So, you’ve read this far? You still want more, do you? You haven’t had enough? Alright, fine. I’ll give you even more. I’ll write until your eyelids close, until your head begins to dip, until you are fast asleep, drooling all over that fancy keyboard of yours. How will I accomplish this? I’ll cram 8 days into one post, of course.
Seriously though, I do actually have some stuff to write about. On return, I found that our rooms had been bombed for bedbugs. Right before we left for break, there was a small outbreak in our pod, but it got chemically treated. As a result, all of my food, electronics and clothes were in separate plastic bags on my bed, and my room had never looked cleaner.
Tuesday we had no class, as it was Kingitanga day, the Maori King’s birthday. This gave me a day to recover from my trip, get sorted, and ready for class. I had already missed a lecture by returning on Monday, but it’s only biochemistry. No big deal, right? Wrong.
Turns out that after a half semester, the professor for our biochemistry class switches. Out old lecturer, the dry yet incredibly humorous (unintentionally) professor who has spent his life researching honey, was gone. I missed him- I had gotten used to his teaching style and wit, and if anyone knows me, I freak out the first part of each semester as I try to determine the teaching style and grading style of each professor I have. Now, as the professors switch, I lose that inherent familiarity, and it makes me uncomfortable. Walking into class on Wednesday gave me a taste of what I was in for. Enter power points, overhead slides, whiteboard drawings, notes, printed lectures, lecture books, and of course, the textbook. Unlike the first part of the semester, this would require nightly revision and hours in the library. Luckily, I have the time and the willpower. After all, metabolic pathways won’t learn themselves, will they? No, they won’t. Metabolic pathways are lazy as.
Thursday was a day for developing photography ideas. I turned in (frantically) my first project before leaving for south island. Now, on return, I had to begin brainstorming for project 2. I decided I wanted to take a certain direction with this second photographic process. I wanted to shoot people- not with guns, but with a camera. I have never been good at capturing people in photography- those of you close to me, or those of you who have ever posed in front of my lens know this. I decided that here, now, is the perfect time to develop that skill. I know where I need improvement- in creative thought and in assertion of that thought. I want to be able to tell people exactly how and where to pose, why to make a certain face or turn their head. I want to tell them when they’ve got it right and when they’ve got it wrong. I want to be able to control the frame as I can with a still life, with a sunset or a landscape. I want to turn people into a medium I can control. I personally find it the most difficult subject to take, but the most important. People are emotion- they are what we connect to as fellow human beings, and thus I think they give us the strongest weapon we can have as photographers. They allow us to connect with the soul of our audience, through laughter, tears, pain, strength, wit, creativity, and energy. We can portray in one photograph the entire span of human emotion. While a picture of a flower or a waterfall can portray majesty, beauty or even awe, it seems to fall short. These photos have a place, of course. It’s just that I feel my house has become too small. I have become to comfortable doing what I do, and I want to step out. I want to get uncomfortable and grow, and let my work grow. So, as you can see, I am pretty passionate about this new project of mine. The question is, where do I get the models? I have the ideas- pieces about the circular nature of life, about religion, science, drugs, cancer, death, life, joy, wit, communism, and a few that are just meant to make you think ‘what the hell?’ yeah, a few of my ideas I created just to mess with my audience. Whether those particular pieces become reality though, the next few weeks will tell.
Wednesday and Thursday were fairly uneventful. Friday likewise was uneventful. The past week I have been hit by a serious of lethargic, rainy, depressing days. They were long yet gulped up in an instant at the same time. My desire to do everything, anything, faded. This occasionally happens to me- I will get in a funk, and become unproductive. Luckily, not much was breathing down my neck, so there weren’t bad side effects. Every time I get in a rut like this, something different pulls me out. Sometimes it is friends, or a book, or music. This time it was work. Sometimes, after a few weeks of vacation, nothing feels better than pulling out that biology book and getting to work. It feels good to get the hands dirty, to tell someone ‘sorry, but I can’t hang out- I have to study’. Call me a nerd, but it makes me feel busy and important, and that completely counteracts and neutralizes any feeling of inadequacy or lethargy I accumulate.
Saturday was ANZAC day. ANZAC stands for Australian New Zealand Army Corps. The day commemorates the day the soldiers sent to war during WWI (in 1915) landed at Gallipoli. The day is marked by dawn services across the country (and Australia too). It is like our independence day, but more solemn. There are no cheers or drinking or baseball games. There are salutes, and ‘The Last Post’ is heard echoing through the cemeteries where those soldiers still lie. Stores by law cannot open before 1 pm. I did not take part in any ceremonies or watch any parades. I was in a funk, remember?
Saturday night a bunch of us got together to cook a dinner for Kristen’s birthday, which was over the break (we were in the car all day, probably the most boring day of the trip). To be honest, we decided to do cooking because I missed it. Even being away from a kitchen for a week was getting to me. I fear I may have caught the cooking bug. I guess there are worse hobbies to have, right? After dinner (which took several hours to cook) we went out on the town and danced for hours. We called it a night at 1 am (early nights here, remember?) and went to sleep.
Now I guess I’ll go into something I figure I should write about: the Swine Flu. Now, if you want to stop reading now, that’s fine- I am writing this so that I’ll have a record of this thing if it ever does seem to get out of control. I wish I had written on my first reactions after 9/11, Katrina, the Tsunami, the Washington snipers, and other events I feel have shaped our world in the short time I’ve been on it. If I write about this and it blows over and is forgotten in 3 years, that’s fine with me- no electrons wasted. If, however, this does become a longer hitting news piece, I’ll want to remember how I felt about it now while it was still pretty small. Either way, here goes.
Saturday is when I first heard about this thing. My friend Dylan came up to me and told me about some flu that was spreading from Mexico to America, killing people. I looked it up, and saw no real cause for alarm, but it was still peculiar. It had gotten into the US by this point, April 25. I kept it in the back of my mind.
All throughout Sunday the news began to spread. There were more possible cases of flu in the US, even more in Mexico with the death toll climbing. It started to look like it may be something more than just some media hype. I think it was Sunday that the UK got its first unconfirmed case, meaning it might have slipped over the Atlantic. Well, on Sunday it slipped over the Pacific too- it got to New Zealand. What a peculiar feeling- to see this virus go from my home country all the way to New Zealand, on the other side of the world. It made breaking news here, and friends of mine went to school near or at the school that was infected. People here started to freak out that there might be spreading here in NZ and in the Waikato region, but it didn’t seem that big a deal to me. No deaths or serious complications in people outside of Mexico. Even if it spreads, it seems to me like it will be pretty mild. Maybe that is me being naïve, but I just don’t see that much reason for alarm.
Monday, 2 days ago. Over a dozen countries might have the virus, including Australia, NZ, parts of Europe, America, Canada, and Central/South America. This really began to pique my interest. I began to follow the story closely, and see the infections map pop up over the web. A Newspaper article for the day listed the flu as its main headline, saying Waikato region was going on alert.
Tuesday, yesterday: The main headline reads that 2 people coming back from Auckland have entered Waikato and may be infected. I still can’t believe how quickly this thing has traveled. The idea that this virus, hitting news less than a week ago, may have already made it to my area? In NZ? Luckily, later tests confirm that these 2 do not have the virus. We are flu free for now. The US is not as lucky though- already by this point over a dozen states may have the virus: at least 4 or 5 have it confirmed. Canada has several provinces with confirmed infections. It’s all people are talking about at dinner. Still, I think the media are hyping it up, but they are doing a good job- I am staying interested.
Wednesday: today. Looking up on the internet, I see over 30 countries with possible infections, including 9 confirmed. NZ is now one of these, along with Mexico, US, Canada, UK, Israel, Germany, Spain, and a few others. Most of Europe has possible cases, as does most of South America. The spreading of this thing is starting to get a bit… surprising. It really shows how quickly the world moves its human cargo. Look up a time scale map if you are keen. You will see how quickly these cases pop up. It looks nice and impressive, almost like a coloring book being filled in. The thing that has to be kept in mind is that if a single case in Russia is suspected, all of a sudden a sixth of the world’s landmass turns orange for ‘possible case’. In reality, of the over 200 million people in the country, one person has minor flu symptoms. While these maps are cool, they seem to be a tool for… unsubstantiated drama. They blow this thing out of proportion a bit.
Tonight we had a compulsory swine flu meeting. One of my friends wasn’t there. I later found out that he went to take his friend to the hospital, for flu symptoms. I have heard nothing else except they are both fine, but it leads me to wonder how easy it would be for the flu to get here. Anyway, for anyone that cares, everyone here is fine. I am fine. I see North Carolina may have some cases, New Jersey and New York definitely have some. I’ll be monitoring the progress of this over the next few days, and will probably be writing about it some. I hope nobody minds too much.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Day 59- Our last day in South Island
So, our last day we left for Christchurch, but not before cleaning out my bottle. It was full of mud and rocks, which were easily removed. However, it soon became clear that one rock was too big to come out. That seems rather impossible: how could it have gotten in if it was too big to get out?
Turns out the rock was really a rock crab. The poor little guy went in when he was small, and grew inside the bottle. I tried to take him out, but could not. I decided I would take him with me, filled the bottle with water, and packed him up.
We went into Christchurch for a few hours before our flight, and wandered. We went back to Cathedral square (which has the most beautiful war memorial I have ever seen), and then down to old Otago university, where Ernest Rutherford worked on his theories about the atom (he was a Kiwi scientist, a fact they are quite proud of. He is also on the 100 dollar bill). Before we knew it it was time to go. We boarded our flight (where we got dinner and beer/wine free of extra charge) and were back in Hamilton before we knew it. Thus ended the last day in our massive adventure. As you can imagine, you are tired of reading and I, frankly, and tired of writing. What can I say in summary of this trip?
