use it as an opportunity to pick up chicks. It's an ideal situation for them; they are "the local" bloke who is super cool and smart, he must be an entertainer or at least be somewhat personable, and tend to be reasonably good looking (please tell me the last time you have seen an unattractive Scuba instructor/surf instructor/river guide). They run these tours which go every day, turning over thousands of people every summer, ususally young travelers on Holiday, and can easily have their pick of whatever bikini-clad backpacker they so chose. And the girls they meet are obviously on holiday as well, with the "spring break mentality", so the boys most likely can quite easily get what they want from the backpackers they have woo-ed with no risk of any long term attachment because, hey, their stay is only temporary. I had my fair share witnessing this on my adventures down under, and I think I have calculated it out nearly to a science.
What is funny though, about this particular incident, is that 2 weeks ago, Andrew and Bianca had another American WWOOFer who had gone diving somewhere up the coast and was also asked out by her dive instructor. We all laughed and joked before Sophie and I went about how I better watch out for those kiwi dive instructors, they're on the prowl. Well guess what? It happened. And guess what else? It was the same dive boat, same instructor, same line. And unknown to him, he asked out two American WWOOFers who just so happened to be WWOOfing at the same family's house. Amazing. Part of me wants to go out and just fucking laugh my ass off as I call him out on his error. Part of my wants to congratulate him on randomly chosing two girls from the same household. Part of me wants to congratulate Andrew and Bianca for only taking wwoofers who seem to attract kiwi dive masters. People keep telling me that New Zealand is a small country, and yep. It definitely is.
But I have to admit that I think I have been a little bit spoiled when it comes to underwater snorkeling/diving experiences. When you're living on an island on the Great Barrier Reef with baby sea turtles hatching at your feet every day and manta rays 3 meters across are swimming around you in the water, other snorkeling experiences tend to be, well, a little slack. Not to mention the water this weekend was a balmy 16 degrees C, just cold enough to give you the gasp reflex every time you put your face in the water, and frigid enough to make your fingers and toes go numb if you were in for more than 5 minutes. Call me jaded, but diving in 22 C water with tropical fish and corals abound was a bit more pleasant. However, the sub-tropical enviornment was defintely something I never saw before. The water was clear, there were HUGE fish everywhere, and kelp, which I have never seen either. And thanks to the crew on our boat, we were able to use the stand up paddle boards to explore the caves of the Poor Knights, which was very, very cool. And then we saw Orca on our way back, one of the highlights of the day. And then I got asked out to dinner by my dive instructor; another highlight of the day. And I also applied for a job at Dive Tutukaka because they were looking for seasonal staff, the last highlight of the day. Win, win, win!
I always find it really amusing when these dudes who run touristic businesses like these use it as an opportunity to pick up chicks. It's an ideal situation for them; they are "the local" bloke who is super cool and smart, he must be an entertainer or at least be somewhat personable, and tend to be reasonably good looking (please tell me the last time you have seen an unattractive Scuba instructor/surf instructor/river guide). They run these tours which go every day, turning over thousands of people every summer, ususally young travelers on Holiday, and can easily have their pick of whatever bikini-clad backpacker they so chose. And the girls they meet are obviously on holiday as well, with the "spring break mentality", so the boys most likely can quite easily get what they want from the backpackers they have woo-ed with no risk of any long term attachment because, hey, their stay is only temporary. I had my fair share witnessing this on my adventures down under, and I think I have calculated it out nearly to a science.
What is funny though, about this particular incident, is that 2 weeks ago, Andrew and Bianca had another American WWOOFer who had gone diving somewhere up the coast and was also asked out by her dive instructor. We all laughed and joked before Sophie and I went about how I better watch out for those kiwi dive instructors, they're on the prowl. Well guess what? It happened. And guess what else? It was the same dive boat, same instructor, same line. And unknown to him, he asked out two American WWOOFers who just so happened to be WWOOfing at the same family's house. Amazing. Part of me wants to go out and just fucking laugh my ass off as I call him out on his error. Part of my wants to congratulate him on randomly chosing two girls from the same household. Part of me wants to congratulate Andrew and Bianca for only taking wwoofers who seem to attract kiwi dive masters. People keep telling me that New Zealand is a small country, and yep. It definitely is.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Part of the Family
I read a book this summer down in Corolla called "10 Simple Rules of Surfing" or something like that...some life-lesson guide that related being a moral, good person to surfing. And one of the rules I remember was "pass on the stoke", and I am happy to say, that I attempted to "pass on the stoke" to my City slicking, Paris-dwelling friend Sophie. We went down to the beach at Mangawai heads yesterday with Andrew's Longboad (7' 3"....longboard by NZ standards), and on the shittiest day possible for learning how to surf, Sophie and I had surf lesson number 1. Now obviously for those of you who know me, I am a pretty shitty surfer to begin with, haven't been doing it for that long, would definitely not qualify myself as any sort of knowledgable instructor, but, I was able to successfully shirade/mime my simple lesson of "paddle paddle paddle POP up, stay low!" to Sophie, or enough so that she was able to semi-stand up on a wave! Pretty cool I'd say, even though the water was about 60 degrees, sideshore wind blowing about 20 with 1 foot of chop. Not the most ideal conditions, but we grinned and beared it because, hell, we're in New Zealand. And it was pretty cool to be able to bestow some ocean knowledge to my city-living friend.
