That long night of sleep was needed.
I feel like a child. Terrific luster, overwhelmed by the idea of absorbing into the exuberance of it all. Good gawd. There's so much stuff to do and so many people to experience and their infinite perspectives to ponder and discuss! How to even begin to learn void of socialized restraints and being all wrapped up in inhibition and norm. To realize your specific self, to reach inside and nurture your soul's right half, your stew's unique zest, the creative spices that are you!
You should read Jack Kerouac.
Strings of morning light stretch between the opaque blue curtains. Cairnes is softly strumming a paradise-toned song. An invitation is heard. I rise, shower, dress—cut-offs, tank-top, hemp-colored sandals. See Bradon in the computer lounge. He's uploading Halloween pics from Anna's camera. “Meet back here at 230 to book the Cape Tribulation tour. I'm going to The Lagoon!”
Outside is dreamy! Hot and humid, but not that sticky sort of humid, the sort that textures tropical air and permeates in a pleasant way, that omnipresent kind that serves as a constant reminder of where you are, a continuous endearing rub from mother nature. I squint in the bright light; Ray Bans soothe. Look to my right: two uniformed schoolboys, perhaps age 6, are playing violins, the cases to which are opened for tips. Toss in a $2 coin.
Stroll across the boulevard to The Lillipad Cafe. A hippie girl with the most beautiful dreadlocks is behind the counter in an apron. Perfect skin. “Huevos rancheros and an iced coffee.” Grins at the accent. Everyone loves Americans! I find a wooden table adorned with an elegant sunset painting. On the wall are ads—Fire twirling lessons $15; Lazy Latin fitness class Thursdays, 530pm; Foreplay Fridays at Decadence Gentleman's Club. Suck down the last sip of coffee and exit back into the cozy warmness.
Walk down the street and see the most wondrous trees. They appear to not have a single trunk, but rather, be reaching out of the soil with thousands of vined fingers. Most people roam around in bathing suits or beachy attire. All are tanned. Just 4 fluffy clouds float through the sky. Walk for 5 minutes and arrive at The Lagoon.
It's huge! A salt-water infinity pool filled with all generations. 3 steel sculptures of angel fish are in the distance, as well as someone doing a hand-stand. Beyond is the great Pacific. I approach through the combed bordering grass. On the way I pass 2 duos of sun bathing topless girls, mid 20s, 3 blonds and 1 brunette. I reach the ocean and smell the beach air. To the right is a yacht-filled harbor. To the left is an endless boardwalk. I rest on a wooden bench.
6 pelicans bathe and flap. Close my eyes to the sound of water gently waving on the shore. Inhale the warm salt. Focus on just that: the feeling of ocean air entering my nose. The feeling of sun on my shoulders. The feeling of a thick warm breeze. Aah.
Walk back to the hostel and write this. 2pm. We're in paradise!
[computer's acting weird... pics soon :)]
Monday, November 17, 2008
[Nov 2] Cairnes Day 1: Sydney Rugby Players Are Ridiculous!
Our plane left Sydney at 9am Sunday morning. Rather than sleep the night before, we decide to rockstar it up and party all night—that flight was an aweful experience. Slept for a blurry hour. We arrive in Cairns at 11:47am; it's paradise hot.
Hire a taxi to the hostel, check into our 10 person room, throw on board shorts, hit the pool. IT'S A RESORT! There is a 25 ft waterfall emptying into the kidney-shaped black-bottom pool, surrounding which are palms and white sand. NICE! On the south side there's a massive bar/ patio area. We check that out and are quickly greeted by a Sydney rugby team. All are joking and laughing and wearing the most ridiculous clothes, like Australian flags and boxer briefs. They seem to be hammered from the night before.
