A Modern Nomad

Over and Done But Never Forgotten

2007-05-27T21:15:00.000+10:00

As most of you know and as some of you may not know, I have finished my travels and returned home after almost eight months of being on the move. I had my ups and downs, my favorites and not-so-favorites, but I wouldn’t trade any of my experiences abroad for anything. Deciding to take a hiatus from my normal life and travel around the world has been one of the most enriching and rewarding experiences ever. I found a self-reliance I never knew I had, I accomplished activities I never thought I would, I met people I wouldn’t have ordinarily met, and I indulged in cultures I’d only previously read about in books. I believe that everyone should take the opportunity, if possible, to travel and open their hearts and minds to a way of life other than their own. I did what I set out to do, and though my journey is now over, I will carry what I learned with me always. Now it’s on to the next chapter…

I want to thank all of you who kept up with me and my adventures through my blog. Your comments and well-wishes helped me through some rough times and through the good times just knowing you were out there seeing it all through my eyes made me smile. If anyone would like to contact me, feel free to email me at j_sembler@yahoo.com.

Driving, Driving, Driving

2007-05-15T14:51:00.000+10:00

Anthony and I stayed with his friend Shane in Galway for a few days. We went for a ride through the countryside one day that was absolutely beautiful. Ireland really is the greenest place I’ve ever seen. From remote roads all you can see is green for miles. After the weekend, we rented another car from Galway to do a tour of the south of Ireland. This time the car company gave us a brand new VW Golf. I thought car companies usually give you the cheapest cars to rent unless you pay a lot for it, but not in Ireland. When I rented in NZ, they gave me a 1992 Toyota Corolla that had about 100,000 kilometers on it. Old or new, they get me from here to there, but in Ireland I was driving in style. Since I’d already driven a fair bit of Ireland in a manual, I was more confident this time around, but the roads in the south were fairly narrow and windy, and it took a great deal of concentration not to crash into oncoming traffic or the trees on the side.

We first stopped in Ardrahan where Anthony’s aunt and cousins live on a proper Irish farm. After dropping our stuff and enjoying a cup of tea, we left to visit the Cliffs of Moher on the Clare coast. It was supposed to only take an hour to get there, but we went the wrong way from the start and it took a bit longer. Since we arrived late, the visitor center was closed and we didn’t have to pay to view the cliffs; I don’t think you should have to pay to view a natural phenomenon anyhow. To our amusement we also got out of paying for parking. They were charging 8euro just to park, but when we got back from viewing the cliffs a little after 7pm, we saw that the parking attendants had gone home. We stayed with Anthony’s aunt for the night and left stuffed full of Irish breakfast in the morning. On a side note, I absolutely love Irish breakfasts. I can feel my arteries clogging every time I eat them, but I just can’t help myself. I figure I might as well eat as many authentic breakfasts as I can while I’m in Ireland. I’ll get back to my oatmeal when I get home.

Dingle, on the aptly named Dingle Peninsula, was our first destination. It’s only a small town, but very scenic. It took us a good four hours to get there from Ardrahan, and we passed right by the hostel once we got in, but we found it eventually. We took a walk in town, but it was dead with only a scattering of people here and there. Instead of hanging out in town, we bought food to cook dinner and holed up in the hostel for the night. The hostel was a huge old manor house that used to serve as a soup kitchen during the famine. The weather had taken a turn for the worse, so Anthony and I hung out in the common room, lit a fire, and relaxed with a bottle of wine for the night.

The next day we headed for Killarney, but first we drove around the famed Ring of Kerry, which is basically interconnected roads along the Iveragh Peninsula. It was an absolutely stunning drive, albeit a tough one to navigate. I stopped a few times along the way because I was concentrating so hard on the roads that I missed most of the scenery. I thought I had seen beautiful views before, but the Ring of Kerry really is breathtaking. We then made our way to Killarney, the beginning and the end of the loop. That night we went out to a pub to catch a trad session (traditional music). I love listening to Irish music, and I love how informal it usually is – just a few guys with instruments jamming while drinking a pint each. The pub was packed and we seat-hopped until we scored a plush couch, where we set up camp for the night. An Irish band came on after the trad session and played a mix of traditional Irish songs and rock music. They were great and though I was nearly falling asleep, tired after driving for hours, I couldn’t tear myself away from the music and we ended up staying until they finished.

We left for Cork the next morning, and I have to admit that I am not a fan of the place. People rave about how great Cork is, but I didn’t think it was anything special. It was probably due to the circumstances when we arrived; it was pouring buckets, having made no prior reservations we found that the hostels were booked out for the weekend, and the roads were impossible to navigate. The only detailed map we had of the city was in the Let’s Go guide, but even that omits the smaller streets that are essential to know in order to find where you are in the city. After finding the first hostel was booked, we tried to make our way to the second hostel but to no avail. We drove around for over an hour, yelling at each other in the car, until I finally pulled into a spot on the side of the road, and Anthony jumped out to find the hostel on foot. An hour later, he finally came back and told me that he’d been to three hostels, which were also booked. We called our last and final option, and luckily they had beds left. It was a little out of town but better than nothing. By that time it was 4pm and neither of us had eaten anything since breakfast so we went out in search of lunch. We were dead-set on Domino’s, which Anthony had seen on the way to the hostel but couldn’t remember where it was. We ended up getting stuck in the city center for an hour and a half in traffic, moving only an inch every minute. I finally pulled into an illegal spot, and Anthony left to find a Domino’s. He returned after a half hour with Subway. Apparently, the Domino’s had been a mirage. We ate in the car since we couldn’t leave it parked illegally, and then headed back to the hostel. When the rain finally stopped, we set out toward the city to have a look around –I wasn’t very impressed. Ironically, we passed a Domino’s on the way into the city, which we ended up having for dinner since we hadn’t found it earlier that day. We went out for a quiet drink afterward and then headed back to the hostel.

We made our way to Blarney, only 8km away from Cork, the next day to visit the Blarney Castle and stone. We spent a few hours exploring the castle and the grounds and made our way up to the Blarney stone at the top of the castle. It’s really only a small piece of a stone slab that you arch backwards to kiss. Legend has it that if you kiss the stone you’ll never be at a loss for words again. Legend also has it that local boys drunkenly stumble to the stone in the middle of the night and pee on it knowing tourists flock in hordes to kiss it. It had rained heavily the morning that we made our way to the stone so I was hoping that if it were true, at least the pee would have been washed away.

After visiting Blarney, we left for Kilkenny, a quintessential Irish city. I was pleased that we arrived at our hostel and found a parking spot easily. I was hoping Kilkenny wouldn’t be like Cork in the way of driving, and thankfully it wasn’t. We went out in Kilkenny that night with a few people from the hostel. After a few drinks at a local pub, we decided to hit up a nightclub and dance. The first one we entered was a bit too goth and rockerish for my tastes so we left. The next one we came to was charging a cover, and as backpackers, we don’t do covers so we moved on. We turned down another street and entered a club, not initially realizing it was the back entrance to the club we had just tried to go into. The bouncer didn’t stop us and we were pleased that we’d gotten in for free somehow. The place was dead and was playing horrible music so we didn’t stay very long. I was happy we hadn’t paid to get in to only stay for 15 minutes.

On our way back to Galway the next day, we stopped in to visit Anthony’s aunt again before making it back to Shane’s apartment. We dropped the car in the next morning to my delight. I was proud of myself that I had driven all over Ireland on the “wrong” side of the road in a manual car, but I wouldn’t want to do it again anytime soon. I’ll be happy to get back to my automatic when I’m home. Gas go, Brake stop, no clutch needed.

To the North and Back

2007-05-06T16:55:00.000+10:00

I arrived in Northern Ireland last week after finding a cheap Easyjet flight from Glasgow to Belfast. I stayed with my friend Richard’s parents in Antrim for a few days. On my second night, they took me for a coastal drive along the famed Antrim coast through the Glens of Antrim all the way to Portrush. On a clear day you can see across to Scotland, but unfortunately the night we went couldn’t have been any foggier. In fact, on the supposedly most spectacular part of the drive we were actually driving through a cloud and could barely see three feet ahead, let alone miles across to Scotland. I enjoyed the drive regardless and sat taking in the scenic greenery of Northern Ireland.

I spent the next day touring Belfast city. I decided to take one of those big, red sightseeing buses. In every city I visit I always want to take one but they are usually expensive so I opt to walk around myself finding the sights. Everyone recommended that I take a black taxi tour of Belfast but when I contacted the different companies I was told that it would cost 25pounds for one person. I asked to join another group if possible but I was denied. I figured the big red bus would be the next best thing so I bought a ticket,
sat back, and listened to the driver comment on the sights and the history of Belfast. We passed the murals in West Dublin, where most of the troubles of the past culminated, and it was fascinating to see the opposing sides. Though Belfast is in a time of peace at the moment and the troubles are, for the most part over, there is still tension between the two sides and it is most apparent in West Dublin where the Catholic and Protestant areas are divided by 50 foot fences in some places. It’s crazy to think that a westernized country like Northern Ireland isn’t exempt from hostilities
stemming from religion and country loyalties.

The next day I took a bus down to Dublin where I met up with Anthony. Since he was extremely jet-lagged after having flown direct from Australia, I set out on the streets of Dublin on my own for a bit and ventured down the main thoroughfare, O’Connell Street, to take in some city sights. The next day Anthony and I went to the Guinness Storehouse. The storehouse was huge and full of information on everything Guinness but was a little expensive at 14euro. It did, however, include a free pint and I had my first proper pint of Guinness. It’s not my favorite beer in the world and is a bit on the heavy side, but I did enjoy it. We met up with his friend, Paddy, later that day and stayed with him for another night in Dublin before heading north to County Cavan, where Anthony is from.

I spent a few days in Cavan and saw my first Gaelic football match. I’d only ever heard the term Gaelic football but had no idea what it entailed. It seemed to me to be a little bit of every sport thrown together. It’s like rugby, soccer, and American football all rolled into one. I also saw the Shannon Pot, which is where the Shannon River, Ireland’s longest river, rises from the ground. I decided though to rename it the Shannon “Kelly” in honor of one of my dearest friends.

We decided to rent a car for the next few days and head up north. Traveling Ireland by car is by far the most convenient way to see the country but since Anthony doesn’t have a driver’s license, I had to drive. I didn’t mind until I found out that the car rental company didn’t have any automatics. Now I know how to drive manual – it’s what I learned on – but I hadn’t driven a manual in almost six years and not only did I have to drive a manual, but it was on the opposite side of the road. At first I was nervous, but I practiced on his mom’s car to get used to it. The rental company gave us a brand new Toyota Yaris and off we went. It was a little awkward at first but I got the hang of it and drove around Northern Ireland and the north of the Republic for the next three days. It took a little getting used to the serious amount of roundabouts but I was virtually a pro by the time we dropped the car off.

The Giant’s Causeway was our first destination. We made it to Portstewart, where we were staying, in good time and then set out for the natural wonder that is the Giant’s Causeway. Basically, it’s a series of honeycomb-shaped rocks formed through volcanic activity. It looked to me like a rock version of Superman’s home in the original Superman series. It was interesting to see and was an absolutely beautiful day so we spent some time there before heading to the Bushmill’s Distillery. I’m not big on whiskey but it was interesting to learn how it’s made and matured. Like the Guinness tour, this one also came with a free drink but I decided to go for a hot tottie, a delicious blend of whiskey, sugar, and hot water, instead of straight whiskey.

We left Portstewart the next day and headed southwest to County Donegal. We checked into our hostel in Letterkenny and headed out for a drive to see the beautiful countryside that Donegal is known for. We drove for a few hours up to high point overlooking the water and mountains, and then made our way down to a nearby beach and set up camp for a few hours. It was an extremely peaceful afternoon barring the two women, their children and dogs that decided to set up near us. The children screamed the whole time and the dogs ran all over the beach, jumping on me and Anthony a few times. The women finally leashed the dogs to the bumper of their cars after their wet dogs jumped on us for the fourth time and we jumped up yelling.

Since our three-day lease was almost up, we went back down to Sligo to stay with Anthony’s aunt for a night before dropping off the car the next day. We went out to Strandhill, a really picturesque beachfront area, and decided to get impromptu seaweed baths. I’d never had a seaweed bath before but they are supposed to be good for the skin and circulation. I started with a steam and then took the bath. I could barely take the steam room – it was way too hot for me, and my face looked like a tomato when I exited. I was supposed to stay in there for five minutes but I barely lasted four. I think if someone wanted to torture me, all they’d have to do is throw me in a steam room. I’d give up any information they wanted. The bath was too hot for me at first but once I got used to it, it was extremely relaxing and enjoyable. We met up with Anthony’s aunt after our baths, and went out for dinner on the water to soak up the last rays of the day. I have to say that the weather in Ireland has been brilliant. I even had beautiful weather in the UK. Everyone complains about how gray and rainy it is, but luckily I’ve had a different experience.

Anthony and I headed to Galway the next day. We were supposed to meet up with Shane, Anthony’s friend, in the early afternoon but Shane got held up at work so Anthony and I dropped our things off in front of his flat and laid towels on the grass to sunbathe. We had no way of getting into the apartment so we chilled on the lawn for a few hours waiting for Shane. The weather was so nice though that I didn’t mind one bit. Eventually Shane arrived and we all went out for dinner and a fantastic night on the town sampling the best of Galway pubs.

Taking It Easy

2007-04-25T16:39:00.000+10:00

I haven't posted in a while and I probably won't for a while so I just wanted to give you guys a brief update.

After my highlands tour, I returned to Edinburgh for a night. Then I was in Glasgow for two days. It was good fun. I met up with my Scottish friend Lorraine that I met in Australia and we spent a nice day together. I then flew to Northern Ireland where I stayed with my friend Richard's parents in Antrim (right outside of Belfast). They were wonderful and beyond hospitable. I'm a bit under the weather at the moment so sorry for the lack of flair in this post. I'm just too tired to think at the moment. I'll be back posting soon enough though...don't you worry.

Lovely, Lovely Scotland

2007-04-20T21:00:00.000+10:00

I arrived in Edinburgh last week and headed straight out on a hostel-organized pub crawl to experience Scotland’s infamous drinking culture. I had a blast and met a ton of people from the hostel that I ended up hanging out with all week. Events like that are always a great way to meet people especially when you’ve just arrived in a city.

I spent the next few days exploring Edinburgh’s medieval streets. I joined a tour one morning that was really informative, perhaps too informative. The guide gave a full history of Scotland and pointed out many little spots of interest in the city that ordinarily you’d walk right past. I came away knowing much more Scottish history than I’d ever known before. I visited some other sights in Edinburgh, but most I just took pictures of rather than really exploring. Prices here are absolutely ridiculous so I refuse to pay for them. They were charging 11pounds just to enter Edinburgh Castle so I stepped out of line and just took a picture. I’m sure the outside is nicer than the inside anyway.

I signed myself up for a Macbackpackers jump on/jump off tour of Scotland that I left for on Monday. I was happy to join a tour that takes you to major sights and describes them. Sometimes it can be frustrating figuring everything out on my own so I was happy to put myself into more capable hands for a few days. The first day of the tour we stopped in Pitlochry, the Battlefield of Culloden, and a few other places before I was dropped off in Inverness. I think Neil, the guide, might have had a few marbles loose but at least he was highly entertaining, and for the most part, informative, albeit in an unconventional way.

I went on a cruise on the famous Loch Ness while I was in Inverness – it was my main reason for visiting. It turned out to be a beautiful day and I sailed along the lake for three hours passing a few castles and other monuments. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on your view) we had no sightings of the mysterious Loch Ness monster. I was surprised the cruise didn’t really play up the monster card. It’s not like people really come just to see the lake (there are plenty of lakes to see), they come to hear about the monster but the cruise didn’t really pay it much mention. Regardless, it was a relaxing time on the water. That night Michelle, a girl on my tour, and me went out for a drink at Hootananny’s to listen to some traditional Scottish music. I was thinking bagpipes (which in hindsight probably would have blown out our eardrums in a small venue) so I was surprised to see an informal trio seated at a table with a pint each in front of them, playing a guitar, violin, and small drum. Nevertheless, I really enjoyed listening and it was an enjoyable evening.

The next day I rejoined the tour and headed to the Isle of Skye. We were supposed to be picked up from the hostel at 3:30pm, but the guide didn’t show up until 5pm. I was already bored out of my mind and itching to leave Inverness (there isn’t much to do barring cruising the loch) so I was a bit annoyed. We made it to Skye later than expected and I set out with a few people for dinner as soon as we got there. On the way to Skye, we passed the Eilan Donan Castle, which is the most photographed castle in all of Scotland. You may recognize it from one of the Bond films. I don’t know which one, so if you know, let me know.

The following morning we left early for the Isle of Skye day tour. I’m really glad that I signed up for the day tour because it would have been impossible to explore and fully appreciate the island on my own. We stopped in a few small villages for a look around before heading to a river that supposedly imparts youth on those who bathe in it. Jo, the tour guide, had a story for each part of the tour and was bursting with information. At the river she told the story of the Amazonian women of Skye and their leader who in actuality was 265, but only looked to be in her 20’s because she bathed in the river each and every day. We all stuck our faces in as a result. I had a rosy-cheeked glow after, but only because the river was freezing. We went for an hour and a half walk after that up one of the mountains. It was a semi-strenuous walk but the views from the top were absolutely beautiful. We also visited some interesting rock formations and the Fairy Glen, where apparently the fairies of Skye hang out. It was actually a really peaceful place, and while everyone else scrambled up to the top of the glen, I stayed at the bottom and sat quietly in the sun for a while soaking up its sinking rays. It was one of my favorite moments.

On the last day, we left Skye early in the morning and headed back toward Edinburgh. We stopped at a few places along the way including the castle featured in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I’d never seen the movie so it didn’t mean much to me, but Jo came trotting down the path after entering the castle with clapping coconuts. Even though I’d never seen the movie, I saw Spamalot so I knew she was imitating the “horsemen” so it was pretty funny. We also stopped at the William Wallace Monument in Stirling on the way back. The monument was one of the main sights I wanted to see in Scotland. As anyone who knows me knows well, Braveheart is my favorite movie so the William Wallace Monument was a must on my agenda. It’s ridiculously huge and overlooks the city of Stirling. There’s also a stone statue of Mel Gibson as Braveheart at the bottom but funnily enough, it’s caged to prevent vandalism. I guess the Scottish people aren’t too keen on Mel’s version of Wallace. Jo told us the whole history of William Wallace and how he is a hero to the Scottish people. As most people know, Braveheart isn’t really historically accurate but I was disappointed to learn that Wallace was most likely in the priesthood before he started the revolution against the English and hence did not start the war to avenge his murdered love. That’s Hollywood for you but I suppose everyone, including me, likes a good love story.

Just Say No to National Express

2007-04-13T16:19:00.000+10:00

I spent a few days in Manchester, a place I will never return during a Man U home game. My hostel was overrun by loud, animated, and drunk-at-noon (game started at 8pm) Italians out to cause a stir after what happened at last week’s Man U vs. Roma game. I was watching an English soap opera in the TV room with two Australian girls but that was taken over by English fans eager to watch the game and criticize the players, as if they would do better on the field. I ended up watching the game, because really I had no other choice, and Man U won 7-1 disgracing Roma. It wasn’t a very eventful game though; Manchester had effectively won in the first 20 minutes, and the Italians had their asses handed to them.

I went to bed fairly early, around midnight, because I had to be up at 7:15am to take the bus to York the next day. I was rudely awaken at 4am by retardedly drunk Man U fans outside my window singing every tribute song to the players at the top of their lungs. Half of them probably didn’t even know their names at that point but could sing every corny anthem to Ronaldo and Rooney as if it were second nature. This went on for 45 minutes. I was so livid that I was tempted to scream out the window but I’ve learned from experience that telling drunk people to “shut up” only incites them to yell louder so I kept quiet and prayed for rain.

I eventually fell asleep only to be woken by two stumbling roommates as they entered he room replaying the game’s details to each other as if they hadn’t been sitting side by side watching the game. After they fell asleep, or more likely passed out, I was able to get some rest until one’s cell phone went off at regular 4-minute intervals starting at 7am. I tried to wake him at first, but to no avail, so I forcefully (I know I’m terrible) shook his shoulder but he was comatose and didn’t move. I picked up his ringing clothes and threw them away from the bed to stop the phone. I was in no mood to deal with it peacefully; what can I say, I was cranky. Besides all of that, Manchester was ok.

I made my way to the bus station the next morning and was almost refused entry because it was booked out at Leeds. The exceptionally kind bus driver told me to board anyway and see if people didn’t show. Otherwise, I would have had to get off at Leeds and take another bus to York. Luckily there were a few no-shows so I was able to stay on all the way to my destination. I was grateful the bus driver had been so accommodating – few National Express drivers are. Which brings me to my next point – I abhor National Express and buying the Brit Xplorer pass was the worst travel move I’ve ever made. I’d advise anyone against it and urge them to just buy tickets individually because it would be cheaper (I would have saved 100pounds if I did) and you’re guaranteed a seat (which I never was). The Brit Xplorer passes are huge scams and not worthwhile unless you plan on taking a bus every single day, but of course they don’t write that on the website so it sounds like a good deal.

I only had a day in York so I just walked around taking in the sights. York is a quintessential medieval English town complete with cobbled sidewalks and old-style buildings. I ventured over to the imposing York Minster, the town’s cathedral, and rather than going in (I’ve seen cathedrals before) just took a few pictures from the outside. The rest of the day I wandered aimlessly around and enjoyed the weather. That night, I went on a York Ghost Trail walk around the city. York is noted for being the most haunted city in England, and the guide took us around the town and pointed out where supposed ghosts and spirits lurk. It was actually a really entertaining tour and the guide, who was dressed in a tux with tails and a top hat, was funny and theatrical.

When I had arrived in York, I inquired about buses to Edinburgh and was informed that there was only one departure daily. I thought it best to reserve a seat rather than risk getting shut out of the bus, but when I asked the woman she told me that I was unable to reserve a seat. Apparently reservations for the Brit Xplorer pass can only be made at National Express offices, not National Express ticket agents. I was, once again, pissed at National Express. There was absolutely no way for me to reserve a seat and I had to just hope that the bus wasn’t full because she also wasn’t able to tell me how many seats were left. They really shouldn’t label their offices “tickets and information” when they don’t provide either. I was, fortunately, able to board the bus to Edinburgh the next morning without a problem, and arrived six hours later.

Home of the Beatles

2007-04-07T09:50:00.000+10:00

I continued my London sightseeing with a day at Tate Modern, London's famous modern art museum on the South Bank. I spent a few hours wandering around the exhibits, fighting the crowds. I really enjoyed the vast amount of work on display, but it was way too packed for my taste. It's frustrating when you're trying to stand back and enjoy Dali's "Metamorphosis of Narcissus" and people's heads keep bobbing back and forth in front of you.

The next day I picked up Sam at the National Theater and we set out for Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum. When we got off the tube station on Baker Street, I could already see the line for the museum, and not just one line, but three jutting off in different directions for different purposes. We ended up on the appropriate line for those who hadn’t purchased tickets and Sam went to inquire about prices. She came back with a price list in her hand and we decided against going to Madame Tussaud’s. The admission price was 25pounds – that’s 50USD to look at some wax figures. I can do that in New York. We decided instead to check out the massive Victoria and Albert Museum, which is coincidentally free, and we spent a few hours roaming around. My favorite exhibit was that on fashion, which was initially closed, but was open to the public when we checked again before we left. Afterwards we hung out at her hotel for a bit and then headed out for a pizza dinner. It was the first real meal that I’d actually eaten since I arrived in the UK; I’d been subsisting on pot noodles and sandwiches so I enjoyed it thoroughly. I dropped Sam off at the theater for her play that night a little while later and we hugged goodbye. It was so good to see her and I can’t remember the last time that we had a whole day like that to enjoy together.

To conclude my London sightseeing, I walked all the way from Shoreditch to Leicester Square (over an hour’s walk) to see the Photographer’s Gallery. I was sorely disappointed. I really love photography and I was looking forward to the gallery, but it was tiny and only featured a handful of not-overly-impressive photos from three artists. I stayed for a bit, and headed back out into the city. It was still really early and I was bored so I found a ticket kiosk and inquired about matinees for the day. It was 1:45pm at that point, and most matinees start at 2:30pm or so, so I’d left the gallery at just the right time. I asked the cashier what she suggested out of what was available and she recommended “We Will Rock You,” the Queen and Ben Elton production at Dominion Theater so I bought a ticket on a whim. My seat was crap and in the second to last row but the whole back section of the theater was empty so I moved to the second row of the last section and actually had a really good view of the stage. At first I wasn’t too keen on the play, the set was a bit minimalist and I’m more partial to all-out productions, but I was clapping and cheering along with the rest of the crowd by the end of it. I really enjoyed it, and I was happy that I got to see a genuinely-English production, not something that I could easily see on Broadway in New York. Plus, the main characters’ voices were fantastic and I enjoy the music of Queen, so it was totally entertaining.

On my last day in London, I met up with Tracy and Jules, friends from England I had met in Australia, for dinner and drinks. I felt so bad because I was late meeting Tracy. I first had to go all the way to Victoria Station so I could reserve my seat for the bus I was taking the next day (and you all know how I feel about reserving seats). I didn’t want to get shut out of the bus though with it being Easter weekend and all. So anyway after taking a few different tubes, I finally got to the National Express office at Victoria Coach Station and was dismayed to see that there was a 20-person line. I waited though because I had no other choice – I needed to be on the bus the next day. It was one of the slowest moving lines ever with people asking the dumbest questions (I couldn’t believe half of them actually waited to inquire about buses in two weeks) but I finally made it to the front, made my reservation, and jetted back to the Underground. I finally met up with Tracy and we joined a few of her friends out at a small pub in Soho. We stayed for a bit and then moved camp to an Indian restaurant in the same area that advertised a decent happy hour. When we arrived, we found that the drinks weren’t as cheap as we had thought but decided to stay anyway. Everyone ordered the most outrageous drinks from Jamaican Mules to Cardamom and Pineapple Martinis to Passion Fruit Mojitos and passed them around for everyone to try. After the happy hour ended, we went upstairs for a fantastic Indian meal – the best I’d had in a long time. There was heaps of it, and never one to leave food on my plate, I was stuffed by the end. We found another bar after dinner for a few more drinks and then decided to call it a night soon after.

The next day I took an extremely packed bus to Liverpool. The journey was five hours anyway and we got stuck in tons of traffic so it took us an hour and a half longer to get there than expected. When I arrived in Liverpool, I asked the woman behind the counter if she could point out where my hostel was on a map and she informed me that it would only be a 10-minute or so walk. I thought that was doable so I started down the street. I met two girls with backpacks on the way who were obviously headed to the same hostel, and we arrived at the front door forty-five minutes later. Though I’d unloaded as much stuff as I could in Sam’s suitcase, my backpack stills weighs a decent amount and I was beat by the time we got there. Since the bus had been late and it was night by the time I arrived, I stayed in and enjoyed my book rather than going out.

After breakfast and a shower I set out for Albert Dock to see the Beatles Story, my main reason for visiting the city of Liverpool – Home of the Beatles. I entered the audio-guided exhibition and spent two hours learning about the history of the Beatles from start to finish. The exhibition was well executed and I learned so much information that I had never even known. If anything there was too much information between the audio guide, the memorabilia and recreations, and the written information on the walls. I was going to also go on the Magical Mystery Tour, a bus ride around Liverpool that points out major Beatles sites, but I was all Beatled-out by the time I left the exhibit so I opted out. I did however make my way over to the famed Cavern Quarter near Mathew Street to check out the Cavern Club where the Beatles used to rock out on stage and The Grapes bar where the Beatles used to hang out before and after their gigs. I really enjoyed the day and I was happy to see some kind of history that didn’t involve a cathedral.

Who Needs Sleep?

