Glutarded

hello, old friend

2010-09-20T19:01:00.001-07:00

Isn't it strange how the Interwebs let you peek in on peoples' lives in such an intimate, yet still disassociated way? Even more strange is the fact that people actually want you to read about (and comment) upon the minutia that makes up their lives. Everyone is looking for some sort of validation and it just so happens that this is the easiest place to find it.

I won't even attempt to lie and say that I don't post what I'm cooking for dinner on le facebook. I do. I want you bitches to be jealous.

But enough about me. Let's talk about Christine O'Donnell being a witch!

Amma

2009-07-07T12:25:00.000-07:00

She entered dressed in pure white and wearing one of those smiles that springs from some deep-down well of happiness. The entire room of thousands fell silent as she crossed the stage. It’s hard to believe such a tiny woman with a penchant for hugging can have such an enormous effect on people from every walk of life. Her crowds in the states are nothing compared to the numbers she draws in her native India.

Last week, two friends and I went to see Amma, “the hugging saint, “ at the DFW Hyatt. We walked in and got swept up in the rush of the sari-clothed crowds. I ran over to get in line where it said “Darshan Tokens”. (Darshan is what Amma calls the motherly hug she gives to everyone that meets her.) Unintentionally (I swear!), I cut in front of hundreds of people in the Darshan line. That’s right, I cut in line to have a spiritual experience. Sometimes even when I try to be good, it turns out bad. However, my accomplices in this spiritual theft were quite happy that we didn’t have to wait in line for four hours to get our hug.

Sitting on the floor in front of the stage, I took a moment to glance around the room at the huddled masses. There were black, white, brown, yellow, pink, very old, very young, middle aged, wrinkly, smooth, tall, short, and every combination in between. It felt like we sat there for ages, but maybe it was just the hard floor on my un-cushioned ass. Finally the ceremony started with a kind-looking bearded man telling of his experiences as a follower of Amma. His resemblance to another bearded holy man couldn’t go unnoticed. All the while Amma was on stage there was the cutest Indian boy of about seven sitting next to her. Eventually he got tired and fell asleep until the singing began. This was my favorite part of the service. I could close my eyes and imagine that I was somewhere in India. The music was repetitive, but joyful.

After three hours the service ended and it was time to wait in line for Darshan. We decided to get a cup of chai, but our numbers came up sooner than we expected, requiring us to abandon our tea and run into the next room. I tried to stay excited about finally getting to hug Amma, but the whole waiting in line, wait for your number to be called thing cut into the zen of the moment. It felt like a production line or waiting for concert tickets. Her followers kept asking to see my ticket and then rushing me into another seat.

Eventually I made it to the front of the line and was told to kneel in front of her. I must have had three different people dragging my arms in three different directions. Someone pushed my head down onto her ample bosom and asked me what language I spoke. “English,” I replied. Not understanding what difference it would make since Amma didn’t speak it. Amma enveloped me in her arms that were heavily perfumed with flowers. She marked my forehead with something wet. Then I was grabbed and pushed away.

Then I knelt down to try and stay in the moment and absorb some of the spirituality in the room, but a very angry man in a blue kaftan yelled at me and told me that I could not kneel there, “You are blocking the entire exit! Who told you that you could sit there?” I guess even people who are in the business of promoting peace have their off-days.

I asked someone nearby why Amma marked my forehead, since I hadn’t seen her do that to anyone else. A lady told me that it was a very good sign. That it was sandalwood paste and it had a cooling effect on the body. Maybe Amma could tell that I was in need of a little extra help.

On the whole the experience ended up being more cultural than spiritual for me. I didn’t walk away from Amma with a renewed sense of purpose, or smelling like flowers for the next few days like I had heard from others’ experiences. Instead, I walked away with some sandalwood paste on my forehead and a lighter feeling in my step. But really, what more could someone ask of a simple hug?

adventures in suburbia.

2009-06-01T23:13:00.001-07:00

I am sixteen again, driving home Sunday evening and listening to The Adventure Club with Josh. As soon as I get home, I run to my room, shut the door, and turn up my radio to make sure that I don’t miss the next new band that I will be obsessed with.

I haven’t been home for ten months (let’s make it easier on ourselves and just call it a year.), and I haven’t listened to the Adventure Club in twice as long. Hearing these kooky voices that would never be played on a regular radio format makes me immensely happy. All I can do is smile and lay on my bed like a lovesick teenager.

Nothing gets close to the rush of excitement I feel when I hear a song by a band that I’ve never heard, and it’s actually good. People will always try and get me to like their new favorite thing, and sometimes I’ll tag along, but there’s nothing like finding it myself. It’s my own discovery. I found the buried treasure. I get to bask in the glory when I give my friends a cd and say, “Here, listen to this. It will change your life.” Yeah, that sounds really pompous, but whatever. Good music can change your life. When I no longer believe this, that’s when I will have been robbed of my youthful spirit. Then I’ll start going to Denny’s for the early bird special and voting republican.

Driving home and listening to the music of my adolescence played on the radio threw me under a wave of nostalgia. For that evening, my car was a time machine and my radio was the flux-capacitor.

a fond farewell to a friend.

2009-05-20T00:25:00.001-07:00

i don't understand, and i probably never will. but there's still some things i wanted to say to you and i guess here is my only chance. i hope you have the internet wherever you are.

we never realize the impact we have on other people's lives until we no longer have that connection. if you knew how many people you'd touched, maybe it wouldn't have been so easy for you to make the choice you did. maybe it would have been harder for you to throw in the towel and leave us.

you gave me something that not many people in my life have been able to: confidence. you told me that i was good enough to share my music with a room full of people. you told me that i was good enough to play music with you. the reason your compliments mattered so much to me was because i admired you as a musician. i wanted to be able to pluck the strings with the same kind of effortless grace you did. i wanted to be able to start up a song and have the whole room singing along.

those cold winter nights making music around bonfires are some of the happiest times i can ever remember having. i felt like i was part of something, and you were one of the main reasons that i felt like i belonged.

i only wish that i could have made you feel the same way.

you kept writing me even when i was away. you told me to have a good time and make friends and that you would still be there to jam with me when i got back home. my heart breaks knowing that this will never be true.

i looked forward to giving you a big hug and playing some sappy love songs together that everyone else would roll their eyes at. but you got it. you always understood my affinity for the sad songs.

you showed me the beauty of making music with other people. that is a gift that will live on forever.

i hope that you're making music wherever you are.

peace & love,

the glutard

Fush and Chups, Bro

2009-03-10T16:22:00.000-07:00

I’ve been a bad writer lately, or maybe I’ve just been living in the spirit of procrastination. Something always seems to jump up and grab my attention away from putting my thoughts and adventures on paper. So I guess this morning is as good as any to break the cycle and document some history.

Two days ago the weather turned cold. The season is a changin’. If fall is this cold, then I’m afraid my poor Texan heart won’t be able to make it through winter. Stock up on your thermals, folks. At the moment, the mountains outside my window are sprinkled with snow that looks like powdered sugar. The sky is cloudy, making the lake a steely, blue-gray hue. Even when the weather is less than perfect, the view from my window still is.

