Farewell, New Zealand, Hello (and Goodbye) Australia

(sung) "AAAAAHHHH!"

When I saw the Sydney Opera House from afar, all I could think of was the operatic belt depicted in "Finding Nemo." But I'm getting ahead of things...

On January 4th, I got to Christchurch and pretty much broke all of the rules I had set for myself and so faithfully adhered to over the last month: I bought clothes. I picked up more books. I ate at an Americanized, super touristy pseudo-Mexican restaurant, and paid $26 for a sub-par burrito. I even bought a very overpriced margarita. But I was so happy to finally be rid of my plague funk and out and about again, I didn't even care.

Christchurch was a bit of a ghost town while I was there, due to both New Year's holiday closings and destruction from the earthquake in September. They've had over 1000 aftershocks since then, and there were two during my stay (neither of which I felt due to my extensively-documented obliviousness and heavy sleeping tendencies). Christchurch wasn't a complete bust, though. I stayed at Kiwi Basecamp, which had friendly service and FREE fresh-baked bread every morning, and I had a great dinner with Genevieve, an American from California, and spent a very pleasant day and evening with the darkly-witty Catherine from Auckland. The worst thing about traveling is meeting people for a short day whom you wish you could get to know over years. Two shining examples, here.

From Christchurch, I took a day trip to Kaikoura (pronounced "Ky-kota" by the Maori), intent on swimming with dolphins, as enthusiastically prescribed by Joy. Sadly, this was not in the cards; the water was insanely rocky, and my main sightseeing activity ended up being watching almost everyone on the boat vomit miserably into buckets. Silver lining: turns out, I don't get seasick! Actually, the REAL silver lining was that I did get to see wild dolphins, up close and personal, doing their jubilant wild dolphin thing. It was pretty cool. Observe:

After a brief stay back in Auckland (more good times with Cat), it was bye-bye, New Zealand. It was sad to wave farewell to my Kiwi paradise, and I'll admit that I'm already plotting ways to get back there, for longer. But this time, I was headed for Hong Kong, though it took me quite a long time to actually get there.

My layover in Sydney was more lively than expected. In the day and a half I had to check it out, I stayed in a ridiculously huge YHA that had a freaking pool and arcade, and I again met up with Leanne, who has bravely decided to quit her job in the UK and remain in Australia for a year, and her friend, Rhi, at the Sydney Festival in Hyde Park. It was extremely hot out, and while savoring ice cream from one of the stalls and watching a silent movie on the projection screen, we were accosted by these strange birds:

They've got the mentality of NYC pigeons or Ann Arbor squirrels, but seemed way more awesome because of their weird appearance and the fact that I only had to deal with one afternoon of shooing them away. Later, we ambled through the streets and around the harbor, stopping only for beer and macarons. Ah, macarons! Thank you, Abra, for introducing me to these colorful, luscious treats. My life hasn't been the same since. Sydney reminded me of New York (or at least Midtown) like no place ever has. Made me feel a bit cozy in an ultra-commercial, slightly-uncomfortable way. I spent the second day exploring the city on foot, and then it was back to the airport.

Since leaving Australia, I've been in a layover-filled haze, stumbling around Malaysian airports and peeling contacts from bloodshot eyes. I'm now in Hong Kong (my first taste of Asia), and have been in a constant, blissful food coma since my arrival. But more on that later...

Kepler Track

My three-day tramp on the Kepler Track in the southwest (Fiordland) ended on New Year's Eve. It reminded me a lot of Mount Washington, actually: the first and last days wound up and down through dense, mossy forest abundant with ferns, and the middle day was spent picking our way along the Forest Burn Saddle and a long, narrow alpine ridge with heart-stopping views at the top of the Kepler mountains, summitting Mt. Luxmore in the process.

It was supposed to rain and didn't, but during pretty much the entire trek across the exposed passage, we were hit with 100k winds. Sometimes we could barely stand and as the wind caught my pack, I was sure I was about to be catapulted off the mountain into the rocks below. I loved it; it often felt like I was the last person on earth--just me against the elements. Actually, I loved the eerie, haunted feeling of Fiordland altogether and wish I'd had more time there to do the Routeburn and other tracks as well.

