Antarctica seems but a dream. While some were having a hard time adjusting to civilization, I can’t actually believe I stood at the South Pole. In contrast to our military flight in, which only had two small windows, we flew out on an Airbus and I made sure to get a window seat. It gave me a whole different perspective of the continent seeing the glaciers, mountains and valleys, open seas and ice shelves. I was happy I stayed for the extra month, but also ready when it came to a close. Then I followed my typical in-flight routine and feel asleep until the plane began its final descent into New Zealand.
I grabbed my luggage off the carousel and placed it on a cart before jumping on the back myself and riding it outside and to the Antarctic Clothing Distribution Center like a skateboard. The warm breeze and humid air felt euphoric against my bare arms. I checked in all of my cold weather gear and then joined others to hop on the shuttle into the city. In town, we noticed a group of four women dressed as pirate maidens heading to some party or dance. A few blocks later another group of maidens. Then a different quad with pink hair in fairy costumes. We had been in a place where the male to female ratio had been 4 to 1. I forgot the general populous was 50/50. Then I saw a peculiar creature, otherwise known as a baby. And then a small child and elderly. Then some more girls with blue and green wigs. It was land of the freaks.
Sitting in the hotel check-in line, four young women in Catholic school girl outfits approached us and asked us a question. We just looked at each other and started laughing. The first words a civilian in the real world uttered to us were, “Do you have any ribbed condoms?” Apparently it was for some scavenger hunt or a bachelorette party, I don’t remember. They continued asked other people nearby as I moved forward in the queue and got my room number at the looks-like-Apple-designed-it, Hotel So. The trendy rooms weren’t liked by all the roughnecks from the ice but I enjoyed it. Later that night I met up with a couple of the guys I knew from the Pole.
The dynamic between the two was like hanging out with Bert and Ernie. One was a deliberate, conservative in demeanor, Ivy League graduate from New England and the other was an Texan who worked on oil rigs and has a girlfriend that wants him to get a job in Kuwait because you can’t do anything immoral in that country or they chop off the offending member or hand. All night long, without his girlfriend watching, The Texan would goad and prod the Ivy leaguer into drinking faster than just one beer an hour, drinking more than just two or three beers a night, and staying out later than midnight. I laughed the entire evening, they were like movie characters. Our journey started with me feeling really old just from looking at all the young looking people in line. The girl in front of us started a conversation by noticing my pale arms and gleefully exclaiming “You’re just as white as I am,” before bursting out in laughter.
We started talking a little bit, but before soon I had to ask how old she was. She started giggling again and said “I’m 27. Ha ha ha ha yeah I’m 27.” She then showed me her ID which looked like a gym membership. Suddenly something dawned on me as I scanned the crowd. I looked at her and said, “Yeah I’m 27 too, just like you are, only the opposite direction.” Translation: I was just as close to age 27 as she. The legal drinking age in New Zealand, like the majority of the world, is 18. Her fake ID made me want to get out of there in a hurry, as I could picture my sister calling me a sicko. We ended up not going inside and finding a more mixed crowd but I had other problems. Usually foreign people in New York love talking with me because I speak English so slow they can actually understand someone, but here I just talk, umm, I’ll say exotic. I ordered my drink three times before the bartender could comprehend my words. I’m having trouble with their accents once in a while too.
I walked into a bathroom and was about to enter a private stall, when I heard a voice calling to me. I looked up and saw a beautiful blonde woman dressed up in a French Maid costume. Yes, another one from the costume party thing, this is my chance. I smiled big, flattered that she would want to strike up a conversation with me, but had to excuse myself because I couldn’t understand what she said. Looking her in the eye, I focused with all the concentration I could muster, embarrassed to make her reiterate her words a third time.
