Jenny's Trek Down Under

Cape TribulationZZZzzzzzz....

2007-08-04T07:46:58Z

How do you adequately describe the sensation of standing on a deserted beach lined with coral, white sands and the lush vegetation of the rainforests surrounding. Spent a morning giving into the laziness of a sunny day that seems to have drained all of my energy and left me on the verge of continual collapse. A morning spent walking to Cow Bay gently falling into the bosom of the rainforest in a bed of mother nature, off the beaten path, vines securing me in their embrace. Dozing in and out of consciousness with the primal sounds of nature abounding--the mating calls of exotic birds, the scuffling of leaves and twigs under the weight of birds, wild pigs and human size rats--the state of being where I feel if I rise too fast I will black out, my mind operating at a foreign pace of snail like speed--every sound taking what feels like an eternity to register, but for the most part my mind remains blank. Barely mustering the strength to break this lazy sleep I walk back to the beach and make my way to two smaller beaches--again deserted. Climbing over a few boulders here and there. The sky still cloudy, but the heat of the sun starting to break through. the calming lull of the water crashing, crashing gently, almost crawling ashore the sandy beach. I find a rock that seems to have been carved just to fit the natural curves of my body. I let my body curl up into the ridges of the rock, my mind again empty. I fall asleep and awake abruptly as a result of the intense heat beating down on my body. I make my way to the water, letting the waves crash against my legs as the water seems to pull both sand and rock from under my feet--yet I remain planted firm in my tracks. The sensation of being pulled in two directions feels oddly comfortable and relaxing especially with the water at that perfect temperature--not too hot not too cold.

Cape TribulationZZZzzzzzz.... remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Last Person on Earth still sporting a Livestrong Band...

2007-07-31T12:39:50Z

My 8 day outback experience began with a full on 4wd hardcore safari style jeep picking me up outside my hostel where I was greeted by the Bounty hunter himself...well that is if the bounty hunter was a 40 something brown hair mullet toting harley davidson obsessed motorcycle junkie name Sauce...yes sauce as in barbeque, tomato and the Ozzie favorite Sweet Chilli. Sauce had this way of talking to you where everything came out with some sort sort of sexual innuendo--like he could tell you about his mom dying of cancer yet make your skin crawl at the same time with his constant winking and bobbling of the head--very much the Quagmire of Family Guy...mixed with a bit of Matthew McCaunaughey's character in 'Dazed and Confused.' From the get go Sauce wouldn't tell us his real name and liked to live in the land of mystery--only revealing the occasional crazy past tour stories...that's when I started to realize it's not so much that he was secretive, but really the life of a tour guide is his tours...there is no distinction between his social life and his job--the hours are relentless with him averaging about 10 days off in 6 months. Anyways I'm too lazy to really describe my Oz experience of the last 11 days, but a quick recap as follows:
1. Driving in complete emptiness--we're talking red desert for hundreds of kilometers without seeing a single soul in sight, with no roads carving our path, being forced to forge our own way against the untamed forces of the great outback. Then out of nowhere happening upon random little pubs in small towns of about 8 imbred people that all want to be your best friend for the night.
2. Playing 8 ball into the wee hours of the night, kicking back a few Pure Blondes and paying our civic duty to the local pub by leaving behind IDs, clothing items or shoes to hang on the wall.
3. Sleeping in swags which are basically like freezer bags that you zip your sleeping bags in...but imagine it being about 28/26 degrees farenheight...sleeping in a sleeping bag that has a hole in the foot of it...how you might ask? it's called sleeping in your car for 2 months and kicking the pedals in your sleep...so yeah a sleeping bag with a hole in a swag...creates many a sleepless nights...but when I tell you the stars were unreal--there are just no words. Being able to sleep under the stars, falling asleep to shooting stars, full moons and the outline of mountains under the night sky...oh and the horrible snoring of numerous members of my group...well truely unforgettable.
4. The french couple who were utterly convinced that all Americans are in gangs...and so to be fair I played along--they even went so far to ask if I had to beat people up to gain entry into the gang...and that's when my story about fleeing the country for 6 months began to unravel...let's just say with the story I painted I'm basically the Godfather of the burbs.
5. Sleeping underground at Cooper Pedy and spending the afternoon noodling for opals in a big mine only to leave with many a shiny rock to add to my ever growing exciting NZ rock collection--no opals struck this time.
6. Climbing Ayres rock...okay so I know it's kind of sacreligious and I probably will have bad luck for the rest of my life...but it was a once and a lifetime opportunity and I don't regret my decision. Climbing up the face of the biggest monolith against a piercing blue sky, hot desert sun and a crazy Dutchie constantly trying to lead me off the side of the rock to my death below...and those damn ADD kids running up the rock nearly knocking me off time and time again.
7. Climbing Mt. Olsen in the Flinders Range an hour before the rest of my group...spending the early hours watching the sun come up 'meditating' on a rock...only to discover I had spent this reflective period sitting on a rock inscribed with the poetic words 'billy J and Kristin did it here'...no wonder it felt so spiritual...I'd even go as far as to describe it as biblical at that spot.
8. Being dared to jump into a 50meter deep pool of near glacial freezing water in all my clothes to swim to a a massive waterfall hidden behind the rocks--it was the kind of swim where your breath becomes shallow as you fight the plunging temperatures, but the feeling of standing against the rocks, underneath a powerful waterfall staring straight up into neverending rocky cliffs and blue skies...again memorable.
9. A crazy man named Talc Alf who lives literally in the middle of nowhere...with his nearest neighbor a good 250km away...spending an afternoon describing to us his theories on language and the universe...to be all honest I zoned out the minute he described the letter M as forming from women's breasts...because an M resembles a woman's chest...hence why 'm' is also the first letter of mother...yeah so he was a bit eccentric and looked like Kris Kringle meets the owner of Jurassic Park...the most exciting thing was the dingo that lurked on his property...oh and his insightful revelation that my name meant 'journey to a place to settle'...deep stuff no?
10. Roger...he is my favoritist old man to date...honestly I hate to admit it but he was like my little puppet...I said dance he said fox trot or waltz...I said make music and the man beat his hands across the bench...okay so yeah he was almost 70, but he was so quirky and honestly reminded me of the sunbaked woman from 'there's something about mary'...the man was on speed and could not read social situations at all...but alas he was wonderful.
11. Getting picked up by some random person in Alice Springs on their harley and spending the afternoon with the wind in my hair, the pedal to the metal and holding onto dear life as we navigated our way through the sunkissed baren landscape.
12. Crocodile Safari...between the crocodiles, buffalos, wild camels, kangaroos and wallabees...it felt straight out of Africa.
13. The regular questioning as to whether I in fact knew the legendary Elvis...being that I'm from Maryland...because of course Maryland sounds like Graceland...and by kevin bacon's six degrees of separation logic...well, Elvis and I are practically married.
14. Catching numerous breathtaking sunrises and sunsets
15. Regularly meeting the type of people that refuel your energy, charge it and bring out the best in you--the type fo people that make any type of chemical high pale in comparison the natural highs you experience in their presence
...these are just a few...emphasis on few memories of the last 11 days...10 more days and I'm home...so hard to believe...at 4am...so like 6 hours I fly to Cairnes...where I will make my way to the great barrier reef, do some diving, then head to the rainforests of cape tribulation, might do a quick sailing trip in the WhiteSundays then head to the blue mountains and finish off in Sydney before heading home....miss and love you all and glad to hear your home safe and sound mom and dad!

Last Person on Earth still sporting a Livestrong Band... remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Kangaroo Island

2007-07-27T05:12:40Z

After a two day tour of Kangaroo Island I had gotten to the point where seeing a kangaroo was just as exciting as finding a starbucks in a busy town centre--jaded... maybe just a bit--the same goes for seals. My tour guide was a really friendly 40 something year old, sun bleached she-man (difficult to tell at times...whether girl/guy) beer gut sporting Kangaroo Island native. All I can really say is Alcoholics Anonymous--her first words as she greeted us were I'm still hungover and I work in a vineyard when I'm not giving tours. I think I learned more about local brewing practices and which pubs on the sparsely populated island had the cheapest drinks then I did about well, the bush and the mammals. But alas I had a good time and got on really well with her and the others--finding once again that humor is the best breaker of tension--and that people can be way too serious at times--so again as long as your willing to be a little fiesty, poke some fun at yourself and be in the moment--the others will follow--just like 'field of dreams.'

Kangaroo Island remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Part Mr. MaGoo bigger part Racist Pedophile

2007-07-27T05:02:36Z

There are no words to recount my first tour--except that it left a lasting impression on me--and for well, frankly anyone who comes into contact with my guide Bill. Bill, such a respectable normal name...who would have thought...wait who are we kidding the first thing I think of when I hear the name Bill is sex fiend--in this case again another Bill follows in the footsteps of our past president. I was greeted by an overly enthusiastic 65+ Mr. Magoo lookalike--claiming to be my tour guide for the day. Seeing as this was my first real tour I expected everyone to high five me as I made my way down the aisle of the bus, cheering me on and brimming with excitement over the amazing scenery we would see and the lifelong friendships that would form--okay so maybe I watch a bit too much Disney Channel because my bus was about 12 people 9 of which didn't speak a lick of English and the other 3 were so hungover that unless I was a pint of Tui I wasn't going to be making any real impression on them during those presunrise hours. So, alas I was forced to take the front seat of the bus...the one smack down right next to Bill.
The tour was two days and left from Melbourne, spent a night in the Grampians (a mountain range) and then the next day ended in Adelaide. The first day we made our way along the Great Ocean Road--which supposedly took 15 years of long days and shitty weather to construct. The road wraps around the coast offering up jaw dropping views of the coastline, endless blue waters and dazzling sandy beaches. Right off the bat I was impressed by the shear vastness of this country in comparison to New Zealand--it really feels like the supersized version--even the sky seems endless--peering up at the clouds you feel like you are looking straight into the heavens. The weather could not have been any more spot on--with a gentle breeze, sun filled skies and the bluest of the blues contrasting with the fiery orangeness of the rocks. We made our way along the scenic drive stopping at the 12 apostles ( a rock formation,) the london bridge ( another rock formation that at one time looked like the famous bridge--but due to one night of adulterous passion and a rock slide the bridge no longer exists in it's original format) we did a bush walk in the rainforest where we took a moment to listen to the silence of the land--the kind of silence that can seem almost frightening because you know if there wasn't that slight trickle of rainwater dancing on the forest canopy there would be absolutely no noise penetrating the forest.
Throughout the course of the ride our leader tried to make joke after joke, but they all seemed to fall on deaf ears--so after awhile like any normal person he began to tell me about all the crazy sexual things that have happened on his tour bus...let me just say I'm a very open person and thought I had heard just about everything--but dear lord where is the holy water when you need it--my ears are still ringing with the tales of sex on that bus. If that wasn't enough he painted a stereotypical image of the aboriginals as lazy, obes alcoholics that are constantly seeking free handouts from the government--apparently in the northern territory in Australia alcoholism is such a problem for the natives that they are banned from buying alcohol up there. And the final icing on the cake was his kind offer from the heart...heart my ass to try and help me sort out any problems I may have or may have had in the past--in other words he offered me free counseling because he said he had turned many peoples lives around--bringing a heroin addict from the streets to a job...a job at McDonalds mind you. Okay I am very much skimming the surface here...but let's just say skeevy old man.
The next day was spent watching kangaroos frolick along a golf course, trying to spot the drug induced sleeping koala in the eucalyptus trees, going on a night hike guided by torch to spot kangaroos, baby joeys and wallabees during their waking hours.
The drunk people did talk finally and the non-english speaking well...we made out just fine with hand signals--all and all the people were really friendly and I learned an even greater appreciation for my mom and the work it takes to make sure people are having a good time and keeping people entertained even if it means taking the piss out of yourself once...or maybe a couple million times.
...okay two more tours to recount...this might take awhile...stay tuned. currently I'm in Katherine and will be doing a boat cruise and hike in the gorges tomorrow then taking a greyhound that night to Darwin where I will leave the following morning for a 3 day tour of kakadu and litchfield national park.