I have served my WWOOFfing time at the Mackintosh's, and I have to say that I feel like I have become part of their family. I was awaken at 7 am this morning by Amber jumping on my bed asking, "do you want to go on a beach walk?!?!?!?!" So I went on a vigorous power walk with the parents up the cliffs, came back and made crepes with Sophie for breakfast, and later helped Bianca plant her Kumara garden, she showed me how to pollinate zucchini plants (did you know there are boy AND girl flowers? Who the hell knew), and restrung Andrew's antique Gibson guitar (Thanks, Donnie :) ). Every night after dinner, we drink freijoa wine until the bottle is empty, and indulge in conversations ranging from Evolutionary Biology, to scuba diving, to travel stories, to wwoofing experiences gone bad, to New Zealand history, to learning French...
After our road trip this weekend to Poor Knight's Island, (more to come on that), I was going to leave the Mackintosh's and head to my next destination in Rotorua. When they found out I was leaving Monday, shit got bad. Their boat, which is fully equipped to go snorkeling, fishing, diving, barbequing, living the dream, has just been officially fixed tonight, and they want to take me and Sophie out scallop and crayfish diving on Great Barrier Island. If I leave, I will miss out on what will truly be a fucking real New Zealand experience. Imagine: diving for rich, juicy, plump sea scallops, cooking them on the boat and binge eating until your stomach explodes on their crustacianny goodness. But ahhh....the beauty of no plans and no itinerary...I think I may just stay a few more days here.
I have served my WWOOFfing time at the Mackintosh's, and I have to say that I feel like I have become part of their family. I was awaken at 7 am this morning by Amber jumping on my bed asking, "do you want to go on a beach walk?!?!?!?!" So I went on a vigorous power walk with the parents up the cliffs, came back and made crepes with Sophie for breakfast, and later helped Bianca plant her Kumara garden, she showed me how to pollinate zucchini plants (did you know there are boy AND girl flowers? Who the hell knew), and restrung Andrew's antique Gibson guitar (Thanks, Donnie :) ). Every night after dinner, we drink freijoa wine until the bottle is empty, and indulge in conversations ranging from Evolutionary Biology, to scuba diving, to travel stories, to wwoofing experiences gone bad, to New Zealand history, to learning French...
After our road trip this weekend to Poor Knight's Island, (more to come on that), I was going to leave the Mackintosh's and head to my next destination in Rotorua. When they found out I was leaving Monday, shit got bad. Their boat, which is fully equipped to go snorkeling, fishing, diving, barbequing, living the dream, has just been officially fixed tonight, and they want to take me and Sophie out scallop and crayfish diving on Great Barrier Island. If I leave, I will miss out on what will truly be a fucking real New Zealand experience. Imagine: diving for rich, juicy, plump sea scallops, cooking them on the boat and binge eating until your stomach explodes on their crustacianny goodness. But ahhh....the beauty of no plans and no itinerary...I think I may just stay a few more days here.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Wwooooooooofing
Day 3 of Wwoofing. And what did I learn today? Well, how to stack firewood, how to mow grass, how to plant seedlings, how to control a brush fire, how to cut 6 lbs (yes.....6 lbs) of onions, how to rake lawn trimmings...the list goes on and on. I have begun to realize that being a wwoofer is a combination between being a gardener/housekeeper/child rearer/farm hand/entertainer/conversationalist. I think I have done more physical, manual labor here at the Mackintosh's than I ever have in my life. Literally stacking firewood for 2 hours, wheelbarrowing grass trimmings into the chicken coop, digging up the fucking thistle that overruns the gardens...shit I am going to be ripped by the time I leave here.
Now I am sure you're reading this saying, "well shit, that doesn't sound like very much fun", and to be honest, the work isn't. I mean, it's work. But to be honest, working outside for a goal (food to eat, a place to stay) is somewhat rewarding. I think a little physical labor every now and again could do everybody a little bit of good. And jeez, I have to admit I am learning "heaps" about gardening and sustainabilty and shit.
I have to admit that Bianca's gardening process is really fucking cool. They collect rainwater from their roof, so all water used in the house is just generated by rain. It is used very sparingly because New Zealand's Northland has had a few bad dry spells recently. So in their sink, they have a big pot that they rince their dishes in before using the dishwasher. That water (with all of the food particles/nutrients)is used to water the plants outside. They also have a compost, where anything organic (egg shells, veg skins, leftover food) gets thrown in. When that is full, it gets tossed into the chicken coup. The chickens eat the leftover food, shit it out, and...BLAMMO! Fertilizer for the garden. Every 2 weeks the coup is moved to another area, so that part of the garden can get fertilized and prepped for planting. Bianca grows all of her own seedlings too, most of which are native plants to New Zealand that they are trying to restore. Even grass trimmings are used as compost. Nothing is wasted, everything is recycled, and the food that comes out of her garden is fucking delicious. I have stolen her tomato relish recipe and will surely bring it back to the US for all to try. And the freioja WINE! Have consumed a few glasses tonight at our barbeque in combination with some good conversation, and man what a good night.
Now I am sure you're reading this saying, "well shit, that doesn't sound like very much fun", and to be honest, the work isn't. I mean, it's work. But to be honest, working outside for a goal (food to eat, a place to stay) is somewhat rewarding. I think a little physical labor every now and again could do everybody a little bit of good. And jeez, I have to admit I am learning "heaps" about gardening and sustainabilty and shit.