The trip acted, more than anything, as a sampler of South Island. I now have a list 4 times longer than when I started the trip of things to do. I feel like we traveled around enough to get a taste of the island, but didn’t get the time to really feel at home in any one place. I also feel like we really bonded- by the end of the trip I really felt like a family with these people I came to know. We did everything together- from cooking to traveling. Not once did someone snap at another, something I was fully expecting. There was almost no tension over 18 days.
Something else that struck me about the trip is how it kindled my passion for traveling. I feel like I know nothing about my home country, or even my state now. I want to return and go to Canada, to the Southwest, Louisiana, Utah, Montana, California, Alaska, Massachusetts… I want to see everything. My first thought when I saw those mountains on day 2, after ‘wow’, was ‘now I’m really living’. I still feel that way. It makes me wonder how much time I and other people spend wasting their lives on things so utterly unimportant to them. I am not saying that everyone should go out and see the world- I am just suggesting that you find a passion, and stick to it. Life seems so much better with it. I don’t feel like I am missing out on these experiences anymore, and that is a message I am happy to walk away with.
Turns out the rock was really a rock crab. The poor little guy went in when he was small, and grew inside the bottle. I tried to take him out, but could not. I decided I would take him with me, filled the bottle with water, and packed him up.
We went into Christchurch for a few hours before our flight, and wandered. We went back to Cathedral square (which has the most beautiful war memorial I have ever seen), and then down to old Otago university, where Ernest Rutherford worked on his theories about the atom (he was a Kiwi scientist, a fact they are quite proud of. He is also on the 100 dollar bill). Before we knew it it was time to go. We boarded our flight (where we got dinner and beer/wine free of extra charge) and were back in Hamilton before we knew it. Thus ended the last day in our massive adventure. As you can imagine, you are tired of reading and I, frankly, and tired of writing. What can I say in summary of this trip?
The trip acted, more than anything, as a sampler of South Island. I now have a list 4 times longer than when I started the trip of things to do. I feel like we traveled around enough to get a taste of the island, but didn’t get the time to really feel at home in any one place. I also feel like we really bonded- by the end of the trip I really felt like a family with these people I came to know. We did everything together- from cooking to traveling. Not once did someone snap at another, something I was fully expecting. There was almost no tension over 18 days.
Something else that struck me about the trip is how it kindled my passion for traveling. I feel like I know nothing about my home country, or even my state now. I want to return and go to Canada, to the Southwest, Louisiana, Utah, Montana, California, Alaska, Massachusetts… I want to see everything. My first thought when I saw those mountains on day 2, after ‘wow’, was ‘now I’m really living’. I still feel that way. It makes me wonder how much time I and other people spend wasting their lives on things so utterly unimportant to them. I am not saying that everyone should go out and see the world- I am just suggesting that you find a passion, and stick to it. Life seems so much better with it. I don’t feel like I am missing out on these experiences anymore, and that is a message I am happy to walk away with.
Day 58- Redefining the nuclear family, and a French Flair
We woke up, had breakfast (we were quickly dwindling on food) and dropped off Dylan and Fabian at the airport. We then drove to a small town called Akaroa, about 70 K’s away from Christchurch. It was something we decided to do on a whim- by word of the Brits we encountered days before, and it was a great suggestion.
A ways through the trip, we reached the highest peak in the area, at a few hundred meters tall. Below us was a pastoral scene- green rolling hills covered in morning sunlight. To the left was a series of gentle mountains, and rolling down them was a thick bank of fog. The low lying clouds were acting like foam from an overfilled beer- they spilled over the crests of the peaks, and into the valley below, keeping right to the ground. They moved so fast that we could see the specters advancing onto the fields below. We sat and watched. It was perfect- it was content. It was out of a movie, or so it seemed.
We drove the rest of the way to Akaroa, and were hit by a feeling of… rightness. Everything was pleasant here. The town was the only French settlement in the country, and the influences are obvious. Nestled in a bay, which itself is nestled in a bay, which itself is on a peninsula forming a bay, Akaroa is a peculiarly situated town. The population could not have been more than 3 or 4 thousand. Sailboats flocked in the quiet harbor. I felt as though I was in an 18th century Caribbean French settlement. The sun was shining, the breeze was light, the grass was green and the water blue. Out of all the places we visited, this was one of my most favorite, because it was just right. There were no extreme mountains or raging rivers- there were no bungee sites or glaciers. It was a pleasant town, and while I normally abhor the idea of a perfect place, I didn’t here. I suppose I tend to associate perfect with boring, but here the two don’t even begin to overlap.
We checked into our hostel, to learn it was the highest rated hostel in all of New Zealand. The beautiful historic farmhouse had large rooms, a pear tree, chestnuts, walnuts, free fruit, right on the coast, with pastoral views on all sides. I wrote a postcard and watched a shepherd herding sheep in front of me. We walked out on the coast, and walked to a peninsula which was originally a Maori Pa, or fortress. Imagine a bay. Jutting out of the bay is a peninsula that is quite large at the tip, but where it meets the mainland it is so narrow that at high tide only a footpath is exposed. This footpath is about 30 feet in the air, with no railings on either side. Drop off, and say hello to a face full of rocks. We didn’t drop, and got to the top. At the summit there was a group of exposed limestone outcrops, similar to a smaller version of Castle hill. We watched the sun set behind the hills, and watched the fog roll in, which it did quickly.
Walking back along the beach, we came across beach glass. I love beach glass, and picked up over 20 pieces. I at last found an entire beach bottle- it had been tossed in the waves, but not recently. It had organisms growing on it- obviously it had been in the sea for awhile. It was full of mud, but I took it back. We went to sleep early that night.
A ways through the trip, we reached the highest peak in the area, at a few hundred meters tall. Below us was a pastoral scene- green rolling hills covered in morning sunlight. To the left was a series of gentle mountains, and rolling down them was a thick bank of fog. The low lying clouds were acting like foam from an overfilled beer- they spilled over the crests of the peaks, and into the valley below, keeping right to the ground. They moved so fast that we could see the specters advancing onto the fields below. We sat and watched. It was perfect- it was content. It was out of a movie, or so it seemed.
We drove the rest of the way to Akaroa, and were hit by a feeling of… rightness. Everything was pleasant here. The town was the only French settlement in the country, and the influences are obvious. Nestled in a bay, which itself is nestled in a bay, which itself is on a peninsula forming a bay, Akaroa is a peculiarly situated town. The population could not have been more than 3 or 4 thousand. Sailboats flocked in the quiet harbor. I felt as though I was in an 18th century Caribbean French settlement. The sun was shining, the breeze was light, the grass was green and the water blue. Out of all the places we visited, this was one of my most favorite, because it was just right. There were no extreme mountains or raging rivers- there were no bungee sites or glaciers. It was a pleasant town, and while I normally abhor the idea of a perfect place, I didn’t here. I suppose I tend to associate perfect with boring, but here the two don’t even begin to overlap.
We checked into our hostel, to learn it was the highest rated hostel in all of New Zealand. The beautiful historic farmhouse had large rooms, a pear tree, chestnuts, walnuts, free fruit, right on the coast, with pastoral views on all sides. I wrote a postcard and watched a shepherd herding sheep in front of me. We walked out on the coast, and walked to a peninsula which was originally a Maori Pa, or fortress. Imagine a bay. Jutting out of the bay is a peninsula that is quite large at the tip, but where it meets the mainland it is so narrow that at high tide only a footpath is exposed. This footpath is about 30 feet in the air, with no railings on either side. Drop off, and say hello to a face full of rocks. We didn’t drop, and got to the top. At the summit there was a group of exposed limestone outcrops, similar to a smaller version of Castle hill. We watched the sun set behind the hills, and watched the fog roll in, which it did quickly.
Walking back along the beach, we came across beach glass. I love beach glass, and picked up over 20 pieces. I at last found an entire beach bottle- it had been tossed in the waves, but not recently. It had organisms growing on it- obviously it had been in the sea for awhile. It was full of mud, but I took it back. We went to sleep early that night.
Day 57- Back to Christchurch
We woke up and got on the road again. Today was a long drive- we had to go all the way back to Christchurch, around 400 Kilometers, much of it through windy mountain roads. We stopped for lunch at lake Tekapo, a small settlement on an astoundingly blue lake- there seem to be a lot of those here. We briefly lost Kristen, because she went into a café and met a childhood friend from Minnesota. By this point we were fairly sure that God was playing a practical joke on us- “See, it really is a small world!”. We shook our heads- surprise had turned into expectation.
We eventually made it into Christchurch with a few hours of daylight to spare, and checked into our hostel, which was a historic building. We walked around city center, and saw cathedral square (where there was a fire juggler). I picked up a free book I found on some steps- they were given out all over the city. We wandered through historic squares and streets, and eventually decided to stop for food. We chose Chinese, but barely over a Russian restaurant. After eating (the atmosphere wasn’t great, but the food sure was), we wandered around and decided to visit an Irish pub for a drink. We enjoyed a pint, and on our way out, we hit another preposterous coincidence; we met Mareka, a German exchange student from Student Village- we eat dinner with her at uni more days than not. The chances of seeing this German girl we know, in an Irish pub, in a city of 360,000, is remarkable. It was almost like the icing on the cake for us- just to drive the point home that this was a truly phenomenal series of events. We walked home and slept in the most comfortable beds I had ever laid on. I slept like a baby.
