July 4: I don't do long goodbyes.

It’s the homestretch, ladies and gentleman. Tomorrow I’ll be leaving these two islands via jet plane and back in the states, and while there are a few things I’m looking forward to, there’s even more I’ll miss. Going to the beach, for one. Certain people I’m not sure I’ll meet again, some people I know I will. Karolina and Tasha, for instance, the two girls I met at the end of February. We had a mini reunion in Auckland, a few days before Karolina was leaving for Germany. I have spent a total of eight days with Karolina in the time that I’ve known her, and I was near tears the night before she left. Tasha is equal parts mother, sibling and playmate. I do love those girls, and believe I’ll se them again soon.
On my last night, Sarin, my Canadian compadre, took me to the Matariki festival. It’s the Maori new year, and a bunch of dub step bands were playing at Auckland’s town Hall. Dub step is the quintessential Kiwi sound, and it is five times better than reggae and about a million times more interesting than DnB. For the first time, I saw that faces of bands I’ve only heard the names of, and put faces to the songs I’ve heard in other people’s cars. As a thank you gift to Sarin, I gave her a lot of my junk that I felt to guilty to throw away. Also, I gave her a NZ greenstone necklace, which traditionally must be given, not bought for oneself. I think it’s every tourist’s dream, deep down, to be given one before they leave NZ, because it’s basically the best souvenir you can get. Unless, of course, it’s harvested from Britsh Columbia, as Sarin pointed out. Though I didn’t ask where it came from, I told her not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and just to like it. Which she did.
I wish I knew what to say about my experience. I wish I could look at the sum total of what I did in New Zealand, and say that the trip meant this or I learned that. I think everything I hoped would happen happened in the way I least expected. I fell in love, but with a man from California. I loved my classes, but made most of my friends from random run-ins with strangers. I went on amazing road trips, most often in the backseat of a strangers car. I made decisions and mistakes that I never thought I’d make. Writing about it was harder than I thought it would be, because I felt like two people: the girl writing back home and the girl making a new home. So I’m looking forward to talking to all of you one on one and sharing anecdotes and answering questions and explaining certain photographs, for the brief period of time that such things will captivate your interest ☺.
It’s been wonderful, weird, hard, ugly, beautiful, disturbing, unnerving, exhausting, rewarding, unique, exhilarating, and neat. Let’s do it again sometime.
See you soon.
Ems.

May 3: Class takes time, Super-Sister-Vacay, Winter in Aucks.

Ok, it’s been a while. I apologize. I can’t say it won’t happen again, on account there’s not much to write about, except various assignments that need to done, banking issues that need to be sorted, Internet complaints, dorm complaints, and the like. As I’ve said, my day-to-day life is pretty well established, and is pretty much a regular day-to-day life anywhere else, but with bad TV shows and fewer places that accept credit.

When school started in March, my sister asked me if I wanted to move to or live in New Zealand. If I wanted to, I could be very content living in a suburb outside Dunedin or Christchurch, maybe even Wellington, but I don’t think I can stand the rainy winter of Auckland. Temperature wise, it’s not that different from Dallas. But Auckland winters are muggy. Layering is essential, as you’ll find yourself freezing when you walk out the door and sweating bullets by the time you reach your destination. The rain is also enough to drive you nuts. Raincoats and umbrellas work fine, yes, but the wind blows it at an angle, directly into your pants, sousing your whole lower body. It is useless to try and save money on the cheap umbrellas, as the wind will destroy them. Better to invest in something with hydraulics and shock absorbers to buffer you from the wind as well as keep you dry.

In other news, Sarah came down during the mid-semester break I had about two weeks ago. We rented a car and tripped around the South Island’s northern tip, avoiding the rain as much as we could. Despite being significantly colder, it’s still more beautiful. As Sarah matter-of-factly put it, as we drove past more pastoral wonderland and craggy, snowy mountaintops, “Well, I’m stunned.”

Though brief, the trip was considered a rousing success by all involved. There were many stops at beaches and hot springs and hostels with hot tubs, as it was winter and most buildings in New Zealand have poor heating or no heating at all. Once more, I shall sing the praises of the Budget Backpackers and Hostels guidebook, for while we managed to stay at one or two total clunkers, the four or five other hostels we found were top notch. We took long walks through the rainforests and tea tree forests, scooted over the dunes at Farewell Spit, saw some baby seals and dissolved into cooing, giggling girls, hung out at the waterslides of some hot springs, tramped through pastures and down cliff faces, and witnessed many a “changing environ,” as Sarah liked to put it.

What else, what else. I wrote a column for the student magazine. Dan, the editor, sent me a text one day during class, asking why I hadn’t written anything for him.

“Remember the time I quit?” I wrote back.

“Lame. I need something on American politics, and you’re the only American I know.”

“…I’ll see what I can do.”

2,000 words and one side bar later, I had my piece ready and I think it’s due to run on Monday. I’ll save a copy for my peeps when I come back.

It was fun to write, even though it’s got pretty much all the opinions floating around in most op-ed columns I’ve read from US media sources. And I wouldn’t call it reporting, but it was fun to research. (And it made me feel so out of touch! Apparently there's movies coming out that I've never seen previews for, and gas is $4 a gallon. Who knew?)

Yep, life’s pretty good. I’m going to get some sushi and do some more reading. Love you guys.

March 18: Dorm life, people I know, things that I read, classes I take.

Week three of classes has begun, and surprise of surprises, this school is hard. I've scheduled out my reading for my four classes (lit. and the contemporary, politics and the media, Maori politics and public policy, and New Zealand lit.) and I've got anywhere between 150 and 250 pages of reading to do in a day. Luckily, I didn't factor in weekends, so I can spread it out there. Most of my papers--sorry, essays--are due all in the same week (the day Sarah gets into town, actually) so I've had to get started on those pretty quickly. 

This leaves me pretty stressed about writing for the magazine. I tried my hand at one editorial and after realizing it had little to no relevance to a NZ audience, moral dropped and I went back to homework. There are other ideas for books reviews that can be done at my own pace. There's another idea a girl on staff and I came up with, where we assume the voices of other authors critiquing other works, which I'd like to get around to. Just a time thing. I'm considering talking with a girl I know who works for the radio station to see whether or not they have jobs with timetables, as I wouldn't mind coming in to do a shifts' worth of work and learn a few things. 

Since that's all very boring, though, I thought I'd introduce you guys to some of the people that I've been hanging out with, in my dorm and otherwise. Here are some of my favorite people in Auckland:

Theora:

A very cool biology student from Berkley, Theora's a gorgeous pacific islander who I think looks pretty Maori, but I've been reprimanded for this comment so I take it back. The first time I talked to Theora, one of us mentioned how much we miss hip hop, and since then we've updated each other on the various rumors we sometimes hear about where Auckland's elusive hip hop scene resides. She loves American football and used to think she would grow up to be a linebacker for the 49ers. I gave her a football I found at an sports store while looking for an ultimate disc (which I never did). I figured I needed to throw something, and that it was high time I learned how to throw a pigskin. 

Leandre:

Leandre's name is pronounced like the names Leon and Andre fused together. He's from South Africa. I've heard some Kiwi's complain about his thick Afrikaans accent, but I can't hear a thing, and he speaks English pretty well. I like calling him Leon. When I had to ask for a third time what his name was, I decided that if I called him "Leon," that would be close enough to whatever it really was. Leon's an RA for the fifth floor, and is pretty good friends with Kimi, my RA. Leon has a car and likes organizing trips to the beach with me, Theora, Kimi and Spencer. We've gone to Orewa and Piha beach so far. Leon's in his last year at uni and says that's the most times he's ever been to the beach during the semester. Leon helped me steal a sofa from my common room and put it my dorm room.

Corey:

Corey was the first friend I made at the dorms. Born in New Plymouth, NZ and grew up in Michigan, he looks and and acts like a walking, talking slice of all-American apple pie. I haven't seen much of him since he's a pre-med student and I read like a lot, but we've got each other's backs. When a certain young man living in my dorm wouldn't stop making passes at me, Corey twice threatened to beat him up. "Doesn't he know you and your boyfriend are in love? you are in love AND THAT IS SPECIAL!" It's nice when someone

s got your back. 

