Just a quick note about watching the Olympics from a different perspective--from that of a small country whose individual accomplishments make those athletes long remembered in New Zealand sports history (almost any Kiwi can tell you their Gold medal distance runner in 1976). Of course, any heat, semifinal, or final with a Kiwi athlete participating automatically meant viewers here sat on the edge of their seats rooting for their compatriot and by virtue of that participation meant they were often the centerpiece of conversation in idle time. New Zealand won nine total medals and each one, including the bronzes, were cherished, which, I think as an American we too often lose sight of in light of the fact that in many instances we feel a bit let down if we don't win Gold. For these Olympics, the U.S. takes solace in the fact that although we didn't win the most Gold medals, we once again won the most overall and this despite some obvious disappointments in track and field (Michael Phelps notwithstanding).
However, though I think China put on a well-run games and demonstrated an organizational efficiency that comes with the idea that society comes before individual, I can't in good faith celebrate either their attempts to put lipstick on the pig (with great facilities and visually stunning opening and closing ceremonies) or their athletic success, which you just know comes at a price for the individuals involved in it. I really hate making this about politics, but the games struck me as remarkably disingenuous as one of the most elaborate facades of modern times. Until China leaves behind its hold on systemic corruption and state-sponsored athletics, its nearly perverse insecurity before the eyes of the West, and its submission to government control from cradle to grave, I will continue to hope that Taiwan beats it in ping-pong.
For a good synopsis of the Chinese definition of athletic success, this link is a must-read:
http://sports.yahoo.com/olympics/news?slug=dw-medalcount082208&prov=yhoo&type=lgns
Oh yeah, go U.S.A.!
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Poker derelict
So, I managed to grab a seat at the National Pub Poker League Bottom of the South Regional Poker Final this past Saturday, alongside 149 other players from cities like Invercargill, Dunedin, Queenstown, and some smaller towns in between. The top 25 finishers got an automatic entry into the New Zealand National Poker Championship in Christchurch in October. I finished 32nd--the last of the seven alternates. I may have been able to hold on through some big blinds to finish in the top 25, but figured I probably won't be here in October anyway, so what's the point? I played okay, but definitely would have made the cut had I won my last hand, when someone put me all-in pre-flop. I put him on Ace-King to my pocket fours, which, as it turns out, is exactly what he had. It was a good call by me and a good push by him. He caught a King on the turn to win and take me out. By that time, the Jack Daniels girls who were selling drinks in the room had left, so there was nothing to look at except a bunch of dudes with serious attitudes and dreams of poker riches. I would have happily exchanged the 4.5 hours of play for a drink with one of the girls.
There are two roving poker companies in town who host the Sunday-Thursday poker tournaments at the pubs. About three weeks ago, one of them had his final at 11am on a Sunday morning for the 50 or so who qualified. I started well but blew a big hand and went downhill pretty quickly from there, finishing maybe 15th or so. The other company has their final this Sunday, so I'm looking forward to being sucked out on again like I was last night, by a first-time player who had no business at the table. So says the bitter vanquished. I've managed to win two tournaments and make a bunch of other final tables, but the one enduring lesson from this is an appreciation for professionals who sidestep landmine after landmine in daily tournaments to make a living at the game. It really is quite an accomplishment just to make the final table at a 50 person tournament, much less a 1,500 player tournament or 4,000 player tourney. The one built-in advantage of the pub tournaments is that a bunch of the players buy raffle tickets for $5 or $10 and if their card is drawn receive 5,000 or 10,000 in extra chips. For doing nothing, essentially, except contributing to the revenue of the poker company staging the tournament. So, I don't put too much stock in winning these tournaments because I'm opposed to buying the raffle, while others could be short-stacked, win the raffle, and be in good position to make the final table. Anyway, the moral of the story: poker is about luck, yes, to some degree, but it's just as much about betting, and that's the reason you see the professionals finish consistently higher than you do amateurs, keen on winning a $500,000 tournament and then vanishing into the ether.
I'm soliciting for a sponsor. And a Jack Daniels girl.
Not necessarily in that order.
There are two roving poker companies in town who host the Sunday-Thursday poker tournaments at the pubs. About three weeks ago, one of them had his final at 11am on a Sunday morning for the 50 or so who qualified. I started well but blew a big hand and went downhill pretty quickly from there, finishing maybe 15th or so. The other company has their final this Sunday, so I'm looking forward to being sucked out on again like I was last night, by a first-time player who had no business at the table. So says the bitter vanquished. I've managed to win two tournaments and make a bunch of other final tables, but the one enduring lesson from this is an appreciation for professionals who sidestep landmine after landmine in daily tournaments to make a living at the game. It really is quite an accomplishment just to make the final table at a 50 person tournament, much less a 1,500 player tournament or 4,000 player tourney. The one built-in advantage of the pub tournaments is that a bunch of the players buy raffle tickets for $5 or $10 and if their card is drawn receive 5,000 or 10,000 in extra chips. For doing nothing, essentially, except contributing to the revenue of the poker company staging the tournament. So, I don't put too much stock in winning these tournaments because I'm opposed to buying the raffle, while others could be short-stacked, win the raffle, and be in good position to make the final table. Anyway, the moral of the story: poker is about luck, yes, to some degree, but it's just as much about betting, and that's the reason you see the professionals finish consistently higher than you do amateurs, keen on winning a $500,000 tournament and then vanishing into the ether.
I'm soliciting for a sponsor. And a Jack Daniels girl.
Not necessarily in that order.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Queenstown
I've been blog-negligent lately. So I thought since I do the blog primarily to satisfy my personal need to have a record for a later time, when my memory is even more clouded than it currently is, I had better update that record before I forget I was even in New Zealand. In like three weeks.
After three months in Queenstown, it's not hard to imagine why the town has such a pull to it--quaint, young, scenic, and alive, it hit its stride in July just as the snow settled on the tops of the surrounding resorts. Winterfest has come and gone, that 10 day festival with Mardi Gras, live music, and crowds eager to drink the nights away in preparation for the following days' descent on snowboards and skis. The weather is predictably cold, but not that cold, which is saying something because I'm a native Atlantan, which is a euphemism for "I like it hot." It was much colder in Prague, which I can't really understand because I looked at a globe in the library the other day (a globe with pre-1991 USSR on it, North Yemen, South Yemen, etc--their books are on rolls of papyrus and their history books stop after the Industrial Revolution. I made that last part up. And the papyrus part, too.), and Queenstown is at 45 degrees South, which is really freakin' south. If you trace the latitude all the way around the planet, only the very southern part of Chile and Argentina stretch further south than that. The air is remarkably dry, however, which might explain the dearth of snow in town and the relative abundance of sunny skies during the winter. Relative because, of course, after building an ark in Russell during the summer, I'm kind of disappointed that my new wood working and animal husbandry skills won't be needed down here. I'd say that even Atlanta is as cold as Queenstown, generally speaking, which either speaks well of Global Warming--which I'm all for-- or speaks poorly of Global Cooling, which most scientists were warning us about 30 years ago. Basically, it's a win-win situation down here.
Before I paint too rosy a picture of our quaint little ski town, I should mention that I've been sick quite often down here--from sore throats and juicy coughs, to a recently conquered fever and dry cough that made me long for the days of those juicy coughs. I don't know if it's the dry air, the dampness inside the house, or the incessant marijuana smoke that hovers in the family room as my roommate punishes a bong all day long. It may also be the incestual poker tournaments that I've been known to frequent a few days a week--essentially, 50 walking incubators coughing on their hands and then molesting a playing deck, which in turn gets manhandled by yours truly. I'm going with a combination "weed-damp-card" excuse for my new octogenarian immune system. I've gone from a vitamin-popping, gym-addicted, young-looking 34 year old to The English Patient in three weeks. No wonder they have Universal Healthcare down here--between the cigarettes, weed, and Bangladeshi-like dampness, half the population would be addicted to various cold-flu medications with homemade meth labs in their basements if they had to pay $250 each time their doctor told them to "rest."
Yes, a lot of marijuana in New Zealand...but very few Mexicans and Colombians. Which means that the proverbial "New Zealand ingenuity" of which most Kiwis are proud, extends about two inches and requires feats of engineering including packing, rolling, and lighting.