It’s been so long since I’ve written on here, I’m not sure where to begin, so I guess there’s no time like the present. As of last week, I work at a little restaurant on the lake called Botswana Butchery. It is Oh So Posh. I work as a bartender slinging cocktails and $700 bottles of champagne to the rich folk. At the end of the night my hands are sore from polishing crystal wine glasses, but it’s a good sore.

I almost did run home last month. I decided that I would go ahead and use my ticket: February 8, Auckland to DFW. I spent two weeks saying goodbye to Queenstown and seeing all the things I wanted to before leaving forever. And then, reality smacked me across the face. I would be leaving paradise to go back home to a recession economy.

The main reason I wanted to leave here is the lack of jobs in my field of study: advertising. BUT, no Dallas advertising agencies are hiring junior copywriters in the current economic situation. Imagining myself waiting or bartending in Dallas, when I could be doing the same thing here, was just a little too much to face. SO! I stayed!

This was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made, besides coming over here in the first place. I actually like my job. I love my flat and my flatmates. And, looking out my window is the equivalent to doing two hours of yoga. I can have a stressful evening and then wake up in the morning and look out my window, and think, ‘Hey, no matter what’s going on, I still live here, and I still get to look at this.’

queenstown style

2009-01-30T15:53:00.000-08:00

the ferg.

2009-01-09T14:57:00.000-08:00

it's not for the faint of heart, or those that are easily bruised.

it's an easy equation: if you come to queenstown, you will end up eating at fergburger. so when the population of queenstown increased tenfold over the new years, fergburger went insane along with the people that work there. i tried so hard to remain bright and shiny even after that korean lady screamed at me to cut her burger in half, and even after that other dude waved money in my face screaming "FRIES, PLEASE, MA'AM!" i think many of the people working there forget to just take a deep breath and repeat the mantra, "we're only serving burgers..." at least this is what i do.

the day after new years i got called in to work at ten hour shift, and the day after that it was fourteen hours and then another ten the day after that. i couldn't feel my feet for the rest of the week. i had nightmares of burgers and people screaming out numbers. i couldn't wash the stench of grease from my skin.

my skin. another topic altogether. i stand in front of a fryer for most of the day. so, naturally, my face looks like a piece of pepperoni pizza. this is having a wonderful effect on my social life. in so many ways this job is like going through puberty again: i feel awkward because half the time i don't know what i'm doing, my face keeps breaking out, and all the boys are pervs.

it's getting easier, though. i think i've gotten through that three week learning curve, where at the end of everyday you want to run home and never come back. one afternoon i saw the bus for fernhill (where i live) drive by. i seriously contemplated jumping on and getting a new phone number so ferg couldn't find me. but then i realized that i really like living with my flatmates and i also really enjoy eating.

walking into fergburger is a lot like walking into the U.N. everyone comes from somewhere else and no one understands eachother. i can't even understand the english or the australians half the time. i've heard our menu mispronounced so many times that i have to guess what the customer is trying to order. sometimes it's like charades. the only time i was actually annoyed was when this australian girl came in and ordered the "fergburger with brie", but she pronounced it like "bry". i don't know why, but i had to put my hand in my pocket to stop from punching her in the neck. shouldn't everyone know how to pronounce brie? isn't that a fairly common cheese? know your cheeses, people.

there's many japanese working at ferg that are also trying to learn english. of course all the english guys teach them how to say really offensive things. things that i probably shoudn't write on here because my mom might see it and repeat it. you've really got to watch what you say around parents these days... they only have to hear something once...

happy christmas

2008-12-28T15:57:00.001-08:00

christmas in queenstown is kind of a joke, or maybe americans are just a little too merry. either way, it didn't really feel like christmas. there were very few lights, very few decorations, almost no carols, no stores smelling like cinnamon and cloves. i guess this is just the wrong hemisphere for that kind of stuff.

i worked at fergburger on christmas eve. no one told me merry christmas and a lot of people seemed bitchier than usual. or maybe that was just me because i had to work on christmas eve. i finished work at ten that evening and headed around the corner to pog mahone's irish pub where i found all of my friends. then it felt like christmas. lots of drunk irish and english people, pints in hand, arms around eachother's shoulders, singing the one verse of "don't they know it's christmas-time" that they knew.

i took a cab home to wash the smell of fergburger off me. my flatmates were asleep and my "ho! ho! ho!" fell on deaf ears. i drank some cider by the light of the tree and then we all headed out to a party in arthur's point. it wasn't the most traditional way to celebrate christmas, but it was fun. there wasn't really any point in trying to make it feel like christmas at home. we all danced well into the next morning and watched the sun rise over the mountains and river.

christmas day i slept late and made tacos for the irish. i'm slowly learning that tacos are something you have to grow up with to be obsessed with. the irish were polite and said they enjoyed them, but it wasn't like tasting home for them. they can taste home anytime they want, there's potatoes and beer all around here.

christmas is about family and home, two things i don't currently have with me, so all us wanderers in queenstown did the best we could with what we had, but it wasn't really christmas for any of us. new years, though, i think we can handle that holiday.

over the edge

2008-12-18T13:37:00.001-08:00

there's quite a few things i have to report. i quit my horrible, soul-crushing job at the hotel. life is too short to work for ungrateful meanies. i was surprised at how easy it was to find a new job. "trials" are really big in queenstown. if you apply to work in a bar or restaurant, they'll take your resume and then bring you in for a trail, which is basically sink or swim. my trial at winnie's bar was on a friday night. winnie's is one of the four bars that everyone who comes to queenstown ends up in. it was my first time to tend bar and i did a damn good job, if i do say so myself. but i realized that i really like being on the other side of the bar. also, drunk people are really annoying if you're not drunk as well.

my next trial was at fergburger. fergburger is one of the best hamburgers you'll have in your life. they're massive and made with really fresh ingredients. i trialed for the role of "the fluffer". if you're familiar with the term, i promise, it's not what it sounds like. the fluffer at fergburger does a little bit of everything (no, not that), but mostly i get paid to talk to tourists and make sure they're happy. i just finished my first week there, and i really enjoyed it. it's not an uptight five-star environment like my last job was. my co-workers aren't afraid to have fun and joke around. i feel like i'm appreciated, even though it's not the most important job in the world.

also, i'm exercising my social skills, something i wasn't so great at before i came away. five months ago i would've had a very hard time just walking up to strangers and striking up a conversation with them. now i am well-versed in the art of small-talk. it's amazing how many interesting stories you can hear if you just smile and ask questions. the other day i walked past a table of men and heard some very familiar accents. so on my way back to the kitchen i stopped by and said, "so where are ya'll from?" you guessed it, fort worth, texas. turns out they know my dad. the world just keeps getting smaller and smaller. after that i met some girls that travelled from morocco, all over africa, southeast asia and now new zealand. this isn't uncommon. tons of kids my age do this. i never knew that so many other people had a wanderer's spirit like me.

yesterday i dragged my ass out of bed and went in to work, only to find out that i wasn't on the roster for that day. (thanks for letting me know where the roster is, guys!) since i was already in town i decided to go with my friends up the mountain to go luging. while we were waiting to luge, we watched some people bungying off the ledge there. the views are amazing and it looked like a lot of fun. so i thought, 'what the hell...i didn't get out of bed today for nothing...' and i went and bought my ticket. i made sure not to look over the edge before i jumped even though the yahoo guys harnessing me in tried to make me. i did a running start, but when i got to the edge, my brain told me, 'oh no, this is not a good idea!' i thought i stopped running, but as the video shows, i was still running on my way down. i screamed my head off and thought my stomach was going to come out of my ears. it was so much fun. i could see all of queenstown and the lake and mountains. when i got back up i didn't think i was going to be able to stand because i was shaking so much. but i did. and then we all went luging, which was also hella fun. so i guess i'm glad that i didn't know i wasn't supposed to go to work, because otherwise i would've done something lame like go grocery shopping.

