Still Missing New Zealand

The other night I had a dream that I took a trip back to New Zealand. I don't remember why I was there, but I do remember it was a very short trip (like 3-4 days actually in the country). The main thing I remember from the dream, however, was the pure happiness I felt when I was in New Zealand. I stepped off the plane and was immediately happy. Most of the dream consisted me walking around the streets of Auckland pointing out all the things I love about the country. Granted, one of the things I pointed out as loving so much was a giant slide that commuters could use to make their travel time more entertaining, so the dream wasn't exactly true to life. But the feeling of being so happy definitely was.

Although it's no giant slide in downtown Auckland, here is one of many reasons why I continue to love Kiwis. (Extra props for the Phil Keoghan guest appearance!)

And here is another. They know how to be serious sometimes down there too.

Someone remind me again why I am still living in the US?

2-3 of my Favourites

If I were to make a list of things that I love, included on that list would be New Zealand, Google, and--depending on the day--kids. So what happens when three of my favourite things come together?

This.

So cute my heart almost stopped.

Top 10

Helen would've been funnier, but I'll take what I can get.

If It Walks Like a Kumara...

About a year and a half ago, you may remember I found a magical surprise at one of the local markets: golden kiwifruit. For that treat I had to make an exception in my attempt to at locivore-ism. Also in that post, I made a list of other food products that I would gladly give up some food miles to taste once again. Amazingly, I've actually been able to find some of those food items. I found Tim Tams at Cost Plus and then Target carried them for awhile (although only in limited flavors not including my beloved dark chocolate or latte). I also discovered that they sell Spy Valley sauvingnon blanc just down the street at BevMo and that a restaurant in SF run by "Two Aussies & a Kiwi" has Monteith's available now and then. For some more challenging items, I received a lovely holiday care package from the cousins containing Vegemite (um, thanks?) and some delicious feijoa lollies (actually thanks!).

Most of the foods on my list are processed, so they're not that difficult to get if I really put my mind to it. However, there is one elusive vegetable that I figured I'd just have to wait on until I can make it back South. Then by some miracle I noticed something out of the ordinary at the Asian grocery store where we get our produce. There it was, kind of reddish skin with the lumpy shape.



And a sign that said "Japanese sweet yam." Obviously I have no idea what a Japanese sweet yam is, but of course I bought one. Upon cutting and roasting, I don't think I can 100% say for sure that it's a kumara, but it definitely tasted delicious and kumara-like. The only answer is to continue buying them and using my Edmond's cookbook to make sure I'm eating real Kiwi fare.

One Year On

Exactly two years ago, I stepped on a plane in Sydney, crossed the ditch, and disembarked to make a new life in what quickly came to be my favourite country in the entire universe (sorry, USA). Then, exactly a year ago, my visa told me that if I ever wanted to come back to New Zealand, I'd have to leave. So now it's been a year since I ended my traveling adventure and came back "home."

Oh Kiwistan, how I miss you. I constantly dream about your breathtaking scenery, your unbelievably kind residents, and your generally awesome national self-image. When I'm not checking airfare prices, I'm counting down the days until the end of my five year comittment to teaching in the US. I listen to the podcast of Prime News everyday, and try to read the the New Zealand Herald when possible. I'm trying my best to maintain my connection, but life seems to get in the way.

This is not to say that I'm unhappy with where I am now or that the past year has been inferior to the previous one. This year in STEP has been just as--if not more--life-changing than any other. I've made amazing friends, learned more than I could ever imagine, and I don't plan on leaving any time soon. I love it here. So what do I do about the fact that two places I love so much are so far away, both geographically and emotionally? Do I really have to choose between the Bay Area and the Bay of Plenty?

Rememberance (of sorts)

Kiwi food is interesting. Some is good, and some is very British (take that as you will). Nonetheless, I miss it dearly (BTW, if someone can find me lolly cake in the US, I will pay you a not insignificant sum of money). I knew that this would happen, so I left New Zealand armed with the Edmond's cookbook, the quintessential Kiwi cookbook.

Unfortunately I've done a pretty bad job of doing much cooking at all this year, let alone cooking from Edmond's. But I couldn't pass up April 25th without digging it off my bookshelf and whipping up some ANZAC biscuits. So delicious.