A huge pale guy wearing a pink mini skirt is belligerently singing. He stops and calls me out: “Water! The hell ya drankin water for! Poe it on ya head! Poe it on ya head! Poe it on ya head and I'll give ya a beer! WATER! HELL NO H2O! HELL NO H2O! Poe it on ya head and I'll give ya a BEER!” Bradon & I are delerious and laughing hysterically. These guys seem awesome! I dump my water on my head and he sloppily shoves a drink at me. He then snatches my sunglasses and uses them as a beer shot glass. Needless to say, they don't work and he spills beer all over himself. Then he peels half a mandarin and slaps himself in the face with it. He's now covered in beer and neon orange pulp. Turns to me. “Hey what's better than eatin a Mandarin! Christ look at the size of his nipples! Mine are like seashells and his are like tic tacs!” He sings “Big nipples little nipples big nipples little nipples aaaaah.” He flops down onto the wooden pub bench and turns to Bradon. “Whats better than eating a mandarin? Eatin Amanda out!” He slaps his friend in the face with the fruit, pounds another beer, and his eyes glaze over in beligerance. “You're American are ya!... San Diego! Shit hole town! Aussie Aussie Aussie Oi Oi Oi! Drink anotha beer! Drink anotha beeeer!” Fills our glasses. What the hell is going on?!
After an hour of that, we wander down to the pool; sit in shays lounges and enjoy the mob scene. The coach is 40ish, 5'4”, tattooed like a biker (skull and cross bones on the beer belly, pirate stuff on the arms, the whole nine); black handle-bar mustache compliments the blond Britney Spears wig perfectly. He swaggers around in an orange lifeguard speedo; finds a massive lifeguard chair in the corner; barely makes it up; melts into an exhausted drunken slouch. With a straight face and endearing tone, he shouts at his team in the pool. “Hey girls! Make out! When are you boys gonna kiss? Look at the gay little boys! Hurry up and kiss girls!” He stumbles back down the chair and falls into the pool. Wig floats off but he dog paddles after and puts it back on, but it's backwards. Grabs his pint of beer, pours it on his head, fills it up with pool water, walks over to a group of girls tanning in bras and panties, douses them, walks back to the pool, fills up his glass, returns to girls, and douses them again. They laugh at his beligerence. This repeats several times. What the hell is going on!
The team is now completely pissed up. The littlest one finds a yellow exercise ball. He sceams at an enormous teammate “LET'S GO!” They walk to center poolside, in front of the patio, where the rest are drinking. They then turn away from one other, walk as far away as possible, and then turn back. The little one brings the big yellow ball to his chest and yells “GO!” They charge back and jump together chest-first over the water... CRASH! SPLASH! The little one gets launched back like a baby in a bounce house. What the hell is going on! We love Cairnes!
[unfortunatley this was all unexpected... wish I had some pics!]
Hire a taxi to the hostel, check into our 10 person room, throw on board shorts, hit the pool. IT'S A RESORT! There is a 25 ft waterfall emptying into the kidney-shaped black-bottom pool, surrounding which are palms and white sand. NICE! On the south side there's a massive bar/ patio area. We check that out and are quickly greeted by a Sydney rugby team. All are joking and laughing and wearing the most ridiculous clothes, like Australian flags and boxer briefs. They seem to be hammered from the night before.
A huge pale guy wearing a pink mini skirt is belligerently singing. He stops and calls me out: “Water! The hell ya drankin water for! Poe it on ya head! Poe it on ya head! Poe it on ya head and I'll give ya a beer! WATER! HELL NO H2O! HELL NO H2O! Poe it on ya head and I'll give ya a BEER!” Bradon & I are delerious and laughing hysterically. These guys seem awesome! I dump my water on my head and he sloppily shoves a drink at me. He then snatches my sunglasses and uses them as a beer shot glass. Needless to say, they don't work and he spills beer all over himself. Then he peels half a mandarin and slaps himself in the face with it. He's now covered in beer and neon orange pulp. Turns to me. “Hey what's better than eatin a Mandarin! Christ look at the size of his nipples! Mine are like seashells and his are like tic tacs!” He sings “Big nipples little nipples big nipples little nipples aaaaah.” He flops down onto the wooden pub bench and turns to Bradon. “Whats better than eating a mandarin? Eatin Amanda out!” He slaps his friend in the face with the fruit, pounds another beer, and his eyes glaze over in beligerance. “You're American are ya!... San Diego! Shit hole town! Aussie Aussie Aussie Oi Oi Oi! Drink anotha beer! Drink anotha beeeer!” Fills our glasses. What the hell is going on?!