Bryony:

Bryony is the 8th floor RA and the girl Corey currently has a major crush on. Their torrid love affair is, I believe, the hot rot that's on everybody's minds in the common room. Or maybe by now it's passe. Whatever, she's still an amazingly funny young lady. She is preparing for law school when she graduates from undergrad. She sings like an angel, and is whipsmart. She's lived in India, Indonesia, Khazakstan and London. She taught me how to say the phrase "Y'alright darlin'?" like a randy Pikey. She likes to play Squash. 

Sarin:

Sarin is the only Anthropology student I've ever met who I like. She's from Montreal and graduating this semester, and doesn't yet know whether she'll stay or move back to Canada. She has pink hair and hazel eyes and is very cute. We both want to go see Henry Rollins, but tickets cost $50 bucks. Upon learning this, Sarin sent me a text message that read "I feel like punching him in the face, and yelling 'GENTRIFY THIS!'"Sarin lives in a house with three roommates in Ponsonby. The bedrooms are heeeyuge: 5-meter ceilings, with fireplaces in each. The neighborhood looks like Winetka Hieghts in Dallas, all the houses with scaffolding and dogrun porches. 

Scott:

I don't see much of Scott these days, but he was the young lad I saw Broken Social Scene with. A funny guy with similar enough music tastes, we get along well when we run into each other. 

Anthony:

Anthony moved to Auckland with his family from China four years ago. He is eccentric, excitable, and talks way, way to fast. Despite knowing this, it's hard for him to slow down. He loves the friends that he's made at uni. This is what Anthony wrote on my birthday card: "U know what, I have a dream. I hope I can become a cowboy in Dallas, I hope I can watch basketball. (NBA) in Houston. And driving a viper through Texas to Mexico. And I hope u have a dream. Playing bungy jump in Auckland. Watching glowworms in Waitomos. Of course being crazy. Go to my house to learn some traditional NZ family experience (Hahaha!!!)." And on the reverse side: "Hey Emily, Happy Birthday. A year older. Friends 4ever. Luv u All. Anthony." I don't think I can think highly enough of the guy.

Jordan:

I get J names confused, so i call Jordan "Jason" a lot. He is a nice chap from Seattle living in the dorms and attending Auckland Institute of Technology. He introduced me to one of my favorite Auckland bars, the Shakespeare pub, which I have frequented frequently. 

Trent and Lia:

Trent and Lia work at the Shakespeare, and now have dubbed me a regular. This is a mixed blessing, because now I'm privy to all the seedy little details that go on behind the bar. If you thought dorm gossip was juicy, you've never met a bartender. 

Gabby:

Gabby is a Filipino first year student. I run into her in the kitchen constantly, and that is where our friendship prefers to grow. She has a funny way of pronouncing "chives" (like "cheevs") which I love. Sometimes we let each other borrow our cookery. She is going to podiatry school.

Spencer: 

Spencer is from UT Arlington and lives on the 5th floor with Leon, who, like I said, likes to take us out to the beach. We like to talk about breakfast burritos and guacamole. He likes to teach me how to skateboard, and I like not falling down.

Aaron:

Aaron is a friend of Natasha's, from Hamilton. When I left my shoe's at Tash's place, Aaron picked them up and brought them with him to Auckland and delivered them to me there, which were quite nice of him. Aaron is a photographer, and sometimes he lets me play with his cameras. He had a shoot with Pizza Hut today, and gave me a bunch of cold pizza for which to distribute amongst my dormmates. "Do you know anyone who wants some free pizza?" "Uh, I only know of about 200 underfed undergrads who want some free pizza," I said. 

reeeeeaaading:

Despite the metric ton of reading I have to do, I got to say that I'm enjoying it all, for the most part. It could be my professor talking, but the texts for my NZ lit class seem to be perfect representatives for the era they were written in: FE Manning's "Old New Zealand" is one of the best, most engaging Victorian works I've read; Katherine Mansfield's shorts are some of the most accessible examples of modernism, which is weird when you think of how much clout James Joyce and TS Elliot and Virginia Woolf have been granted. Guess it's that outsider's Islander identity. Lit. and the Contemporary is as much fun. We finished reading "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" and starting "Vince and June," a chick-lit piece that I suppose is serving as a foil for some example set by ELIC. Maori policy and public politics is hard, because race relations is still an uncomfortable topic in NZ. And as bad as we complain about it in the states, it's no where near as awkward as it is in NZ. Politics in the media is difficult to stay awake during, but the tutorial's are pretty good. 

Well. That was fun. Time to stay up a little later and get some work done. 

Lovelovelove,

Ems. 

March 3: First day of class, The Sisters Aberg plan a trip, When’s my birthday?

I guess I haven’t written for a while because I feel like I’ve landed. I feel like I came home. I have a bed, a mini fridge, a bookshelf and the internet; I have a map on the wall outlining my adventure and there’s mad amounts of brochures, tickets and paper that I’ve tacked up to the wall inviting me to various orientations, information that I need to know before class, textbook lists, timetables, bus schedules, concert lists, take-out menus, campus maps. These are the things I would be doing if I were home: buying groceries, working out, meeting friends. I have a normal, every day life, I’ve got some routines, and when you have routines you don’t think about writing them down.

That’s not to say there aren’t a few important things to note that have happened this week. Or last week. Today, for example, was the first day of classes. More importantly, it’s also my birthday, but more on that later.

“Uni”:

Note: a ‘class’ as it’s called in the states, which refers to a whole bunch of people being taught by somebody in a classroom, is not called that in NZed. What we call ‘class’ they call ‘paper,’ so when I refer to how many paper’s I’m taking, I’m not talking about how many assignments I have to write for the next semester. They also don’t use quotation marks properly, opting instead for the up-and-down apostrophe to denote a quote: ‘like this.’

The four papers I’m taking this semester are Media studies, New Zealand literature, Maori politics and public policy, and Politics and the media. Media studies is the only class that won’t go towards the credits I need to earn back home to get the degree, but I figured it might be worth it. What smarts is that I have to take an Academic English proficiency test to take it. Shoot.

I also visited the student magazine office and introduced myself to the editor-in-chief, Dan, the books review editor, Sam, and one of the writers, Natalie. A good group of people. Dan sent me home with a box full of all of last years issues, and some from other years that he quite liked. The articles are fun enough to read, but the best thing about them is surely the cover art. With no set design for the front page layout, they’re free to design it however they want; some issues look like art-house fare, others look like comic book covers, some look like the front of the economist, others look exactly like guide books, others look like girlie mags.

Tripsville:

My sister sarah and I are in the middle of planning her trip over her in April. It turns out that she’ll be able to come visit me then, and I’m looking up trips and planning itineraries for a smaller trip around the south island. We thought she wouldn’t be able to make it, but we worked our schedules out such that she’ll be able to visit. And I can’t wait.

Birfday:

So a New Zealand March 3rd is an American March 2nd, right? So, isn’t my birthday in New Zealand going to be March 4th?

“Who the hell cares,” said Leandre. “We’re taking you out for pizza and beer.”

“Word,” I said.

So a group of about 7 people took me out for some good ol’ good times. We enjoyed ourselves heartily, and then went home at a reasonable hour, it being a Monday night. Thanks to M&D by the way for sending that pink cake recipe. I promise, I’ll let you know as soon as I make it...Heck, as soon as I figure out a way to make it.

I did get a few things for myself: a lambskin rug, which everyone should own, a cute brown dress, and some new kicks. Thanks everybody for the uber thoughtful e-mails and facebook and myspace message. And Matty, thanks again so much for the wonderful present. (This guy! I just love this guy!)

Much love to you guys. And I’ll be better about posting more often. I’ll work it into the routine.

Ems.

Feb 22: Holy cow, can we start school yet?

It feels like much longer than five days since my last post. Not a whole heck of a lot has been going on, besides the sort of stuff that usually happens in the few weeks before school starts. I'm not bored. Much like my south island vacation, there is much to do and much to see, but it is all much less interesting. 

Ah, I shouldn't give it such a hard time. I had some Yum Chow the other day, which is this variation on Dim-Sum, in Chinese restaurants, except for they exclusively serve dumplings. Easily one of the most delicious meals I've had in NZ, and will go back sometime soon. And last night, a friend of mine from the dorm, a first year named Scott and I went to see the Broken Social Scene play at a place called the King's Arm Tavern. It was stuffed to the gills, and practically impossible for us to stand inside. There was a courtyard (with grass and picnic tables and potted plants!) to the side of the bar, and we had drink and danced in that direction. 