We eventually made it into Christchurch with a few hours of daylight to spare, and checked into our hostel, which was a historic building. We walked around city center, and saw cathedral square (where there was a fire juggler). I picked up a free book I found on some steps- they were given out all over the city. We wandered through historic squares and streets, and eventually decided to stop for food. We chose Chinese, but barely over a Russian restaurant. After eating (the atmosphere wasn’t great, but the food sure was), we wandered around and decided to visit an Irish pub for a drink. We enjoyed a pint, and on our way out, we hit another preposterous coincidence; we met Mareka, a German exchange student from Student Village- we eat dinner with her at uni more days than not. The chances of seeing this German girl we know, in an Irish pub, in a city of 360,000, is remarkable. It was almost like the icing on the cake for us- just to drive the point home that this was a truly phenomenal series of events. We walked home and slept in the most comfortable beds I had ever laid on. I slept like a baby.
Day 56: Wanna go to Wanaka?
So, the next morning we performed a ritual which by this point was second nature: wake up, pack up, ship out. As with every morning, I was the last one to grumpily awake, eat a quick breakfast, and get rolling. Unlike most mornings though, we had a detour. It was time to go bungee jumping.
We had signed up for the jump the day before, at the first bungee site in either NZ or the world (not sure on the details). It was a 43 (150ft) meter drop to the river below, over an old disused bridge. 4 of us would be jumping- I didn’t dare risk it for fear of my back being injured again, but the other 4 guys were…enthused. As soon as they had paid before there was a range of emotion: Dylan was instantly regretting the outflux of cash, Fabian was immediately regretting that he now had to jump off a bridge, Jens was calling ‘shotgun’ on first jump, and Andrew was stuck in silent contemplation (probably wondering if gravity worked on Canadians).
We drove to the location, which was almost painful in its beauty. The river was a bright aqua blue- the trees on the cliff’s edge had just began to turn, and were a beautiful golden hue. The cliff walls were reflecting the morning sun- it was a perfect day to die… I mean jump- it was the perfect day to jump.
The jump, I was told, was exhilarating. There was no feeling of falling, no pit in your stomach. It was universally described as utter freedom. I wish I had risked it. All 4 jumped, and each had a different style. Jens, the first, silently plunged to the water below, barely missing it- he let out a victory yell. Fabian, second to go, spread his arms, screamed an utterance is German, and succumbed to gravity himself. Dylan, a six foot 200 pound fellow, had the most graceful jump I had ever seen- he dove and almost reached the river, and then began his springy ascent up a few feet. Unlike the others, though, Dylan became an acrobat- he arched his back and sailed through the air. There was every indication this man was flying, with all the confidence of a raptor. He looked over the ground he was defying, and seemed to command the altitude he desired. It was something to behold, especially behind a 200mm camera lens. To round things out, Andrew got on the plank, gave his usual thumbs up, and shouted “To infinity, and Beyond!” before jumping with abandon. He went straight first into the river, and then was yanked back up by the cord, spiraling as water flung from him in every direction. All four styles were unique and wonderful to watch.
After the jumps (totally worth it) we drove among mountains and hills to Wanaka. Wanaka is as beautiful (nearly) as Queenstown, but not nearly as touristy. Also on a lake (Lake Wanaka), the town boasts kayaking, biking, and free glacier trekking/mountain hiking. Fabian and I rented some bikes and took some pictures along the lake- as the sun set between the peaks, it illuminated the far side, which was a series of grassy steppes, unlike anything I had seen before. As we rounded a bend, we then came across a shore that looked like Tuscany (so I was told by Fabian). It still amazes me how quickly the scenery can change here in this country.
After our bike ride (only cost us about $8 USD) we made dinner- salad! We had to hurry, though, because we had a surprise for Dylan and Fabian- something a Canadian we met suggested to us more than a week before. We hit up the cinema.
The Wanaka Cinema is a piece of work- the closest thing I had seen since was Galaxy Cinema in Cary, NC. The entire seating arrangement consisted of armchairs, couches, loveseats, and even an old car (drive in movie, anyone?). It is like sitting at home in your comfy sofa, with a 30 foot TV screen. The place makes food to take in, soda, water, tea, coffee, popcorn, beer, wine, and best of all- cookies. The show (we watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button) had a 10 minute intermission, which coincided with cookie time. They were soft, gooey, homemade, and giant. This was the best film experience I have had in a good long while. We walked back under the Wanaka stars, talked about physics, string theory, and multiverses (multiple or an infinite amount of universes), and called it a night.
We had signed up for the jump the day before, at the first bungee site in either NZ or the world (not sure on the details). It was a 43 (150ft) meter drop to the river below, over an old disused bridge. 4 of us would be jumping- I didn’t dare risk it for fear of my back being injured again, but the other 4 guys were…enthused. As soon as they had paid before there was a range of emotion: Dylan was instantly regretting the outflux of cash, Fabian was immediately regretting that he now had to jump off a bridge, Jens was calling ‘shotgun’ on first jump, and Andrew was stuck in silent contemplation (probably wondering if gravity worked on Canadians).
We drove to the location, which was almost painful in its beauty. The river was a bright aqua blue- the trees on the cliff’s edge had just began to turn, and were a beautiful golden hue. The cliff walls were reflecting the morning sun- it was a perfect day to die… I mean jump- it was the perfect day to jump.
The jump, I was told, was exhilarating. There was no feeling of falling, no pit in your stomach. It was universally described as utter freedom. I wish I had risked it. All 4 jumped, and each had a different style. Jens, the first, silently plunged to the water below, barely missing it- he let out a victory yell. Fabian, second to go, spread his arms, screamed an utterance is German, and succumbed to gravity himself. Dylan, a six foot 200 pound fellow, had the most graceful jump I had ever seen- he dove and almost reached the river, and then began his springy ascent up a few feet. Unlike the others, though, Dylan became an acrobat- he arched his back and sailed through the air. There was every indication this man was flying, with all the confidence of a raptor. He looked over the ground he was defying, and seemed to command the altitude he desired. It was something to behold, especially behind a 200mm camera lens. To round things out, Andrew got on the plank, gave his usual thumbs up, and shouted “To infinity, and Beyond!” before jumping with abandon. He went straight first into the river, and then was yanked back up by the cord, spiraling as water flung from him in every direction. All four styles were unique and wonderful to watch.
After the jumps (totally worth it) we drove among mountains and hills to Wanaka. Wanaka is as beautiful (nearly) as Queenstown, but not nearly as touristy. Also on a lake (Lake Wanaka), the town boasts kayaking, biking, and free glacier trekking/mountain hiking. Fabian and I rented some bikes and took some pictures along the lake- as the sun set between the peaks, it illuminated the far side, which was a series of grassy steppes, unlike anything I had seen before. As we rounded a bend, we then came across a shore that looked like Tuscany (so I was told by Fabian). It still amazes me how quickly the scenery can change here in this country.
After our bike ride (only cost us about $8 USD) we made dinner- salad! We had to hurry, though, because we had a surprise for Dylan and Fabian- something a Canadian we met suggested to us more than a week before. We hit up the cinema.
The Wanaka Cinema is a piece of work- the closest thing I had seen since was Galaxy Cinema in Cary, NC. The entire seating arrangement consisted of armchairs, couches, loveseats, and even an old car (drive in movie, anyone?). It is like sitting at home in your comfy sofa, with a 30 foot TV screen. The place makes food to take in, soda, water, tea, coffee, popcorn, beer, wine, and best of all- cookies. The show (we watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button) had a 10 minute intermission, which coincided with cookie time. They were soft, gooey, homemade, and giant. This was the best film experience I have had in a good long while. We walked back under the Wanaka stars, talked about physics, string theory, and multiverses (multiple or an infinite amount of universes), and called it a night.
Day 55- Queenstown
We drove the 3 hours to Queenstown, situated on Lake Wakatipu. The drive is what we were used to by this point- majestic peaks descending into crystal clear lakes of a color blue I have only seen in postcards. The lake is long- it took us almost an hour to drive up half of its length to get to Queenstown. It didn’t help that on the way we almost got run over by a house. As we were driving down this narrow 2 lane road (which serves as the main highway), cars ahead of us were passing a truck and pulling onto the grass. Strange. The car then passed us and told us to do the same. We did, and perplexed, saw a utility truck with the strangest sign I have ever seen on top of a pole from the bed: House Follows.
I’m sorry? A house is following you? That sounds like a personal problem. It is here when we see a very stressed looking flatbed towing a very whole house. It is then that we realized this was everyone’s problem. The house was attached to the truck by a few seemingly pitiful cables, and as it neared we noticed it probably wasn’t going to fit, smashing our van to pieces and sending it careening to the lake below, all so that someone could move their domicile to a better location. Luckily, the truck knew what it was doing, and we narrowly missed what was sure to have been an utterly horrendous multinational catastrophe. After that completely bizarre encounter, we were on our way to Queenstown.
The town itself with a population of about 13,000, is labeled as the adventure capital of the world, and it lives up to the name without a doubt. The town itself is not much of an exciting place- out of the whole of the south island I would personally label it (though I would not be the only one to do so) the most ‘touristy’ place. Unlike most of the other towns and locales we had visited, this place had bars upon bars, tons of souvenir shops, more restaurants than there ought to be, and other instruments of a busy society. The streets were packed and fast, and the town itself was quite condensed. The town being unremarkable didn’t bother me much, though- the majesty of the area around me kept my eyes diverted away from civilization. We got in and were immediately struck by the position the town is on the terrain- it is settled in between two mountain peaks, overlooking a placid lake that itself is surrounded by mountain peaks. The lake, which stretches as far as the eye can see left and right, is only a mile or two across. The other side was easily approachable and visible, but uninhabited (which made the view even better in my humble opinion). With only a day in Queenstown, our options for adventure were limited (as was our budget). Kayaking, Skydiving, Jetboating, helicopters, flying, paragliding, and a whole host of other options were cancelled out. We decided in the end to split up. I decided I would hike a small mountain.