After an hour of that, we wander down to the pool; sit in shays lounges and enjoy the mob scene. The coach is 40ish, 5'4”, tattooed like a biker (skull and cross bones on the beer belly, pirate stuff on the arms, the whole nine); black handle-bar mustache compliments the blond Britney Spears wig perfectly. He swaggers around in an orange lifeguard speedo; finds a massive lifeguard chair in the corner; barely makes it up; melts into an exhausted drunken slouch. With a straight face and endearing tone, he shouts at his team in the pool. “Hey girls! Make out! When are you boys gonna kiss? Look at the gay little boys! Hurry up and kiss girls!” He stumbles back down the chair and falls into the pool. Wig floats off but he dog paddles after and puts it back on, but it's backwards. Grabs his pint of beer, pours it on his head, fills it up with pool water, walks over to a group of girls tanning in bras and panties, douses them, walks back to the pool, fills up his glass, returns to girls, and douses them again. They laugh at his beligerence. This repeats several times. What the hell is going on!
The team is now completely pissed up. The littlest one finds a yellow exercise ball. He sceams at an enormous teammate “LET'S GO!” They walk to center poolside, in front of the patio, where the rest are drinking. They then turn away from one other, walk as far away as possible, and then turn back. The little one brings the big yellow ball to his chest and yells “GO!” They charge back and jump together chest-first over the water... CRASH! SPLASH! The little one gets launched back like a baby in a bounce house. What the hell is going on! We love Cairnes!
[unfortunatley this was all unexpected... wish I had some pics!]
Sunday, November 16, 2008
[Oct 25 - Nov 1] On the 3rd day God created awesome (aka Sydney)
These few days were full and insane. Met up with Karen, Crystal, and Maskell from SDSU. We'll recap it all as quick as we can for you.
Late afternoon as the plane descends into Australia. From the window we watch jet-skiers rocket down the coast; not a cloud in the sky. In customs we're greeted by a big blue mural: 'Welcome to Sydney.' Beneath it is a row of airport-style chairs. Black leather. The only people sitting are two employees. Bradon says “Dude! Take a picture of me sittin' with those two old ladies!” He rushes over. I bust out my camera and peer through the viewfinder. Flash. All of a sudden the women scream at me in the most frightened/angry tone, you'd a thought I was decapitating a koala bear. “NO PHOTOS IN THIS AREA!” HOLY CRAP LADIES! One runs over and demands my camera. I tell her screw herself. Three federal officers tackle me: boot to my temple, hands cuffed, lots of yelling. Just kidding. But she did make me delete the photo and I really did request her to settle down. Australia here we come!
Take a short taxi to Karen's apartment... it's in the heart of the city! On the way we meet the coolest couple: originally from Vietnam but spent the past 14 years in Brisbane. We discuss all sorts of things: driving on the wrong side of the road, the husband's consulting company, Australian transvestites. They tell us about Chinese New Year and how it's a family holiday so most shops close. They say they'll be in Saigon with their family. So will we! They invite us over! AWESOME! He gives me his business card and I receive it with both hands.
545pm. Walk into Karen's apartment and she's Skyping with the roommate/ our college buddy Maskell. He's over in Hong Kong with his boss; business trip but they missed their morning return flight; salvaged the situation by emptying the minibar. They're joking and dancing around in the most fantastic display of fun and debauchery. Maskell starts yelling out ridiculous stories from the night before. He screams “KAREN! KAREN! BRADON & MINCKS! CRYSTAL! KARRENNN! WE MISSED OUR FLIGHT! HAHAHAHA!” among other things. Crystal informs us that we're going to the casino in an hour. Rad.
Waiting for us there is Karen's friend Mark and their two other Aussie buddies. Mark's cool as hell. Nightlife guru, seems to know everyone in town as well as the entire rap industry (literally), has some weird Chinese fish that's bright gold and worth $10K. We test our luck at the black jack tables and I quickly double my money! YES! I get cocky and lose it all— discover profanity is forbidden at black jack tables. Who knew? Float around the bar a bit and soak in the terrific skyline. Eventually, we swim over to the Hugo's Nightclub for pizza and drinks. 9pm.
It's an upscale lounge jamming with beautiful women and great music. We order 6 delicious pizzas and grub every last crumb. Girls drink champagne, guys drink beer. Dance a bit, talk a lot, and eat way too much. 11pm— cab it to the bar district and stroll into Dragonfly.