My makeshift Godzone kitchen. Unfortunately I had to settle for "all-purpose" instead of "standard" flour, and "shredded" coconut instead of "dessicated." But note the electric kettle and coffee plunger in the background--I feel so Kiwi.


Into the oven


The finished product, of course with the Edmond's cookbook.


Oh, and I also paid homage to those lost at Gallipoli and in the nearly 100 years since. Much love to the ANZACs. And to the biscuits baked in their name.

The Next Best Thing

As we got into the Big Sur area on Highway 1, the coastal drive slowly transformed from beautiful to fantastic to stunning. "Is this what New Zealand looks like?" Sarah asked.

Good question. More than anything it reminded me of the drive along the Great Ocean Road in Victoria, Australia, which was pretty amazing. I tried to think of comparable experiences in New Zealand, and first came up with the cliffs and water color around Takapuna and Long Bay--it wasn't too much of a jump to imagine Big Sur with bright red pohutukawas dotting the hills. I also made some mental connections to Cape Reinga, Abel Tasman National Park, and the Coromandel Penninsula. But really, no matter what I tried, Big Sur just doesn't quite compare to any of them.

But it tries. And it comes so close.

There are beautiful coastlines:




Cool plants and beautiful flowers everywhere:




Even some koru:




I guess until I can get the courage (and my loans paid off) to move back to New Zealand, weekends in Big Sur will have to do. Luckily, it seemed to know how much I miss Godzone and sent me a little message that the California coast will be a sufficient surrogate: On our last night, we stopped for sunset drinks at Nepenthe, a restaurant that overlooks the ocean. There, on the wine list, was my favorite NZ wine, Spy Valleny sauvignon blanc. It's one of the few things that I will happily use the food miles for, but I haven't been able to find it in the US. But there it was, and it couldn't have come at a better time.


Thank you, Big Sur. Nothing will ever be New Zealand, but this certainly makes a pretty good second best.

cos(AllBlacks)

Today in my Curriculum & Instruction class, the presenter brought in examples of student work from successful activities she's seen in classrooms. One task asked students to create real-world context problems where they would use trigonometry.

Most were pretty predictable "how tall/long is this building/shadow/distance from corner to corner" story problems, but I this one blew my mind.


I love that there is a student who, although living in East Palo Alto, California, still retains such loyalty to the All Blacks as to dream up a math problem about Tana Umanga and Jonah Lomu. The teacher gave this assignment and Umanga and Lomu created the first right triangle that came to this kid's mind.

My only question is about the decision to use the term "rugby ball" instead of just "ball." Did this kid know that the added context was necessary for his/her classmates (and probably teacher) to understand what the problem was actually about? My feeling is yes, because s/he also wrote "touchdown" rather than "try" in explaining how Lomu would score--clearly this kid has considered how to make the problem accessible to people from other cultural backgrounds.

I must meet this student.

Golden

In the past year or so, I began imposing on myself the rule that when possible, I would not buy foods that were not produced nearby. In New Zealand, that meant foods from Australia and NZ; now it means mostly from the USA's West Coast and maybe Mexico or Canada. Basically, I'm trying to reduce my carbon footprint (international shipping waste and all that) and also eat foods that I know are fresher because they haven't traveled as far. Of course there are downsides like no winter strawberries having to scour Napa for savignon blanc that even slightly resembles the deliciousness of Nelson Marlborough vinyards, but overall it's working pretty well. In winter I eat oranges and I just bought a bottle of California wine this weekend that's touted to "make the New Zealanders shake in their kiwi fields."

But then I was at the market this weekend and there they were...
GOLDEN KIWIFRUIT

Golden kiwifruit, for the uninitiated, is like regular kiwifruit, but with superpowers. They've got the same flavour and sweetness as the traditional green kind, but are less acidic, so you can eat bucketloads without your tongue going raw. Plus, they have softer flesh so they're easier to eat with a spoon. I had never seen the golden ones until moving to NZ, and had never heard of them being sold in the US.

I picked one up, praying that it would miraculously say "California" on the sticker, but no, there was the "New Zealand" label. What to do? Indulge myself at the expense of the ozone layer, or stick to Washington red delicious apples as my snack fruit for the week? Admit a failure of willpower, or declare triumph over my temptations? I chose the latter, and there is now a pile of furry little brown gems sitting in my fruit bowl, disappearing one by one.