Speaking of my inveterate gambling addiction, there is a thriving poker culture in town, one in which I get to see the same 40 people every night, five nights a week, playing no-limit hold'em for 4 hours trying to win a $50 bar tab and pride. I've managed to win two such tournaments and finish second or third at a few others, which basically means that I'm considering a playing career in Vegas in the near future and am only one sponsor away from listing on my resume under 'Hobbies,' "hitting on cocktail waitresses and 9-3 off-suit." Poker is my girlfriend, which is both bad and good. Bad, because I'm now quite intimate with a biological weapon--a deck of cards, and good because the poker tournaments are free and I don't know of any girlfriend that's free.
By the way, if I ever got a tattoo, it wouldn't be Aces up the sleeve, it'd be far more appropriate--9-3 offsuit. One of my roommates just got a tattoo yesterday and it looks rather trite, if you ask me. And bloody. And painful.
At what point do tattoos become passe, you ask? I'm glad you did. I say they've reached that point already. But with the plethora of Maori tribal designs on Maori and Whitey skin alike, I'm sure NZ will continue to pump out inked-up Kiwis as more people strive to assert their individuality by conforming with everyone else.
Did I ever mention that I retired as Russell's ping-pong champion. No, I don't think I did. Okay, so I retired as Russell's ping-pong champion. I was both the unstoppable force and the immovable object. Chinese diplomats showed up to try to get me to acquiesce to citizenship, but I deferred, citing the whole Communist thing. They wanted me to train with their top ping-pong...excuse me, table-tennis Olympians, but I told them my future included walking pneumonia, early-onset emphysema, and a touch of bacterial meningitis down in Queenstown. Seriously though, I was so good up there in Russell that I will now type about it in the third person. CT played several hundred games all told, and lost but twice. CT believes he has a natural athletic gift in his ping-ponging and is proud to be revered in the hall of Russellian history as 2008 Champion. Sadly, CT realizes that once he turned down the Chinese, his ping-pong future became rather limited...where does CT go next? He has yet to find a table in Queenstown and, even if he did, what else does he have to prove? Do you climb K-2 after climbing Everest? I don't think so. The thrill is gone for CT, so he has decided to instead to invest his time and emotional energy into a game with far more probability, luck, and indeterminism. We wish CT nothing but the best.
I was teaching three Korean girls how to speak English. That gig has run its course, however, so I will most likely soon be looking to book a return flight back to the States, so as to catch the end of summer and the beginning of football season. With no plan, I hasten to step into the abyss once more. Plus, it's been nearly 11 months since I left and, being fairly satisfied that I've seen a lot of what New Zealand has to offer, and hence have come closer to understanding why the country is so naturally beloved, I feel like George W. Bush as he stood on that aircraft carrier in May 2003 with a banner overhead proclaiming, "Mission Accomplished." Which means I probably should spend the next 5 years wandering around the wilderness before asking for directions to the airport. In any event, the easy part, in retrospect getting on the plane, is coming to a close. The next chapter becomes, once more, difficult to write..."What's Next?"
After three months in Queenstown, it's not hard to imagine why the town has such a pull to it--quaint, young, scenic, and alive, it hit its stride in July just as the snow settled on the tops of the surrounding resorts. Winterfest has come and gone, that 10 day festival with Mardi Gras, live music, and crowds eager to drink the nights away in preparation for the following days' descent on snowboards and skis. The weather is predictably cold, but not that cold, which is saying something because I'm a native Atlantan, which is a euphemism for "I like it hot." It was much colder in Prague, which I can't really understand because I looked at a globe in the library the other day (a globe with pre-1991 USSR on it, North Yemen, South Yemen, etc--their books are on rolls of papyrus and their history books stop after the Industrial Revolution. I made that last part up. And the papyrus part, too.), and Queenstown is at 45 degrees South, which is really freakin' south. If you trace the latitude all the way around the planet, only the very southern part of Chile and Argentina stretch further south than that. The air is remarkably dry, however, which might explain the dearth of snow in town and the relative abundance of sunny skies during the winter. Relative because, of course, after building an ark in Russell during the summer, I'm kind of disappointed that my new wood working and animal husbandry skills won't be needed down here. I'd say that even Atlanta is as cold as Queenstown, generally speaking, which either speaks well of Global Warming--which I'm all for-- or speaks poorly of Global Cooling, which most scientists were warning us about 30 years ago. Basically, it's a win-win situation down here.
Before I paint too rosy a picture of our quaint little ski town, I should mention that I've been sick quite often down here--from sore throats and juicy coughs, to a recently conquered fever and dry cough that made me long for the days of those juicy coughs. I don't know if it's the dry air, the dampness inside the house, or the incessant marijuana smoke that hovers in the family room as my roommate punishes a bong all day long. It may also be the incestual poker tournaments that I've been known to frequent a few days a week--essentially, 50 walking incubators coughing on their hands and then molesting a playing deck, which in turn gets manhandled by yours truly. I'm going with a combination "weed-damp-card" excuse for my new octogenarian immune system. I've gone from a vitamin-popping, gym-addicted, young-looking 34 year old to The English Patient in three weeks. No wonder they have Universal Healthcare down here--between the cigarettes, weed, and Bangladeshi-like dampness, half the population would be addicted to various cold-flu medications with homemade meth labs in their basements if they had to pay $250 each time their doctor told them to "rest."
Yes, a lot of marijuana in New Zealand...but very few Mexicans and Colombians. Which means that the proverbial "New Zealand ingenuity" of which most Kiwis are proud, extends about two inches and requires feats of engineering including packing, rolling, and lighting.
Speaking of my inveterate gambling addiction, there is a thriving poker culture in town, one in which I get to see the same 40 people every night, five nights a week, playing no-limit hold'em for 4 hours trying to win a $50 bar tab and pride. I've managed to win two such tournaments and finish second or third at a few others, which basically means that I'm considering a playing career in Vegas in the near future and am only one sponsor away from listing on my resume under 'Hobbies,' "hitting on cocktail waitresses and 9-3 off-suit." Poker is my girlfriend, which is both bad and good. Bad, because I'm now quite intimate with a biological weapon--a deck of cards, and good because the poker tournaments are free and I don't know of any girlfriend that's free.
By the way, if I ever got a tattoo, it wouldn't be Aces up the sleeve, it'd be far more appropriate--9-3 offsuit. One of my roommates just got a tattoo yesterday and it looks rather trite, if you ask me. And bloody. And painful.
At what point do tattoos become passe, you ask? I'm glad you did. I say they've reached that point already. But with the plethora of Maori tribal designs on Maori and Whitey skin alike, I'm sure NZ will continue to pump out inked-up Kiwis as more people strive to assert their individuality by conforming with everyone else.
Did I ever mention that I retired as Russell's ping-pong champion. No, I don't think I did. Okay, so I retired as Russell's ping-pong champion. I was both the unstoppable force and the immovable object. Chinese diplomats showed up to try to get me to acquiesce to citizenship, but I deferred, citing the whole Communist thing. They wanted me to train with their top ping-pong...excuse me, table-tennis Olympians, but I told them my future included walking pneumonia, early-onset emphysema, and a touch of bacterial meningitis down in Queenstown. Seriously though, I was so good up there in Russell that I will now type about it in the third person. CT played several hundred games all told, and lost but twice. CT believes he has a natural athletic gift in his ping-ponging and is proud to be revered in the hall of Russellian history as 2008 Champion. Sadly, CT realizes that once he turned down the Chinese, his ping-pong future became rather limited...where does CT go next? He has yet to find a table in Queenstown and, even if he did, what else does he have to prove? Do you climb K-2 after climbing Everest? I don't think so. The thrill is gone for CT, so he has decided to instead to invest his time and emotional energy into a game with far more probability, luck, and indeterminism. We wish CT nothing but the best.
I was teaching three Korean girls how to speak English. That gig has run its course, however, so I will most likely soon be looking to book a return flight back to the States, so as to catch the end of summer and the beginning of football season. With no plan, I hasten to step into the abyss once more. Plus, it's been nearly 11 months since I left and, being fairly satisfied that I've seen a lot of what New Zealand has to offer, and hence have come closer to understanding why the country is so naturally beloved, I feel like George W. Bush as he stood on that aircraft carrier in May 2003 with a banner overhead proclaiming, "Mission Accomplished." Which means I probably should spend the next 5 years wandering around the wilderness before asking for directions to the airport. In any event, the easy part, in retrospect getting on the plane, is coming to a close. The next chapter becomes, once more, difficult to write..."What's Next?"