Apparently Dragonfly's an after-hours bar as it's just starting to rev up. Music is rockin and the ceiling is all disco balls! WOAH! 12pm. Amazing women are everywhere and they love the American accent. I go outside for fresh air and meet two blonds. Amy's from Wales and Sarah's from Wisconson. Amy is a total dime and dances like a sunshine machine, while Sarah pretty much sucks and dances with a scowl. Crystal, Karen, Amy, Bradon, and me dance all night. An MC starts rapping over the techno music, then starts singing. And he's great! Rage 'til 5am!
The best way to acclimate yourself to any new environment is to party your ass off with good friends. I woke up on a twin mattress in the living room of Karen's chique little apartment. Shirt, shoes, and socks were off. Nice. Fell asleep to an episode of Friends. Phoebe was twitterpated over some dude, at least that's how it began. The best alarm clock, next to some sweet sweet lovin, is the hushed chit-chat of friends warmly reminiscing about the fun you all had just 6 hours previous. Karen's at class. Crystal and Brado are catching up. Being far away from home manifests the most amazing connection between you and any acquaintance, and deepens the relationship between you and any friend... both immediately blossom into a fizzy shared glee. Hangover hunger hits the three of us hard and we start wandering around town. Nobody really cares what we eat, just where. Crystal's little travel book says great views are at Darling Harbor!
Later that evening, Mark, Karen, Crystal and us dine at an extravagent restaurant for Crystal's last night in Oz: amazing views of the Sydney bridge and the world famous opera house. Absolutely incredible. After that we wander over to Opera Bar for a bottle of wine. We just sit around this red harborside table, 100 metres from the iconic building, beneath the stars, enjoying eachothers company. At night the Opera House is a magnificent spectacle. It's elegantly illuminated and swarms of gulls circle above, looks like a party of fireflies waltzing in the moonlight.
11pm. Maskell arrives looking the victim of a bear-mawling; says food poisening vanquished him to the airplane bathroom for of the entire flight... the worst 12 hours of his life. He then recites hilarious tales of Hong Kong and we fire back stories of New Zealand. The laughter of people you care about is always so comforting... it fills the air and warm energy hums. And there we were, surrounded by friends old & new, overcome by that rare peace which manifests when everything fits.
Over the next few nights we partied with friends from Auckland whom happened to be in Sydney; Andrew, Pamela, Anna, Kristin and Eeda. Every night was an adventure in itself and needless to say very drunk...
Friday was Halloween. We decided that dressing up was a must even though it's not too big in Oz: nobody trick-or-treats but most backpackers costume and 'get on the piss' (drink heavily). So, that morning we sauntered over to a strange flea market to realize outfits, still very buzzed from the night before. A few ideas catch traction: Italian Guidos, Firemen, White Trash Americans... none really keep our attention.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Bradon spots the most neon yellow tanktop he's ever seen... IT'S ON! He notices a matching orange one. Immediately after, Brad's eyes are again redirected to neon yellow and neon orange hats, equally if not more bright than the tanks; AND, the hats have neck shades, making them the stupidest articles of clothing on earth, hands down! There we had it. We buy everything neon in that crazy little market and agree to figure out what in hell to call ourselves upon sobering up.
Drop off our bags-of-greatness at the Hostel, eat an Irish Breakfast in an Irish pub, then meet up with Maskell and bus it over to world famous Bondi Beach. The weather is paradise, aside from the annoying flies, which for some reason love my nostrils.
[Bradon wrote the rest]
The Beach is a massive horseshoe; the transluscent water is a heavenly blue. One thing about Australia is that the sun is much stronger than in Cali and you can burn in 15 minutes! I bought sunscreen at the flea market earlier that day, but I'm convinced it was just white paste. Garrett used some but for some reason couldn't rub it in to his face, providing constant comedy for everyone the entire day... hilarious!
On the way back, we stopped at McDonalds for 30-cent ice-cream cones and I ate 4. We then went to a Chipotle-style burrito place. It was the closest thing to real Mexican food since we left and it was so good. Tapatio hot sauce, Pacifico Beer, just like SD. It was in the gay district of town so we sat outside and played a fun little game of guess the gender. Soon enough the sun began to set and it was time to get suited up in our neon attire and figure out exactly what we were going to tell people we were. Our two Swedish friends Anna and Kristin came over to our hostel for a preparty. After a few cocktails we decided that when people asked what we are we would simply respond, “I'm the definition of awesome,” or “You ever heard of the word awesome? Well thats what I am”, etc. It sounded like a great idea after a few drinks and we went with it the whole night. We ventured out to a backpacker bar nearby and to our delight everyone was dressed up. We got plenty of high fives for our outfits the entire night. And when you dress as ridiculous as we were you automatically are given the license to dance like a complete jack-ass and we took advantage of that license the entire night. We were dancing so much a few people thought we were dressed up as laser beams...haha!