After the show, we were invited by our RA's to go clubbing with them, as it was their last night of summer school. But getting in was a pain in the ass, as the lines extended around the block, and apparently in order to go to a club you have to dress up: fancy club dresses for gals, alligator shoes for dudes, etc. So we picked up Scott's girlfriend at the club and walked back to the dorms. 

Yesterday I met a nice girl named Theora, an exchange student from Berkley, California. Today we walked over to the university and went to our exchange student's orientation briefing, and met another girl from Canada (Saren, anthropology student with pink hair) and Emma (I think that's her name...I know she's from England, and I have a tendency to think all English women are named Emma). 

We set up our internet, printing and photocopy accounts today also. The internet account is pretty obnoxious. You must pay for high-speed internet usage; 56k speed is free. I'd be keen to figure out why it's so hard to get fast internet over here. I hear it's just a lack of competitive providers, so the one or two that they do have just slack off. 

The best part about today so was walking past Albert Park and seeing people prepare and set up the Chinese Lantern Festival.  Took a lot of pictures because it's daytime now and I don't know how the nighttime photos will turn out, but head over to the FB page and see 'em. Seriously, they're so pretty, you should really check them out. 

All in all, quite a good day, but I'm ready like rock for school to start.

Lurv, Ems. 

Feb 18: Homesteading, buying things, new neighbors, sore stomachs.

I had arrived at the residence hall the day after it opened up to students moving in for the first semester. I didn’t see anyone in the dorms besides the front desk clerks. I didn’t anticipate meeting too many people, so I spent that first and second day shopping for my new cinderblock pad.

 

New Market to the left of me, K’ Road to the right…:

 

I headed across the street to a smoothie place to see if I could get directions to the closest place that would sell me a surge protector. I would have asked the front desk people, but as English isn’t their first language, it’s a little difficult to understand them. Met a nineteen year old kid who directed me to The Warehouse, New Zealand’s equivalent to Walmart or Target.

 

I don’t really understand why, but it seems most Kiwis I meet are pretty into The Warehouse. Ryan, Tash, and this guy all swore by it, saying you can find anything you want and it’s always super cheap. Which it is. It’s just a pain in the ass to find anything, and like Walmart or Target, most of the items are under stocked or stocked next to items that they shouldn’t be. For example, I wouldn’t think to stock the packaged cookies and candy next to the bleach and laundry soap. I know everything is in it’s own package and has it’s own seal, but it’s just one of those strong consumer preferences.

 

I made three trips there and back, buying a laundry basket, coffee maker, fly swatter, thumbtacks, tape, pencils, pencil holders, etc. passing the Auckland Domain and getting to know the New Market area pretty well in the process. The Auckland Domain is a very big, very green lawn at the back of which sits a big museum. It’s big enough to play three cricket games and a rugby match at once, and there’s an old-fashioned stadium and bleachers set up opposite the Museum as well.

 

New Market is a high-end fashion district, with lots of stores and a mall. The only thing that makes this mall worth mentioning is that on the second floor, in the farthest section, is the grocery store (which is called “Foodtown,” which I find hilarious.) Procured some essential food items, i.e. fruit, sandwich fixin’s and cereal.

 

To the right (east) side of my dorm is the Grafton bridge and then downtown Auckland. The bridge spans over an old, ancient graveyard and then turns into the Karangahape (or K’, as lots of people around here call it) Rd. The University of Auckland campus is about a twenty-minute walk south from here, but it (and the New Market as well) are easily accessible from the Link bus route. 

 

Dormmates and Randoms:

 

“Random,” btdubbs, is Kiwi slang for strangers, i.e. “a random person,” or “random people.” It’s a pretty popular term, and I quite like it, and since my life feels pretty influenced by them, I think that’s how I’ll refer to this expanding group of unrelated people who keep changing my life on an hourly basis.

 

I also met up with a friend of Tash’s, Aaron, a photographer who lives in Auckland. He and his girlfriend Sofia hung out with me after returning my shoes (which I’d left at Tash’s house, and she’d asked him to deliver them to me in Auckland). We got dinner and they took me to a Jazz festival later on in the evening at the other end of Auckland. A whole park and three blocks of restaurants were closed off to traffic as heaps, HEAPS of people milled around listening to various jazz band’s set up around town. It was what I had imagined the Busker’s festival in Christchurch to be like: stalls of musicians, bands, playing blues, bluegrass, swing, reggae, and straight up jazz standards up and down the street. Old people dancing, young high school kids crawling all over the place, street vendors…it was nuts. Literally thousands of people. Dad, you shoulda seen it.

 

Sometime during my third day of dorm living, I shared an elevator with a first-year named Cory, a guy who made it point to say that even though he spoke with an American midwest accent, his parents were both Kiwi’s and he himself was a New Zealand citizen and had multiple family members all over the Auckland area. He’s a nice kid, and invited me and another foreign exchange student (Brahim from France) to his aunt’s house for dinner and a BBQ. He reminds me a lot of Richard, one of my best friends from Dallas. We bought memberships to the gym, which I believe will ultimately prove itself to be a wise investment. But not until after my abdominal muscles heal and cease to feel like Wolverine from the X-Men has gone to town on them with his shiny claws. Oh my God, I will never go that long without exercising ever again. It just hurts too much. 

 

I spent some time figuring out the bus system, which is relatively easy. I had feared the worse after hearing a lot of Kiwis complain about how confusing it is, but it’s really not that bad once you understand several things. Auckland is very small, in terms of it’s size and population (only 1.5 million people, and that’s more than a quarter of all of New Zealand.) Instead of having one public transportation service run by the city, as would be the case in America, there’s several bus companies servicing different areas. These companies all have their own routes. The Link bus, for example, is the bus line which route my dorm is closest to. That’s good for me, because the Link circuit goes to most of the places I want to go; the university, the grocery store, and the shopping district. Most bus stops even have electronic bulletin boards indicating how long it is until the next bu arrives.

 

In Other News:

 

-       Tash invited me back down to Hamilton for the weekend and I may have to take her up on it.

-       Finally heard back from Karolina, who is well and safe and looking for work in Picton.

-       Have talked to Matt several times, who’s been considerate enough to repost all those pictures I posted on Facebook to a more accessible site; will have more on that later.

-       I’m also posting more photos of my dorm and pic’s from the festival on FB. I have a feeling the one or two-sentence anecdotes and descriptions below the pictures are going to be more interesting than today’s blog entry.

 

Goodnight, guys.

Love, Em.

Feb 12: Strangers and swimholes, dinner parties and dancing

"A stranger's just a friend you haven't made yet!":

Smart, slightly paranoid girls like myself tend to hate that phrase. It demands that we ignore a caution so basic we would be idiots not to heed: men are crazy and sometimes they want to kill you for sadistic, possibly sexual reasons.

Despite spending essentially a month with a guy who was once a stranger and going to places for no reason than a friendly stranger suggested we head there, I was not about to let down my guard. As Matt's car drove away, I immediatly sized up the situation: Karolina and I are reasonably fit, and this guy--despite his huge biceps and 6-foot frame--is basically jsut a string bean. We could easily take him down if things got rough or seedy and we needed an out. I had already looked at a list of other backpacker's places in Hamilton, knew where the bus station was, and figured I could make do with just my orange back with my laptop and my purple purse if the chips came down and we had to run for it. Karolina had all of her essentials in her purse, I was pretty sure, so if ever one of us saw the knife or the roofies we'd grab the other by her wrist, snatch the bag with the passport and run like crazy down Queen street towards the train station.

But it turned out none of my brilliant get-away schemes ever came to pass. Andy, an out-of-work lawyer who had taken a year off to travel all over South America and some other parts of the world, turned out to be quite a stable fellow. Not just that, but he and his friend Natasha were simply the best, most friendly hosts and tourguides turned friends we could have asked for.

Andy Let us leave our bags at his house that he was subletting and currently renovating. As he had a few more chorse to finish up, he invited us to check out the park and the lake, which was about an hours walk, and by that time he'd be done with one set of chores and would be ready to drop us and our stuff off at Natasha's (henceforth known as Tash) house.

Karolina and I spent the whole hour talking and making each other laugh and sizing up the situation:

"So do you feel scared?"