Part Mr. MaGoo bigger part Racist Pedophile remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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fOZzie Bear...clever no? quick picture update

2007-07-16T11:41:55Z

fOZzie Bear...clever no? quick picture update remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Where have all the Nicole Richies gone??

2007-07-10T11:47:41Z

Walking the streets of Melbourne can sometimes feel like you're walking along the pages of Vogue...okay Vogue 6 months ago. Fashion here in the southern hemisphere is 6 months behind in terms of America and the rest of the world...wait who are we kidding America is the world...or at least that's what my 5 months traveling would have me to believe. So, behind the oversized sunglasses, leggings, umpire waisted shirts and flashy handbags lies a nation of girls subsisting on coffee, water and krispy creme doughnuts. Ozzie girls give new meaning to the American size zero...after spending months in New Zealand surrounded by healthy, active men and women it was a real culture shock coming here. Not only are the girls the size of my pinky finger, but the guys as well have seemed to bought into the whole coked out -heroine -kate moss- waif inspired look--frankly it's rather disturbing. Although America by no means is a role model when it comes to healthy body image, the thin or rather undernourished, underweight prepubescent boy bodies that crowd the city streets have become recognized as normal here...while girls that might be the American equivalent of a size 6 tug at their shirts and conceal their bodies in less than flattering sweaters to hide their apparent 'obesity.'
Another thing I can't help but notice is that Australia should be called 'land of the preggers' instead of the 'land down under' I mean seriously never in my life have I come across more beaming, fresh faced belly button poking out M.I.T's (moms in training.) But then again this shouldn't surprise me considering the shear amount of coupledom that seems to be bursting at every corner. It's funny how in tune you become to your surroundings and everything around you when you have spent the last 5 months or so traveling by yourself. I can honestly say that I have surpassed the level of 'people watcher' and moved to the elitist level of 'people observer' not to be confused with stalker thank you very much. The ordinary images of everyday life seem to stick in my mind in a way they never used to before--the sweet innocent little 6 year old asian girl dressed in hot pink from head to toe and high heels a few sizes too big being swept into the arms of a doting father who for that moment seems immune to the nagging reminders of a busy lunch hour restaurant business--for that moment it's just him and his daughter--these are the things, the banalities of life that in the past I would easily overlook, but now pass through my head, linger and bring a smile to my face.
It's hard to believe that in a month's time I will be back home in Annapolis. I mean how do you make the shift from 6 months of complete freedom, no real responsibilities and a sense of independence so few my age are ever really granted to school, deadlines, responsibilities and picking up snicker's poop in the backyard? Okay who are we kidding I never really picked up his poop, but rather strategically placed leaves in all the right places--and yes my parents were very appreciative of this discovery a few weeks in after I left. Although I'm preparing myself for what might be a rough transition there are some tools that I'm coming back with that I think will help me navigate life a bit easier.
1. An actual craving to be intellectually stimulated--crazy I know. Eventhough I have read more in these past 5 months then I have in my entire life (that is if you subtract all the US, Cosmo and People magazines) I have really craved using my brain. It's funny I don't think I would ever thought that my time abroad would cause this kind of response--but it has--and I'm actually excited to learn for the first time in well...ever. Although I'm coming back to a senior year where I will somehow tackle my whole major in one year...what once seemed daunting now seems kind of exciting--that is if I ever really find out what Development Sociology is...and keep your fingers crossed I actually like it.
2. A mastery of 'shooting the shit.' Traveling perfects your ability to talk with just about anyone on just about any topic regardless of language barrier. I mean there have been many a nights where I spent a good couple hours 'talking' to Japanese tourists through overt hand gestures and lots of pointing at maps and of course plenty of smiles. I have talked politics which I know just as much about as I do quantum mechanics...that has something to do with that 80s show 'quantum leap' no? I have talked about farming, the environment, life's deeper meaning like if you were stranded on a deserted island and could only bring one member of the 'full house' cast who would it be and why? like you even have to ask...the olsen twins...because well, the two of them put together just about equal one person...so it's like a 2 for 1 freebie!
3. Independence. So, I admit it I used to be one of those people who the idea of sitting alone in a restaurant or going to the movies by myself seemed to scream out social suicide. These last couple of months I have gradually made the transition from table for two cluttered in books, magazines, journals (basically anything and everything to make me look busy and occupied to the outside world) but seated one...to me, a table, a nice piping hot cup of joe and the ease and comfort of not giving a shit about what others might think as I linger, take in my surrounding and stalk...err I mean people watch.
So, these next couple of weeks will see me camping, coming face to face with koalas, kangaroos, the legendary ayres rock and hopefully and aboriginal or two. But before I forget another thing to take note of...the other day I was walking around some botanical garden and saw this mysterious creature peering straight at me while most of its body remained hidden by a thick branch. Now, growing up where squirrels and birds are common tree dwellers I was intrigued...who am I kidding I was pretty damn excited to discover what this mystery creature might be. I made my way closer to the tree, creeping along pretending I was in the wild safaris of africa stealthily keeping my camera out of view as I snapped picture after picture of this furry wide eyed 'taileypoe.' Excited about my discovery of some deformed koala or siamese twin wallabe I excitedly show the pictures to some hostelmates..waiting for the 'ohhs and ahhs' to ensue...okay so it took a while...in fact they looked at me with a look of bewilderment and then proceeded to ask why I took a picture of a possum considering I had just spent 5 months in New Zealand...what was so special about New Zealand's finest roadkill? Lesson learned....wait to share amazing life altering animal discoveries until I get back home with people who might just might accept my blurry pictures as proof that the Lochness monster does in fact exist!

Where have all the Nicole Richies gone?? remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Menudo sighting...

2007-07-06T01:02:14Z

I spent a couple days in Wellington and found myself wishing I had decided to crash there for longer instead of Christchurch. But alas life's too short for regrets--so I made the most of my time. Wellington is not only the capital of New Zealand it has stoplights. Okay this is a big deal after spending a couple months in the south island where what looked like a 'big town' on a map more often than not translated into a cafe and a loo if you were lucky--so you can only imagine my excitement to be in a town...with not just one loo or cafe but heaps and heaps--maybe thousands to choose from. I spent my days doing the obligatory touristy things like touring the historic sites, visiting parliament, aimless window shopping and checking out a couple of galleries. One afternoon while eating lunch in some city park I was greeted by about 10 prepubescent boys decked out in tracksuits with 'make some noise' emblazoned on the back of their hoodies. The boys did their best breakdancing to the likes of jay-z and oddly enough random clips from the theme song of 'inspector gadget'...but really it just reminded me of the kind of dancing that takes place at 6th grade dances...in other words plenty of side step shuffling, random offbeat clapping, the occasional pelvic thrust and plenty of fist pumping...what really struck me well was two things...one how badass can these boys really think they are wearing matching pink bandanas around their necks like cowboys and two why the hell was their a kid wearing a mask straight out of insane clown possee--I'm talking bloody white jason style type mask--either way I was amused.
The main 'cultural' attraction in Wellington is probably the te papa museum which is a 6 level interactive hub of history, art and countless ways to entertain the 8 and under crowd. Whatever it was the day I spent at the museum--I was not in learning mode, finding myself staring at pictures and walking closer to the prints then stepping back a ways...pretending like I was actually contemplating the bigger meaning behind a canvas with a black dot in the center--really I was just wondering how the hell are people enjoying this. Instead of learning about the history of the maoris I found myself spending most of my time in the children sections of the museum--you'll be proud of me to know I figured out who killed the crazy mad scientist and no it wasn't the transvestite looking environmentalist. Also I made many a kids wait in line as I spent a good amount of time perfecting my computer generated new zealand bird--getting to choose feet, wings, etc. Okay so maybe sophistication is not my middle name, but whatever your only 12...'cough' 22 once.
I arrived in Melbourne, Australia a couple days ago and could not have felt anymore like the country mouse coming to visit the city. Honestly, having to look both ways before crossing the street has just been unheard of these last couple of months--but apparently that's what city life calls for--so looking left and right it was. I'm definitely a Melbourne kind of girl--if I thought wellington was a cultural mecca of sorts...boy was I wrong Melbourne is a much bigger and better Wellington! The only downsides so far to this city are the constant rain, the fact that museums are not free and more importantly that I'm not a millionaire. I have definitely gotten a case of the 'I wants' walking the streets with so many shiny pretty looking thinga-mabobs screaming out to be bought...I mean everybody needs their very own ugg boots with painted images of koalas that actually make koala noises...okay I'm not that bad...tacky...but exciting...no? The Queen Victoria Market is like the farmer's lady market in Bethesda but a million times bigger and better...with stand after stand of fresh local fruit, veg, meat, cheese, bakeries and random chochkies of sorts--aka the boots. My first impressions of australia were that it felt much more familiar and like the United States then I was expecting--whether it was the streets lined with 7-11's, the ipod toting professional, the constant buzzing of cell phones...but really it was just the energy of life that felt like home more than anything else.
I had no idea how hard it would be to plan my trip in australia in my time allotted. Apparently unlike New Zealand objects in mirror are not closer than they appear...in fact cities that look like an hour drive away could easily be 24 hours away--crazy I know. So, trying to find the most economic way to see the country while at the same time not feeling too rushed proved challenging and ended with me spending a good 3 hours in the travel agent's office...but alas I walked away with the next 26 days planned...the last 10 or so I'm going to wing it as I make my way down the east coast to sydney. In the meantime I will be spending the majority of my days in the outback--which is much more my style. I'm excited for the weeks to come and to give control over to someone else for a bit and actually act like i'm on holiday--before I head back to the states and back into the real world...well, as real as living on a college campus can be.