After a few hours of debauchery there, we decided to head to a dirty Irish bar down the street. On the way there, I decided to test out his hand-stand skills on the sidewalk; you think you can do a lot of things when you are drunk. After a few ugly tries I took a nasty spill to the ground messing up my hip and elbow pretty good. While in line at Scruffy's Garrett leans up against the railing, only the railing is in sections and he doesn't realize it. The railing and him go crashing down onto the sidewalk and it makes a massive scene; it doesn't help that he is wearing neon Orange all over his body either. The security guards assume Garrett is too drunk and don't let us in the bar, which puts an abrupt end to our night. But we had a blast nonetheless as the definition of awesome that Halloween night.
The next night was our last in Sydney as we had to make a 9 am flight Sunday morning. Some of our favorite dj's who happen to be from Australia happened to be playing that night at a club called tank. So we decided it only right to party all night to the sounds of some of our favorite dj's and not go to sleep at all, then get on our flight to Cairns. The club itself was really cool. There were two levels with three different rooms of music. But the only room we cared about was the main one where our dj's were playing. Their name is the Bang Gang Dee Jay's and they are a crew of eight. They were all taking turns djing and often had two guys djing at once. But they were all on point the entire night, mixing in and out of songs so seamlessly easy it was incredible. Their skill level is at a point I can only dream of being at one day; hands down one of the best dj performances I have ever seen! We rocked out on the dance floor the entire night. Garrett started to fall asleep around 5:30 am so we had to call it a night. We took a cab home, packed our stuff and headed to the airport. At this point we were both starting to get hungover and the needless to say the plane flight to Cairns was very painful do to the fact that they don't serve booze on domestic flights...awwwww! But the agonizing three hour flight was well worth our amazing last night in Sydney.
Hugo's! Josh, Bradon, Karen, Mark, Crystal, and your's truly
Dragonfly
Darling harbour art
Lounging in the park
Drinks at the Irish pub with Andrew... Baby Guinni shots & pints of Gunniess... everyone joined us soon after!
Anna, Bradon, Kristin, and me rocking out on halloween... they dressed up as the Swedish flag!
Bradon attempting to breakdance at 3am
Watching the Oz vs. England rugby game... Aussies won. Word.
Got behind the dj booth & had a few drinks with Bang Gang!
Late afternoon as the plane descends into Australia. From the window we watch jet-skiers rocket down the coast; not a cloud in the sky. In customs we're greeted by a big blue mural: 'Welcome to Sydney.' Beneath it is a row of airport-style chairs. Black leather. The only people sitting are two employees. Bradon says “Dude! Take a picture of me sittin' with those two old ladies!” He rushes over. I bust out my camera and peer through the viewfinder. Flash. All of a sudden the women scream at me in the most frightened/angry tone, you'd a thought I was decapitating a koala bear. “NO PHOTOS IN THIS AREA!” HOLY CRAP LADIES! One runs over and demands my camera. I tell her screw herself. Three federal officers tackle me: boot to my temple, hands cuffed, lots of yelling. Just kidding. But she did make me delete the photo and I really did request her to settle down. Australia here we come!
Take a short taxi to Karen's apartment... it's in the heart of the city! On the way we meet the coolest couple: originally from Vietnam but spent the past 14 years in Brisbane. We discuss all sorts of things: driving on the wrong side of the road, the husband's consulting company, Australian transvestites. They tell us about Chinese New Year and how it's a family holiday so most shops close. They say they'll be in Saigon with their family. So will we! They invite us over! AWESOME! He gives me his business card and I receive it with both hands.
545pm. Walk into Karen's apartment and she's Skyping with the roommate/ our college buddy Maskell. He's over in Hong Kong with his boss; business trip but they missed their morning return flight; salvaged the situation by emptying the minibar. They're joking and dancing around in the most fantastic display of fun and debauchery. Maskell starts yelling out ridiculous stories from the night before. He screams “KAREN! KAREN! BRADON & MINCKS! CRYSTAL! KARRENNN! WE MISSED OUR FLIGHT! HAHAHAHA!” among other things. Crystal informs us that we're going to the casino in an hour. Rad.