"Not anymore, he seems like a nice guy."

"Yeah, I really like that he's a lawyer."

"But he's also unemployed and spent a year traveling."

"Yeah, strange for a lawyer."

"But that kind makes me think he's OK."

"Me too!"

We walked around the lake and then wound up back where we started, and right around then Andy drove by in his car to pick us up and take us over to Tash's.

Unfortunately, she wasn't there, and Andy didn't have a spare key. SO we hung out for about 30 minutes, talking and such, and then he had more errands to do, so we walked off over to the other park and played there for a while.

"I feel really bad about this, shooing you guys off to parks!" he said. "We're going to have a great BBQ later, I promise, you'll love it!"

So we walked back to another park, got some soda, played on some swings, got dizzy on the carousel, talked about boys, talked about Matt, talked abuot the boy she left in Germany, and about an hour and half later we wandered back to Tash's house, wondering if maybe she was home yet.

We walked in front of the open sliding door and I saw a girl sitting in front of a computer and waved. She waved back. Yes! Oh wait! She still didn't know who I was!

"Hey!" I called. "Are you Andy's friend?"

"Oh! Yeah! Are you the little couch surfers from Germany?"

And then things went swimmingly from there. Andy came back and we went to the super market to pick up sausages and a salad for the BBQ, and we went back to Tash's friend's house, where we got a recomendation to head up to Waikato and see some springs.

We hung out and ate for about two hours, talking about the trip, where we were from, where we were headed, Texas, Germany, Hamilton itslef (which all kiwi's seemed to agree was a boring industrial town) and cracking jokes about everything.

We later went back to Tash's and had some more drinks, and more people ame over. Got to meet Tash's boyfriend, Chris, and her roommate, Dippy, and a bunch of other people who floated in and out for the whole evening. A few drinks and conversatios later, it was suggested we walk 15 minutes into town and visit a few dance clubs. Andy told us we didn't have to go, shouldn't feel pressured into going, etc etc. But Karolina and I looked at each other and both agreed we wanted to go, but only if the other person went. And so we did.

You! Me! Dancing!:

We hit up four clubs and stayed at two. Because there's not much natural stuff to do in Hamilton, like surfing or hiking or enjoying the fresh air, the city makes it up to its dwellers by having the most concentrated area of bars of all the New Zeland cities. They all esentially share the same courtyard area. Imagine ten houses sharing the same back yard, and that's kind of what it's like. And nobody's parents are home. It was like crashing a Prom Dance, and we had an awesome time.

The next day, we were supposed to get to Karolina's train at 10:00 and I was going to get to my bus at 10:10. But Karolina's train wasn't in commission, and so she decided to stay an extra day. I was starting to feel protective of Karolina, like and older sister or a cousin, and I wanted to hang out with her until I knew where she was going and how she was going to get there. So we both decided to wait until her train left Hamilton, two days later, untill we left.

The Best Hosts Ever:

So we spent the rest of that day going to Rotorua, where there's an abundance of sulferic springs and boiling mud. The steam's so big and thick and moist it rolls off of the surface of the water like cumulous clouds. The boiling mud pits looked like a caldron of which's brew. And all this we got to see for free, since ndy was a NZ tour guide at one point and knew all the best touristy places to go. We swam for free, saw the pits for free, and later that night, we swam in a second springs for free.

The second one was such an intense experience. We got there late at night, at about 10:00. Pitch black and with nothing but Andy's flashlight on his cell phone to guide us, we parked the car and walked about twenty steps to a big, shallow pond. We could barely see anything, except for the flashlight.

This particular spring was pecial because it was fed by one hot and one cold spring. The result was a lovely cool pool of water with intense and frequent pockets of heat, perfect for chilly summer nights in NZ.

It was amazing. wewere just four shapes in the water, talking, laughing, relaxing, getting sared every now and then from the shadows and the yelling possums. You couldn't see them, but you could hear them advance and shriek.

Later, aroudn 12:30 during the car ride home, Karolina and I sat in the back and the four of us passed around a chocolate bar and listened to music. At one point Karolina turned to me and said "I really love this moment." I felt very much the same.

Maxin' and relaxin':

The next day as designated chill out day: check e-mails, make phone calls, and head out to the Hamilton botanical gardens. Andy worked all day but Tash showed us the seven or eight country-themed gardens: the english garden, the american, the italian, chinese, indian, japanese, etc. So much fun, and so pretty considering it's a free park, open to the public and whatever events they want to throw. Even weddings. Tash's sibligns have all been married in each of the gardens, at no cost. So sarah, maybe we should jsut have the wedding here and fly everyone to NZ? Eh? Eh?

Later at home, Tash made gourmet pizza and Karolina made Polish Cake, which had a number of names: yeast cake, breakfast cake, bread cake...Super yummy meal, and good times were had by all.

The next day we went into Waikato and after about an hour of wandering around in the wrong place and walking for 30 minutes in an abandoned train tunnel, we found the spring's Tash's friends recomonded we visit at the BBQ. To get to it, we had to walk 15 minutes over two rope swing bridges and through a cave of glow worms--which, when yuo see them in a cave, emit little pin pricks of blue light and look like stars. Apparently they're just wormy slugs, but i tried not to think about that.

We landed in front of an amazing sight: two waterfalls, on coming from another cave, and falling into a perfect pond. We jumped off rocks and ate plums and cadbury choclate bars, and it was perfect.

So Long, Hamiltron:

That was yesterday. Today we woke up early to get to Karolina's train and to my bus, and I was almost as sad as when Matt left. We exhanged numbers and information and promised to see each other before Karolina's six months were up and my semester is over.

I made it into Auckland, safe and sound, and got to my dorm room and finally, FINALLY put my bags away and my clothes in a closet and fell into my bed, just soon enough to ignore the ugliness of the room. Cinderblocks, tiny windows, ugly carpet, etc. etc.

Today was a boring mix of nesting and buying things. I'm going to have to purchase an internet plan, look into my phone situation and figure out why I can't set up my voice mailbox, and abunch of other boring stuff.

Hopefully it will all pick up tomorrow. I guess a few down days can't be all that bad.

Feb 10th: The West Coast crawl; So Long South Island; The Fourth Chapter.

Leaving Queenstown:

We left the Crown Plaza around noon, reluctant to part with the thousand-thread-count sheets but ready to hostel hop further up the West coast. We took our time leaving Queenstown and visited several wineries before turning north. Had an amazing lunch at one, where we had a prepared three course lunch which included salad, salmon and pork belly, which is like if bacon and steak hooked up and had a crispy, succulent baby. Seriously, that good.

New Zealand, of course, makes a lot of wine, but it makes it mostly for export. We heard several times that there's no way Kiwi's could drink the amount of wine their country produces amongst themselves. Kiwi wine makers will also tell you New Zealand is famous for it's Pinot Noirs and the growing conditions here are perfect, as well as it's Pinot gris or chardonnay, I forget which. But it's white. And while those are all very fine, we found ourselves more partial to the rieslings, so we picked up a few bottles to send home. (Mom and Dad, if all goes according to plan, you'll have a pretty rad souvenir on your doorstep soon enough.) 

Greysmouth:

We sobered up with a cheese platter and more ice cream, and proceeded to head north to Greysmouth. We stayed, as is our steez, in a small town 30 minutes south of the city, which doesn't have a lot, we were told, except for shops and restaurants. We did find out that the original Montieth's brewery is in Greysmouth, so we continued our theme of drinking small portions of lots of alcoholic beverages and walking it off. Found a nice place for a pizza, ate pizza, proceeded back to the hostel where we made hamburgers. Quite tasty. 

After two nights at Birdsong, our hostel near Greysmouth, and after being told for the millionth time "You really should get a BBH card" from every backpacker, I finally caved and bought a subscription. Budget Backpacker Hostels is a network of nearly 400 hostels in New Zealand, with ratings and descriptions. You get a pamphlet with all the hostel information and a free phone card and $2-$4 discounts on each night you stay, and it's way, way more helpful than the Lonely planet hostel lists. For one, the people running BBH hostels are way more likely to point you in the direction of other awesome hostels. The old motel in Oamaru pointed us towards the hostel in Dunedin, and the people at Birdsong directed us towards this awesome place in a tiny town called Hector that wasn't even in the Lonely Planet guide. Totally worth it. 