Oren from Israel (on the left) was leaving my hostel for the Kepler at the same time, so we agreed to walk to the start at the control gates together (45 minutes out of town). We ended up sticking together for the whole three days and Oren tried to scare me with stories of his friends' legs getting crushed while hiking in South America. A former soldier, he also properly adjusted my pack so that it stopped hurting all the time. I was convinced my new backpack just sucked or didn't fit me right (it adjusts differently than my other pack), but, to absolutely no one's surprise, I was just stubbornly doing it wrong.

At the Luxmore hut, we met more Israelis, and Nadav, Gal, and company taught me a card game called "Yaniv" (spelling?) that I'm obsessed with, even though I always get too excited to play my cards and therefore lose. I now also have several willing guides while I'm in Tel Aviv. Yes!

I didn't chance on a kiwi sighting (sorry, Mom)--unsurprising since the birds for which New Zealanders are named are nocturnal, shy creatures--but we did spot some curious fantails along the track, and several people we met had seen Kea parrots (I wasn't so lucky).

Apart from the Kepler hike, the last week has been pretty quiet. I returned from the Kepler quite sick and stayed in Te Anau for several days to recoup. New Year's was a bust--there was a great live cover band playing in the park right outside the hostel (CCR! Joan Jett!) and fireworks at midnight, but I was feeling too rotten to leave my bed. As 2011 arrived in the Southern Hemisphere, I toasted with my dad on Facebook with a sip of beer and sudafed. I ended up cancelling my kayaking trip to Milford Sound and being a total hermit in my hostel in Queenstown, too. Man, this is sounding really depressing as I write it! But it honestly hasn't felt that way (at least not most of the time). Of course I'm bummed to miss these places since they're two of the best-loved in New Zealand, but I think after a month of moving constantly, recharging my batteries for a bit was definitely the best thing I could've done. I also did a ton of work, which is always a good feeling. I'm still sniffling a bit now that I'm in Christchurch, but I'm back on my feet and exploring happily. Only two more days in NZ. I'll be sad to say goodbye to my kiwi paradise (I swear I'll be back), but I'm certainly looking forward to Asia--and to living more cheaply!

Oh, also, since it appears that even though my backpack is officially carry-on size, no one's ever going to let me take it carry-on, using my Christmas money, I bought this (my first leatherman):

Thanks, Mom and Dad!

Christmas in Wanaka

On Christmas morning, I got up super early to climb Mt. Roy in Wanaka with my friend, Adrian. It was an excellent idea, but we didn't go about it the best way. To put it plainly, we were really, really stupid.

I can only attribute our stupidity to some lingering fuzziness from Sam's birthday bar bonanza the night before, because now when I remember that I set out on a seven hour hike, two and a half hours of which involved summitting a 1600 meter mountain in the blistering ozone-less sun without any sunscreen or much water but with a nalgene full of Jameson hot toddy while in a state of supreme dehydration, I'm still kind of dumbfounded.

The tramp up was BRUTAL. Over two hours of switchbacks that seemed to go straight up and never end. The-top-is-just-around-the-bend syndrome. My calves were screaming, my throat was parched, and I whined the whole way that it was worse than the marathon. It really was. But...

The top had this view:

And the way up and down had these sheep, everywhere:

Totally worth it, and a pretty top-notch way to spend Christmas morning.

When we got back, after making Christmas phone calls home, everyone feasted at our giant hostel barbeque, a bunch of orphans huddled together around sausages, crepes, enchiladas, and fritters. The pie, though slightly undercooked on the bottom because I have yet to truly understand conversions to celsius paired with ovens with settings in Italian, was still quite tasty.

Before leaving Wanaka, I did make it out to Puzzling world. Which was, indeed, puzzling. Got stuck in the maze for over an hour and sprained my brain on all the enigmas, but that's another story...

Regardless, Merry Christmas to all (and to all a good night...)!

Wanaka, Continued

From the moment I arrived in Wanaka, I was in love. For one thing, the sun was shining, which, as you may have gathered, has been a bit of a rarity during my trip. It was windy, but there was glorious blue sky, serious mountains, and a picturesque lake all laid out before me. This first photo is on the bus ride in.

The YHA hostel was also awesome--hands down the best place I have stayed in so far, with clean rooms, homey lounge, a huge kitchen, and a spectacular view. When I saw Sam and Leanne, my friends from Nelson, I knew it was going to be a good Christmas. And when, an hour after arriving, I found a farmer's market a block away with peonies, new potatoes, and sweettart cherries, I was in heaven.