“Um excuse me sir, you’re in the woman’s bathroom. “ she repeated. My giddy smile turned to a look of complete terror as I looked around. Through the propped open door I could see men entering and exiting a room just on the other side of the hallway. Where were they before and why hadn’t I seen any signs? AHHHHH. I meekly apologized, tucked my tail between my legs and scurried out. In hindsight I should have just started a new conversation like nothing was wrong, but I always think of things too late. Several bars in New York have unisex wash stations with stalls in separate individual small rooms. It never occurred to me that it was strange for a woman to be striking up a conversation with me in a restroom. I trotted back upstairs laughing about the situation. There, Ernie was pushing Bert to go to a nudie club. With my vote we stayed away and simply ended up at another nearby bar before calling it a night.The next day I went to a professional rugby game and then met up with those two for another interesting time. They both left Sunday morning though, while I slept in and ate a nice brunch around 1:30 in the afternoon.
I walked around in the foothills of Christchurch, through the botanical gardens, and got a relaxing Thai massage. Looking for lunch one day, I wanted something authentic and searched for an ethnic restaurant with native people eating inside. I found my spot, Sala Thai, and promptly asked for a table. They gave me a table alright, one directly in a corner. Either seat I choose had a grand view of the wall in front of me. I had to turn my body sideways between bites to face out into the room to observe the subdued scene. There were even empty tables. I finished my meal and went looking for backpacking gear. In one of the stores I bumped into a young woman I knew from the Pole. She had been trekking for the past four days in an area called Arthur’s Pass and was on her way to the South Pacific Island, Vanuatu. We made dinner plans and met up with another couple later that evening beforing saying goodbye again.
The next day I took a nine hour bus ride through the Canterbury Plains, through the Southern Alps and down to Queenstown. The town would be well described as the offspring of opulent and chic Park City and adventure driven and adrenaline riddled Moab. As long as we are pretending, the setting reminds me of what that mythical town would look like on the edge of a massive lake at the top of Little Cottonwood Canyon. As for now, the tourists in town are mostly from Australia, The U.K., France and Germany from the sounds of things. Aside from nationality, they also seem to fall into two categories. The first, foreign baby boomers with sweaters draped over their backs and shoulders like a superman cape or like they are going to a tennis match. All the fine dinning establishments have several groups of this type sipping fine wine and engaged in clever conversation.
The other segment of typical tourist here is young twenty-somethings wearing swim trunks, flip flops and t-shirts looking like they are heading to the beach. This group stays at hostels and buys their peanut butter and jelly at the grocery store so they can have more money for booze. While I don’t fit in with either contingent, it’s a simple guess on which side of the fence I landed. Case in point, last night my roommates were four spicy Swedish meatballs. Haven’t seen tonight’s cast that came here looking for extreme sports, but I’m sure I’ll meet them around four in the morning.
Some of the broucheres I’ve seen for the action, include bungy jumping off a bridge the length of 1 1/2 football fields, jetboating through narrow canyons at high speeds, and paragliding. I’ve heard of people driving Formula One race cars. But the best excursion I’ve seen was paying $400 dollars to drive a huge military tank. And for an extra 400 you can even crush and roll over a car. All prices are NZD, for the redneck in all of us.
As for me, I think I’m going to be holed up here for a couple of days because the weather is turning sour. I’ll try to wait it out so I can do the Rees-Dart Trek. It’s about 50 miles long and will take 4 or 5 days. I don’t want to do it in the rain, mud, swollen rivers and obstructed mountain views. I may do the bungy jump in the meanwhile, but the $230 price tag is creating hesitation. I might end up just moving out of town. We’ll see if I get too antsy waiting for sunshine while messy roommates leave shaved facial hair in the bathroom sink and fart repeatedly at night.
After a fairly long bus journey south to Franz Josef township, home of the Franz Josef glacier, we dump our bags at the slightly grubby Chateaux Franz hostel. Since the glacier itself is about an hour walk out from the small township, our Magic bus driver takes a group of us in the coach to the carpark there, giving us about two and a half hours to check out the glacier and some of the shorter walking tracks.