In order to avoid further on-the-spot moral compromises, I decided to come up with a list of exceptions to my rule, so I know that next time I see them at the supermarket, I'll suck it up, buy them, and not drive my car as much for the week.
-Tim Tams
-Kumara
-Kapiti Ice Cream (preferably golden kiwifruit and pavlova flavoured)
-Griffin's Malt Biscuits (for making lolly cake)
-Pods
-Toffee Pops

Hey Godzone dwellers: I can think of a really good way how I could get all these things ethically imported (except the kumara maybe) AND get a chance to see you at the same time...

Even Better Together

Two of my favourite things in the whole world are (1) New Zealand and (2) The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. So what happens when something from New Zealand makes it on to the Daily Show? Pure genius.



Maybe the best part is that I heard about this because it was one of the top stories on New Zealand's Prime News, one of three nightly newscasts in NZ. I listen to it as a podcast everyday to help deal with my homesickness (can you call it homesick when it's not really your home?), and this was the perfect example of the kind of Kiwi news reporting I miss so badly.

I Don't Know, Why Does Love Do This to Me?

I first landed in New Zealand on February 14, on my way to Australia. It only seems appropriate that it was Valentine's Day, because from even my first glimpses from the airplane window of the rolling hills and crashing waves, it was love at first sight. And as cheesy as it sounds, I fell deeper and deeper in love with the country the longer I lived there. Now I am back in the States and nothing here has really changed. Except for a few new strip malls and condo developments here and there, it's almost like time was frozen. Which makes me (depressingly) feel like I never left.

But I drive around listening to Che Fu and Bic Runga and knowing that even if Ann Arbor is still the same (kind of a comfort, really), I'm not the same. I've seen incredible things. From Doubtful Sound to Doubtless Bay. Havelock and Havelock North. Palmerston and Palmerston North. Lakes Rotoiti, Rotoroa, Rotorua, and Roto-ua. Braving Cape Kidnappers and Cannibal Bay. Hanging out with Four Sisters (kauri trees) and Three Sisters (limestone pillars) and two sisters (friends of mine). The mussel capital, oyster capital, gumboot capital, sheep shearing capital, art deco capital, trout fishing capital and kiwifruit capitals (not to mention the geopolitical capital) of New Zealand. Digging my toes into white sand, black sand, brown sand, and golden sand. Just to name a few.

What will I remember from the past year? Zorbing. Yellow-eyed penguins. Xtra broadband (and the lack thereof). Ward Terrace and Waiata. Volcanoes. Up north. Tim Tams, Txt, and Te Papa. Sauvignon blanc, Satay Kingdom, and the Skytower. Roundabouts and Rugby. Queries. Pohutukawa, Pakeha, Pukekos, and Pineapple Lumps. One-lane bridges and Outrageous Fortune. New World, Nikau Palms, and No. 1 The Terrace. "Maori Health, this is Geetha." Long Bay, Lattes, and Lolly Cake. Kumara and Koru. Jandals and Jafas. "I'm going to the pub, I may be some time." The Haka and Hot drinks (coffee, tea, or milo?). Give way rules. "Fine freakin' footy." Eden Park. District Health Boards and the Dominion Post. Courtenay Place and Cuba Street. Blanket Man and Blue Milk. And of course, above all else, Aroha.

Good Riddance

In a lame attempt to alleviate at least a little of the sadness about going home, I've decided to dwell on all the things I hate about New Zealand. True, it would probably be more productive and healthy to focus on all the things I love about America, but it's always easier to complain.

Crap Technology
Okay, this isn't completely true, but at least compared to the US, New Zealand is a little behind the times. Not so far behind that I'm in a complete state of deprivation; it wasn't like living in Kenya where I gave everyone my snail mail address and made two phone calls in three months. More like five years behind. So I can see the future--high speed internet, wi-fi, color cell phones--but it's just out of reach. Peter already wrote a blog about living in the internet doldrums, and I've already talked about my annoyance with expensive cell phones and stupid text messages, so I'll just leave it at that.