I don’t remember the name of the peak, but it was within sight of Queenstown, and was pretty steep. Our initial climb was the hardest- roads that went straight up the slope to the ritzy new developments were the most taxing. Once we were on the trail however, the path flattened out and took a more meandering course. After a 90 minute walk to the summit, I wasn’t ready to call it quits. I said goodbye to my friends who hiked with me, and decided to set out a bit on my own. I found a small narrow footpath, barely large enough to walk on. I later determined it was probably a route for sheep, as this was a farmer’s land that he granted public access to. I walked along this for another 40 minutes or so, simply wandering wherever the path took me. The forest up the other side of the mountain we had hiked (which was reminiscent of Appalachia more so than anywhere else I had yet set foot on) was replaced by rolling, flowing golden grassland. On top of his peak were swamps, ponds and fantastic views. As I rounded the mountain and came to the far side, where Queenstown was just a memory, I was hit by one the most beautiful sights I have ever beheld. The pasture gave way to steep declines, which allowed me to see a rustic mountain valley, bathed in the late afternoon sun. The golden peaks were split in the center by a steep valley, which flattened at the bottom for a few kilometers, then rose itself into a third, middle mountain range. These red peaks were either barren or coated in golden grass plains. The sunbeams were visible- they illuminated the central ridgeline, making the light and shadows in the scene almost palpable. It was a sight to behold- and for once, I am glad I didn’t bring my camera along.
That night in Queenstown we went out to a local bar/pool hall and played a game or two, and met both our friends the Brits from the two days before, and the German Pals of Jens and Fabian. Kristen also made a new friend (as she does everywhere) and we added a Dutch girl to our ensemble. After a night full of conversation (surprisingly deep conversation, I might add) we called it a night.
I’m sorry? A house is following you? That sounds like a personal problem. It is here when we see a very stressed looking flatbed towing a very whole house. It is then that we realized this was everyone’s problem. The house was attached to the truck by a few seemingly pitiful cables, and as it neared we noticed it probably wasn’t going to fit, smashing our van to pieces and sending it careening to the lake below, all so that someone could move their domicile to a better location. Luckily, the truck knew what it was doing, and we narrowly missed what was sure to have been an utterly horrendous multinational catastrophe. After that completely bizarre encounter, we were on our way to Queenstown.
The town itself with a population of about 13,000, is labeled as the adventure capital of the world, and it lives up to the name without a doubt. The town itself is not much of an exciting place- out of the whole of the south island I would personally label it (though I would not be the only one to do so) the most ‘touristy’ place. Unlike most of the other towns and locales we had visited, this place had bars upon bars, tons of souvenir shops, more restaurants than there ought to be, and other instruments of a busy society. The streets were packed and fast, and the town itself was quite condensed. The town being unremarkable didn’t bother me much, though- the majesty of the area around me kept my eyes diverted away from civilization. We got in and were immediately struck by the position the town is on the terrain- it is settled in between two mountain peaks, overlooking a placid lake that itself is surrounded by mountain peaks. The lake, which stretches as far as the eye can see left and right, is only a mile or two across. The other side was easily approachable and visible, but uninhabited (which made the view even better in my humble opinion). With only a day in Queenstown, our options for adventure were limited (as was our budget). Kayaking, Skydiving, Jetboating, helicopters, flying, paragliding, and a whole host of other options were cancelled out. We decided in the end to split up. I decided I would hike a small mountain.
I don’t remember the name of the peak, but it was within sight of Queenstown, and was pretty steep. Our initial climb was the hardest- roads that went straight up the slope to the ritzy new developments were the most taxing. Once we were on the trail however, the path flattened out and took a more meandering course. After a 90 minute walk to the summit, I wasn’t ready to call it quits. I said goodbye to my friends who hiked with me, and decided to set out a bit on my own. I found a small narrow footpath, barely large enough to walk on. I later determined it was probably a route for sheep, as this was a farmer’s land that he granted public access to. I walked along this for another 40 minutes or so, simply wandering wherever the path took me. The forest up the other side of the mountain we had hiked (which was reminiscent of Appalachia more so than anywhere else I had yet set foot on) was replaced by rolling, flowing golden grassland. On top of his peak were swamps, ponds and fantastic views. As I rounded the mountain and came to the far side, where Queenstown was just a memory, I was hit by one the most beautiful sights I have ever beheld. The pasture gave way to steep declines, which allowed me to see a rustic mountain valley, bathed in the late afternoon sun. The golden peaks were split in the center by a steep valley, which flattened at the bottom for a few kilometers, then rose itself into a third, middle mountain range. These red peaks were either barren or coated in golden grass plains. The sunbeams were visible- they illuminated the central ridgeline, making the light and shadows in the scene almost palpable. It was a sight to behold- and for once, I am glad I didn’t bring my camera along.
That night in Queenstown we went out to a local bar/pool hall and played a game or two, and met both our friends the Brits from the two days before, and the German Pals of Jens and Fabian. Kristen also made a new friend (as she does everywhere) and we added a Dutch girl to our ensemble. After a night full of conversation (surprisingly deep conversation, I might add) we called it a night.
Day 54- Milford Sound
We woke up early to get to Milford Sound, in Fjordland national park. The drive was only 120km, in 100 kph zones, but it took over 2 hours to get there, because the drive was too beautiful to speed through. We stopped on several occasions to take pictures and enjoy the scenery. Our drive took us through golden plains, rain swelled alpine creeks (which we drank from), moss covered rocks, and glacier topped mountain peaks. We eventually reached the sound, and hit yet another coincidence- Fabian and Jens, our two German companions, met two of their classmates here, literally halfway around the world from Germany. They ended up cruising the sound with us, which was one of the most fun experiences I have done here in NZ. As the ship went out into the sound, the wind immediately picked up. It continued to blow from a breeze to a gale to a force I had never felt before. Standing on the upper deck of the ship, one could lean over perhaps 20 or 30 degrees into the wind and stay balanced due to the force of it pushing on the front of the body. Several of the passengers decided to hop into the air, just to see if the wind would carry them. It certainly did- a vertical jump quickly became a frightening, exhilarating, and probably very stupid horizontal journey as the wind took the people and flew them like kites. They all landed safely only a few feet back, but a few looked as though they may take off for good. To get a taste of really how strong this wind was, two peculiar things happened. First, the wind was blowing across the water so hard that it was literally vaporizing the topmost water layer, then whisking it around and up away from the water line. Another thing that I saw that I never thought I would were waterfalls that went up. As water would fall over these peaks and descend into the sound, they often hit such strong wind that the water never made it to the bottom; they too would vaporize within a few meters of falling. Some waterfalls were in such windy spots, however, that as soon as the water crested over a ridge to fall, it would be blown straight up, creating a strange reverse waterfall. It just seemed to defy logic- it was a surreal feeling.
After the sound tour, we returned to Te Anau, but took a few stops along the way. One of these stops is the Chasm, an area where waterfalls have carved massive round holes into the side of the rock, resulting in pits of beautiful shapes, all covered in moss. As I was crossing the footbridge to overlook the chasm, I hear a voice behind me: “Are you from UNCW?”
No way.
I turn around to see a girl and guy my age, looking inquisitively at me. I then remembered that I was in fact wearing a teal UNCW move-in shirt, which would make me a target to seahawks a mile away. I spoke with these two, and found that one, Daniel, was a UNCW student- the other was a former student who had transferred to Maryland. Both of them lived in Seahawk Village, within sight of my apartment back home in Wilmington. Surely there are no coincidences.
On our return to Te Anau, we went back to our hostel to prepare dinner, where Fabian’s german friends check in. We all have dinner, and we meet a group of Brits who are heading along the same track we are, to Queenstown. During dinner (which by this point in the trip easily lasts 2 hours) we sat and had a conversation and discussion on whether denominations are a good thing in the Christian faith and tradition. It was a great conversation, because it included the viewpoints of 3 countries, 4 denominations, and both believers and non-believers alike. Everyone contributed, and the entire conversation was an open minded search for truth by all- it was one of those dinners that you wish could last all night.
After the sound tour, we returned to Te Anau, but took a few stops along the way. One of these stops is the Chasm, an area where waterfalls have carved massive round holes into the side of the rock, resulting in pits of beautiful shapes, all covered in moss. As I was crossing the footbridge to overlook the chasm, I hear a voice behind me: “Are you from UNCW?”
No way.
I turn around to see a girl and guy my age, looking inquisitively at me. I then remembered that I was in fact wearing a teal UNCW move-in shirt, which would make me a target to seahawks a mile away. I spoke with these two, and found that one, Daniel, was a UNCW student- the other was a former student who had transferred to Maryland. Both of them lived in Seahawk Village, within sight of my apartment back home in Wilmington. Surely there are no coincidences.
On our return to Te Anau, we went back to our hostel to prepare dinner, where Fabian’s german friends check in. We all have dinner, and we meet a group of Brits who are heading along the same track we are, to Queenstown. During dinner (which by this point in the trip easily lasts 2 hours) we sat and had a conversation and discussion on whether denominations are a good thing in the Christian faith and tradition. It was a great conversation, because it included the viewpoints of 3 countries, 4 denominations, and both believers and non-believers alike. Everyone contributed, and the entire conversation was an open minded search for truth by all- it was one of those dinners that you wish could last all night.