2007-04-02T11:17:00.000+10:00

I did the requisite sightseeing around London in the Westminster area and hit up the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, St. Margaret’s Church, and Buckingham Palace. I was going to go into the Houses of Parliament but the wait was way too long so I just took a few pictures from the outside. I was able to enter Westminster Abbey for free because it was during a service, and I went in through a separate entrance. I was only allowed to view a part of the cathedral but I was able to get the jist of it – altar, pews, stained glass windows, etc. I took a few pictures of the palace also, which doesn’t open to the public except for in August and September for certain areas. The flag was flying high, which meant the queen was actually present in the palace but I didn’t get a glimpse of her. I’d been emailing back and forth with Tracy, a friend from England I met in Australia, and we met up for coffee after. It was fun to see her again and chat with someone familiar for a while.

I left for Oxford the next day and I was so happy to get out of my hostel in London. The room I was in was tiny with six of us crammed in there. There wasn’t even enough space for two people to stand and talk between the beds. My roommates were also crazy. It was like they went on the street and found the strangest people they could and asked them, “Would you like to be Jenn’s roommate?” One girl from Spain non-stop talked to me and asked me 10 million questions about America. I barely ever had my jacket off before she’d unleash a barrage of questions. She even asked me if I could get her a job at the bar I used to work at and yes, she was serious. She also advised me to find a husband as soon as I could so I could stop working and let him support me. Was she from the 1950’s? I felt bad for her because she was really sick at the time – like 19th century consumption sick with red rings around her eyes and sallow, sweaty skin – but I tried to avoid her as much as possible because I didn’t want to catch anything or answer any more questions. My room was also above a bar that blasted music that shook the floor and a busy southeast London street was right outside my window. Needless to say, the hostel wasn’t very conducive to sleep. I’d barely slept over the past week because before that my roommate in Brighton was a hardcore Mac truck snorer. Trying to sleep was futile once he came home. I’ve never met anyone who snored on the breath in and the breath out, and who snored whether they were laying on their back or side. It was unreal.

I had a fit when I went to get the bus times to Oxford. I had bought a Brit Xplorer pass for 219pounds so I could hop on any National Express bus to virtually anywhere – apparently anywhere but Oxford, one of the biggest tourist destinations in England. I had to fork over another 13pounds just for a one-way ticket to Oxford. I would have just said, “Forget it” but I had already booked my hostel in Oxford and it was too late to cancel. I was so mad. You’d think National Express could work some deal going to Oxford that’s covered by the Xplorer pass. 219pounds isn’t pocket change, and I should be able to go anywhere in England. Just to make sure, I checked my other probable destinations to see if National Express runs services – looks like I’m not going to Windsor anymore.

I spent the day ambling around the town of Oxford taking in the quaint nature of the town. It wasn’t a terribly exciting day, but it was an exhausting night. I was staying in a dorm with 15 people and I ended up with the bed next to the door. People were constantly walking in and out so it was hard to sleep. After a bit of dozing, I woke up to the sound of someone peeing. Yup, one of my totally drunken roommates decided he was above going to the bathroom and just peed in the middle of the floor of the dorm. He actually peed on my other roommate’s boots – she was furious. I would’ve been as well.

The next day, totally exhausted, I headed to Bath. I was going to take a nap before heading out for some sightseeing, but I thought if I did that I might never make it out so I went to check out the famous Roman Baths and took a guided tour around the area. The baths were actually really interesting and what’s fascinating is that they still work how the Romans intended, which really testifies to their architectural genius. That night I went to bed early, before any of my roommates came home, and I finally got a full night’s sleep.

National Express’s other little ploy is to charge 1.50pounds to make a reservation on a bus. I think paying 219pounds should be enough to warrant a reserved seat, but apparently not. I refuse to pay any extra money so usually I just show up for buses, running the risk of being shut out, which happened in Bath. I showed up to take the 10am bus back to London, but the whole bus was booked out by school groups, and I had to wait to take the 12pm bus, which thankfully had plenty of open seats.

I made it back to London, went to the hostel I’d been staying at to pick up my luggage, and then made my way to Shoreditch where I’m staying with a friend of a friend for a few days. It’s really nice to be staying in someone’s apartment and not in a hostel for a change. I can actually sleep without people snoring and climbing over me on their way into the room.

I met Sam, who is in London on a school trip, on Sunday. I was late meeting her because I got lost on the way to the subway, and I had underestimated the time it would take to get to her hotel. It took me over an hour because I got off a stop early on the tube because I wasn’t sure where the hotel was and I ended up going to the wrong Holiday Inn. But I got there, and Sam and I spent a little time catching up. No matter how much time passes between seeing family and friends, once you do see each other again, it’s like there never was any time in between. I felt like I had just seen her yesterday.

Touring England

2007-03-27T18:58:00.000+10:00

The south of England doesn’t have any comprehensive bus service so I had to go back to London from Canterbury to go to Brighton, my next destination. Upon arrival in London, I grabbed a quick snack at a café because I was starving and ran to board the bus. When I got there the driver said with a sneer, “No hot food on National Express buses,” and walked away from me, not bothering to load my backpack on the bus. I had just heard him yelling at two other people so I figured he was just mean to everyone. I still had a few minutes before the scheduled departure so I stood outside the doors and shoved my food into my mouth, burning my tongue in the process. When it was still two minutes to 1pm, the driver looked at me and said rudely, “Any time you’re ready there sweetheart. Don’t rush yourself.” I could have hit him – I still had two minutes left! I tossed the last remnants into my mouth and went to board the bus, but the driver first made me walk all the way back to the terminal to throw out the paper the pastry had been in, as if it would contaminate the garbage bag on board. We ended up not leaving on time anyway. The two people who the driver had been yelling at came back and he grudgingly accompanied them to the office to sort out the problem. He kept grumbling about how he had to leave on time and we were putting him behind. I wanted to point out that National Express buses usually run about ten minutes late anyway, but I thought he might actually hit me.

When I got to Brighton, I found my dump of a hostel easily, and headed out to call home for Sam’s birthday. When I dialed the phone card number, the voice came on and said I had insufficient credit to make the call. What? I had just bought a 5pound phone card and I’d only called home for 20 minutes. I’m supposed to get 300 minutes. I was pissed and called the customer service rep to take it out on him. He explained that calling from a payphone incurs a 20pence per minute surcharge. I said that it doesn’t say that anywhere on the card and doesn’t say that when you dial the number, which usually it does. “It says it in the fine print on the poster,” he retorted. Of course it would be in the fine print. Isn’t it always? I started going on about how that should be clearer and asked if there was a way around it by using a local access number like I did in OZ and NZ. He told me that once I dialed from a payphone, no matter what number I used, it would incur a surcharge. I was livid. He suggested I use a friend or relative’s landline or mobile to make the call. I wanted to reach through the phone and wring his neck. Did he think if I had another phone to use I’d be calling customer service to complain? “I have no access to any other phone but a payphone…obviously,” I said. “You should really make phone cards for people calling from payphones. They’re the ones who usually use them anyhow,” I added. We had reached a stalemate – there was no way to remedy the situation so he said, “I’m sorry ma’am,” and I said, “Thanks,” and hung up. I felt like a jerk for yelling at him as he was only a customer service rep and not the genius behind the sneaky 20pence per minute surcharge scheme but someone had to take the brunt of my wrath and that time it fell on him. Suffice it to say; no one will hear my voice for a while.

Brighton is known as the home of the “dirty weekend” and I arrived on a Saturday so I should have gone out and enjoyed myself but instead I read in my room. England is way too expensive to do anything – anything at all. The pound to dollar at the moment is two to one so my money immediately halves in value. The prices here are the same as at home except it costs double because I’m on dollars not pounds. It’s absolutely ridiculous. I almost have a breakdown every time I buy dinner, debating incessantly if I should go for the Subway sub of the day again for 1.99pounds or an actual meal for a pound or two more. It takes me longer to decide what to eat than to actually eat it, and I feel guilty no matter what I decide, like I shouldn’t be eating at all. Accommodation is the same. I drive myself mad trying to find cheap rooms online. The cheapest I’ve come across is 10pounds, which is still 20USD a night, which really isn’t so cheap when you think about it. Can someone please do something about the value of the dollar so I don’t end up panhandling by day and sleeping on the street by night?

I spent a few days in Brighton just bumming around town and walking the Brighton Pier, basically a carnival on the water. My last night I looked out my hostel window to see the sun setting over the water, and I ran outside to get a few pictures. On my way back, I looked across to see a huge sign reading: “Ricky Gervais Tonight” at Brighton Center. I love Ricky Gervais, and I immediately ran over to see if I could get a last minute ticket. The opening act was set to start at 7:30 and it was 7:15 so I was right on time. The counter lady told me they only had limited viewing (due to a handrail) seats left and they were 25pounds. I thought that was a little much but decided to follow my whim, took the ticket anyway and charged it. Good old credit cards. Besides, I was in need of a good night of comedy. Gervais was hysterical and my favorite part of the show was when the mic broke unexpectedly. I think a true comic should be able to handle the unplanned with humor and he pulled it off brilliantly. I walked out of the theater totally pleased that I’d be at the right place at the right time for once.

I took the bus back to London the next day and the underground to my hostel. I had forgotten to check the address of the hostel but remembered how to get there so I figured I’d wing it. I walked out of New Cross Gate station, made a left and continued on down the street. After a bit of walking, I stopped into an internet café to check the address to make sure I was at least walking in the right direction. It turned out the hostel was two doors down…if only I’d walked another 30 seconds, but my impatience got the best of me. I headed out immediately to start my London sightseeing. I started at London Tower, but decided to forgo the tour because they were charging 16pounds – that’s 32USD…the nerve of them just to see some lousy crown jewels. Pictures from the outside were good enough for me. I then made my way over the impressive Tower Bridge and walked along South Bank toward the not so impressive London Bridge. I found the reconstructed Globe Theater and took a fantastic guided tour. The guide was funny and full of information. The reconstructed theater is beautiful and as authentic as you can get without actually being the original. They recreated the theater exactly how it had been in Shakespeare’s time and even used all of the same materials such as oak for the whole building and thatch for the roof. Unfortunately plays at the Globe don’t commence until May, otherwise I would have inquired about tickets.

Outrunning the Snow

2007-03-24T06:08:00.000+10:00

My last night in Prague, it actually snowed. I was thankful to be leaving because I was in no mood for the snow. I have tried to avoid any semblance of winter whatsoever. I was up at 5:30am, surprisingly with ease, especially after having a fitful night of sleep. New roommates showed up at 1:30am commenting loudly on how big the dorm was, as if unaware that they had booked themselves into a 36-person dorm (did they think it’d be the size of a closet?), until they finally left. They reappeared at 4:00am completely drunk and started yelling to one another about how drunk they actually were. Johnny, my Australian roommate, apparently able to hear them over his earplugs, yelled at them to shut up. I had a hard time falling asleep again because though they weren’t yelling anymore, they were snoring extremely loud. I finally drifted off but I awoke again to the buzz of my alarm less than an hour later.

I made it to the airport effortlessly, a pro at Prague’s public transport system, and landed in London after an hour and a half flight. I had a harder time getting through customs in the U.K. than anywhere else I’ve been. The customs officer was disconcerted because I didn’t have a UK address (who does while on holiday) and because I was staying in the UK for a “month-ish.” She made me dig out my onward ticket from Ireland to prove I wasn’t covertly planning to live here. After I told her I just came from Prague, she became super interested in every detail of my trip asking me where I’d been, how long I’d been traveling, if it was self-financed or if I borrowed money and, to my total astonishment, how much it cost in total. She also marveled that I was traveling on my own and was intent on hearing my thoughts on Prague because that’s where her husband-to-be is from (though she’s never been). I didn’t know if she was testing me and trying to throw me off-guard with her rapid-fire questioning or if she was truly intrigued. I just kept answering as every other person who had been in line behind me swished past me toward the exit. I didn’t think they were so tough on Americans (we are allies after all) visiting the UK, but I guess I thought wrong.

I took the underground to my hostel from the airport, which was a quite convenient 30-minute trip. Everyone on the train had just come from the airport so the floor was littered with luggage and one old man left standing. I was sitting on a seat with my huge backpack still on my back, too lazy to remove it, and I waited one stop to see if anyone would offer him his or her seat. When no one did, I asked if he’d like to sit down and the elderly man said, “No, thank you.” But I watched as he swayed unsteadily with the rocking train and insisted that he take the seat. Me, the one with huge backpack, stood while everyone else sat there with blank stares. I was honestly appalled at how rude and selfish people can be. I could not, with a good conscience, let that elderly man stand there while I sat on my 24 year-old ass. There was one man who even had a piece of his luggage on one of the seats and made not one motion to move it. I wanted to yell out, “You should all be ashamed of yourselves,” but I figured it would fall on deaf ears anyhow so I kept quiet. I just hope that when they reach a “certain age” not a person stands to offer them a seat out of courtesy.

Once I got to the hostel, I checked in, deposited my bags in the room, and set out for my mission of the day – not to see London, but to buy a jacket. Until now I’d only been wearing a fleece and I broke the zipper the other day during a tantrum. It’d been sticking, and I yanked it to un-jam it, but I guess I used too much force. The zipper had become so impossible to undo that often I had to shimmy out of the fleece, pushing it to my knees, letting it fall to my ankles, and then stepping out of it. It was really not the most convenient maneuver in the world, especially in public. Though I arrived on a rare beautiful spring day in London, it’s still very cold so a fleece wouldn’t have sufficed for much longer anyhow. I spent all day scouring the stores of Hammersmith (where my hostel was) and Oxford Street in central London. I finally gave in and bought a jacket at Zara for 19pounds, which was double what I actually wanted to pay but half of what every other jacket cost. I figured I’d get enough use out of it to justify the purchase and besides, I don’t want to freeze, now do I?

I happened to find a Topshop, the one place in London I truly wanted to see. I was completely overwhelmed by the enormity of the store and its offerings. It included three floors of clothes, a vintage section, a shoe parlor, a nail salon (just in case you wanted to see how a certain dress looks with your nails done), a café (for a much-needed mid-shopping caffeine fix), a concierge (?), and style advisors. Unfortunately, I barely have enough money to eat, let alone buy clothes so I didn’t linger too long. I was also the least stylish person there dressed in the backpacker uniform of jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt so I felt out of place among London’s wannabe hipsters and fashionistas. Now if I ever come back to London with extra funds, that’s a different story. You’d probably have to send a search party.

By the time I had purchased the jacket, after mulling it over for some time, and reached the underground station, it was smack-dab in the middle of rush hour. London is like NY during that time and the train was packed to the gills. I was close enough to smell what kind of liquor the guy next to me had with lunch. All of a sudden, an argument erupted behind me. I twisted my head to watch the commotion and saw it was two middle-aged women yelling at each other. Apparently one had been too close to the other for her liking. I started to laugh when one gray-haired lady pulled a sneer and rolled her eyes at the other. She looked like a petulant child. The fight lasted for a good three minutes, which seems interminable for something as trivial as brushing against someone on a jam-packed train. I couldn’t help but laugh at their immaturity. You’d think they had never ridden the subway before.

When I got back to my room, I could hear music before I even had a hand on the doorknob. I walked into a room blasting rap from a portable CD player. At first I didn’t even see anyone in the room but then I spied one of my roommates tucked into bed with the covers pulled to her chin reading. She didn’t even acknowledge me until I pointedly looked at her and said “Hi” with a too-big-on-the-verge-of-sarcastic smile on my face. She just smiled back – actually smirked would be more accurate. Ok, I thought, we obviously aren’t going to be friends. She then rolled over and went to sleep not bothering to turn off Eminem. I immediately disliked her. She seemed not to care that there were five other people staying in the room (though at that moment it was just me). I should have guessed from the state of the room that she’d claimed it for herself. It looked like a college dorm, and I think she actually lived there. There were shoes scattered over the floor, masses of toiletries strewn across the sink, odds and ends cluttered the desk, and framed pictures adorned the walls. I didn’t even bother unpacking anything because I was leaving the next day and I was too afraid to put anything on the floor for fear it’d be swept into a pile with her stuff.

I took the bus the next day to Canterbury, a little south of London. That morning, it had started to snow in London, but it was a beautifully clear day in Canterbury. I seemed to keep out-running the snow. Canterbury is a quaint little town renowned for its Cathedral. I walked around the bustling town center for a bit enjoying the uncharacteristic weather and had lunch at an outdoor café before heading to the Cathedral. I always enjoy churches when I’m not forced to be there. I find them peaceful and calming. Canterbury Cathedral is massive and I walked around for a bit admiring the different chapels and dedication statues while trying to avoid the hordes of noisy disruptive students crowding the interior.

The next day I woke up to gray wetness outside, but I still made the trip to Dover as planned. The weather cleared a little when I arrived but the wind froze me from head to toe. I had wanted to take a boat ride to get a view of Dover’s famous White Cliffs, but the boats only run during the summer. I headed to Dover Castle instead, and as it was the first castle in England that I visited, I was enthusiastic to see it. I’m sure by the tenth, I’ll be sick of them. How different can stone fortresses get? I took a tour of the Secret Wartime Tunnels, which was actually really interesting. The tunnels were of great importance during WWII and served as a base of operations. I thought the funniest fact the guide mentioned was that if in the event of a nuclear attack, a tunnel had been excavated where Churchill and other high ranking civil and military officials would stay until it was safe to come out. The fact wasn’t funny in and of itself, but she sarcastically added at the end, “In the event of an attack, radiation from a nuclear bomb would easily penetrate through the chalk cliffs and wouldn’t have protected them at all. It’s really just basic physics…but that’s ok.” I guess they hadn’t taken that into consideration during the excavation.

Culture Culture

2007-03-18T19:15:00.000+10:00

I explored the Jewish Quarter of Prague the other day. I got a pass to visit the Jewish Museum, which consisted of four synagogues, a ceremonial hall, and a cemetery. Katie, a girl I met at the hostel, lent me her school ID so I could get a discounted ticket, but the lady didn't even ask to see it - she just took me as a student on my word. Learning about Jewish history in Prague was really interesting and I found the last synagogue, Pinkas, fascinating. The entire synagogue is dedicated to the memory of those from Bohemia and Moravia who perished during the Holocaust. There are thousands of names scrawled all over the walls to commemorate the loss. It also houses a small section devoted to the art of the children who passed through Terezin, a Jewish camp that was wrongly promoted by the Nazis as a Jewish "refuge" during WWII.

The other night I joined a few people for a night of culture at the opera. We got tickets, which only cost 4USD, to Samson & Delila in French at the Prague National Theatre. It was the first opera I'd ever experienced and I really enjoyed it. I thought the set, which consisted primarily of different-colored beanbags (what? - exactly), was a bit too minimalist and Delila lacked any real stage presence, but Samson was fantastic and carried the show. It definitely whet my appetite for the opera, and I'm eager to see another one when I return to NY.

I'd already seen all of the major sites in Prague so I decided to spend a day at the Center for Modern & Contemporary Art instead of walking, once again, around the Old Town. To my delight, I claimed to be a student at the ticket desk and got a discounted admission to the gallery without even having to show any form of ID. I should have started doing that right off the bat instead of paying the full adult prices. While I'm not big on museums, I do really enjoy galleries and I love getting lost in the maze of paintings. The gallery was a massive five floors, and I spent hours wandering among the different exhibits ranging from Czech Art of the 20th Century to French Art in the 19th Century to Modern Foreign Art.

Afterwards, I ducked into a small pub for a meal before I headed back to the hostel. Though I wouldn't normally order it, I got roast turkey, potatoes, and spinach. It wasn't the best thing I've ever eaten, and I don't think the turkey was even edible. While I love Prague, I definitely don't love the food, the standard being meat and potato dumplings. I've been eating pizza most nights to avoid main Czech dishes, which aren't really pleasing to my palate, but I'm even sick of pizza now. Ideally, my diet would consist mostly of fruits and vegetables, but produce isn't really much of an option here. I think I've eaten one banana since I've been here and only vegetables that come on pizza.

Greek Quirks and Prague Sightseeing

2007-03-14T17:40:00.000+10:00

I treated myself to a really nice Greek dinner my last night in Athens at Taverna Byzantino down in Plaka. The combination of an upset stomach for most of the trip and subsisting on gyros to eat cheaply left me craving authentic Greek fare. I ate like I was never coming back to Greece again and had bread, a greek salad, moussaka, ice cream, and retsina (a Greek wine flavored with pine resin) to wash it all down. It was a fantastic meal made even better by the atmosphere of Plaka, and I thoroughly enjoyed my last night in Greece before flying to Prague the next day.

Ruminations on Greek Quirks:

1. There are beads in Greece that are sold on every corner, in virtually every shop that are neither necklaces, bracelets nor keychains. Because I didn't ask, I don't know if they serve any purpose. What I do know is they are infuriatingly annoying to listen to. Everywhere I turned, a man was standing idly swinging the beads around his fingers again and again; winding them around and then unwinding them unceasingly. All I ever heard was the clink-clink-clink as each bead hit the one next to it. It was like I could tune out all other sounds but this one, and everyone owned these beads. Why? I just don't know. All I know is I wanted to take the beads and wring their necks with them.

2. I could not walk down the street nor sit in any public place without being accosted by a Greek man uttering "Where are you from?" or "How long will you be in Athens?" It was painfully irritating when all I wanted to do was sit in the sun and enjoy a cup of coffee, but every man felt the need to strike up a conversation. I've never seen anything like it. Are Greek men taught at an early age that every woman on her own is just waiting for him to engage her in conversation? I was perfectly happy sitting alone, thank you.

3. I thought that the use of pay phones was on the verge of obsolete with the advent and prevalent use of cell phones. Well not in Athens apparently. In NY, you'd be hard-pressed to find a working pay phone, while in Athens, you'd be hard-pressed to find one not in use - no exaggeration. Virtually every pay phone was in use during all hours. Even the ones in busy public squares where one could barely hear the person on the other end above the surrounding din were always occupied. Not only that, but at many busy areas there were actually lines for the phones. Even in not busy areas, like right outside my hostel, I more than once had to give someone a snotty look to get them to back away from the pay phone while I was on it. I can't stand when someone is standing over my shoulder with imploring eyes waiting for my conversation to end. It makes me want to talk longer. More than once I've told someone, "I'm going to be a loooong time." What I really wanted to say was, "Why the hell don't you have a cell phone?"

4. The fruit cart vendors are ruthless and I was turned away more than once for trying to break a banana off a bunch. "But I just want one," I've said. Then the vendor would usually hold up the lone half-rotten or tiny banana that was sitting in the middle of the cart. "But I want this one," I'd say, indicating a nice ripe, good-sized banana. "No," they'd mutter and actually shoo me away with their hand. I don't understand why they'd rather not make a sale than, god-forbid, split up a bunch of bananas.

I arrived in Prague after a two hour flight from Athens and didn't land until around 5:30pm. Though the hostel had attached explicit directions, I still got lost on my way there. I easily found the bus and metro I had to take, but from there, I never found the street I was supposed to turn down. I stopped a Czech man on the street to ask him but he didn't know so he stopped another man who was a bit iffy about the location of the street as well. He sent me in the direction I had been heading, and it turned out, I was only one block over from where I needed to be. I checked into the hostel and almost fainted (I'd already been carrying my 65lbs. of luggage for 45 minutes) when the receptionist directed me toward the 36-person dorm on the 9th floor - and no there was no elevator. I was winded by the time I made it to the top. The only advantage to having to walk 10 flights of stairs daily is that it's inadvertent exercise. The disadvantage is that I want to cry whenever I make it to the bottom and realize I forgot something on my bed.

My first night in Prague I joined a group of people down in the hostel's bar. What started as a quiet drink or two turned rowdy when someone grabbed a deck of cards, more people showed up, and we got a game of Kings (aka King's Cup, Circle of Death, Ring of Fire, etc.) under way. It was complete chaos trying to explain the rules, which everyone's are different, when there were French who spoke no English; Germans who spoke no English; and English, Canadians, and Americans who spoke neither French nor German. It seemed drinking was a universal language though (especially in Prague where a pint of beer is cheaper than water) and we all got along splendidly despite the language barriers.

As I have a whole week in Prague, I decided to split the sightseeing up rather than cram it all into one day. I walked around the city a bit my second night through Old Town Square and over Charles Bridge admiring the breathtaking architecture and enjoying the old-world feel of the city. I headed to Prague Castle the next day, passing through Old Town Square (which reminds me a lot of La Grand Place in Brussels) and over the Charles Bridge once again. The Charles Bridge is a much better sight to see during the day so I was happy to cross it again. The numerous statues that line both sides weren't lit up at night and the features were hard to make out, but in daylight they were beautiful. I made the uphill trek to Prague Castle and walked around the grounds checking out the imposing yet remarkable St. Vitus Cathedral with its towering spires, St. George's Basilica, and other on-site historical buildings. The architecture was stunning, and Prague Castle has the distinction of being the largest ancient castle in the world. I made my way back to Old Town Square afterwards and checked out the Salvador Dali Exhibition. It contained less well-known mixed-media works by Dali and a photographic collection of Dali by Vaclav Chochola. It wasn't a very large exhibit, and I breezed through it quickly.

Quiet Time

2007-03-11T14:40:00.000+10:00

I took the ferry from Piraeus, the port of Athens, to Santorini. Greece is known for its islands so I figured I had to venture to at least one. I have to say my first day there I was not totally impressed. Unable to get in touch with the hostel I wanted to stay at, unsure even if it was open, I ended up at Hotel Perissa for 15Euro a night, which isn’t really expensive but more than I wanted to pay. Santorini, which people rave about unseemingly, was virtually desolate. It lacked any landscape or people. Most of the architecture is typical Cycladian (white buildings with blue trim for which Greece is known for) but it wasn’t as whitewashed and polished as I expected. And once again, I was the only person at the hotel where I was staying. The owners were extremely nice though and the man drove me up to a viewpoint to watch the sunset that Santorini is so famous for. The sunset was beautiful, though I felt awkward sharing it with a 65 year-old hardcore Greek man. I appreciated him driving me up to the top of the hill to view it though – he didn’t have to go out of his way like that.

I went out to dinner at the only taverna anywhere near my hotel, at which I was the only diner. The owner seemed unprepared for anyone to show up as he looked like he was relaxing in his living room instead of at the restaurant. When I asked to see a menu, he laughed, said he had none, and started to rattle off different food items. I ended up ordering spaghetti with beef meatballs/sausages because I couldn’t deduce what else had been on his verbal menu. I thought I was in trouble when I heard him pushing the buttons on the microwave, but in fairness, the dish was very tasty, microwaved or not. And so I sat and ate my dinner while he watched a soccer game on TV. It was like Nafplio all over again.

After my lone dinner, I went straight back to the hotel and dove right into my bed on which I’d arranged two heavy blankets. The room was nice enough and included a kitchenette, bathroom, balcony, and two double beds (in case I spawned three companions), but there was no heat and it was too cold to sit anywhere else but under the blankets. Even then it took a while to warm up. I fell asleep early though with my entire body covered to keep the cold out. It was like sleeping in a cocoon.

My next day didn’t bring any great revelations about Santorini either. I slept for as long as I could so I’d have less waking hours to waste and then sat on my balcony eating breakfast for a good part of the morning. I decided then to head to Perissa Beach, a black-sand beach that stretches along the east coast of the island. Santorini also boasts a red-sand beach, which evolved due to the volcanic eruptions, and apparently it really is a crimson red. But it wasn’t anywhere near where I was staying so I spent time at the black-sand beach instead. After, I walked the 20 minutes into town just for a cup of coffee (anything to warm me up), and I was also trying to spend as little time as possible in my room because having my nose run and my fingers stiffen from cold wasn’t my idea of a good time. I stayed at the cafe in town for as long as one drawn-out cup of coffee would allow and then headed back.

Rather than go to the same taverna for dinner and suffer through being its only customer, I opted to pick up a cup-of-soup at the supermarket along with some bread. My room had an electric kettle and a hotplate, but the kettle smelled and looked like it’d been painted on the inside (maybe they were boiling paint?) so I was left with the hotplate. I filled two small metal cups with water and waited and waited and waited and watched an overdramatic Greek soap opera. I wondered if sometimes water never reaches boiling temperature and if this was one of those times. After an hour, it still hadn’t boiled, and I was halfway through my loaf of bread, so I decided it had to be hot enough and poured it in. I probably should have just gone to the taverna where a steaming meal would have been set before me no longer than 10 minutes after I’d ordered.