Lack of Mexican Food
I think I've discussed this before, but proper Mexican food is nowhere to be found. You can find Mexican food, but it's pretty much shopping mall food court quality at fancy restaurant prices. I can make better Mexican food myself. And I have. And I have gotten friends hooked on Mexican rice and quesadillas (which they still can't pronounce). But I still fantasize about taquerias and fresh guacamole and tamales and even about Qdoba and Taco Bell when I'm really desperate. On the other hand, I'm sure I'll get back to the US and immediately start wondering why there aren't Turkish kebab stands and Malaysian restaurants on every corner. I've gotten really hooked on laksa.

Road Signage
On long-distance trips, I like knowing how much farther I have to go at any given time, so I love American interstates with mile markers. These do not occur on New Zealand roads. You sometimes get signs that say how many kilometres left until whatever city, but you have to hope you're going to that city. And those signs can be few and far between. I quickly got used to tracking distance on my own odometer.

Also annoying is that signs never point you north, south, east, etc. They point you toward a place. So when you drive around Auckland, you're sweet if you know that going toward Manukau means going south or that you need to go through Three Kings to get from the airport to my house in Kingsland, but if not good luck. Similarly, driving around the country you need to know the geography of towns to know if you're going in the right direction, and it can be especially confusing when multiple roads lead to your destination. There are numerous ways to get from, say, Hokitika to Nelson, and if you don't know that you want to take a certain highway, you'll pass numerous signs that point you toward towns that are near Nelson, but not quite where you're going. Ugh.

"Good On You"
I've adopted or at least gotten used to most Kiwi slang, but I really hate this phrase. I hate it even more when it's used to refer to a third party i.e. "Good on him". I don't know what it is, but I just hate it.

Baskets at Supermarket Checkouts
When you take a basket to do your grocery shopping, at some point you have to put it back. You unload your groceries on to the checkout, and then put your basket... Well, in the US there's a little bin for them right at the beginning of the checkout, before the conveyor belt. In New Zealand it's after the checkout. So you have to unload your groceries, then hold on to your basket while you pay, take your bags, etc. and then put it at the end of the checkout lane. Or you have to unlaod your groceries, walk around the other people in the queue, put your basket down, and then walk past them again to get back to your place. It drives me crazy every single time. It's not hard to put a little basket corral at the beginning of a checkout, and just think of the increased efficiency.

Poor Customer Service
Maybe I have been a bit spoiled by working at organisations that place a high value on quality customer service, but see what you think of this story: When I was looking for plane tickets back to the US for the wedding in October, I figured it would be cheaper and easier to go through a Kiwi travel agent than use an American website. I asked three travel agents for quotes. One called me back the next day with a quote and when I asked if there were any other dates/times that might change the price, it took her two days to get back to me to say that no, there was no difference. I went into a store, but it took the agent too long to look anything up while I was there, so she called me a few days later with a potential itinerary. When I asked if there was any way to get into Detroit earlier in the day, she said no, that there was only one LAX-DTW flight, as if the direct flight was the only possible way to get between the two airports. A third travel agent was also unable to find flight info while I was sitting in the store, so he took my contact info and then never called. Eventually I spent about 30 minutes checking some American travel websites and ended up with a better itinerary AND price than any of the travel agents had found.

This story has not, unfortunately, been an exception to the customer service rule. In America I'm used to speed and options, and then speediness in finding more options. I want choice, and I want it now.

Excessively Friendly Customer Service
This is not to say that the travel agents weren't lovely people. Kiwis are nice. Very nice. Incredibly nice. Ridiculously nice. So I believe the poor customer service I've encountered is not a reflection of being uncaring or uninterested, but rather just a reflection of the slower pace of life. People are not in a hurry to quote you airfares, nor are they in a hurry to do much else. I, on the other hand, am an American and am always in a hurry. When I go shopping, I like to get in and out and be on my way. Kiwi shopkeepers, no matter whether they're at souvenir shops, the petrol station, or the corner dairy, like to chat. They want to know who you are, where you're from, why you're here. They want to show you things in the store and tell you stories about themselves. There's no used car salesman feel to it; they're not trying to chat you up just to get you to buy something. They just want to talk, and they're truly interested in what you have to say. But I don't want to talk. I want to have a look around, decide if I want anything, and move on. I feel bad cutting off the conversation, but as a cold, unfeeling American I get confused and uncomfortable when people are warm and friendly and genuine. I guess this is not so much something I should hate about New Zealand as something I should hate about myself.