Menudo sighting... remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Borat say what?

2007-06-29T03:27:23Z

So, I am finally emphasis on FINALLY leaving Christchurch and will spend this next week finishing up touring the south island and a bit of the north island before heading to the great land of OZ. After spending the last two months constantly on the move it has been nice having a leisurely week in Christchurch and actually unpacking my bag instead of living out of my trunk. It has also given me the chance to really see Christchurch...although honestly you could probably see/do everything this city has to offer in 2 days...so stretching it out to a little over a week has meant me indulging in the creature comforts of an occasional movie, home cooked meals and memorable talks with hostelitizens...a special breed of hostel stayers that take up longterm residency in the hostel, make no real effort to get to know the constant stream of tourists that come in and out, or there are the select few that see this constant flux of tourists as an excuse to get them drunk and go out every night. These hostelitizens also are your best bet to finding the cheapest places in town for internet, booze and food.
Now the hostel I have been staying at in christchurch has been an odd mix of 12 year old boy cross country teams and gassy 70 year old bright yellow long underwear wearing tourists--so on many a night it was the hostelitizens I was forced to seek solace in--that or watch prepubescent boys play monopoly...hostelitizens it was.
Now the three main hostelitizens are two women that may or may not be in a relationship...40 something americans...who seemmed to be constantly trying to be the demi moore's of the hostel..hitting on both the boy toys of the staff and the male travellers--these women I avoided. Then there was a canadian 27 year old guy who made the rare appearence during day hours but usually was at his peak around 5 am as he made his way home from the bars night after night.
One night in particular we got to talking and as we drunkenly in his case and tipsily in mine sipped wine and discussed the state of the world, the environment and America we did our best to offer up solutions...but alas like every other traveller I have encountered--the problems in the world seem too daunting to solve in one night, but the more acceptance and understanding we could offer one another the closer to world peace we seemed to get. I think one thing I wasn't expecting about my travels was how often I would get asked my views about America and what Bush has been doing--I'm the first to admit that I'm not the most informed person when it comes to the government...yet I can tell you all about the Nicole Richie pregnancy scandel...but I find myself wanting to be more informed even going to cnn.com and reading up on things. I like to think that for the handful of tourists I've encoutered I've helped to dispel the American stereotype of Bush loving, gun toting ethnocentricism...but who knows for sure. Anyways back to Mike the Canadian--throughout the course of our discussion he told me a story about his time spent travelling in Asia and one memorable I'd say life altering experience involving a 6 year old girl, poverty like you and I can't even begin to imagine--and the vulnerability and innocense of a child and how it can really put things into perspective--seeing this 27 year old electrician definitely a guy's guy oozing confidence fight back tears as he held out a note that this little girl had given him..humbled me, gave me goosebumps and just further proved to me that even those who seem the most ego driven crumble in the face of pure unadulterated human connections and emotions.
The days following were stressful as I tried to plan my Australia trip, wandered the city with a couple german girls and imparted my 'wisdom' from my travels in the south island. It's funny it seems in recent days I have encountered so many tourists just beginning their travels and as mine near an end I can see just how far I've come both in kilometers and on a more personal level.
Yesterday I took the bus to kaikora which is most known for it's snow covered mountains, beautiful blue waters, seal colonies and of course whales. On the bus I met an 18 year old German girl beginning her travels during her gap year before college. Although her english wasn't all that great and at times I wondered if she suffered from turrets as in the best Borat of accents she alternated between uttering 'a fuck' and 'shiiieeett,' but alas she seemed like good company. We spent the day walking along what we thought was the peninsula walkway only to realize we went the wrong direction and instead of taking in beautiful coastlines and raging waters we were met with cows, cow shit and my pants ripping as I tried to clear a barbed wire fence. We hitched a ride back into town and made plans to meet the next day.
That night I made it back to my hostel where I met some really great people and was sad to learn they were leaving the next day--but for that night the conversation flowed easily and stories of past explorations were traded.
The next morning I met up with the german girl and in the cold rain we made our way finally to the peninsula walk--it was interesting between her broken english and my painfully slooowww dumbed down english conversation we were able to have a pretty interesting discussion about germans, jews and world war II. We got the most intimate view of seals I have had thus far--coming within feet of them--as they tried to conceal themselves under branches from the rain, some seemed to be in comatose stupors as they pointed their noses to the sky and did what I like to call a classic case of the 'classroom narcolespy'. You know when you are sitting in a lecture trying to keep your eyes open yet after less than an hour of sleep the night before and a lecturer so painfully boring you find your head constantly bobbing as you nod in and out of conscience--all the while trying to mask this behind a textbook that so conveniently is upside down.
So, that brings us to the present...tomorrow I leave for picton where I will spend the night then the following morning, my birthday, take the ferry over to the north island, spend a couple days bumming around wellington, the capital, and then on the 4th head to melbourne. My planned route for australia is melbourne to adelaide to darwin to caines down to sydney--so doing this in 6 weeks is definitely going to leave me exhausted but I feel will be more than worth it.
I love and miss you all--have a wonderful weekend--and see you all in 6 weeks! yikes so soon!

Borat say what? remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Deep Thoughts with Jack Handy...err I mean Jenny

2007-06-24T03:18:04Z

Seeing as how I'm nearly 22 and by myself half way across the world I think it is the perfect opportunity to reflect on some of the things I have learned in these past 5 months...so without further ado...life's lessons on the road with yours truely...Jenny:
1. It takes your whole world being turned upside down to really find out what matters to you. I came to New Zealand with the intent to save the environment what I was left with was a couple of months spent mowing someone's lawn and an abstract almost artistic arrangement of bruises painted across my body--from the hard labor you ask? nope, more like the countless times I tripped in my wellies or fell on my bum attempting to jump off a cliff into the swimming hole.
With my program cut three months short I found myself scrambling to try and figure out what to do next--as much as I like spontaneity, when you've spent the last 2 months working 8 hour days with total structure it can be hard to enter a world of unstructured freedom. So, I did what any self respecting 21 year old would do I called my parents. Over the next couple of months I tossed aside my dreams of being the Rachel Carson of my generation and instead did my part in contributing to global warming by keeping the petrol flowing. I learned a lot about myself during that road trip across the south island. I learned that early on being cast into the role of nature girl dictated a lot of my future decisions including majors, summer internships, etc. but what I didn't realize at the time was saving the environment wasn't what got me fired up, rather it was something I respected but could never truly imagine myself doing...the idea of being tied to some oil derrick in chains chanting for the the end of oil exploration and drilling in the antartic--it just wasn't me. Heck I sometimes leave the light on when I leave a room...so me being an environmentalist just seemed out of the question. Life lesson one: be open to change.
2. I have always been a thinker--something my mom and dad could never really relate to. I find it amazing that at times my dad can just stare off into space and literally let his mind go blank whereas my mom somehow lacked the cerebral axon for thought...instead of inner dialogue she constantly engages in a 'thought pattern' she likes to call the running of the mouth. Whereas my head is constantly a chatter--I find it hard to really be in the moment at times because I am constantly visually assessing my surroundings, taking in the sounds, making assesments, reviewing my life...thoughts just like my life never seem to stand still they are constantly playing and replaying in my head--to nauseum at times. So, you can just imagine how fun the prospect of traveling by myself for months on end would seem. But the more time I spent on the trail, sitting on beaches, exploring museums, getting lost in a good book or journaling away in some cafe the quieter the voices got--for the first time I was channeling all of my energy into positive outlets. Life became less about trying to make sense of everything that has ever happened to me and all the decisions for good or bad made in my life and more about moving forward. I used to think that I couldn't really move forward in my life until I had discovered the cure for cancer, cured world hunger and designed for new york's fashion week...funny thing is I never really understood until now...none of that stuff can happen without paying your dues and the groundwork being paved and that as long as I kept waiting for things to happen life would continue to pass me by.
3. Life lesson 3: nothing and I mean nothing is as good as connecting to others. I used to think the 5 minute conversations you had with strangers or the 5 hour long talks you had with a friend arguing over the impact of 'saved by the bell' on our generation is what fostered closeness...boy was I wrong. These last few months I have taken a good hard and at times painful look at myself and realized connections are built upon 'I' statements and joined together by understanding. The more one can level and be real even utter the hated psych 101 'i feel' statements the less guesswork that needs to be done in learning about one another. During this experience I have had some of my highest highs and my lowest lows, but somewhere along the way I stumbled upon myself. Maybe spending months on end completely out of your comfort zone can do that to someone, who knows...regardless I learned and continue to learn that what defines me is how I think and feel not the clothes I wear, the job I aspire to have or the people I know. It's that damn inner beauty everyone is always talking about--it's those people who you pass on the street you might not even utter one word to, but there is something about them that makes you smile, makes you want to be around them--they beam a type of goodness and comfort in their own skin--something we all want yet continue to fall into that trap that material possessions and superficial lifestyles will bring us closer to--never has and never will. Lesson three: inner beauty is where it's at.
...well, that's it for now too beautiful of a day to be kept inside..for all of you or rather maybe just my mom and dad at this point who continue to read my ramblings...god love you. Love you all!

Deep Thoughts with Jack Handy...err I mean Jenny remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Confessions...not of the 'Usher' persuasion

2007-06-18T01:01:19Z

So after 35+ days on the open roads I have temporarily taken up residency in Christchurch until I figure out about the next leg of my trip. Today was an 'emotional' day of sorts, I spent the entire morning cleaning up the car and packing my things away--this was no easy feat...I finally understand how people can turn their cars into further extensions of their rooms and closets--honestly how I accumulated so much crap boggles my mind. When I first came to new zealand I had my backpack, a small backpack and a large purse...after cleaning my car I had all that plus three small duffles worth of crap. Okay a lot of that is me being way too sentimental and holding onto like every damn keepsake from this trip so that when I come home I can make the most comprehnesive scrapbook ever and well the other part is those damn rocks...heavy little buggers.
As I drove the car back to the dealership all I could think about was how much has happened on my roadtrip and the interesting characters I have met along the way. Now the official count of kilometers driven was close to 4700 or so a bit less than 3000 miles roughly speaking--not bad, eh? Leaving the car at the Apex parking lot was harder then I expected...I mean this car was not only my transportation for these weeks, but many a nights I spent sleeping in it as well. So, yeah that's the confession part...up until a couple days ago Nancy and Steve were under the illusion that gertie was a campervan...campervan...nissan pulsar same difference.