We had caught a glimpse of the glacier as we rounded one of the bends in the road, after crossing (those one-lane briges again!) an icy-blue river flowing from the glacier, and that glimpse alone, out the large front window of the bus, took our breath away. But when we do the actual glacier walk across the valley to it’s foot (or as close to the foot as those not on hiking tours are allowed to go), it’s astounding. It’s so huge it’s impossible to take in - sublime, a huge river of ice snaking down the mountains, it’s snowy top lit by the sunlight. The glacier valley itself (carved out by the glacier, which is now receding and growing in almost equal amounts, thousands of years ago) is a flat moonscape of grey-white rocks, the bush-covered sides of the hills cut at irregular intervals by small waterfalls falling from hundreds of feet up.
Up close the glacier seems less huge - the snowy top obscured by the bend in the valley walls. Where the river flows out there is a dark cavern in the ice - after a few minutes standing there we see a large chunk of ice detach itself from the cave roof and land with a splash in the river. It kind of reinforces the slightly comically dramatic, bright yellow signs on the other side of the fence, warning of all types of dangers from crushing with ice to drowing, if we cross the ropes. A few people have been killed in the past trying to get photos right up on the ice, or trying to touch it, when pieces the size of campervans came crashing loose at just the wrong moment.
That night we make the healthiest meal I’ve had this trip, an epic salad… I wish I’d taken a picture as evidence that I am actually eating vegetables, but unfortunately we ate it too fast :).
The next day we had planned to do a five hour hike around the glacier valley, while others from our bus went off to do glacier ice-hikes. But it’s raining in the morning, and when we check with the DOC at the I-Site office, the woman behind the desk gives us an horrified look and exclaims that the route is far too dangerous, and has been since flooding a month or two ago which washed away a lot of the stream-sides leaving deep gullies to cross, with slippery ascents and descent.. “And anyway,” she adds, frowning, “It was always a really, really nasty route!”. Good job we checked then I guess!
Instead we do a short hike away from the township, to a man-made tunnel through the mountain. We take headtorches like the map says, but when we get the tunnel it’s over ankle-deep in water. Still, the promise of some amateur caving definitely outweighs having soaking wet shoes and freezing feet for the walk back. And it’s pretty cool: entering the pitch-dark tunnel, our torchbeams hardly seeming to fight against the gloom, we splash into the water, flinching again the cold, following rough tunnel walls with our hands as we gingerly step forward, wary of deeper pools ahead. On the way back out we cover our torchlights and catch sight of glowworms on the cave-roof.
We squelch back to the hostel just as the rain starts. It starts at 1pm - moonsoon-style, battering the hostel roof - and doesn’t stop until late that night. The rest of the day is lost to books, films and one risky sprint to the fish’n'chip shop down the road.
The last time Somchai visited New York, he was terrified of its criminal reputation. As far as I can tell, he took a Circle Line boat tour of the city, then a bus tour of the city, then left, so I don’t think his feet ever touched the ground. He was particularly scared of Central Park, which I dragged him to on the last day to show him that it’s a lively, beautiful place that NY couldn’t live without. As you can see, I was right and he agreed, and in future trips Central Park was his favorite place to hang out.
We also walked around the East and West sides, nice residential areas on either side of the park. Again, very few pictures, except for the ugly Lincoln Center and what I actually do find scary, the nature dioramas of the Natural History Museum, both on the west side. I don’t really get the diorama thing, it looks so old fashioned and dreary. When you can see the live thing on safari or a zoo, or pictures, movies etc anywhere, I’m not sure who would want to see stuffed, dead hundred year old animals with marble eyes.
I don’t want to end my New York trip on such a happy Central Park moment, and I just remembered an “incident”. It is beautiful, and safe, but also very, very unpredictable. When we first entered, I remember we saw this guy in tight white spandex shorts with an enormous fake penis shoved down them. He was walking around the park and everyone was laughing, except him, as he was seriously trying to impress the ladies. Somchai gave me such an “I told you so” look and I thought he was going to flee the park after that, but he persevered, and if something like that happens to you, you should too, and just stash the memory for future use in your own blog.