Day 53- The road to Te Anau
After waving goodbye to Dunedin, we headed inland to the town of Te Anau. The drive went through rolling hills, with mountains in the background. Te Anau seems to be a relatively unremarkable place, except that it has a population or 3000 people and caters to a half million tourists and travelers per year. The town doesn’t really have anything to distinguish itself, but the surrounding area is quite beautiful. Te Anau is right on the edge of Fjordland national park, NZ’s largest national park. We checked into our accommodation, which were a series of cabins overlooking the mountains. The area was situated on a deer farm, and was thus sparsely inhabited. We saw the sun set over the sound, and watches the stars peek out of the evening sky. I quickly noticed two things- first, there was no noise- no cars, no televisions, and no airplanes. Second- there were no lights. In front of me was a 180 degree field of view, with no headlights, streetlamps, illuminated windows or billboard signs- it was the most uninterrupted view of land at nighttime I have ever seen. We cooked dinner and met a few brits who were following the same route we were, and this is where we hit another astounding coincidence- Dylan met someone from back home who lives 20 minutes away from him, and Kristen found a girl who graduated with her sister and had her father as a professor, and lived in the same small town back in Minnesota! The coincidences that have and continued to follow us throughout the trip are uncanny- it makes one wonder how many chance meetings are missed by deciding to stay at hostel A instead of hostel B. One by one we went to sleep, and I decided to get some reading done. Soon most of the lodge was gone, except for me and a few French people, who invited me to come share a glass of wine and some conversation with them. We talked for well over an hour, and I then retired for the night, but not before one enjoying that spectacular night sky, uninterrupted by humanity.
Day 53- The road to Te Anau
After waving goodbye to Dunedin, we headed inland to the town of Te Anau. The drive went through rolling hills, with mountains in the background. Te Anau seems to be a relatively unremarkable place, except that it has a population or 3000 people and caters to a half million tourists and travelers per year. The town doesn’t really have anything to distinguish itself, but the surrounding area is quite beautiful. Te Anau is right on the edge of Fjordland national park, NZ’s largest national park. We checked into our accommodation, which were a series of cabins overlooking the mountains. The area was situated on a deer farm, and was thus sparsely inhabited. We saw the sun set over the sound, and watches the stars peek out of the evening sky. I quickly noticed two things- first, there was no noise- no cars, no televisions, and no airplanes. Second- there were no lights. In front of me was a 180 degree field of view, with no headlights, streetlamps, illuminated windows or billboard signs- it was the most uninterrupted view of land at nighttime I have ever seen. We cooked dinner and met a few brits who were following the same route we were, and this is where we hit another astounding coincidence- Dylan met someone from back home who lives 20 minutes away from him, and Kristen found a girl who graduated with her sister and had her father as a professor, and lived in the same small town back in Minnesota! The coincidences that have and continued to follow us throughout the trip are uncanny- it makes one wonder how many chance meetings are missed by deciding to stay at hostel A instead of hostel B. One by one we went to sleep, and I decided to get some reading done. Soon most of the lodge was gone, except for me and a few French people, who invited me to come share a glass of wine and some conversation with them. We talked for well over an hour, and I then retired for the night, but not before one enjoying that spectacular night sky, uninterrupted by humanity.
Day 52 Dunedin and Moeraki boulders
On the road early, we had a short drive to Dunedin, so we decided to take a brief stop at a natural attraction called the Moeraki boulders. These are large stone orbs, some larger than 2 meters across, strewn on the beach. They are known as Ooliths- minerals form around a nucleating agent, causing the round shape. Over hundreds of thousands or millions of years, these boulders are formed. Some of the boulders had been split open by elements, revealing their internal nature, which was quite impressive- veins of stone and mineral interlaced in an intricate pattern. Think of an old soccer ball, where the seams are beginning to darken, widen, and come apart.- now imagine it is 6 feet wide, thousands of pounds, and millions of years old. Thinking about it is pretty humbling- it makes you just begin to appreciate the age of the mountains around you.
Visiting the boulders made me realize another thing that had been niggling at the back of my mind for the entire trip- something I had just realized. All of the south island (and you could even say this for all of New Zealand) seems to be run by Karma. The entrance to the boulders was a one dollar payment, put in a box by good will. Some hostels didn’t even have locking doors. People gave you the benefit of the doubt- hitchhikers were common and safe. Trust abounded, and goodwill seemed to ooze from the land. The realization hit me, and made me smile. I like this place.
Within a few hours we had reached Dunedin, which I was told is Gaelic for ‘Edinburgh’. The town is situated on a bay (a peninsula, really), and extremely hilly. In fact, Dunedin has the steepest street in the world- we didn’t have time to visit it, though.
Dunedin is quite an interesting place. It boasts a population of 122,000 people, but a third of them are temporary residents; the university of Otago boasts several thousand students, which are temporary. Many overseas doctors and hospital staff are also temporary, not to mention tourists and travelers that are staying for months at a time. Despite only having 120,000 people, Dunedin is the third largest city in the world. The city limits (from city center) extend 30 kilometers south, and 60 km west and north (the Pacific ocean is to the east). The result is a massive metropolitan area, most of it uninhabited hill or farmland. Dunedin is also New Zealand’s richest city- every bank, insurance company, and major national company began in Dunedin; because it is so rich, it has beautiful cathedrals. Most of these cathedrals were built in the mid 19th century, and are a result of the settling population, which were mostly Scottish. As a result, most of these churches are Anglican or built for the Free Church of Scotland- pardon the lack of knowledge, for I don’t know the history of the latter in the least. As I said before, Dunedin is very hilly- most of it is built on old volcanic formations- as a result, the city was originally divided by a small volcanic ridge, which was carved away decades ago. The result of the carving is that an entire street was left up 30 feet in the air- a special staircase had to be built to allow access to it.
One last thing that I found quite interesting in Dunedin was the graffiti- most population centers in NZ, even pretty small ones, have a problem with graffiti, but Dunedin is different. Dunedin has a good deal of graffiti, but much of it is creative, positive, beautiful, or even funny. Walking across the city, I noticed certain themes, certain graffiti characters reappearing. One (which I sadly didn’t capture on film) was a very simply drawn giraffe- it was only a yellow head with dots- I saw this critter everywhere- in alleyways, peeking out of windows, in small, hidden and otherwise forgotten spaces. Sometimes the giraffe was happy- sometimes sad, sometimes inquisitive. Other areas of town were tagged by an artist known only as ‘Jester’- his stencil, Banksy-style work was captivating and though provoking (if you don’t know who Banksy is, I highly suggest you look up his work). Dunedin also has commissioned some professional graffiti work on some public areas that otherwise would be boring, concrete and unsightly. Dunedin takes an attitude towards this cultural urban phenomenon that I have not seen before, and I loved it.
So, we walked around Dunedin for awhile, and that night decided to do a tour of the Speights Brewery. Speights is one of 3 or 4 major beer companies in NZ (and my favorite). There were 5 of us for the tour, and we were told we would be paired up with 2 random extra people. As luck would have it, we knew them! We got paired with two girls who live in the same dorms as we do back at Waikato university- this coincidence would be one of many that would occur in the next few days. After an hour long tour (and an hour of tasting) we decided to walk down to the city center, known as the Octagon. It is here that we encountered a strange establishment- it was known as “Probably the smallest bar in the Universe”. It consisted of 3 bar stools and 1 bartender- I could outstretch my arms and touch a wall with each hand. After an hour or two there (and 3 kilograms of peanuts), we left and walked back to our hostel, which we picked because it was advertised as having a ‘free ghost’. We didn’t get a glimpse of it, however, and went to sleep.
Visiting the boulders made me realize another thing that had been niggling at the back of my mind for the entire trip- something I had just realized. All of the south island (and you could even say this for all of New Zealand) seems to be run by Karma. The entrance to the boulders was a one dollar payment, put in a box by good will. Some hostels didn’t even have locking doors. People gave you the benefit of the doubt- hitchhikers were common and safe. Trust abounded, and goodwill seemed to ooze from the land. The realization hit me, and made me smile. I like this place.
Within a few hours we had reached Dunedin, which I was told is Gaelic for ‘Edinburgh’. The town is situated on a bay (a peninsula, really), and extremely hilly. In fact, Dunedin has the steepest street in the world- we didn’t have time to visit it, though.
Dunedin is quite an interesting place. It boasts a population of 122,000 people, but a third of them are temporary residents; the university of Otago boasts several thousand students, which are temporary. Many overseas doctors and hospital staff are also temporary, not to mention tourists and travelers that are staying for months at a time. Despite only having 120,000 people, Dunedin is the third largest city in the world. The city limits (from city center) extend 30 kilometers south, and 60 km west and north (the Pacific ocean is to the east). The result is a massive metropolitan area, most of it uninhabited hill or farmland. Dunedin is also New Zealand’s richest city- every bank, insurance company, and major national company began in Dunedin; because it is so rich, it has beautiful cathedrals. Most of these cathedrals were built in the mid 19th century, and are a result of the settling population, which were mostly Scottish. As a result, most of these churches are Anglican or built for the Free Church of Scotland- pardon the lack of knowledge, for I don’t know the history of the latter in the least. As I said before, Dunedin is very hilly- most of it is built on old volcanic formations- as a result, the city was originally divided by a small volcanic ridge, which was carved away decades ago. The result of the carving is that an entire street was left up 30 feet in the air- a special staircase had to be built to allow access to it.
One last thing that I found quite interesting in Dunedin was the graffiti- most population centers in NZ, even pretty small ones, have a problem with graffiti, but Dunedin is different. Dunedin has a good deal of graffiti, but much of it is creative, positive, beautiful, or even funny. Walking across the city, I noticed certain themes, certain graffiti characters reappearing. One (which I sadly didn’t capture on film) was a very simply drawn giraffe- it was only a yellow head with dots- I saw this critter everywhere- in alleyways, peeking out of windows, in small, hidden and otherwise forgotten spaces. Sometimes the giraffe was happy- sometimes sad, sometimes inquisitive. Other areas of town were tagged by an artist known only as ‘Jester’- his stencil, Banksy-style work was captivating and though provoking (if you don’t know who Banksy is, I highly suggest you look up his work). Dunedin also has commissioned some professional graffiti work on some public areas that otherwise would be boring, concrete and unsightly. Dunedin takes an attitude towards this cultural urban phenomenon that I have not seen before, and I loved it.