Now, I can honestly say I have perfected the whole sleeping in the car system and not getting caught--seeing as how carcamping is illegal. One of my better experiences in deceiving the police was I parked my car in between two parked cars on the side of the road that had for sale signs in their windows...so I made my own sign put it in the window and had quite the lovely slumber minus the sound of traffic whizzing by and the occasional police siren in the distance causing momentary freakouts...but would I change the nights of freezing sleeplessness in the front seat with my legs wrapped around the stickshift in a makeshift fetal position...hell frickin' no--made my experience a little more off the beaten path. The one time I almost got caught which I have to admit was pretty stupid on my part....I slept in the parking lot at the visitor center in Wanaka...but mind you there were like 4 other campervans there so I thought it would be fine...wrong. At 5 in the morning I was awakened by a flashlight being shined through the passenger side window and someone yelling 'security, security open up!' The guy supposedly was being trailed by the police and was giving us a heads up to move our cars so we wouldn't get fined...I didn't get it either...nevertheless I moved my car and all was fine. I just felt in my own little way I was living on the edge...never knowing exactly where I was going to sleep for the night and wondering how I could possibly put on any more layers of clothing so that I had a fighting chance of not spending the whole night shivering. The last couple of weeks as the weather turned even colder I decided to spend the nights at holiday parks instead so I was atleast guarenteed a hot shower and hot meal every evening and finally I am staying in hostels. It's funny the more 'civilized' I have gotten throughout the course of my trip the less I have found I have enjoyed myself...it's been a hard transition to leave the world of matted hair and muddy boots for jeans and blow dryed hair...but it was bound to happen at some point or another. Although I still hold on to a bit of my ruggedness...the only shoes I have to wear at the moment are my hiking boots seeing as how my sneakers have fallen victim to the curse of the new balance...in other words the plastic lining in the heal has made its way through and left my ankle a bloody mess..and wearing flipflops in this weather would just be asking for frostbite...so dirt covered hiking boots it is...the one bonus of it all is they do add a good inch and a half to my height.
I have never been a huge fan of cities, I just have never really been able to see the appeal of them--lots of flashy lights, neon signs, the overwhelming and at times faint smell of urine in the air, littered streets and people...lots of people. But the last couple of days I have spent here in Christchurch, I'm starting to find my whole 'city perception' being shattered...okay minus the pee part. I love waking up in the morning not knowing exactly where I'm going and just getting lost in the city. Lost in that way where each street seems new and like a mystery that needs to be unraveled and each person on the street someone with a story, a history that lets my my wander. Finding cafes to make my own or walking in the botanical gardens and stopping to feed stale bread to the thousands of ducks or watch a group of older men live out their childhood dreams through handmade sail boat competitions. Or spending an afternoon sipping coffee in the main square in town, with the infamous (and yes mom in this case it works) wizard of cathedral square who preaches about god knows what and will speak his mind on any topic...to my left a lifesize chess set and a homless man playing a fellow traveler. Ahead of me the beautiful cathedral square, under construction at the moment, seagulls littered across the pavement like the trash they consume and all around me the day slowly quieting down, with the sound of a skateboard hitting against the maze of walkways...and school children all aflutter in matching kilts and navy sweaters dillydallying around with mischief on the mind and my latest book from a local used bookstore in hand.
Now with my ipod temporarily out of commission and no more gertie to rock out to billy joel and cat stevens I made a hefty purchase and invested in a $5 handheld radio. Now while standing on the street corner waiting for the pedestrian walk signal some people flipped open their cell phones and texted away...I extended the antennae from my radio. I just had to smile at myself thinking about how ridiculous I look in this day and age with a radio in hand with an antennae a good foot and a half extended and my walmartesque fleece...I have honestly gotten more stares since toting this radio...people just seem in awe that a real life radio still exists and that someone is actually using one.
Well, I hope all is well with everyone and happy father's day especially to you dad...sorry none of us kids could be there to celebrate with you...but I'll sit and watch some tv in your honor tonight!

Confessions...not of the 'Usher' persuasion remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Pictures of Catlins, Dunedin, Otago Peninsula, Mt. Cook...

2007-06-12T01:14:13Z

Pictures of Catlins, Dunedin, Otago Peninsula, Mt. Cook... remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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CAT+LINS...not KATE+LYNNs

2007-06-12T00:47:58Z

Most tourists who visit New Zealand bypass the journey along the southern scenic route all together and head straight from queenstown to Dunedin. Since I had the time I decided to take the road less traveled and head to Dunedin via Invercargill and along the rugged Catlins Coast. The Catlins are well known for their untamed coastline and multiple opportunities to view local wildlife.
The week I drove along the coast was one of the windiest times I have ever experienced. With southwesterly winds up to 120km/hr for the first time in my travels it was not me driving my car, but rather mother nature. I felt my car constantly veering towards the left...now, the left would be a 200m drop into a raging ocean and jagged cliffs...all I could think was if only the car would veer right instead..I'm sure hitting oncoming traffic would be a lot less painful then those sharp rocks...morbid maybe, but hey we all have these thoughts some time or another.
I seemed to stop the car every 10 minutes to hike to some remote little waterfall or tramp my way through soggy mud and grass to wetlands or a beach. On one particular stop I made my way to a beach called jemstone beach. The name came as no surprise as the pebbled beach seemed to shimmer in jade, ruby reds, emerald greens, cobalt blues. Never much of a seashell collector I decided to collect rocks--exciting I know...but they were just too beautiful to walk past. As I collected these rocks stuffing them into my 'cough' poncho 'cough' all I could think of was what a hypocrite I was. A few years before I had spent my summer working at zion national park telling the kids countless times that you should not take rocks because if every person who visited zion national park took one rock before you knew it it would no longer be zion national park...but rather zion national flatlands and who would want to visit there? (this would be the moment when the 6 year olds would burst out into giggles...so feel free to...) anyways at that moment, I said fuck it...I'm sure half those kids will end up in gangs or in jail anyways....so I loaded up...I can't lie the thought did run through my head that these authentic new zealand rocks would make great gifts to give back home...okay that might make me seem a little cheap...but honestly how many people can say they have a real live rock from new zealand...exactly. That was until the other day I was shuffling through my stuff and discovered that my prized rubies and emeralds now just looked black and dirty...apparently the way the water and sun was hitting the rocks that day made them look special...but alas they were just your run of the mill rocks...but no worries each of you is still getting one of them as a souvenier!
So, my experience in the catlins was kind of like a mini high school reunion. I was constantly running into fellow travelers that I had seen during earlier days in my travels...so here I went from traveling down the west coast where I could easily travel 200km and not see a single soul to running into the same people city after city. There was the lovely french couple that was too stereotypical for words...they were the most over affectionate overly food obsessed people I have ever met. There was simon and sara the british couple who I played a rousing game of scrabble with and ended up representing for America...then there were the two identical twin red headed sisters well nothing too exciting to note about them...but they did have red hair...Lewis family pride what what? Lastly there was the German...for a period of three days every single random stop I made along the way he was there...so we got to talking inside the hyde...(which is a little wooden hut you sit in while watching penguins make their way up from the water to the shore) and I learned he just like myself was doing the whole solo traveling thing by car...now back to the penguins...the penguins alone made my travel down the coast more than worth it....within a span of an hour 5/6 penguins slowly made their way to shore...floating along in the water, waddling up the shore, hopping up the dirt path and finally out of sight...and further down the shore were sea lions and seals...not a bad way to spend a rainy afternoon.
Then there was Zabita who I met in a deserted holiday park...now Zabita had one of those uncomofrtably short haircuts that left you guessing for the first hour whether or not Zabita was infact a boy or girl...that and the fact that she was of the British persuasion where not one word out of her mouth sounded remotely like english. It was so freezing that night that we ended up having a contest to see how many layers we each could wear...I had 22 shirts on top and a jacket, 8 pairs of pants on the bottom and 13 pairs of socks....I was toasty...speaking of toasty....burnt...there was the matter of my craptowel that just wouldn't dry so I had the 'genius' idea to get out a frying pan place my towel in it...you can see where this is heading...so yes I set the craptowel on fire...so now everytime I shower I am left with little pieces of burnt towel all over me...

CAT+LINS...not KATE+LYNNs remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Richard...

2007-06-10T23:15:56Z

Richard...the merino mullet toting local farmer. Now a merino mullet is a special brand of mullets...it's a kiwi mullet. It has the poof and fluffiness of the number one road kill in new zealand--the possum and the curly-q tail or 'party in the back' of a pig. Now, I met richard while staying in a campground in the outskirts of Invercargill. As I made my way into the kitchen for a late dinner of sorts with my latest Irving novel in hand I found a comfy chair in the corner and sat down. A good 10 minutes later the real 'encounter' of the week occured. Richard introduced himself as a local who lived at the motor camp full time and was kind enough to point through the window to his trailer...the one with the year round christmas lights and huge fishing pond in the front with fake fish in it. We then got into a 'heated' discussion about his childhood love of farm machinery and how that translated into an adulthood spent collecting model farm miniatures. Now, richard was a rather expressive man always using his hands to gesture...it was hard not to take note of his hands or rather fingernails...each nail was cut in an alternating pattern of long, short, long...with an equal amount of dirt deposited underneath. Richard also had a lovely habit of calling me 'sweets'...not to be confused with 'sweetie'...but sweets. He then told me how his lifelong dream was to go to disney WORLD...funny I said, mine was to travel and see the WORLD.

Richard... remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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MILFs...