Our loft was a work in progress. The building is about 175 years old, and used to be a department store, a warehouse and many other things besides. Its most recent reincarnation was as a tobacco warehouse, which tarred the floors dark brown. Like all the Soho buildings, they were converted into residential lofts by artists in the ’60’s. The place I bought had electricity and one toilet, and that’s it, so it needed a pretty big rework. The neighbors hated me (rightfully so) when the construction crew somehow turned on the building sprinkler system and ruined all sorts of artworks, clothing, etc. It was pretty horrible. One really odd thing about the building was it only had an ancient freight elevator, and you had too manually pull on a rope to get it going, then grab the rope when the elevator was passing your apartment,which was pretty freaky. Anyway, during the long construction process I ended up moving to Hong Kong and then Bangkok, so I actually never lived in the place except for having a great New Year’s Eve party there for the Millenium.
Here are a couple of photos of SoHo, which is my favorite part of New York. I could walk to my office downtown in about 30 minutes, and the place really feels apart from NY. (My apartment is in the building with the big Perry Art Gallery flag hanging from it). Its architecture is pretty uniformly iron cast facades from the early 1800’s and cobblestone streets, which is unlike anywhere else. It was the center of the art world and had lots of funky shops and bars, but it has definitely lost its edge and is now populated mostly by luxury label stores. It still looks great, and is a great place to walk around, particularly on a weekday or early morning before the tourists arrive. If you do make it there, check out Cupping House or Balthazar for breakfast, (Balthazar’s also good for dinner) Mercer Kitchen for dinner, (or Raoul’s or Lucky Strike for late night dining with a cool vibe), and great Thai food at Kin Khao and Kittachai. In fact, the chef at Kin Khao is an old friend of Somchai’s from Bangkok, and the chef at Kittachai just opened the place a few years ago after working for the Four Seasons in Bangkok for a long time.
I think most of the allure of New York to foreigners is Hollywood-related. It’s a really stimulating city to live in, but I always wonder what sights there are to keep the tourist hordes busy. As you can see, Somchai’s first picture request was with an NYPD car, which are world famous because of Hollywood. We’ve been to NY so many times I can’t really remember much about this first trip. We stayed at the SoHo Grand Hotel, because the main reason we were in NY was to look at my apartment in SoHo, which was under a year long construction project. The hotel used to be the only downtown hotel, and despite its ugly new brick exterior that jars with the historic neighborhood, the public spaces have a nice vibe and the rooms are too small but not decorated that badly. But there are lots more hotels in the area now, and there’s no reason to stay here now.
So I finished my CELTA course last Friday. It was a relief to finally be done but now I need to look for a job. I HATE applying for jobs. Its so uncertain. Sending out tons of resumes, doing interviews and never knowing where is the best fit for me. The worst part of it all this time is that Costa Rica doesn’t exactly have clear addresses or street names so I really have no clue where I am going to drop off resumes and do interviews. But got to do it and hope for the best.
Besides that we are talking about staying in San Jose for a year now. Mostly for me to get a good years experience teaching, Ryan to get a years experience working in the hostel (and hopefully become manager) and to save up money for South America. Oh how we both want to move on to South America but again got to do what we got to do to keep this adventure rolling.
Today we went to the Costa Rica Gold museum in San Jose. It was interesting. The first level display is all about Costa Rica’s currency. From the first coin and paper prints to the currency in circulation today. They explained how all the currency designs are based on agricultural income of the country and the bio-diverse floral and fauna found in the countries forests.
The second level was all about a native artists. Mostly abstract geometrical line paintings. Some of it was pretty but we had the typical lame mans question, “how is this art? A five year-old could do that.” Shows what we know.
Anyways the third level was our favorite. It was about the daily lives of the indigenous people and how they made figurines and jewelry out of gold. Most of the figurines were based on animals such as toucans, frogs, jaguars, turtles, crocodiles, etc. The figurines ranged from the size my hand to the tiny size of my finger nail. And so many of them are so detailed. The indigenous people designed wax models of the figurine shapes then surrounded the models with very high heat resistant clay. Next they paned for gold in the local rivers, melted it into liquid form and pour the melted gold into the clay bowl with the models. After the gold dried they cracked open the clay bowls to reveal the scared gold figurines. How awesome is all that. And there are hundreds of these gold pieces in the museum. This last level made it worth visiting the museum, as it should since it is called the gold museum.