I know this isn't a very long list; I've had a lot of trouble even coming up with these things. It seems I've developed a serious love for this country, so even the hate-able things mostly come with caveats about how they're really blessings in disguise. I don't know whether that's a good or bad sign, but it's definitely a sign that there will be a bit of adjustment period when I get back to the US.

Txt

Txt messaging is such a big part of the culture here--and such a big change for me--that it felt wrong to leave NZ without posting about it, and about cell phone coverage in general.

First, I should say that I can't really imagine how people used to travel without cell phones. Most of the time I've had a permanent address, but how would people have gotten in contact with me for the past three months? But cell phones here are, like most technology, about five years behind. Living in America, I am used to (1) getting a nice, free phone with a contract and (2) paying rates that allow me to pretty much talk as much as I want. I knew coming here that I probably wouldn't be able to get a contract because of my short stay and would therefore end up paying more, but I did not expect to have to (1) buy a phone that did not even come with a discount for buying a phone number at the same time and (2) pay exorbitant rates. I'm talking 20c per text and 89c per minute of phone call. That's worse than roaming in the US!

Interestingly, most people here have pre-paid cell phone plans. It seems like they're maybe spending more this way, but I've not looked into contracts, so maybe it's preferable (although you also get a coveted six-digit number (as opposed to my eight), so that might be worth it). What this means, however, is that in order to save money on texts, people abbreviate and shorten everything. First I thought it was because it was faster, but now most phones are equipped with predictive text/T9, so I find it faster to type most words that way. But no, many Kiwis actually turn off their predictive text. It's annoying. Very annoying.

Here are some examples of actual text messages I've gotten. Some, clearly, are better than others:

"Wen u b hr? It b gud f cn b fridae"
"Im in Welly bak late 2nite"
"How r u? Al gud i hope :-) Any hw drop me a txt n say hurro"
"Swt! Mite met up f nt busy"
"Happy birthday! Hope u'v hd a gr8 day& hav a gud time celebratin"
"Wea u?"
"Wot bout u? Hw ur nyt?"

What's even more annoying is that the automated texts I get from Vodafone use txt language too: "Ur $20 top up has been successful!" Really, you can't add two more letters to that?

I know texting is a big part of the Kiwi lifestyle, particularly for younger people, but I just can't get into it. I think the abbreviations make people sound stupid, and I've discovered that there are some people who I really like talking to in person, but hate talking to over txt. I guess with any form of written communication it's often hard to deduce tone, meaning, etc. but somehow it's a little easier to do it when there are vowels involved.

AJA

One of the things I am most proud of from my time in New Zealand is my car. Buying it was unquestionably one of the best decisions I made in the past year.



I named my car AJA because that's what it says on her license plate. Makes sense to me. I'm not much one for naming cars, but when I was travelling alone it was nice to have a companion. AJA and I ended up being good friends. She carried my stuff for me, took me all over the country, and never caused me any trouble. She was quite worldly: she was fluent in Japanese, and even sported a little sticker with a Japanese tori on the door to the fuel tank. True, she could have gotten up hills a little faster, but if someone made me run 13,000 kms in three months, I'd be a little slow too.



Now, I get the feeling that AJA had a bit of a vengeful side, because when it was time to say goodbye, she just wasn't ready to go. I tried numerous outlets to try to sell her, but in the first few days the most interest I got was a few glances at the car market. On Friday morning I met with a friend of a friend who was looking for a car for his friend. After taking it for a test drive, he came back looking grim. "You know there's a lot of things wrong with it, right?" Yikes. No, I didn't know there was anything wrong with it. The only problem I'd ever had was a squeaking sound when I turned it on sometimes, but after I changed the oil it went away. The guy, who works at a car dealership and knows cars, basically told me that with all the work that needed to go into it, he wouldn't recommend to his friend to buy it for more than $1,000 LESS than what I was asking. Great.

I took it back to the car market dejected. I was even thinking of just going home--sitting on a comfy couch in a nice house is much better than sitting around a car yard. I started mentally preparing myself to sell it some dealer for a couple hundred bucks. But then a miracle occured and some guy started really looking at my car. He asked me if it had ever given me any problems. Nope. He took it for a test drive and seemed to enjoy it. He bounced up and down on it (testing the suspension?). I was all prepared for him to get a mechanical check done and I would offer to knock down the price. But instead he just offered to get some cash--for a total that was actually $100 MORE than I paid for it. Sweet.