I have to admit that Bianca's gardening process is really fucking cool. They collect rainwater from their roof, so all water used in the house is just generated by rain. It is used very sparingly because New Zealand's Northland has had a few bad dry spells recently. So in their sink, they have a big pot that they rince their dishes in before using the dishwasher. That water (with all of the food particles/nutrients)is used to water the plants outside. They also have a compost, where anything organic (egg shells, veg skins, leftover food) gets thrown in. When that is full, it gets tossed into the chicken coup. The chickens eat the leftover food, shit it out, and...BLAMMO! Fertilizer for the garden. Every 2 weeks the coup is moved to another area, so that part of the garden can get fertilized and prepped for planting. Bianca grows all of her own seedlings too, most of which are native plants to New Zealand that they are trying to restore. Even grass trimmings are used as compost. Nothing is wasted, everything is recycled, and the food that comes out of her garden is fucking delicious. I have stolen her tomato relish recipe and will surely bring it back to the US for all to try. And the freioja WINE! Have consumed a few glasses tonight at our barbeque in combination with some good conversation, and man what a good night.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Wwoofing
So....Wwoofing. Or "Willing workers on organic farms" as it is called. And this is what I am doing currently, at a family's house/farm on the East Coast of the North Island, in a tiny area called mangauri.
So when I realized that my daily budget in New Zealand, thanks to the automatic withdrawing of my bank account from the US department of Education, will have to be around 40$ a day including accomodation, I realized...well..."shit." I would have a plane ticket and basically a place to stay with probably some instant noodles and peanut butter sandwich, but goodbye to any sort of activity/fun things/beer. So my solution? Wwoofing.
What is wwoofing? "WWOOF New Zealand is part of a world wide community that promotes awareness of ecological farming practices by providing volunteers with the opportunity to live and learn on organic properties. WWOOF is an enjoyable, educational and safe way to explore and get to know the people in the country."
Basically, I provide my excellent organic farming knowlege and skills (which are none), in exchange for a place to sleep and food on the table. The goal: to learn from kiwis about sustainable living, to see the area from the knowledge of a local, and oh yeah, to not spend any money. WIN!
So the wwoofing website is a bit like an online dating site; you post a profile and a picture, tell a little bit about yourself, and then you can search keywords in waht you're looking for in a host, whether it be "Northland" or "wine making" or "non-rapist", whatever. You send them a message telling them when you'll be in the area, and if they have room, they'll email you with some details about the work you'll be doing, their farm/family, etc. And thus: wwoofing.
So here I am after my 2nd full day of Wwoofing on the Mackintosh's property. Bianca and Andrew are super cool; Bianca has a huge garden, grows all her own shit, a greenhouse in her home, and every meal we have eaten has mostly come straight from the garden (even beer and wine!). Andrew has let me borrow his guitar/surfboard, and promises to hopefully take us fishing out on their boat one day soon. Kids are freaking little balls of energy, and have taken to me and Sophie pretty easily. They are used to having wwoofers and Au pairs so new people are like new toys for them. Which is cool, but the older girl is treating me a bit like her personal servant, which is not so cool.
It's only day 2 of Wwoofing but my ass, arms, and back are sore as hell from ripping out thistle from their garden. And (to the pleasure of my parents and my brother I am sure), I have officically been converted into a carnivore once again...I have eaten meat the past 4 dinners (lamb, mutton, some other mysterious animal), but it has been meat that has come right off of their farm, and I know how much goes into raising the meat on those kiwi farms (see "shifting cattle"). So I could say that I know it is meat that has been treated fairly and I have no problem eating it, or I could just admit that I'm honestly afraid to say no to a meal that's being put in front of me for fear of sounding like a snobbby American. Either way, seems like I'll be eating many more animals for the duration of my stay in New Zealand.
So when I realized that my daily budget in New Zealand, thanks to the automatic withdrawing of my bank account from the US department of Education, will have to be around 40$ a day including accomodation, I realized...well..."shit." I would have a plane ticket and basically a place to stay with probably some instant noodles and peanut butter sandwich, but goodbye to any sort of activity/fun things/beer. So my solution? Wwoofing.
What is wwoofing? "WWOOF New Zealand is part of a world wide community that promotes awareness of ecological farming practices by providing volunteers with the opportunity to live and learn on organic properties. WWOOF is an enjoyable, educational and safe way to explore and get to know the people in the country."
Basically, I provide my excellent organic farming knowlege and skills (which are none), in exchange for a place to sleep and food on the table. The goal: to learn from kiwis about sustainable living, to see the area from the knowledge of a local, and oh yeah, to not spend any money. WIN!
So the wwoofing website is a bit like an online dating site; you post a profile and a picture, tell a little bit about yourself, and then you can search keywords in waht you're looking for in a host, whether it be "Northland" or "wine making" or "non-rapist", whatever. You send them a message telling them when you'll be in the area, and if they have room, they'll email you with some details about the work you'll be doing, their farm/family, etc. And thus: wwoofing.
So here I am after my 2nd full day of Wwoofing on the Mackintosh's property. Bianca and Andrew are super cool; Bianca has a huge garden, grows all her own shit, a greenhouse in her home, and every meal we have eaten has mostly come straight from the garden (even beer and wine!). Andrew has let me borrow his guitar/surfboard, and promises to hopefully take us fishing out on their boat one day soon. Kids are freaking little balls of energy, and have taken to me and Sophie pretty easily. They are used to having wwoofers and Au pairs so new people are like new toys for them. Which is cool, but the older girl is treating me a bit like her personal servant, which is not so cool.
It's only day 2 of Wwoofing but my ass, arms, and back are sore as hell from ripping out thistle from their garden. And (to the pleasure of my parents and my brother I am sure), I have officically been converted into a carnivore once again...I have eaten meat the past 4 dinners (lamb, mutton, some other mysterious animal), but it has been meat that has come right off of their farm, and I know how much goes into raising the meat on those kiwi farms (see "shifting cattle"). So I could say that I know it is meat that has been treated fairly and I have no problem eating it, or I could just admit that I'm honestly afraid to say no to a meal that's being put in front of me for fear of sounding like a snobbby American. Either way, seems like I'll be eating many more animals for the duration of my stay in New Zealand.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Tramping
Sundays for Americans usually means sleeping in, football, big meals, hangover recovery. Sundays for Kiwis? Well, how about a 7 hour "tramp" through the "bush" (hike through the fucking rainforest). And that's what me and Sophie did- we woke up bright and early with a pounding headahce, and literally walked through the forest for 7 hours with ten Kiwis, most of which were over 55 years old. The one's who weren't that age were under the age of 9, and they trekked the entire way completely barefoot.