Tomorrow we are going to the National Museum. Every Tuesday the National Museum in San Jose has a half hour show for only a $1. The shows are usually pretty good from what I hear. Some kind of performing arts plus the museum in suppose to be very elegant and ornate so I am looking forward to it.
We are taking it in turns to write the blog, I wonder if you can guess who writes which bit?? No prizes for guessing though! (By the way, we are not suddenly in Austria, there is something wrong on this website!)
Bill had warned us that the drive from Hervey Bay to Rockhampton was tedious so we decided to break the journey up. First was a stop to the Bundaberg Rum distillery. We were hoping that the tour would be free but alas they wanted to charge 25 bucks for the privilege and we would have to wait for an hour and a half until the next tour. So we made do with a nose around the shop, bought a fridge magnet and got a snap of us in front of the big bottle of rum.
We were only ten minutes out of Bundberg when we saw signs for “Mysterious Craters” being intrigued, we decided to investigate. We were hoping that this might be a free attraction, however we were told that we needed to cough up 7 dollars 50 each to see this magical marvel. Not wanting to appear cheapskates, we got our wallets out. Its difficult to describe the craters, but they were, well just craters in someone’s back garden - see photo. What was slightly weird is that there were a few other side attractions such as a large collection of old lawnmowers and chainsaws - having visions of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, we decided to make a quick exit!!
Bill’s warning was absolutely bang on, the drive was tedious with very few cars and only a handfull of small villages along the way. Having purchased a bag of cheesy puff crisps and, to while away the time, we decided to have a competition to see how many we could stuff in our mouths without chewing. It was tense stuff, I was proud of my first effort of 15 but Em trumped me with 20. I then went one further to 25 but we decided it was a stalemate as we had run out of cheese puffs. I tell this little story to give you an idea of how boring the drive was. There are also loads of signs by the road saying “survive the drive”, “fatigue zone” for next 50Kms, etc. I now realise how people can fall asleep at the wheel.
Eventually after 6 hours we arrived at Rockhampton. We were extremely pleased to get to our destination but it was purely an overnight stop so that we could push onto Airlie Beach (gateway to the Whitsunday Islands) the following day.
Up early yet again to start another big drive. We had been warned about flooding and as we neared Airlie Beach it started to tip down with rain tropical style - wipers on max but they still couldnt clear the windscreen fast enough. The creeks were virtually to the side of the road but fortunately we managed to get to our campsite at Airlie Beach. Needless to say, it was very soggy underfoot.
We decided, after such a huge amount driving we would have a “down day” - spend some time on the internet and to decide which trips we wanted to do while there. After much deliberation and visiting 3 different tour operates, we parted with some serious cash for two separate trips over the next two days.
We awoke the following day to torrential rain, the small roads between the pitches of the campsite were literally like rivers.
I was very skeptical that our trip would go ahead but the bus arrived to pick us up on schedule to take us to the marina. We picked up our “stinger suits” - these are essential to protect you from jelly fish whilst in the water.
We were then shown our transport for the day, a 38 foot rib inflatable with two huge engines on the back. The sea was very rough, I think there was a 3-5 swell. Immediately on exiting the harbour, the guy accelerated and started zig-zagging up the waves and the hull was slamming down really hard. It took 5 minutes before the first person couldnt handle it so we had to go back to the marina to drop the lightweights off!
The ride to Whitehaven beach was adrenaline filled, full throttle all the way in rough seas - awesome! We were absolutely drenched by the time we got there. Amazingly the weather brightened up by the time we got there. Whitehaven beach lives up to all the pictures you see, simply stunning although the tide wasn’t all the way out so we didn’t see all of the famous sandbars.