So, we walked around Dunedin for awhile, and that night decided to do a tour of the Speights Brewery. Speights is one of 3 or 4 major beer companies in NZ (and my favorite). There were 5 of us for the tour, and we were told we would be paired up with 2 random extra people. As luck would have it, we knew them! We got paired with two girls who live in the same dorms as we do back at Waikato university- this coincidence would be one of many that would occur in the next few days. After an hour long tour (and an hour of tasting) we decided to walk down to the city center, known as the Octagon. It is here that we encountered a strange establishment- it was known as “Probably the smallest bar in the Universe”. It consisted of 3 bar stools and 1 bartender- I could outstretch my arms and touch a wall with each hand. After an hour or two there (and 3 kilograms of peanuts), we left and walked back to our hostel, which we picked because it was advertised as having a ‘free ghost’. We didn’t get a glimpse of it, however, and went to sleep.
Day 51- Oamaru- the Canadian gets his wish
Our next day involved a short (3 hour) drive to Oamaru. This town was fairly large- I would estimate about 20+ thousand people in the city, though it is incredibly difficult to tell when you are only there for a day. Unlike the other cities, towns and * ahem * villages we had visited, Oamaru had a distinctively European feel. The buildings and courthouses are stone, with columns and fancy engravings. The streets are wide with houses on the hills in English style. It was a nice refresher- after a week of passing through places that seemed to have little or no architectural history, a flair of old Europe was welcome. We walked through botanical gardens, had lunch, and then piled in ‘the space ship’ (our van). We drove up a ridge to a yellow- eyed penguin colony. This is where the title of the post comes in.
Andrew, our resident Canadian, loves penguins. He gets excited when we drive past a penguin crossing road sign (and believe me, there are quite a few). His favorite includes a silhouette of a penguin, with the word ‘penguin’ below it- there is no explanation, no ‘penguin Xing’, or ‘watch for penguins’. It is almost as though the sign was a small contender in a country wide animal matching game. As we drove to the colony (on top of a cliff) I saw the first wild penguin of my life- and it was right in front of us. Andrew was as happy as a kid on Christmas day- he was literally jumping up and down, on the verge of pushing children over the railing in order to get closer to this peculiar bird. We snapped some photos, and the penguin waddled away down the cliff. How it got from the beach up this shear rock wall, we didn’t know. In an instant it was gone.
We spent the next hour or so sitting on the cliff edge, watching the penguins swim up to shore and waddle through the waves to their nests. As soon as they stood up, they would begin to march past the waves in an awkward yet charming fashion. Unfortunately, they were on the surf- we were 80 feet up on a limestone cliff. It began to get cold, and some members began to walk back. Those that stayed (me, Jens and Andrew) were rewarded when another penguin came up even closer than the last, literally within reach of us. We got some pictures, Andrew almost had a heart attack, and before we knew it we were fed up with the cold and on our way back to town. On the way we stopped for a brief tour at a Blue penguin colony- but this one wasn’t free, so not all of us went. It turned out the tour was an hour long- those that didn’t attend read newspapers to catch up on current events (of which there were quite a few- North Korea, UK terrorists, Pirates, and Fiji’s new dictatorship). We finally returned to the hostel (over 100 years old), made dinner, and soon went to bed.
Andrew, our resident Canadian, loves penguins. He gets excited when we drive past a penguin crossing road sign (and believe me, there are quite a few). His favorite includes a silhouette of a penguin, with the word ‘penguin’ below it- there is no explanation, no ‘penguin Xing’, or ‘watch for penguins’. It is almost as though the sign was a small contender in a country wide animal matching game. As we drove to the colony (on top of a cliff) I saw the first wild penguin of my life- and it was right in front of us. Andrew was as happy as a kid on Christmas day- he was literally jumping up and down, on the verge of pushing children over the railing in order to get closer to this peculiar bird. We snapped some photos, and the penguin waddled away down the cliff. How it got from the beach up this shear rock wall, we didn’t know. In an instant it was gone.
We spent the next hour or so sitting on the cliff edge, watching the penguins swim up to shore and waddle through the waves to their nests. As soon as they stood up, they would begin to march past the waves in an awkward yet charming fashion. Unfortunately, they were on the surf- we were 80 feet up on a limestone cliff. It began to get cold, and some members began to walk back. Those that stayed (me, Jens and Andrew) were rewarded when another penguin came up even closer than the last, literally within reach of us. We got some pictures, Andrew almost had a heart attack, and before we knew it we were fed up with the cold and on our way back to town. On the way we stopped for a brief tour at a Blue penguin colony- but this one wasn’t free, so not all of us went. It turned out the tour was an hour long- those that didn’t attend read newspapers to catch up on current events (of which there were quite a few- North Korea, UK terrorists, Pirates, and Fiji’s new dictatorship). We finally returned to the hostel (over 100 years old), made dinner, and soon went to bed.
Day 49- Kickin’ back in Kaikoura
We woke up the next morning with no definite plans for the day- we had to stay in town until the next day (as Jens wanted to swim with dolphins the next morning), so we decided to go walk along the peninsula. We completed the walk over grassy farmland (heading straight into the sea via limestone cliffs) in a few hours, and walked back to see seals on the shore. These walks are immensely enjoyable- each one is different, and they all promise to be interesting with great sights. This walk was no different- we ended up with views of the surrounding mountain ranges and the brilliant blue water crashing over limestone formations. According to a geologist friend of mine, all of New Zealand is marine sediment, meaning it was all originally ocean that got uplifted over time above sea level. Unlike Hawaii, which is volcanically raised (and thus made of igneous rock I presume), New Zealand has these sedimentary deposits everywhere- which is why limestone prevails and makes such cool shapes and arches as it erodes. This leads to dynamic shifting coastlines that are a wonder to behold- it is one of the keys to the beauty of the country, I would wager. After this small trip, we returned and had a few hours to kill. We decided to split up and do whatever we wanted. I decided to go visit the shops, and had a few good conversations with locals, but didn’t purchase anything. We spent the evening relaxing, but unlike our other stops we didn’t meet anyone interesting to have a conversation with. We slept in and slept well.
Day 48- On the road again
We woke up the next day, checked out, and got on the road, heading for a town on the East coast called Kaikoura. I don’t know what the entire name means, but I know ‘Kai’ is Maori for ‘food,’ and the place has a legend attached to it- it is where a Maori demigod anchored his foot to catch a whale in the sea. Before we began our drive, we headed to an area called Waikoropupu springs. These springs boast the clearest freshwater in the world (supposedly). Looking in, I would believe the claims; it looked as though there was but a thin film of glass over the bottom, and nothing more. Everything was completely clear and detailed- it made a fine morning stop.
The rest of the day was again driving. We arrived in Kaikoura in late afternoon, just in time to check into our Backpacker lodge and see the sun set between the snowcapped mountains, the first snow we had seen since the glacier. It was a glorious sight- to make it better, we sat outside in the free spa after dinner and stared at the magnificent mountains as the full moon rose and illuminated the snow.
The rest of the day was again driving. We arrived in Kaikoura in late afternoon, just in time to check into our Backpacker lodge and see the sun set between the snowcapped mountains, the first snow we had seen since the glacier. It was a glorious sight- to make it better, we sat outside in the free spa after dinner and stared at the magnificent mountains as the full moon rose and illuminated the snow.
Day 47- Abel Tasman
The next day we decided to hike part of Abel Tasman National Park. The area where Abel Tasman is located is known as the Golden Bay. It has clear, blue water and orange/yellow sand that looks like it is out of a postcard. We began our hike up the wooded hills, and eventually hit a sheltered cove filled with beautiful sand. This was the most beautiful place I had seen yet in New Zealand (see the trend of increasing beauty?). We started walking along the beach to where the trail picked up again, and I was struck by something. There was only one other pair of footprints in the sand. It was a beautiful April day in an astonishing natural park, and we seemed to be the only ones enjoying it. We sat down in this locale and enjoyed our lunch, then continued on. We continued on this pattern of beach, hills, beach, hills. On the coast I felt like I was in a pirate movie- in the jungle-esqe wooded hills I felt like I was either in Jurassic park, Indiana Jones, or Lord of the rings (take your pick). Jens, our well traveled German friend, pointed out areas that looked like different parts of Europe. Throughout our day walk, we tallied up areas that reminded us of different places- the Caribbean, the Appalachians, the jungle, and the Mediterranean. We returned to our hostel and made dinner- which was a step up from our meal the day before, and way above our first pitiful night, hoarding our free soup. We met a few people this second night at Shambala- 2 women from England and Argentina, 2 more from Spain and France, and a man and woman from Switzerland and England, respectively. Me and the other 2 guys traveling with me went down the street and got a homemade beer that evening (which was amazing) and talked to some of these people for the rest of the night.
Day 46- Truman Track and heading north
The next day we woke up and decided again to head north to try and reach Abel Tasman, our proposed destination for the day before. By advice of the nameless Canadian before, we decided to stop at another point of interest known as Truman Track, which is a better-known coastal cove area. After this mini excursion, we began our excruciatingly long drive north- there is no way that the trip could have been made in one day. During the drive we began to see another subtle change in scenery- the mountains began to get a little dryer. The skies opened up a bit, and the rain ceased to follow us. We got to our backpacker, after a 2km drive through private dirt road that was surrounded by serene farmland that looked like the shire. Our stop: Shambala.