But he took a long time getting the cash, and when he came back he said there was a problem with his ATM card (because it was connected to a UK bank). We planned to meet the next day after he could get it sorted. Okay, I could wait another day to make this happen.

When I went out to my car on Saturday morning, I noticed that some maps I'd left in the glove box were strewn across the backseat. Odd. Then I opened the door--which was suspiciously unlocked--and saw that the plastic under the steering column had been ripped out. Someone had definitely broken into my car and tried to hotwire it. I was shaking as I turned it on and drove it back to the car market to meet my buyer (at least hopefully he'd still be my buyer). I cannot explain the relief I felt when the plastic on the steering column popped back together and the guys who run the car market assured me that the vandals couldn't have done any damage. Even more relieving was when the buyer handed me a wad of cash and he was handed a piece of paper saying the car is now in his name. Sorry AJA, but I just couldn't take you home with me.

AJA and I had a good ride together. I'll miss her comfy seats, her pretty blue colour, and her clock that worked when it wanted to. I'll miss cheering her on as we went up New Zealand's mountains and thanking her for the anti-lock brakes as we turned the windy roads. At least we still have our memories.

AJA in front of Aoraki, the highest mountain in New Zealand:


AJA among the wilds of the South Island's West Coast


AJA looks remarkable in the Remarkables on the way from Queenstown to Glenorchy


AJA in front of Mt. Taranaki on the North Island


AJA at the Hokianga Harbour walkway in Northland

Hamsters in a Washing Machine

Very high on my "must do" list in New Zealand was another uniquely Kiwi activity: zorbing. I don't really know how to explain it because I certainly couldn't figure it out until I was actually there doing it.

A zorb ball is three metres (about 9 ft) tall, and looks like a giant golf ball. It's inflated, and there's a little pod in the middle that's maybe a metre and a half high--enough space for three people to fit. You get into the pod into the center, they throw in some warm water to make it slippery, and then push you down a hill.



Erica and I did it together. When we got in the zorb, the staff told us to stand up, and when they tapped the outside we should start running like hamsters. We could stay standing if we wanted, or sit down and enjoy the ride. What they did not explain was that standing or sitting were not really options because pretty much immediately we both fell down and spent the entire ride sliding around, rolling all over and crashing into each other.

I have never laughed so uncontrolably in my entire life.







Unfortunately the zig zag course was only for solo riders, but I still couldn't stop laughing. Check out the silhouette of my legs flying in the air as I go down the hill.

10K k

According to my odometer, I have now driven over 10,000 kilometers. I think this entitles me to comment on New Zealand road conditions with some authority.

Obviously, it is quite different driving here than in the US. You'd think that this is due to the cars driving on the other side of the road, but I was actually able to get used to that with surprising speed. There's also a weird "give way" (yield) rule about left turners giving way to right turners coming from the opposite direction, but that was also not too bad to get used to as long as you're aware of it. I was also surprised at how much I actually like roundabouts now--they really reduce the amount of time you sit around waiting, which I cannot say for traffic lights.

The biggest adjustment has been the road conditions. I have done a fair amount of long-distance driving in the United States, and I now understand how lucky we are to have the interstate system that we do. The major state highways in New Zealand are small--one lane on each side almost the entire way. This has taught me how to pass other drivers by having to drive in a lane occupied for oncoming traffic, which I find ridiculously frightening. Significantly more frightening than jumping out of a plane. The only time I have have noticed "motorway" is around the five largest cities, and even then it's not really significant motorway except in Auckland. I can't tell you how how exciting it was to get back to Auckland and have what I consider to be legitimate highways to drive on.

More frightening than two lane roads are one lane roads, which are a surprisingly common feature of New Zealand roads. One lane bridges pepper the roads, and even though there are signs stating which direction has the right ow way, I still get very very nervous driving on them. The worst, however, was a nice stretch of one lane road on State Highway 6 on the West Coast of the South Island. It snaked along a winding cliff face, only giving you blurry mirrors to see if there were cars coming in the other direction.

Speaking of windy roads... New Zealand is full of them. I have never seen so many hairpin turns, even when going through, say, the Rocky Mountains. They're everywhere, and they're usually accompanied by steep hills and sheer cliff faces, often with little or no guard rail. On the upside, I think I'm going to be very good at race car video games by the time I'm finished here.