There’s no turkey in New Zealand

2008-11-28T13:29:00.000-08:00

Two days ago I celebrated my first Thanksgiving away from home. I borrowed my flatmate's car, at her suggestion, and drove to Frankton to the cheap grocery store. This was also the first time I had driven in New Zealand.

Sitting on the wrong side of the car, on the wrong side of the road is kind of an out-of-body experience. It reminded me of the first time I drove to school by myself. I didn't turn on the radio (I found out later that it's broken anyways...) so that I could use every ounce of concentration in my being on not wrecking my flatmate's car. It was one of those situations where I just had to avoid using any of my natural instincts because I knew they would be wrong. I'm sure I pissed off a few locals by driving so slow. My Kiwi friend, Sophie, always honks and yells out her window, "WE'RE NOT ALL ON HOLIDAY!!!" when tourists aren't driving up to her standards. I forgot how much I love driving. That sense of speed and life and death. Walking everywhere doesn't give you those sensations. Well, I guess walking out in front of traffic in Queenstown is taking your life into your own hands, but still, the feeling is different.

I had to pull out all the stops for my Thanksgiving dinner. I wanted to impress my flatmates since they've never celebrated the holiday, so I loaded up on cream and butter and got to work. I cooked the entire meal by myself in three hours. Not to brag, but I felt like quite the culinary badass.

The Menu:
-whipped potatos with chives
-gluten free sage dressing
-blue cheese and pear salad
-cranberry sauce with orange zest
-mustard and tarragon pork shoulder
-apple turnovers with fresh whipped cream

Dude, it was tasty. I ate so much that I had to take a break and go put on my eatin' pants. Everyone enjoyed their first Thanksgiving. Success!

Street Cred

2008-11-21T22:37:00.000-08:00

I was sittin' here thinkin', because I do that sometimes. I left "the south" to travel even further south, to the South Island. I guess a southern girl just can't escape that fact. Last night my roommate confided in me that he really does enjoy country music, but he can't tell his wife or any of his friends because that would completely ruin his street cred. And I guess I can see how being a body piercer with a deep, unabiding love for Kenny Chesney, might not go over so well with his clientele. I mean it's hard enough to get people to let you poke holes in their faces, but if you start singing, "Devil Went Down to Georgia," needle in hand, your customer might flench and then you've got a pierced eyeBALL instead of a pierced eyeBROW. I digress.

I have taken it upon myself to educate Dave in the ways of country music. I feel it is my duty as a Texan to do so. The thing is I'm not so sure where to start because a lot, if not most, country music is complete shit. I also feel it is my duty to educate New Zealanders in the majesty that is Mexican Food. I hope New Zealand won't kick me out of their country for trying to push my screwed-up redneck values on them, but in the end, when they have taco grease stains on their shirts and "Whiskey River" in their ears, they'll smile and thank me.

The other day we had a staff meeting at Hell, or Work, where I learned that our hotel is considered "Five Star". Uh, wouldn't that have been something I should've found out at the interview? I probably would've bragged about how I work at a FIVE star hotel. Not four. FIVE. Oh well. Now they're trying to encourage me to scrub dirt out of corners under the pretense that we're a five star hotel and we need to provide "five star service". So now I guess I'll have to stop scrubbing the toilet bowls with the guests' toothbrushes.

the crib

2008-11-21T22:12:00.000-08:00

yeah, so this is the view from my living room.

what it do

2008-11-11T13:51:00.000-08:00

So first off, I 'd like to say, "Hello, World. I am OK."

I found a flat with a room of my own. And the view. Oh Dear Lord, the view. My floor-to-ceiling living room windows look directly out onto Lake Wakatipu with Walter Peak and The Remarklables mountain range on the other side. I pretty much spend my days off sitting here watching the sunlight change on the mountains. It never gets boring. I live in an area called Fern Hill. This means I have to walk down a big ass hill to get to work in the morning and up a big ass hill to get home in the afternoon. Fortunately a couple of my coworkers live in the same area and have cars. Man, cars are so awesome. You never realize how fun it is to ride in a car until you haven't for a couple months. I got really excited yesterday to just come along to drop my roommates off at a dinner party with my other roomie because I'd get to ride in the car. There was really no reason for me to go. This sometimes makes me feel like a golden retriever with my head out the window and gums flapping in the breeze.

Walking isn't so bad, though. Especially when you get to walk past a postcard everyday. Sometimes it's a little ridiculous how beautiful this place is. And then I get to work and pick up some rich people's towels that they throw all over the floor or I pay $4 for a bag of spinach and realize that this beauty does come at a price. I guess everything evens out in the end. The walking has given me something I've never had in my twenty-two years of existence: muscles. Like, ones on my body. I have some on my arms and some huge ones on my legs. Who'da thunk...

My roommates are really, really cool. That was a dumb sentence, but it's true. Jane and Dave are the owners of the flat. Jane waits at a restaurant in town and Dave works a couple towns over as a chef, but he's opening a body piercing studio soon. And you know what that means! Half-price nipple rings! Dreams really do come true...
My other roommate is Michelle. Michelle is Irish and is looking for a job. I like listening to her talk. She teaches me new words for things daily. A closet/cabinet= a "press". The trunk of the car = the "boot". In the evenings we all sit around and take the piss out of eachother (That's another Irish/English/Kiwi term for joking around.)and watch TV. They're all really nice people and I don't mind having to walk up a big ass hill to live with them in their awesome flat with their great music collection.

My job is getting a little easier. Well, kind of. I think I know what I'm doing now, or I'm giving the impression that I know, so the bitchy girls I work with are not up my ass constantly. Now they're only up my ass occasionally. Gotta take those wins where you can. Also, I've learned how to use the espresso machine, which makes me feel rather fancy.