Waiting for us there is Karen's friend Mark and their two other Aussie buddies. Mark's cool as hell. Nightlife guru, seems to know everyone in town as well as the entire rap industry (literally), has some weird Chinese fish that's bright gold and worth $10K. We test our luck at the black jack tables and I quickly double my money! YES! I get cocky and lose it all— discover profanity is forbidden at black jack tables. Who knew? Float around the bar a bit and soak in the terrific skyline. Eventually, we swim over to the Hugo's Nightclub for pizza and drinks. 9pm.
It's an upscale lounge jamming with beautiful women and great music. We order 6 delicious pizzas and grub every last crumb. Girls drink champagne, guys drink beer. Dance a bit, talk a lot, and eat way too much. 11pm— cab it to the bar district and stroll into Dragonfly.
Apparently Dragonfly's an after-hours bar as it's just starting to rev up. Music is rockin and the ceiling is all disco balls! WOAH! 12pm. Amazing women are everywhere and they love the American accent. I go outside for fresh air and meet two blonds. Amy's from Wales and Sarah's from Wisconson. Amy is a total dime and dances like a sunshine machine, while Sarah pretty much sucks and dances with a scowl. Crystal, Karen, Amy, Bradon, and me dance all night. An MC starts rapping over the techno music, then starts singing. And he's great! Rage 'til 5am!
The best way to acclimate yourself to any new environment is to party your ass off with good friends. I woke up on a twin mattress in the living room of Karen's chique little apartment. Shirt, shoes, and socks were off. Nice. Fell asleep to an episode of Friends. Phoebe was twitterpated over some dude, at least that's how it began. The best alarm clock, next to some sweet sweet lovin, is the hushed chit-chat of friends warmly reminiscing about the fun you all had just 6 hours previous. Karen's at class. Crystal and Brado are catching up. Being far away from home manifests the most amazing connection between you and any acquaintance, and deepens the relationship between you and any friend... both immediately blossom into a fizzy shared glee. Hangover hunger hits the three of us hard and we start wandering around town. Nobody really cares what we eat, just where. Crystal's little travel book says great views are at Darling Harbor!
Later that evening, Mark, Karen, Crystal and us dine at an extravagent restaurant for Crystal's last night in Oz: amazing views of the Sydney bridge and the world famous opera house. Absolutely incredible. After that we wander over to Opera Bar for a bottle of wine. We just sit around this red harborside table, 100 metres from the iconic building, beneath the stars, enjoying eachothers company. At night the Opera House is a magnificent spectacle. It's elegantly illuminated and swarms of gulls circle above, looks like a party of fireflies waltzing in the moonlight.
11pm. Maskell arrives looking the victim of a bear-mawling; says food poisening vanquished him to the airplane bathroom for of the entire flight... the worst 12 hours of his life. He then recites hilarious tales of Hong Kong and we fire back stories of New Zealand. The laughter of people you care about is always so comforting... it fills the air and warm energy hums. And there we were, surrounded by friends old & new, overcome by that rare peace which manifests when everything fits.
Over the next few nights we partied with friends from Auckland whom happened to be in Sydney; Andrew, Pamela, Anna, Kristin and Eeda. Every night was an adventure in itself and needless to say very drunk...
Friday was Halloween. We decided that dressing up was a must even though it's not too big in Oz: nobody trick-or-treats but most backpackers costume and 'get on the piss' (drink heavily). So, that morning we sauntered over to a strange flea market to realize outfits, still very buzzed from the night before. A few ideas catch traction: Italian Guidos, Firemen, White Trash Americans... none really keep our attention.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Bradon spots the most neon yellow tanktop he's ever seen... IT'S ON! He notices a matching orange one. Immediately after, Brad's eyes are again redirected to neon yellow and neon orange hats, equally if not more bright than the tanks; AND, the hats have neck shades, making them the stupidest articles of clothing on earth, hands down! There we had it. We buy everything neon in that crazy little market and agree to figure out what in hell to call ourselves upon sobering up.