Friday, May 30, 2008
Links to places visited
Okay, these pictures have been a long time in coming, but since my camera was stolen, I'm attaching links for some of the places I was able to visit on my drive from Auckland to Queenstown. It's not hard to see why people call New Zealand 'God's Playground.' Personally, I think God got it closer to perfect with this... http://z.about.com/d/shoes/1/0/f/x/Marisa_Miller.jpg
http://cache.gizmodo.com/assets/resources/2007/02/milleripod.jpg
http://pub.tv2.no/multimedia/slideshow/17581/1.jpg
...but there's no Lonely Planet guidebook that gets me on the road to that, so I don't know where to find it. Here's my consolation...
Cathedral Cove (Coromandel Peninsula):
http://www.fritzswart.co.nz/images/Cathedral_Cove.jpg
http://static.flickr.com/36/85838316_242ba8577f.jpg
http://www.whitianga.co.nz/images/photos/g12.jpg
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/d/d2/Cathedral_Cove_(Coromandel).jpg/800px-Cathedral_Cove_(Coromandel).jpg
http://www.nzemigrate.co.nz/Images/cathedral%20cove.jpg
http://www.dayout.co.nz/public-files/pictures/10790.jpg
Mt. Maunganui:
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/2c/Mount_Manganui.jpg/800px-Mount_Manganui.jpg
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/d/d7/Mt_Manganui_view.jpg/800px-Mt_Manganui_view.jpg
http://img3.travelblog.org/Photos/32422/151011/t/1081308-Mt-Manganui-0.jpg
http://www.davidwallphoto.com/images/%7B295FFF30-6D46-4306-A787-CDFDA9A41671%7D.JPG
http://www.teara.govt.nz/NR/rdonlyres/F8AD208A-A690-414C-8543-5F88402F2F13/114697/p799gns.jpg
Lake Taupo:
http://www.geonet.org.nz/images/volcano/our-volcanoes/Lake-Taupo-28761-lge.jpg
http://www.brownbear.co.nz/assets/image/taupo.jpg
http://www.no1guide.co.nz/images/Lake_Taupo.JPG
http://www.ruggieroweb.com/New_Zealand/0204_lake%20taupo.jpg
http://www.amazingnz.com/lake-taupo.jpg
Wellington:
http://www.bioneural.net/images/enlarge/wellington-large.jpg
http://www.vroomvroomvroom.co.nz/content/files/images/photos/Wellington-Car-Rental--2.jpg
http://www1.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/3923408/2/istockphoto_3923408_wellington.jpg
Marlborough (Wine region):
http://www.justourpictures.com/newzealand/nzimgs/marlborough.jpg
http://www.totaltravel.co.nz/guide/photos/marlborough/marlborough_sound.jpg
http://williamjthompson.net/WJT/VineyardsLR.jpg
http://www.kiwicellars.com/images/vineyardmarlborough.jpg
http://www.clayridge.net.nz/images/clayridge-2006.gif
Nelson:
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/08/Nelson_New_Zealand.jpg/800px-Nelson_New_Zealand.jpg
http://www.english-schools.co.nz/Images/nelson.jpg
http://icons-pe.wunderground.com/data/wximagenew/u/ultraviolet/53.jpg
Abel Tasman National Park:
http://www.wayfaring.info/wp-content/uploads/2007/04/kayaking-in-the-abel-tasman-1.jpg
http://static.flickr.com/32/92478386_49471ca025.jpg
http://www.no1guide.co.nz/images/AbelTasmanNationalPark.jpg
http://www.newzealandcampervanhire.co.nz/images/image2_l.jpg
http://www.motuekariverhills.co.nz/rh_images/abeltasman_beach.jpg
http://www.visitingnewzealand.com/images/abel-tasman3.jpg
West Coast Highway (South Island):
http://www.wildweka.com/images/WestcoastMap.jpg
http://images19.fotki.com/v274/photos/5/54163/2725630/IMG_2891-vi.jpg
http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1434/1036898253_243e80ea76.jpg?v=0
Lake Hawea (from West Coast Highway to Queenstown):
http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/newsletter/images2003/2003-04-01_Batley-LakeHawea.jpg
http://www.travelfisher.co.uk/Photos/New%20Zealand%202004/D19%20Lake%20Hawea%204.JPG
http://farm1.static.flickr.com/48/137909394_7b803e0978.jpg?v=0
Franz Josef Glacier:
http://www.nzimpressions.com/site/images/54073.jpg
http://www.davidwallphoto.com/images/%7BCE6317E6-A95F-479F-9DAA-AFF015E9DED1%7D.jpg
http://www.victoria.ac.nz/geo/people/andrew-mackintosh/franzjosef-glacier-march2005-accum.jpg
Lake Matheson:
http://lloydi.com/travel-writing/round-the-world-trip/_wallpaper/_wallpaper-Images/20.jpg
http://www.mypicture.dk/joomla/mambots/content/smoothgallery/cache/images/stories/gallery/nature/800x576-LakeMatheson_NewZealand.jpg
http://planetkiwi.net/lake-matheson-27.jpg
Haast Pass:
http://www.carrentalnewzealand.com/images/newzealandcarhire-haast.jpg
Wanaka:
http://www.alpenglow.org/paragliding/coast/cd-0527-015-diane-royspeak-lg.jpg
http://www.ethantw.com/images/photo_19full.jpg
http://www.cleangreen.co.nz/gallery1/wanaka/wanaka%20new%20zealand.jpg
Milford Sound:
http://danny.oz.au/travel/new-zealand/p/1669-milford-sound.jpg
http://www.globusjourneys.com/Common/Images/Destinations/milford_sound.jpg
http://lloydi.com/travel-writing/round-the-world-trip/_wallpaper/_wallpaper-Images/26.jpg
http://www.richard-seaman.com/Wallpaper/NewZealand/SouthIsland/MilfordSound.jpg
http://cache.virtualtourist.com/1392268-Mitre_Peak_Milford_Sound-New_Zealand.jpg
Homer Tunnel (on way to Milford Sound; built from 1935-53);
http://farm1.static.flickr.com/50/112958216_71b0731b78.jpg?v=0
http://www.guide2downunder.com/new-zealand/pic5.jpg
Chasm Walk (near Milford Sound):
http://i202.photobucket.com/albums/aa178/tonyclarehodge/Milford%20Sound/64b5b079.jpg
http://www.myspot.net/tlang/anz/P6120039.JPG
The road from Te Anau to Milford Sound:
http://www.gipp.com/pics/2004_NewZealand/_title/09-Te_Anau_u_Milford_04-12-28to30/0/title.jpg
http://www.traveljournals.net/pictures/l/1/13837-mirror-lake-te-anau-to-milford-sound-new-zealand.jpg
http://www.photographybyjohncorney.com/landscapes/uploaded_images/Mountain_meadow_milford-766716.jpg
http://farm1.static.flickr.com/37/108619656_d9354bfd79_b.jpg
Queenstown:
http://landau.rice.edu/~aac/isec2001/qtown.jpg
http://img.thisismoney.co.uk/i/pix/2007/02/QUEENSTOWN_400x310.jpg
http://www.golfhighway.com/images/Queenstown-Golf3.jpg
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/bc/Queenstown_New_Zealand_September_07.jpg/800px-Queenstown_New_Zealand_September_07.jpg
http://www.gorentals.co.nz/cust/img/new-zealand/nz-Queenstown/queenstown1.jpg
http://www.poststar.com/sections/ae/10_list/images/5/queenstown.jpg
http://updatecenter.britannica.com/eb/image?binaryId=83816&rendTypeId=4
http://images.travelpod.com/users/kevandsian/rtw_2002.1092264780.img_3098.jpg (The Remarkables mountain range)
http://cache.gizmodo.com/assets/resources/2007/02/milleripod.jpg
http://pub.tv2.no/multimedia/slideshow/17581/1.jpg
...but there's no Lonely Planet guidebook that gets me on the road to that, so I don't know where to find it. Here's my consolation...