I took the ferry back to Athens the next day. I was originally going to stay in Santorini another night but I couldn’t bear the cold or the boredom any longer; I was tired of my own company. The ship was set to sail at 3:30pm, but check-out was at noon so I had the owner drive me to the port then, which left me with 3 hours to kill. I holed up at the only restaurant that was open in the port and nursed a cup of coffee and a tuna sandwich, for which he charged me a steep 7Euro. Finally after almost finishing my book, the ferry arrived. I landed in Piraeus a little after midnight and caught the last metro back into Athens’ city center, where I walked the short distance back to the hostel.

While I loved Greece as a country and all it had to offer in the way of scenery, culture, and food, I wouldn’t recommend visiting in the off-season, unless you think counting the hairs on your arm is a worthwhile activity that you’ve been meaning to find some quiet time for or you’re a misanthrope. Barring Athens, which is a city that will always be hectic, the rest of Greece sleeps during the off-season and I was bored to tears most of the time without anyone to commiserate with. I’d love to come back again…just not in March.

I Just Couldn't Shake Him

2007-03-08T00:09:00.000+10:00

I made an excursion to the seaside city of Nafplio on the Peloponnese for a few days. The old town was charming and quaint with restaurants and cafes lining its streets and the formidable Palamidi Castle towering 215m above. I wandered around the first day and hung out at a small cafÈ with coffee and a book. There wasn’t much else to do on a Sunday.

My hostel was a bit out of the way with no nearby eateries so I had to venture back into the old town for dinner. Though it was bustling during the day, at night there were only a handful of people milling around. I stopped into a small restaurant that I wasn’t even sure was open because the only people occupying the small interior was the family who owned it. It turned out they were open, and I ate my Greek salad (which by the way isn’t served with lettuce in Greece) quietly while they watched a soccer game on TV. I felt like an intruder.

The next day I set out to accomplish what I went to Nafplio for – climb the 999 stone steps up to the Palamidi Castle. I don’t know why I do these things to myself. It actually wasn’t that bad of a climb, and the view was fairly worthwhile. I should have taken in the view from outside the ticket office though instead of paying 4Euro to look at more stone walls inside. If I were a student, the price would only have been 2Euro, which was a more reasonable price for entering, I feel. Now that I think about it, I should have gotten a student I.D. card on the streets in Thailand or better yet, remembered to bring my old Binghamton one. For most sights in Europe, a student card almost halves the price. How sad is it that most people get fake licenses so they can get into places where they’d ordinarily be underage, but I want a fake student ID card so I can pass as underage to get a discount?

After descending the 999 stone-steps to street level, I treated myself to a spinach pie (my new favorite snack) and a coffee, sat on the sidewalk and people-watched the minutes away. While I was on my way to the cafÈ, a man on the street off-handedly asked me if I wanted to get coffee. Though that was my intent, I said "No, thank you," and went on my way. After my snack, remembering there was a nearby beach, I headed there for a quiet afternoon in the sun. Just as I was making myself as comfortable as I could be sprawled out on a stone wall, who should appear, but the man who asked me to coffee. At first I thought he’d been following me, but he said that he had just come to the beach for a cigarette (suspicious if you ask me) and saw me lying alone on the wall. He proceeded to chatter uncontrollably, awkwardly standing in front of me while I stayed in my prone position, only stopping for me to say "uh-huh" or "mmm" in response. I tried my damndest to be aloof so he’d leave me alone, but to no avail. "Perhaps I could take you out, listen to some Greek music, and have a beer tonight. It is up to you but you are a sweet girl and maybe once you know me you have feeling for me too, yes?" he said almost in one breath. I had to stop myself from laughing – have feelings? Was he crazy? "Um no thank you," I responded after a pause. "Or maybe I could just keep you company or something?" he suggested. I couldn’t stop him if I tried. He continued to talk though I kept my eyes closed and barely uttered a word. "Or maybe you want to be alone?" he finally said. "I’d prefer to be alone, thank you," I said, relieved that I’d been given a way out of the conversation. He left me alone at last and I settled back into my position on the wall.

About half hour later, I spotted him heading in my direction once again. I groaned, hoping he was headed for the stone steps up to the street and not toward me. No luck! "Sorry to bother you again, but I just want to talk to you for a bit. I’d like a companion, you see," he said by way of explanation. I sighed visibly. Apparently my first brush-off hadn’t been so effective – he was a persistent one. He started to ask about my travels and where I was from and then said, "I just thought since you are a nice girl, that you’d like to have a nice night out with me and get to know me a bit." I stared straight ahead as he tried to engage me in conversation. "So what do you think?" he asked. "Um no thanks. I’d rather be left alone," I reiterated my original response. "Well, ok. I just thought I would ask again. I put the proposition out there and you have answered no so…" he trailed off. "Well take care then," I said hurriedly connoting that this was the end-of-conversation. I felt slightly bad as a pained expression crossed his face as he got up to leave again. "Well goodbye then. Take care of yourself," he said. I smiled, waved, and watched him walk away to make sure he was actually leaving this time. I really wonder what goes through people’s minds at times. Isn’t one rejection enough? Who goes back for another?

New Continent Please

2007-03-03T02:11:00.000+10:00

I left Thailand for Greece on Sunday night. Ironically, I actually felt that I could have spent a little more time in Thailand. Just as I was finally warming to the country, it was time to leave. My initial impression of Thailand was wholly negative, but she redeemed herself little by little, and I really enjoyed my last few days. It didn’t matter though; I was off to Greece to start the European leg of my journey.

After arriving in Chiang Mai International Airport, I stood on the check-in line for Thai Airways for 45 minutes. At first I wasn’t even sure if I was on a line, groups of people and school kids were scattered everywhere in no real order, but I ended up on a line that despite having the fewest people, progressed the slowest. To make it worse, I had one of those really annoying, obnoxious women behind me – the sort who has to point out constantly how slow the line is moving though those of us on the line are fully aware we’ve barely moved. She also rammed me twice in the foot with her cart in her eagerness to get to the counter. It was as if she thought those few extra inches would speed her check-in process. She apologized both times but I wanted to say, "If you’re so sorry, then stop doing it." Of course she ended up in the seat across from me on the huge Boeing-777 to Bangkok. What were the odds that she’d be on my flight in the first place and next to me secondly? I suppose pretty damn good because she was. Thankfully, she’d been separated from her friends so I didn’t have to listen to her yapping the entire time.

The flight from Chiang Mai to Bangkok was only an hour, and then I had an hour and half layover before my flight to Greece. I headed to the food court straightaway to see what I could buy with what little baht I had left. I was astonished at the astronomical prices (I guess it was an airport after all) and scrounged for any change I might have overlooked. I found 113 baht total on me, leaving me with few options. I wanted a tuna sandwich but it was 120 baht – just out of my price range. I felt like a pauper. I could have afforded a different sandwich but my dilemma was that I wanted something to eat and water, but even the small waters (and I mean small) were 40 baht each. I searched the food court up and down several times for food that was 70 baht so I could eat and drink. I had no luck and decided to forgo drink for food, ordering a bagel with cream cheese, knowing full well it wouldn’t be a real bagel (I have to at least try one in every country), for 95 baht. The bagel left me so thirsty though that I decided, out of sheer desperation, to change 2US dollars I’d forgotten I had to baht at the money exchange. There were no ATM’s in sight – I know you were wondering why I just didn’t take out more money. The man standing behind me spied my measly $2 and said in disbelief, "Is that what you’re changing? You’re kidding me." I shrugged and responded, "I want a water and I have no baht left." He laughed at me in pity and unfolded a fist full of baht and change. "I’ll give you 40 baht for one dollar. Keep the other." I agreed and handed over the dollar. "I’m not missing my flight so you can change 2 bucks," he said and handed me the money. "Now get out of my line," he said mock-annoyed with a laugh. I smiled and said, "As long as I get my water, I’ll happily move out of your way. Thanks." I walked away, purchased my puny water (I still couldn’t afford a big one), and proceeded to the gate for my 11-hour flight to Athens.

The flight from Bangkok to Athens went by quick enough, and I slept for a good part of it. My only irritation was the man behind me who kept kicking my seat and asking me to move forward. I kept my seat reclined anyhow – who was he to tell me to sit straight up so he’d be more comfortable? The man next to me was two times his size, and he fit fine into the seat so I don’t know why the man behind me was having such a hard time. His legs couldn’t have been that long. He was also sitting in the aisle seat – did he not think to keep his legs to the side like every other person in the aisle?

I arrived in Athens shortly before 7am and took a taxi to my hostel. I was pleased to notice, as we pulled out of the airport, that they drive on the right. It’s the first country I’ve been in where they don’t drive on the left. I have no concept of the Euro and I’m sure I paid more than I should have for the taxi but I always like to take a cab straight to my destination upon arrival in a new country. It’s too confusing trying to navigate the bus/train systems right after getting off the plane. The ride took a good 40 minutes and the taxi driver seemed a bit lost – he went around in the same circle six times. He also had to check his map directory, which tipped me off to his confusion. We eventually did find the hostel though and I checked in.

I spent my first day in Greece in bed. I had started to feel sick at the airport but it really hit me later that day. I don’t know what caused it, but I felt like I was going to throw up anytime I moved and my stomach was painfully contorted. I figured I would let myself rest and start my sightseeing the next day. I didn’t get a chance to plan Greece at all beforehand so I tried to look over the hostel’s Greece guide. Obviously Athens is a lot of sightseeing, but it’s the off-season for Greece so island hopping wasn’t the most logical itinerary. I spent half my time in bed trying to decide how I would spend the rest of my time.

I woke up the next day still a bit sore but it was much more manageable than the day before. I had wanted to go on the hostel’s walking tour, but I decided to push it back a day because it was also raining. Rain – what is that? I hadn’t seen rain since mid-January. I decided to venture out anyway and get some sights in and some errands done. After paying a ridiculously exorbitant sum to send a package home at the post office and hitting up the internet for a bit, I decided to go the National Archaeological Museum, which houses the world’s largest collection of Greek antiquities. It had tons of interesting sculptures and ancient artifacts but I got tired of looking at "Marble Head of a Youth" after awhile and headed out. Since it had started to pour by then, I stopped into a small bakery to wait out the rain. Out of the three stools by the window, two were occupied so I took the last. The man to my right, who could have been old enough to be my father, immediately tried to engage me in conversation by asking where I was from and how long I’d be in Athens. I was not in the mood for small talk and tried to deflect his interest by giving short, curt answers. Finally, him and his friends took off, but not before he patted me on the back and said, "It was very, very nice to meet you." It made me laugh because I’d been warned about Greek men, and I’d only been in the country for a day before what I’d heard turned out to be true. The rain finally abated and the rest of the day I spent strolling around Athens, familiarizing myself with the city.

The next day was crisp and clear, and I joined the sightseeing walking tour around Athens. At first I thought I was the only one on the tour, but we picked up another two people from a different hostel, funny enough both also American. We spent the day visiting all the sights that Athens has to offer including the Acropolis and the Parthenon, the Ancient Agora, the Temple of Olympian Zeus and Hadrian’s Arch, the National Gardens, the President’s House where we watched the changing of the guard, the first Olympic Stadium, and Zappeion among others. It was a full day, and I fell in love with Athens. I don’t know if it was the weather that reminded of an early spring day in New York or the fact that you could walk down any random street and see something that’s been standing for centuries, but I just took such pleasure in the city’s buzz. After the group disbanded, I walked around the neighborhoods of Monastiraki and Plaka, and enjoyed getting lost in Athens’s narrow, cobbled streets before heading back to my hostel.

I got lost the next day trying to find Terminal B to catch the bus to Delphi for an overnight stay. When I boarded the city bus, I asked the driver if he went to "Praktorio B" and he nodded yes. After a half hour on the bus I got suspicious that we’d passed the terminal, I didn’t think it was that far out of town, and asked the man sitting in front of me. He, in turn, asked the bus driver, then informed me that yes, we had passed it, and I would have to get off and get on a bus in the opposite direction. The man actually escorted me off the bus, ushered me to a different stop, and pointed out on the map where I’d have to get off for the terminal. I was totally surprised that he’d gotten off the bus to personally show me where to go, but I was grateful for his help regardless. I eventually made it to the terminal after asking the next bus driver if he was going to "Praktorio B" and could he actually signal me when we were there. Fortunately, I’d given myself enough time to get to the station; otherwise my little mishap would have caused me to miss the 3-hour bus to Delphi.

When I boarded the bus to Delphi, I was surprised to see a young, hip guy with spiky hair wearing a maroon button-down and jeans was the driver. I’ve never been on a bus where the driver wasn’t a short, pudgy, balding or with a comb-over, man in his mid-50s. The driver even blasted Greek dance music the entire ride. It was like he was on his own personal road trip, paying no mind to those of us along with him.

I arrived in the enchanting little town of Delphi right as scheduled and set out for accommodation. As it is still off-season, most places were closed. However, I did find a cute little hotel to stay in for the night after a kind salesman phoned his friend, the receptionist. It was a bit on the expensive side of budget, but I was paying three times less than high season prices, so I took it and headed to the archaeological ruins of the Sanctuary of Apollo. I roamed around the ruins for a bit and then the town, taking in its quaint shops and quiet streets. I could have seen the ruins and the museum in one day and took a bus straight back to Athens, but I left the museum until the next day so I wouldn’t feel rushed. Besides, it was nice to stay somewhere other than Athens for a night.

Trekking and Cooking

2007-02-25T16:13:00.000+10:00

The three-day trek started out with waiting. We were told to meet in the courtyard of the hostel at 8:00am to leave. However, we didn’t go until 9:30am. Then we had to wait at another hostel for two more people to join the group. That took nearly 45 minutes. Then we had to wait at the police station for our group leader, Dyo, to drop off our passport pictures at the precinct in the event that something happened to us. I suppose it would have made it easier to identify who was missing and to notify the appropriate embassies. That took nearly another 45 minutes. We finally got on the road around 11:00am and headed to the markets to pick up food that we would need for the trip. Then it was a two-hour journey in a tuk-tuk to get to our destination near Pai.

We started at the village of the Lisu people where we had lunch and then waited some more for Dyo to return. He had left to meet one of his friends. At this point, I had my doubts as to how well organized the trip would be from then on out. But after that the trip progressed smoothly. Our first day we hiked for an hour and a half to another village of Lahu people where we were to stay the night. I have to admit the hike was a bit rough. I had asked the hostel manager before the trip if it was a difficult or fairly easy trek. He assured me it was easy, easy, no problem. His assurance was one of the reasons I agreed to go on the trip. I’ve barely worked out in the almost five months that I’ve been away and doing a strenuous three-day hike didn’t sound like my idea of fun with me being so out-of-shape and all. I realized that first day just how lethargic I’ve been while traveling. The flat areas and downhills were easy, but the uphills were another story, and we hiked a few steeper-than-not uphills. I made it to the village though, and the group settled in for the night in our huge bamboo hut while Dyo prepared our dinner. That first night we feasted on authentic Thai curries and fried grub worms, a delicacy. The thought of worms sounds unappealing, but they actually tasted like potato chips and were pretty yummy. I ate them by the handfuls.
After, we hung around, chatted, drank, and half of the group smoked opium. I wondered though if it was real opium or a watered-down version because the majority of those who smoked a few tokes claimed they didn’t feel any different. I decided it was probably just a waste of money. The local children also performed traditional song and dance for us. It was entertaining and enjoyable to watch, but then it was our turn to perform for them. We had nothing prepared and sang random snippets of songs because nobody knew all of the words to any popular songs. Needless to say, I don’t think they were overly impressed with our performance, but I think our willingness made up for our lack of talent.

The next morning, after breakfast, we set out on a two-hour hike. It was another long and tough one, but we made it to our first destination in good time. We stopped at a small village along the way for lunch and a dip in the nearby waterfall. The water, while refreshing, was absolutely freezing. It was almost unbearable, but after awhile my legs went numb and I could tolerate it for at least five minutes at a time. I brought down my face wash and shampoo to wash my hair because we had no access to showers during the entire trek. Though I felt clean immediately after exiting the waterfall, the walk back to the village was a dirty one. That has to be one of my contentions with Thailand. I never ever feel clean, and for someone who is OCD about cleanliness, it can be frustrating. As soon as you step out of the shower, you’re dirty already, whether it be from sand or walking around barefoot (which is required at many places) or simply from sweating in the heat.

After lunch at the village, it was an hour trek to reach the elephants. The elephant ride was the part I had been most excited for. The group mounted five elephants and set off into the jungle. It was a lot of fun, but our elephant was a bit lazy and kept stopping and eating. I don’t blame her – I’d be lazy too if I had to carry people on my back all day long in the midday heat. After dismounting the elephants, we walked for another hour to get to the Karen village where we holed up for the night. That night we relaxed around a campfire and I went to sleep early, exhausted from the long day.

We had breakfast late our last day, and then before we left for our last hike, Dyo informed us that there was a truck headed our way and we were more than welcome to ride in it to our last destination if we didn’t want to walk. Three people from the group opted to walk, while the rest of us lazy people chose to ride in the truck. It felt like a bit of a cop-out, but at that point, I honestly didn’t care to hike anymore. I was a bit disappointed in myself, but not disappointed enough to actually hike. The truck brought us to the river for our bamboo rafting. We rafted down the river in groups of four for about two hours. My group was ahead most of the time and our guide navigated us through some tricky rapids and tiny waterfalls easily. Anthony kept splashing us with water and then Sarah, another girl from my group, and I retaliated by throwing moss and algae. It turned into an all-out war with moss being flung in every direction while we all tried to balance on top of the bamboo raft. The guide even joined in the action. We ambushed the other groups as well as their rafts came around the corner and everyone ended up filthy, soaking wet, and panting from the excitement. We met up with our tuk-tuk at the end of the river to take us back to Chiang Mai. We had acquired three new people on the last day and they stuffed 13 of us into a tuk-tuk. It was a ridiculously uncomfortable ride.

That night we all met up for dinner together. We went to a restaurant named Duke’s, which served all Western food. I didn’t see a single Thai dish on the menu, which was a relief. I was so sick of eating Thai food day and night that it was nice not to even have it as an option. I chose to get a pizza for myself with pepperoni, pineapple, and mushroom and I scarfed down the entire thing. It was heavenly, especially because I’d been craving pizza basically since I got to the Thailand, but never actually had it until then.

Anthony and I took a full-day Thai cooking course the next day. It started with a tour of the local markets and an explanation of the various vegetables and spices that are used for cooking. Then we left for the cooking school where we learned a total of six Thai dishes including padthai, green curry, and stir-fry. I even learned how to set the wok on fire while cooking. The class was definitely one of the best experiences I’ve had in Thailand. Our teacher was excellent – she spoke very good English, was friendly, funny, and very helpful. I’ve decided that I’ll host a Thai food night when I get home just to see if I can cook all of the dishes again. The best part of the day was that we got to eat everything that we made. However, by the end of the course I was so loaded with food that I could do nothing but lay in bed for the rest of the night.

Bumming Around Thailand

2007-02-20T21:23:00.000+10:00

Top View Resort on Ko Lanta was our home for three days. We’d finally found a nice place to relax without any rats – always a plus. I spent one day on the beach, and the rest we just lazed around and drank fruit shakes. We took the ferry from Ko Lanta back to mainland Krabi on the fourth day. I’d booked us on flights from Krabi to Bangkok because they were fairly cheap and it would only take an hour travel time as opposed to 12-14 hours on a bus or train. Our ferry was supposed to leave Ko Lanta at 1:00pm (our flight was at 6:00), but the ferry didn’t even arrive until 1:45pm. It was typical Thailand. There’s normal time and then there’s Thai time. It’s instances like these that make me find Thailand so frustrating. Trying to do anything productive – making a phone call, using the internet, booking transport, finding accommodation – is a hassle (at least on the islands). There is a definite lack of efficiency and hospitality in the country, as well as every other person you come in contact with is trying to rip you off. I admire those who truly love Thailand and its people, but neither is particularly for me, and I’m comfortable admitting that. Perhaps I’m a snobbish Westerner but I expect a certain standard that Thailand just does not rise to. I’m sure I’m better for the experience but it’s not something I’d be willing to give another go anytime soon. You may think I’m just being shortsighted and close-minded, so why don’t you try it and we’ll discuss.

We finally made it to Krabi around 4:30 or so and took a cab straight to the airport. I’m always a bit wary of taxi drivers in Thailand, especially those who don’t actually drive taxis. Sometimes I think ordinary people come out and stand with the taxi drivers haggling for fares for a little extra pocket money. Anthony negotiated with one of the drivers to take us to the airport, and the man led us to his expensive-enough, leather interior Toyota Corolla without a hint of the word “taxi” anywhere on it. The entire time I kept wondering if he would actually take us to the airport, but in the end we arrived with plenty of time to spare.

The flight only took an hour to get to Bangkok. We tried to hail a cab to take us to the city center, but apparently the days of hailing cabs are over. All of the taxi companies seem to have linked together and now you have to buy a ticket in order to even get into a taxi. The taxis, despite having lit-up signs saying “Taxi-Meter,” are also not metered and charge you a set price to go to Bangkok. It seems many businesses in Thailand, from small-time padthai and pancake carts to taxi companies, formed a monopoly and negotiated to all have the same prices. Price differences are what drive competition and without price differences there is no competition. Isn’t there a law against that?

The taxi driver dropped us near the backpacker mecca, Khaosan Road, to look for a place to stay. I had made a tentative booking at a place called KS House, but it was nowhere in sight so we settled on the first place we spotted, Rainbow House. To our surprise, there were actually rooms available for a decent price. I was almost in shock – something was actually easy in Thailand. The man at the reception desk was also refreshingly nice and helpful, a novelty as of yet. Soon after dropping our bags in the room, Anthony and I left to check out Khaosan Road, which was littered with every type of product for sale, from fake pumas and diesel jeans to bootleg movies and music to padthai and fried rice, as well as every type of person. I loved the vibe of the place. It was nice to see so many people out and about, which was very unlike the island we’d just been on.

We grabbed some dinner on the street and then headed back to the room to get ready to go out that night. At around 12:15am, we ventured back to Khaosan Road. We went to an underground bar, Lava Bar, which played great music, and danced up a storm on the dance floor. After a bit, we decided we’d check out other places along the road and left. However, the next bar we came to denied our entrance, as did every other place after that. People were also streaming on to the street from everywhere. I asked a bouncer what was going on, why every place was closed at the early hour of 1:00am on a Saturday night. “The government says we have to,” he responded simply. I was wholly disappointed. Imagine a city as lively as Bangkok having to close at 1:00am on the weekend. I’m sure there were after-hour clubs that catered to those still wishing to party, but I didn’t particularly want to get into a tuk-tuk and trust him to take me where I was looking to go. I don’t know if the government regulations were recently imposed after the New Year’s Eve bombings or if it’s always been like that. Either way, my night was over and after a bit of ambling up and down Khaosan Road, we went back to our hotel.

Anthony and I only stayed in Bangkok for two days and two nights. Since we had stayed on Ko Lanta for extra days, we didn’t really have time to stay longer. I spent most of my time in Bangkok checking out the numerous goods lining the streets, but buying virtually nothing. I hate haggling and that’s what these markets call for. I like when the price is the price with no room for negotiation. It makes things simple and less stressful. Yes, it actually stresses me to haggle. I also spent the majority of my time buying various foods on the street. It’s not something I’d normally do, but when it’s all in front of your face, it’s hard to resist. It was like being at a carnival where there are zeppoles and funnel cakes and hot dogs for sale everywhere. Even if you aren’t hungry, your mouth waters at the thought. The second day we were in Bangkok, Anthony and I stopped at a padthai cart on the street for some lunch. We heard a siren and then heard the padthai lady say, “Sorry,” as she picked up her cart and ran with our padthai still cooking in her wok. We burst out laughing. It wasn’t as if the policeman was coming for her or even looking at her, but she took off down the street just the same, as did every other padthai and fruit seller. “Should we follow her?” I asked Anthony, and we started to walk in the direction she’d set off. We found her halfway up the block turned down a small driveway. She laughed, apologized, finished cooking our padthai, and gave us the food before turning around and running down the street again. I couldn’t help but laugh. I hadn’t seen one police officer ticket a food cart, but I guess it’s a possibility. At least we’d gotten the food before we’d completely lost sight of her.

The overnight bus that we booked ourselves onto from Bangkok to Chiang Mai of course left almost an hour late. Everyone I’d met had advised taking the train, as it can be a much more comfortable journey, but Anthony and I decided to save the 350 baht each and take the bus. Plus it saved us the trip to the train station. We were the last ones to get on the bus and ended up sitting all the way in the back on the seats that line the wall. They are the worst seats on the bus because they don’t recline and there isn’t much space. Also, when the people in the row in front put their seats back, their heads are practically in your lap. Anthony ended up moving to another seat, which someone had left vacant when they went to the downstairs of the bus, and I had three seats to myself to sprawl out on. Despite having ample room, I slept little. The bus was like an icebox. I don’t understand why they find the need to keep the air-conditioning on so high. I had scored a blanket from an empty seat, but it was only big enough to cover a small child. If I angled it right and curled up into as tight a ball as possible with my head down, only then could I fully cover my freezing body, though I was still cold because the blanket was thin with holes in it.

The bus arrived in Chiang Mai a little after 7:00 in the morning. I was surprised at the efficiency of the bus company. They had taxis ready and waiting to take us to the city center for free. Our taxi took us to one of the hostels and we decided to book in there to save the annoyance of looking elsewhere. The man in charge pushed the trekking angle so hard, and added that we’d get a night free as well as a discount when we returned from the trek, that Anthony and I signed up for it. I had not intended whatsoever to do any trekking, but it sounded like a lot of fun, and I really wanted to come away with a nice memory of my time in Thailand. We leave for our three-day, two-night trek tomorrow and hopefully it’ll be everything I’m hoping for. Somehow I doubt it.

Mishap After Mishap

2007-02-15T18:03:00.000+10:00

The ferry ride from Phuket to Phi Phi left a half hour late and took an hour longer than it should have. Anthony and I didn’t get to Phi Phi until 5pm. We scoured the island for accommodation along with the rest of the people on our ferry but had no luck finding a place. The entire island was booked solid and a “Full” sign stood at every reception counter. After we’d exhausted every option, a tout approached me and asked if I needed a room. “How much?” I asked. “4,000 baht,” he replied slyly. Are you out of your mind? I thought. I vigorously shook my head no. “Only 2,000 each,” he encouraged. “Not a chance,” I responded. I wasn’t falling for that trap and paying an exorbitant amount of money for anything. The island people feel they can charge whatever they want because desperate people will pay. I’d rather be homeless than ripped off. Turns out we were homeless for the night. We got some Thai pancakes (fantastic by the way), ate them on the side of the road like paupers, and then headed to the beach to set up camp. It was the first time in my life I slept on a beach. We spread out Anthony’s sleeping bag, locked and secured our belongings, and settled in for the night. Anthony was a bit worried about our bags but once the sun went down you couldn’t even see us laying on the beach unless you were about to step on us. It’s kind of hard to rob what you can’t see. We treated ourselves to pizza and a few beers with the money we saved and made the best of the situation. Sleeping on the sand was fairly comfortable and it sure beat paying 4,000 baht for a room.

When we woke early the next morning, we set out in search of accommodation and got a beach bungalow on our first try. We stayed in a bamboo hut with a hammock right on the beach and only a stone’s throw from the water – it was true Thai living. We were only going to spend a night but decided to stay two. I couldn’t be bothered packing my stuff up again and I quite enjoyed being lazy on the beach for a few days.