This backpacker lodge is as self sufficient as it could be: It gets all electricity from solar power, all water from rain collection, and all heat from a wood stove. The hostel was beautiful, serene, and trusting- the doors had no locks. The view was astounding- a clear, unobstructed view from the private balcony did not go wasted. The best part was the price- though this was one of the more expensive hostels we stayed at, it still was only $29 NZD a night- that is $15 USD. For a place with these amenities back home, I don’t know how much it would cost, but it wouldn’t be cheap. We spent the evening exploring the coastline and collecting shells. It was overall a fairly uneventful day. Interesting finds on the coast: Tons of cool shells, a small inlet to the river, which we waded across, a destroyed dock, limestone outcrops that looked as though they would eventually become caves, and peculiar rock spirals in the sand, most likely due to erosion. Combined with the atmosphere of the Shambala, it seemed almost mystical.
This backpacker lodge is as self sufficient as it could be: It gets all electricity from solar power, all water from rain collection, and all heat from a wood stove. The hostel was beautiful, serene, and trusting- the doors had no locks. The view was astounding- a clear, unobstructed view from the private balcony did not go wasted. The best part was the price- though this was one of the more expensive hostels we stayed at, it still was only $29 NZD a night- that is $15 USD. For a place with these amenities back home, I don’t know how much it would cost, but it wouldn’t be cheap. We spent the evening exploring the coastline and collecting shells. It was overall a fairly uneventful day. Interesting finds on the coast: Tons of cool shells, a small inlet to the river, which we waded across, a destroyed dock, limestone outcrops that looked as though they would eventually become caves, and peculiar rock spirals in the sand, most likely due to erosion. Combined with the atmosphere of the Shambala, it seemed almost mystical.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Day 45- Movin’ on up- to the West Coast
The next day, we bade farewell to our Backpacker Lodge, to Monique, and to our free soup, and headed north up the West Coast. Our aim was to head to Abel Tasman (at the tip top of the South Island) and relax for a few days. After a few hours of driving, we stopped for a rest in a (very) small place called Ross. It was once we had gotten out that Kristen, one member of our roving party, remembered something. “Wait! Steve lives here! We need to find a jade shop!” Turns out that a friend of hers had come here a year before and bought jade from the only jade craftsman in the town. We quickly found him by the massive chained goat outside his shop (I guess the ‘Jade’ sign in front of the shop might have helped as well). He told us everything there was to know about jade- how to tell if it’s fake, how to decide what is a good purchase and what is overpriced, and (of course) what the symbols they are carved into mean. Jade (and bone) pendants are worn quite commonly here in New Zealand- there are several shapes meaning several different things (I won’t go into detail here). When we were at polyfest in Auckland, all of the Maori Kapa Haka groups had pendants, as do all of my friends from New Zealand. I inquired about them, and the significance of jade (AKA greenstone). Apparently, you are not supposed to get a pendant for yourself- they must be given to you. Often, they are blessed (though it doesn’t have to be by a Maori person). It is something that is worn with pride- and I stood with rapt attention as all of this was being explained to me. We spent a few minutes with Steve from Ross, then went on our way. We quickly discovered that the windy mountain roads are too long to allow the trip in one day, however, and after 4 or 5 hours of driving, we decided to stop at a place called Punakaiki.
Punakaiki is right on the shore- and it makes Franz Joseph look like New York City. It has no gas station, no grocery store, no nothing. It has 2 cafes, and some lodges, and that is it in terms of human amenities. What it lacks in these, however, it more than makes up for in natural beauty. Punakaiki is located near a national park, though that is no surprise. National parks cover so much of the south island that it is a wonder that any place can be more than an hour’s drive away from one.
We got into our lodge and set about exploring. The area looked like southeast Asia, according to a traveling friend of ours who had been there. Again, rainforest coated mountains went straight into the sea. We walked along the beach, and found rocks of all shapes, sizes, and colors. We decided within 5 minutes that we should all quit school and gather pretty stones to sell to tourists- you couldn’t walk 3 steps without finding a stone that caught your eye. Along the beach were rock formations jutting out of the water- they looked almost like ships about to set sail, their tops cloaked in greenery. I walked to the end of the beach to one of these pillars, and marveled at it- beaches back home don’t have this. Hell, it’s flat for hundreds of miles from the coast where I live; this sight was incredible, unreal, and unbelievable.
To complete the picture, I walked past a ridge falling into the ocean, and came upon… heaven. Beyond this ridge was a private bay- no houses, people, no nothing. It was surrounded by limestone walls coated in trees and shrubs, and had a supreme view of the sunset. Unfortunately for me, it was only mine for a small while- within minutes the German guy in our group (his name is Jens) ran into the bay with a large stick, planted it in the sand, and claimed the land for himself. I was now standing on private property- the diminutive kingdom of Jensland.
I don’t think I have ever seen a place so beautiful as this (similar to when we drove through the mountains). The sun was perfectly tilted in the late afternoon sky- the area was peaceful, serene and secluded. And once again, there were no people. Back home, even ugly beaches are surrounded by beach homes, bars, surf shops and fast food joints. Here, there is nothing. There are abounding rivers, and beautiful seas; pristine coastlines and ecologies that make a biology major want to work here forever, and it is empty. I felt truly blessed.
We got back for dinner, and made a simple pasta meal (a step up from the free soup we had been living off the past two days). One thing that I love about these places is that at dinnertime, you meet people from all countries and walks of life. The kitchen becomes alive with strange aromas and languages both familiar and foreign. It really is the heart of the hostel. At dinner we met another Canadian (Andrew kept getting lucky) who told us all of the cool places to go on our second week of the trip. Turns out he had pretty darn good advice.
Day 44- Ice, Ice, everywhere
The next day we headed to Franz Joseph Glacier to do a half day hike. We loaded our gear and went to our location, where we would hike to a riverbed and follow the icemelt to the glacier. In order to do this, however, we had to hike through rainforest. Interestingly enough, in this dense area of wood, the clearest paths were on creeks. We climbed creeks up the side of hills until we had cleared an icemelt river below, and then walked the extra kilometer across the stones to the Glacier itself.
Glaciers are interesting phenomena of nature- snow builds at the top of a mountain range, and gets packed until it becomes ice- it slides down the side of the mountain, creating crevasses in it as it goes. Think of it as a giant frozen river, hundreds (if not thousands) of feet thick, moving at the astonishing rate of 5 feet a day. This means that every few days, new paths may need to be carved in the glacier to accommodate the new shifting of the ice.
As we ascended above the valley floor on a staircase carved into the ice wall, we began to see how large this behemoth truly was- it stretched on as far as the dense misty air would allow us to see. The rain gave the ice a deep blue sheen, and kept it smooth and reflective- it was really quite breathtaking, not counting the loss of feelings in limbs.
As we reached the pinnacle of our journey up this insultingly large slab of ice, I saw something that I really didn’t expect to: a parrot. To be precise, it wasn’t just any parrot, but a Kea (or Kia), the world’s only alpine parrot. It was a dark brown color, with red wings that were tucked away and invisible as it sat on the ice. It stared us down, and seemed to take a liking to me. As I was in a staring contest with this strange feat of the ornithological world, our guide mentioned that the Kea is a very smart animal. It will find the backpacks of hikers, undo the clips with its beak, grab the lunchbox, open it, and help itself to the tasty morsels inside. My personal theory is that if a bird can open a lunchbox and get to my midday meal, it deserves it. Anyway, as the Kea eventually flew away (displaying those beautiful red feathers) we began our descent. It is here that I got ambushed, even if only verbally.
A Kea. (This one is my photograph)
I have a friend named Andrew from Canada- and I never let him forget it. I poke fun at him all the time for being Canadian, for no good reason. He knows it is a joke, and he goes at me too, but he is normally outnumbered. Well here, on this slab of ice (where else?) he found another Canadian named Monique, and the tables quickly turned. On the way down I was ganged up upon- the jokes came so fast that I couldn’t keep up- and we all quickly began to like this new Canadian. We ended up hanging out with her for the rest of the afternoon. That night we went to the (only) bar in town and played some free pool, and saw whom else but that group of Americans from Castle hill. It really is a small world (in New Zealand). Turns out they know some of the Americans at our University in Hamilton as well.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Day 43- Saturday: Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Rohan
Please pardon the delay on this- actually, the writing isn't what took me so long: the pictures are. The loading has been super annoying. Enjoy, won't you?
Also, about the map. Every light red section is the travel for the day; the maroon is the travel so far on the trip. Light red circles are where we stopped for the night.
The past 2 weeks have been one of indescribable surprise and adventure. This promises to be a ridiculously long post, so grab a pot of coffee, put on your comfy slippers, and settle in- it’s going to be a long winter’s tale.
This was Day 1 of our actual journey around South island. We had flown into Christchurch the day before, as was detailed in my last post. After waking up and leaving what we began to affectionately call ‘home base’, we fueled up on petrol and hit the road. As we were about to leave the city (of 360,000, the largest population center on the entire island), we came to a thought. We wanted to hike glaciers more than anything, but they were last on our list. Chances were that if we hit any delays we would end up without enough time to hit the glaciers; so, on the verge of leaving town, we made a simple plan amendment- we turned left instead of right. By making this choice, we now switched our entire route for the first week on its head- our first stop was now our last, and vice versa. What did this mean for us? It meant we were to drive through the heart of the mountains, straight through the South Island.