We don't have wireless internets at home yet, so my internet time has been severely downgraded. In a couple weeks I will post some pictures of the flat and things. Congratulations if you read all of this. I applaud your perserverance and your literacy.

bitchfest

2008-10-30T23:11:00.000-07:00

i cleaned the nastiest toilet i've encountered so far today. for some reason, i was outraged. it was like that shit-stain was a personal attack against me. that guest just wanted to crap all over my morning. in a strange coincidence there were cookie crumbs all around the toilet. who eats cookies in the bathroom?

i clean rooms for eight hours every day. i can literally feel my brain shrinking for lack of use. and after all this physically demanding work, i still can't afford to do the things i want to do in queenstown. i'm starting to rethink why i came here. i didn't come to new zealand to settle and this feels like settling. i came here to live differently than i was in texas. it seems like i'm stagnating here without any real goal or direction. the whole point of my having a job is to be able to fund the activities that are specifically new zealand. i can't bungi-jump at home, i can't go to milford sound...

at the same time, i don't want to jump the gun and go home just because things aren't working out the way i want them to. i'm already here, it will be much harder to come back than to go home...but right now that's all i want to do. i want to celebrate halloween in texas. nobody gets it here. i am the only one dressed up, mostly as an act of defiance because i'm fed up with new zealand. i'm tired of paying $5 for milk. i'm tired of $13 hamburgers. i'm tired of not being able to get a TACO when i want one, which is pretty much every second of every day.

so tonight i'm going out with my friends and i'll head home early because i have to be at work at 7am to scrub some more toilets. then i'll try to find a place to live that doesn't require me to hike up a mountain to get to it.

i miss texas and my friends and family. this homesickness is harder to shake than i thought it would be.

this person is employed

2008-10-20T23:38:00.001-07:00

mission monotanous

2008-10-08T22:28:00.001-07:00

davide was a venetian. "venice is a city in northern italy, not a beach in california."
why thank you, davide. i won't tell you that i know this because i spent a week there only because i'm trying to kiss your ass.

my first mistake was showing up early. because of this i got to vacuum an entire ballroom, which took two hours. my second mistake was not taking a break on my own and getting to the free dinner after it was cold. oh well, it was still free.

then the function started and i carried trays of canapes to drunk aussies for the next six hours. the aussies like their fried fish and their beer. they are not big fans of the vegetable fritatta. they also want to know if you take drink orders and would just keep the beer coming.

the entertainment for the evening (besides the aussies themselves) was two guys in white suits singing classic cheese. at one point one of them was in an elvis suit. there was also a classic rock band that played long enough to let the executives show off their best dance moves.

after the function ended, we spend three hours cleaning up. i did get to drink a couple of glasses of wine with the other workers afterwards. i also got some chocolate mousse. score!

this post will self-destruct in 5..4..3..2..

2008-10-06T19:01:00.001-07:00

my job search has gone better than i expected, given that i just signed up with the temp agency yesterday and received a text message for a job this morning.

"it's a 5pm start. millenium hotel. ask for davide at reception. wear ALL BLACK."

it all feels a bit like mission impossible. "this is your assignment, should you choose to accept it..."

fingers crossed that davide has a fake french accent.

i've met more germans here than kiwis.

2008-10-03T15:52:00.000-07:00

i'm ready to settle down and see how the natives live. two months on the road has shown me in great detail how young backpackers live. (go,go, go, drink, drink, go.) i can't keep up with that lifestyle. i'd like to have a bit of a routine. routines give you the chance to meet people in a comfortable setting with a sense of normalcy that everything on the kiwi bus lacks. a regular income would also give me the chance to find a place of my own, or even just a room of my own.

the lack of personal space in hostels has made me realize how much of an only-child i really am. being alone becomes a necessity for me. going out every night and spending every second of every day with other people starts to get really draining around day four. time and space to myself is like a reset button i can press that makes me a more like-able person to be around and helps me appreciate the people i'm with.

for instance: right now, i'm sitting at the dining room table and a guy just came up to use the hostel's computer. he types so loudly, he sounds like he's trying to punish the keyboard. i want to rip his hands off. this is just another example of why i need my personal space; it reduces the violent thoughts in my head.

smells like texas

2008-10-01T04:28:00.000-07:00

it's nice to be missed, comforting even, but knowing that people miss me makes me realize how many people i do miss. and it's not just people, it's smells, food, the feeling that familiar places give me that i didn't notice until now that i'm constantly in different and unfamiliar settings. i miss that feeling of "aaahhhh" i get when i walk in the door to my house and it smells like me. i don't think i even smell like me anymore. all this weird laundry detergent and strange air has probably altered my scent a fair bit. hopefully my cat will recognize me when i get home.

hostels never have a comforting scent. this is probably due to the fact that most backpackers don't bathe as often as they should. i've never felt unsafe in a hostel, but there is something unsettling about sleeping underneath and next to strangers crammed in like sardines on squeaky bunk-beds. i was surprised to learn how many people talk in their sleep. i can only hope that i'm not one of them. who knows what kind of incriminating things my subconscious would come up with.

Not many, if any

2008-09-25T01:02:00.000-07:00

I was sitting on the bus this morning. Most my mornings start like this. I rush and pack my everything into my obscenely-full bags, throw everything on the bus, get a good seat away from the British girl that thinks it's hilarious to yell "I KNOW, RIGHT?!?!" every five seconds, and then I crank my iPod up to full-blast. I spend the next couple hours listening to great tunes and looking out the window at the riduclous perfection that seems to be the norm on the South Island.

Today our journey was from Franz Josef to Waineka. The drive started out overlooking the Tasmanian Sea. It was hard to tell the sky from the sea, but the sea was a little more turquoise. Green fern-covered cliffs stretched and dove into the ocean. Birds sang, I sighed, just another morning in paradise.

Then we stopped for coffee and I took a walk to a clear lake that perfectly reflected the snow-peaked mountains into it. The lake was like a mirror.

The diversity of New Zealand never fails to amaze me. I think as soons as it does, it will be time to head home. Yesterday I hiked the Franz Josef glacier. It's a glacier in the middle of a rainforest. (Yeah, it doesn't make sense to me either...) Our guide told us that he went surfing that morning and later that afternoon he was leading our hike up a massive piece of prehistoric ice. I believe this is the only place in the world where that dichotomy is possible.

The hike was pretty hard-core. The terrain wasn't exactly paved. I was very happy that I got to wear my own hiking boots instead of the wet nasty ones they provided. I did have to borrow some crampons though. (Crampons are they spikes you attach to the bottom of your boots to keep you from slipping on the ice.) It's terribly juvenile of me, but I couldn't stop giggling to myself everytime someone would say crampons. Rhymes with...

Tomorrow I head for beautiful Queenstown. I'll be happy to get off this crazy-train for a while. It's good to go, but it's just as good to stop.

Sometimes you just have to get off the bus

2008-09-18T19:21:00.000-07:00

My Kiwi experience has been postponed, due to a sore throat that made me unable to speak without sounding like a chain-smoker. (Yeah, I know…I can’t seem to stay healthy.) But at least this break gives me the chance to post some pictures and write about my experiences over the past week. I am currently in Nelson on the South Island. I didn’t intend to travel this fast, but I met some really fun people and decided to keep on keepin’ on with them.