Our second night we headed out to grab some dinner and then went to the Reggae Bar, which hosts a Thai boxing competition. They have a proper ring in the back of the bar and from 10:30pm on any two people can fight each other (and get a free bucket of alcohol in the process). The bar provides gloves, headgear, and shorts and lets the people go at it. It’s actually really funny to watch two inexperienced (sometimes drunk) people try and kick the crap out of each other. There were even a few girls who got up and fought. It was amusing to watch the girls because when one got a really good punch in you could see them apologize though that’s the whole point – to get a good punch in. It’s so different than they guys who hit as hard as they can with no sorries whatsoever. At one point, two real Thai boxers got in the ring and brutally went at each other. I’m sure most of it was staged like WWF, but it was entertaining to watch their quick feet and movements. After we’d taken in enough fighting, we headed to Carlito’s Bar to dance. Unfortunately after only two songs we had to leave because I stepped on broken glass and had a gash in my foot. I was at least wearing flip-flops. There were tons of barefoot people dancing around, and the cut would have been a lot worse had I been barefoot as well.

The next morning, we went to breakfast at a small, nearby restaurant. Something very strange was going on. Soon after we sat down and ordered, the waiter began turning people away. Everything seemed very dysfunctional, not that Thai service is by any means stellar, but this was exceptionally bad; meals were coming out one at a time and ending up on the wrong tables; the people across from us only got two out of four of their dishes; the waiter served our coffee and never came back until 45 minutes later when he asked if we wanted our check. “But we didn’t even get our food,” we said in confused unison. He had a puzzled look on his face and we realized he had never even put in our order. More people kept streaming into the restaurant, sitting down without being acknowledged, and then leaving completely annoyed. Anthony and I kept wondering what the hell was going on. We chatted to the guys next to us and advised they go elsewhere for breakfast. “Everything’s closed because of the fire,” one of them explained. “What fire?” we asked. “You didn’t hear? The Apache Bar went up in flames and took down seven other buildings before they put it out.” This happened away from where were staying and we had heard nothing of it until then. All of the locals (including the kitchen hands at the restaurant) had gone to help put out he first because the island lacked any sort of fire brigade. That explained why the place was so out of sorts – they had no one working. I don’t believe anyone was killed, but we didn’t hear anything else about the fire after that. The island went on as if nothing had happened. We walked down to the spot that night to see the damage. A whole row of stores was absolutely gutted and debris was strewn all over the street and beach. The livelihoods of some locals went up in flames that day, but the vacationers on the island went about their business as usual. It was an odd situation, and we were hard-pressed to procure any other details of the event.

Anthony and I arrived in Ko Lanta the next day, an island an hour and a half by ferry from Phi Phi, without any booked accommodation. We caught a ride with a man transporting another couple who offered to take us to Long Beach, a place we decided to go by chance, for free. The day started exactly as Phi Phi had, with every place completely booked, and I feared we again wouldn’t find a room. You would think that we would have booked a place after what happened on Phi Phi but some people never learn. The last place we came to on the beach, Deep Forest Bungalows, not only had a room but it was only 300 baht a night. We should have realized something wasn’t right if this place was four times less than everywhere else and was almost empty.

We hung out on the beach that day and then went for dinner that night. When we came back from dinner and started walking up the path toward our room, three mangy dogs that live at the bungalows ran toward us growling and barking. I jumped behind Anthony, totally afraid. I’m not usually one to fear dogs but when three of them circle you and growl, it’s a bit unnerving. Plus you never can tell what animals will do, especially virtually wild ones. Anthony stood his ground and started to walk away with me in tow, but then they went for my legs and scratched me as I walked away. I screamed and the employees came running for the dogs. I was not happy at all. Customers at an establishment shouldn’t be afraid of being attacked during their stay. What if the employees hadn’t been there to call them off? When we left the room a second time the dogs ran up to us again snarling, but the owner pulled them away. “Keep those dogs away from me,” I warned, probably only loud enough for Anthony to hear. I was tempted to head straight back to the room but I was annoyed at the thought of being cooped up for fear of being mauled so we hung out in the bar area for a bit instead. We headed back a little later, totally unprepared for the night that lay ahead of us.

When we got back to the room, I noticed my soap was on the floor, all dirty with sand. “Anthony,” I whined, “did you knock my soap over and just leave it on the floor? It’s all gross now.” “No I didn’t touch your soap,” he protested. Then I turned it over and saw the bite marks. Anthony saw them too and ordered me to drop it. “Rats,” he explained. “Throw it out and watch your hands.” I also used antiseptic hand wipes just in case, but I still felt dirty. Rats carry disease and I didn’t want to touch anything they had been near. I was totally skeeved that the place we were staying had rats in the first place, which isn’t uncommon for bamboo huts, but that they had been in the room as well. The roof of the hut was open and vulnerable to vermin except for a thin netting, which had a hole anyway. I put away all of my stuff in my bag, leaving all of the shower products the rat may have come in contact with in the bathroom. We threw my soap and soap dish outside, away from the hut. Anthony and I spread the mosquito net over the bed and sat in the middle listening to music with the lights on to take our minds off what happened and what might happen. Eventually we both fell asleep but awoke to a sharp sound on the roof. We watched the room intently, wide-eyed, for any sign of rats. We didn’t have to watch for long. We heard a noise and then saw two rats dart up the doorframe of the bathroom. We both screamed at the sight; mine high-pitched; Anthony’s a low yell. I was absolutely disgusted. I’ve seen rats before in subways in NY, but never in such close proximity and never in my room. We both sat fixed to the bed, eyes riveted to the spot where we’d seen them, and waited. We heard the sounds of them running along the ceiling and rafters. A half hour passed though it seemed like only minutes. I refused to look any longer and put one earphone in to block out the sounds. I knew Anthony could see more by the look on his face, and he sat clapping and kicking the wall to keep them from the bed. After we spotted two more of the dirty creatures under the doorframe, it was time to leave. Anthony shoved the door open and was met by the bartender who’d come to check on what all the commotion was. Anthony explained the situation to the unsurprised barman. Apparently this was a nightly occurrence in the place. He probably thought it strange that we’d freaked about the rats – he most likely grew up in those conditions but it wasn’t something we were used to.

Anthony threw our bags on the bed, grabbed two blankets and a pillow and we headed to the beach to sleep – for a second time. We sat in two beach chairs by the shore and tried to get some rest. I was too shaken to actually sleep, but at least now I was listening to sounds of waves rather than sounds of scurrying feet. We moved to the hammocks thinking it’d be more comfortable, but still the image of the rats played on my mind and I slept little.

We headed out around 10am the next morning in the already-blazing sun to find another place to stay. We found accommodation a few doors down and after thoroughly inspecting the room took it for that night. Anything was better than where we had been. While checking out, we spoke to another couple that had stayed at Deep Forest Bungalows that night, and they’d had the same problem. “I slept ok,” the guy said, implying his girlfriend had not. “We have rats in Berlin so I’m not scared of them. They chewed through our clothes though, which sucks when you only have three shirts to wear.” I almost laughed at that last part. At least we weren’t the only ones who had a problem; we were just the only ones who opted to sleep elsewhere. The whole experience really put a damper on Thailand for me. Asia hasn’t been my favorite place so far and it keeps falling lower and lower by day in my estimation. I suppose I’m just used to a higher standard of living and am not used to dealing with bedbugs, wild dogs, and rats on a daily basis.

Our second day we rented a motorbike and headed down to Kantiang Bay to meet up with Anthony’s sister. Motorbikes are the main mode of the transportation on the island, and it was startling to see how young some of the drivers were and how unsafe the conditions. While driving I spotted a child no older than nine or ten jump on a bike with two other smaller children clambering on behind him. I also saw whole families, including babies, on one bike. Most people don’t even wear helmets. I enjoyed riding on the back of the bike and listening to the wind rush past my ears. Anthony’s been riding motorbikes since he was 16 so I trusted him, but I was a bit wary of the other drivers. It was amazing how lawless the roads were. People turned two lanes of traffic into four, and tailgating was standard practice.

We made it to Kantiang Bay safely. We were originally going to head down to Kantiang Bay from the start, but it was so far away from where the ferry landed that we decided against it. I wish we had gone straight there. It was absolutely gorgeous and exuded a very laid back vibe. Anthony and I decided we’d stay in Ko Lanta an extra night and would head down to Kantiang Bay the next day. We negotiated with one of the places to have them pick us up from where we’d been staying and bring us down. It was the third place in three nights that we stayed. I was tired of moving around so much, but agreed that staying in Kantiang Bay was a much better idea than holing up in Long Beach. The last place we stayed was Top View Resort, high up on the mountains with a fantastic view of the surroundings and the sunset. It was the type of place that brings people to Thailand in hordes, and we appreciated it even more having experienced the low end of Thailand first.

Anthony’s sister asked that he teach her to ride a motorbike because she was planning on staying in Thailand for six months and would need to learn eventually in order to get around. He insisted that I try getting on the bike also. I said no but then conceded. It was a disaster. I’d never ridden a bike before, and it was a manual. Luckily I wasn’t on a road when I got on, just in a driveway. I was able to get it started and into first, but once I started to go, I got scared and squeezed tight on the handles, which only made it go faster. I drove into a patch of vines and then grabbed the front brake causing the bike to jerk to a stop and then fall over. I wasn’t hurt and the bike wasn’t damaged, but I vowed never to get on again. I’d happily sit on the back of the bike for hours, but I’m not comfortable enough taking the reins nor am I confident enough to try again. I think I’ll stick with passenger status from now on.

Islands and Other Stuff

2007-02-08T19:44:00.000+10:00

My first day in Phi Phi got off to a rocky start. I had taken an overnight bus from KL to Hat Yai, a minivan from Hat Yai to Krabi, and a ferry from Krabi to Phi Phi. I was absolutely exhausted when I arrived because I hadn’t slept much on the bus. I thought I would because the seats were exceptionally comfortable and they gave us blankets, but I had a major headache and the bus stopped frequently. I was woken up at 4:30am to wait in line for customs out of Malaysia and then again for customs into Thailand. After that I couldn’t do much but doze in and out. I couldn’t sleep from Hat Yai to Krabi either because I was squished into a minivan with 12 other people. I eventually gave up trying to sleep and just figured I’d head to bed early that night.

I have to get myself into the swing of baht. I’m so used to thinking in dollars that are almost 1 to 1 to US dollars that it’s hard to grasp how much I’m actually spending in Thailand. On my van ride to Krabi we stopped at a food court, and I spent 33 baht on two drinks. At first I thought, “Whoa 33 baht, that’s a lot” but then realized I was still thinking dollars. Yes, 33 dollars is a lot to spend on two drinks, but 33 baht is not. To put it into perspective, 33 baht is less than 1 US dollar. I don’t like when a country’s currency is based on 100’s and not on 1’s. I find it confusing. It’s like the lire in Italy where something ridiculous like 1,500 lire equals 1 US dollar. If they’d just drop all of the 0’s, it’d be a lot easier.

When I walked off the pier on Phi Phi Island, a man called out to me about accommodation so I looked at him to respond and not at where I was going, and slipped and fell on a wet spot. I went down like a log. I was carrying my huge backpack, my small backpack, and my purse at a grand total of about 65lbs. I hit my face on the way down, and it put me in an even worse mood that I already was.

I had to walk a ways until I found a cheap place to stay on the island. Every tout told me I wouldn’t find a place for my price, but I persisted until I got to Rock Backpackers, which was 250 baht a night, cheap compared to the upwards of 700 baht everywhere else was charging. I stayed in a 16-person dorm, but I’m used to that so I wasn’t bothered. However, the bed was the hardest bed I’ve ever slept on – it must have been named Rock Backpackers for “rock-hard” beds. I think prison beds are probably softer. I slept soundly my first night though. I only woke up at 3am because my dorm mates were screaming and singing but I fell right back asleep.

I bought some phone cards when I got to Phi Phi but no one could explain how to use them. I ended up dialing the same wrong numbers over and over until I figured out the right way. I even dialed the help line but the customer service rep told me I was dialing correctly and to keep trying. I finally realized (all by myself) I had to drop the 0’s to complete the call. Some help he was.

I headed to the beach the next day for some R&R. I’d been so worn out from traveling and staying in places no longer than 3 or 4 days that I just wanted to hang out and do nothing. There was nothing much to do on the island but go to the beach anyhow so it fit well with my plan. I stayed at the beach for hours and hours alternating between my beach chair and the water that day. The beach was nice but I’ve seen nicer. I was expecting the sand to be made out of gold granules the way people go on about Thai beaches.

My second night I slept absolutely terribly. It was the night before the Superbowl, which aired in Thailand at 6am, so a bunch of my roommates had the brilliant idea to sit up and drink all night and then watch the game. I was woken up at 3am by them yelling, blasting music, and banging the door on the way in and the way out of the room to rouse the other dorm mates. I was furious because they didn’t shut up until 6am when they finally left to watch the game. I only slept for a few hours here and there and woke up with a headache. I went to the beach at 10am after being woken up again by the sound of them returning after the game was over, still drunk and screaming. There were only two who were American so I don’t see why they cared at all about the Super bowl in the first place. It was just another excuse to get drunk, not that they needed one anyway. They were drunk constantly.

At least I had a nice day at the beach slowly regaining the tan I’d steadily lost since I left Australia. I hung out with a girl, Hila, from my hostel for most of the day. Her immodesty amazed me. Tons of women lay topless on the beach, which isn’t a shock, but Hila chose to lounge topless as well as wear a thong bikini. She was practically naked except for a small triangle of lycra. There were a few other women on the beach sporting the same get-up, but I just thought it was so strange how she stripped and thought nothing of it. I’ve laid topless on a beach before (in France not in NY) but I’d never be so ballsy to lose half my bottom as well. I gradually got used to her lying virtually naked beside me but at first I didn’t know where to look when she spoke to me. It was one of those situations where you try to look everywhere else but right in front of you making it obvious that you’re looking everywhere else. I’m used to seeing breasts – my own – so having someone else’s staring you straight in the face is a bit disconcerting at first. I probably wouldn’t last long at a nudist colony. I’d be continuously staring at the sky. I suppose it’s just the culture I was raised in. Americans are so conservative when it comes to displaying the human body. The Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show had been banned from TV for being too racy for God’s sake. And those women are fully clothed compared to the women on TV in everyday programs in other countries. I’m not saying naked people should be all over all the time, but the naked form never hurt anyone when displayed tastefully. At least if we were more exposed to it, it’d prevent others from easily spotting American guys on a topless beach – they’re the only ones gawking.

After my dinner of authentic padthai that night, which I only dub authentic because I’m in Thailand, I was in the mood for chocolate so I headed to 7-11. Yes, they have 7-11’s on islands in Thailand – you just can’t get away from them. I settled on a Thai chocolate bar with almonds. It was hands-down the worst chocolate I’ve ever tasted. I guess the words “Chocolate Flavoured Confectionary” on the box should have tipped me off that it wouldn’t be very good. I usually like to go with local brands because they’re cheaper, and I like to sample the local goods and not just stick to what I’m used to. But from now on when it comes to chocolate, I’m going with Cadbury or Hershey.

I took the ferry from Phi Phi yesterday to Phuket. I’ve been noticing a strange phenomenon since I’ve been traveling and even more since I got to Thailand. This phenomenon – the mohawk/mullet or mullhawk if you will - was in full force on the ferry as well. It seems to be big among those of the European and Australian persuasion, and I want to know whose accidentally botched haircut spawned what is now considered fashionable. The look is short (almost buzzed) on the sides with long hair on top pointing straight out and almost a tail in the back. It’s absolutely hideous. Who thought that combing two of the all-time worst haircuts would produce something wearable?

Expenses, Expenses

2007-02-04T13:19:00.000+10:00

I'm not going to be blogging for a little while so don't get yourselves in a tizzy. I'm currently on Phi Phi Island in Thailand and the internet is ridiculously expensive, as is using the phone. It's as if they don't want you to stay connected. Anyhow, I'll most likely post when I reach a place with some decent prices (who knows when that'll be in Thailand) and then I'll give you a nice long blog post to read.

Strange People, Strange Place

2007-02-02T19:31:00.000+10:00

I’m leaving KL for Thailand tonight, and I have to say I’m happy to be going. Yesterday, I walked all around the city seeing the sights. I walked for hours and saw Central Market, Dataran Merdeka (Freedom Square), Petaling Street, KL Tower, and the Petronas Twin Towers. I walked more than I had in months (mostly because I was lost half the time), and I was tired and filthy by the time I got back to the hostel. KL isn’t the cleanest of cities nor is it a place to walk in peace. I was catcalled, ushered toward a taxi, or asked to buy whatever goods were on the street three times per block. It was more of an annoyance walking around the city than a pleasure. If I ever come back, I’m going to wear a sign that says “NO…I don’t want ANYTHING!”

I have to admit I really wasn’t a fan of my roommates in KL, which put sort of a damper on the city as a whole. When traveling alone, the people you meet along the way can really make or break the experience. I met one of them my first night, a girl from Australia, who talked my ear off for over an hour, and the fact that I couldn’t stand her accent didn’t help matters. I barely said more than “uh-huh” and “mmm” the entire time. I had to finally, visibly, place my earphones in my ears for her to stop talking to me. Even then, she just couldn’t help herself and continued on, forcing me to remove my earphones so I could respond. I tried saying “Good Night,” aka end of conversation, but to no avail. After a bit, I think she finally got tired of hearing herself talk or else she wore herself out and left me in peace.

I didn’t get to meet my other roommate, an Indian man, until 4pm yesterday when he finally decided to roll out of bed. He was on my shit list before I even met him because trying to change and maneuver in our tiny room was frustrating without any light source whatsoever (there are no windows), and because he was still sleeping, I felt bad flicking on the light though it was 11:30am. I wanted to yell at him “wake up, lazy ass.” I finally did turn on the light because dressing in complete darkness is impossible. I left soon after and when I returned he had just gotten out of bed. He seemed nice enough until he started hardcore hitting on me. He asked for my email and phone number (though I don’t have a phone) within the first two minutes of meeting me. He then asked for a pen and proceeded to write down every piece of his contact information – name, phone number, email, address (just kidding; he didn’t give me his address). Then he asked me what I was doing the rest of the night, invited me out with him and his brother (he wanted me to meet his family already), expressed pity that I was leaving the next day because he would have liked to show me Malaysia and take me to dinner – all within the span of ten minutes. I’m surprised he didn’t ask me to marry him; maybe he was saving that question for after he’d known me at least an hour. Thankfully, after a moment of complete awkwardness, he trotted off to have dinner with his brother. Men in Malaysia have been exceptionally forward, bordering on harassment, and he was no different. I made a point to avoid him during the rest of my time in KL.

I unfortunately saw my Australian roommate again last night. I was hoping she wouldn’t be there when I got to the room, but what can you do when you share a dorm. I immediately buried my face in my book to avoid any chit-chat or in her case, lengthy conversation. It worked for about five minutes and then she unleashed her mouth on me. I felt like saying, “Do you not see me reading? Take a hint.” I tried to keep my attention focused on “Angela’s Ashes” as she blabbered on hoping she’d get the point, but she roped me into another half-hour of nods and uh-huhs. After a sweet, but brief, silence she said, “So I’ll turn the light off now?” which was said more as a statement disguised as a question than an actual question. I was still obviously reading. Was I supposed to pause mid-sentence, place my bookmark on the page, and go to sleep because she wanted the light off? Had she never stayed in a dorm before? There are certain unspoken rules of etiquette like “Don’t turn off the light when you’re roommate is still reading!!!” “Um, can you wait?” I responded rather curtly. “But it’s after midnight,” she said snottily. I almost laughed. Did her parents tell her not to stay up past 12 or something? “I only have five pages left,” I said. She huffed and buried her face in her pillow. Maybe she was mad at me for trying to exit the conversation at every opportunity. I read two pages, placed my bookmark on the page, and left the room more baffled than bothered by the incident. I was going to leave the light on when I left just to be a jerk but decided against it and flicked it off on my way out. I’m happy I’ll have no more nights in that hostel.

Goodbye Singapore

2007-01-31T19:28:00.000+10:00

On Monday night, a group of us from the hostel went on Singapore Zoo’s Night Safari. We took a tram ride around the park and observed everything from elephants to leopards to lions. They were interesting to see up close but the tram seemed to whiz by most of the animals so fast that once I finally made out where the animal was, it was already past me. We also went to a “Creatures of the Night” show that included all little critters such as otters, raccoons, and snakes. The funniest thing to watch was an otter recycling. The host dumped all plastic, tin, and paper bottles and cups on the floor and the otter picked them up and put them in the correct recycling bin, or was supposed to anyway. He kept putting every piece of litter into the bin marked “Tin.” It was really cute.

After the show we all got free Ben & Jerry’s because a passing woman offered us her coupons. She probably felt sorry because the 7 of us were sharing one waffle cone (no ice cream, just a waffle cone.) It must have been a pathetic sight. She gave us four coupons, but we managed to get eight free ice cream cones out of the them – ah, the things you do for free stuff when you’re backpacking.

Thankfully, I haven’t gotten any more bites…that I’m aware of. I already have so many that I probably wouldn’t notice a few more anyhow. I’m hoping that will be my only bout with bedbugs though it’s a highly unlikely wish. They are starting to heal and aren’t as noticeable, but I now perpetually smell of menthol and insect repellant – not particularly pleasing to the olfactory organs – but you gotta do what you gotta do.

I went on a guided walk around Little India yesterday and our first stop was an elaborate Hindu temple. I had to put on a robe to even enter and of course, no footwear was allowed either. The temple was intricately designed and had two beautiful hanging chandeliers. I always find temples quite peaceful and apparently so do the patrons because half of them were asleep on the floor. On our walk toward two more temples in the center of town, we passed a huge laughing Buddha. You’re supposed to rub his belly, shoulders, back, and head for good luck and then stick your hands in your pockets to transfer the luck to yourself. I made sure to rub all good luck parts except for his head because I couldn’t reach it.

The first temple we came to in the city center was a Hindu temple where we watched part of a ceremony taking place. The second temple was the Temple of the Goddess of Mercy, which is known for its fortune telling capabilities. You’re supposed to shake a canister full of sticks until just one stick falls out. Then you throw these two things that look like red lips on the floor until you get a ying and yang (until they are facing the opposite way). After you bring your stick to the desk, they give you your fortune. I realized as the man handed me the slip of paper that I hadn’t even asked a question about my future. I had gotten so caught up in shaking the canister that I’d completely forgotten to focus on a question. Nevertheless, my fortune turned out to be good and bad. It predicted that things would change at a later date that would prove more lucky and promising. However, I was also told that travelers will face difficulties and it won’t be easy to find the missing. Maybe I’m an extremist but I interpret that as I’m going to die and no one will find my body. It could also mean that I’ll lose a sock and I’ll forever only have one half of the pair. I don’t know how much I believe in fortunes anyway. I love the idea of them but I don’t know how much I buy into it. My skepticism doesn’t stop me though from hitting up fortune tellers, tarot card readers, and palm readers at every opportunity. By the way, Michelle, you’re going to have a girl – my fortune said so; unless it meant that I’m going to have a girl. Either way, a girl will be born.

I sampled some local ice cream after learning of my bad luck. Our guide suggested we try Durian, a local flavor, so I took her up on that suggestion. It was obviously a cruel joke because Durian is one of the foulest tastes I’ve ever come in contact with. The smell alone is enough of a deterrent to keep you away forever, nevermind the taste. I ended up throwing it out. I should have just gone with my old standby, mint chocolate chip. It never disappoints.

I took a bus from Singapore to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia this morning. It was the only bus I’ve ever been on that left exactly on time. 9:00am on the dot, we pulled out of the bus station. Actually, it was 8:59am. Singaporeans are so efficient. They even gave me a bottle of water upon check-in. Now that is service.

The seats on the bus couldn’t have been any nicer. They were roomy, had plenty of leg room, reclined, and had footrests. It was like sitting in first class on an airplane. The bus’s only downfall was that it lacked a toilet and undoubtedly once I noticed this omission I had to pee immediately. We stopped not longer after to have our passports stamped and I was able to relieve myself. I was careful not to drink too much after because I didn’t know how many more stops we’d make during the 7-hour bus ride.

The bus stopped for customs and immigration on our way out of Singapore and on our way in to Malaysia. The customs officer in Singapore asked me if I was coming back to Singapore. I said “no” but as I walked away I wondered if she meant “ever” as in “Are you ever coming back to Singapore?” or in other words “Did you like Singapore enough to visit us again?” I had said “no” rather firmly and I wonder if my admission that I would not be returning was an insult.

I arrived in Malaysia today around 4:30 and found my hostel quickly. It was right across from the bus station. The Let’s Go guide had highly recommended the hostel I booked myself into, Pudu Hostel, but I cannot for the life of me see why. The place is an absolute dump and I decided to stay only two nights in KL instead of the three I was planning on. My four-person dorm is the size of a shoebox, and I don’t even want to go near the mattress, nevermind sleep on it. I suppose I’ll cram all of my sightseeing in tomorrow and then hightail it to Thailand.

Singapore Sightseeing

2007-01-29T15:02:00.000+10:00

On Saturday, Claire, a girl I met at the hostel, and me took a sightseeing walk around the city. We first went to Sim Lim Square, an electronics mecca. It was five floors of gadget heaven. Unfortunately, I have all the electronics I need and can carry, not to mention I’m far from a gadget geek, so the place didn’t really do much for me. We then headed toward Bugis Street Markets where they sell all sorts of cheap goods. I refrained from buying anything as my backpack is already bursting and I’m saving what little space I have left for Thai goods. After, we made our way to world-renowned Raffles Hotel in the heart of the colonial district. The hotel dates back to the 19th century and was declared a national monument in the 20th century. The Long Bar within the hotel is famous for its cocktail, the Singapore Sling, but being on a backpacker’s budget I decided to save the upwards of S$20 that it would cost for one drink and just look at the bar instead.

That night, Claire, Clionagh, and I headed to Chinatown for the Chinese New Year kick-off celebration. The streets were littered with people and tons of lights. At one point, they set off firecrackers unexpectedly and at first I thought someone had opened fire on the crowd until I realized what it was. The firecrackers were followed by fireworks and dancing dragons. It was fantastic to watch. The Chinese New Year is celebrated for the entire month of February so I’m excited to experience New Year’s festivities in the different Asian countries I’ll be visiting.

Yesterday, I went for another walk around the city down in Chinatown and checked out a Hindu temple and a Buddhist temple. I wasn’t overly impressed with either, especially the Hindu temple because they made you pay to take pictures. I also felt somewhat strange entering temples that weren’t of my faith. It was as if I was intruding on the ceremonies of others.

Last night, I decided to join a few of my fellow hostellers for a bbq at a bar nearby. It was an all-you-can-eat buffet for S$6, which is a great price, but I didn’t particularly like the food so it was more of an all-you-can-tolerate buffet. The menu included chicken wings, two kinds of fish, a horrendous excuse for a hotdog, and vegetable curry with rice. The curry actually was decent but it was missing something – meat. Afterwards, we all went back to the hostel and watched a terrible bootleg version of “Pirates of the Caribbean.” You know it’s not going to be good when you have Disc A and Disc B for an hour and a half movie.

I woke up this morning extremely itchy, even worse so than I’ve been for the past few days, and went straight to a mirror. I counted 19, yes 19, bites on my neck, face, and forehead and ran down to reception. She confirmed my suspicion that it was bedbugs. I also have a few mosquito bites on my arms and legs, so I wasn’t sure if they were just mosquito bites or bedbugs but the pattern suggested bedbugs. The hostel moved me to another bed and sprayed down the room with disinfectant. Usually people carry bedbugs in their bags and transport them from place to place, which is why the hostel insists that no bags be kept near the beds, but obviously they got here somehow. I think I’m having an allergic reaction to the bites because they don’t just look like normal bites, they look like welts on my skin – itchy, disgusting welts.

Bedbugs can’t sustain heat so I took my pack outside wrapped in a garbage bag and am letting it sit in the sun for a few hours. The hostel is also washing and drying my clothes because my laundry bag was near the bed. There’s really nothing you can do for the bites except use Tiger Balm (the best cure-all) to assuage the itch. Getting bitten isn’t the most fun thing in the world, but it is a fact of hostels – they have bedbugs, even the cleanest ones. Hey, at least I get my laundry done for free.