Tramping was...well...what you think it would be. Walking through the trees through mud and creeks and fields and shrubs, getting muddy, slipping on rocks, but I could not believe that these 50+ year old women were kicking my ass through this trek and not even stopping to look back. It was like Sunday afternoon tea; the conversation was the same, but the activity was a bit more strenuous. But I will admit, it was very, very beautful. New Zealand has sub tropical rain forest in the North of the North Island, so the forest was a mixture of huge fern trees, mosses, and tall beech trees. But I think what struck me most about the forest was how quiet it was. Every now and again you would hear a bird chirp, but other than that, complete and total silence. And now that I know a little more about the history of new Zealand's wildlife, I realize how incredibly sad that is.
Brief summary:
New Zealand is an isolated island, and no mammals are natve to the country. The things that made it there were birds, and many have evolved into slow moving, terrestrial birds that can't fly but don't need to because they don't have any natural predators. Until humans came and brought oppossums, dogs, and cats. Our animals killed all of the flightless birds and now the forests, that used to be filled with these birds, are quiet. It's really sad.
I was muddy as hell and pretty happy that the trek was over, and also starving, so we all went down to opo harbor to eat fish and chips on the water. Pretty nice Sunday afternoon, I'd say.
Tramping was...well...what you think it would be. Walking through the trees through mud and creeks and fields and shrubs, getting muddy, slipping on rocks, but I could not believe that these 50+ year old women were kicking my ass through this trek and not even stopping to look back. It was like Sunday afternoon tea; the conversation was the same, but the activity was a bit more strenuous. But I will admit, it was very, very beautful. New Zealand has sub tropical rain forest in the North of the North Island, so the forest was a mixture of huge fern trees, mosses, and tall beech trees. But I think what struck me most about the forest was how quiet it was. Every now and again you would hear a bird chirp, but other than that, complete and total silence. And now that I know a little more about the history of new Zealand's wildlife, I realize how incredibly sad that is.
Brief summary:
New Zealand is an isolated island, and no mammals are natve to the country. The things that made it there were birds, and many have evolved into slow moving, terrestrial birds that can't fly but don't need to because they don't have any natural predators. Until humans came and brought oppossums, dogs, and cats. Our animals killed all of the flightless birds and now the forests, that used to be filled with these birds, are quiet. It's really sad.
I was muddy as hell and pretty happy that the trek was over, and also starving, so we all went down to opo harbor to eat fish and chips on the water. Pretty nice Sunday afternoon, I'd say.
Shifting Cattle
Do you know what "shifting cattle" means? I sure as hell didn't, until I left Auckland and found myself riding a dirt bike on some 600 acres of farm land in rural western northland, chasing cows into enclosures. With Sophie the french Au Pair and Sandy the collie dog as my side-kicks. So how the hell did I get here?
Well, I left Auckland the next morning and took a bus to Kaiwaka, where my first WWOOFING host was supposed to pick me up and drive me to their house. I'll explain about wwoofing later, but basically I was putting my life into the hands of a man who I only exchanged a few emails with prior to my arrival. I was dropped literally on the side of the road alone with my backpack and my lonley planet guide book. Fuck.
Well, just as he promised, Andrew picked me up from the "bus stop". Within 5 minutes of me being in the car, he says to me, "So we have a road trip planned for you and Sophie (their French Au pair) this weekend up at my uncles farm, are you keen to go?" Being me, I obviously will not say no to an adventure, so we get to their house, I pack up a day pack, and me and Sophie are headed 2 hours North West to Omamari. Funny things about this trip:
1. Me and Sophie have never met. She is in New Zealand trying to improve her English, meaning when we converse, it is a lot like chirades.
2. Sophie also just arrived in New Zealand and is the driver on this trip because they want her to get used to driving on the left side of the road. Meaning once again, my life is in the hands of someone else. Someone who happens to have very little experience driving on New Zealand roads.
3. The roads in Northland are fucking wind-ey as hell
4. For all of you who know me, you know I am the worst, ABSOLUTE WORST navigator ever, and all I had was an atlas to guide us. We were clearly doomed just from this fact.
Amazingly, we arrived unscathed to the Kelley's farm. Their property sits on about 600 acres of rolling green hills and pastures, and you can see the pacific ocean from the top of their hill. Walking down their road, the only sound you can hear for miles is the occasional bellow of a cow. No joke- this is bumblefuck New Zealand.
So because we are on a real New Zealand farm, I obviously need to learn everything I possibly can about this completely foreign way of life. So Peter tells us to come along while he's "shifting the cattle" in the morning. And thus: I learned to shift cattle, which means moving a herd from one pasture to another every other day so they have fresh grass to eat and get nice and fat for hamburger meat. But Imagine me and Sophie...four wheeling through cow shit literally screaming "yee-haw!!" as we help move the cattle. I bet they don't do this on Kiwi Experience.
That day, me and Sophie took a drive to discover the lakes nearby, where a kiwi family let us use their jet ski. Forreal. people are so fucking nice here. And that night, me and Sophie took a bottle of wine to the top of the hill and watched the sunset. It was a pretty romantic date, and we got drunk and poor peter had to come up the hill looking for us thinking we were lost, and here he finds the Yank and the Frenchy popping a squat among the cattle. No joke...it was a great day.