Cathedral Cove (Coromandel Peninsula):
http://www.fritzswart.co.nz/images/Cathedral_Cove.jpg
http://static.flickr.com/36/85838316_242ba8577f.jpg
http://www.whitianga.co.nz/images/photos/g12.jpg
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/d/d2/Cathedral_Cove_(Coromandel).jpg/800px-Cathedral_Cove_(Coromandel).jpg
.jpg/800px-Cathedral_Cove_(Coromandel).jpg){kind=link}
http://www.nzemigrate.co.nz/Images/cathedral%20cove.jpg
http://www.dayout.co.nz/public-files/pictures/10790.jpg
Mt. Maunganui:
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/2c/Mount_Manganui.jpg/800px-Mount_Manganui.jpg
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/d/d7/Mt_Manganui_view.jpg/800px-Mt_Manganui_view.jpg
http://img3.travelblog.org/Photos/32422/151011/t/1081308-Mt-Manganui-0.jpg
http://www.davidwallphoto.com/images/%7B295FFF30-6D46-4306-A787-CDFDA9A41671%7D.JPG
http://www.teara.govt.nz/NR/rdonlyres/F8AD208A-A690-414C-8543-5F88402F2F13/114697/p799gns.jpg
Lake Taupo:
http://www.geonet.org.nz/images/volcano/our-volcanoes/Lake-Taupo-28761-lge.jpg
http://www.brownbear.co.nz/assets/image/taupo.jpg
http://www.no1guide.co.nz/images/Lake_Taupo.JPG
http://www.ruggieroweb.com/New_Zealand/0204_lake%20taupo.jpg
http://www.amazingnz.com/lake-taupo.jpg
Wellington:
http://www.bioneural.net/images/enlarge/wellington-large.jpg
http://www.vroomvroomvroom.co.nz/content/files/images/photos/Wellington-Car-Rental--2.jpg
http://www1.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/3923408/2/istockphoto_3923408_wellington.jpg
Marlborough (Wine region):
http://www.justourpictures.com/newzealand/nzimgs/marlborough.jpg
http://www.totaltravel.co.nz/guide/photos/marlborough/marlborough_sound.jpg
http://williamjthompson.net/WJT/VineyardsLR.jpg
http://www.kiwicellars.com/images/vineyardmarlborough.jpg
http://www.clayridge.net.nz/images/clayridge-2006.gif
Nelson:
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/08/Nelson_New_Zealand.jpg/800px-Nelson_New_Zealand.jpg
http://www.english-schools.co.nz/Images/nelson.jpg
http://icons-pe.wunderground.com/data/wximagenew/u/ultraviolet/53.jpg
Abel Tasman National Park:
http://www.wayfaring.info/wp-content/uploads/2007/04/kayaking-in-the-abel-tasman-1.jpg
http://static.flickr.com/32/92478386_49471ca025.jpg
http://www.no1guide.co.nz/images/AbelTasmanNationalPark.jpg
http://www.newzealandcampervanhire.co.nz/images/image2_l.jpg
http://www.motuekariverhills.co.nz/rh_images/abeltasman_beach.jpg
http://www.visitingnewzealand.com/images/abel-tasman3.jpg
West Coast Highway (South Island):
http://www.wildweka.com/images/WestcoastMap.jpg
http://images19.fotki.com/v274/photos/5/54163/2725630/IMG_2891-vi.jpg
http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1434/1036898253_243e80ea76.jpg?v=0
Lake Hawea (from West Coast Highway to Queenstown):
http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/newsletter/images2003/2003-04-01_Batley-LakeHawea.jpg
http://www.travelfisher.co.uk/Photos/New%20Zealand%202004/D19%20Lake%20Hawea%204.JPG
http://farm1.static.flickr.com/48/137909394_7b803e0978.jpg?v=0
Franz Josef Glacier:
http://www.nzimpressions.com/site/images/54073.jpg
http://www.davidwallphoto.com/images/%7BCE6317E6-A95F-479F-9DAA-AFF015E9DED1%7D.jpg
http://www.victoria.ac.nz/geo/people/andrew-mackintosh/franzjosef-glacier-march2005-accum.jpg
Lake Matheson:
http://lloydi.com/travel-writing/round-the-world-trip/_wallpaper/_wallpaper-Images/20.jpg
http://www.mypicture.dk/joomla/mambots/content/smoothgallery/cache/images/stories/gallery/nature/800x576-LakeMatheson_NewZealand.jpg
http://planetkiwi.net/lake-matheson-27.jpg
Haast Pass:
http://www.carrentalnewzealand.com/images/newzealandcarhire-haast.jpg
Wanaka:
http://www.alpenglow.org/paragliding/coast/cd-0527-015-diane-royspeak-lg.jpg
http://www.ethantw.com/images/photo_19full.jpg
http://www.cleangreen.co.nz/gallery1/wanaka/wanaka%20new%20zealand.jpg
Milford Sound:
http://danny.oz.au/travel/new-zealand/p/1669-milford-sound.jpg
http://www.globusjourneys.com/Common/Images/Destinations/milford_sound.jpg
http://lloydi.com/travel-writing/round-the-world-trip/_wallpaper/_wallpaper-Images/26.jpg
http://www.richard-seaman.com/Wallpaper/NewZealand/SouthIsland/MilfordSound.jpg
http://cache.virtualtourist.com/1392268-Mitre_Peak_Milford_Sound-New_Zealand.jpg
Homer Tunnel (on way to Milford Sound; built from 1935-53);
http://farm1.static.flickr.com/50/112958216_71b0731b78.jpg?v=0
http://www.guide2downunder.com/new-zealand/pic5.jpg
Chasm Walk (near Milford Sound):
http://i202.photobucket.com/albums/aa178/tonyclarehodge/Milford%20Sound/64b5b079.jpg
http://www.myspot.net/tlang/anz/P6120039.JPG
The road from Te Anau to Milford Sound:
http://www.gipp.com/pics/2004_NewZealand/_title/09-Te_Anau_u_Milford_04-12-28to30/0/title.jpg
http://www.traveljournals.net/pictures/l/1/13837-mirror-lake-te-anau-to-milford-sound-new-zealand.jpg
http://www.photographybyjohncorney.com/landscapes/uploaded_images/Mountain_meadow_milford-766716.jpg
http://farm1.static.flickr.com/37/108619656_d9354bfd79_b.jpg
Queenstown:
http://landau.rice.edu/~aac/isec2001/qtown.jpg
http://img.thisismoney.co.uk/i/pix/2007/02/QUEENSTOWN_400x310.jpg
http://www.golfhighway.com/images/Queenstown-Golf3.jpg
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/bc/Queenstown_New_Zealand_September_07.jpg/800px-Queenstown_New_Zealand_September_07.jpg
http://www.gorentals.co.nz/cust/img/new-zealand/nz-Queenstown/queenstown1.jpg
http://www.poststar.com/sections/ae/10_list/images/5/queenstown.jpg
http://updatecenter.britannica.com/eb/image?binaryId=83816&rendTypeId=4
http://images.travelpod.com/users/kevandsian/rtw_2002.1092264780.img_3098.jpg (The Remarkables mountain range)
Friday, May 9, 2008
Keeping Left...still
Arriving on the South Island at the small port town of Picton, I was greeted with more rain...not hard to believe given that this past summer in Northland was wetter and cooler than usual--I'm beginning to believe that I have rain clouds following me no matter where I show up in this country. On the other hand, there was a rainbow straddling the town as I drove off the ship, perhaps a good omen for the next five months or so to be spent in the South. Immediately on the two hour drive to the northern coastal city of Nelson (pop. 45,000), the sunniest city in New Zealand and considered one of its most liveable, you're greeted with the evidence of New Zealand's growing reputation as a wine-producing haven. Vineyard after vineyard dot the landscape of the Marlborough region, the heart of the country's esteemed Sauvignon Blancs, Chardonnays, and Pinot Gris'. Marlborough is where a verdant landscape intersects with the moisture of the Cook Strait to produce grapes that are responsible for a rather rapid rise in New Zealand's international wine reputation. Guided tours abound, taking tourists by car or bicycle to some of the region's most well-known vineyards for a closer inspection of the production process with meals to match.
Since I only drink red, I drove right through the region.
Upon arriving in Nelson, I was reminded of Wellington, only on a much smaller scale. With considerably less wind. One thing I have learned since arriving in country more than 7 1/2 months ago is that every New Zealand town looks almost exactly the same. Oh, and expect to be warmer outside than inside.
Needless to say, almost as if God gets a kick out of hearing me complain to myself, Nelson, the reputed sunniest city in the country, greeted me with more rain. It's no wonder New Zealand's landscape is neon green. The town itself, after hearing such good things from friends who had already visited, cast me in a horror movie of sorts--nights in town in the early part of the week are dead. I was one of but a handful of people walking downtown at night and was half expecting to be dragged into an alley by the undead.