Touchdown in Singapore

2007-01-27T18:23:00.000+10:00

The last few days I spent in Darwin coping as best I could with the heat. It actually wasn’t as unbearable as I thought it would be, but it was a little hotter than my comfort zone tolerates. I spent the days hanging out in the hostel pool and relaxing. I couldn’t muster the energy for sightseeing nor did I really want to. I was content to lay low after my extremely busy days in Cairns. I figured I needed a rest before heading to Singapore anyhow.

Luckily I called Garuda International Airlines the day before my departure to Singapore to reconfirm because my flight had been changed from an early, but doable, 9:00am to a seriously early 7:30am. I was up at 4:30am to get myself together for my 5:30am taxi. Waking up at the God-awful hour of 4:30 to the sounds of revelers from the night before still partying on the streets isn’t pleasant, especially when I only got 2 hours of sleep. Nevertheless, the first leg of my trip from Darwin to Bali was enjoyable enough because I had an entire row to myself to stretch across. I wasn’t able to sleep though because I couldn’t listen to music and find a comfortable position to lie in. I want to invent an earphone pillow. It’ll be a pillow with a dent or hole in the middle where you rest your ear comfortably without the earphone jamming into it. I’d take that pillow everywhere.

I thought my layover in Bali wasn’t going to be too long until I realized that upon landing I had to set my watch back an hour and half making my layover almost 6 hours. I spent most of my time seat-hopping and wandering around checking out the numerous shops. I tried to stretch across a few seats to rest but I kept picturing the more-than-there-should-have-been-amount of roaches I’d seen crawling all over the airport, and I kept thinking they were on me. I sat up at one point to adjust the bag I was using as a headrest in time to see a roach crawl from beneath it. I tried to squash it with my shoe but the dirty little bug hid in a crevice where I couldn’t reach it. It must have known death was near. No matter, I was up and on to the next seat anyway. I started to think that maybe I wouldn’t like Asia so much. I do prefer a high level of cleanliness that I don’t think Asia’s standards are quite up to, but I’ll see how it goes.

I found an unoccupied bench and decided I’d try to rest again banishing any thoughts of roaches from my mind. I was lying quite peacefully enjoying my music when a girl sat on the empty seat next to my feet and her boyfriend plopped down next to her basically on my feet. There were empty seats all over the airport but apparently they felt the need to annoy the one quietly resting person – me – by sitting right on top of me and fidgeting constantly causing the whole bench to jerk back and forth. I was seriously vexed and after 20 minutes of being jarred back and forth unnecessarily I was going to say something but alas their flight was thankfully announced and they left me to my bench again.

On my flight from Bali to Singapore I was lucky to have the row to myself – the seat gods must have been with me. This time I decided to forgo listening to music in favor of sleep. I was out as soon as I finished lunch and only woke up when the landing announcement came over the speaker. After a long airport shuttle ride, I finally made it to my hostel. The hostel seems nice enough and the staff friendly, but like Singapore itself, they boast some strict rules like ‘no shoes allowed upstairs’ and ‘luggage cannot be kept near the bed but rather in the luggage rack.’ However, it does have free breakfast and internet so I don’t mind it’s unusual quirks. I almost motivated myself to venture outside my hostel last night for dinner but I fell asleep instead at 8:00pm and didn’t wake until 9:30 this morning. I was just too tired and comfortable to move.

Rainforests and Reefs

2007-01-23T08:32:00.000+10:00

I arrived in Cairns a few days ago after taking my last overnight bus across the Australian coast. As Cairns is farther north than anywhere I’ve been, it’s also far hotter than anything I’ve experienced so far. I’ve been trying to stay in the air-conditioning as much as possible because as soon as I step outside, I’m sweating. Even if I’m not moving a muscle, I’m sweating. It’ll be even worse I’m told when I land in Darwin today.

Two days after I arrived I decided to take the Kuranda sky rail up to the village of Kuranda and the scenic railway back down. Anthony, my travel buddy in Cairns, and I saw some beautiful scenery both ways. While the scenery was something to look at, I could have done without the visit to Kuranda. We had taken the 9:45 sky rail up and were supposed to take the 3:30 train back down, but we opted to leave early and caught the 2:00 train instead. Kuranda was a cute little town with tons of shops and markets, but there really wasn’t a whole lot to do to keep us occupied for hours and hours.

The day after we visited Kuranda, we headed out early in the morning for our Cape Tribulation trip. The trip wandered along the coast from Cairns to Cape Tribulation stopping first at Mossman Gorge. Then we headed toward the World Heritage Daintree rainforest for a guided walk through the area. We stopped briefly for a swim in the world’s second most pristine river. The water was cool and refreshing but the current was strong so we had to stick to certain areas. Anthony and I swam as far as we could into the current and then let it carry us back down to where we started. I was actually really tired from the exertion. I felt like I was swimming in one of those simulated current exercise pools, where you swim and swim but don’t move an inch. We also took a Daintree River Cruise and spotted crocodiles, flying foxes, snakes, and native birds in their natural environment. It was really exciting to see a crocodile just floating in the water undisturbed by our presence. The day also included lunch and a stop at the remote Daintree Ice Cream Company that sold unheard of flavors such as black sapote and wattleseed. After, we were dropped at our accommodation in Cape Tribulation.

The next day we went on the boat, Rumrunner, for our Great Barrier Reef tour. Though I’ve already scuba dived and wasn’t keen to do it again, Anthony is a certified diver, so I just snorkeled on the reef. The Rumrunner tour operating out of Cape Tribulation is one of the best tours of the Great Barrier Reef because they are one of only two tour boats that are licensed for the area. Therefore, where we set out is a less traveled and trampled area of the reef. Though I didn’t see as much marine life as when I was in the Whitsundays, the coral off the coast of Cape Tribulation was absolutely amazing. The colors were so vivid and varied; it looked like someone colored the coral with crayons. The first time I went out snorkeling I chose not to wear a wetsuit but I soon regretted it after entering the water. It’s stinger season in the waters, but I was assured that the chances of being stung were 1 in 135,000 so I decided to wear a bathing suit only. I like the freedom of not wearing a wetsuit. However, soon after entering the water I started to feel little pricks and stings all over my body. I freaked and headed back to the boat convinced I was dying of a jellyfish sting. One of the crewmembers told me that I would KNOW if it was a jellyfish, as the pain would be unbearable, and it was probably just sea lice or some other parasites taking a nip or two. When I snorkeled for the second time, I made sure to wear a full body wetsuit and it made for a far more enjoyable experience.

That night we were dropped in Port Douglas and caught a bus to our accommodation. On the way to our hostel, as we were rounding a roundabout, a minivan slammed right into the bus we were on. I had been staring out of the window and watched the whole thing happen. Luckily no one was hurt, but Anthony and I had to wait for another bus to come and pick us up. The woman driving the minivan claimed that she didn’t even see our bus. How you don’t see a big, white bus (not just a car, but a bus) right in front of you is beyond me. We didn’t stick around to see what happened because we were picked up soon after. Unfortunately we only got to stay in Port Douglas for one night and didn’t get to see much of it because it rained the whole time.

Tours, Tours, Tours

2007-01-17T15:41:00.000+10:00

Last week I departed Hervey Bay for a 3-day, 2-night self-drive tour of Fraser Island, the world’s largest sand island off the east coast of Australia. After our groups were assembled, we set out to food shop and pick up our 4X4’s, the only vehicles drivable on the island. For the next 3 days, we drove all over the east coast of Fraser visiting beautiful lakes and other sights. We swam in two lakes on our first day, Lake Birrabeen with water so clear it reflected the blue of the sky surrounded by pure white sand, and Lake Wabby, a remote lake flanked by mustard-colored sand dunes. When we landed on the island, we headed toward Lake Wabby, our first destination, but after driving in the wrong direction, we decided Lake Birrabeen would be an acceptable stop even thought it wasn’t on our given itinerary. It became apparent that my group of 10, Team B, wasn’t the itinerary type anyhow and we were all too happy to stray from the plan. We were always the last ones to get going in the morning and also the last ones to return at night. Our first day, we were supposed to report to our base camp at 4:30pm, but we didn’t roll up until 6pm. That was the beauty of the self-drive tour, the freedom to decide where and when we wanted to go. My group saw more of the island than any other because we were willing to drive off course and explore.

Our second day we made it out to Indian Head Point for some marine life watching and spotted dolphins, tiger sharks, stingrays, and turtles. After, we headed to Eli Creek, a freshwater creek that you can float down after a trek to the beginning. Anthony, my group member, had brought a soccer ball and I used it as a flotation device to carry me downstream - twice. I felt like a little kid reveling in simplistic fun. Six of us then headed to Lake Garawangera afterwards, leaving the rest to sunbathe at the creek. When we arrived at the lake we were delighted to find that we had the luxury of having the spot to ourselves – only because we had arrived after everyone else had already left. As usual, we stayed longer than we were supposed to and turned up at base camp around dusk.

Before leaving to catch the barge back to Hervey Bay on our last day, we spent a few hours enjoying the refreshing water of Lake McKenzie. All in all it was one of the best experiences I’ve had so far while I’ve been away. As much as Fraser Island was a gem to explore, it really came down to the people. I was lucky to be part of such a fantastic group and it really made the trip amazingly memorable.

Two days after Fraser Island, I set out on a sailing trip around the Whitsundays, mostly uninhabited islands of such picturesque beauty that sailing them has become a must for any tourist. I spent two days and two nights on a catamaran enjoying the scenery and relaxing in the sun. It was really nice to spend my time somewhere other than a hostel for a few days. That’s partly why the trip sounded so appealing in the first place. Just the thought of spending time on a boat was a really exciting prospect.

During the trip I completed my first ever scuba dive on the Great Barrier Reef. It was an exhilarating experience to be so close to the underwater life, but to be honest it wasn’t my favorite thing in the world. I felt that I was concentrating so much more on the bubbles exiting my regulator and mask that I couldn’t focus very well on my surroundings. I thought it’d be so peaceful and calm underwater but it was actually loud (because of my gear) and slightly unpleasant. I preferred snorkeling where I had the comfort of popping my head above the surface whenever I felt like. I spent the last day in the water snorkeling and I could see the coral and fish just as well as when I was diving. I’m happy that I scuba dived though, if only to check off that box on my list of To Do’s.

On our second day we stopped at Whitehaven Beach on Whitsunday Island, often touted as the world’s most beautiful beach. Unfortunately for us it rained while we were there. It was still beautiful though so I’m sure it’s an incredible sight on a sunny day. My favorite part of the trip was sunbathing on the boat while we cruised through the water. I can finally say that I am certifiably tan, and not just tan for me. Of course I also loved the food. It was a nice reprieve from Subway and peanut butter sandwiches. The crew served food practically every hour of the day, and I don’t think I ever reached the stage of actual hunger. Breakfast turned into a snack into lunch into an afternoon snack and tea and finally into dinner. I’m surprised the boat didn’t sink with the amount of weight we all put on.

The night that we returned from sailing, our boat met at Beaches Bar for a post-sailing reunion. I spoke to Captain Dave about working on a boat, admitting that I had no experience in any area of sailing or cooking for that matter. He assured me that employees are taught everything they need to know, adding that they were looking for crewmembers at the moment. Regrettably I don’t have a working visa and my flights are booked for the next few months with no chance to postpone, otherwise I would have jumped at the chance to spend a few months in Airlie Beach sailing the Whitsundays on a boat. Granted the crew works hard while at sea cooking and cleaning and attending to the needs of the group, but how bad can the job be when you’re on the water all day long sailing around the world’s most scenic islands. I promised him that I’d be back next year with working visa in hand.

Writing Break

2007-01-07T10:59:00.000+10:00

I'll be gone for over a week or so on tours so I won't be blogging. Sit tight and I'll catch up with you all then.

Crikey!!!

2007-01-06T12:20:00.000+10:00

Since I arrived in Noosa too late to make a reservation, I took a chance and showed up at the bus terminal on Wednesday morning to pick up the free courtesy bus to Steve Irwin’s Australia Zoo. Luckily, the driver was able to squeeze one more person, and I was on my way.

Though the weather was overcast and rainy, I had a great time at the zoo. The land and animals are so well maintained and set up. It’s very interactive, which I thought was unique. There aren’t many zoos where you can walk among kangaroos and koalas in their environment. I got up close and personal with one of the kangaroos. I was actually able to feed it and pet it. It was amazing to be able to touch these creatures. I also watched an otter feeding, an elephant feeding, and a wildlife show featuring snakes, birds, and crocodiles. I’d have to say that my favorite animal was the koala and most of my pictures are dedicated to them. They are just so adorable, and all they do is sleep and eat – that’s my kind of animal.

At the end of the day, while I waited for the courtesy bus pick-up, I watched a musician perform near the exit. He played four different instruments including guitar, keyboard, bongo drum, and didgeridoo (an aboriginal instrument) – all at the same time. Now that takes talent.

After searching for an internet outpost in Noosa Heads and coming up empty, I hopped on a bus to Noosa Junction. I decided to grab dinner there as well, at a great Malaysian Noodle Bar. The food was excellent and exactly what I was in the mood for. Realizing that I missed the last bus and would have to walk back to my hostel, I asked a nearby lady to point me in the general direction of Noosaville. After I thanked her and started to walk away, she asked, “You’re not going to walk are you?” “I am,” I responded. “Oh no,” she said. “It’s raining and my husband is on the way. We’ll give you a ride.” And they did…all the way to my hostel. You gotta love Aussie hospitality.

On Thursday, I was surprised to wake up to a beautifully sunny sky. Figuring I’d take advantage of the nice day, which have been few and far between, I caught the hostel’s bus into town and headed to the beach to work on my lobster look. Of course when I finally reached the sand, clouds had taken over once again. I have to admit though that I almost prefer a cloudy Australian beach to a cloudless one. Even when it’s overcast, it’s still hot and you still get color, but you’re not sweating bullets. I can’t really take full-on Australia sun for long anyhow, so the day worked to my advantage. The few times the sun did fully come out I felt like someone had thrown me in a deep fryer, and I hoped the clouds would save me from the impossible heat. I spent the entire day on the beach with a short intermission for lunch. It was exactly what I wanted. I had planned on meandering around Noosa National Park also, but I couldn’t tear myself away from my towel and scratched that idea. Some might see a day at the beach as unproductive, but I see it as just indulging in a big part of Aussie culture – sun, surf, and fun.
Yesterday I took the bus from Noosa to Rainbow Beach. Once I deposited my bags at the hostel, I made a beeline for the beach hoping to catch some more sun. Unfortunately, the volatile weather made for some pretty heavy winds, and wind and sand just don’t mix. I stayed a total of an hour, and after being pelted continuously by sand, half of which was attached to my body, I decided I had had enough and went back to the hostel to laze by the pool.

Things I Notice

2007-01-03T17:53:00.000+10:00

New Year’s barely registered as a holiday for me this year, though I’ve never been one for New Year’s Eve anyhow. I think it’s an over-priced, over-hyped night. After having an extremely filling Indian dinner with Rose and Chris at a great restaurant in town, I laid down to digest and only peeled myself off the bed at 11:15 to watch the Sydney fireworks on T.V. They were beautiful, but I’m always disappointed that second after the fireworks have ended. Your eyes strain and wait for that intense glow again. Except where once the sky was alight with bright colors, it is now replaced with darkness, darkness so pervasive when juxtaposed with the exploding light show. Since Chris and Rose retired early, I brought in the New Year alone in front of the T.V. and strained to hear the sounds of pots banging – a tradition my father and sisters were surely upholding halfway around the world when New York’s midnight finally approached. I went to bed soon after.

As I waited for my bus from Brisbane to Noosa yesterday, I noticed the girl sitting across from me had a tattoo on the inside of her ankle. I always liked that spot especially when it’s not too high on the leg like hers. I looked from her ankle to mine and tried to figure out where on my ankle the tattoo would fall. I examined the area above my anklebone but decided that was too high and the area below the bone was too low. I couldn’t figure out why hers fell in a perfect spot until I realized she didn’t have an anklebone – at least not a protruding one. In fact she had cankles, a word that I find hilarious but fitting, and that’s why her tattoo looked neither too high nor low. I sighed and realized a tattoo wouldn’t work for me in that area because my anklebone would be in the way. Intrigued by this notion, I started looking around at other people’s ankles and noticed a lot of people don’t have prominent anklebones. I’ve had bony feet all my life, skeletal even, but I never really gave it much thought before now. I’d thought that girl had strange ankles, but maybe I’m the one who’s abnormal. Maybe like doctors do with other prominent bone structures, I should have my anklebones shaved down. Is that even an actual procedure?

I arrived in Noosa yesterday and I have to admit I am none too impressed. I didn’t even enjoy the bus ride to Noosa because the bus had assigned seats. Assigned seats on a bus is practically unheard of. At first, I thought I was lucky enough that my designated seat had an empty next to it, but a latecomer entered the bus, heading straight for me, and dashed that dream.

I’m currently staying in Noosaville, the western cousin of the main area, Noosa Heads. My hostel is very out of the way and the first word that came to mind when I saw my room was penitentiary. It was quite a difference from the roomy double bed and cheerful yellow walls I’d gotten used to in Brisbane. The rest of the hostel seems decent enough so I’ve been trying to stay out of my room as much as possible. However, I did notice that the hostel requires a deposit for any dishes and utensils you use – that’s even worse than prison. I liked my accommodation even less after I got lost on the way back from my trek to Woolworth’s. Granted it was my fault that I didn’t look at the street name as I left, but the hostel should at least have a sign pointing you in the right direction. All of the streets look the same; surely I can’t be the only one who passes it by without a second glance. I was originally going to stay in Noosa for 5 days because friends had raved about it, but I decided to only stay 3 and move on from there. If I hadn’t prepaid and received a discounted rate for a 3-night stay, I might have even considered staying only 2 and hightailing it to Rainbow Beach, my next destination.

There’s something that I noticed from my time in Australia, and in New Zealand as well, that I didn’t really think about until my fish and chip dinner last night. After placing and receiving my order sans any kind of dip, I went to the counter to ask for ketchup and tartar sauce and saw a sign that read “All Sauces $1.00.” I had seen it before in other fish and chip shops but this time it really annoyed me. Is there a dearth of ketchup or tartar sauce in these countries that they feel the need to deter its use by actually charging people for it? Is it fair for people to suffer through dry fish and chips because these establishments are too cheap to give out sauces that obviously enhance the meals? It amazes me that they have the audacity to charge you for something that shouldn’t even have to be asked for. It’s standard practice in the U.S. to provide patrons with whatever dipping sauces suite their tastes. It probably won’t happen before I leave the country, but I sincerely hope that Australia catches wind of the trend: Don’t deprive your customers of basic accoutrements.

Hindsight and Hindrances

2006-12-30T17:39:00.000+10:00

Looking back on my travels thus far, I have to admit I really was the most poorly packed traveler. Let me walk you through the stages of my luggage so you can truly see what I mean. I started with a 100lb. monstrosity of a suitcase, a laptop bag, and an outrageously heavy carry-on. At the airport I added a huge duffel bag when they wouldn't let me on the plane because I was over the weight limit (my bags not me personally). After discarding the duffel upon arrival in Auckland, I purchased a smallish roller duffel bag. Deciding I needed yet another thing to carry, I bought a full-size backpack in Queenstown. When I arrived in Christchurch, I subsequently sold both roller suitcases and sent home the carry-on bag along with 50lb. of luggage. Last week when I happened upon a suitcase store in Surfer's Paradise, I bought a small laptop-compatible backpack. With a new home for my computer, I no longer needed my insanely heavy laptop bag and sold that in Brisbane. I now am down to two backpacks, small and large. This entire luggage shuffle took me three months to complete. Just think if I had started with the two backpacks in the first place, how much money and energy I could have saved myself on the trip. Instead, I thought it'd be fun to continuously buy and sell various bags, the route I mistakenly took. For future travelers, I advise against it.

Today Rosemary, Chris, and I ventured out to Redcliffe, a cute little town right near the water. I packed my bathing suit and towel all ready for the beach after days cooped up in the house due to rain. We arrived in town after a few wrong turns (and finally a few right ones) and strolled for a bit. We realized that barely anyone was laying out on the sand and not a soul was in the water, and after looking over the pier, I could see why. Huge, blue jellyfish were swimming (or floating is more accurate) in abundance. I don't know if they were killer jellyfish, as Australia harbors a few types, but all jellyfish sting nevertheless, and we decided swimming wasn't such a swell idea. After observing multitudes of people wearing bathing suits and toting towels and coolers down a path, Rosemary and I decided to check it out seeing as they weren't headed for the beach. At the bottom was a huge park area and swimming lagoon, the place where the whole town had apparently decided to congregate for the day. Rather than take a dip with the hundreds of screaming children and parents, we all hopped in the car and headed back to Brisbane. I spent a good part of the rest of the day on a chair in the backyard reading in the sun. I'm determined to get some semblance of a tan. No one is going to even believe I was in Australia looking as milky as I do.

After being here for a few weeks, I've noticed that Australia has a few interesting quirks that I find a bit over the top. I can see the need for some. For instance, how they prohibit the use of hose water because there's a massive drought. It doesn't seem to matter that the entire country is surrounded by water. In fact, the drought is so bad that the Australian government is considering the use of recycled water. I don't know about you, but I'd love to drink what my neighbor flushed down the toilet that morning. Or I can see how many restaurants forbid the use of doggy bags due to the new standards of food handling. They are trying to avoid any risk of food contamination for which the restaurant may be liable. It doesn't matter that it's a risk most people are willing to take to squeeze every dollar out of their food purchase. "This will be my lunch for the next three days" is a common exclamation we've all heard from the lady at the table next to us. Those restrictions I can somewhat understand. But the other day I was watching a T.V. program that displayed a mature audience label for 1) some graphic language, 2) a (just one) sex scene, and 3) supernatural themes. Who warns against supernatural themes? I didn't know they had been deemed offensive. I also saw a commercial (a commercial!!) with a label that cautioned "Infrequent Moderate Coarse Language." Do they say the word "heck" once or something? Australia just takes PC to a whole new level.

Merry Christmas to All!!

2006-12-26T11:55:00.000+10:00

I bought a pair of Thai fisherman pants when I was in Byron Bay, and they are my new favorite article of clothing. However, when I washed them the other morning the color, a burnt orange, bled terribly. It turned my formerly black, green, white striped shirt to a black, green, orange striped shirt and my once teal top to more of a seafoam green with orange streaks. The label on the pants advised washing dark colors separately. My darks were the only ones unaffected. If I had washed the pants with only light colors, my new favorite color would have to be orange. I think I'll wash the pants separately from now on.

I arrived in Brisbane a few days ago and yesterday I spent a lovely Christmas with my new friends, Chris and Rosemary. While everyone back in NY was probably dressed in sweaters and pants, I was sweating dressed in shorts and my newly-oranged tank top. It was indeed strange for a Christmas day. Rosemary was intent on stuffing us full of good food, which she'd been doing to me since I stepped in their home, and organized a fantastic spread. The day started out with munch food, then came the seafood, followed by the main dishes of turkey, stuffing, ham, and five different salads, and finally Christmas pudding with vanilla custard for dessert. The food was excellent, as both Chris and Rosemary have culinary backgrounds, and I had to roll my tired self back to my room at the end of the night. If you can't spend Christmas with your family and you're in Australia, Chris and Rosemary's is the way go. They are extremely hospitable hosts, and I was happy to spend the holiday with them.

Town of Glitz and Glam

2006-12-22T19:08:00.000+10:00

Sadly enough, Shannon and I parted ways when I arrived in Surfers Paradise last night, the town of glitz and glam. She headed straight on to Brisbane. Surfers, as the locals call it, has a very Vegas feel to it with tons of high rises, resorts, and lights, lights, lights. It’s very different from Byron, which I loved. I had booked a surf package in Byron, which included two days of lessons and I had a great time learning Australia’s pastime. I was able to stand up twice on the board on my own on my first day and on the second day, though I was tired and had a headache from the night before, I was even better. I stood and rode the waves in the majority of the time. I was really happy I learned to surf because I’m hoping to rent boards on my way north along the east coast and practice. Not only is surfing a fun activity but it’s a great workout. I was so tired after the second day that I fell asleep at 9pm, party animal that I am, and slept basically through the entire night.

I took a walk last night around Surfers and if you had told me I was in South Beach, I would have believed you. The town is littered with restaurants, bars, shops, and neon signs. Surfers is a tad tacky and caters to a certain type of tourist – those with money and those looking to get drunk.

I had set out originally in search of ice cream. After coming up empty, I asked a convenience store clerk who directed me toward Baskin Robbins in the mall, which would surely be closed, so I said thank you and left. I came upon a waffle café that served milkshakes, decided that would do, ordered, and headed toward the beach. As I got closer, I found myself smack in the middle of all the tacky action. There were people everywhere enjoying leisurely dinners, perusing the sale racks at shops, and sauntering toward the bars all snazzed up for a night on the town. I walked around for a bit sipping my milkshake and taking in the sights. I knew I wasn’t in Byron anymore when I spotted a Louis Vuitton. I walked past at least nine different ice cream parlors/gelaterias in the span of three blocks. The convenience store clerk had failed to mention these.

Though I’d eaten dinner already, I stopped into a pizzeria called “New York Slice Pizza.” I just had to take a look. The slices looked New York enough, but they probably wouldn’t have been as good. However, at 5.50AUD apiece it was not “New York Price Pizza.” Speaking of New York delicacies, I was craving a bagel yesterday morning so Shannon and I walked around Byron until we found a place serving them, and I happily paid the exorbitant 4.50AUD. However, I unhappily ate the cream cheesed sandwich roll with no hole set before me. It was a sorry excuse for a bagel, and I was disappointed.

I was hoping to head to the beach today, but I woke up to an overcast sky. Instead, I’ll probably walk around and check out the shops and hope the weather clears later on. I’m still searching for a denim skirt and a decently priced bathing suit. Tomorrow I’m heading to Brisbane for Christmas. I’m really looking forward to spending the holiday with a family and not in a hostel. I’m also looking forward to checking out of my accommodation in Surfers. The room I’m staying in is about half the size of my room at home and is currently housing six people. It also has no air conditioning or real ventilation of any sort, so I was roasting in my tiny upper bunk last night.

Land of the Kangaroos

2006-12-19T10:44:00.000+10:00

On Saturday, I went on the Blue Mountains tour. As expected it was raining during the entire hike, not quite pouring but combined with the freezing temperature, enough to make it slightly unbearable. I kept thinking, “I will not do any more tours in the rain. I will not do any more tours in the rain.” I’ve heard how spectacular the Blue Mountains are but I really couldn’t tell you because at every lookout all I saw was a sheet of white fog. Thankfully the weather did clear a bit later in the day, and I was able to get a nice view of the Three Sisters rock formation.

My two favorite parts of the day, neither of which included the Blue Mountains, were riding the steepest railway up to the top of the mountain after clambering down 1,000 muddy, slippery wet steps that wreaked havoc on my older-than-their-years knees and viewing Eastern Grey kangaroos in the wild. I quite enjoyed lunch as well. The railway is a renovated coal-carrying car that was used to transport coal from the mines to the top of the mountain. It is the steepest railway train and if it were any steeper, it would be straight up; it was almost like riding a roller coaster.

Before starting the hike the tour guide drove to a park where kangaroos roam free. They are quite cute animals and surprisingly unafraid of people as I was standing only a few feet from them and they happily went on eating grass undisturbed by my presence. An interesting fact about kangaroos is that the females are the only animals that can hold off on pregnancy. They have the ability to hang onto a fertilized egg until they are ready to become pregnant again. Imagine if humans had that capability; it would certainly cut down on the number of unplanned pregnancies. You’d be able to say, “I’m not ready for this baby yet. I think I’ll just save the fertilized egg for later.” Think how much easier life would be if you could schedule your child for an appropriate time.

Saturday night was my hostel’s Christmas party, which turned into a big rowdy affair. I had a great time and especially enjoyed watching the drunken Christmas pirates, Christmas skeletons, and Christmas knights. I suppose you can make any costume Christmas-y by throwing on a Santa hat or just by being drunk enough to think it’s Christmas-y. Regardless, it was quite the spectacle and fairly amusing to see the train wrecks passed out in the T.V. lounge the following morning. There were many rough-looking revelers dragging themselves around the hostel on Sunday, let me tell you.