I do have to say I've actually been grateful for the windy roads sometimes. New Zealand is full of breathtaking scenery, and the twists and turns around mountain corners mean that instead of a slow approach to a beautiful lookout, you're hit with it all at once as you come around a hill. It's kind of an adventure to find out what's around the next corner, because many times I've found that it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Beginning of the End

It's not like I ever thought of this whole traveling thing would be permanent. But when I embarked on this adventure last February, the end seemed SO far away. And for the most part it's continued to feel that way. Even though I've been sort of planning for what's next for some time, steps like taking the GRE or sending out grad school applications didn't really connect to actually coming home.

Then little things started happening that made everything feel final. First I quit my job back in February. Then I got acceptance letters from Stanford and Harvard, and my fantasy about not getting into grad school--and having an excuse to renew my NZ visa--was crushed. My family's visit came and went. My list of "must do" activities slowly got ticked off one by one as I headed further and further south. Erica's visit, which we have been talking about for ages, is actually happening and will be over in a few days. On Saturday we took the ferry from Picton to Wellington and I've officially left the South Island for good (barring some miracle).

But then came the punch that made it all real: I booked my plane ticket home. No more pretending that my final flight back to the US is all a distant dream. It's happening. In a month.

Paradise: Not Lost, Definitely Not Found

Queenstown is beautiful. It's nestled in the Remarkables (they are pretty remarkable) right on the shores of Lake Wakitipu. Here's the view outside my window when I woke up. Not too shabby, eh?



However, Queenstown is a bit touristy for my tastes, so I set off toward Glenorchy, an area where much of Lord of the Rings was filmed. My Lonely Planet mentioned that just past Glenorchy is a town called Paradise, so obviously I had to find it. Outside Glenorchy, I found a sign that said "Paradise, 12km," so I checked my odometer and set off down the unsealed road. My car is somewhat of a rock star and handles unsealed roads with finesse, but I was still a little unsettled by a sign just after entering Mount Aspiring National Park--the first of its kind I've seen--saying "Proceed at your own risk."





Then I came to a small stream. It wasn't that big, but I didn't really want to risk getting stuck so far out in the middle of nowhere. My odometer told me that I was pretty close, and since it was a beautiful day there was no reason not to park and walk the remaining 2kms. I strolled along the road, passing farmland with sheep grazing in front of the snow-capped mountains. The sun was shining, but since it's just turning to autumn (they do not call it fall here, and give me funny looks when I do) it was an ideal temperature. Highly picturesque, highly pastoral, and highly New Zealand.





However, even beautiful scenery can get a little old when you feel like you've been walking longer than planned. Unfortunately I hadn't taken note of the time when I set off, but I definitely felt like I'd been walking for more than 2kms. I decided to give up and go back to the car. When I got back to the little stream, I reassessed and decided it would be possible to ford without any damage.

So I tried again, and fortunately my car made it successfully over the creek. It turned out that I not only had gone more than 2 kms on foot; I actually had gone about 5. Which means that I should have reached and passed Paradise. But I kept driving. I soon hit another stream, which I crossed nervously. And then another, and then another. When I finally reached a fifth, very large stream, I weighed the awesomeness of a photo in front of a Paradise sign with the potential disaster of a broken down car. I decided there are probably other Paradise signs in other towns called Paradise (Google Maps now tells me there are 10 in the USA alone) and that I'd rather visit one of those than have to take the bus around the rest of New Zealand.

The next day I ran into a British guy I'd met in Doubtful Sound. We'd talked about how we both wanted to go to Paradise, so he was curious to know if I'd made the trip. He had gone as well, and when I told him about my ordeal he looked at me like I was an idiot. "You know there's no Paradise sign, right?" It turns out that my little hike had taken me right into the heart of Paradise and I hadn't even known it. A metaphor for something deeper? Perhaps. Although I'm not sure what to make of the idea that paradise might be nothing more than a sheep paddock.

A Perfectly Good Ledge

So here I am in New Zealand, home of all kinds of scary adventure activities. And currently I am in Queenstown, where AJ Hackett invented bungy jumping. It was a long internal debate about whether or not to bungy jump. I decided that if I was going to do it, I was going to do the nevis jump, which is 143m high. They suspend you out over the middle of a gorge from a gondola. If you're gonna do it, you gotta do it right.