2007-06-10T23:15:01Z

It has been a little over a month since I have been on the rowdy road and it is only in this past week that I can say I feel like I've finally hit my stride. Waking up around 6:30/7 every morning to a backpacker breakfast of sorts--meaning whatever I can scrounge around that is cheap and easy. By the time I finish packing up and hit the road the first signs of daylight are usually painting the sky piercing reds, oranges, pinks and purples and the sun is in that low almost blinding spot on the road where you have to squint and pray that what's making your tires screech and your car rattle is actually the road.
This past week I have made my way down from Te anau to Dunedin via the Southern scenic route. I realize that means nothing to you...but anyways it's some sort of reference. I spent four nights in Te Anau where days were spent hiking the kepler trek (one of the great walks of new zealand) and exploring the little town.
On June 1st, I drove to Milford Sound along milford road which is rumored to be one of the most beautiful drives in all of new zealand. I would concur that is if I could have seen a damn thing I was driving through. The cloud cover was so dense that it seemed almost a pity to waste my petrol, but alas I knew going to new zealand and missing the milford sound would be like going to the united states and not seeing the statue of liberty...in other words it wasn't an option.
I apparently arrived just in the nick of time for the last cruise of the day in the sounds. Without time to grab a jacket I was off and running. Now, the first clue that should have alerted me to the fact that this cruise was more 'hands on' then your typical cruise of the sounds was that it was called 'the encounter.' the second should have been the fact that onboard everyone seemed to be wearing these red rain jackets...it felt like they were all part of an exlusive club...a club of rain jacket misfits and I was on the outs. Now the third and final clue would be that the once classical easy listening music streaming through the speakers started playing the all too familiar jaws theme music...and then it happened the small cruise boat went head on into a waterfall...now if you have never been on a boat headed straight into a 750m high powerful force of mother nature...then I can honestly say you have never lived before. It felt like the ultimate white water rafting experience as the small boat rocked back and forth with the front of the boat at times nearly pointed to the sky...we crashed into the falls and while everyone screamed in excitement it hit me...so that's what the rainjackets were for. To say I looked like a wet dog would be an understatement I looked like the dead lifeless soaking rat the wet scraggly dog dragged in, but alas who can complain when your traveling on a small private cruise ship through a neverending landscape of fjords, hundreds of thousands of little waterfalls and the picture perfect rainbow cutting across the hazy, now slightly clearing skies of the MILF...milford sound that is.

MILFs... remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Quick sampling of photos...

2007-06-02T23:53:49Z

Quick sampling of photos... remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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A day so beautiful...even a blind man could see...

2007-05-29T23:33:15Z

It's days like this that remind me why as people we are meant to go through hard times, feel intense pain and sadness because without those periods in our lives we would not be able to truely appreciate beauty. I always thought the expression 'tears of joy' was just that an expression--until today it actually happened to me. It's funny when I think about it because it wasn't like the scenery I saw today was any more magnificent then other days, but for whatever reason today hands down was the best day of my life--and no I didn't meet the father of my children or discover the cure for cancer, but what I did find was joy--simple, easy unconflicted shear happiness.
When you can wakeup in the morning and feel excited for the day--you know that no matter what you do it's going to be okay--in fact better than okay--great. I wokeup yesterday in Queenstown did some errands--bought a poncho much to my embarrasment, but alas my rain jacket just isn't long enough and with the steady rain in weeks past it made sense to push my pride aside and take my turn as a grim reeper of sorts in my navy blue cape. Then I went to the grocery store picked up some goods for the trip ahead and even though I waited in line for a good 20 minutes, then had the cashier screw up my bill...multiple times..nothing could touch me today...I was just that at ease. Those days when everything just feels so right in the world that you find yourself effortlessly smiling as you walk along the streets...smiling for nobody in particular...but smiling because you just can't help it--that was me.
I filled up the tank, made pleasent conversation with the girl who rang up my order and was on my way to Te anau--the access town to the infamous Milford Sound. The weather had called for the next week to be rainy, but I wasn't going to let it phase me...especially with the fact that for the first time in ages I was listening to music from the radio because I was finally able to get some reception.
With a coffee placed so perfectly in my cupholder, the windows down I was off and running. The roads to milford seemed to stretch for miles in straight lines--was a different feel to the road then I had gotten used to in weeks past--the winding roads and sharp turns...but today I was able to just coast, let my mind wander and take in the mountains, crisp fall air and patches of blue sky admist the grey clouds. That's the thing about clouds in this country--they don't just occupy space in the sky...they linger here...sometimes they even seem to rise like steam or smoke from the ocean and forested mountains...but never the less they have purpose--they make a statement.
Instead of letting the beauty just pass me by--I really stopped and appreciated it today. Sometimes if I found a mountain or the way the light hit the river that I passed a kilometer back still playing in my mind...I would just stop the car wherever I was and walk back to that place, camera in hand and capture that image. Funny thing was more often then not when I walked back to those places they never seemed as breathtaking or striking as they did in those fleeting moments when I drove by--but again today was different...today I had to go back and see them just one more time.
As I drove on the skies not only cleared up but it became the type of day you were meant to drive in--although it is the tail end of fall and nearing the beginning of winter, the sun penetrated with such intensity that I felt my face redden under it's touch. The wind was out in full force today as well--with the leaves having already begun changing colors I found myself captivated by the leaves collecting in the wind, whirling around and dancing...it was like that moment in American Beauty with the plastic bag--something so simple as leaves...yet I just couldn't take my eyes off them.
Birds resembling humming birds with black and silver tipped wings dived down across the road ahead of me playing games with the open road and the dusty gravel...calling me to speed ahead, but always remaining just out of reach, but just enough in focus that again I was mesmerized by these hundreds of small creatures.
The clouds...again the clouds they seemed to lose their numbers as the day went on and the skies cleared, but their presence continued to be felt--at times they seemed so bright that you felt you were looking at the sun itself, the edges illuminated...I tried to sit back and take them in and try to figure out what they looked like...I couldn't. these weren't clouds meant to be described as whales or bugs bunny...they were nature personified.
And then it happened...the tears I felt them at first well up in my eyes...I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror..and was confused...I wasn't feeling sad so what was going on. And then it hit me...I was happy...I felt alive...whatever things have happened in the past, whatever is going to happen in the future it just didn't matter...not at that moment...at that moment everything was perfect--I don't throw this word around lightly...but that day it just was.
As I made my way to lake manapouri the skies began to darken...but it wasn't enough to stop me from getting out of my car and seeing this lake up close. It's funny I don't judge nor fault people who can just drive by mountains, lakes, etc. and call it a trip...to me that's like coasting through life and never really taking in the sights and sounds...never experiencing love...it's just not living. So, I got out of the car wandered along the pebbled lakeshore and looked out and what I saw was mountains in the background coated in a dusting of snow...but what really stuck a cord with me was even through the thick cloud cover there was this one strong, brilliant blinding ray of light that escaped the masses of clouds and shone through on the lake...now I'm not a religious person...more like spiritual, but honestly it felt like I was meant to see that ray of light--as I walked around the lake...it seemed to follow me and as I turned my back to walk back to the road...the light flickered out like a lit candle...leaving only the smokey grey clouds behind.
I headed into Te Anau around 4 that day and ended up staying at the Lakeside holiday park. As I parked my car I decided to walk around the campervan site and checkout the facilities...as I neared the kitchen/lounge area I saw it...it was brightly illuminated, colorful, and it's presence could be felt far beyond the confines of the room...there in the lounge was a huge giant screen tv...not just a tv, but a tv with an episode of the simpsons streaming across the screen...it was then that I knew life really couldn't get any sweeter then this.

A day so beautiful...even a blind man could see... remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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The JAPANESE are Coming...

2007-05-24T23:46:23Z

After one of my better night's sleeps I awoke excited and ready to tackle glacier country for the third day. After spending a couple of days at Franz Josef I made my way to Fox Glacier--the less touristy glacier of the two. Little did I know what I would be getting myself into that day...Driving to the glacier...well scratch that driving in the morning in general is always an interesting experience because Gerty well, she doesn't really like to discuss it but she's in the midst of menopause...in other words nightly hot flashes leave the car windows steamed up come morning...now that wouldn't be a problem if she could properly defog herself...takes way too long for my liking so I have been forced to resort to using the 2.99 CRAPowel I bought at Warehouse (NZ's equivalent of walmart) ..not to be confused with it's distant relative the towel...because the CRAPowel is the most non-absorbant thing ever...anyways the morning ritual is always me attempting to wipe the windows down enough so that I can partially see out of them. Anyways as I got to the parking lot near the glacier at around 7:30am I was met with the first tour bus of the day arriving at the exact moment I did. As I walked towards the main path to the glacier, I found my shadow illuminated in the early morning light...not by the sun but by the shear brightness of the flashes of cameras and overly bright neon ponchos of the Japanese tourists...from the blinding light I would have guessed hundreds...but there were only about 25 or so. As I politely smiled I walked along the path stopping every so often to take a picture as I tried to shield my camera from the rain...at this point it would be probably good to mention how paranoid I have become about protecting my camera from water of any kind after the last digital camera falling victim to salt water...anyways my camera at all times...rain or shine is wrapped in a plastic bag which is then placed in the camera case...the camera case is then placed in a plastic cream cheese container that is lined with a plastic bag which in turn is you guessed it covered in a plastic bag...so basically taking the picture is the easiest part of the ordeal...it's the getting to the camera that proves the more time consuming endeavor.
In the near distance I could hear the tour guide of the Japanese rambling, and the slight vibration of the ground underfoot told me that not only were the Japanese coming...they were getting closer.
As the ground shook, and the flashes went off one after another...I found myself getting slightly annoyed...not to say that I have become this nature snob...but the times I do get to be on the trail...I like to just take in my scenery and not have to be continually distracted by hoards of tourists...so anyways I felt the word forming at my lips, the sound of the vowels echoing in my throat...but alas the word wouldn't come out...as much as I wanted the trail to myself I didn't have the heart to scream "GODZILLA" just to see if in fact they would clear the trail.
At some point along the trail you are warned about a stream crossing...normally not a big deal, but because of the last week's steady downpour...the now once trickle of a stream was a pretty fearsome rapid...when I reached the 'rapid' I decided to walk a bit along the bank to see if I could find a good place to cross...as I did this the Japanese caught up to me...they seemed just as perplexed as I was about crossing the stream. Anyways eventually I found a route...that although it got me a bit wet seemed the safest and easiest way to get across...meanwhile the japanese had decided to use their many years of engineering ingenuity to craft some sort of bridge to cross the stream...I decided to cross back over the stream and offer my services to whomever wanted...so with my hand extended and my other hand gesturing towards the route I took...I nearly grabbed hold of one of the japanese woman's hands when the tour guide quickly ran up to the woman with the outstretched hand...and although she spoke japanese I could have sworn she uttered the words...'remember hiroshima' and with that the woman took back her hand and the japanese went back to bridge-building.
Needless to say I ended up getting the trail all to myself as I embarked on the final 10 min. of it towards the glacier...with many a pictures taken I headed back to the carpark...only to be greeted with the japanese still trying to cross the stream and eventually admitting defeat...

The JAPANESE are Coming... remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Who knew Jesus came from Holland?