I was the only American on a bus full of Irish and English people. The first two days were full of me being chided for not only being American, but being from Texas, right in the center if Dubya country. Finally I worked my way up from being “You F—ing American” to “Texas” and then “Miss America”. (I don’t think they really got the beauty pageant connotation that went with that one, but it was by far my favorite nickname.)

It was an eye-opening experience, being the only one not from the UK out of a group of seventeen people. I think I managed to change a few opinions and negate a few stereotypes about Americans. At least, I hope I did. They all tried to do their best Texas accents, which was hilarious. “Yee-haw, Texas!” It was even better when they tried to sing rap songs. A woman from Yorkshire yelled to me one night “Hey America! Want to hear me sing ‘Gangsta’s Paradise?!”. It was everything I’d dreamed of and more. But it really doesn’t get any better than the Welsh guy trying to rap to “Ridin’ Dirty”.

I’ve seen some beautiful things over the past week. The tour was so fast paced, it’s hard to keep everything in the right order and not forget.
Auckland to Rotorua (hot springs, Maori dinner)
Rotorua to Waitomo (glow worm caves)
Waitomo to Taupo (Lake Taupo, Waterfall, mini golf!)
Taupo to River Valley (beautiful river, swing, awesome dinner, volleyball and bruises)
River Valley to Wellington (staying up all night in Wellington and walking the streets at 4am)
Wellington to Nelson (sleeping on the ferry, finding out what Yorkshire Pudding is)

This message brought to you by your local spelunking committee.

2008-09-10T22:38:00.000-07:00

Dear Internet,

A lot has happened since we last spoke. I travelled from Paihia to Auckland, went to a dance party in the Auckland Town Hall, and then got on another bus. I've realized that I really enjoy being on the road. I love listening to my iPod and watching the scenery pass by. I also love the fact that I'm not in charge when I'm on a bus.

From Auckland, we went to the Coromandel Peninsula. We stopped at a lovely place called Cathedral Cove, where the ocean has carved out a natural cave in the rocky beach. (I promise to post pictures as soon as I have an Internet connection with substantial speed.) We spent the night in a town that I'm not going to even attempt spelling because I would butcher the name. I was planning on staying a few nights in said town, but after I got off the bus I realized that there wasn't much to do in the cooler months. So I got on the bus the next morning and headed to Rotorua, where I am currently. On the way here we stopped at an abandoned gold mine and, most important, Hobbiton. Oh yes. Although I didn't get a chance to go on the Hobbiton tour and see the little green hills that Bilbo Baggins and Frodo called home. But! I did get a picture of in front of the sign and statue of Gollum.

Last night I went to a Maori village where they danced the Haka war dance for us and then fed us a traditional hangi meal, which is all cooked in a pit in the ground with manuka branches. It was lovely. For dessert there was pavlova. I had seconds.

Tomorrow I head down to Waitomo, where I will see glowworms in a cave. I don't know why the idea of glowworms excites me so much, but it does. Maybe it's because I had a singing glow worm when I was little? I don't know. Also: caves! Who doesn't love a good, old-fashioned cave? Terrorists, that's who.

Fight terrorism. Support your local caves.

This message brought to you by your local spelunking committee.

No stop 'til Antartica.

2008-09-04T22:05:00.000-07:00

Well, it's almost been a month and I've fallen down more than I thought possible, even for someone with my shitty luck.
(Well, I'm here, so my luck can't be that bad...) My goals for this month are staying healthy, having more fun, meeting more people and finding a city that I'd like to work in.

These first few weeks have felt like the longest weeks I've ever lived. Not to be overly dramatic, but damn. I'm over here in this strange and beautiful place trying to find my way the best that I can. It's hard not to over-analyze everything when I have so many moments of quiet reflection to myself. To be honest, I'd like a few less moments of quiet reflection. I'd like to be busy working or meeting new people so that I don't have time to reminisce about Glass Night Tuesdays at Lou's.

I'm heading to Auckland tomorrow to stay for a couple days with my German friend, Sophie. Then I'll head down to the Coromandel Peninsula and then Rotorua. I'll slowly make my way south and eventually on to Wellington. No stop 'til Antartica, baby. Just kidding, I don't think I packed enough sweaters...

I hiked ten miles and all I got is this weird blister...

2008-09-03T17:23:00.000-07:00

I haven't done much lately, which is why I haven't blogged in a few days. I didn't think most people (besides my mom) would be interested in my thoughts on what I had for lunch or the strange mix of American and British reality-shows that is New Zealand television.

Yesterday I did something that was actually borderline productive: I hiked to Haruru Falls. It's a miniature horseshoe waterfall about 15k away from Paihia. I really need to get this whole metric conversion thing down so I know what I'm getting myself into ahead of time. The hike took me about five hours in total. My groin started hurting as soon as I reached the beginning of the trail. I thought maybe it just needed to be stretched out a little more. "Nothing a good hike can't fix!"

My hopes were dashed as soon as I reached the 1k marker and realized that it'd taken me 30 minutes to get that far. I felt like I'd already invested quite a good amount of time and energy, so I was going to see that damn waterfall even if it meant not being able to walk the next day. I increased my speed and hauled a considerable amount of ass to make it to the waterfall, took enough pictures to prove that I actually made it there, and then hauled ass back home.

I did a lot of thinking on the trail. Hiking a trail can be a metaphor for any sort of journey. At the beginning you're optimistic, hopeful. Towards the middle you're in pain and wondering if this was such a good idea, playing with the idea of turning back. Then when you finally reach your destination, you feel accomplished and proud, only to have to turn back and make the whole journey again.
Yeah, I can be deep sometimes.

I did feel accomplished and proud of myself, until it started pouring down rain. Then all I really wanted to do was stick out my thumb and catch a ride back to my motel. Don't worry, I didn't, but if I had a tazer I might have.

My wish-list for this week:

-tabasco sauce
-tazer
-corn tortillas
-my green chuck taylors

Russell

2008-08-28T00:15:00.000-07:00

Today I hopped on the ferry to Russell. I found it hard to believe that this quaint little town full of white-picket fences was once known as "The Hell Hole of the Pacific". It was one of the first ports in New Zealand, back before there was a New Zealand, when lawlessness and pirates prevailed.

I started my day with, what else? Lunch! At the suggestion of some girls from my hostel, I ate a a cute little cafe overlooking the water. They had gluten-free bread, so I ordered a chicken salad sandwich. Apparently chicken salad doesn't mean the same thing here as it does in Texas. (Come to think of it, that goes for everything here.) The waitress looked at me like I was insane when I said I wanted my chicken salad on toasted bread. When my leafy greens and ripe tomatoes with red onion and chicken arrived, I understood. It wasn't the mayo-slathered chicken salad I was expecting. It was a salad, with chicken.
You can tell my day was action-packed when I regale you with a story about chicken salad.

I compulsively took photos for the rest of the afternoon and visited the Pompallier Mission. It was the first Roman Catholic Mission in New Zealand, so the Protestants were understandably pissed. I was interested in visiting it because it was founded by the Marianists, the same fools that founded my high school. The mission was responsible for printing the first copies of the Roman Catholic Bible in Maori. The whole interior of the mission is set up with printing presses and book-making accoutrements, as well as leather-making materials. All of the flooring and much of the ceiling beams were made from ancient kauri wood. (The same type of tree as Tane Mahuta.)