Well, I left Auckland the next morning and took a bus to Kaiwaka, where my first WWOOFING host was supposed to pick me up and drive me to their house. I'll explain about wwoofing later, but basically I was putting my life into the hands of a man who I only exchanged a few emails with prior to my arrival. I was dropped literally on the side of the road alone with my backpack and my lonley planet guide book. Fuck.
Well, just as he promised, Andrew picked me up from the "bus stop". Within 5 minutes of me being in the car, he says to me, "So we have a road trip planned for you and Sophie (their French Au pair) this weekend up at my uncles farm, are you keen to go?" Being me, I obviously will not say no to an adventure, so we get to their house, I pack up a day pack, and me and Sophie are headed 2 hours North West to Omamari. Funny things about this trip:
1. Me and Sophie have never met. She is in New Zealand trying to improve her English, meaning when we converse, it is a lot like chirades.
2. Sophie also just arrived in New Zealand and is the driver on this trip because they want her to get used to driving on the left side of the road. Meaning once again, my life is in the hands of someone else. Someone who happens to have very little experience driving on New Zealand roads.
3. The roads in Northland are fucking wind-ey as hell
4. For all of you who know me, you know I am the worst, ABSOLUTE WORST navigator ever, and all I had was an atlas to guide us. We were clearly doomed just from this fact.
Amazingly, we arrived unscathed to the Kelley's farm. Their property sits on about 600 acres of rolling green hills and pastures, and you can see the pacific ocean from the top of their hill. Walking down their road, the only sound you can hear for miles is the occasional bellow of a cow. No joke- this is bumblefuck New Zealand.
So because we are on a real New Zealand farm, I obviously need to learn everything I possibly can about this completely foreign way of life. So Peter tells us to come along while he's "shifting the cattle" in the morning. And thus: I learned to shift cattle, which means moving a herd from one pasture to another every other day so they have fresh grass to eat and get nice and fat for hamburger meat. But Imagine me and Sophie...four wheeling through cow shit literally screaming "yee-haw!!" as we help move the cattle. I bet they don't do this on Kiwi Experience.
That day, me and Sophie took a drive to discover the lakes nearby, where a kiwi family let us use their jet ski. Forreal. people are so fucking nice here. And that night, me and Sophie took a bottle of wine to the top of the hill and watched the sunset. It was a pretty romantic date, and we got drunk and poor peter had to come up the hill looking for us thinking we were lost, and here he finds the Yank and the Frenchy popping a squat among the cattle. No joke...it was a great day.
Auckland and the "Kiwi Experience"
As I was in Auckland, something became very apparent to me. There are 2 very distinct and different types of backpackers. The first type came to New Zealand for the spectacular out door activities, the tramping, the surfing, kayaking, camping, wwoofing...you know, actually backpacking and living on a shoe string budget. The second type, who all happened to be young, European (mostly from the UK), and RICH, are in New Zealand to go hopping from pub to pub, getting sha-wasted and tyring to drop the pants of as many unsuspecting females as possble. Met a guy from New Castle who, when I asked him what Island he went on to snorkel a few days prior, he told me, "Umm I don't remember", but then proudly informed me that he had spent over 2000 pounds while he stayed in Auckland....which was only 5 days. Forreal, dude? Sweet New Zealand tip, man.
And I have one thing to blame for what has become of the backpacker circuit in New Zealand, and that is the infamous green "Kiwi Experience" Bus. The Kiwi Experience Bus is a 1000 dollar, hop on-hop off tour bus that "caters to independent travelers who are looking to go off the beaten track and see the real New Zealand". Except it's a shit fucking ton of money. And it only goes to the main tourist stops. And they book accomodation for you so the hostels that sell the kiwi experience bus pass to backpackers are then the only hostels the backpackers stay at. And there's 50 of you on a bus, so stops are a quick photo opp. And the only kiwis you meet are the kiwi flavoring in your mixed drink. And they peer pressure you into booking "activities" through them like sky diving, bungy, rafting...so youre spending 400 dollars a day on "once in a lifetime experences". Oh yeah, and since it's all one big mob of young, single, rich, and drunk backpackers, sexual debachery is encouraged and obviously ensues.
No thanks, I'd rather remember my trip and not come away with a few European STD's.
But, I will admit that doing acitvities during the day is the absolute best way to meet people. Only because it was free, I went on the Kiwi Experience Auckland day tour trip with my 2 room mates Ed and Jason. It was a pretty cool day over all, climbing the harbor bridge, overlookig Mount Eden, and watching some dude get annhiliated by 1000 paint balls after he bungy jumped. And on the bus we met a few other people who we went out with that night for a drink and free pizza. Again, never feeling alone in NZ...that night, I had a posse of friends who acted like we'd been pals for years. And I was actually sad to say goodbye to them that night; even though I was only in Auckland for 3 days, things become comfortable. There was Ed and Jason, my two hostel mates, Henrich, the German Hippie, Steph, the Canadian wwoofer, Dan from Ireland who was trying to hoop up with every female he met, and dan from england, the drummer whose story reminded me of someone from back home...
Anyway-the point of this entry was this: I was excited to get out of Auckland, but I did meet some really cool people who I was sad to say goodbye to. But that's the life of a backpacker I suppose, and New Zealand isn't that big.
And I have one thing to blame for what has become of the backpacker circuit in New Zealand, and that is the infamous green "Kiwi Experience" Bus. The Kiwi Experience Bus is a 1000 dollar, hop on-hop off tour bus that "caters to independent travelers who are looking to go off the beaten track and see the real New Zealand". Except it's a shit fucking ton of money. And it only goes to the main tourist stops. And they book accomodation for you so the hostels that sell the kiwi experience bus pass to backpackers are then the only hostels the backpackers stay at. And there's 50 of you on a bus, so stops are a quick photo opp. And the only kiwis you meet are the kiwi flavoring in your mixed drink. And they peer pressure you into booking "activities" through them like sky diving, bungy, rafting...so youre spending 400 dollars a day on "once in a lifetime experences". Oh yeah, and since it's all one big mob of young, single, rich, and drunk backpackers, sexual debachery is encouraged and obviously ensues.