Drop off our bags-of-greatness at the Hostel, eat an Irish Breakfast in an Irish pub, then meet up with Maskell and bus it over to world famous Bondi Beach. The weather is paradise, aside from the annoying flies, which for some reason love my nostrils.
[Bradon wrote the rest]
The Beach is a massive horseshoe; the transluscent water is a heavenly blue. One thing about Australia is that the sun is much stronger than in Cali and you can burn in 15 minutes! I bought sunscreen at the flea market earlier that day, but I'm convinced it was just white paste. Garrett used some but for some reason couldn't rub it in to his face, providing constant comedy for everyone the entire day... hilarious!
On the way back, we stopped at McDonalds for 30-cent ice-cream cones and I ate 4. We then went to a Chipotle-style burrito place. It was the closest thing to real Mexican food since we left and it was so good. Tapatio hot sauce, Pacifico Beer, just like SD. It was in the gay district of town so we sat outside and played a fun little game of guess the gender. Soon enough the sun began to set and it was time to get suited up in our neon attire and figure out exactly what we were going to tell people we were. Our two Swedish friends Anna and Kristin came over to our hostel for a preparty. After a few cocktails we decided that when people asked what we are we would simply respond, “I'm the definition of awesome,” or “You ever heard of the word awesome? Well thats what I am”, etc. It sounded like a great idea after a few drinks and we went with it the whole night. We ventured out to a backpacker bar nearby and to our delight everyone was dressed up. We got plenty of high fives for our outfits the entire night. And when you dress as ridiculous as we were you automatically are given the license to dance like a complete jack-ass and we took advantage of that license the entire night. We were dancing so much a few people thought we were dressed up as laser beams...haha!
After a few hours of debauchery there, we decided to head to a dirty Irish bar down the street. On the way there, I decided to test out his hand-stand skills on the sidewalk; you think you can do a lot of things when you are drunk. After a few ugly tries I took a nasty spill to the ground messing up my hip and elbow pretty good. While in line at Scruffy's Garrett leans up against the railing, only the railing is in sections and he doesn't realize it. The railing and him go crashing down onto the sidewalk and it makes a massive scene; it doesn't help that he is wearing neon Orange all over his body either. The security guards assume Garrett is too drunk and don't let us in the bar, which puts an abrupt end to our night. But we had a blast nonetheless as the definition of awesome that Halloween night.
The next night was our last in Sydney as we had to make a 9 am flight Sunday morning. Some of our favorite dj's who happen to be from Australia happened to be playing that night at a club called tank. So we decided it only right to party all night to the sounds of some of our favorite dj's and not go to sleep at all, then get on our flight to Cairns. The club itself was really cool. There were two levels with three different rooms of music. But the only room we cared about was the main one where our dj's were playing. Their name is the Bang Gang Dee Jay's and they are a crew of eight. They were all taking turns djing and often had two guys djing at once. But they were all on point the entire night, mixing in and out of songs so seamlessly easy it was incredible. Their skill level is at a point I can only dream of being at one day; hands down one of the best dj performances I have ever seen! We rocked out on the dance floor the entire night. Garrett started to fall asleep around 5:30 am so we had to call it a night. We took a cab home, packed our stuff and headed to the airport. At this point we were both starting to get hungover and the needless to say the plane flight to Cairns was very painful do to the fact that they don't serve booze on domestic flights...awwwww! But the agonizing three hour flight was well worth our amazing last night in Sydney.
Hugo's! Josh, Bradon, Karen, Mark, Crystal, and your's truly
Dragonfly
Darling harbour art
Lounging in the park
Drinks at the Irish pub with Andrew... Baby Guinni shots & pints of Gunniess... everyone joined us soon after!
Anna, Bradon, Kristin, and me rocking out on halloween... they dressed up as the Swedish flag!
Bradon attempting to breakdance at 3am
Watching the Oz vs. England rugby game... Aussies won. Word.
Got behind the dj booth & had a few drinks with Bang Gang!
Sunday, November 2, 2008
[Oct 15th]: Queenstown Bungee and Debauchery!!!