Getting to Hector:

We got a recommendation from the people at Birdsong to hit up a place in Hector called The Old Slaughterhouse. The only snag, she said, was that the hostel couldn't be reached by car. You had to park your car at the bottom of a hill and hike your way up ten minutes. We called to make reservations and the guy, David, said he could pick our stuff up on his small four-wheeler if we could hike up the trail, but not to worry, because the ocean views would be worth it. 

So we left the next day, waking up around 7:00 in order to see the the Pancake Rock formations, a unique formation, the only one of it's kind, and the pancake rock blow holes, which shoot water like geysers at high tide. Unfortunatly, high tide was sometime around 9:00, and we were two hours away. Matt was a real champ about this, as I wanted to get there early to make sure we didn't miss the blow holes, a phrase not many people are keen to hear. 

Pancake rocks themselves are very Dr. Seussian in nature. They look like the goofy towers in his made-up citys, all layers and full of windows, peaking at peculiar points, and in general don't make much sense, but are pretty fun to look at, as it's the same kind of feeling I think you'd get if you were to walk through a picture book. But it was cold, rainy and window, so we passed through it pretty quick. 

We got to the Slaughterhouse around midday after stopping for a killer breakfast at this yellow cafe run by an American from South Orange, New Jersey, who moved to New Zealand and decided to start up her own cafe when she realized there was nowhere to eat. 

(Side note: It's a lot of fun to meet foreigners in New Zealand, as we've all got our favorite foods we miss and love to cook. You really get a feel for it in the hostels, watching people make their favorite pasta dishes or cooked vegetables or whatever. Matt loved to point out that every german we met missed yogurt and german bread so much, and almost everyone had their own favorite bread recipe.)

So we get to the old slaughterhouse, and this intense mountain mad rolls down to greet us. He's super friendly, ties our bags to the bag of his four wheeler, and totes them up the side of the mountain, and we head up the hillside, with nothing but our good faith to tell us we'd see our bags soon. 

The path zigzagged and hairpinned the entire way up, and ten minutes later we were looking at a completely secluded compound of about three wooden cabins. We learned that David had built the entire place with help from his sons. A former sheep shearer, this is how he lives and spends his time: tending to back packers and keeping up the place, which is goregeous. Reminded me of Dad's friends on Whiteby Island in Washington state. 

We spent the day taking a five hour walk to see the waterfalls, then got dinner. But we didn't make it back before dark, unfortunately, so we had to walk that ten minute hike up the switchback trail in the dark, with nothing but iPods to light the way. We would be scared, but we were pretty used to this sort of thing. 

I See Spiders When I Close My Eyes!:

Unfortunately, we bagen running out of time. We ran our next couple of travel plans by David, who said we'd never be able to do what we wanted to do in the amount of time we had. At that point, Matt had two days till he had to leave, and we still wanted to see the Golden Bay and Able Tasman Park. He figured he could push his flight back one more day and buy some time. So we shimmied up north and stayed at a place called Shambala in the North part of the golden Bay. 

We picked this place because we had yet to stay in a one of the Eco-friendly hostels. Curious to know whether or not we could survive on solar power and dying to know what a biodegradable toilet looks like, we booked two nights. 

Oh man. The bugs were everywhere. I love the sounds of cicadas, but the boom of these bugs was so loud that we had a hard time talking to each other. New Zealand only has one poisonous spider (and it's not even that poisonous; it won't kill you, for example, but your limb may swell up), the Whitetail, and we saw our first Whitetail near our cabin. And it turns out that a biodegradable toilet is just Hippy for Litter Box. (Sarah, you know that particular brand of litter you love, Feline Pine? It's a lot like that.)

The best part of our stay here was the Mussel Inn, a hippy bar that brewed its own beer and had wicked awesome mussels. Also saw an awesome be-dreaded hippy chick named Lauren Kate sing and play guitar. She did an amazing cover of Radiohead's "no alarms, no surprises," literally so good I stopped where I stood and had to listen. Matt bought the albums and got one of them signed, thus making the Hippy's day. 

I Left My Heart (And Stomach) In The South Island:

The next day we left from The Golden Bay and just barely, barely, by the hair of our teeth, as Matt put it, made it to Picton to reach the ferry. The train left at 2:25, and boarding time was 1:30. We walked the boardwalk after dropping off the rental car and loading all of our loose bags and such at about 2:20. The whole thing went off nearly without a hitch, until Matt looked up at me and we realized that in my haste to pack up all the loose items in the car--iPods, wallets, socks, etc--I'd forgotten to pack the Nintendo, which I'd been playing with in the front seat and left in the glove compartment. 

"Shit," I said. 

Matt kept a level head (mind you, he kept said head the entire trip to the ferry--as I'm freaking out and convinced we're not going to make it and that we'd be better off paying the $200 fee to board the car or ditching it in the parking lot instead of returning it to the rental station, he reminded me that the worst that could happen would be we'd just catch the next ferry and stay in Picton for three hours. No big.) and called the car station and arranged it such that the car rental guys could leave the game boy with the next ferry headed to Wellington, and we'd pick it up later.

The game boy incident turned out to be not the least of our worries. Upon arrival, we realized that the car rental places were closed for the most part, and the only one open had one manual stick shift left. So we had to catch a taxi to the airport to pick up a rental car there. And we got our car, we decided to check out what looked like a great malaysian restaurant, highly recommended by the Lonely Planet, only to find out that it no longer existed. 

Although it was a tough night in Wellington though, we stayed at one of the nicest back packer's places we've been, with more killer views, just outside Wellington, and with an amazing Mediterranean breakfast place close by that had some of the best food I've had in NZ. 

Driving North:

Unfortunately we couldn't stay in Wellington long before heading up to Raglan, a surfing town an hour west of Hamilton, New Zealand's largest inland city. And it was in this hostel where we met some more amazing Germans, stayed up late to talk and made plans to surf the next day, before Matt had to leave, for real this time. 

I was pretty wiped out from one day of surfing, so the second day, the one we were to spend surfing with the Germans (Karolina, Tobias and Stefan) just Matt and the two other boys decided to surf. Karolina and I spent three hours sitting on the beach and talking about everything I haven't been able to talk about with a girl for the last four weeks. We both had been traveling around with people we'd met in New Zealand, And Karolina decided to part ways with the two boys, who wanted to stay in Raglan surfing for another ten days. She wanted to get to Hamilton so that she could go down to Wellington, which was lucky for me because I wanted to go to Hamilton too. Matt and I were able to offer her a ride and in exchange she was able to offer me a place to stay for the night while I planned a bus trip to Auckland. 

The Last Road Trip, For Real This Time:

The drive to Hamilton was awful. Once it was over, it would mean that my time in New Zealand with matt would be over, and I wasn't ready for that to be over. What with four days of goodbyes, niether of us really felt like ourselves anymore. 

Karolina and I were staying with some people she met through a traveler's networking website called couchsurfing.com. After paying a fee to join, users can meet hosts who will open up their homes and sofas to people traveling who need a place to sleep for the night. It sounded weird, but Tobias and Stefan had done it before and known people that had couch-surfed all across Europe, and Karolina had done it twice before with good results. 

So this was the car trip. I'm in the passenger side, and next to me is the guy I've been traveling with for three weeks straight, the guy I've been hanging out with every hour of the day, flying by the seat of our pants across the south island of New Zealand, planning every day as it begins and falling asleep convinced that Today was the Best Day. In that back seat is the girl I've been hanging out with all day at the beach, who is funny and smart and charming and sweet, and who I'm leaving the boy in the driver's seat for. A girl with a whole knew set of adventures. 

We drove up to Andy's place and Karolina got out of the car. I picked up my purse from the floor of the car and stopped.

"I hate this. This sucks," I said. And what I'm really thinking is that I can't believe how quickly everything has happened, how much has happened, and that it wouldn't have turned out like this if I hadn't missed that train in Picton. "I can't believe it's over."

And Matt said something he said to me a day or so earlier. "This is chapter four: first you arrived in new zealand, then you arrived in the south island and then you met me," He said. "I'm not sure how the fourth installment begins, but this is where it does."

I nodded, I got my things out of the car, gave him a last hug good-bye, and watched the car drive away. 

To be continued. 