The first night, I joined Sam and Leanne for a movie--Eat Pray Love (yeah, I know, haha...)--at this kitchy little theater called Cinema Paradiso. You sit on old couches and car seats, have dinner half way through at intermission, and bring wine and homemade ice cream on in with you. The way all movie theaters should be! The next day was Christmas Eve and also Sam's birthday, so we celebrated with cake and champagne first thing in the morning.


And then...

I WENT SKYDIVING. My tandem jumper was Adriano from Brazil, and on the way up we chatted and went over instructions. He had a bit of a thick accent, so I was convinced I had misunderstood everything and would jump to my death. I didn't have too much time to get nervous though, because in no time, we were up at the jump site. But as I watched the two people before me nonchalantly topple out of the plane I finally thought...Oh. Shit. Then we were scooching over and I was hyperventilating and my mind went blank and I forgot everything Adriano had told me and I thought he'd count to three or ten or say "Ready" or SOMETHING...but he didn't. He just leaned forward and we fell out of the door of a plane 12,000 feet up and for two whole seconds I thought only:


That's it. I'm going to die now.


And then it didn't even feel like falling. For the rest of the 45 second freefall it just felt like staying in one place with really fast, really cold wind surging up past me. The ground didn't even seem to be getting closer. Then Adriano released the parachute and everything was lovely. Views like I can't describe over Lake Wanaka and Mount Aspiring and Mount Roy. I felt like I could see the whole world. Incredible. Because I am cheap, I didn't spring for the video or disc of pictures, but I do have this supremely awkward photo of me post-jump to share for your viewing pleasure:

When I got back, I made pie (my hands were still shaking from the adrenaline three hours later, and pitting cherries was a hilarious task), and then we got a big group together to go out for Sam's birthday. Great to meet so many people from so many different places. My friends here are American, British, German, and French. Fast travel also promotes fast friendships. What a great group to spend the holidays with!

Franz Joseph Glacier

For the trip down to the glaciers, I joined up with Greg from Connecticut and Jason from California. I'd met Greg while we were both drenched in Abel Tasman, and Jason was coming from weeks of surfing in Raglan when we chatted him up on the bus.

We had hoped to join a group to hike up on the Franz Joseph Glacier, but alas, more rain. Instead, we decided to take a self-guided walk as close as we could get to it, which was around 1500 feet away because of the flooding and probability of river surges.

The walk to the glacier--around 5k--was pretty amazing itself. We crossed this dire-looking river of gray, surging water, with huge chunks of the glacier floating on by us. We each stuck a hand in to test it. Cold enough to kill you within a few minutes. We walked through a rainforest along the highway. Crazy.

And then...there it was. Even in the rain, even so far away, even having receded a crazy amount in the last 100 years, the thing left all of us speechless. Well, okay, we all said, "woahhhhhh." Truly magestic and huge and a shattering testiment to how miniscule we humans really are. Franz Joseph glacier is currently receding, and that's in response to the amount of snowfall it received five years ago--which is pretty impressive, considering it takes most glaciers at least 15 years to respond. We hung around for almost an hour just staring at it.

The rain had been big and sloppy, but not unpleasant, just long enough for us to get a good look at the glacier, and seeing we were satisfied, Mother Nature decided to really let loose shortly afterward. It was much colder by the glacier--no tropical downfall like I'd seen in Abel Tasman--and pretty soon the wind really picked up, too. This was probably the most severe weather I've ever been out in. We were completely doubled over against a wicked* headwind, the icy rain needling into our faces. Again, nothing was waterproof.

Miserable, Greg and I ended up hitching** back with a lovely Spanish couple who took pity on us. Jason was more adventurous and kept exploring the trails in the rain. On the way back, we pumped ourselves up with talk of hot showers, a dip in the hot springs, and chucking our wet clothes in the dryer. HA! Instead we got back to the hostel to find the power out, and commiserated with wine and other damp backpackers.

Unfortunately, I couldn't stay another day, and I left Greg and Jason to their own adventures, as I was headed to Wanaka for Christmas. I do wish I could've gotten up on the ice and trudged through those mystical blue caverns, but the view from afar had it's own sort of appeal, and was worth it anyway.

*Wicked? Clearly I've been hanging around the Brits and the Kiwis for too long.