I took an overnight bus on Sunday from Sydney to Byron Bay. I’m a real fan of overnight buses, especially when they are empty enough to claim two seats for yourself. They save you on accommodation for the night and rather than wasting a day staring out a bus window, they turn traveling into a painless process. You board at night, sleep, and arrive in the morning. I’m planning on taking as many overnight buses as possible from now on.

I arrived in Byron Bay yesterday morning to an impossibly sunny sky. I spent the day at the beach working on my pseudo-tan. I did get a bit of color but I’m diligent about sunscreen so not too much color. The sun in Australia can be brutal particularly because of the hole in the ozone layer over the country so I was careful not to let myself burn. I didn’t want to ruin the rest of my days here by getting sun poisoning on my first venture down to the beach.

Byron Bay is the hippiest of hippy towns and as a matter of course is big on alternative therapies, dreadlocks, and yoga so I decided to connect my mind and body last night at a yoga class. Shannon, my travel partner from California, and I took an hour and a half yoga class. We were the only two people who attended so it was almost like a private session. I've been so inactive since I started traveling because it's really not feasible to join a gym or anything, so I felt really relaxed and toned after the class last night and I hope to take another one tonight after my first surf lesson tomorrow.

Rain Rain Go Away

2006-12-15T16:29:00.000+10:00

Yesterday, I joined my hostel’s Sydney orientation walk, a 3 ½ hour trek around the city highlighting all points of interest from the opera house to the harbor bridge to the Anzac War Memorial. I essentially covered all of my sightseeing in a day while meeting a ton of people and sweating my butt off in the sweltering sun. To top it all off, we congregated in the bar for a free beer at the end.

After, I headed to Paddy’s Market, a basic garden-variety flea market touted for its cheap deals. But I have to say the prices weren’t bargain basement by any means, and I’m crap at haggling which wasn’t a good combination and hence not a successful trip. I did buy a cute weather-appropriate top for 20AUD, but considering how weak the US dollar is, I totally overpaid. I really liked it though and as Shannon, my shopping buddy, pointed out I could dress it up or down making it a worthwhile purchase. I was also in search of a short denim skirt to wear with everything but they were all only suitable for 12-year-olds and covered only one of my thighs. I suppose I’ll have to go to an actual store to buy something that fits a normal-sized female, though that may not be successful either considering how much skin Aussies love to bare.

I was supposed to go on the Bondi-Coogee beach walk today, which I was really looking forward to, but after showering and throwing on my bathing suit, I finally looked outside to see it pouring rain. Needless to say the trip was cancelled to my dismay. Instead, a small group of us took a trip out to Sydney Aquarium. It was a perfect rainy day activity, and I was able to see a variety of sharks, seals, fish, and other marine life. My favorite had to be the platypus. I’d never seen one up close and they are really amusing animals to watch.

I’m only going to be in Sydney for another two days before heading to Byron Bay, and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it to the beach, especially because the weather isn’t forecasted to clear up for a few days. I’m going to try to get out to Bondi before my bus leaves on Sunday night; it’s a staple tourist destination and I can’t leave Sydney without seeing it. Tomorrow I have a Blue Mountains tour planned, so I’m really crossing my fingers that the rain will stop. If not, it’ll probably end up being another miserable tour in the rain, Franz Josef Glacier style (if you all remember that disaster.)

Outback Country

2006-12-13T17:40:00.000+10:00

I arrived in Sydney last night after a decently pleasant flight from New Zealand. I had enjoyed my time in Taupo, especially white water rafting though I twisted my knee, but it was time for me to continue my trip. After spending the last few weeks in a small town, Sydney is quite a change – it has all the hustle and bustle of a truly cosmopolitan center.

After arriving at the airport, I waited almost an hour for the shuttle bus driver to take me to the hostel because she was waiting on more people. God forbid she drives just one person. Honestly, it was 8:15 at night – how many people did she think needed to be taken to hotels? After a few more people joined the shuttle (I found myself trying to coax people into the van just so we’d leave) I finally arrived at my hostel around 9:30 last night.

As far as appearances go, the hostel seems to offer every amenity one could want – internet, café, bar, lounges, etc. – but I’m not particularly pleased. For starters, they stuck me in a room with 6 guys, the kitchen is dirty and too small to accommodate the volume of people passing through, and the reception desk attendants hover on the verge of rude. I forgot to add that my room isn’t even fit for pigs, which isn’t the hostel’s fault but I’ll blame them anyway. I’m rooming with the dirtiest people I’ve ever met, especially my bunkmate who from the look of things deemed himself the lord of the room. His stuff is absolutely everywhere, covering every inch of space within a 5 ft. radius of the bed, hanging from every available railing, and sitting on top of the entire “communal” table. I want to take it all and dump it on his bed. (Side note: When I got back to my hostel today, there was a note on my door that our room is to be cleaned by the staff. I guess they got the hint when I asked to change rooms.)

However, the hostel does have one of the most helpful travel desks I’ve ever seen. The travel agent provided me with so much information on activities that my head was spinning – in a good way. I’m now very excited to start my Australian adventure, whereas beforehand I tired at just the thought of planning another country-wide trip.

After I went food shopping today, which by the way I’ll have to stop eating bananas because they are so expensive here, I decided to walk around and get a feel for the city. My roommate, Michael (not my pig bunkmate), and I made our way to Sydney Tower, which has the highest observation deck in the southern hemisphere towering 250m over the city. We looked out over Sydney from the observation deck and participated in the OzTrek, a cheesy simulated journey through the different areas of Australia. It was more funny than informative, but better than sitting at the hostel I guess. Sydney reminds me a lot of Auckland or Wellington in New Zealand, but I suppose all cities tend to look alike after awhile. There aren’t many variations on tall, brick buildings and crowded streets to set a city apart from another.

Travel Hiatus

2006-12-02T12:26:00.000+10:00

In response to overwhelming inquiry, I decided to post and let you know that I am currently safe and sound – not dead, dismembered, laid up in the hospital, or being held for ransom as some of you have taken to believe. I have been in Taupo for almost two weeks now and will be for another week before I head to Australia, and for the majority of my time here, I have redefined the term lazy. My days consist of sleep, TV, and food, and rather than regale you with my tales of total mental and physical lethargy, I have held off on posting. I have managed to tear myself away from the couch to go for the occasional walk (and I plan to white water raft tomorrow), but other than that I am sad to report that my heart rate has barely risen above that of a comatose patient. I am essentially on travel hiatus, a seeming oxymoron, but a true description of my current situation.

And so I ask you all to stop worrying and wondering, I will be back posting in full force once I reach Australia in a week or so (December 12th exactly for you stalwarts) and I’ll catch up with all of you then.

Back to the North

2006-11-23T14:50:00.000+10:00

Sunday, I ventured out into Christchurch to get a feel for the city. When I looked out my window at 11:00am, the sun was shining in a perfectly blue sky. When I left my hostel at 12, only one hour later, the sun had surrendered to the clouds and a light drizzle fell in the air. I was disappointed because I was looking forward to basking in the sunshine for a change. I still wandered around the city anyway and found an open-air market where I bought roasted cashews that reminded me of the ones I always buy from the street vendors in New York City. After, I made my way to the Botanic Gardens, but I was too cold to wander much farther than the iron gates. Instead of walking back to my hostel, I hopped on one of the old-fashioned trams (my roommate had given me a ticket she wasn’t going to use) and rode it around the city circuit. I actually did find Christchurch with its gardens and parks quite appealing, though most people claim the city doesn’t have much to offer. I probably would have enjoyed it even more if the sun had been shining.

When I got back to the hostel, I decided to give myself an impromptu haircut (sorry Aunt Lucy). I needed one badly but didn’t want to spend the money to get an inch of dead ends cut off. I halved my hair and pinned the top half up and started hacking away with the only scissors I had – my nail scissors. I only cut off about ½ an inch or so and decided to leave it at that. I lost my confidence ¾ of the way through the underneath section so I finished it off and left the top half alone, deciding I probably should put my strands in someone else’s skilled hands. At least it’s not a total disaster; the underneath layers aren’t even visible.

After a long and stressful battle with my travel agent and Air New Zealand, I finally decided to cancel my flight out of Christchurch and postpone leaving for Australia until mid-December. I bought my own ticket from Auckland to Sydney rather than trying to change the one I already had – it came to about the same cost and made it much more convenient for me to fly out. Airlines make it virtually impossible to alter flight plans easily. It’s not like they wouldn’t be able to fill my vacant seat, so I don’t understand why they make it so difficult to postpone a flight. I think they just take joy in saying “no” to the desperate pleas they must hear day in and day out. I planned to head back up to Taupo in central North Island and recharge for a few weeks before jumping into every-other-day-a-new-place travel in Australia. I’m staying with a friend in Taupo, whom I met and traveled with on the North Island, and who is currently working and living there.

I was up at 6am on Monday and traveled for 12 hours to make it to Taupo, my home for the next three weeks, by nighttime. I had to take the ferry across to the North Island, followed by a bus ride from Wellington to Taupo. I tried to sleep on the full-length couch I had snagged in one of the ship’s lounges but could do little more than doze in and out. I couldn’t sleep on the bus either though I had two seats to myself. I usually never fall asleep in moving vehicles; I’ll close my eyes in rest, but hardly ever in sleep. I occupied myself listening to my iPod and reading “The Devil Wears Prada,” a book I had picked up from my hostel’s book exchange in Christchurch.

The rest of my time I spent trying to figure out if the two people sitting diagonally in front of me were two girls or a girl and a guy. I seriously couldn’t tell. Every time I’d decided on a conclusion, he/she would do something to suggest otherwise. Person in question sported long hair (girl) covered by a knit skull cap (boy), a long sleeve t-shirt (either) with a fleece vest (boy), khaki pants (either), chunky black pseudo-bowling shoes (girl), and indeterminate androgynous features – masculine for a girl and feminine for a boy. I think I had decided on girl by the time I got out at my Taupo stop (6 ½ hours later), but I couldn’t be 100% sure short of asking him/her, but obviously that would be insulting, so I decided I was right – it was a girl – and left it at that.

I’m looking forward to my three weeks in Taupo. It’ll give me a chance to relax and unwind and it’ll be nice to semi-unpack my stuff rather than keeping it packed and extracting only what I would need for a day or two. I think it’s important to “settle” somewhere – as much as you can while on the road – once in a while and relax, if only temporarily, and that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Ruminations on Other American Travelers

2006-11-20T12:16:00.000+10:00

I met four other Americans staying at my hostel in Christchurch, two of them, surprisingly, from Long Island, one from New Hampshire, and one from Florida. The three girls had been studying abroad in Australia and were now on vacation in New Zealand for ten days before returning home. The 18-year-old boy was on a two-year Australia/New Zealand student exchange program for young adults just out of high school.

When I asked him what he was doing in New Zealand he responded, “Trying to find my place in the world and how I fit.” It was a bit too philosophical and pretentious of an answer for my tastes, but I could respect that. I feel the same way sometimes, but in a quieter way. I don’t need to be overt about my reasons for traveling. I could tell he loved to declare this answer whenever anyone asked.

He inquired about my itinerary so I named the places, in order, where I would be traveling.
“Why aren’t you going to Japan?” he questioned condescendingly as if I had no idea what I was missing.
“Because I chose not to. There are enough places on my itinerary already, and I only wanted to travel to certain parts of Southeast Asia right now,” I answered.
“But why? If I was going to Asia, the place I’d want to go most is Japan,” he replied obnoxiously. Well good thing I’m not you then, I thought but said nothing. “I want to go to China, Korea, and Japan,” he continued.
“Those are a few of the most expensive Asian countries to travel to. If you went to Southeast Asia, you could save yourself some money,” I suggested.
“Money is nothing. It comes and goes,” he responded with a shrug. I wanted so badly to retort, That’s easy for you to say seeing as you’re undoubtedly traveling on daddy’s dollar at the moment, but I just smiled and excused myself. I’d had enough of his idealistic-on-the-verge-of-pompous affirmations. Who did he think he was to tell me where I should be traveling when he was only 18 and fresh out of high school with no experience with which to base his notions? He chose to travel to two of the most westernized-as-close-to-America-as-you-can-get countries he could find and was clearly someone that had no idea what was going on in the world but liked to think that he was above it all. I don’t like when people pretend to know what the world is like when they haven’t actually seen any of it.

He wasn’t very aware of the state of his own country for that matter (which I can appreciate, I’m not the best at keeping up on the news either), but he had no knowledge that the Democrats had essentially taken over politically and said naively, “But the elections aren’t for two more years,” when I responded to his “What’s going on in America?” question with “You missed the elections.”
One of the girls added, “There’s mid-elections for the house and senate.”
“Oh I don’t care about those. They don’t do anything,” he said waving a dismissive hand in the air. Unbeknownst to them, apparently the house and senate are just for show…

It’s people like him that give young American travelers a bad reputation. Foreigners see us as haughty know-it-alls who only believe in one way of living. I have for the most part liked the other Americans I have met along the way and am proud of the country I hail from, but for a brief moment, I saw what people from other countries already see.

Officially a Backpacker

2006-11-18T14:50:00.000+10:00

I gave in. I am no longer a “suitcaser” – I have officially joined the ranks of “backpacker.” After days of trying to figure out what to send home, what to keep, how to transport my overpacked suitcase, I decided it would be best just to buy a backpack and send everything home that doesn’t fit. After scouring the Queenstown area and asking salespeople more questions than I can remember, I decided on a 65liter backpack for 120NZD. It was the last one left and on sale. I was so proud of myself for holding out until I found the best deal possible. I have been toting around 5 bags (yes, 5) for the past month and a half. I seem to keep buying more and not getting rid of any.

I arrived in Lake Tekapo yesterday, the halfway point between Queenstown and Christchurch. I figured I’d split the journey in half and hole up in the little town for a night. It poured the entire trip from Queenstown to Lake Tekapo and continued throughout today. The whole town of Lake Tekapo is a strip mall situated along the main highway. To be honest, the place gave me the creeps, and I’m happy that I decided to stay only one night. It seemed to me like an inbred country town where everyone has only two teeth and knows everyone else’s business. Many people stay in Lake Tekapo because of its proximity to Mount Cook, a mountain with supposed beautiful walks and views (don’t they all say that?); otherwise I found no reason at all why someone would want to stay there. The hostel I stayed at was especially strange. The manager behind the reception desk tried to guess my name three times before he even let me ask if they had any dorms available. Only after I shook my head for a third time when he asked, “Amy?” did he let me inquire about a room. I did take a nice walk along the lake last night, once the rain had abated, but I wasn’t sticking around to see any more of the town. I got up early enough this morning and left as soon as possible.

I arrived in Christchurch today after a 3-hour drive. I stopped briefly along the way for a “driver reviver” – free coffee served by a café along the highway. I think that’s a pretty great idea. They help curb the number of drivers who veer off the road or cause accidents from fatigue by serving free wake-up beverages. Seeing as I’m a coffee fiend, I was pleased, even though it was 12pm and I was in no danger of falling asleep at the wheel.

Christchurch seems like a nice enough city but I was advised to spend as little time as possible here. A city is a city is a city (except for New York – I’m biased) and New Zealand isn’t known for its cities, it’s known for its landscapes and small, attractive towns. I drove around the block 7 times before I found a place to park. I found a spot fairly close to my hostel and I’m not planning on moving until I leave Monday morning. Everything in the city center is paid parking, but luckily I’m staying the weekend and parking is free.

I had tried to make it to Christchurch before the post office closed but to no avail. I’ve been lugging around my excess items in huge boxes in the back of my car. I was hoping to send them home today before I proceeded to Picton, where I have to drop off my car, but I guess I’ll just have to send them from Picton before I drop off the car. There’s no way I could transport the boxes otherwise. Besides sending home my stuff, my next order of business was to sell my suitcases. I found a cash converter two blocks away from my hostel that bought both of my suitcases for 40NZD. I was hoping for a bit more, but I had been planning on tossing them in the dump, so any money would have satisfied me. I am slowly beginning the process of unburdening myself of material items so I can travel more lightly. I have more than 6 months of travel ahead of me and I’d like to accomplish it as easily as possible.

Setbacks and Swan Dives

2006-11-15T16:01:00.000+10:00

On Sunday I drove to Wanaka with my roommate Chrissi from my hostel at Franz Josef. It was nice to have someone join me on the long boring ride. We stopped at Lake Matheson on the way, a lake known for its mirror-like quality. It was beautiful, and the reflection of the sky, clouds, and trees was so clear in the calm water. We made it to Wanaka in about 4 hours, and I was so happy to drive into sunshine and cloudless skies. Wanaka is a quaint, little town situated on Lake Wanaka and surrounded by snow-capped mountains. We found out from the hostel upon arrival that various church groups in the community were holding a free barbeque, so we made our way there for dinner. Free anything for a backpacker is always good, and it was a nice welcome to the town.

I’ve been having some setbacks as far as the progression of my trip goes so I’ve been in an iffy mood for the past few days and am just now figuring out solutions to my dilemmas. I’m having issues sending home my luggage and postponing my flight. I also strained my neck so I can’t look to the right and have bites all over my arms and neck from, I think, bedbugs as gross as that sounds. So I didn’t feel up to much in Wanaka, albeit there wasn’t much to do anyhow, so I mostly hung at the hostel and took long walks around the lake. I tried to go to Puzzling World, a place apparently renowned for its eccentricity. I drove all the way there only to u-turn in the parking lot and head back. Just the thought of trying to figure out puzzles gave me a headache. I decided not to do any activities that would make me more frustrated than I already was.

Monday night in Wanaka, I went out with a group of people from my hostel. We went to one bar where we were the only people there. Then we went to a second bar where we were the only people there. It seemed to be a theme. Apparently Wanaka’s nightlife is in a slump. There weren’t even any other backpackers out. It was just us and the bartenders, who did their best to make us leave so they could close up shop.

Chrissi, Daniel, and I drove to Queenstown yesterday. There is a whole group of us that has been traveling together since Franz Josef and those of us with cars each took a few people. I really like Queenstown and all of the outdoor, extreme activity hype surrounding it. The city has a really good vibe. It’s too bad that I only have three days to spend here. I booked my bungee jump this morning through my hostel and left for my jump at 1pm. I decided to do the Nevis Bungee, which is 440ft above the Nevis River. I figured if I was only going to do one jump, I might as well do the biggest and the baddest I could find – and the Nevis was it.

As I stood in the lobby of the A.J. Hackett building this afternoon watching the video of other people bungee jumping, I was getting increasingly nervous. I wasn’t scared at all about jumping out of a plane, but was nervous about jumping off a platform suspended by a wire more than 440ft over the Nevis River. The fact that you had to pitch yourself over the edge willingly was what was getting to me. For the skydive, I had relatively no responsibility for hurling myself out of the plane.

It took us 45 minutes just to reach the remote site of the jump, and they had put me second to last so I was able to watch everyone else swan dive off the platform. My fear had waned by the time it was my turn, and I wasn’t nervous in the least as they tied my feet together. Standing on the edge and looking over the platform, however, was a different story. They tell you not to look down and it was the first thing I did. I couldn’t help it. The guide counted down, 3-2-1, and I just stood there looking down. “This is the part where you’re supposed to jump,” he whispered to me. Then I just went for it – threw my arms out to the side and leapt off the platform like a bird taking flight. I felt like a suicidal person jumping off a building, except I was attached to a patented recovery system and my remains wouldn’t have to fished out of the river. I screamed on my way down, probably an expletive of some sort, until the scream caught in my throat and I couldn’t utter a sound. The two seconds right after I jumped, my body seemed to hang in the air until gravity took hold and hurtled me toward the water at 130 km/hr. It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s a strange sensation to fall through the air with nothing to stop you, until of course the cord catches and you bounce upside-down. It was a lot of fun, but it wasn’t what I thought it was going to be. Maybe I’m just desensitized to fear because I didn’t get as much of a rush as I thought I would. In fact, afterwards I was ready for a nap.

Rainy Days

2006-11-11T16:19:00.000+10:00

Thursday I had my morning jade carving session. It was quite intensive and hands-on. I had to draw the design I wanted, trace it onto a slab of jade, carve it, sand it, buff it, and polish it. I was at the studio for five hours. I chose to carve a leaf. I was originally going to carve a koru, or Maori spiral, because I like what it symbolizes - new growth and beginnings - but decided against it. Jade spirals are found in every shop in New Zealand, and I wanted something unique. I would have liked to do a NZ fern, but the intricacy and delicate nature of the design would have made for a grueling carving session. I was happy with my leaf though and for only 90NZD, it's a big hunk of genuine NZ jade. In shops, something this size would cost around 150NZD. It's not as professional as the shops, it has a sort of rough, handmade look to it, but that's what makes it mine.

That night I met an American girl, Meredith from D.C., whom I joined for a few drinks with friends of hers. It's so strange traveling because you meet people and become friends so quickly. Friendships made on the road are like shooting stars - a burst that fades quickly. You become fast friends only to utter goodbye the next day or that same night. We may meet up again in Queenstown or Christchurch in a week or so but you never can tell what will happen.

I was supposed to go on the glacier walk on Friday, the main attraction in Franz Josef, but I woke up feeling subpar, probably due to my late night antics, so I postponed the trip until today. I decided throwing up on the glacier wouldn't make for a worthwhile experience. After half a loaf of buttered toast, advil, and some sleep I was feeling better and extremely happy I had postponed - I never would have made the walk. They would have had to slide me down the side of the glacier to get me home.

I ended up hiking the glacier walk today instead. Let me say it ordinarily would have been a great hike, filled with challenging climbs, and beautiful views. But on this particular day it was just a wet, miserable ascent. It rained the entire time we were on the glacier. Sometimes it would stop for a brief moment so I could take a picture, but it would surely start a few minutes later. I had decided to do the full day hike, which I now wish I hadn't, so we left the activity center at 9:30 and didn't return until 5:30. I looked like a drowned rat by the end of the hike. I was completely soaked through as if I had jumped into a pool, and my feet were swimming in my "waterproof" boots. I'm sure the hike would have been fantastic on a bright, sunny day, but all I could focus on today was how much I wished I were elsewhere. The highlight of the day was probably eating lunch in the pouring rain with no shelter - I wouldn't trade that for anything.

To The West

2006-11-08T15:07:00.000+10:00

So for the past three days it was Jean, Ron, the horses, and me. I rode them, fed them, tacked them, groomed them, and yes, shoveled their crap – the horses that is, not Jean and Ron. Though I grew accustomed to my own room, fresh coffee, and home-cooked meals during my short stay, it was time for me to leave if I was ever going to see the rest of the south island. I’m happy I took the opportunity to stay at Hanmer Horses though – it was a nice break from the redundancy of dorms and saved me money on food and accommodation. I even grew to like Jean and Ron over the time I was there. It was nice to spend a few days in a home atmosphere; and Jean brewed “real” coffee so that shot her to the top of my list.

Jean and I got along well, and I think I liked Ron mostly because he reminded me of my father – not personality-wise per se, except maybe his sarcasm, but in build, features, and mannerisms. I did enjoy our travel story swap sessions, which we shared over the past few days but found his cynicism and lack of enthusiasm rather discouraging. He actually labeled the Great Wall of China “rubbish.” A landmark of such history and distinction should never be labeled rubbish even if it wasn’t as impressive as you’d imagined it. Ron didn’t seem particularly pleased with many or any of the places he’d seen, which encompassed most of North America, South America, Europe, Asia, and Australia. I did find it inspiring though that disappointment after “bloody” disappointment, from his perspective anyway, he finds the urge to travel again and again. His wanderlust never seems to die with his expectations. Perhaps he’s in search of that perfect, undisturbed, culturally-untarnished haven he can unequivocally label “brilliant.”

Jean and I had a conversation the other day about traveling, and she asked what I’d do when I returned to New York after my travels. I responded that I would be almost 25 after my eight months away and should probably start thinking about heading down a career track. “Oh careers aren’t all they’re cracked up to be,” she said shaking her head. Exactly my sentiments, I thought. “Go out and see the world,” she added. Then she told me about a Dutch family she had met on one of her trips with Ron. A married couple was traveling the world with their four kids in tow. The children didn’t attend school – the parents had taught them to read and write, and they felt that traveling would teach them the skills they’d need to survive in the world. The world was an interactive classroom, if you will. I’ve been thinking about that story a lot lately. Most people would think the couple had a few screws loose, but it really makes you wonder what is in the realm of possibility when it comes to traveling? Is it possible to always keep moving or do you have to stop sometime? And do people only stop because they feel they need to settle down or because they are too weary to go on? We all have instilled ideals as to what course we should follow, but if we never stray from our ideals, will we ever know what else is out there?

I made it to the west coast of the south island today to Hokitika. It was disheartening to leave the finally-blue skies of Hanmer and head towards the gray clouds of Hokitika, but my next few destinations are all on the west coast so I had to be on my way. Since it is now storming and very nearly hailing in Hokitika, I’m basically stranded at the hostel. I’ll just relax today I suppose – I could use a little rest after a few days of manual labor. I booked a jade carving session for the morning and that was all I had really wanted to accomplish in Hokitika anyway so I don’t really mind doing nothing for the day. Sometimes I just enjoy curling up on the couch with a good book when the weather isn’t suitable for anything else.

Home on the Horse Farm

2006-11-06T16:15:00.000+10:00

Saturday I decided to check out the Hanmer Springs Thermal Resort. It was very relaxing and had a ton of pools to choose from, but it was so crowded. It was most likely because it was the weekend, but I had to fight for a spot in the hot pool and I nearly fell off my perch several times. The crowds started to thin later at night, but I’d had enough by then and left with them.

I really liked the hostel I was staying at in Hanmer Springs – it was very homey and cozy – but I didn’t particularly like my roommates. One girl who happened to have the bunk above me came in after we’d all turned in, climbed to the top, and tossed and turned for an hour before finally resting. The beds were metal and spring bunks, and she kept me awake the entire time. Then she was up at 7am the next morning (I know because she woke me up) and squirmed around in the bed for half an hour before climbing down. I wondered what on earth she was doing up there?

My other roommate was an older woman. I always think it’s strange when older people stay at hostels. I think why not treat yourself and stay at a hotel or at least if you’re staying at a hostel, splurge and get your own room for an extra $15-20. When I reach a certain age, I’ll be damned if I’m sleeping on a bunk bed in a hostel on my vacation. She had also brought a dog with her who sat with its head in my lap while I ate dinner Saturday night despite my repeated attempts to shoo it away. She made no effort to deter him.

She had assured me, probably after seeing my displeased face, that the dog wouldn’t be in the room at all. Damn right, I thought. I’m not paying to stay at a kennel. However, when I stepped out of the shower yesterday morning, the dog was running around the room. She quickly pulled him outside after seeing me. I think she thought the room was empty. Still, how inconsiderate can you be? Even if I was a dog-lover, which I’m not, I’m sure the owners wouldn’t appreciate dog hair everywhere. So my hostel would have been great if it weren’t for all of the other boarders. Damn people.

I had seen a sign at my hostel for work available in exchange for accommodation and keep at Hanmer Horses. For some reason I have always romanticized the notion of working on a horse farm so I seized this opportunity. I was delighted to learn that there was no minimum stay so I could work as few or as many days as I wanted. I ventured out to Hanmer Horses yesterday and worked for the day in exchange for a room, meals, and free horse rides. I confirmed after one day what I’ve always assumed but this time suppressed – I am just not cut out for the farm. It actually wasn’t the work that bothered me so much – I can do manual labor – it was the incessant sand flies buzzing around my head and attaching themselves to me like leaches. They are the kind of flies that make you want to dive head first into a vat of insect repellent. They made any normal activity difficult and frustrating. As I washed out buckets at the end of day one, I counted at least six flies attached to the wisps of my loose hair. I decided I’d stay and work today and tomorrow and then move on. I probably could have held out longer, but I have less than two weeks in New Zealand and there’s plenty I still want to see on the South Island.