Jan 30: Queenstown, Millford Sounds, Adventuresville

Here are some fun facts about Queenstown:

When you're in New Zealand and people ask you if you've gone to Queenstown, they're really asking whether or not you've gone bungie jumping, canyon diving, or flown a jet. Those are just some of your many x-treme entertainment options in Queenstown. 

I asked Matt why any city in the world would be want to be known for hosting the most extreme sports in the world. Aren't the liabilities off the charts, I asked?

"No," Matt said, "Because there are no litigation laws."

This seemed like a dumb answer, because I'm from America, where you can sue people for hurting your feelings. And people have actually passed out and died from some of these activities. Seems like the place is rife withe the possibility of being sued for gross negligence. 

"Not so," said Matt, "no litigation laws." 

He offered more explanation, but I didn't really follow. We opted for the less extreme activities, like luging and jet boating. It seemed smartest to stick to ground-floor activities. 

A Quiet Day In Queenstown:

We were feeling a little subdued after our romp at the Asylum Lodge. There is no way extreme sports can top the friends you make in haunted houses and the dolphins you swim with surfing in secluded beaches. Nonetheless, we seized the day and took a series of gondolas to the top of a very, very steep mountain up to a luge spot. 

Luging is like go-carting but cooler. You sit in a sled with handle bars and break by letting go or pulling back on the handle bars. Because the mountain top is really steep, you've got no trouble getting momentum. We bought three rides and I passed Matt on the third. It was awesome. 

Got done with our business at the top of the mountain and went to the jet boat place. A jet boat is a lot like a roller coaster car on water. It's this massive flat-bottomed boat that can go in water as shallow as 10 cm (like 4 inches.) And the steering is insanely sensitive, so the driver was able to buzz by the sides of these cliffs and do 360-degree turns in the middle of the narrowest cavern I've ever seen. Very, very fun. 

Fjords!:

Yesterday we decided to pile into the car and drive 5 hours to Millford Sounds and back. This is in the Fjordlands, somewhere I really, really wanted to see on this trip but didn't think I would. And it is INCREDIBLY worth it. On the drive there, we saw glaciers, lakes, planes, PAROTS (seriously, there's some kind of rock-parrot that lives in New Zealand that's the southern-most dwelling parrot in the world, and it's a weird, mossy looking little fella about the size of a large rooster), waterfalls, caves, and the Tasman Sea. Matt got us tickets for a ferry/cruise/boat tour of the fjords (which I renamed MillFjiord Sounds...haha, get it?) and we also got a rare glimpse of some of the yellow-eyed penguins. The ferry driver pulled a stunt like our jet-boat driver when he nudged the boat underneath a waterfall. But that was fun also. 

And That Brings Us To Today:

Today we're leaving the Crown Plaza and headed towards the Franz Josef Glaciers, and will hostel-hoping some more. We're probably going to swing by some wineries on our way out, as the Otago region is also Winesville, NZ. 

Much love, and I'll talk to you guys later. Ems.

Jan 28: Small towns, big rooms, buskers, penguins, and haunted hostels.

Ok, we've got a lot to cover today.

We arrived in Christchurch and mostly just crashed. It was windy, cold, rainy, and there were no buskers. And once again, nowhere good to eat or grab a beer. Most of the day was spent bookshop hopping and once we destroyed the umbrella the hotel had given us, we shuddered back inside. Matt and I figured we would just leave the next day when the weather reports seemed to promise much of the same. Mat called downstairs to see what tomorrow would looks like. 

"He says it's 'turning better,'" Matt said once he got off the phone. "But he didn't say what that means."

But while the day started out soggy, by midday it was New Zealand gorgeous, with a bright blue sky and warm i the sun and just right for a jacket in the shade. And the buskers had come out, and a lot of good acts seemed to be playing later that night. So we decided to stick it out for another night in the greater Christchurch area, really commit this time to finding a good place to eat and grab a beer and head out the next day. 

Finding a place:

The hostels in Christchurch were all packed, so we were worried we would be boned out of finding a place to stay for the night. Unwilling to go back to the hotel (because that's cheating and expensive) we found a place about 17 k's away from the city, in a little harbor town called Lyttleton, known around the world for it's Timeball. And while we never got a proper description of what a Timeball is, we learned that it sets every day at 1:00 p.m.

The place we found, Tunnelvision Backpackers, was attached to a small gourmet food store and cafe, so we had not only the best night, but the best food. Glorious.

Carnies:

The buskers were out and about. The first guy we saw swallowed swards and looked like an underfed version of Chris Angel. Two American's did a cool juggling act where the man walked a tightrope across his wife's open legs and juggled knives. a little intense, considering he was also wearing a chicken suit. Third lady we say had a hilarious communist schtick, and berated her volunteers the entire time while singing "I did it my way."

He found our hostel, then came back, figuring we'd see the stand-ups at seven, but then were told that part of the festival was in a different city, about 15 minutes away. "Fuckin' a," we said, then got some dinenr and tried to figure out if we felt like driving that far. We did, and when we got there the doors had already closed and we had to talk our way in, telling the lady all sorts of things: "We really want to be here, but we got lost, and we came to Christchurch all the way from america, and we didn't know it was out of town..." and eventually she let us in for a twenty. Hilarious show, good times for all, so glad we went.

Driving to Dunedin:

We stopped in a small town that I think is called Orahua but is known for it's penguins. We learned that the further south you go, the older the island is; this is the part of New Zealand that was settled by the Scottish, because the mountains an the ocean reminded them of home. Also, they couldn't push their way north, where land is a little more stable and easy to roam, because the Maori (pronounced "mowry" with a rolled r, thanks Dad) wouldn't let them. 

Much like Christchurch, the town of Orahua was just as unwelcoming. Spooky, gloomy, wet, and rainy. But we got some amazing dinner that sustained us until morning when we had it again for breakfast. The place we stayed in was an old hotel from 1860's, and was even more fun to stay in than Lyttleton. The guy was super helpful, and the next day directed us to a cool place to stay in outside of Dunedin, the Asylum Lodge. 

"Wonder why it's called 'Asylum,'" we asked ourselves eventually. We settled ourselves thinking it called that becuase the place must be a safe haven, a bit of a pastoral, restorative hideaway. 

The Asylum Lodge:

After driving past it once and going about 20 k's out of the way, we find our way up this beautiful driveway and through a large swing gate. This is already way different than any place we've stayed, being totally in the country. We drive past six or seven beautiful chestnut horses and two huge white buildings. one is filled with old cars, ford falcons, and thunderbirds and volkswagon vans. Another is just empty, but it looks like a large, vacant stable. We drive up next to a next of little chicks and a hen and a rooster. 

"This is pretty," we say. 

We check inside, and have to leave our shoes at the door. We get a tour of the place, which is big, roomy, bright and spacious. There's a full-sized palm tree that's taken over the living room, the walls are a bright cheery yellow, and our room has a chest of drawers. I swoon, because I miss drawers. There's surfing for $10 in the morning. 

"Awesome!" we say. 

We decide to drive two girls into town, two nice enough American girls who've finsihed with their stay and were moving on. As we're driving to the gate, one of them turns around and says "Hey! THERE'S the morgue!"

"The what?" we ask. 

"That's the old morgue the owners told us about, where they used to put the patients," one of them said. "Didn't they tell you what this place used to be?"

"...No."

"THAT'S why it's called The Asylum Lodge," she said. 

"...Oh."

"...You guys want to check it out?" one asked. "We totally don't have to if you're in a hurry--"

No, we say, it would be interesting, we're up for it, and it's the last day these girls are in town, and exploring it could be kind of...fun? Whatever, we're game. 

We walk inside, and it succeeds in creeping the shit out of us. Happy to leave, we drive into Dunedin and drop the girls off. 

Dunedin:

...Is very, very pretty. There's an old town square, called the Pentagon, because it's not shaped like a square. Got 8 sides, you see. Anyways, it's quite gorgeous, because on one end is an old, gorgeous cathedral, and on the other is the oldest train station in New Zealand, both of which look like gingerbread house. We eat at a tapas bar which easily has the best food we've eaten in NZ. Service was a tad slow, so three and a half hours later we roll back.

Some Haunted Tomfoolery:

we roll back to the Asylum Lodge at 12:30, unaware of any curfew. Once we arrive at the gate, we see a huge padlock. We swear softly once, and then wonder what to do. Matt turns to me and says "I think it's pretty clear what we do."