And what a drive it was. Imagine driving on a straight road, with plains on either side of you. Everything is flat, except for the massive byproducts of geological uplift in front of you. You are staring at the Southern Alps, a formidable mountain range that spans most of the South island. Those that live near the Rockies would look upon these peaks and barely gaze- they are not as large as that good ol’ mountain range back home- however, they are much larger than the Appalachians, and desolate. These mountains have almost no growth on them. The reason for this is something that is known as the ‘rain shadow effect’.
The rain shadow effect is a weather phenomenon that actually is very simple. As moisture comes in from the sea (or anywhere) and meets a mountain, it does one thing: rise. As the moist air rises, it cools (higher heights = cooler air, of course). Cooler air holds less moisture than warmer air, so it begins to condense and form clouds. The scientific term for this (if anyone cares) is adiabatic cooling. If the mountains aren’t very high, these clouds will condense but can get over the peaks. If the mountains are high enough, however, the clouds will continue to rise to try and get over the peak, until the air can no longer hold the moisture, and it precipitates. The Southern Alps are in this second category- the result is immense amounts of rain on one side, and perpetual dryness on the other. We were just entering in on the dry side of the range.
We began our journey through the mountains, and immediately were hit by a few things:
1. They were empty. There were no houses, no hotels, McDonalds, bathrooms, or stores. We would have to drive through the entire mountain range before we even hit a gas station.
2. Technology stopped. Cell phone, radio, all reception stopped. In North Carolina at least, most mountains have radio towers to transmit cell, TV and radio signals to mountain towns. This is not the case in New Zealand. I would find as the week went on that cell service would be a luxury.
3. Everything was smaller here. The highway we were driving on was a main road, but it was only one lane either way. This was a shock, even though I had been in New Zealand over 6 weeks. This main highway was literally as wide as my neighborhood street back home! As we passed through the mountains we would later find that most bridges were only one lane- one side had to yield to the other. Occasionally, these one lane bridges not only accommodated 2 opposing lanes of traffic, but also the trains- it is the first time that I can remember driving on train tracks, thinking ‘oh God, oh God, please don’t let there be a freighter on the other end of this bridge’.
After a few minutes of driving, the car had become quiet. The wisecracks and small talk that had possessed us as we were heading to the hills had ceased to exist. The only word uttered out of our mouths for about 3 hours was simply ‘wow’. I will not attempt to convey here the beauty that beheld us- nothing can. Pictures fall short- video is insufficient. Words are pitifully weak in this field as well. All I can say is, well, wow. I was naïve on that first day- I thought that this would be the most beautiful part of the trip.
A few hour into the mountain pass (known as Arthur’s pass, though I don’t know why they even bothered to name it, as it is basically the only pass through the Southern Alps), we got sick of not stopping to catch fantastic views of mineral lakes so blue they looked fake- we decided to take a small pit stop and catch some sights. We were making good time, after all, and hey, that is what we were here for in the first place. We pulled off at the last moment into a place called castle hill. Boy, did we choose well.
Castle hill, or castle rocks (depending on what map you use) is a limestone outcrop in the middle of a mass of mountain peaks. This picture is but a small representation of everything there- the place was wonderful- I wish we could have stayed for an entire day. The area is a series of large limestone formations, some of which are the size of boulders, some of which are much larger. Inside many of these (or in between the) rocks are tunnels that run between them, allowing easy access through seemingly impassible areas.
The closest thing I can relate this place to is Rohan from Lord of the Rings. I know I have said it before, but I will once again defend my claim that these movies are some of the best ways to get to know the geology of New Zealand. The most accurate representation is in movie 2 where Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli are chasing after the orcs carrying the hobbits. As much as it makes me cringe to make these comparisons (believe it or not, I did NOT come here to see where the films were shot), they are precise and do give the reader a good idea of what these areas look like.
On these rocks we met a pair of Germans and a few Americans- the Americans were heading the same place we were- Franz Joseph Glacier. We exchanged pleasantries and went on our way.
After another few hours, we noticed more vegetation on the hills and countryside- the area must get more rain. We saw a gradual, and then a very sudden change into a very wet environment. As we rounded a mountain, we essentially had our entire panoramic view changed in an instant. The mountains went from dry and desolate to alive and very, very wet. Waterfalls began to appear- and as we drove into the western side of the mountains, we began to hit clouds. The skies quickly turned from bright blue to overcast. The scene had changed totally- we had gone from scrub mountain range to rain forest in minutes.
When we arrived in Franz Joseph in the late afternoon, we had a look around town before arriving at our backpacker’s lodge. What we encountered was a town of about 300 people. It was really more of a village than a town- there was one gas station and half of a supermarket- there wasn’t a police station, fire house, library, courthouse, or anything else that one might think important in a town of any respectable size. The person who made and delivered pizza in town also was in charge of the Internet café and the town’s laundry services. All in all, the town was charming. It was also situated in the middle of the rainforest.
New Zealand has rain forests, but they are not what most people think. These are temperate rain forests- they aren’t tropical, but boast a wide variety of flora and fauna. Rain is a certainty, as you can imagine. It rained every moment we were there, but it was still beautiful. The mountains were continuously capped in clouds, so their true height could never be determined. They were majestic and mysterious- in a word, captivating.
As soon as we got out of the car, I heard the most beautiful bird call in my life. I would hear it quite often whenever we went into the bush in the next week. We got our accommodation, and went into our room. As we got there, we realized something strange- above our room was the sign ‘fire exit’. Peculiar, I thought. Turns out that our room WAS a fire exit- the sign in the room labeled the main exit out the front door. The secondary exit? The window. We were on the second floor.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Day 42- the answer to all of life
Alright, so maybe I lied about that title there. But seriously, it drew you in, right? Anyway, as you can see, I have internet access. Why is that? Well, pull up a chair and get a cup of coffee. I have a story to tell.
So, today we drove up to Auckland to get our flight to Christchurch, for our trip to the south island. Our ride was a New Zealander named Simon, who claims to wayward foreigners that he is half hobbit, and he has the car to prove it. Imagine a jalopy- wait, no, a smart car- no, even better yet: a clown car. That is how it seemed, at least. We stuffed in, and drove up to Auckland, listening to (what else) several CD's of elevator music that Simon had in his car. After we got at the airport, we checked in (easy process, everyone was quite nice) and had a short 90 minute flight to Christchurch. Seeing the mountains from the air was breathtaking- the peaks are so forboding, but at the same time challenging and welcoming. It is almost as if they are saying: "I have been here for eons, waiting for you. Climb me!"
This is a breathtaking feeling indeed. Upon landing, we got a rental car we had booked prior and drove to downtown Christchurch for a place to stay. We ended up at the university of Canterbury, which is a very nice place- large trees and really modern looking buildings everywhere. It is very appealing to the eye. Now, here is where the story gets strange.
We meet a guy in a black t-shirt and jeans. I didn't know where we were staying (I hadn't arranged, it, one of the 3 people I was with did, Kristen). We say hi to this guy, who is set up to meet us here; he introduces himself as Josh. I had obviously never met him before; neither had Kristen. Josh is a friend of one of Kristen's friends- someone we had never known. He decided to let us have full use of his flat for the next two weeks, as we pleased. We get up the the flat; it is post modern and boasts floor to ceiling glass walls, and this is on campus accomodation, mind you. It is clean and beautiful looking. We get in, and Josh shows us around. He offers us his room, his bed, with extra bedding and pillows for everyone- he even leaves us a bar of chocolate. He offers us the food in his fridge, the use of the shower, dryer, and everything. I honestly began to wonder if the guy really lived here, or was just letting us use someone else's place. We had known him literally a half hour, and he gives us the keys. He gave us everything.
Once we got over the shock of the utter unbelievability of the hospitality of this person, we got to exchanging pleasantries. We each say where we are from, and I tell him I am from North Carolina. He brightens up, and tells me he goes to school in N.C. I ask where, and where does he list, but Wake Forest University.
Here I am, thousands of miles away from home in the South Pacific, literally on the other side of the world- and I meet a guy who goes to school in my hometown! I really can't get over this fact. I start throwing out names, and it turns out he knows several people I know, including Professor Whaples, head of the Econ department (and father of Nina Whaples)! I literally am writing on the computer of a Wake Forest Student, telling you all back home (some of you at WFU) about my stay in New Zealand. Fate is not without a sense of irony.
So, Christchurch basically rocks. The city reminds me of Wilmington, Charelston, and about 3 cities here in New Zealand all mixed to one. The beach itself was phenomenal (as usual) and full of really interesting and unique rock formations. I had a blast.
Tomorrow we are driving through the heart of the south island to Fox Glacier. If I have the option I will update when I can.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
The past 2 weeks, and the next 2 to come
Alright, so the past 2 weeks have been a whirlwind. I was sick as a dog with a cold, and then had 4 very major assignments due. I just finished the last one last night. Why the rush? Mid semester break starts today, and I am going to be spending 17 days in the South Island of New Zealand. I find the North island astonishingly beautiful, but apparently it is nothing compared. People keep telling me I'll never come back to uni, because I won't want to. I am totally psyched.
Because me and my friends will be constantly on the move for the 2+ weeks, Internet will be spotty. It is possible you will see no updates from me during this time, and if that is the case, I apologize. I will, however, be writing daily in a journal, and will be able to put all of that up here when I return. I'll also be bringing my camera, so photos will abound.
Again, sorry for the hiatus, but expect a regular daily update once I return again!
Because me and my friends will be constantly on the move for the 2+ weeks, Internet will be spotty. It is possible you will see no updates from me during this time, and if that is the case, I apologize. I will, however, be writing daily in a journal, and will be able to put all of that up here when I return. I'll also be bringing my camera, so photos will abound.
Again, sorry for the hiatus, but expect a regular daily update once I return again!
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