After a stroll and a spot of lunch, we headed off for the first snorkelling site. Due to the rough weather the sea had been really stirred up so visibility was not as good as it should be. We still managed to see some fish and the corals below. After 30 minutes here, we moved on to another snorkelling site which was much better. From there it was back to the marina, in all the captain told us we had covered 57 miles and reached a max speed of 38 knots - that it the swell was someting! Totally awesome day, it was funny to hear Benny (our captain) talk excitedly to a mate when we got back to the harbour about the seas and how we had got airbourne so many times.
The following day it was another boat trip (in a more civilised boat) to a floating pontoon on the Great Barrier Reef. It took us about 2 hours to get to the pontoon which had an underwater viewing area, a scuba dive platform, a semi submersible and, would you believe a water slide. On the ride out, we decided to do an introductory scuba dive and we had already booked a helicopter ride over the reef.
As soon as we got there, we were ferried out to a near-by floating helipad. Em was pretty nervous, particularly when she saw the size of the chopper!!! Needless to say, the helicopter ride was incredible, the fact that it was a helicopter was exciting but the views of the Great Barrier Reef from the air were simply stunning. There was one other passenger beside Em and I and despite being able to talk to each other through headsets, none of us said a word, I think we were rendered speechless by what we were seeing. Whatever I say here will not do what we saw justice, hopefully you will see what I mean by the pictures.
It was then onto our introductory scuba dive which we were both a little apprehensive about. You went down with an instructor who held your hand (literally) all the way. After being shown the equipment and how to breathe (useful!), we pushed off the underwater platform.
It is so serene when you are underwater and the wildlife was just amazing. We saw a couple of giant clams, one of which the instructor touched so that it closed. Saw lots Unicorn fish which are quite weird - look them up on the internet, you’ll see what we mean! Also saw a couple of clown fish (just like Nemo!). The different types and vivid colours of the coral was incredible. After 30 minutes under, we surfaced and have decided to look at a diving course in Malaysia or Thailand.
After our dive, we managed to get a little bit of R&R on the pontoon, spot of lunch and a few goes on the waterslide. As we were so tired when we got back to Airlie Beach, we decided to treat ourselves to a meal out - fish and chips!!
Just some more photos of the remains of Ayuthaya. I’m deleting the rest of the post because it was mostly about technical problems on the old site. In its place I’ll tell you one odd thing about this new blog. I have to identify where I’m talking about for each photo and blog post, which is a bit of a pain, but it’s what makes the map work so I guess that’s why they’re so insistent about it. But in non-Western alphabet languages like Thai, the way a city is spelled is pretty casual. So I spent about a half hour trying all different variations of Ayuthaya I could find but no luck. Then I googled it and found out the official name is Phra Nakhon Si Ayutthaya, and that did the trick. But it’s kind of stupid to file cities by their official name that nobody uses, and I would never have guessed to start spelling Ayuthaya with “phra”. OK I think I’ve added enough text between the photos, so signing off now.
The bus then takes a short trip to the main attraction, Ayudhaya. In its heyday, it was one of the richest cities in the world, and much marveled over by European visitors. After its destruction, however, what little remained was left in ruins, and the place quickly became overrun by the jungle. Now it’s a big tourist site so it’s been straightened out and the brush cleared off, (and a decent size city has sprung up nearby). There are dozens of ruined temples scattered all over the wide area, and some palace remains although they were usually built of wood so only the stone foundations survived. The temples are really beautiful and very evocative, and is the main reason why driving yourself
is a good option. On the boat/bus tour, you’re driven around to only a few of the main temples, then you’ve got a short time to wander around then onto the next, so you never really leave the main tourist circuit.
Categories
Archives
Meta
Top Travel questions
- Where is the best place to travel?
- Where is the best place to travel that's warm?
- Where is the best place in Europe to travel to?
- Where's the best place to travel in Italy?
- What are some good trips for traveling overseas?
- What are some good travel trips?
- Test
- What are some cheap traveling tips for Europe?
- Tips on looking food while traveling for a year?