No thanks, I'd rather remember my trip and not come away with a few European STD's.
But, I will admit that doing acitvities during the day is the absolute best way to meet people. Only because it was free, I went on the Kiwi Experience Auckland day tour trip with my 2 room mates Ed and Jason. It was a pretty cool day over all, climbing the harbor bridge, overlookig Mount Eden, and watching some dude get annhiliated by 1000 paint balls after he bungy jumped. And on the bus we met a few other people who we went out with that night for a drink and free pizza. Again, never feeling alone in NZ...that night, I had a posse of friends who acted like we'd been pals for years. And I was actually sad to say goodbye to them that night; even though I was only in Auckland for 3 days, things become comfortable. There was Ed and Jason, my two hostel mates, Henrich, the German Hippie, Steph, the Canadian wwoofer, Dan from Ireland who was trying to hoop up with every female he met, and dan from england, the drummer whose story reminded me of someone from back home...
Anyway-the point of this entry was this: I was excited to get out of Auckland, but I did meet some really cool people who I was sad to say goodbye to. But that's the life of a backpacker I suppose, and New Zealand isn't that big.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Auckland Hostel Fun
So a forewarning that this is going to be a quick entry because my free internet time is ticking down and to pay for an hour of internet is fucking 5 dollars at XBASE hostel.
SO HELLO FROM AUCKLAND! I have arrived in the City of Sails safe and sound, no plane crash, no muggings, backpack in tact...pretty successful journey I'd say! And it truly has not really hit me that I am here now, in New Zealand, alone.
There are some reasons why that is:
1. Auckland is a pretty drab city. Not much going on aside from backpacker hostels, vodaphone stores and lots of kebab shops. Its like a city in the US except people speak with accents and 1/2 the population walking around the streets is carrying a 60 litre backpack with them becuase it is everyone's first stop when they arrive in New Zealand. I want to see some fucking volcanoes and smell sulphuric acid when I'm taking a dip in some hot springs; the cafe life of Auckland isn't really up my alley.
2. I'm not alone. Within 2 minutes of stepping off the plane, I meet a Canadian girl, 23, who is on her working holiday visa as well, who is also WWOOfing. We make plans to meet up later. My hostel room is a 6 bed dorm and is reminiscent of supplimental housing at Penn State. I walk in and meet my room mates, 5 guys, all travelling alone, either just starting their trips or ending them. Sweden, Canada, Belgium Englan, Scotland, and of course America are all represented on my first stop. And within 10 minutes of meeting, we're singing tunes in the hostel beds as our Belgian musician accompanies on his bright blue guitar.
I'm already itching to get out of the city, which I am happy to know that in a few days, I will be heading up into the wild wild north to stay on a family's farm. This will be hilarious- me doing manual labor in the morning in exchange for a free place to stay and a bit to eat. As of now, internet is logging me off in 2 minutes, so I am departing to try to find a mobile phone that's not going to break my bank account. Goodbye iPhone :(
SO HELLO FROM AUCKLAND! I have arrived in the City of Sails safe and sound, no plane crash, no muggings, backpack in tact...pretty successful journey I'd say! And it truly has not really hit me that I am here now, in New Zealand, alone.
There are some reasons why that is:
1. Auckland is a pretty drab city. Not much going on aside from backpacker hostels, vodaphone stores and lots of kebab shops. Its like a city in the US except people speak with accents and 1/2 the population walking around the streets is carrying a 60 litre backpack with them becuase it is everyone's first stop when they arrive in New Zealand. I want to see some fucking volcanoes and smell sulphuric acid when I'm taking a dip in some hot springs; the cafe life of Auckland isn't really up my alley.
2. I'm not alone. Within 2 minutes of stepping off the plane, I meet a Canadian girl, 23, who is on her working holiday visa as well, who is also WWOOfing. We make plans to meet up later. My hostel room is a 6 bed dorm and is reminiscent of supplimental housing at Penn State. I walk in and meet my room mates, 5 guys, all travelling alone, either just starting their trips or ending them. Sweden, Canada, Belgium Englan, Scotland, and of course America are all represented on my first stop. And within 10 minutes of meeting, we're singing tunes in the hostel beds as our Belgian musician accompanies on his bright blue guitar.
I'm already itching to get out of the city, which I am happy to know that in a few days, I will be heading up into the wild wild north to stay on a family's farm. This will be hilarious- me doing manual labor in the morning in exchange for a free place to stay and a bit to eat. As of now, internet is logging me off in 2 minutes, so I am departing to try to find a mobile phone that's not going to break my bank account. Goodbye iPhone :(
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Signs to turn back?
It's 10:15 the night before my flight to Auckland and looking back on the events that have occurred in the past 48 hours makes me seriously question my decisions to proceed with this journey. Why? Well...
1. A Qantas plane engine blew up mid flight, and another plane was grounded after having technical problems. Strike one.
2. Yesterday, after festering all day in a cesspool of high tensions at my home, I decided to go for a nice jog around my neighborhood. I took my iPhone with me, as this is the device I have put all of my important information and music on and was planning on taking with me to New Zealand. Well, tunes jamming, fists pumpin, and adrenalin fucking flowing, I round a corner on the sidewalk and SPLAT. Mis-step in a hole, roll my fuckin ankle parallel to the pavement and tumble in a bloody heap on the side of the road. And what is in my hand as I try to break my fall? My iPhone. And what shatters in 6 million different pieces? My iPhone. So, I limp my sorry bloody ass home and assess the damage. iPhone clearly un-useable; ankle (now a kankle) has already reached sausage foot status. Strike 2.