Besides, my hosts, Jean and Ron, are a bit strange. They’ve only been married for 10 years or so, which according to Ron “isn’t very long,” and are both originally from England. I get the feeling that Ron wishes he were elsewhere most of the time, mostly because he flat out said, “Horses are not my thing,” and doesn’t seem to know very well what he’s doing, though they’ve owned this business for years. I don’t think his wife nor Americans are quite his thing either as he made some off-color remarks regarding both. I suppose Jean keeps him around to take care of the hard labor and to refurbish the farm. As a husband, he seems fairly unresponsive, and their interactions, hardly affectionate, were almost painful to witness.

Another thing, the house has no power during the day. I didn’t know this yesterday as I tried turning on the light in the bathroom and ended up having to pee in the dark. Only between 6pm and 10pm is there any electricity in the house. I guess it’s one way of cutting costs.

The Beautiful Outdoors

2006-11-04T13:15:00.000+10:00

Thursday, I went whale watching with the company Whale Watch Kaikoura. We saw three sperm whales on the surface. Despite their size, the whales aren’t very easy to spot because they only appear as shiny, gray slivers on the surface of the water. You really only see a hump and water spurting from the blowhole. It was interesting to see but not the most exciting thing in the world. I suppose I thought I’d see the entire whale, even though that wasn’t a very practical assumption. Whales usually don’t rise completely out of the water unless they’re jumping. I did watch the whales dive back under but I still only saw their tails and not much else.

We also spotted dusky dolphins, and they are fun and exciting to see. They came right up to the boat, and as they are very entertaining animals, performed jumps and flips. We were out on the water for almost three hours and that was enough for me. The boat was moving fast through large swells and I started to feel sick by the end of the trip – not exactly like I wanted to throw up but just not right or balanced. My equilibrium was definitely off. I don’t know if my seasickness is now an on-going affliction or a passing one – I hope only passing.

I went swimming with dolphins yesterday, and it was one of the best experiences I’ve had so far while I’ve been in New Zealand. It was absolutely amazing how close they came to me. I think they were as interested in me as I was in them. At first, I was having problems with my mask because water kept seeping in and going up my nose. My guide said it was likely because I was smiling which makes the mask lose suction. I switched masks and from then on kept a straight face when possible, but it’s hard not to crack a smile or break into laughter when a dolphin is swimming right beside you. They were close enough to touch and I could have if they weren’t so quick.

To incite the dolphins to take interest in you, you’re supposed to make noises, swim in circles, and dive underwater. If that doesn’t work, at least the crew is entertained watching you make a fool of yourself. To me, I just sounded like a dying otter but making noises seemed to work majority of the time. One dolphin kept coming back to me and swimming in circles, as if testing me to see if I could keep up. I could tell it was the same one over and over because he had a mark just above one of his eyes. It was amazing to experience the dolphins in their natural environment and watch them that close. They are such beautiful animals, and I feel privileged that I was able to interact with them in such a way.

Laura, my English roommate during my time at Dusky Lodge in Kaikoura, and I had an addition to our room yesterday. Laura and I got along well and it had been just us since Wednesday morning, so I was surprised to see another bag propped against the bed when I returned from breakfast. The new roommate seemed nice enough, though she only spoke three words to me in total, but she stared in the mirror more than anyone I’ve seen. I watched her silently, almost inquisitively throughout the day as she stood in front of the mirror tying and re-tying her ponytail, each time pulling her bangs forward and then standing back in scrutiny. I thought it looked the same each time but apparently she found some flaw and pulled the elastic from its hold to try again. I felt like pointing out that she was staying at a backpacker’s hostel not at some hotel holding a beauty pageant convention. Nobody looks good at a hostel and for the most part no one tries to. I’ve put on makeup once since I’ve been away and that was back in Auckland. I even noticed last night, as I lay in bed listening to music, that she undressed facing the mirror, and for our benefit I’m sure, wore only boy shorts which she pranced around the room in, though her figure isn’t what I’d call svelte. I was in a t-shirt and flannel pants and Laura, likewise. I couldn’t help but laugh and then hide my face in my notebook as if I was reading something funny. After she finished prancing, I watched her clamber to the top bunk and do crunches as she removed her makeup. A mattress isn’t the best surface for back support while crunching, but once again I remained silent. She was a strange duck let me tell you. I decided then that I might start to like staying in dorms, if only to observe everyone else’s strange idiosyncrasies.

I arrived in Hanmer Springs today from Kaikoura. I had planned on only staying one night, but I was so smitten with the adorable, thermal resort town that I decided to stay two nights instead. Maybe it was the beautiful weather illuminating the town in such an appealing way or the fantastic smoked chicken, cranberry, and brie sandwich I had for lunch (which by the way is my new favorite combination that I highly recommend you try), but I’m ready to set up camp here. I’ve decided to hang out today and enjoy the gorgeous spring sun and possibly make my way down to the Hanmer Springs Thermal Resort tonight to dip into the heated mineral pools. Either way I’m carefree at the moment and enjoying my lack of a plan.

Machinery and Mishaps

2006-11-01T14:58:00.000+10:00

I arrived in Kaikoura yesterday. The drive from Blenheim was along a coastal highway and was absolutely beautiful. The water was varying shades of blue broken by jagged rocks and boulders. I couldn’t take my eyes off it, which isn’t very conducive to driving. It seems strange to me that water can inspire such awe. We won’t watch water flowing from a faucet but we’ll happily watch waves lapping on a beach for hours.

The hostel I’m staying at is livelier than in Blenheim. I opted to stay in a 4-person dorm, which I don’t usually do. As of yet, I’ve been sticking to singles but as I travel farther south to smaller towns, fewer places offer them. Besides, I figure I should start saving some money by staying in dorms, and I do have the advantage of keeping my valuables in the car rather than in the room. However, after one night I’m already not too keen on dorms. Yeah they are a great price, but privacy is sometimes worth the little extra.

I ended up with the top bunk, which I swear gives me an altitude headache and is the closest to the overhead light so I get hit hard when someone unexpectedly flips the switch. The Swedish girl below me all but threw a tantrum last night when another girl entered the room and started rustling in the dark. The Swede huffed repeatedly, then flew out of bed, switched on the light, and swiftly got back into bed leaving the other girl sitting surprised on the floor. Mind you, the Swedish girl was the only one who had hung towels and blankets around her bed to keep out the light. She should have been the least affected by anyone else entering the room. I think if you’re going to have a hissy fit every time someone makes a little noise, don’t stay in a 4-person room.

I was awoken this morning by my bunk bed vibrating to the lovely sound of jackhammers and drills. They are doing major construction on the road the hostel is situated on and it’s right outside my window. I hear engines rumbling, concrete being split apart, and foremen yelling all day long, which doesn’t make for a very pleasant atmosphere. I wish I had known beforehand – I would have stayed at another hostel. When I arrived yesterday, I asked the receptionist what they were doing out there, gesturing toward the machinery. “Oh I think they’re doing work on the road,” she replied dryly. Thanks Einstein, that was truly a helpful explanation.

This morning two of my roommates left and as soon as the Swedish girl removed her sheets and left the room, I claimed the lower bunk as my own. Rather than transfer sheets and pillowcases, I lugged the entire mattress with sheets, pillow, and duvet off the top and switched it with the one on the bottom. I thought it easier than actually making the bed, something I try to avoid.

I went for a nice two-hour walk today on the peninsula near seal colonies. The first hour was a cliff top walk along the water, which made its way down to the beach and met with an hour-long shoreline walk. It was a great hike, barring a few mishaps. Along the cliff top, I took a wrong turn and ended up in a manure field with cows frolicking around. I thought I was going in the wrong direction but wasn’t sure where the right direction was. Finally, I saw the track and I had to climb over two fences, one barbed, to get to it. Then as I was walking along the shore I was excited to see a seal lying in the water. I whistled at it to get its attention until I realized it wasn’t sleeping or ignoring me – it was dead. I saw part of its flesh had peeled back to reveal jawbone. It must have been there for a long time. Of course the first seal I see up close is dead and decaying. Soon after, I almost stepped on a seal – a live one. I was walking along, concentrating on my footing because the rocks were slippery and wet, and I looked up only because I heard a growl that startled me. A sunbathing seal was only a few feet away. I heard someone laugh behind me and say, “I didn’t think you had seen him.” I turned to see a man readying his camera and thought, Thanks for the warning, ass. “Were you getting ready to take a picture just in case I stepped on him?” I replied. “Would have made for a good one, eh,” he said. Yeah at my expense, I thought but just smirked. He then offered to take my picture with the seal, probably in hopes that it would attack me in which case he’d switch to video, but I thought it was a nice gesture and consented. All in all it was a great walk, and I was happy to get out of my hostel and bask in the sun and fresh air of Kaikoura.

I went to a café for a small lunch after my walk and ended up in this adorable little café with an outdoor seating area overlooking the mountains. When my food arrived I realized I probably should have asked what kind of toasted bagels they served before ordering because the one set before me had toasted pumpkin seeds attached to it. Toasted pumpkin seed is not a normal bagel flavor. I suppose it hadn’t occurred to me to ask because I was just happy to see bagels on the menu. I used to eat a bagel as part of my Sunday morning ritual, but I hadn’t had one in New Zealand yet. I also ordered an iced coffee thinking it might be normal but it was an ice-less frothy drink. Both were decent and I was hungry.

I had the outdoor area to myself until an older woman joined me. I heard her laughing to herself as she read, which is something I do often as I’m now in the middle of a Bill Bryson book, so I looked over to see what she was reading. I caught a glimpse of “Adolph Hitler” in the title. Who laughs out loud while reading a book about Hitler? Definitely strange.

Journey to the South

2006-10-30T15:58:00.000+10:00

I left Wellington this morning on the Interislander Ferry, "Kaitaki," bound for Picton on the South Island. I've heard how beautifully scenic the south island is, and I'm excited to continue on my journey. I spent too much time in Wellington, a place I didn't particularly like. The city itself didn't have too much to offer in the way of sights and activities. It boasted myriad restaurants and bars, but not much else. The hostel was also one of the strangest places I've stayed at. It was super unfriendly, even the reception guy seemed to dislike me from the start, and the people gave off an exclusionary air. There was a group who had been living at the hostel for long stretches of time, some of them for almost a year, and they seemed totally uninterested in any new people passing through. At first I thought it was just me, but after speaking to a Dutch girl and a Welsh girl last night - both of who had just arrived - I found I wasn't the only one who had felt that way. It is the only hostel I've seen like that. Usually everyone at a backpacker's is open to meeting and greeting the numerous people that come and go. It's such a shame to me that people can dampen the experience of a whole city - not that I was very keen on Wellington anyhow. The hostel did have free internet, breakfast, and wine so I should give credit where credit's due.

The ferry ride over was fairly enjoyable. I have always thought boat travel to be a pleasant experience. I had a really nice day for it so I was able to stand on the sun deck and watch the ship pull away from the dock and Wellington. When I went below though I started to feel nauseous, which was strange because I'm not prone to sea sickness or any motion sickness for that matter. I actually fell asleep for about an hour and woke up feeling much better. I think I had just been tired from lack of sleep last night and waking up at 6:30 this moring to take the ferry.

I ordered fish and chips as a snack on the ferry for $5.50NZD. It's probably not a good sign when the french fries cost more than the fish, but I went for it anyway. The fish was actually really tasty in all of its greasy goodness. The fries, however, were undercooked and still partially potatoes. I had a problem with the squeeze-on ketchup packets though. One, for whatever reason I had pointed at myself, squirted all over my clothes immediately. Thankfully I was wearing my red jacket so it blended in well. The second packet I successfully squeezed on the french fries - and not on myself - but I think I got a little overzealous with my squeezing and the entire plastic packet shot back in my face. I think I should stick to ketchup bottles from now on.

I wasn't sure where I was heading when I landed on the south island, which is so unlike me. I usually have every place booked and planned way in advance. I suppose I've mellowed a bit over the past month and have become more of "go with the flow" as opposed to "rigid strategizer." At this rate, I'll be hitching by the time I reach the U.K.

I decided to make my way to Blenheim, a sleepy, little country town on the east coast. I stopped at one of the hostels I passed in town because I couldn't find the one I was actually looking for despite having three maps beside me. The first was fully booked so I headed to another one down the road called The Grapevine. I'm not totally impressed with the hostel or with Blenheim for that matter. I suppose it doesn't help that I arrived on some obscure public holiday that the whole town shuts down to celebrate. As for the hostel, I don't quite like the fact that there are no locks on any doors and everything has been infiltrated with dead bugs because the owners leave all the doors and windows open all day long. It was a bit disconcerting when I grabbed a bowl to put some salad in and ten dead flies fell from it when I tipped it over. I'm only staying the night so I suppose it'll have to do. As long as I have a warm bed to sleep in (preferably bugless) so I'm fully rested for my drive to Kaikoura tomorrow, I'm satisfied.

Laying Low

2006-10-28T14:12:00.000+10:00

On Thursday, I decided to make a trip to the National Tattoo Museum in Wellington. Apparently they use the term “museum” quite loosely. I don’t particularly consider a few hundred pictures of tattoos coupled with odd armor soldiers a museum. I even saw a Simpsons chessboard and Lord of the Rings figurines. I’m not sure how those particularly fit in or why they were there, but they were. The museum resembled someone’s old dust-covered attic full of long-forgotten, meant-to-be-sold-at-the-garage-sale crap. I had entertained the idea of getting a tattoo as they have an attached tattoo studio, but I feared they would use the tattoo needles displayed in the dirty cases and decided against it. I’d prefer to have my tattoo done at an immaculately clean parlor even if it means I can’t claim the honor of being tattooed at New Zealand’s National Tattoo Museum.

I had thought about going to Te Papa, the Museum of New Zealand, also but decided against it. I think I hit my Maori culture quota after I visited the Auckland Museum and experienced the concert and hangi in Rotorua. I figure once I’ve seen a few indigenous wooden carvings and tools – I’ve probably seen them all.

I tried to book my ferry over to the South Island on the Bluebridge Cooks Strait Ferry Line yesterday, only to find out their ships are inoperable due to maintenance. Thankfully the Interislander Ferry Line, which is a bit more expensive, was still running and had trips on Monday. I was originally going to leave on Sunday because Bluebridge doesn’t run on Mondays, but now I decided to leave a day later. It makes it a bit easier to pick up my rental car and I get an extra day in Wellington to explore.

Last night, I hung out at my hostel with a group of regulars who have been here for months. It was great to sit with people from all over the world and just hear how they get on and what their plans are for the future. I met an English girl, Beth, whose top three childhood movies are Goonies, Princess Bride, and Willow. I knew immediately we would get along well. No one I have ever met has even heard of Willow, nevermind actually lists it as one of his or her favorite childhood movies. I used to watch Willow incessantly as a child, and I have no idea why I even saw it in the first place – it is such an obscure movie. However, it was nice to see that despite being from different nations and raised in different atmospheres, some things are consistent across borders.

Today started as an absolutely fantastic day, weather-wise. I was actually able to wear short sleeves and not freeze my butt off. I took a walk into town and came upon a band playing out in the street so I listened for a while. Then I stopped into a Turkish restaurant for lunch today. One of the main reasons I chose it was for its name – AbraKEBABra – I thought it funny and original. I’ve never eaten so much Turkish food as I have since I’ve been in New Zealand. I don’t know if there’s just an overabundance of Turkish places so it’s constantly in my face and therefore on my mind or if I’m just really developing a taste for Middle Eastern cuisine. Indian has been another one of my favorites since I’ve arrived. I only ate at an Indian restaurant once when I was in New York, and I’ve already dined at quite a few Indian restaurants since I’ve been in New Zealand. Perhaps my palette is changing, and I’m losing interest in the American continental foods that I used to enjoy.

After lunch I made my way over to the Cable Car, which is supposedly a “must-do” in Wellington. The cable car makes it’s way along a path that ends at the Botanic Gardens. As I should have predicted, because luck does not seem to be with me when it comes to seeing sights and attractions, the cable car was closed due to annual safety checks. Of course it’ll reopen on Monday, the day that I leave for the south island. I contemplated taking the bus or some other transport up to the Botanic Gardens but the weather had taken a turn for the worse and I thought I might get stuck in the rain. I’ll possibly make my way up to the Gardens tomorrow if the weather turns out to be conducive to my plans.

Strike Two & Redemption for the Germans

2006-10-24T19:16:00.000+10:00

In Napier, I stayed at Toad Hall Hostel. There were four Germans staying there as well, two girls and two guys, whom I disliked, mostly from the start. I think it was the one’s face – it had a perpetual snotty, contemptuous smirk, which in turn I took as proof of the Germans’ superiority complex, and I was back to zero on the German/American friendship scale. It was her face, and the fact that all four of them did absolutely nothing day in and day out but sit and watch TV and type away on the computer. The computer, by the way, had free internet, which is virtually unheard of at a hostel, and they were obviously taking advantage of it. I just thought, what’s the point of vacationing or traveling if you see nothing but the inside of your hostel’s common room the entire time.

Now let me tell you what happened to redeem them in my eyes. Two nights ago, I was watching TV and eating dinner with the rest of the guests. After picking up my pizza, I had placed my bag hanging on the back of a chair. I woke up the next morning with the intention of calling Carlo for his birthday and reached for my bag to retrieve my phone cards, but the bag was nowhere to be found. Of course I freaked, Jenn-style, and tore up the place looking for it, banging on the manager’s door in the process. He told me no one had turned in a bag sending me on the verge of hyperventilation. I started to rundown the items in my bag – my bankcard, my credit card, my camera, my license, my rental car key, etc. He assured me he would check the other rooms and ask if anyone had seen it. A few minutes later, he came down the stairs with my bag in his outstretched hand. The Germans, who had seen my bag hanging on the chair last night, took it into their room for safekeeping with the intention of turning it in in the morning. I actually hugged the snobby German girl, probably to her disdain, but I was just so grateful. Oh, irony gets me every time. I suppose Germans aren’t that bad.

Yesterday, I went on a wine tour around Napier and Hawke’s Bay. We visited five different wineries in four hours and sampled tons of different wine varietals. The premise for wine tours and tastings is so funny to me. It seems like such a sophisticated activity to partake in to expand your enjoyment and knowledge of wine, yet the main result is drunkenness. Honestly, who uses the spittoon buckets anyway? Wine tours are almost like fancy pub crawls, just with wine glasses instead of plastic cups and cheese and crackers rather than pretzels and chips.

I made the trip to Wellington today, a four and a half hour drive from Napier in some nasty weather. Driving around Wellington is almost as frustrating as driving in New York City. The majority of the streets are one ways and are so narrow that the fear of ripping off the side view mirror is ever-present. There’s also absolutely no place to park whatsoever. You aren’t allowed to park on the streets until after 6pm and you must move your car by 8am. After phoning my rental car company and learning that I’d have to hang on to the car until tomorrow because I arrived too late to return it today, I searched for a spot and found one not too far from my hostel. The only problem was that it was only 5:30pm, and I didn’t want to abandon the car and risk getting a ticket. I actually sat in my freezing car for a half hour. At times I thought the wind would blow it over the edge of the hill I was perched on. Wellington isn’t dubbed “Windy Welly” for nothing. I’m looking forward to dumping the car tomorrow, because all it’s giving me at this point is anxiety. Cities are much better seen on foot anyhow.

Flying

2006-10-21T14:44:00.000+10:00

My hostel cancelled the trip to the Tongariro Crossing due to the weather forecast. I was frustrated to say the least – I had set aside one day only to do the hike and now it was a no-go. I thought about rearranging my travel schedule but that involved too many factors so I chalked it up to bad luck. Perhaps it’s a blessing in disguise. Because of my caving adventure in Waitomo, I’m still missing chunks of skin from my ankles (see right – and that’s after a week already) and just the pressure from my hiking boots was painful. I’m sure I would have been crying after 10 hours of hiking in them. However, I am annoyed that I woke up at 6am for no reason, and I wasted money on power water and trail mix at the store. The power water, I’m sure I’ll drink, though I generally dislike heavily flavored sports waters. The trail mix, however, will probably go in the garbage. On second inspection, it’s just peanuts, the worst nut ever, and raisins. It said “Nuts & Raisins” on the package, implying a variety of nuts. It’s false advertising. Had it been called “PEAnuts & Raisins,” I wouldn’t have bought it.

Instead of the hike, I spent the day indoors climbing on the climbing wall with a few friends that I met at the hostel, which kept me occupied for hours. There wasn’t much to do in Turangi other than the Tongariro Crossing, so my options were a bit limited. It was a lot more fun than I thought it would be and a great workout. I woke up with sore back muscles the next day.

Yesterday, I drove to Taupo with a few travel friends I met in Turangi. It was nice to have travel companions after so many lonely drives all over New Zealand. I went skydiving with my friend Wayne at Taupo Tandem Skydiving. I dropped from 12,000 feet over Lake Taupo, free-falling for 45 seconds before JK, my tandem partner, released the parachute. Once you’re strapped to your tandem master, there’s no turning back whether you want to or not. They just throw themselves out of the plane with you strapped on. It was an exhilarating experience with fantastic views of cobalt water and snow-capped mountains, but to tell the truth, I wasn’t scared or nervous in the least. I don’t know if my tiredness from lack of sleep the night before numbed my senses, but I just enjoyed the ride all the way down without a single heart palpitation. I think I was more intrigued by the experience than frightened. It’s something I would definitely do again, if money weren’t an issue, and something I would recommend to try at least once, just to feel the wind on your face and enjoy for a few seconds what it feels like to fly.

Cold and Hungry

2006-10-18T17:29:00.000+10:00

I tried to go hiking yesterday on some of Rotorua’s trails, but ended up walking in circles for an hour. I still got an hour of exercise, which was my main goal, but it would have been nice to see something other than the same scenery over and over again. They don’t seem to keep up their trails very well in Rotorua because I saw one, only one, trail marker the entire time I was walking. I did see it five times, but it was the same one. My other option would have been to drive to The Redwoods in Whakarewarewa Forest, but that was too much effort, and I wasn’t in the mood to drive anywhere anyway.

For dinner, I went to Indian Star Restaurant because I was in the mood for Indian food. It usually doesn’t settle well in my stomach, but I always enjoy it while I’m eating it. Since I hadn’t eaten lunch, I left my hostel around 4:30pm thinking I would grab an early dinner. When I got into town 5 minutes later, I realized all of the restaurants close between lunch and dinner and don’t re-open until 5pm, so I had to occupy myself in town for 25 minutes. I presented myself promptly at 5pm at Indian Star and had the entire place to myself. I didn’t mind being their only customer, I was just happy to be out of the cold. I have been perpetually freezing in New Zealand. I saw people in shorts and t-shirts on my way into town. Are they crazy? Maybe it’s just me that’s cold all of the time, but I was dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and a jacket, and I was still chilly. The only time I’m not cold is when I take my daily steaming-hot shower, but then it’s right back to my freezing room. I’m kind of looking forward to Australia – even if there is a hole in the ozone over the country – at least I’ll be toasty-warm all of the time.

I arrived in Turing today. The town itself is dead, I had a hard time finding lunch at 2:30, but I really like my hostel. I have a 4-person room all to myself, and after depositing my bags, I wondered how 4 people would even fit. Maybe it’s because the baggage I lug around equals what 4 would have. I signed up to do the Tongariro Crossing tomorrow, weather permitting. I’m hoping the weather is agreeable because that hike was one of my main goals in New Zealand.

I went for an hour walk today along the river with a friend I met here at the hostel. We walked the owners’ dogs, which was funny because I’m not particularly fond of dogs, but they kept their distance and didn’t lick me so we got along fine. I was mainly trying to get some exercise in today, in preparation for tomorrow, so I don’t completely shock my body with a rigorous hike. When I got back from the hike, I received upsetting family news via email, so I’m probably just going to lay low tonight at my hostel and turn in early because I have to be up at 6am in the morning.

Real Food. Real People.

2006-10-17T09:08:00.000+10:00

I spent most of the day on Sunday at the Polynesian Spa, which was voted in the Top 10 World’s Best Spas in Conde Nast Traveler 2005 and 2006. I didn’t go for the private pools, as they are under construction, just the public ones so it was 15NZD for an all day pass. The four public mineral pools were at varying temperatures from 38C to 42C (I have no idea what the conversion is to F so if you want to know, I suggest looking it up) and were situated overlooking the lake. It was quite relaxing and I was hoping the steam and minerals would help clear the sore throat I’d woken up with. It was a nice way to waste a day, but I ended up staying longer than I would have liked. I got stuck in a lengthy conversation with a man at the pool who felt the need to impart his life story, along with his quirks, his shortcomings, his romantic history, and everything else. I didn’t mind so much talking to him – he was somewhat interesting. He held nothing back – I suppose he doesn’t like to censor himself or is just socially inept – and I felt more like a psychologist than an acquaintance. I must have an inviting, approachable face or something – I never thought so, but lately all kinds of crazy have been engaging me in conversations I’d rather not partake in. I should pretend to either speak another language or be mute.

I went to Fat Dog Café for dinner that night, a funky, little place with poetry written on the furniture and walls. It was pretty busy though and I had to rush to a table before an old couple grabbed it first. Aren’t I the polite one? To be fair though, because I’m alone I do have to wait to claim a table until after I’ve ordered. Everyone else has the advantage of sending one half of the couple to the table while the other half orders. So I didn’t feel so bad barreling past an old lady to grab a spot – I was at a disadvantage after all.

Yesterday, I decided I wanted to try my hand at zorbing, a unique New Zealand invention where you roll down a hill inside a huge, inflatable ball. New Zealander’s, at least those in Rotorua, seem fairly proud of this invention and tout it as the next big thing in outdoor activities. When I got to zorb central, I found it would cost 45NZD to ride and they only had the hydro cycle available, in which they dispense water in the ball with you so you slip and slide, unharnessed inside, all the way down the hill. I watched a few runs and decided 45NZD was way too much to pay for such a short-lived ride. I could just situate my Slip & Slide down a hill and have possibly as much fun for free. Besides I wasn’t feeling particularly well and decided standing wet in the freezing cold probably wouldn’t help matters.

For dinner, I ended up at a café named Freos, whose slogan was “Real Food. Real People.,” as opposed to “Fake Food. Fake People.,” I guess. All I wanted all day was soup and after looking extensively during lunch and finding nothing, I decided to give it another go for dinner and happened upon this café. To my surprise, the café had actual waiters servicing the tables but I found only after I had sat down that their soup didn’t include bread. I would have exchanged the service for bread like all the rest of the cafes I’d encountered. But once I sat down, I felt trapped and unable to leave. When the soup arrived, I really wished I had left because the portions were so small I’d have to eat a second dinner anyway. The soup, which was chicken and capsicum (which I’d only learned two days earlier was pepper), was pretty tasty but not at all filling, so I slurped it up and moved on.

I sat outside on the upstairs porch when I got back to the hostel and admired the view thinking it would be one of the last times I’d see it. It made me appreciate that much more where I was at that moment. Then I spent the rest of the night listening to my iPod and dancing around my tiny, single room, which resulted in me tripping over my luggage several times. It brought me back to the days when Shannon and I used to dance and sing to Dar Williams and Jewel in college. Of course I didn’t sing – I didn’t want to send the rest of the guests running from the hostel – I only mouthed the words, but it had the same therapeutic effect. I realize, had anyone seen me, I would have looked like I was having an epileptic fit, but I was totally content to lose myself in the music of Sarah, Tori, Ani, et al., and that’s exactly what I did.

Brawling and Banging

2006-10-15T08:49:00.000+10:00

I headed down to the Wai-O-Tapu thermal reserve for a look around yesterday afternoon. The reserve, which has the largest area of surface thermal activity, boasts New Zealand’s most colorful and diverse volcanic area. It should also boast the worst smelling volcanic area. My eyes watered during the entire hour walk from the rotten egg smell hovering in the air. The scenery was terrific though, and I can attest to the spectrum of colors represented at the reserve from burnt orange to mint green. There weren’t many people, which was nice because I didn’t have to fight for trail space, and it gave me time to observe the nature around me. I’d forgotten how much I like hiking, I haven’t been on a backpacking trip with my father in a long time, and how much I enjoy that sense of accomplishment when you reach the end. Though it was a short hike, it wound all the way around the park and provided for optimal viewing of each of the different thermal activities. I took a ton of pictures on the way including ones of myself in front of mud pools and sulphuric craters. Sometimes I think it’s funny to take pictures of myself holding the camera at arms’ length. It looks like I’ve superimposed my head on a background scene.