2007-05-20T06:33:30Z

About a week ago while in Westport a young 20 something bloke from Holland struck up a conversation with me in the information center in Westport...little did I know this random encounter would be quite literally a biblical experience for me. Now Remko, who can only be described as that foreign exchange student from the movie 'can't hardly wait' who is so insanely happy that his mouth is permanently fixed in a smile and if you didn't know better you could quite easily be convinced he had just won the lottery...he was that happy of a guy. Anyways over the course of our discussion I learned that Remko was not only supposed to work at Tararu Valley, but he was also supposed to arrive on the same day that I was...our chance meeting in a random little city...coincidence?...I think not..but fate. What I got from Remko, besides a lot of 'yaw's" was a renewed spirit...not that I had forgotten, but he reminded me of the thrill of the adventure of traveling...of being able to go anywhere at the drop of a hat...to make your own fun...and that when else in my life will I have this much freedom and that maybe the weather might be shit one day...but really what did a little rain hurt anyone...I am in the midst of a once in a lifetime opportunity which should be lived out to it's fullest rain or shine.
So, this past week I went up north to karamea and oparara and as far south as Franz Josef glacier...which is where I am currently. The drive to karamea was like the ascent on a rickety old rollercoaster...the roads were all unsealed and the higher you climbed up the mountain, the more you felt yourself being pushed back into your seat and josselled from side to side. Now, I hadn't planned on visiting Oparara and Karamea but thanks to Remko I made the detour to this beautiful remote, rugged area of land--and it was definitely worth the drive.

Although the weather was a bit cloudy, as you can see from the pictures the area is beyond beautiful. The rugged untouched feel of Scott's beach for some reason conjured up images of wild horses straight out of 'misty of chinqatinc?' running along the beach wild and free...I have no idea why that came to mind considering it was like in 3rd grade I read that book...but that's what flashed before my eyes as I strolled the beautiful baren beach. The waves were so fierce and the winds strong...driving along the coast I really can feel the edges of this country like a jigsaw puzzle piece in a way that I can't say I've ever really been aware of when along the coast in the U.S....
Things I don't want to forget...the feeling of tracing my hand in the pink sands along the coast near Punakiki...
walking along the bach and listening to the rain beat down on the crashing waves creating a piercing cracking noise...
the foam collecting on the beach from the force of the waves like the foam atop a beer or the bubbles in a bubblebath...the feeling of collecting the sudsy ocean froth in your hands and watching it slowly evaporate...sand formations chiseled away by the ocean mimicing the rocks behind them, the swirl patterns formed by the mixing of the pink and white sands along the beach...the juxtaposition of dead and alive---driftwod, seaweed, uprooted trees next to raging fiercy alive ocean waves...teasing the tides to see just how close I can get before they try and catch me in their powerful surge....

In this past week I have hiked through caves to make my way to limestone arches, frolicked along beaches, ascended muddy hills for picturesque views of Lake Brunner, perused jade shops and little antique stores in Hoktika, found myself late at night exploring a cave that was illuminated by the light of actual glow worms....as I entered the cave the shear darkness of everything left me blind using only the feel fo the banister to guide me through the grotto...where I was surrounded by a wall of glowing light...much like the feeling of turning off the lights in your room and seeing glow in the dark stickers come alive...I went to punakiki and saw rocks that looked like stacks of pancakes that surrounded a blowhole...that every 10-15 minutes would cause a surge of water to powerfully explode shooting straight up...the moments leading up to the explosions felt like when you overloaded a dryer and the dryer starts to shake as it's on it's last cycle and ready to near explode because of being so jam-packed...
I visited cape foulwind and got to see hundreds of kekeno seals nesting along the rocks...basking in the sun while others danced in the waters waddling along like pregnant women in their final trimesters....

Now the number one question I get asked is 'aren't you lonely traveling by yourself?' ...the truth is yes at times it can be lonely, but for the most part I have truely come to own and believe that loneliness is in fact just a state of mind. I mean I'm sure we can all remember a time when we were amongst a group of people and couldn't have felt more alone...in these past weeks I have had the opportunity to meet fellow travelers along the way...but more importantly I have learned to savor the connections I make no matter how small...I mean call me crazy, but I have come to a point in my life where the 5 minute conversation I have with the local townie while getting my coffee can feel just as intimate and real to me as the 5 hour talk I have with the random traveler...in other words life on the road has humbled me and made me that much more appreciative of my fellow man. What more why are people so scared to be alone with themselves? I mean I full heartedly believe that no experience is worth doing if I couldn't feel completely comfortable doing it by myself...in other words it's that comfort with yourself that I think is most important and is something I am slowly but surely learning. I mean also...there are some benefits like hello repeat outfit offender and nobody has to know...or what about all those times of awkwardness or clumsily falling that nobody has to bare witness to...anyways I am completely comfortable and happy with the amount of alone time and time with my fellow traveler I have...so no more 'are you lonely' questions folks!
Well, it's raining like cats and dogs outside...so I'm going to go find some illegal place to park my car for the night...beats paying for a campground...and hopefully tomorrow it will be nice enough out that I can get some viewings of the glacier...and even if it's raining I'm still going to seize the day because that's what Remko would want me to do!

Who knew Jesus came from Holland? remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Hocking a loogie and wishing for World Peace

2007-05-12T04:22:53Z

They say when a woman gives birth and experiences the magical sensation of holding her newborn for the first time she is overwhelmed with her first true feelings of unconditional love...a love which I can only relate to how I feel about Gerty (and yes Betty has been renamed.) Now, Gerty is a 1997 piece of automobile history if you ask me and is quite particular in her likes/dislikes:
Name: Gertrude...Gerty for short
Likes: Long drives on the beach, parking underneath the stars, driving insync to the likes of Cat Stevens and 80s anything and everything
Dislikes: bumpy nonsealed roads, radio stations broadcasting how Jesus will save her soul and road rage
General Description: Child bearing hips good for supporting extra baggage in the trunk, has a few character defining dents and scrapes..all aquired in pursuit of tracking down villains, robbers, rapists, the likes, an engine that purrs like a lifelong smoker and yes her favorite book is "The Little Engine That Could" and she thinks hybrid cars are the yuppys of today's generation and much prefers old clunkers like herself
...but enough about my love child.
So this past week was spent driving from Nelson to Farewell Spit and back to Nelson (where I am currently.) Driving in general in this country is a real pleasure...with the lack of traffic due to the fact that sheep outnumber people in New Zealand makes long drives much enjoyable. Setting out on highway 6 I found myself overcome with feelings of excitement and a bit of nerves as well. I mean having the freedom to travel the whole entire country for a good two months...making your own route, starting and stopping wherever you want is a type of independence I had never experienced before. Of course this made me sing aloud to all my guilty pleasure music selections on the radio with a little headbanging thrown in there for good measure, roll down all the windows and make a point to stop at almost EVERY possible detour along the way...including the very exciting world of wearable arts museum and a rock that resembled an old man's face.
I drove through magestic mountains that can only be described as straight out of fairy tales, with snow-capped mountains, lush green dense forests covering the base of the mountains, clear rivers cutting through the base of the mountains...the roads through the mountains were extremely windy giving my abs a good workout from the constant shifting of the steering wheel from side to side...I found myself like a true tourist stopping every 10 feet to pullover and take a picture only to realize 10 feet up the road was an even better spot to take pictures...again thank god for the lack of traffic because it allowed me at times to travel under the speed limit so I could SAFELY get a good look at the everchanging jawdropping beautiful scenery surrounding me. Quite frequently there were detours to different beaches along the way. The beaches were all beautiful some with the typical white sand, but the more up the coast I traveled the more I encountered golden sandy beaches...it is hard to adequately describe the feeling that arises when you walk the span of a beach, sit atop some rocks on the edge of the beach and look back on to a seemingly endless path of your footsteps spanning the entire beach...and knowing for that one moment in time without a soul in sight you own that beach...and yes in a couple of hours the tide will come in and wash away your footprints just like it has with past travelers, but for that moment you have made your mark on the world.
I had the opportunity to venture on a couple of treks as well...the first hike I did was Takaka Hills which encompassed a combination of limestone, pastureland and beautiful views of golden bay...as evidenced from the pictures my only real competition for the trail came from the cows...and even when they weren't directly blocking the path their massive piles of shit were...I guess you can really say I have been viewing this country with fresh eyes because I ended up walking the trail 1.5 times before realizing I had already been up the path...but then again in this country it is so easy to get lost in the natural beauty.
I drove up to Totaranui, but not before doing a little tramping down to Aroha (another part of the Abel Tasman Coastal Track (one of the great walks in New Zealand.) I think I'm beginning to start to understand the magic of hiking...it is such a great opportunity to really clear your mind and sort through your life or at the very least scream at the top of your lungs to Ace of Base. The walk to Aroha was through a very lush, wet rain forest atmosphere with low-hanging banches, green moss covering everything and frequent corssings of little streams. The drive to Totaranui was along an unselaed very windy road and much to my delight I found myself caught behind a rabbit, bless it's dear soul, that didn't exactly understand the idea of jumping off the road to get out of the way and proceeded to hop for it's dear life ahead of Gerty...at times going well over 30km. At totaranui I explored the beach, hiked a bit more of different parts of the abel tasman track and did a lot of reading/journaling.
I'm almost embarrased to admit it, but I usually find myself going to bed at 8 at the latest and awaking at around 6am...there is just something so nice about rising and falling with the natural rhythms of the sun. One thing I wasn't expecting from traveling was becoming such a reader...I find I really crave the comfort of a good book along the road...not just for the obvious escape it provides, but for the intellectual stimulation that can sometimes be overlooked after months and months of traveling.
From Totaranui I hit pohara beach then made my way up the coast towards Farewell Spit...which of course had one of the biggest impacts on me thus far in my travels and I didn't have a working camera to capture the magical place...but maybe its better that way...forced me to really take in all the sights and sounds. I started out walking out along golden ashy beaches with the mountains in the background, white sandunes in the distance and a marshy wetland like atmosphere surrounding me...the type of place I'd envison you would find many a blue heron. The sand tended to make up little pocketed islands that were separated from one another by streams of water ranging from a few inches to a foot in depth...but easily navigable by foot. As I traversed my way from island to island, with a blue sky overhead, a few clouds in the sky resembling cotton that had been stretched apart and a rainbow far off in the distance, I could see a good 100 black swans gathering...With such a thin layer of sand separating the actual water from your foot it felt like you were tramping on a waterbed as each step gave way to a little bounce and giggle of the surrounding sand, the sand was covered in a rippled pattern that was mimiced in the water bodies nearby...created by the strong gusts of winds that at times were so strong that they caused my pants to act as sails. Some fo the black swans were flying low to the ground, creating an almost drumroll sound effect as they took flight and their white tipped wings flapped in the air, others floated along the water, but most just stood in groups debating whether to stay and make their way through the maze of sandy islands or venture into the great bay that lay just a few feet away. I can't tell you exactly why it's called farewell spit...maybe because it kind of looks like pools of spit...but for whatever reason I decided upon leaving the area to pay my respects by making a wish as I hocked a loogie and shouted 'farewell spit.'
This next week I will be heading to Nelson Lakes National Park and making my way to Westport and Greymouth...possibly, but who knows...that's what's so nice about this lifestyle...there are no set plans...everythings up in the air...and as long as I have gas in the tank and tunes blaring then this girl...or shall I say woman is utterly content. On that note a HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY to all you mother's out there that are reading this...but most importantly to my mom...I love you!