3. Today, we drove to New York to visit relatives before I leave, and it was convenient because I also happen to be flying out of JFK airport. All is going wonderfully today, sausage foot had subsided, and I go to check in on my flight tomorrow online via the Qantas website. And what flashes up on my screen when enter my booking reference? FLIGHT CANCELLED. What. The. Fuck. So after an hour long hold on the phone with Qantas, I am booked on a flight on another airline that leaves out of JFK at 11:55 am. Which is all fine, until I realized that the NYC marathon is tomorrow. Meaning roads near the city will be shut down. And that my flight to Auckland doesn't leave LAX until 11:30 pm. Meaning I have a 9 hour layover in the shittiest airport in the country (perhaps world). Strike 3.
But, the show is going to go on. Blown up engines, sausage feet, smashed iPhones, and cancelled flights are not going to stop me from undertaking this journey. I've been waiting too damn long to let these minor roadblocks stop me- I just hope they weren't signs that were attempting to keep me from something going terribly, terribly wrong. Well f*ck you signs; The next time you hear from me, I'll be in the south pacific.
1. A Qantas plane engine blew up mid flight, and another plane was grounded after having technical problems. Strike one.
2. Yesterday, after festering all day in a cesspool of high tensions at my home, I decided to go for a nice jog around my neighborhood. I took my iPhone with me, as this is the device I have put all of my important information and music on and was planning on taking with me to New Zealand. Well, tunes jamming, fists pumpin, and adrenalin fucking flowing, I round a corner on the sidewalk and SPLAT. Mis-step in a hole, roll my fuckin ankle parallel to the pavement and tumble in a bloody heap on the side of the road. And what is in my hand as I try to break my fall? My iPhone. And what shatters in 6 million different pieces? My iPhone. So, I limp my sorry bloody ass home and assess the damage. iPhone clearly un-useable; ankle (now a kankle) has already reached sausage foot status. Strike 2.
3. Today, we drove to New York to visit relatives before I leave, and it was convenient because I also happen to be flying out of JFK airport. All is going wonderfully today, sausage foot had subsided, and I go to check in on my flight tomorrow online via the Qantas website. And what flashes up on my screen when enter my booking reference? FLIGHT CANCELLED. What. The. Fuck. So after an hour long hold on the phone with Qantas, I am booked on a flight on another airline that leaves out of JFK at 11:55 am. Which is all fine, until I realized that the NYC marathon is tomorrow. Meaning roads near the city will be shut down. And that my flight to Auckland doesn't leave LAX until 11:30 pm. Meaning I have a 9 hour layover in the shittiest airport in the country (perhaps world). Strike 3.
But, the show is going to go on. Blown up engines, sausage feet, smashed iPhones, and cancelled flights are not going to stop me from undertaking this journey. I've been waiting too damn long to let these minor roadblocks stop me- I just hope they weren't signs that were attempting to keep me from something going terribly, terribly wrong. Well f*ck you signs; The next time you hear from me, I'll be in the south pacific.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Qantas
Charlie: Ray, all airlines have crashed at one time or another, that doesn't mean that they are not safe.
Raymond: QANTAS. QANTAS never crashed.
Charlie: QANTAS?
Raymond: Never crashed.
Well Rain Man, you're wrong now. A few days ago, a Qantas plane on its way to Sydney had to make an emergency landing because a fucking engine exploded. And about 3 hours ago, another Qantas plane was grounded because it was also experiencing engine trouble. Convenient that my flight in 2 days across the Pacific Ocean happens to be with Qantas. GREAT. As if my mother isn't freaking the fuck out already about her only daughter traveling across the world by herself, now the airplane I will be spending 19 hours on could very likely my own personal death pod. But I'll be damned if I don't utilize the complimentary unlimited delicious Australian beverages that Qantas offers its passengers. So if and engine blows, at least I'll be going down absolutely hammered on Toohey's New and Pure Blondes. Always a silver lining.
Anyway, I purchased my travel insurance last night. And goddamn, that was a pretty annoying process. The plans tell you that you're covered for "Travel Accidents", so you're thinking, "Oh, if I get in an accident and I break my leg, I'm covered". Actually no, when you read the policy wording, the only way you're covered is:
You're in an accident during your trip that results in:
your death
total and permanent loss of sight in one or both of your eyes
permanent loss of one or both of your hands or feet when they are severed at or above the wrist or ankle
Pretty specific requirements when if comes to where your limbs are severed if you ask me. They also specifically note in the policy wording that they DO NOT cover for treatment of venereal diseases or STI's, so let's hope I don't contract the Clap while I'm away.
Well, I ended up buying insurance through IMGlobal, in case anyone cares. Now I'm insured, packed up, and ready to go! And don't worry, if my plane does go down, I'm covered.
Raymond: QANTAS. QANTAS never crashed.
Charlie: QANTAS?
Raymond: Never crashed.
Well Rain Man, you're wrong now. A few days ago, a Qantas plane on its way to Sydney had to make an emergency landing because a fucking engine exploded. And about 3 hours ago, another Qantas plane was grounded because it was also experiencing engine trouble. Convenient that my flight in 2 days across the Pacific Ocean happens to be with Qantas. GREAT. As if my mother isn't freaking the fuck out already about her only daughter traveling across the world by herself, now the airplane I will be spending 19 hours on could very likely my own personal death pod. But I'll be damned if I don't utilize the complimentary unlimited delicious Australian beverages that Qantas offers its passengers. So if and engine blows, at least I'll be going down absolutely hammered on Toohey's New and Pure Blondes. Always a silver lining.