On my second and final night in town, my rental car was broken into in the hostel carpark and my digital camera and Ipod in the glove compartment, as well as my bookbag in the trunk, were stolen. Good times. The police came out to document the theft and write up a report. Sadly, the pictures I had taken on my previous week of travel--about 30 in total--are gone with the camera. Fortunately, all of the other photos on the camera had been uploaded to the blog. After arriving in Queenstown, I received an e-mail from someone who had found my mostly empty bookbag halfway up a tree, so I may be able to get the bag back. But Nelson's final salute to me was to make me a victim of crime. For that, I will always hold a special place in my heart for the sun capital of New Zealand. Rock on, Nelson! Remind me to apply for a job in the Nelson Chamber of Commerce.
After my first encounter with the New Zealand police, I subsequently drove down the West Coast Highway to the tourist heavy Franz Josef glacier--midway down the South Island on the, you guessed it, west coast. I don't get a chance to walk on a glacier very often...I've never seen a glacier before, so after spending a night in the small town, I did a half-day hike on the glacier, which was well worth the money. Provided boots, crampons, a rain jacket (the glacier gets 6-8 meters of rain per year), hat and gloves, and overpants, our small group got a guided 3km walk to the glacier wall, up rock outcroppings with ladders, through the rainforest in the valley, and subsequently about 90-120 minutes walking on the glacier itself. Full day hikes take you farther up the glacier, but I felt pretty confident after it was all said and done that I had gotten the point. It's ice. The scenery, to say the least, is stunning. This is where I would show you the pictures, but if you remember my story, my camera was stolen. In Nelson.
From Franz Josef, I drove 25kms down the road to Lake Matheson, the most photographed lake in the country, framed as it is by the Southern Alps with clear reflections of the mountains shimmering in the calm waters of the pristine lake. Again, I'd show you a picture...but...
...then onward to Queenstown, my final destination for the winter. The drive from Haast to Wanaka and then to Queenstown was probably the most scenic of drives that I had seen up to that point in New Zealand. Winding through the snow-capped Southern Alps and the lakes they frame was visually extraordinary.
Queenstown is a skiing town and immediately reminds me of Aspen. It's cold. But quaint. And expensive. It sits on Lake Wakatipu and is literally surrounded by the Southern Alps. I took the gondola up the mountain that sits right behind the town and was so impressed by the sights that I bought a season pass for the gondola.
In the following days, I drove to Wanaka, a smaller version of Queenstown located an hour north. Again the drive over the Crown Mountain pass takes me right back to similar high-altitude roads in Colorado. Wanaka is even more quaint than Queenstown, but at less than half its size, seems too small for my liking. It does, however, sit on a lake itself with perhaps an even more aesthetically pleasing view from town.
While I still had the rental car, I drove 3.5 hrs to Milford Sound, one of the most awe-inspiring parts of New Zealand's geography and featured in any literature you'd read about the country. The drive from Te Anau to Milford is THE best drive I've had thus far in country. Simply unbelievable. Driving on yet another winding, narrow mountain road, sheer rock cliffs above, unrivalled vistas, valley fog, imposing mountains, tropical rainforest...the country seems to offer it all.
Except insulation.
I returned the car to the rental agency after adding more than 3000kms to its odometer (2000 miles) and was promptly told that I was responsible for the cost to repair the damaged driver-side lock that the thief had jimmied in order to get in the car. The customer service rep would get a job in the vestibule of hell, if she wanted it. You know, when she gets down there. Though an inauspicious end to my two week journey from the northern part of the North Island to the southern part of the South Island, I feel tremendous satisfaction in having seen alot of what makes the country such an attractive destination for visitors from around the world. The country owes a debt of gratitude to Peter Jackson.
Next time...live from Queenstown, the adrenaline capital of the world...where you can jump out of, from, into, and through, and by all accounts secrete enough adrenaline in a given day to choke an African elephant.
Since I only drink red, I drove right through the region.
Upon arriving in Nelson, I was reminded of Wellington, only on a much smaller scale. With considerably less wind. One thing I have learned since arriving in country more than 7 1/2 months ago is that every New Zealand town looks almost exactly the same. Oh, and expect to be warmer outside than inside.
Needless to say, almost as if God gets a kick out of hearing me complain to myself, Nelson, the reputed sunniest city in the country, greeted me with more rain. It's no wonder New Zealand's landscape is neon green. The town itself, after hearing such good things from friends who had already visited, cast me in a horror movie of sorts--nights in town in the early part of the week are dead. I was one of but a handful of people walking downtown at night and was half expecting to be dragged into an alley by the undead.
On my second and final night in town, my rental car was broken into in the hostel carpark and my digital camera and Ipod in the glove compartment, as well as my bookbag in the trunk, were stolen. Good times. The police came out to document the theft and write up a report. Sadly, the pictures I had taken on my previous week of travel--about 30 in total--are gone with the camera. Fortunately, all of the other photos on the camera had been uploaded to the blog. After arriving in Queenstown, I received an e-mail from someone who had found my mostly empty bookbag halfway up a tree, so I may be able to get the bag back. But Nelson's final salute to me was to make me a victim of crime. For that, I will always hold a special place in my heart for the sun capital of New Zealand. Rock on, Nelson! Remind me to apply for a job in the Nelson Chamber of Commerce.
After my first encounter with the New Zealand police, I subsequently drove down the West Coast Highway to the tourist heavy Franz Josef glacier--midway down the South Island on the, you guessed it, west coast. I don't get a chance to walk on a glacier very often...I've never seen a glacier before, so after spending a night in the small town, I did a half-day hike on the glacier, which was well worth the money. Provided boots, crampons, a rain jacket (the glacier gets 6-8 meters of rain per year), hat and gloves, and overpants, our small group got a guided 3km walk to the glacier wall, up rock outcroppings with ladders, through the rainforest in the valley, and subsequently about 90-120 minutes walking on the glacier itself. Full day hikes take you farther up the glacier, but I felt pretty confident after it was all said and done that I had gotten the point. It's ice. The scenery, to say the least, is stunning. This is where I would show you the pictures, but if you remember my story, my camera was stolen. In Nelson.
From Franz Josef, I drove 25kms down the road to Lake Matheson, the most photographed lake in the country, framed as it is by the Southern Alps with clear reflections of the mountains shimmering in the calm waters of the pristine lake. Again, I'd show you a picture...but...
...then onward to Queenstown, my final destination for the winter. The drive from Haast to Wanaka and then to Queenstown was probably the most scenic of drives that I had seen up to that point in New Zealand. Winding through the snow-capped Southern Alps and the lakes they frame was visually extraordinary.
Queenstown is a skiing town and immediately reminds me of Aspen. It's cold. But quaint. And expensive. It sits on Lake Wakatipu and is literally surrounded by the Southern Alps. I took the gondola up the mountain that sits right behind the town and was so impressed by the sights that I bought a season pass for the gondola.
In the following days, I drove to Wanaka, a smaller version of Queenstown located an hour north. Again the drive over the Crown Mountain pass takes me right back to similar high-altitude roads in Colorado. Wanaka is even more quaint than Queenstown, but at less than half its size, seems too small for my liking. It does, however, sit on a lake itself with perhaps an even more aesthetically pleasing view from town.
While I still had the rental car, I drove 3.5 hrs to Milford Sound, one of the most awe-inspiring parts of New Zealand's geography and featured in any literature you'd read about the country. The drive from Te Anau to Milford is THE best drive I've had thus far in country. Simply unbelievable. Driving on yet another winding, narrow mountain road, sheer rock cliffs above, unrivalled vistas, valley fog, imposing mountains, tropical rainforest...the country seems to offer it all.
Except insulation.
I returned the car to the rental agency after adding more than 3000kms to its odometer (2000 miles) and was promptly told that I was responsible for the cost to repair the damaged driver-side lock that the thief had jimmied in order to get in the car. The customer service rep would get a job in the vestibule of hell, if she wanted it. You know, when she gets down there. Though an inauspicious end to my two week journey from the northern part of the North Island to the southern part of the South Island, I feel tremendous satisfaction in having seen alot of what makes the country such an attractive destination for visitors from around the world. The country owes a debt of gratitude to Peter Jackson.
Next time...live from Queenstown, the adrenaline capital of the world...where you can jump out of, from, into, and through, and by all accounts secrete enough adrenaline in a given day to choke an African elephant.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Keep Left
That's what the sticker said on the dashboard of my rental car.