The mission was surrounded by tropical flora and fauna, framing a manicured lawn overlooking the sea. I found myself wondering, 'Maybe celibacy wouldn't be so bad if you had this as a view...'
Apparently the brothers made up for their lack of sex with drinking, as shown by the various liquor bottles found at the site in later years.

After I visited the mission, I drank some lemonade. The end.

Now it's on.

2008-08-25T14:04:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a beautiful day in Paihia. I went to the grocery, bought some hummus for lunch and sat down to eat it on a park bench with the ocean across the street as my view. I had flip-flops on because it was actually a warm day.

About ten minutes into my lunch I felt that familiar sting followed by a nauseating itch.

It couldn't be.

Oh yes. It was.

I decided to not panic. I walked back towards my hostel and bought a cadbury bar on the way.

When I walked out of the store I realized that it was getting harder to bend my fingers, so I went back to my room and took two benadryl, hoping that maybe New Zealand fire ants were kinder and gentler than Texas ones. I stood in front of the mirror trying to decide whether my throat was swelling or not. All I really wanted to do was lay down and finish reading a book about the circus. Then my better judgement got to me and I came to the conclusion that I didn't really want to be found dead at 22 in a bunk-bed in New Zealand...so I got out my epi-pen.

I pulled my jeans down and tried not to collapse into a fit of hysteria. I had to keep my focus so I could jab it into the correct part of my thigh with the right amount of pressure. It only took two tries. It was actually easier than I thought it would be, and strangely didn't hurt at all. I was suprised when I removed it and realized how long the needle was.

Then I walked downstairs and pressed the button to call the receptionist. I pressed it maybe fifteen times. She was a little pissed when she came in and said, "You only have to press the button once."

"I just injected myself with my epi-pen and I need to see a doctor."

"Oh, Ohmygod, OK. Let me call you an ambulance. Sit down."

Come to find out, she used to work for Emergency Services in England. She was very kind and stroked my back to keep my from panicking while I held onto the chair for dear life as the adrenalin started to kick in.

Eventually the ambulance arrived and they took my pulse, which was beating like a mad woman's. This made them decide to take me down the street to the nearest doctor's office.

The doctor kept me for two hours and took my blood pressure and pulse every ten minutes. They tried to get me an epi-pen, but turns out there isn't an epi-pen in the whole country right now! Yay! So now I have two syringes and 2CCs of adrenalin that I get to shoot myself up with, should this happen again. (If it does, I'm just going to buy myself a bubble to live in.)

A nurse from Minnesota looked after me and took me back to my hostel when the office closed. I don't know her name. She listens to "A Prarie Home Companion" to keep from getting homesick.

Now I'm not sure what to do. I feel like I've been chewed up and spat out. It's like every force in the universe is trying to send me home. My body is revolting against me.

Good thing I'm stubborn and all of this makes me want to throw my middle finger in the air and say "Suck it, New Zealand!"

I will succeed here. Oh yes. I will.

Now it's on.

i don't know what day this is...

2008-08-22T20:12:00.000-07:00

This will have to be a quick and dirty post, since I'm sitting in a McDonalds using the wi-fi.
WWOOF-ing is pretty much the coolest thing ever. I'm staying with a couple that has an olive grove overlooking the Hokiangi Harbor. The woman used to do weaving and the man is a retired farmer. Dorothy is a wonderful cook and has been making me gluten-free breads and cookies. (I think they're trying to fatten me up, and it's working...)

Their little cottage is wonderful. It's covered in vines and plants. There's citrus trees, bananas, and pretty much every flowering plant you can imagine. I'm obsessed with the lavender bushes and keep having to clean out my pockets because I can't seem to pass a bush without stuffing a bunch in my jacket. They have these white fluffy chickens that I feed every morning and white fluffy sheep that "BAA" all afternoon.

I've been riding their horses when it's not raining too hard. It's my first time to ride English saddle, so my ass is pretty sore. I almost fell off this morning when Umeri decided to take off without my permission. It was strange not having a saddle-horn to grab onto in case of emergency. But I managed to keep myself on and gain control over the horse. I also managed to do some leather-working this morning to repair an old rain cover for their horse.

I just purchased a pair of Wellingtons, or gum-boots, or rubber boots. It rains so much here, it's really the only way to walk around... Now I'm about to go to some natural hot springs and soak for a little while. Apparently they smell like sulfur and they keep warning me that I'll smell afterwards. I guess I come off as more concerned with hygiene than I really am...

I feel a lot better. I think those roids are working.

Peace out!

day 11 (opo the gay dolphin)

2008-08-17T13:15:00.000-07:00

I forgot to tell you about Opo the Gay Dolphin. This is either because I forgot, or I'm lazy, or both.
I've been trying to find the wonderful video we watched about her when we stopped in Opononi, but it's not on YouTube, so just read this in a British accent and think of grainy, black and white video with a soundtrack of cheesy 1950s music in the background.

"Opo, a young female bottlenose dolphin, enchanted the residents of the Northland seaside town of Opononi for 10 months, from June 1955 to March 1956. First noticed in Hokianga Harbour by farmer and boat owner Piwai Toi, Opo cautiously began to approach the beach near the Opononi wharf in spring and early summer to make contact with locals.
Once the first newspaper articles and photos appeared in December 1955, Opononi became a magnet for holidaymakers wanting to see her. Hordes travelled by car or bus along dusty, unsealed roads to stay in the camping ground or the hotel, both of which quickly became booked out.
Opo enjoyed being with children most, juggling beach balls or beer bottles on her snout, but she had her favourites among the adults as well. Some of the treatment she received was less welcome – jabs with oars and fights for her attention. Concerned about her fate, locals formed the Opononi Gay Dolphin Protection Committee and called on the government to protect her. As a result, at midnight on 8 March 1956 an order in council came into effect, making it an offence, carrying a £50 fine, to take or molest any dolphin in Hokianga Harbour.
The next day Opo was found dead, jammed in a crevice between rocks. Mystery surrounds her death, as it did Pelorus Jack’s. Some people suggested she had become stranded while fishing, others that she had been killed by fishermen using gelignite, and even more fancifully, that she had committed suicide because she lacked a mate.
The saddened community buried Opo in front of the beach where she had entertained so many. Messages of sympathy poured into Opononi from people around the country, including the governor general. The sculptor Russell Clark produced a statue in her memory." [Te Ara: The Encyclopedia of New Zealand]

We arrived at the library around 9am and had to wait for a tiny little old lady to come a turn on the video, she swore that she wasn't late, we were just early.

day 10

2008-08-16T17:25:00.000-07:00

This weird thing keeps happening where go to sleep and I wake up in New Zealand.

Thank you for all your positive thoughts and good ju-ju, it worked. I'm feeling much better today and I think I'll be near 100% tomorrow. I moved back to the place I was staying my first two nights in Auckland. It's much more conducive to being sick since it has an electric tea pot and a private bathroom. It's also very clean.