"Sleep in the car?"

"No, we got to jump the fence."

Matt decides to go over the fence and try to find someone who's awake that will unlock the gate so that we can pull the car up. I check the clock and tell myself that if he doesn't come back in twenty minutes...I'll think of something. I don't have my phone, so I can't call anyone, I just have to think of something.

Lucky for me, he comes back with a flashlight. No one's up, but he's found a light, and we'll just have to jump and walk. 

"Whatever you do, don't look in the windows."

So I look in the windows.

Pretty spooky. 

We survive, make it into the room, and fall asleep. 

Queenstown:

So now, we're here, in Queenstown, adventure capital of the world. Matt's dad decided to be very, very nice to us and we're staying a Crown Plaza suite. It's quite a switch, and it's a little weird to be in the lap of luxury in the craziest city in the world trying to get a little R&R. Spent most of today getting errends done, paying the first of God knows how many tuition fees will wind up paying, hope it's not much, and possibly doing some more laundry. 

Super exciting!

Much love to you guys, and I'll talk to you later. 

Ems. 

Jan 21: Trains, road trips, hikes, and Ze Germans.

I'd first like to apologize for any upset stomachs and sleepless nights I might have caused by not posting recently. Suffice to say, a lot has happened. 

Leaving Wellington:

After parting ways with Ryan, the buddy I made on the train ride from Auckland to Wellington, I stuck around in Wellington for a few days, getting sicker and getting over my burn--not attending the Police concert, much to Dad's disappointment. I booked a ferry from Wellington to Picton the next day at seven. 

Since check-out at the YHA hostel was at eleven, I had some time to burn. Lucky me, I was able to check my bags early at the ferry station while i founds something to do. Imagine how extra lucky I felt when I looked across the street and saw New Zealand's government buildings. There they were, towering before me: The Beehive, New Zealand's seat of executive and representative power, the house of commons, and the parliamentary library. Tours were an hour long, so I figured that was a good way to burn some time and prime myself for the two political studies classes I'll be taking in the semester:

Highlights of the Parliamentary Tour:

1. New Zealand wants to make laws and put them into practice efficiently. Nothing shall get in the way of this, not even it's own government, which was why the high form of the representative body (the equivalent of the British House of Lords) was abolished in the 1950's. "They just didn't need it anymore," according to the tour guide.

2. the Maori themed conference room is where most negotiating between parties takes place. It's decorated with traditional and contemporary maori artist carvings, and is quiet stately. A lot of maori and english gets spoken in the room, again, according to the tour guide, which is why there are special booths for interpreters in the room.

3. Natural disasters seem to burden it's government. Both the parliamentary library and the house burned down in separate fires, and had to be rebuilt. New Zealand's founding documents were lost and suffered considerable water damage in a lock box for years, and the originals are all but completely destroyed.

Ferry Ride:

...Was gorgeous. Cold and windy, but gorgeous. First you go out among the islands and the leave the North island, and you start to wonder whether or not the south island is really prettier than the north, because it's been so nice. What if it's just feel of hippies? What if the mountains aren't as nice as everyone says?

It's even more amazing, though. It was dusk, and colder and windier than before, but floating in at night made the sounds look like a Scandinavian dream town. 

I got to the hostel at night, and when I woke up, Picton had changed. It's kind of an ugly industrial town, contrasting horribly with the incredible beautiful islands surrounding it. The sounds are beautiful; the next day I took a four hour hike on the snout track. That was killer beautiful. Walked all the way back and fell asleep. Met up with a guy name Matt from San Francisco who was going to drive to Christchurch the next day, the same day I was going to take a train, which was leaving early the next day.

Would up being good for me, as I unwittingly missed my train, and he was willing to drive me down there. Which also wound up being better than the train ride. The road to Christchurch hugs the coast line: black sand beaches and seals. Lots and lots of seals. We got out of the car and took a lot of pictures of them. 

We made it down to Christchurch and had the best food we've eaten in New Zealand. I've decided that New Zealand has probably the worst food of anywhere I've been. It's pastey, floury, blob-esque and gross. Wierd considering it's organics-ville. I had seafood stew a few days ago and felt like I was eating sweaty seafood in bread dough. Maybe we just hadn't eaten in a long time and it tasted amazing. Either way, it tasted amazing. 

I love you guys, and I'll write more tomorrow. I am sleepy now though, and will try to write sooner. And I don't know how to help you out with the phone calls. That's my number. I'll swing by a Vodaphone outlet and see what the deal is. 

Good night, sweet dreams. Love, Emily. 

....And I just lost that last long entry I just wrote.

...Perfect. 

Well, you should have been there. Several thousand characters of beautiful description of Northland scenery, hip stuff in Wellington, the buddy I made on the train, the sickness, the health; I'd rewrite it all, but I'm to cranky right now. So much for auto-save. 

Yeeeeeeesh I'm tired!

A thirteen hour train ride, disturbingly beautiful scenery, a buddy from the Bay of Islands, and wandering up and down Wellington...I'm exhausted, hungry, and stuffy, so this post will be short. I did figure out how to upload photos on iPhoto, and am trying to import an entire album rather than al 130 my hand, but no dice so far. 

I'm going to try to grab a ferry into Picton, the city on the south island that receives ships crossing the Cook Strait (the strait between the North and South islands). But I also got a wicked sunburn, despite using what I thought was plenty of sunscreen, so I don't know how keen I am on hauling a bag on burned shoulders and traveling. May spend tomorrow relaxing and trying to upload photos. 

And Skyping. If you guys can really put aside some time tomorrow to Skype, then let's give each other a call (I'm guessing around 7, 8 your time? Just lemme know.)

Love, Em.

The Way to Wellington

I booked a train ride to Wellington that leaves tomorrow at 7:25 AM and arrives twelve hours later. I'm staying at the YHA Hostel, which I hope is a little smaller than the slick Auckland Centeal Backpacker's. This time, booked a female-only room with 6 other beds.

Love, Ems

Jan 14: Departures, arrivals, roommates, medicine, sushi.

Traveling:

The first leg of the journey took me to Los Angeles Airport, where my friend Walker picked me up and we drove to Redlands for the evening. Walker, who woke up with a bronchial infection, asked if it was ok to spend the night in Redlands. Not sure if I wanted too, he pointed out that people wanted to see me and that it would be easier on him, since he had a class to attend and another to teach. My friend Hurshini was teaching his first class Effects of Consumerism on Cultures. 

"Won't it be distracting if I'm there on her first day of class?" I asked Walker. "I'd have a hard time keeping focused."

He thought it over. "You should definitely come to class."

After Hurshini's class (which went quite well, despite a semi-slow start brought on by feminine gushing) I got dinner with a few other friends, who hadn't known I was coming. Then I sat in on Walker's class--Magazine Practicum--next to Nyssa, in the common room of one of the dorms. Good conversation was had quietly between introductions and questions about class and the syllabus. Good drinks and good vibes were shared for the rest of the evening, as well as a hearty round of Flo Rida's "Low" (Special thanks to Ashley, Jordan, Alecia, and everyone else who helped imortalize the moment!)

After spending the night on Walker's couch, we left the next day for LAX at 3:00 p.m. in order to get to the 9:45 p.m. flight to Auckland. With plenty of time, we managed to hit every major traffic jam and still have time for a bathroom break at his father's house. Super-sport that he is, Walker agreed to have one last drink with me in the airport despite having gotten sicker during the night. We parted ways at about 8:00 p.m., and I made my way to my gate. 

It seems that LAX is busier after dark. I was almost worried I might not make it through security in time, remembering the time-consuming check-point at DFW (with it's bomb sniffing, particle-collection booth and mega x-ray that takes twenty minutes to capture an image...) Luckily it was one of the older machines and I made it through in about five minutes. Got to the gate, which was crowded with New Zealanders returning home from summer vacation, and American's flying in for their own reasons. I saw one family with two young girls and a dad who brought is guitar case. I immediately thought of our family vacations. Once on board I sat next to a thirty-something Canadian going to school in Brisbane, Australia and an American from Georgia going to a job interview in Brisbane. Eleven and a half hours later--spent reading, sleeping, chatting, reading, sleeping, watching a movie, reading, sleeping--we finally landed in Auckland, at about 7:15 a.m. 