Keep Left.
With an arrow pointing in that direction.
Sage advice for those of us conditioned to "Keep Right" on the roads, I suppose, and the first thing I noticed when I hopped in the car in Auckland for what turned out to be the 8 day drive down to Queenstown, near the bottom of the South Island. But before we get to that, there is the matter of leaving Russell after six months of working and playing in the little town that closes at Midnight.
My last shift at the restaurant in Russell was Saturday, April 19th, by which time the chef was already on vacation in his head and I was the last of the original foreign hospitality crew to still be standing. In a word: depressing. Bernard, the chef, had had a change of mood over the course of the last month before shutting the doors to the restaurant for 10 days, beginning the 20th. Disappointed by the numbers for the summer, I think he was contemplating giving Russell one more summer to try to make money with the restaurant and, barring an unexpected climb in visitors to town, perhaps leaving New Zealand altogether for more profitable shores elsewhere. So the mood in the restaurant was demonstrably dour over the last couple of weeks as Bernard hit the wall and friends began one-by-one and two-by-two to leave to begin their travels around New Zealand or to return to their home country. The final week was fairly sad: just me and the Swedish cook, Hampus, remaining to serve out our sentences as the rest of our friends began another chapter. We felt left behind.
Nevertheless, on the 23rd of April, the Wednesday after the closing of the restaurant, I said my goodbyes to Mark, my roommate with whom I had a fantastic summer experience drinking and philosophizing and just plain goofing around, and got on a bus headed south to Auckland, four hours away. Once there, I met up with Laura, an English friend of mine who had also worked in the restaurant with me (pictures in previous posts) and Hampus, who was waiting a week for a flight back home to Sweden. For two days we grasped to the last vestiges of our Russell friendship. But it almost felt like we were shellshocked. I had spent six months on what is essentially an island (it's really a peninsula), cloistered and subsumed by the culture of small-town life. I left Russell maybe three of four times, each for a day or half-day trip, so the vast majority of my time was spent in a radius of no more than a kilometer. With the three of us in Auckland, it almost felt like we were privy to an experience no one around us could relate to--if you watched the Lord of the Rings, I imagine it's something akin to what the four hobbits felt upon their return home as their friends in the pub around them were oblivious to the adventure they had just undertaken. They shared a secret and drank a last beer together, smiling quietly at one another, each acknowledging with a look that no one would believe them anyway if they tried to describe the experience. In short, we were in Auckland, but we really weren't in Auckland. And so, two days later, I rented a car, said a goodbye to Hampus, and dropped Laura off at the airport for her return flight to the States.
And then I started to drive.
Keep Left...it takes some getting used to, especially when you make a right turn and have to look right first. You're just not conditioned to having to do that, but despite a couple of close calls, you force yourself to follow the advice of your parents and look both ways before you cross the street. I had no plan on where to go, really, just the Bible...er, my Lonely Planet, and gas in the car.
I've never had more fun driving than I did while I was in New Zealand. I had the car for two weeks and just as I had been told and had read about prior to arriving, the country simply does not disappoint. Much of the South Island reminds me of Colorado, with the Southern Alps substituting for the Rockies. Though the Rockies are decidedly taller, New Zealand compensates by throwing in some of the most stunning coastline you can imagine. The combination of the two, and the fact that the country is so rural, its remote two-lane roads dissecting one mountain range after another, makes my advice to potential visitors really very simple: rent a car and drive the country.
After Auckland, I headed east to the Coromandel Peninsula, a region known for its spectacular coastal views. Winding my way through and around one mountain after another, ascending, descending, and hanging perilously close to the edge of a steep cliff with a sheer rock wall on one side and tropical rainforest on the other, I made it to my first hostel near Cathedral Cove, a beautiful rock formation at the water's edge that draws tourists in for photographs by the thousands. Naturally, I took pictures after arriving after a scenic 30 minute walk from the carpark. After some time there, I headed 10 minutes down the road to Hot Water Beach, a tourist draw for the warm water pits you can sit in at low tide. Because I arrived at high tide, I snapped a few obligatory pictures, got back in my car, pulled out the Lonely Planet, and headed south for the Tauranga (pop. 100,000)/Mt. Manganui (man-ga-noo-e) area.
After a couple hours of driving the infamous winding New Zealand roads (there are no straight-ahead highways in this country, I don't think), I made it to Mt. Manganui, a nearly 300 meter mountain that oddly rises up out of nowhere and sits perched on the water's edge, all alone, with an almost 1,000 foot sheer drop on its back side. I climbed the mountain, having been passed by a few joggers doing the same and after making a few smart-ass comments about being "shown up" by the cardiovascularly bionic. Despite having two strokes and needing defibrillation on the way up, I emerged on to the mountain's crown to, of course, unbelievable views of the Pacific, Tauranga, and miles of coastline. Looking straight down, nearly 1,000 feet, to the water below almost induces a case of vertigo. I don't really know what vertigo is...but it sounds bad and I think I had it. Suffice it to say, the juice was worth the squeeze. A great workout with the added benefit of an even better view.
I managed to make it an hour or so south to Rotorua thereafter, the adrenaline-fueled city that smells like sulfur from all of the volcanic activity simmering beneath the surface. I spent a couple of nights there, riding the gondola up the nearby mountain for views over Lake Rotorua, and luging--getting in a sit-down luge for a run down the hill on a concrete track. I met a friend from Russell, who happened to be in town, for a couple of drinks, found a gym for workout, and then visited Te Puia, a Maori cultural site that offers guided tours of the on-site geysers, boiling mud pools, a sighting of the rare kiwi bird, as well as a look at a Maori traditional wood-carving and weaving school (both on-site and fully operational, as well). Finally, entrance gave us the privilege of enjoying a 45-minute traditional Maori concert, which included, of course, the famous haka dance, guitar playing, and singing. Having had hit my quota for all things culturally sensitive, I drove straight south, through the Lake Taupo area (the biggest skydiving site in the world) and found myself in Wellington again, nearly 7 months to the day that I was first in the capital city.
I didn't need to see Wellington again. Been there, bought the t-shirt, nearly been blown away by the wind. I spent one night there, then early the next morning caught the Interislander car ferry across the Cook Strait for the three hour ride to the South Island. Emerging to a rainbow straddling the small port town of Picton, I had arrived into unchartered territory, excited by the near unanimous rave reviews of the South that I had heard over the months from tourists who had already visited.
What does one do in such a situation? Why, pick up Lonely Planet from the front seat and find out.
Part 2 coming...
Keep Left.
With an arrow pointing in that direction.
Sage advice for those of us conditioned to "Keep Right" on the roads, I suppose, and the first thing I noticed when I hopped in the car in Auckland for what turned out to be the 8 day drive down to Queenstown, near the bottom of the South Island. But before we get to that, there is the matter of leaving Russell after six months of working and playing in the little town that closes at Midnight.
My last shift at the restaurant in Russell was Saturday, April 19th, by which time the chef was already on vacation in his head and I was the last of the original foreign hospitality crew to still be standing. In a word: depressing. Bernard, the chef, had had a change of mood over the course of the last month before shutting the doors to the restaurant for 10 days, beginning the 20th. Disappointed by the numbers for the summer, I think he was contemplating giving Russell one more summer to try to make money with the restaurant and, barring an unexpected climb in visitors to town, perhaps leaving New Zealand altogether for more profitable shores elsewhere. So the mood in the restaurant was demonstrably dour over the last couple of weeks as Bernard hit the wall and friends began one-by-one and two-by-two to leave to begin their travels around New Zealand or to return to their home country. The final week was fairly sad: just me and the Swedish cook, Hampus, remaining to serve out our sentences as the rest of our friends began another chapter. We felt left behind.
Nevertheless, on the 23rd of April, the Wednesday after the closing of the restaurant, I said my goodbyes to Mark, my roommate with whom I had a fantastic summer experience drinking and philosophizing and just plain goofing around, and got on a bus headed south to Auckland, four hours away. Once there, I met up with Laura, an English friend of mine who had also worked in the restaurant with me (pictures in previous posts) and Hampus, who was waiting a week for a flight back home to Sweden. For two days we grasped to the last vestiges of our Russell friendship. But it almost felt like we were shellshocked. I had spent six months on what is essentially an island (it's really a peninsula), cloistered and subsumed by the culture of small-town life. I left Russell maybe three of four times, each for a day or half-day trip, so the vast majority of my time was spent in a radius of no more than a kilometer. With the three of us in Auckland, it almost felt like we were privy to an experience no one around us could relate to--if you watched the Lord of the Rings, I imagine it's something akin to what the four hobbits felt upon their return home as their friends in the pub around them were oblivious to the adventure they had just undertaken. They shared a secret and drank a last beer together, smiling quietly at one another, each acknowledging with a look that no one would believe them anyway if they tried to describe the experience. In short, we were in Auckland, but we really weren't in Auckland. And so, two days later, I rented a car, said a goodbye to Hampus, and dropped Laura off at the airport for her return flight to the States.