Yesterday I found K-Road. It has a lot of really good ethnic restaurants and grocery stores. I got some herbs from and ancient Chinese lady and ate some Indian food, that I'm pretty sure was blessed since they were waving nag-champa around the front door while I was eating. Or maybe they just thought I smelled.

K-Road also has several second-hand shops where everything in the store is $20 or under! I'd like to make some room in my backpack for a new scarf and sweater. I think I've lost some weight because my jeans keep falling down when I'm walking. So I guess I need to either invest in a belt or eat more Indian food.

I think I've found a WWOOF place to work in Northland. I would be exercising horses and gardening in exchange for room and board. My room would be either in a bunk in their house or a trailer, which they refer to as a caravan. I think that term sounds much more fun. Living in a trailer in the mountains and riding horses all day and eating home-cooked organic meals at night sounds like a pretty good deal. So, this Wednesday, health permitting, I'll take a bus to Paihia and get picked up by Dorothy to begin my adventure. My plan is to buy guitar before then so I can jam out in my trailer.

Oh, yeah I'll be livin' the life.
L-I-V-I-N.

day 08-09?

2008-08-15T13:09:00.000-07:00

What day is it? Oh, Saturday.
I've been sitting here for the past day feeling like two tons of crap. The Irish girls I was crammed in a room with the first night gave me an upper respiratory infection. I've started taking antibiotics, but I'm still not feeling any better. Now I'm waiting for the pharmacy to open so I can buy a neti-pot and some more magic honey.

Oh wait, I'm not allowed to say anything negative because I'm in New Zealand and everything is perfect. Sorry!

I'm having the time of my life! The top bunk is my favorite! I love that the shower only lasts for five seconds before you have to push a button to turn the faucet on again! I love the disgusting restrooms! I love not knowing whether I'm going to be well tomorrow or not! Life is nothing less than grand.

Seriously, I am the luckiest person ever to get to do this, but that doesn't mean that I don't have a mental meltdown every once in a while. Besides, this is my blog and I'm trying to stay honest for the sake of historical reference.

So, on Saturday, August 16, at 8:15 am, Ashleigh Almond felt like shit and was scared and worried and trying to do all the things you're supposed to do when you're sick:
-drinking lots of water
-taking antibiotics
-eating yogurt
-resting
-gargling with some weird iodine crap

And now for some nostalgia:

My Crunk Birthday

Denton Gothic

Jazz Fest

day 07

2008-08-13T20:43:00.000-07:00

i am exhausted.
i got on a bus headed for auckland at 7:45am today.
we stopped at tane mahuta again and i actually got some photos this time.
the bus driver drove through the mountains like a bat out of hell and i had to lay down and close my eyes the entire time to keep from puking. she also insisted on listening to mariah carey the entire time.
other than that, i met two very friendly cats and a black lab at a cafe we stopped at along the way.
tonight i am supposed to hang out with some germans. das gud!

day 06

2008-08-12T23:47:00.000-07:00

well, i've finally got my internal clock on kiwi time, but that means it's harder to communicate with you fine people back home, which sucks. also, for some reason i'm not able to send/receive text messages. so, i guess i still need to sort out this communication thing. internet is outrageously expensive: $6/hour.

ok, so... today.

today i slept in, which was much needed after spending the last couple days on a bus with a time schedule. then i ate some yogurt and a pear on the beach and walked to the town to buy a long black. after my caffeine-fix, i took a couple bikes with my german friend, sophie, the rocky part of the coast where i ate green-lipped mussels and hummus. (this probably sounds like a horrible combination, but i promise it was the tastiest, cheapest meal i've eaten so far)

we then rode up to the waitangi treaty grounds. this was where the brits signed a treaty saying they'd respect the maoris and their culture, but i think we all know how that worked out...given the track record of the english. the treaty grounds were beautiful, and if i can get this shitty wireless connection to work, then i'll upload them to flickr. there was a forest of ferns and kauri trees that met a rolling green lawn that spread to the beach. it's basically every beautiful natural thing that you'd want to see (mountains, sea, trees, green grass, rocky beach, sandy beach) all rolled into one little paradise.
there were even bunnies; one big black one and three small cottontails. they have gluten-free products in the grocery store, a large selection like it's no big deal. and all the products display their ingredients so i don't have to guess if i'm going to get poisoned or not.

i did fall off my bike today and scraped my knee up pretty nicely. my klutzy track-record is starting to worry me. at this rate i'm going to poke my eye out by next tuesday.

day 04-05

2008-08-11T23:39:00.000-07:00

I've been so busy seeing the sites here that I haven't had the chance to write!

Yesterday I took a bus from Auckland to Paihia, otherwise known as the Bay of Islands. The drive was through mountains covered in sheep and lambs. I was sure that those views couldn't be beat, but NZ just keeps topping itself.

When I arrived in Paihia, I decided to take a ferry out to "the hole in the rock", which is exactly what it sounds like...a giant hole through a giant rock in the middle of the sea. Along the way we passed several..islands...in the bay. A few were just islands that incredibly lucky/rich/awesome people live on and rely on the ferry to get their mail.

Today I woke up at 6am to catch a 7am bus to Cape Rainga, which is exactly the top of New Zealand. The drive was spectacular and we had a crazy Maori bus driver that sang to us and revealed way too much information about his personal life to a group of strange tourists. Luckily I had my ipod with me so I could tune out the crazy and enjoy some "sweet as" (my new NZ phrase!) tunes while looking at views that caused my mouth to be open all day long.

I got to drive down 90 Mile Beach, which isn't 90 miles long at all. We saw a seal and I collected quite a few shells. Then, unbeknownst to me, we went boarding down HUGE sand dunes. I didn't know that I needed to bring a change of clothes and ended up being the only person on the whole bus to end up landing in the huge stream at the bottom of the dunes. I was soaked. One lady lent me her towel, so I visited the rest of the sites looking like a crazy bum with hiking boots and a multi-colored beach towel around my waist.

Cape Rainga was our next stop. It's the northernmost point of New Zealand and has a view of the Pacific and Tazman Sea intersecting. I really wanted to spend more than an hour there, but alas I had to get back on the Magic Bus (that's really what the bus line is called). Unfortunately my camera battery died right after I took my first picture of the Cape. Luckily, my new German bus-friend, Sophie, took some pictures of me in my towel at the end of the world.

After this, we went to a forest to see Tane Mahuta, the world's largest living Kauri tree. It was basically a rainforest in the middle of some mountains. It was also spectacular and even if my battery hadn't died, no pictures could do it justice. Also, I've had the song "Tane Mahuta" by the Ruby Suns in my head for about four months. I had no idea what it meant until two days ago when I found out it was included in my tour.

I'm surprised everyday I'm here that so much beauty can be contained in such a small space. There's a big, big world out there and I'm just a little speck, but that's OK. I'm content that I even get to see it.

Champion!

(another new kiwi phrase I've learned.)

day 03

2008-08-10T00:05:00.000-07:00

I got lost today and ended up finding the New Zealand I've been looking for. My feet are sore, my whole body aches, and I haven't felt better in weeks.