Arriving: (*Note to Mom, Dad, and Sarah: most of this information was included in that e-mail, so feel free to skip this part :)

I got on a bus that goes from the airport into the city. It's about a 30-40 minutes ride, and it goes through some of the Auckland suburbs, and through some incredible hills (Gretchen: this looks exactly like the land I pretended we'd run away too in those make-believe games.) I made it to the Hostel by 9:00, but the room wouldn't be ready until later. So I dropped off my massive bags and walked around. I wandered down Queen St. and to the Quay, where ferry's dock and depart for the Bay of Islands, further north. I went back south on Albert St. and found my way to Albert park, where I got my first chance to lie down and relax. 

The park is on top of a perfect hill, and after making several hairpin turns up a steep slop, through a grove of crazy trees, you emerge on a hilltop thats eye-level with tree tops and high-rises and office buildings. The perspective is unnerving; the buildings are about as large as the tree tops themselves. The park itself contains sailing rigs and statues; sorry to say I didn't stop to look at the plaques or read the names. I went straight to a patch of shade to take of my shoes, lie down and think about being in New Zealand. I listened to some music (Animal collective and The Islands seem to go well with this town) and read some of my book, and felt something distinctly peck at my foot. "That couldn't be what I think it is," I thought, and turned around to see a little brown sparrow look back and forth at me and my foot. I gasped and went back to reading, wondering if it would happen again. I felt some grass twitch and feather move on the sole of my foot, and the little guy pecked again twice. It was way to precious. 

Amid Albert Park in the University of Auckland. It being Sunday and the middle of summer, there weren't many students around. The university buildings are spread out and intermingle with the surrounding neighborhood and the park. It's gorgeous. Each building is distinct. There's no unifying architectural design, which is refreshing. It makes it feel like a community rather than a facility, or a series of office buildings (Anyone who's seen the UT Arlington campus knows what I mean.) The music and art complex (Dad: I forgot to mention this, but one of the music facilities os called "the music shack." Thought that was cute.) have their own courtyards, the political studies buildings are a group of four French or English colonial-style houses, and the engineering building looks like a cement high school. The student life building is a raised building with peaked roofs. Settled among more crazy long-limbed trees, it looks like a tree house. I saw the Craccum office from afar (Craccum is the name of the student magazine that I hope to work for once I'm studying there) and it looked love-worn, if not shabby. 

I wandered up and down a few more places, looking for a cell-phone store, but none were open. I asked about for one, but the store merchants told me none of them would be open. "It's Sunday," they said, "so they'll all be closed." I thought that was weird, but after coming across four Vodaphone store outlets, all closed, I figured they were right. 

I went back to the hostel at 12:30, but the room still wasn't ready, but they said it would be by 1:00. So I went to New World Market, New Zealand's super-market chain, to pick up some toiletries. It was a 40 minute walk in the other direction, towards Victoria Park. 

This is a little nicer, less touristy part of town. Victoria Park itself is flatter, more useful for playing sport. I walked the 40 minutes back, and by then my room was ready and I was able to take a shower. I sent a long e-mail to my parents, and by then it was time to go get some food. 

Dinner:

After getting my stuff back together upstairs, I set off to get some food. Once I stepped outside, I began to cough. "Oh shit," I thought. I sounded like Walker. I worried I would come down with his infection, but as it was about 5:00 by then, all the pharmacies were closed, and I really didn't feel like walking the 40 minutes back to New World. I had brought my book with me, and left to go get some sushi at one of the few places I knew would be open. It was decent, but since I had some congestion I couldn't really taste anything. Once done, I went back home, and decided I better figure out if I really did have a roommate or not, as I'd feel really bad if I got someone sick. 

It turns out I did. A guy named Andreas from Germany had apparently already been living in the room for about 5 days, but I had no idea since the room was so clean. In fact, the only other sign of a human being was a padlock on one of the safes in the room, but I thought that was a courtesy lock and I could ask for the key if I needed it.

Feeling sicker, and not wanting to think about who this roommate was or what he would be like, and thinking I could always get a single here or somewhere else, I decided to hang out in my room and read. Just in case this "Andreas" came in and I needed to bail quickly, I got all my stuff together so that it'd be easy to carry all at once. 

About an hour later, I heard a key at the door and met my roommate, a quiet 18 year old from the south of Germany, who goes by Andy. He'd been in Auckland for five days, and was here at this hostel the whole time, waiting for he airport to locate his missing luggage. He took a shower and invited me to go out to dinner with him and a few other people from the hostel, which I might of done if I wasn't feeling sick and thought I might be pretty contagious. We talked a little while longer and then he left and I knocked out from about 8:30 till nine the next morning. 

Getting more essentials:

Considering how early I'd gone to sleep, I got up semi-early this morning. I pulled on a dress and an undershirt--stuff that was pretty easy to pull on--and went outside, my head throbbing. And there was so much more people out and around than yesterday, it being a Monday. went across the pharmacy and picked up some tussin, Ibuprofen, and a multivitamin for my immune system. If it gets worse, there's the names of some doctors posted in the hostel who take walk-ins and backpackers. I went to get some breakfast to down my medicine in, and got some eggs, bacon and tomatoes, with a swirl of Vegimite. That junk is salty. It tastes like bad soy sauce. The rest was great, though, and I got enough in me to take with the new medicine. once done and paid for, I went to the Vodophone a few blocks down and picked up my new phone (Important info: my new phone number is 021-065-8309. You can reach me by dialing this: 011+64+9+021-065-8309. If you ever get confused, check this website: www.countrycodes.com) 

After that, I realized I didn't have a way of taking my tussin, which was measured in mL. So I swung by the Pharmacy again, and picked up a dispenser, some make up, and face wash. I went to an electronics store after realizing I didn't have an iPod USB port or wall charger, and then went back home. 

I was starting to feel a little better, and I went back to the room to change and put my new stuff up. I ran into Andy, who helped me figure out my phone number and showed me where I could get a padlock for my stuff. 

And that's where I'm at now. My plans for today are to figure out how to get to Wellington tomorrow, and what to do once I'm there. I'll be looking through the Wwoof book and the lonely planet guide for some other information. I'd like to hit up a beach; wanted to today, but I missed the 8:30 a.m. bus. 

Trains depart tomorrow for Wellington at about 7:30 in the morning and get there at 7:00 p.m. So I'll probably walk down to the train station and see if there's room for a ticket. There's lots of other options, though; there's something called a Flexi-Pass, which I'll look into. 

That's all for now. Big love to all, and I'll post again soon to let you know how things are.

Ems

The Day Before The Day I Leave

Hi, family! Hello, friends! Welcome to the first entry. 

If you're reading this, you know who I am and where I'm about to go, roughly. For some of you, this little blog will be something of an improvised tracking device. Others may enjoy it for little more than light reading. Regardless, I decided to keep a blog for as much my benefit as the people I love and who love me.

Well, New Zealand, yes? How am I getting there, what am I packing, and what's the first plan?

The trip officially starts tomorrow, but I won't arrive in Auckland until the 13th. Walker, a friend of mine from California, has opened his doors and I'll be breaking up the journey by spending the night in L.A. and leaving from there on the 11th for N.Z. at 9:30 p.m. I'll land in Auckland and will have six weeks before classes start at the university to explore the southern island during the summer.

The last few days have been a mad-dash to make sure every piece of paper and only the most crucial bits of cloth are in there right place and have made it into my pack. Applying for the student visa was a terrifying affair, since it required mailing my passport to Washington D.C. I think this part of the application makes any student going abroad cringe. I'm not sure if I was lucky, or if the New Zealand embassy has a very speedy staff, or if the UPS service uses discontinued Concord airplanes for their national carriers, but I had my passport back in no more than four days. I sprung for UPS's guaranteed overnight delivery, but getting my 'port back so quickly made the $50+ price tag worth it. 

Packing. Oh man. I opted for a back pack in lieu of a duffel. It's more autonomous, and it will force me to pack light. Which is important--as my sister and my study abroad advisor both pointed out, you should bring more money and less clothes when you travel. But tonight I have to figure out how to comfortably pack a laptop bag along with a sleeping bag and the essential clothes. ...We'll see.

I still have a lot to do: transferring computer files, packing practice, e-mails to send out, dinner with my grandmother, and everything else I'm forgetting. 

Love, Emily.