Hocking a loogie and wishing for World Peace remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Here you go Mom...

2007-05-11T07:13:04Z

...of course my camera breaks so I lost some of the pictures...the rest I can't upload because it will take up my picture quota for the month on this site...but didn't get any pictures of farewell spit...although the mental images I have are indescribable...will detail soon!

Here you go Mom... remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Xena the Warrior Princess and I are on a first name basis...

2007-05-04T05:07:06Z

They say a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step...well, I'd have to disagree I say it starts with a little car I like to call Betty. Name subject to change to four letter expletives should Betty stall, get lost or cause me to drive on the wrong side of the road. And no the name Betty has nothing to do with famous cartoon character Betty Boop...but EVERYTHING to do with my favorite golden girl and yours Betty White...or good ol' Rose. Because just like Rose I hope to have many many long rambling stories to recount about my travels...much like she does about St. Olaf. Now this prized vehicle I will be driving doesn't have a cd player...and since radio is not always a guarentee driving through mountains...I was forced to scour the city looking for tapes...and let me say the selection was bleak...but admist the abba, hanson and numerous eurotrash cassettes I was able to score some aerosmith, pearl jam, michael jackson (thriller), springstein, cat stevens, phil colins and of course billy joel's greatest hits. Anyways I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to profess my dying love and devotion to New Zealand trash magazines...and so with that here is my top ten list of why New Zealand Celeb magazines rule...in no particular order:
1. They have obscene graphic photos of celebrities in compromising positions
2. New Zealanders have no ACTUAL celebrities themselves so it's all american/uk pop culture...but who are we kidding the uk has no pop culture either...so really it's just britney spears
3. The only "claim to fame" that New Zealand can even attempt to label a 'celeb' would be Keisha the girl from that whalerider movie and Xena the warrior princess...and yes folks I am in the same country that these god given talented women reside in...jealous? I would be.
4. They have an ask the psychic section....with such earth shattering revelations like...one woman asked is my dog sitting near me...the psychic said yes....and I'm not kidding that was the actual question
5. They have wordfinds, soduko, crosswords and spot the difference between two pictures
6. They print BLATANT lies that even I have to question
7. They can't spell...and neither can I
8. they give away free packets of stale cookies
9. They have tearjerker inspirational articles about people with big club like feet that find love with men who have foot fetishes...or how about the one about the girl whose sister became a man and they fell in love...I was just as excited as you to learn Jerry Springer came in not just televised format...but magazines as well!
10. and finally well...there is no tenth so deal with it.
...Right now I'm Nelson the top of the south island and in the next week I hope to hit all three national parks in the vicinity (abel tasman, nelson and karahangi (or something like that). Anyways will report more later...hope all is well with everyone and I love and miss you all!
P.S. The flight from the North Island to the South island...truely breathtaking...with water looking like frozen swirls of ice jutting out into windswept streams, green plotted land sprinkled with the occasional house or two...flying through clouds that resembled freshly popped popcorn but quickly morphed into a patch of flattened cauliflower with glimpses of the water breaking through here and there with the sun setting on the clouds and the faint glimmer of the moon in the background...

Xena the Warrior Princess and I are on a first name basis... remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Disappearing Birthmark, Old ladies f'bombing it and Baywatch

2007-12-30T04:40:37Z

So, I had a travel breakdown...now many of you might be asking yourselves what exactly is that...well, it's kind of like your car breaking down minus the whole car thing. Almost like a faulty compass or like missing a bus to your next travel destination have you...well, basically it's a term I just made up so bare with me. Well, my breakdown involved a cold, heartless, touristy, lacking any real personality city called Auckland and a girl better known to most of you as Jenny aka me. Something about this city doesn't sit right with me from my initial glimpse of Auckland that first day back in February when I aimlessly wandered the streets completely jet lagged, to that evening spent in Alfred Park at the Chinese lantern festival to this past week where I spent my nights holed up in the kiwi international hostel and my days stuck in the self help section at borders--and yes I did infact travel 1/2 way across the world just to find out if it was in fact true that the self help section is better on the other side of the rainbow--or world have you.
Those who know me would vouch for me when I say I have an unhealthy obsession with this section in a bookstore in fact I would go as far as to say when I was younger I had probably read every chicken soup for the teenage soul known to man including the short lived chicken soup for the divorced, golf loving, bible toting creepy dad series...and yes even these books imparted valuable, inspirational messages to learn from like always make sure your bible cover matches your shoes and belt when taking out some jesus loving honey on a date. so as you see this section had yet to fail me so as I spent this week much in transition I looked to border's self help section for some sort of answer or direction much in the same way people look to mcdonalds for nutritious meals...in other words I knew I probably wasn't going to find what I was looking for but learning about how to be the best possible me, win friends and meet the man of my dreams all in one sitting was too hard to pass up. Anyways all jokes aside it has definitely been a trying week as I try to make sense of my early departure from the valley and what the hell I want to do these next four months....
Sitting in the basement at Borders with elton john's greatest hits streaming through the speakers I palmed my way through a stack of impressive looking books--that were all really thick, had small print and no pictures...with an occasional trashy celeb magazine decorating my pile of reading...and yes I too was appauled to learn that Sarah Jessica Parker was on welfare growing up in Ohio--I mean welfare comeon now...that whole rags to riches story has so been done...need I mention Jewel...campervan...alaska?!?! Anyways as I sat there reading it hit me I can agnoize about how life changes unexpetedly whether your prepared for it or not or I could stop overanalyzing everything and start paying attention to what really matters--like the lovely early 60s couple of chinese women who were dropping f-bombs like nobody's business and egging one another on to see who could belch louder--these were no ordinary burps...I mean seriously we're talking richter scale here folks. That day I learned a valuable lesson besides the critical don't let age and gender fool you women can be just as crude as men, second I learned on one of my visits to the public restroom that new zealand bathrooms are like ridiculously clean...I mean we're talking cleaner than many of the upscale bathroom facilities at such fine dining restaurants as clydes, mortons and the palm...third I learned new zealanders are under the false pretense that 1-ply toilet paper that happens to break into two classifies as 2 ply...which I'm sad to report is definitely not the case...and lastly my great insight into new zealanders is that 15 year old girls getting drunk for the first time sound exactly the same in any country...I mean seriously I get it you loooooovvvve your friend, and yes the room is spinning, oh and double yes you are in fact just that cool spending a tues. night hanging ou in the lady's restroom at the mall, drunk and waiting for daddy to pick you up in the family minivan seeing as your curphew on a school night is 10. anyways my love/hate relationship with auckland is thankfully coming to an end as i finally leave this city behind and learn what its like to use public transportation--the dreaded bus system that is.
My friend Jen from the valley told me that the bus drivers like everyone to introduce themselves and tell something unique about yourself...so this past week I have been toying with 'hi, my name is Jenny and I have a disappearing birthmark." now before you scream lame...let me just let you naysayers in on a little something I like to call conversation starter of the century...I mean seriously how many people can say their birthmark is pink, disappears at the touch of a finger and is shaped like Kirstie Alley pre-Jenny Craig ?? Or there is always the "hi my name is Jenny and I almost killed two chickens in one day--whether it was by accidently locking a chicken into the feed bin where it nearly suffocated to death and developed a serious aversion to food--add giving a chicken anorexia to my list of things to resolve in therapy as well as there was the other chicken or rather rooster that I by accident dumped all the compost on and it nearly got henpecked to death right infront of my eyes. So the vote is on...Jenny the chicken killer or Jenny the proud owner of fashion's latest must have--a disappearing birthmark...you choose!

This past week was also spent visiting Operau or something like that...a beach located in the north that is famous for it's rough waters and surfing. Visiting that beach on a cloudy, windy cold day could not have been any more enjoyable. With the beach nearly deserted except for the occasional surfer or couple walking hand in hand in search of mussels washed ashore--we were free to roam, take in the fresh salty air, dip our toes into the water, collect seashells and reinact our very best baywatch imitations...in other words what more could you ask for? This past week I also visited Devonport, a small island located just a short ferry ride from Auckland which is probably the most elegant and sophisticated suburb I have come into contact yet since being in this country. With antique shops and cafes galore it was easy to spend the whole day wandering the streets, sipping coffee and strolling along the coast. It was also the perfect setting for my last meal with Pippa before we went our separate ways--as we reminisced over the last couple of months, pretended to be all sophisticated in a classy restaurant and shed some tears knowing that not only were we ending one chapter of our journey, but saying goodbye at least momentarily to a friendship that we jokingly related to the movies 'before sunrise and before sunset'...in other words we had a year to meet back up in europe...where we would travel on the millions I would have of course made in just one month after graduating university and then if for some reason that fell through then we would show up to each other's weddings...so either way I have a friend for life.