On a whim, I decided to take advantage of this rare sunny day and hop on the ferry to Waiheke Island. It's an artists' colony about 20 minutes away from Auckland by ferry. I think it's the closest thing I've seen to paradise. Beautiful green hillsides sloping down into cerulean blue water. Little bungalows with flowering plants growing in front. Views that take the breath out of you.

I would be satisfied sitting in a rocking chair on a porch there until I'm 85, even if I only had chickens and stray cats to keep me company.

day 02

2008-08-09T01:49:00.000-07:00

Today I spent $30 on a jar of honey.

It was a long day.

I took the Auckland Explorer Bus Tour, where I saw the BIG 10 attractions of Auckland.

1. Ferry Building

2. Bastion Point Lookout (Mission Bay Beach)

3. Kelly Tarlton's Antartic Encounter and Underwater World

4. Rose Park Gardens (no roses, since it's winter)

5. Holy Trinity Cathedral

6. Auckland Museum

7. Parnell Villiage

8. Civic Theatre (Queen Street)

9. Victoria Park Market

10. Sky Tower

America's Cup Viaduct Harbor (drive through, no stop)

I met a nice Austrian lady on the bus, that works for RedBull, and we hung out all day. It was interesting to see new sights with someone with a totally different frame of reference than myself. She had never been to the states or NZ.

Seeing Bastion Point/Mission Bay Beach and looking out across the water, I finally felt like "Hey! I'm in New Zealand and it's really pretty! Maybe this wasn't such a dumb decision after all..."

After this, I visited Kelly Tarlton's, where I found that penguins can be really big, probably twice the size of my cat. I also realized that NZ stingrays are the size of small children and are related to sharks. I got to see replicas of Captain Scott's cabin from his Antartic expedition. It didn't look like much fun. They ended up eating the horses they brought and many men died of scurvy. They did have a nice piano and many tins of potted meat, which is totally my favorite of all potted things.

My next stop, the Auckland Museum, was a strange place. Since most NZ history is relatively new, the first two floors looked like an antique junk shop with lots of costumes, furniture and ceramics. The next floor was filled with Maori tribal artifacts and a recreation of a tribal house. Adjacent to the museum were two greenhouses and a fern forest. These were, by far, my favorite sights of the day. I could spend hours in the fern forest if it hadn't been so cold and I didn't have a bus to catch.

Tomorrow I plan on getting a PO box, figuring out why my phone won't work, and visiting Mt. Eden. Also on my list is maintaining my sanity and not getting sick from the sore throat I have at the moment. This $30 manuka honey better make me well, or I am going to be pissed.

day 01

2008-08-07T23:11:00.000-07:00

Oh holy shit...what have I done?

This was the main thought going through my head today as I walked around the city. I tried to see as much Auckland as possible on foot. I didn't want to try and navigate the bus system in my depleted mental state.

I guess it didn't really hit me until I found out that my cell phone won't work here. I am alone... in a foreign country. Granted, it's very westernized and everyone speaks English, but they also put beet relish on their hamburgers, and if that's not foreign, then I don't know what is.

Today was a good day though. The weather was nice. I think the high was around 60F. I started out on foot with no real direction, so I just followed a group of people that looked like they knew where they were going. And what do you know? I ended up at Rotoara Square. There was a mini-market with wool sweaters and scarves and various food stalls. I ordered a "full metal jacket" which is Kiwi for a baked potato. I also had the best chai tea I've ever tasted. It had actual pieces of ginger floating in it.

Then I kept walking and ended up on Queen Street, which is the main shopping district in Auckland. There were so many shops that I felt overwhelmed and didn't go into any for a while. I did stop into a health food store and bought some vitamins and deodorant. I really didn't want my first impression to the kiwi's to be one of a smelly, malnourished Texan.

Somehow I ended up at the Auckland Art Gallery, and though I hate to admit it, it sucked. One "piece" was a pile of trash to signify our negative impact on our environment. Can't we just look out the window and see that? I know I sound like someone's grandpa by saying this, but I really wanted to see pretty, not a pile of plastic buckets.

Fortunately, right down the street from the art gallery was Albert Park. I was fascinated by the giant roots of the trees there, as you can see by the five billion pictures I took of them. I walked around the park for a bit and attempted to journal on a bench there, until I realized some dude blatantly staring at me, so I got up and walked to the other side of the park where I sat next to a nice older couple. Then said dude ended up on a bench beside me, so I decided that it was coffee time!

I took my dad's advice and ordered a "tall black". It wasn't tall, but it was definitely black. I asked for cream and sugar and was given a bowl of whipped cream, which I think was better than just regular half n' half.

Then I moseyed on back to Queen Street and had dinner at Burger Fuel! BURGER FUEL!!!

For some reason this name sounds like a war-cry to me.

"YOU CAN TAKE AWAY OUR LAND, BUT YOU CAN NEVER TAKE OUR BURGERS!!!!"

The reason I chose this fine establishment is they offer gluten-free buns. Oh, hell yes. I had a burger and fries for dinner and I have never felt less guilty about eating fast-food. Not only did I eat greasy sweet potato-fries, but I did all of this while reading a gossip magazine. (Hey, I needed to make sure Amy Winehouse didn't die during my 13 hour flight.)

And now I'm so jet-lagged and culture-shocked and mentally drained that I'm going to lay down and read a book that has nothing at all to do with New Zealand.

expectations

2008-07-25T12:38:00.000-07:00

Hello! And welcome to my blog.

From now on, I will be writing from here. or there. or everywhere.

When people would ask about my plans after graduation and hear that I'm going to New Zealand completely on my own and without a plan, they would either tell me they're envious or that they can't believe a young woman would go to the other side of the world without knowing someone over there first. To which I would reply, 'I don't know anyone yet, but I will.'

Over the past few weeks my confidence has been shaken and rebuilt, but I still know that everything is going to work out OK in the end. And if it doesn't work out OK, then it's not the end.

After I decided that I wanted to make this trip, I also decided that I'd make as few plans as possible. This is partly because it's not very feasible to make plans on the other side of the world, and partly because I want this trip to be about chance and fate and all that other hippy, new age, letting the universe work it out for you, bullshit. I've seen so many people make plans for the things they think they want, only to find out what they really want isn't what they planned at all. This is my mantra: Since I have no idea what I want, then I will plan as little as possible and find what I want along the way.

However, there are a few things I'd like to accomplish while I'm on my great adventure, and I will now present those things to you in a bulleted list format:

- Independence.

- Health.

- Knowledge.

- Friendship.

- Writing.

- Photography.

My hope is that most of these things will evolve naturally. I'll see things that inspire me to write and take photos. I'll see things that look so fresh that I want to eat them. I'll meet people when I find a job or sitting in a coffee-shop in the afternoon.

So, I guess I really do have more of a plan than I let on. It's more of a line drawing in pencil and I have a big eraser in my back pocket. I reserve the right to edit and revise my thinly-laid plans at any time. Therein lies the excitement.