After the thermal reserve, I headed to the supermarket to pick up some food for the rest of the week. When I used to shop at home, I’d zip through at a rapid pace and throw things into my cart as I went. I somewhat enjoy shopping in foreign countries because all the products are so foreign and new to me; but I usually end up placing a ton of stuff in my cart because it intrigues me at the time only to leave it at the check-out saying “I’ve changed my mind.” The thing is, I probably stood in the aisle for at least 5 minutes reading the descriptions of each of the products and the nutritional information deciding which one to go with. In the future I have to overcome my urge to impulse buy. It’d make for a much more efficient shopping trip.

I have to say that I really dislike the other lodgers at my hostel, barring the German, Franz, surprisingly. There are these 3 girls and all they do is cook and eat – very loudly – all day long, and unfortunately my room is right across from the kitchen. I think I’ve only been in the kitchen once without them being there, and that was only because I was passing through to go downstairs. They woke me up yesterday morning with their chattering and pot banging. I tried to stay asleep but it went on for an hour – honestly, how long does it take to make breakfast? And can’t they take turns at least to cut down on the noise – do all 3 of them have to cook at the same time?

I decided to take a walk through town before dinner last night, seeing as I had just eaten my usual Special K and fruit lunch, but Rotorua was absolutely dead. There were a handful of teenagers skateboarding at the City Focus building, but otherwise there was hardly a soul around. I’m thinking there’s a lull at certain times and it will liven up at night. I hope so – if this is what it’s like on a Saturday night, I wonder what the rest of the week looks like.

I decided to have a drink at the Pig & Whistle and possibly some dinner. I thought it was odd that there were no seats at the bar so patrons had to constantly get up from their tables to get a drink, but I guess the bartenders don’t work off tips so they could care less about socializing with the customers and making sure their drinks are topped off. I’m sure they don’t care if there’s a single person in the place – they still get paid. As long as they keep busy wiping the bar, which they did constantly spraying cleaner in every direction, and straightening glasses, they’ve done their day’s work.

Last night I headed to the Lava Bar with Franz, a bar that’s attached to one f the backpacking establishments in town. It was like a typical college bar, just with an international clientele. As the bar started to get crowded, the customers started to get drunker, and I decided it was time to leave. I was tired of being knocked into by screaming 18 year-old girls, who are allowed to drink in New Zealand, racing toward the dance floor, so I made my exit.

I was woken up again this morning by the rattling in the kitchen, but thankfully I think this was the 3 girls’ last morning here. Even more annoying, I was woken up at 3:45 in the morning by a brawling couple who apparently had drank too much Midori and Sprite. It went on for hours with banging and screaming. Just when I thought things were calming down, I’d hear a chair being thrown against the kitchen table. I thought about venturing out of my room to break up the fight or at least plead with them to be quieter, but I didn’t want to get punched in the process. Besides my bed was so cozy and warm. And I only learned this morning that it was a couple. I had thought it was 2 men, in which case I really didn’t want to be in the middle. I found out from Theresa, the proprietor, this morning that they were in their mid-40’s. You’d think they’d learn to control themselves by that age, but I guess some people never do. I’m hoping tonight I can actually get a full night’s rest uninterrupted by brawling and banging.

Kia Ora

2006-10-14T08:51:00.000+10:00

I arrived in Rotorua yesterday after a nice, scenic ride. I was glad to see, as I drove down the main road, that there was some life to the town, unlike Waitomo, which I liked but was a little too country for me. I found my hostel by chance after taking a few lefts and a right, and when I first saw it, I thought I had been scammed. From the road, it looked like an abandoned building and I started to list in my mind the hostels I had passed on my way in. However, when I went around back, I saw it was just undergoing some major renovations and was open and in full swing. The hostel is a big, sprawling mansion situated on Lake Rotorua. It features a grand staircase in the foyer, upstairs and downstairs wraparound porches, and an outside patio overlooking the lake. It reminds of a charming, long-forgotten southern estate house. The view from the upstairs porch is breathtaking – just sapphire blue water dotted with jutting green peninsulas. At 17US a night, this place was a steal. However, it seems as if not many know about this bargain with a beautiful view because I’m one of its only lodgers. No matter – I like the peace, the quiet, and the chance to roam around the place uninterrupted.

Last night I made a trip out to the Tamaki Maori Village. I signed up for the tour, which included access to the village, a Maori concert of traditional song and dance, and a hangi or feast, which is cooked underground and then served. It was all very interesting and involved, and after subsisting on Subway and Special K for the past week, I dug into the buffet feast with vigor. One of the highlights of the night was when my Australian tablemate called our English tablemate “backward” during the course of their beer discussion. I sat back in my chair and wondered what would happen next because the Englishman became all huffy after that comment. They continued to exchange quips until the Englishman pulled out the Australians-are-only-English-prisoners-anyway card, which ended the argument. I couldn’t help but burst out laughing, and the Australian took it in good stride. Mind you – these were 60 year-old men fighting.

Maori culture is such a big part of New Zealand, and until about 15-20 years ago it had been suppressed in the nation. The Maori people are only now beginning to reclaim their lands and their culture for themselves and share it with those willing to participate. Though touristy, the night was very informative and intimate, and I was happy to see and partake in an authentic representation of their culture.

This morning, while eating breakfast on the porch, I encountered a German staying at my hostel. I have to recant part of what I said about Germans, because he was super-friendly and even invited me out with him and some friends later on tonight. I guess they aren’t all bad after all.

I’m frustrated with the internet situation in New Zealand so far. I have been spending a fortune trying to connect. Yesterday, as I was driving through the town, I saw a Starbucks, and as they are known for their free wi-fi, I stopped in and asked about it. The employee nodded and smiled when I asked if they have free wi-fi as if it were a secret he wasn’t supposed to reveal. Anyhow, here I am in Starbucks and to my dismay the wi-fi is far from free. After trying to connect, I realized I’d have to buy an internet card like all the rest of the places, and I even bought a coffee first for 4NZD because I didn’t want to use their wi-fi without purchasing anything. I should complain to the Starbucks Corporation; they shouldn’t advertise free wi-fi if you have to pay 10NZD an hour to use it. I think they should reimburse my coffee as well because it was bought under false pretenses.

Just Like Home

2006-10-13T07:53:00.000+10:00

On Wednesday, I made it to Waitomo after a 4-hour drive with a ½ hour mishap. Route 21 wasn’t marked on my map so I had to backtrack a little, but I made it nonetheless. The B&B I’m staying at is situated on an ostrich and calf farm and is really cozy. My hosts Ann and Ross are super friendly, offer free breakfast, and have coffee available at all hours so they are top-notch in my book.

One of the perks of staying at Big Bird, my B&B, is getting to watch the owners feed the calves. I didn’t want to say “no” when Ross asked if I’d like to watch so I obliged. As I was watching the animals suck milk from a teeted trough, Ross told me all about rearing cows and what happens to them after they leave the farm. He described how the cows are sent to a dairy farm and the bulls are eventually slaughtered because their meat makes for such tasty, flavorful burgers. All I thought during the entire tutorial was “Thank God for him I’m not a vegetarian, animal-activist or would he have gotten an earful.” Instead I just nodded along and then excused myself explaining that I wanted to get to town to find an internet café before they all closed for the day (though it was only 4pm at the time).

When I returned from my brief trek into town, I found Ross on the deck, probably waiting for me, and he startled me with a “G’day, Jennifer.” Inside I encountered their 3 lively grandchildren, the oldest of whom insisted on showing me the book of local brochures over and over again. Most people who know me know I’m not a big lover of children, but they were cute enough – for 10 minutes. After the seventh time, 4 year-old Macaula described the glowworm cave adventures I could partake in, I decided it was time for dinner – elsewhere. “You didn’t expect to be part of a family household, did you?” Ann inquired on my way out. You got that right, I thought.

The good thing about B&B’s is the home-ness factor (as I call it). They’re comfortable and make you feel as if you’re sitting in your own living room. The bad thing about B&B’s is also the home-ness factor. They’re suffocating and make you feel as if the price of sitting in your own faux living room is babysitting and letting them know when you’ll be expected back. I prefer to come and go as I please without having to answer the unasked questions on their expectant faces as I reach for the doorknob to leave. I decided, though hostels can be impersonal, I enjoy freedom to home-ness.

Yesterday was my big caving adventure, the Haggas Honking Holes. The trip wandered deep into the ground to the glowworm caves of Waitomo where we were underground for about 2 hours. I was able to abseil down into the caves, which was a first and definitely unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. The glowworms looked like little stars on the ceiling of the cave. I had a lot of fun doing it, though at times it was a little rough hoisting myself up rock walls in a wetsuit and boots filled with water. I had originally contemplated embarking on a much longer trip, but I’m glad that I didn’t – two hours in a smelly, clinging wetsuit was enough for me. Luckily there were only three of us on the trip with three guides so it was pretty fast moving. Tony, one of the guides, said they’d had 12 people earlier that morning and it took a long time to get everyone through. Because our group was so small, they also added a few extra climbs and whatnot. It was an overall very fun experience.

After I surfaced and took the most refreshing shower of my life, I set out in search of food. I tried two places right by the caves but they both stopped serving at 8 they told me, implying I should move on – it was 7:45pm. Who stops serving food at 8pm? That’s right in the middle of dinnertime, but not for Waitomo. Apparently they’re on the early bird schedule – their early dinner deals must be from 1-3 in the afternoon rather than from 4-6 like most everywhere else. So I ended up where I had dined the night before, the Thirsty Weta, which thankfully was still open and even had a late night menu. I ordered the vegetarian pizza, thinking I could get my recommended daily intake in, and it was quite good but not your run of the mill vegetable pizza. The Thirsty Weta’s version included vegetables like parsnip, carrots, and I think there might have even been sweet potato in there, instead of the usual mushroom, pepper, and onion. I probably would’ve eaten cardboard pizza at this point anyway so I savored the variety and devoured it entirely.

I ate breakfast with a grandmother and her 2 grandchildren from the Cook Islands this morning. Interestingly, they told me they had another sibling, a baby boy, but they gave him to their father's relations, as they put it. When I raised my eyebrows in surprise, the grandmother explained that it is a custom for one family to give another family, who has no children, their child. What? So let me put this in perspective. At the time Samantha was born, Aunt Joanne and Uncle Bob hadn't had Nick, so they could have asked for Samantha and we would have had to hand her over as if she were furniture or something. "Well we don't have a bed and you have three beds, so can we have your extra one?" Who the hell came up with that custom?

Ruminations on Cultural Differences

2006-10-12T08:04:00.000+10:00

I’ve been meeting so many people so far from all over the world and here are the nationalities I’ve liked and gotten along with so far:
New Zealanders
Australians
Irish (obviously)
Austrians
Scottish
Welsh

Here are the nationalities I don’t particularly like:
Germans

I don’t know what it is about them that I don’t like (at least the ones I’ve met for I don’t want to make sweeping generalizations in part because I am German and have family members from Germany and because I’m not the sweeping generalization type), but something about them rubs me the wrong way. Perhaps it’s that smug look in their eye that makes you feel you have to explain yourself to their satisfaction or that I’m-better-than-you-and-you-should-be-eradicated-from-the-face-of-the-earth tone in their voice or maybe it’s because they stick together and speak German solely for the purpose of excluding everyone else when they’re perfectly capable of joining the English conversation happening two feet away. They are almost as bad as the French.

Most of this conclusion arose from a brief conversation I had with a German staying at the same hostel I was. As I spoke to him, he just stared at me as if wondering if I were worthy of an answer, not even nodding or anything. So I continued to talk and mentioned to him that I had been to the bone-carving studio that morning and would recommend it. “It’s very close, right next to the museum,” I added. His retort: “I don’t want to see museums, I want to see a nation.” Point taken. My thought: “Why? So you can figure out best how to take over the place? In that case, a bit of history might actual be useful.”

Beating the Rain

2006-10-11T07:21:00.000+10:00

I took a walk down to the beach on Monday night and stood at the top of the dunes looking out over the calm, inky water of Mercury Bay. Though I could feel the chill penetrating my clothes, I was rooted to the spot in awe of the boundless beauty that lay before me. I was at total peace, enjoying the quiet sanctity of the beach. It was as comfortable as the silence that echoes between two true companions.

I went to the bone-carving studio yesterday morning to carve my own Maori necklace out of bone. It took me about 2 ½ hours, but was fun and very different. There was an array of Maori designs to choose from and I chose the fishhook. It symbolizes strength, authority, and leadership, and is part of a long Maori legend. It was an interesting activity that I would recommend to anyone if the opportunity ever arises.

Later on, when the weather started to get nice again, I decided to take a drive over to Cathedral Cove, a picturesque stretch of beach with a huge limestone arch. The beauty of Cathedral Cove was surreal. The sky and the bay seemed to melt into each other. My photos look like they’re pages torn from a “Most Scenic Landscapes” calendar. The weather in Whitianga is the most fickle I’ve ever seen, and as soon as I reached my car, it started to hail. It had been glaringly sunny just 5 minutes earlier. I should have expected it though. During my bone carving session that morning, it had poured then cleared five times over the course of 2 ½ hours. I’m lucky I got back to my car when I did and didn’t get stuck standing underneath the cove waiting for it to let up.

I stopped at a café on my way out of Hahei, where Cathedral Cove is located, to wait out the rain. I wanted to stop at Hot Water Beach that day as well so I was hoping the sun would show again soon. I had a quiche and a brownie at the café. The quiche, they had microwaved, and as most things that are microwaved, it was hot in some places and cold in others. The brownie was like most café desserts – it looked great in the case, but offered no appeal once on the plate or in my mouth for that matter. Just as I started on my brownie, the sun came out and I thought I might try to beat the rain to Hot Water Beach so I wrapped the rest in case I was in the mood for a dry, cakey brownie later on.

I made it to Hot Water Beach while the sun was still shining, and it was one of the strangest places I’ve ever seen. There were hordes of people on the beach digging massive, steaming holes in the sand and wading in the pools as if they were hot tubs. The water, which I wondered if it would actually be hot, was scalding and turned my feet an instant bright crimson when I stepped into a pool of it. I had brought my bathing suit, but the weather was too cold to expose anything but my feet and lower legs so I left it in the car. It seemed Hot Water Beach turned people to instant children. Full-grown adults were laying in the sandy water making water angels, one woman whom every time she dug a hole and put her foot in it guffawed with delight, the deep throaty laugh of a long-time smoker, and another man dug his hole so fast and intensely that he looked like a cartoon character in fast forward. If it were summer, or at least a little warmer, I probably would have joined the antics, but I stuck to my small pool of water. I wanted to stay longer but the rain had found me again, and I headed back to my hostel for the night.

Left-Side Driving to Resort Town

2006-10-09T16:19:00.000+10:00

My first New Zealand road trip was a success. I made it to Whitianga and my hostel without getting lost. I’m fairly proud of myself considering the roads were less than stellar. I don’t think they could have added any more perilous curves and turns if they tried though. The road to Whitianga seemed to be cut into the side of a mountain and curved around like a roller coaster. It was my first experience driving on the left side of the road and though it’s strange at first, I got used to it pretty quickly. However, every time I went to signal I pushed down on the windshield wipers rather than the directional because it’s on the right side of the steering wheel rather than the left. I also always went to put on my seat belt by reaching to my left when the belt is on the right. Years of driving result in automatic motions when you get behind the wheel, no matter if the wheel is on the right or the left.

Driving on the left does skew your perception a bit though. When pulling into the gas station, I pulled too close to the pump and knocked the fuel handle off. Thankfully the gas attendant took pity on me and laughed rather than yelled. When I was leaving, he even assured me that he would be there to help me on my return down from Whitianga if I needed gas again. It was a strange comment, but nice just the same. I also came too close to a road cone and flipped my left-hand mirror in when I hit it. Thank God it didn’t break off.

When they gave me a sheet to look over the car this morning and mark any previous damage (so I won’t be liable upon returning the car), I should have just made random marks all over indicating scratches that I inevitably will put on the car in the future, but I had no such foresight. I guess I’ll just have to stop hitting things. I’ve only hit one thing in all my years of driving, and now I’ve hit two things in one day while driving in New Zealand. I’ll blame it on my left-hand driving inexperience, thank you very much.

After I settled in, I decided to go for some food in town. I tried Snapper Jack’s, as I was told they have great fish and chips, but when I got there, the doors were locked. I noticed the takeaway window was open so I went in to inquire about the restaurant. The counter lady informed me the restaurant had been open this morning, but was now closed because their cook had walked out on them. Interesting, I thought. She said they’d like to open, but can’t at the moment. But then another woman appeared from the back and said she’d open the restaurant for me. I don’t know if she was the cook, who had since returned during the strange conversation I had with the counter lady, or another employee who had a handle on the basics of the fryer. Either way, I was let into the restaurant and happily sat down to a meal of fish and chips, real authentic New Zealand fare. I yelled “Thank you” on my way out and I almost wanted to add “You can lock up the restaurant again,” but didn’t.

Whitianga is a bit strange. They exude that small town, anti-big-city mentality, which really just serves to mask their jealousy. I strolled back into town around 5pm in search of an internet café. I was one of about 7 people in the whole town. It was completely deserted at 5pm on a Monday – shops closed, café tables locked inside. No wonder they hate the big cities – they have all this time to sit in their houses and grumble over what they are missing.

Whitianga is a typical beach town, akin to Montauk or Cape Cod, and there certainly wasn’t anything else around to do except enjoy the beach, but even today the sky was overcast and the wind blew the chill from the water in my direction. I decided it would be best to lay low at my hostel tonight and plan pitches for magazine articles I plan to write.

Restaurant Gripes

2006-10-08T18:58:00.000+10:00

I spent Saturday afternoon ambling around Parnell Village, a quaint little part of Auckland. I decided to hole up at a café for a little while and try a flat white in the hope of finding the sort of coffee I’d been looking for. At first glance, the drink set before me was a frothy concoction, and I swear I heard the waitress say “Latte?” as she put it down at my table, and for some reason, I had ordered a large. I have a habit of ordering a large even when I don’t know what it is that I’m ordering. I guess I just like torturing myself by ordering huge quantities of things I don’t like so I can acutely feel the financial loss every time I discard the item. I should just throw my money in the garbage. However, I was determined to drink the jumbo-size “non-coffee,” and once I got past the five inches of foam, which refused to dissipate even after several vigorous stirs, it wasn’t half bad. It wasn’t quite coffee, but it was decent enough. I think I’m giving up on finding coffee and from now on, I’ll just order whatever strikes me when I get to the espresso counter.

Soon after, I checked out the shops in the village and happened upon this small wool store where I bought a beautiful handmade wool scarf. The saleslady wasn’t sure if she could even sell it to me because it was marked “sample,” but she decided to throw caution to the wind and risk scolding by her boss and sold it to me anyway. I was pleased.

I worked up an appetite strolling around the village and stopped into an Italian restaurant. I’ve been craving pizza since I arrived and this place, La Porchetta, was the only one so far that billed itself as an Italian pizzeria as opposed to the Middle Eastern pizzerias scattered around called “Istanbul Pizza and Kebab” or something of the sort, which could have been very good but were somewhat off-putting. La Porchetta turned out to be very tasty and cheap.

I had planned nothing for today, but I didn’t really mind. Sometimes, though, when I’m not doing anything, I think I should find something to do. But then I think about when I was home and I did absolutely nothing most of the time. Why is it that when you’re in a foreign country, you feel you have to fill every minute with sightseeing or touring or some cultural activity? I consider sitting at a café, people watching, a form of cultural immersion so that’s what I decided to do. I spent half the day at Little Turkish Café, a small place on K Rd., where I had dined a few days ago. The food was great and they serve the best hummus I’ve ever tasted.

For dinner, I went to an Asian noodle restaurant. When the waitress handed me utensils, I noticed she had tucked a fork into the napkin along with chopsticks. I thought at first it was because I was the only Caucasian in the place, but then I just thought I was being reverse-racist and assumed they probably do that for everyone. But then I watched her put down place settings for the numerous Asians who walked in the door and not a one contained a fork. I laughed. If they feel the need to supply me with a fork at an Asian restaurant in New Zealand, imagine what they’ll give me when I’m in Southeast Asia – probably a ladle, for how else would I be able to get anything into my mouth they’ll think. I left the fork unused next to my finished dish of chicken curry and rice.

I booked a rental car to drive all over both islands, which I’ll pick up tomorrow and drive to Whitianga. I had originally planned to buy a car at the Backpacker’s Car Market, but after discussing the pros and cons of renting vs. buying with Phillipa, the hostel travel agent, I decided against buying. She made it abundantly clear that buying would surely result in financial loss and great, all-around risk. Tomorrow will be my first experience driving on the left side of the road. I hope I don’t forget to yield when making a right.

Ruminations on Auckland

2006-10-07T08:22:00.000+10:00

Here are a few observations about Auckland that I find interesting:

1) When I got to the corner of Queen and Wellesley (I always somehow end up on Queen no matter where I intend to go), I heard the buzzer signaling it was safe to cross the street and to my amazement, for I had never seen anything like it, every person on all four corners crossed the street at once – diagonally. Who crosses diagonally? I laughed out loud at the oddity of the situation. If you crossed a street diagonally in New York City, a cab would undoubtedly flatten you in less than two seconds.

2) To tell you the truth, I didn’t realize how clean Auckland was until I saw a girl walking barefoot across the street – for what reason, I have no clue. I would never walk barefoot in New York City. God only knows what I’d step on. But there she was waddling along as if it were normal, and it dawned on me that there wasn’t a piece of litter in sight. Either Aucklanders are super-diligent about not letting a piece of trash slip from their fingers or they pay an awful lot on city sanitation. I’d have to go with the latter considering that in every café I’ve stopped in, the customers have left their trash on the tables for the employees to throw out. Didn’t their mothers teach them to clean up after themselves?

3) I can’t figure out New Zealand’s coffee situation for the life of me. The choices consist of long black, short black, flat white, etc. What does that mean, I couldn’t tell you. And I’ve asked six people so far what “normal” coffee is, and they’ve all given me different answers. I don’t think they understand my question; to them, it’s all coffee. I’ve tried all kinds of combos so far to see what tastes like coffee as I know it. I tried Dunkin Donuts, thinking it was a safe bet, because they’re known for coffee. That was a bad idea. Apparently the New Zealand branch of Dunkin Donuts only serves dressed-up water. I tried espresso poured into hot water with milk (Americano but not really American). I tried a short black with skim milk, which they put in the smallest cup ever and charged 3NZD for – it’s extortion, Starbucks’ style. I was told that what I’m actually looking for is a flat white. I’m hesitant to try it and spend yet another 3NZD on something I’ll eventually just throw out after 5 sips because it’s undrinkable. Maybe I’ll just have to wean myself off coffee for the remainder of my stay in New Zealand.

Out and About

2006-10-07T07:42:00.000+10:00

The first day I spent walking all around Auckland. I walked to the Viaduct Harbor, over to the Sky Tower, the tallest building in the southern hemisphere, and up and down the streets of the city center. After I got back to the hostel, exhausted from my few-hours walk and calves burning from traversing the hills of Auckland, I decided to take a nap. That nap turned into a 12-hour comatose sleep and that was the end of day one.

On Thursday, I decided that I’d do some sightseeing. I caught the free shuttle to Kelly Tarlton’s Underwater World, where I saw penguins, sharks, stingrays, and hordes of interesting looking fish. After, I decided that I would check out the Auckland Art Gallery. Art galleries only half appeal to me. I like the idea of them, but most often boredom sets in really quickly. I took a lap around the gallery, which didn’t contain many impressive paintings (but what do I know), and it was back to the streets for me. I have to say that I'm able to navigate the city pretty easily for only being here a few days. I barely have to consult the map. Dad – you would be proud of me.

The highlight of Thursday was doing the Sky Jump off Sky Tower. It’s a 192m base wire jump off a building – I did it twice because the guide offered me a second jump for free. The first time I went down forward and the second time I did backward, which is a bit disconcerting because you fall backward off the platform without seeing where you’re falling. It was exhilarating but didn’t last as long as I would have liked. It was a good starting point for the rest of my extreme sport escapades.

Yesterday, I spent at Auckland Museum and Lionzone Breweries, which ended with a beer tasting. Carlo – you would have loved it. I met two girls from California who gave me some good tips on wine tasting in Napier/Hawkes Bay, a place farther along on my itinerary. I planned to go to Parnell Village also, but was so cold that I headed back to my hostel instead. I wasn’t planning on the weather being so frigid and it’s only going to get colder as I travel south.

After I grabbed a jacket, I walked to K Rd., one of the main thoroughfares, to grab something to eat. I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast at 8 that morning, which is probably why I was slightly buzzed off two small half-pints of beer at the brewery. It seems so far that food is the first thing to go – I eat more as an afterthought or out of necessity, rather than out of wanting to enjoy the experience. I should probably try to sample the local cuisine more, but it’s a bit intimidating. I haven’t encountered a single restaurant with actual waiters yet. They all seem to be self-serve cafes or places you order and seat yourself, which half the time leaves me standing in the doorway trying to figure out the menu while the employees wonder what I’m doing. I’m hoping to explore K Rd. more today. There are tons of boutiques, shops, and vintage stores – not that I need any more clothes or anything.

Last night, I went out to Globe Bar with a few people I met while doing the Sky Jump. It was actually a lot of fun, not much different from bars/clubs in New York. The music I have to say was great. Sheryl – they played Madonna’s Like a Prayer, which reminds of me of that time at Pi Lam. I had a great time and was happy that I got to see Auckland at night, since the previous few nights I’ve been passing out at 7pm out of exhaustion.

I Have Arrived

2006-10-04T09:25:00.000+10:00

I've finally landed in Auckland after an arduous flight in which I lost an entire day. I can't say that I lived through October 3rd, 2006 because I didn't. I skipped right to October 4th. Anyhow the flight from NY to Tahiti was rough to say the least. I sat next to a smelly frenchman whose hair hung down to his waist. Everytime he turned his head, it tickled my skin and not in a good way. I hate feeling my own loose strands attached to other parts of my body, nevermind someone else's. I didn't sleep much during the first 12-hour flight because my mind was racing with anticipation. Thankfully, I slept the majority of the 6-hour connecting flight from Tahiti to Auckland and arrived here around 7 am this morning.

After lugging my ridiculously heavy bags uphill to my hostel to check in, I settled in to my small but comfortable room, and set out to find an internet connection. After repeated attempts at various internet cafes and emailing anyone who has a clue about internet connections (I had to use the cafe's computer), I gave up and came back to my hostel, where to my delight I found I could purchase a wi-fi card right at my hostel, albeit for a ridiculous 10 dollars for 2 hours, but I have no other options. Anyhow, now I'm sitting in the hostel lobby typing away at my blog when I probably should be out exploring the city of Auckland and all it has to offer. I reason that I hadn't counted today as an actual day of sightseeing anyhow so I'll probably just lounge around and acclimate myself to my new surroundings. From what I've seen, which wasn't much from the cab, Auckland looks a little like an upscale Chinatown. I'll have to investigate some more today and tomorrow and get back to you on that one.

By the way, the luggage I brought was the absolute worst idea in the history of travel. Not only did I have to take out half of my stuff at the airport and transfer it to another bag because I was way over the alloted weight, but the other bag (after unwrapping the shrink wrap) ballooned to the size of a small car. I could have fit 6 bodies in that bag, which also didn't make it very easy to carry. But I made it, as I'm sure I always will. I just have to chuck both bags and purchase smaller, more manageable totes. Hindsight is such a beautiful thing.

Anyhow I'm starving. I've barely eaten since my airplane crepe breakfast, so I'm done for now. I'll probably pay another ridiculous sum of money tomorrow to update you all on my (mis)travels thus far. Hope everyone is doing well. Stay tuned...