Disappearing Birthmark, Old ladies f'bombing it and Baywatch remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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So...I've been evicted from the Big Brother House

2007-04-04T06:21:21Z

To make a long long long story short...I am officially done with my volunteer stint at Tararu Valley Sanctuary. This whole past week I had been debating whether or not to leave earlier in the week or hold out until Sunday when Pippa was also going to leave...but really what was causing me so much indecisiveness was the fact that as ready as I was to be done with this whole experience and move onto the next leg of my journey...the comfort in knowing the routine of the valley was making leaving that much harder. Now compare that with 4 months of no routine, galavanting all over new zealand and australia with no set agenda and total freedom...for most people the decision would be easy--move on, leave, get out,etc. but for me I was definitely a bit nervous--transition in general seems to do that to me--as much as I look forward to the future...the being in limbo state is definitely no fun.
So, let's fast forward to yesterday...woke up anxious as usual and headed into the lounge where I was assigned weeding for the day--which involved waging war on honeysuckle, attempting to pull out pampras which is a huge feather like weed...mind you this weed's root is like 3 feet by 3 feet and burried 2 feet in the ground...so it was no simple task. That afternoon I went down to the bottom orchard and mulched/maneured the avocado trees and finally made my way back up to the middle orchard where I started to weed around the vegetable garden. In the midst of weeding one second I was standing picking at some thistle, the next I was lying on the ground in the opposite direction and completely out of it...in other words I fainted...the only warnings I had had prior to that moment were the last few days my vision had been slightly blacking out and I had been pretty dizzy...not that fainting is anything extraordinary or anything, but it definitely caught me offguard and shook me up a bit--seeing as nobody else was anywhere in sight--but it did give me an excuse to chill that afternoon and take it easy.
So, anyways let's skip ahead to the juicy stuff...Pippa and I decided to leave wednesday (instead of our supposed saturday departure) and spend tuesday doing laundry , errands, packing, etc...now mind you we decided this all, but had yet to inform Dagmar and Jon...little did we know what we were setting ourselves up for...dun dun dun que some scary threatening music and sit back and hold your seats folks...this ride is going to be a bumpy one. Anyways upon our rather informal yet assertive declaration of our plans we were met with an immediate request...more like demand for a "talk"...whenever people say 'talk' you know it's going to be interesting...anyways as we sat around the table Jon and Dagmar let both Pippa and I have it...saying that we were leaving them in a lurch, that it wasn't fair that we were ducking out a couple days early and that they wouldn't have it...mind you we are PAYING THEM and we are doing MANUAL LABOR for THEM...so in reality they had no justifications whatsoever for their reactions...but as tension mounted, words were exchanged...and well instead of stooping to their pathetic level of arrogant condescension...I decided to laugh off the whole thing and not let them realize that their words were affecting me in the slightest...which of course only further fueled their rage and led to their immediate 'dismissal' of us...in other words I followed true Lewis tradition and got kicked out of 'volunteering'...how good am I? The funny thing is I did absolutely nothing wrong except save them 3 days worth of feeding me and housing me..I know I'm such a bitch. Anyways they told us to pack our stuff up immediately and we would be dropped off in town...just to give you some insight into what class acts these people are...they told pippa she should be greatful for this experience because she was getting a reduced rate since she was on scholarship...i mean seriously what assholes...just because someone can't fully pay for something they make you feel inferior...oh and they told me that they didn't appreciate my indecisiveness about whether I was planning to stay at the valley or not...funny isn't it...considering they left me waiting till about a week before i was planning to travel in the south island to tell me that there would be no volunteers coming in may and that if i stayed i would be doing administrative work...
now this is where things get interesting...so we packed up, I laughed some more just to put a little more salt in the wounds...the funny thing was the second I was packed and in the van headed to downtown thames...all the mounted tension, stress, anxiety I had been feeling since being at the valley completely lifted...no joke--not to be all hokey or what not, but it reassured me that us leaving was definitely the right thing to do...anyways during the drive down we had to listen to jon spew some bullshit yogie mumbo jumbo about how everything happens for a reason and hopefully we won't let what happened that morning color our whole experience and bla bla...all the while I was happily humming to myself the michael jackson 'free willy' theme song...don't ask me why...but well it just felt right...also you'll note the only words I know to that song are..'hold me like the river jordan...' so i'm not exactly too sure how it fit the mood...but somehow someway it did. anyways in town we did some laundry and decided to attempt to hitch a ride to auckland instead of taking a bus...side note mom just appreciate that i'm telling you this instead of pretending otherwise...anyways after hauling three bags that weighed i'd say near 80 pounds a little over a mile we parked our stuff at the side of the road and did our best to look desperate and in dire need of a ride...apparently it worked because we got a ride in less than 10 min. so the guy who picked us up...middle aged and on his way to pick up his "wife" in auckland from the airport...so sketch points so far = 1...then add the fact that we took the scenic route to auckland instead of the regular route add another point, then there was the whole pretend calls made to hotels in town to book for him and his 'wife' add one more...then the whole comment about only picking up attractive young girls...add 1 again...and finally the icing on the cake was the whole 'well, girls seeing as how you guys say you haven't had a proper shower in 2 months you are more than welcome to come to my hotel room and have one'...alrighty this is the point when doors were checked as to whether they were locked or not, awkward silence filled the air and I scooted as close as possible to the door handle...long story short we made it safe and sound to our hostel said goodbye to paul our hitchiking pedophile and called it a night....
now I will be in auckland until friday when I plan to take the bus and start making my way south towards wellington, then all along the west coast of the south island up along the east coast of the south island back up to the north island and then all along the northernmost tip of the north island...so will keep you posted...in the meantime love and miss you all and tell me how you're doing!

So...I've been evicted from the Big Brother House remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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a little bit of this a little bit of that...part 2 tongariro

2007-12-30T04:46:42Z

The next day we spent hiking on a trail that was actually well defined in comparison to the backcountry treks we had been doing the last couple of days. The first part of the hike was on a section of the tongariro crossing--one of the most popular day hikes to do in all of New Zealand. The negative being that at any given point there can be some 800 people doing the crossing making the hike feel less like an escape from civilization and more like standing in a neverending line at the grocery store while somewhere faint in the distance you can hear someone continually asking for a cleanup on aisle 4. At times it felt like I was in my very own where's waldo where everyone seemed dressed in the same outdoorsy clothes and hiking boots making differntiating my fellow hikers from the masses difficult--except for the fact that we had huge backpacks on while most of the dayhikers were outfitted with small dayhike bags. Surrounded for the most part by unfamiliar faces and redundant stories of past hikes and heavy sighing and gasps as the scenery contined to mystify and baffle and the scree and upward ascents took their physical toll on the hikers of all ages. Anyways 1/2 way through the hike we ended up walking off the beaten path in an effort to do some illegal camping for the night. the place we decided to set up our tents at was surrounded in this mud which can only be described as goldeny mustard colored reminiscent of a mud facial that jiggled under the weight of one's boot much in the same fashion as cellulite--beautiful imagery I know. That night I shared a tent with Dagmar while Pippa and Jen were in the other tent nearby. I ended up getting little if any sleep that night seeing as how the ground was completely frozen over. Dagmar believes in cross ventilation and by that I mean having both sides of the tent completely unzipped and open. Now mind you this woman is pregnant so I was doing my best to accomodate her...while she on the other hand made it her personal mission to tell me everything that was wrong with my camping gear. It began with my sleeping pad...now mine is your standard ridge rest...her's was the inflatable type that kept her 5 inches from the ground while mine caused me to sink into the ground--with no protection whatsoever from the cold. Now on to the fact that I was wearing 6 layers on the top, 6 layers on the bottom as well as 4 pairs of wool socks, a rain jacket, a fleece jacket, a pair of glacial gloves and a wool hat...now what was Dagmar wearing you ask? A cotton shirt and pants...and she spent the whole night reminding me of just how warm and toasty she was as I shivered for dear life...lovely woman isn't she?

a little bit of this a little bit of that...part 2 tongariro remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Tongariro National Park part 1...

2007-04-11T12:22:35Z

I awoke with a nervous excitement brewing as I knew the next week ahead would be full of challenging backpacking, exploration of a new place and time away from the valley. We left the valley at around 8am, but didn't arrive at Tongariro National Park until 6pm that night after making a mad dash to the Khatmandu outdoor apparel store in Hamilton. As we started the ascent from the carpark up towards the alpine hut where we would be spending the evening it was amazing to see the starc contrast between the farming land on one side of the road and near barren volcanic rock covered landscape that surrounded the bottom of Mt. Ruapehu. Hiking up with a fully loaded backpack along scree--gravel like rocky terrain by torches was definitely memorable as a faint and at times steady downpour of mist and rain clouded the air. Mt. Doom from Lord of the Rings was barely in sight in the distance illuminated by a near full moon and that lovely aura that radiates when the moon is caught behind a billowy cloud. When we finally arrived at the hut we were pleasently surprised to find that we had the whole cabin to ourselves--we each claimed a bunk and began prepping for dinner. No meal tastes as good as the one right after a nice hike--that's for sure. That evening as the temperatures got near freezing, I found myself shaking and unable to warm myself up no matter how many layers I seemed to bundle myself up in.
The next day we woke up again bright and early in an effort to get to the summit of Mt. Ruapehu before the weather took a turn for the worse. We started off walking along the riverbed, carefully maneuvering our way through rocks and cold glacial waters...that whole morning I couldn't seem to shake a feeling of negativity that seemed to linger in the pit of my stomach--in other words hiking that day was definitely much more of a mental challenge than physical. That is the common theme for much of what I've encoutnered since being in this country--things might be hard physically, but I know I can do them...it is the mind that is the much more powerful demon that needs the reassurance. The hike slowly changed from rocky to ice as we found ourself walking straight up sheets of snow and ice, having to really stab our feet into the ground--mimicking crampons--if we wanted any real chance of staying vertical. The final part of the hike consisted of a scramble up some scree and snow that for every two feet you were able to hoist yourself up and over you went four feet backwards seeing as how getting any real good gripping of the terrain with one's hiking boots was rather difficult. All that effort to get to the summit was more than worth it as we were greeted by a scene straight out of mars with a huge crater right infront of us covered in snow with random pockets in the snow every couple of feet that gave way to the molten rock that laid covered in ice below. What started out as a fairly clear morning started to take a turn for the worse as the temperatures became blistering cold, the winds picked up and seeing the person right infront of you became increasingly difficult...but since we had made it to the summit we weren't planning on descending until we at least got the opportunity to chekout crater lake and see how the terrain had changed in the last few months--seeing as there had been a fairly recent landslide. Relying solely on Dagmar's familiarity with the mountain we were somehow or another able to make it to a cliff that in theory was supposed to overlook the lake...but because of the dense cloud coverage it felt more like we were being enveloped in the arms of a cloud in the middle of nowhere rather than just a few hundred feet from an enormous frozen lake. We tried to wait out the weather, but the longer we waited, the colder it got and the fewer provisions we had so eventually we made our way back down towards the hut. The hike down made up for the fact that we didn't get to see the lake--it was amazing as my spirits quickly lifted as we took off our rain jackets tied them around our waist and used them as makeshift sleds to slide our way down the icy ravine that seemed to span for miles weaving our way in and out of rocks, as the speeds picked up and innocent screams of laughter and excitement echoed through the otherwise quiet mountainside I found my face flushed and a smile from ear to ear.

Tongariro National Park part 1... remains copyright of the author JeNZTrek, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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