And then I started to drive.
Keep Left...it takes some getting used to, especially when you make a right turn and have to look right first. You're just not conditioned to having to do that, but despite a couple of close calls, you force yourself to follow the advice of your parents and look both ways before you cross the street. I had no plan on where to go, really, just the Bible...er, my Lonely Planet, and gas in the car.
I've never had more fun driving than I did while I was in New Zealand. I had the car for two weeks and just as I had been told and had read about prior to arriving, the country simply does not disappoint. Much of the South Island reminds me of Colorado, with the Southern Alps substituting for the Rockies. Though the Rockies are decidedly taller, New Zealand compensates by throwing in some of the most stunning coastline you can imagine. The combination of the two, and the fact that the country is so rural, its remote two-lane roads dissecting one mountain range after another, makes my advice to potential visitors really very simple: rent a car and drive the country.
After Auckland, I headed east to the Coromandel Peninsula, a region known for its spectacular coastal views. Winding my way through and around one mountain after another, ascending, descending, and hanging perilously close to the edge of a steep cliff with a sheer rock wall on one side and tropical rainforest on the other, I made it to my first hostel near Cathedral Cove, a beautiful rock formation at the water's edge that draws tourists in for photographs by the thousands. Naturally, I took pictures after arriving after a scenic 30 minute walk from the carpark. After some time there, I headed 10 minutes down the road to Hot Water Beach, a tourist draw for the warm water pits you can sit in at low tide. Because I arrived at high tide, I snapped a few obligatory pictures, got back in my car, pulled out the Lonely Planet, and headed south for the Tauranga (pop. 100,000)/Mt. Manganui (man-ga-noo-e) area.
After a couple hours of driving the infamous winding New Zealand roads (there are no straight-ahead highways in this country, I don't think), I made it to Mt. Manganui, a nearly 300 meter mountain that oddly rises up out of nowhere and sits perched on the water's edge, all alone, with an almost 1,000 foot sheer drop on its back side. I climbed the mountain, having been passed by a few joggers doing the same and after making a few smart-ass comments about being "shown up" by the cardiovascularly bionic. Despite having two strokes and needing defibrillation on the way up, I emerged on to the mountain's crown to, of course, unbelievable views of the Pacific, Tauranga, and miles of coastline. Looking straight down, nearly 1,000 feet, to the water below almost induces a case of vertigo. I don't really know what vertigo is...but it sounds bad and I think I had it. Suffice it to say, the juice was worth the squeeze. A great workout with the added benefit of an even better view.
I managed to make it an hour or so south to Rotorua thereafter, the adrenaline-fueled city that smells like sulfur from all of the volcanic activity simmering beneath the surface. I spent a couple of nights there, riding the gondola up the nearby mountain for views over Lake Rotorua, and luging--getting in a sit-down luge for a run down the hill on a concrete track. I met a friend from Russell, who happened to be in town, for a couple of drinks, found a gym for workout, and then visited Te Puia, a Maori cultural site that offers guided tours of the on-site geysers, boiling mud pools, a sighting of the rare kiwi bird, as well as a look at a Maori traditional wood-carving and weaving school (both on-site and fully operational, as well). Finally, entrance gave us the privilege of enjoying a 45-minute traditional Maori concert, which included, of course, the famous haka dance, guitar playing, and singing. Having had hit my quota for all things culturally sensitive, I drove straight south, through the Lake Taupo area (the biggest skydiving site in the world) and found myself in Wellington again, nearly 7 months to the day that I was first in the capital city.
I didn't need to see Wellington again. Been there, bought the t-shirt, nearly been blown away by the wind. I spent one night there, then early the next morning caught the Interislander car ferry across the Cook Strait for the three hour ride to the South Island. Emerging to a rainbow straddling the small port town of Picton, I had arrived into unchartered territory, excited by the near unanimous rave reviews of the South that I had heard over the months from tourists who had already visited.
What does one do in such a situation? Why, pick up Lonely Planet from the front seat and find out.
Part 2 coming...
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Cape Reinga and 90 Mile Beach
Two weeks left in Russell before heading south to Queenstown and the pace of the town slows as the weather transitions to autumn. Most of the expat/foreign hospitality help will be gone within a week. Almost all are dying to leave--Russell now stands on the precipice of the off-season, and it's a place one has to permanently make home to make the winter worthwhile.
I've had some more time off as a result of the dearth of activity (we're hardly needed in the restaurant these days), and a colleague of mine and I took a day trip up to Cape Reinga, the lighthouse that stands guard on the very northern edge of the country. One word captures the scenery: awesome.
In its most literal sense, the Cape is indeed awe-inspiring. Lonely Planet mentions that it has a real "end-of-the-world" feel to it, which it most certainly does--the last 20kms of the trip traverse an unpaved road, which serves to enhance the feeling of remoteness you get when you stand on a bluff a couple of hundred meters above the meeting of the Tasman Sea and the Pacific Ocean. As the two oceans crash together, there is no wonder why Maori mythology designates the spot as the site where its dead depart the earth.
At the northern edge of the country, on the west coast, the tourist heavy 90 Mile Beach introduces you to the Tasman Sea. The beach is actually 90 kilometers long and driveable with the right car. It's odd to be walking on the beach while looking both ways for traffic--tourist buses motor down the long stretch of sand as if it's a paved highway. The beach itself is unusual in the sense that it's quite flat as you approach the water, giving you the feeling that you are looking up at the incoming surf at water's edge. As a result, the beach itself is quite wide, probably on the order of about 150 yards from surf to turf.
On to the pictures...
Safia, my colleague at the restaurant, was my travelling buddy for the trip. We borrowed my roomie's car. Safia is French-Algerian and very funny. Here we're standing on 90 Mile Beach.
The right cars can drive on the hard sands of the beach, but my roomie's car is barely right for asphalt, much less wet sand. Here, a tourist bus races down the beach at low tide.
Looking up at the incoming surf of the Tasman Sea.
My first contact with the Tasman. The beach is so flat that the waves actually chase you for about 50 yards before retreating back to the ocean.
That's me running toward the ocean. I'm thinking Chariots of Fire II might be in the cards.
My best side.
The lighthouse at Cape Reinga.
Overlooking the Pacific Ocean atop the Cape. I enjoyed capturing the rain falling in the distance.
Directional markers at the lighthouse provide tourists with an idea about how far it is to various world cities. It's far.
The lighthouse.
The South Pacific.
The whitewater in the background is the exact spot where the Pacific Ocean and the Tasman Sea meet. You can see waves from both oceans crashing into one another
Talk about a feeling of insignificance.
They're still meeting.
Still.
Looking west over the geography of the cape and the Tasman Sea. Well, I'm not. I'm looking east. Working on acquiring a touch of melanoma.
A must-photograph moment on the way up north.
The roomie's car. Circa '87. Last cleaned: circa '88.
Coopers Beach-about an hour north of Russell on the road to the cape.
You see so much of this exact view here in the North Island. It doesn't seem to get old, however.
I've had some more time off as a result of the dearth of activity (we're hardly needed in the restaurant these days), and a colleague of mine and I took a day trip up to Cape Reinga, the lighthouse that stands guard on the very northern edge of the country. One word captures the scenery: awesome.
In its most literal sense, the Cape is indeed awe-inspiring. Lonely Planet mentions that it has a real "end-of-the-world" feel to it, which it most certainly does--the last 20kms of the trip traverse an unpaved road, which serves to enhance the feeling of remoteness you get when you stand on a bluff a couple of hundred meters above the meeting of the Tasman Sea and the Pacific Ocean. As the two oceans crash together, there is no wonder why Maori mythology designates the spot as the site where its dead depart the earth.