But I chickened out. I couldn't bring myself to do it, especially considering the exorbitant fee attached. On the other hand, I couldn't really leave here without doing anything daredevil-ish. So I opted for something that you can only do here in Queenstown: the Canyon Swing. Situated in the Shotover Canyon, the swing "lets" you jump off a 109m platform, freefall 60m, and swing an arc that stretches 200m. Much more fun than a bungy jump, I'd say.

I ended up doing two jumps. The first was eloquently titled "Gimp Boy Goes to Hollywood" (their name, not mine). They suspend you in the air just off the platform, flip you upsidedown so you're facing head first into the canyon, and let you go flying. Awesome.




The next one was more scary for me because I actually took the leap off the platform instead of being released. And I jumped backwards. Okay, it wasn't so much of a jump as a fall. I was so freaked out that the guys had to basically talk me into it. I think they started to get annoyed with my by the end, but I am glad I did not completely chicken out and walk away. How else would I have gotten these awesome pictures?

Sounds Good to Me

There are a couple of natural wonders that I can't get enough of. These include waterfalls, shooting stars, rainbows, and colourful sunsets. I know, I'm not exactly unique in loving these things, but I love them more than, say, pretty plants or something.

So Fiordland was pretty much the ideal place for me to take this all in. I was running a bit late on my way up to Te Anau on Saturday night, but I was rewarded with pink clouds as the sun sank below the mountains. I have witnessed a good number of Otago sunsets now, and they continue to take my breath away each time.





By the time I got to Te Anau, a tiny little town on Lake Te Anau, the stars were stunning.

There are two main sounds that people visit from Te Anau: Milford and Doubtful. I should note that they are technically not sounds, but fiords (sounds are carved by lakes; fiords by glaciers). But when the Europeans named them, they did not have a word for fiord, so we are stuck with the names.

Milford has a reputation for being more touristy--which definitely turned out to be true. But instead of miss out on this "8th wonder of the world" (to quote Rudyard Kipling), I figured I'd see it in the least touristy way possible: by kayak. I had never been sea kayaking before, but I can't imagine a better introduction. I want to mention the name of the company I went with, Fiordland Wilderness Experience, because it was definitely one of the best tours I've taken. The guide was fantastic and the trip was nonstop fun. I can't even begin to think of a word that describes the majesty and beauty of Milford. Basically, it's being right in the middle of the mountains, but on the water instead of on a hiking trail. And it rains about 2/3 of the time (I was super lucky to get a clear day), so there are waterfalls constantly rushing down the lush green walls of the mountains. Pictures cannot even come close to doing it justice.







One fun little trick is what our guide called the dwarfing effect. Everything is so huge, that things appear closer than they are. When we started off, she pointed to a waterfall in the distance and asked how far away we thought it was. (It's the little white streak to the left of the mountain in the picture below. The orange thing is the tip of my kayak). I would have guessed a kilometer or so away. Wrong. It was 8kms away.



On the way back to Te Anau, we stopped at some choice spots along the Milford Road. Below is the Hollyford Valley. It looks like it's been deforested, but it's actually naturally free of trees. The air gets so cold down in the valley that trees can't grow--sort of like the tree line on a mountain.



I was a huge fan of the mirror lakes. No specific reason; it just looked really cool.





I had thought about kayaking on Doubtful Sound as well, but am glad I didn't. Being physically inactive while travelling has definitely made me weaker, and after a full day of kayaking my arms were ready to fall off. So I went for a "cruise" on Doubtful Sound. Getting there is a little trickier. First you take a speedboat across Lake Manapouri, then a bus ride through the mountains. The remote-ness definitely makes it less touristy. Which was awesome.





While the walls of the mountains were not as high as in Milford, the sound was bigger and pretty much empty except for our boat. We sailed out to the Tasman Sea and back, again passing waterfall after waterfall.





Also a highlight was sampling the clean, fresh mountain water--straight from the waterfall.



And with so much moisture in the air, I even got my rainbow.



The thing about seeing all these awesome places is that it just makes me keep planning my next trip back to New Zealand. Next time I'm in Fiordland, I will be skydiving (what a view!) and doing an overnight kayak trip. Eventually I will become a good enough kayaker to make my way to the more remote, more challenging Dusky Sound. Yes, all this in my spare time.