Anyway, I purchased my travel insurance last night. And goddamn, that was a pretty annoying process. The plans tell you that you're covered for "Travel Accidents", so you're thinking, "Oh, if I get in an accident and I break my leg, I'm covered". Actually no, when you read the policy wording, the only way you're covered is:
You're in an accident during your trip that results in:
your death
total and permanent loss of sight in one or both of your eyes
permanent loss of one or both of your hands or feet when they are severed at or above the wrist or ankle
Pretty specific requirements when if comes to where your limbs are severed if you ask me. They also specifically note in the policy wording that they DO NOT cover for treatment of venereal diseases or STI's, so let's hope I don't contract the Clap while I'm away.
Well, I ended up buying insurance through IMGlobal, in case anyone cares. Now I'm insured, packed up, and ready to go! And don't worry, if my plane does go down, I'm covered.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Packing
Ah yes, the first entry of my new travel blog. If you were one of the 13 people who followed my last blog, you will see that this one has quite a different angle than "Diaries of Ocean Rescue". It took me for-fucking ever to come up with a template for this blog, it looks like shit but we're going to deal with it for now.
So where do I begin? I left Corolla 2 weeks ago for the season, and now, because I am unemployed with an oh-so-useful degree in the Liberal Art, sixty grand in debt from Penn State and student loans, I've come up with the brilliant decision to take all of my hard-earned money I made this summer and blow it all on a 5 month backpacking trip to New Zealand. Why the hell not? I have no boyfriend, no job, no sense of what a real life actually is, and the probably obsessive fascination with backpackers and long term travelers. So although it may seem crazy, in 3 days, I am off to New Zealand by myself until March, and I can assure you that some ridiculous shit is about to be encountered.
So right now I am trying to decided what articles of clothing and hair products are dear enough to me to take them along on this journey. My backpack is a mere 65 Litres, and I have to fit everything I will be needing for 5 months in a sack that can fit on my back. So far I have:
3 teeshirts
5 tank tops
1 pair of black leggings
1 pair of jean shorts
1 long sleeve shirt
1 light sweater
1 trendy flanno
2 pairs of running shorts
1 pair of cotton shorts
2 hoodies
1 pair of black yoga pants
3 sports bras
2 regular bras
7 pairs of underwear (Don't worry, I will be doing laundry)
1 rain jacket
1 underarmor shirt/pants
1 pair of running/hiking shoes
1 pair of rainbows
1 pair of plastic jandals (for the sketchy hostel showers)
3 sundresses
2 bikinis
1 baseball cap
All of this shit rolled up in my pack takes about 3/4 of the space. I know that any other backpacker site will say that this is 3 times the amount of clothes that you need, but for God's sake, I'm not trying to wear khaki cargo zip-offs and wicking underwear and a floppy hat for my entire trip.
Along with clothes, I have to remember toiletrees. I got this awesome little gadget from REI that is a hanging shower case- fits all of my bathroom shit like contact stuff, shampoo, toothbrush, glasses, razor, hair products, etc. Props to Caitlins Dad for the luxury shampoo...I put some of that shit in travel bottles so my hair will be silky and smooth even after exiting the disgusting hostel showers. Don't judge; "roughing it" doesn't have to apply to subjects as important as high quality hair products.
Well, off to finish packing and gathering the last essential items. Remind me if I forget anything important.
So where do I begin? I left Corolla 2 weeks ago for the season, and now, because I am unemployed with an oh-so-useful degree in the Liberal Art, sixty grand in debt from Penn State and student loans, I've come up with the brilliant decision to take all of my hard-earned money I made this summer and blow it all on a 5 month backpacking trip to New Zealand. Why the hell not? I have no boyfriend, no job, no sense of what a real life actually is, and the probably obsessive fascination with backpackers and long term travelers. So although it may seem crazy, in 3 days, I am off to New Zealand by myself until March, and I can assure you that some ridiculous shit is about to be encountered.
So right now I am trying to decided what articles of clothing and hair products are dear enough to me to take them along on this journey. My backpack is a mere 65 Litres, and I have to fit everything I will be needing for 5 months in a sack that can fit on my back. So far I have:
3 teeshirts
5 tank tops
1 pair of black leggings
1 pair of jean shorts
1 long sleeve shirt
1 light sweater
1 trendy flanno
2 pairs of running shorts
1 pair of cotton shorts
2 hoodies
1 pair of black yoga pants
3 sports bras
2 regular bras
7 pairs of underwear (Don't worry, I will be doing laundry)
1 rain jacket
1 underarmor shirt/pants
1 pair of running/hiking shoes
1 pair of rainbows
1 pair of plastic jandals (for the sketchy hostel showers)
3 sundresses
2 bikinis
1 baseball cap
All of this shit rolled up in my pack takes about 3/4 of the space. I know that any other backpacker site will say that this is 3 times the amount of clothes that you need, but for God's sake, I'm not trying to wear khaki cargo zip-offs and wicking underwear and a floppy hat for my entire trip.
Along with clothes, I have to remember toiletrees. I got this awesome little gadget from REI that is a hanging shower case- fits all of my bathroom shit like contact stuff, shampoo, toothbrush, glasses, razor, hair products, etc. Props to Caitlins Dad for the luxury shampoo...I put some of that shit in travel bottles so my hair will be silky and smooth even after exiting the disgusting hostel showers. Don't judge; "roughing it" doesn't have to apply to subjects as important as high quality hair products.
Well, off to finish packing and gathering the last essential items. Remind me if I forget anything important.
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