At the northern edge of the country, on the west coast, the tourist heavy 90 Mile Beach introduces you to the Tasman Sea. The beach is actually 90 kilometers long and driveable with the right car. It's odd to be walking on the beach while looking both ways for traffic--tourist buses motor down the long stretch of sand as if it's a paved highway. The beach itself is unusual in the sense that it's quite flat as you approach the water, giving you the feeling that you are looking up at the incoming surf at water's edge. As a result, the beach itself is quite wide, probably on the order of about 150 yards from surf to turf.
On to the pictures...
Safia, my colleague at the restaurant, was my travelling buddy for the trip. We borrowed my roomie's car. Safia is French-Algerian and very funny. Here we're standing on 90 Mile Beach.
The right cars can drive on the hard sands of the beach, but my roomie's car is barely right for asphalt, much less wet sand. Here, a tourist bus races down the beach at low tide.
Looking up at the incoming surf of the Tasman Sea.
My first contact with the Tasman. The beach is so flat that the waves actually chase you for about 50 yards before retreating back to the ocean.
That's me running toward the ocean. I'm thinking Chariots of Fire II might be in the cards.
My best side.
The lighthouse at Cape Reinga.
Overlooking the Pacific Ocean atop the Cape. I enjoyed capturing the rain falling in the distance.
Directional markers at the lighthouse provide tourists with an idea about how far it is to various world cities. It's far.
The lighthouse.
The South Pacific.
The whitewater in the background is the exact spot where the Pacific Ocean and the Tasman Sea meet. You can see waves from both oceans crashing into one another
Talk about a feeling of insignificance.
They're still meeting.
Still.
Looking west over the geography of the cape and the Tasman Sea. Well, I'm not. I'm looking east. Working on acquiring a touch of melanoma.
A must-photograph moment on the way up north.
The roomie's car. Circa '87. Last cleaned: circa '88. 
Coopers Beach-about an hour north of Russell on the road to the cape.
You see so much of this exact view here in the North Island. It doesn't seem to get old, however.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Random pics - 2 of 2
This will conclude the meaningless and repetitive part of the blog, as I throw on some pictures that I found in the corner of the room. Be prepared to be mesmerized and amazed.
Poker night at the girls' house. "Poker night" is a euphemism for "give your money to CT night." That's Lindsay and Mike to the left of me...an American couple helping out at the restaurant...while Florencia, my Argentinian love who just doesn't know it yet, looks on. Hampus is enmeshed in porn. Or music. Whatever.
John and Ian, one from Boston, the other from Nantucket. Both work at Kamakura and neither are usually as happy as they appear in this picture. I'm kidding. I'm just bitter because they made fun of my Falcons shirt. Kick a man when he's down, that's nice. At least I didn't choke away my chance at history, boys.
Flor from Argentina, Laura from England, and Emily from Wilmington, North Carolina. English culture...not bad. It's a good culture, with lots of assets besides just tea and an unhealthy fascination with Princess Di. Let's move on.
Oh yeah, Omari, Laura and yours truly, kickin' it at the pub...my smile says, "you know I'm too cool for school." Or, "should be on my final beer."
My man...
Hampus, my adopted little brother from Sweden, and Laura, my adopted distraction from life, on the Russell wharf for a post-pub (midnight) drinking party. She has moved on now to greener pastures, but she's good people, so we'll let her meet the parents when she stays in Atlanta in June with a cousin of hers. I won't be there, but Snuffy, my dog, will act as my envoy. Laura was good for me - she saw the good in me over the last couple of months...good that I too often over the course of the last few years didn't, or couldn't, see in myself. I hope we meet again one day.
Notice I'm under the "Get Rid of Rats" poster. I hope that's not symbolic.
Hampus tried to set the timer on the camera and this is what happened. I am of this world. Brooke, too. Laura and Hampus are not. Maybe they were just a dream. Or maybe I shouldn't add these comments after a night at the pub.
34 according to the birth certificate, but still 14 on the inside.
Brooke atop Flagstaff Hill on her final day in town.
It's easy to get lost in views like that...and think about how far away the Beltway in D.C. and I-285 in Atlanta really are. Enjoy the traffic.
On Brooke's final night in town, Bernard gave her a free dinner at the restaurant. We were so happy with the meal, and the preceding bottles of wine, that we just had to go into the kitchen to document our joy. Ironic in a way because every time someone lauds thier meal at the restaurant, I relay the appreciation to Bernard, and then follow up with something like, "but I'm pretty sure they were drunk." He loves it.
Poker night at the girls' house. "Poker night" is a euphemism for "give your money to CT night." That's Lindsay and Mike to the left of me...an American couple helping out at the restaurant...while Florencia, my Argentinian love who just doesn't know it yet, looks on. Hampus is enmeshed in porn. Or music. Whatever.
John and Ian, one from Boston, the other from Nantucket. Both work at Kamakura and neither are usually as happy as they appear in this picture. I'm kidding. I'm just bitter because they made fun of my Falcons shirt. Kick a man when he's down, that's nice. At least I didn't choke away my chance at history, boys.
Flor from Argentina, Laura from England, and Emily from Wilmington, North Carolina. English culture...not bad. It's a good culture, with lots of assets besides just tea and an unhealthy fascination with Princess Di. Let's move on.
Oh yeah, Omari, Laura and yours truly, kickin' it at the pub...my smile says, "you know I'm too cool for school." Or, "should be on my final beer."
My man...
Hampus, my adopted little brother from Sweden, and Laura, my adopted distraction from life, on the Russell wharf for a post-pub (midnight) drinking party. She has moved on now to greener pastures, but she's good people, so we'll let her meet the parents when she stays in Atlanta in June with a cousin of hers. I won't be there, but Snuffy, my dog, will act as my envoy. Laura was good for me - she saw the good in me over the last couple of months...good that I too often over the course of the last few years didn't, or couldn't, see in myself. I hope we meet again one day.
Notice I'm under the "Get Rid of Rats" poster. I hope that's not symbolic. 
Hampus tried to set the timer on the camera and this is what happened. I am of this world. Brooke, too. Laura and Hampus are not. Maybe they were just a dream. Or maybe I shouldn't add these comments after a night at the pub.
34 according to the birth certificate, but still 14 on the inside.
Brooke atop Flagstaff Hill on her final day in town.
It's easy to get lost in views like that...and think about how far away the Beltway in D.C. and I-285 in Atlanta really are. Enjoy the traffic.
On Brooke's final night in town, Bernard gave her a free dinner at the restaurant. We were so happy with the meal, and the preceding bottles of wine, that we just had to go into the kitchen to document our joy. Ironic in a way because every time someone lauds thier meal at the restaurant, I relay the appreciation to Bernard, and then follow up with something like, "but I'm pretty sure they were drunk." He loves it. Well, this time, the patrons were in fact drunk.
Sunset from the restaurant.
Local scenery and stuff. Blah blah....
Yeah, more local scenery...the Chamber of Commerce should hire me.
Russell wharf.
The awesome flowery bush right next to the restaurant. I'm pretty certain that botanists call it the "awesome flowery bush" in their books.
Sunset from the restaurant.
Local scenery and stuff. Blah blah....
Yeah, more local scenery...the Chamber of Commerce should hire me.
Russell wharf.
The awesome flowery bush right next to the restaurant. I'm pretty certain that botanists call it the "awesome flowery bush" in their books. Botany. What an underrated word. Incorporate it into a joke and it's always good for a laugh. That and "colonoscopy."
The Strand. That second building is my home away from home.
Liked the picture of the parachute in this one. I have the biggest wedgie in the universe in this shot. I may have lost the ability to have children after that harness had done its damage on my nether regions.
This was taken from the boat. My question: where in the hell is the cord going?
Good shot of the parasail boat driver thinking about lunch as I dangle precipitously from 1,200 feet.
"Raise your hand if you've had a few before this launch and can't remember which cord attaches where."
My groin hurts. Does the boat give coupons for the local urologist?
I don't know if I'm coming or going...but in Russell, it rarely ever matters.
The Strand. That second building is my home away from home.
Liked the picture of the parachute in this one. I have the biggest wedgie in the universe in this shot. I may have lost the ability to have children after that harness had done its damage on my nether regions.
This was taken from the boat. My question: where in the hell is the cord going?
Good shot of the parasail boat driver thinking about lunch as I dangle precipitously from 1,200 feet.
"Raise your hand if you've had a few before this launch and can't remember which cord attaches where."
My groin hurts. Does the boat give coupons for the local urologist?
I don't know if I'm coming or going...but in Russell, it rarely ever matters.
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