**Don't worry! Hitching, weirdly, is actually really safe and incredibly common in New Zealand. It's usually tourists who pick other tourists up, but Kiwis often oblige, too. Don't think I'd ever do it alone, but with a guy it was easy.
***That last image was of the glacier from the bus as I was leaving.

Wanaka

Longer post later, but just a quick note to say that I am in Wanaka and never want to leave. It really is the most beautiful place on Earth. Went to the farmer's market, just jumped out of an airplane at 12,000 feet, and will be spending Christmas here with Sam and Leanne--the awesome Welsh girls I met in Nelson. Life is good.

Abel Tasman Coastal Track

I've really had some comically bad weather for hiking.

I set out from Nelson for the Abel Tasman Coastal Track on Friday. It's one of the Great Walks, so you have to book the huts ahead of time, and since it's the holidays and the busiest time of year, the two huts that were left were very far apart, and I had to do the track in two and a half days instead of the suggested four. When I heard that it was supposed to rain ALL weekend, I refused to be deterred! After missing the trek in Tongariro, I wasn't going to cave to a bit of drizzle.


The hike began at 9am. The first thing I learned: water resistant is not even close to water proof. I was absolutely drenched within ten minutes. Fortunately, it's summer here, so I was only wet and not cold and wet. And once I was soaked, I didn't mind the rain so much. The whole track was still really beautiful, way up in cliffs and forest along the coast, and because of the rain, I hardly saw anyone else. I've found that I feel a lot less lonely by myself in nature than I do in cities; New York has often felt like the loneliest place in the world, but in the woods I'm fine.

I listened to The Hours and A Single Man soundtracks for part of my seven hour tramp through the downpour, which added a certain drama to the whole endeavor. Phillip Glass can make even squatting to pee feel epic.

I met some wonderful people in the huts--lots of Swiss and Germans and Kiwis--and we played Uno until late into the night (okay, until about nine, when it got dark and we all hit the sack). I also met a really sweet newlywed couple from London who I shared a beer with at an upscale cafe that randomly appeared in the middle of the track--hoping to see them again at Doubtful Sound in January.

The second day was sunny (apparently New Zealand's weather predictions change as regularly as Michigan's) and ideal for hiking. After a few hours out, I had some time to kill so that I could make the river and estuary crossings at low tide (there were four), so I lounged on the beach. After twenty minutes of not seeing a single soul, I swallowed my usual embarrassment and went skinnydipping in Tasman Bay, with penguins and fur seals looking on disapprovingly. Living la vida loca* here! It's known as "the gold coast" because granite deposits turn the sand a rich bright gold (through a process that Emily Elert could probably explain far more clearly than I...).

The wildlife was out in full effect throughout the track. I had bellbirds and warblers singing their little hearts out, I nearly stepped on a possum (an opposum?) that reared back on his hind legs like a tiny bear and hissed at me, and I realized a second too late that I was very near some oyster catchers' babies, which resulted in the parents chasing me out in a flying frenzy, latching onto my backpack and trying to peck me to death. It was straight out of Hitchcock*.

Day two, though sunny, was a super long hiking day (eleven hours), so the ol' legs are really getting the work in before Everest. The last four hours were less fun, mostly because it was on a poorly-marked path through dark forest, and I didn't see another soul the whole time. And the last hour was misery as more storm clouds moved in with the quickly-approaching dusk and I had no idea how much further I had to go. I also started seeing what I believed to be a trail of blood, but which might've been berry juice. Of course I took this to be an ominous sign. If it was in fact blood and not berries (too dark to tell for sure), the sign was probably "Hey! I'm a friendly hiker with a nosebleed who is just ahead of you. Congrats--you're headed in the right direction and we're in this together!" But naturally, I took it instead to mean "Hey! I am a crazed killer who is leaving the blood of my last victim as a warning: you're next!" I felt like Ralph from The Lord of the Flies,* and had horrific visions of a stick sharpened at both ends.


Of course, I did finally make it, never learned the source of the dark fluid, and then hiked out in the rain again this morning. I met a nice American from Connecticut on the bus back, and we might travel together for awhile (would be great to have company), and I'm back in Nelson, blessedly dry and squeaky clean at last.



*Note: When left to their lonesome in the wilderness for a relatively long period of time, I'm sure many people spend their time pondering philosophy and the meaning of life. I seem to instead spend my time meditating on pop culture. Hrm.

**Note #2: All photos taken early in second day during good weather!