Queenstown, New Zealand is a mecca of extreme sport. Most other towns are filled with coffee houses and retail shops, whereas here, adventure agencies and outdoor companies abound. Sky dive, canyon swing, jet boat, white water raft, luge... heaven on earth for the adrenaline junkie! It's home of the world's first bungee jump, as well as the world's best burger joint: Ferg Burger! On our road trip we had four separate people tell us that we MUST go to Ferg Burger! I'm a sucker for cool names and a good burger so that was the first thing on my mind when we arrive. I'm starving so I order the biggest on the menu, the 'Big Al': “Al delivers a double serving of prime New Zealand beef (½ pound), lashings of bacon, a whole lotta cheese, 2 eggs, beetroot, lettuce, tomato, relish and a big wad of aioli.” Massive! By far the biggest/ best burger I've ever had! I struggle to finish the whole thing, but I get a second wind and suck it down. I swore I was going into cardiac arrest after; felt like I had literally just eaten a small cow! Ferg Burger has become somewhat of a phenomenon in NZ for a number of reasons. First, they have the craziest burgers you will ever see. They have the most exotic combinations of stuff they put on their burgers, but it works out! Second, they are open until 5 am, which makes a lot of young, drunken party-goers more exited than your little sister on Christmas morning! Lastly, they serve beer...need I say more?
After our incredible Ferg Burger experience, we waddle over to the iSite (local information center) and plan out the next day. We scan the brochures and immediately spot The Nevis, a 440 ft bungee-jump! It's New Zealand's highest so we feel that doing any other would be like taking the easy way out. We look at it as a challenge, and accept even though we're all a bit scared! But none of us was as scared as Malin, who is absolutely terrified of heights! Malin decides to face one of her biggest fears and signs up, we're all so shocked/ proud of her! One by one we all handed our credit cards over to pay. And we are all looking at each other with worried and confused looks on our faces that scream out something along the lines of, “Why are we doing this again, and further more why I am paying a ridiculous amount of money to have the living daylights scared out of me?”. But with the final swipe of the last credit card, it was done...we were locked in and there was no turning back, it felt like I had just made a deal with the devil!
I wake up the next morning and realize that I all I dreamed about last night was bungee jumping. I wasn't having nightmares about jumping or anything; I was just bungee jumping repeatedly in my dreams. I think it was my mind's way of preparing for the extremely intimidating jump! I eat a small breakfast in case whatever's in my stomach before the jump decides to take the elevator to the top floor if you know what I mean?
We check into the bungee place at 11 am. Out of the blue Garrett blurts to the young English girl checking us in, “I heard if you do the jump naked it's free. Is this true?” The girl kindly informs him that this was once the case, but too many people were doing it naked to get a free jump and they had to retract the odd offer. Garrett being the insane kid he is says that he wants to do it naked anyways...haha! The girls can't believe their Swedish ears, “You are going to do it naked Garrett?” they exclaim in their priceless accents. Meanwhile I'm still laughing hysterically off to the side as a mental image of Garrett with nothing but bungee straps on pops into my head; man was I glad I didn't eat much, that image was would have been enough to make a big breakfast want to make an early exit...ewwwww!
We hop on the bus and discover it's a 45 minute ride to the jump site. Great, 45 minutes to sit on a bus and psyche myself out. That's just what I need! Right away I reach for my iPod to calm the nerves. My eyes zero in on Cool Calm Pete, a NYC hip hop artist with the laziest voice ever; I'd describe it as Slick Rick after three shots from a horse tranquilizer... perfect! 20 minutes into the ride, I notice a rustic bridge in the distance. As we get closer to it, the driver informs us that it's the world's first bungee jump; only 150 ft high yet still impressive to see the sport's birthplace. Someone jumps as we pass by; chills instantly spread throughout my body as I know I'm going to be in that person's shoes shortly!
The bus turns onto a dirt road and starts ascending this huge mountain. It struggles to climb the ridiculously steep incline; you see the 25 other passengers fidget a bit more as you get higher and closer to the jump, which is comforting as I'm getting pretty nervous. We finally arrive but all we see is a short building. We get strapped up by the employees of AJ Hackett, the bungee company, and Garrett informs them that he wants to do the bungee jump naked; I burst out in uncontrollable laughter once again and pretend I don't even know him...haha! We are instructed to go out to the lookout point for further instructions. The group walks out like cows going into a slaughter house; not one word is uttered until we see it, and all of a sudden all you hear is, “Oh my god”, “No way”, Holy #%*@, and some other four letter words I'm sure you can figure out.
The jump is made from of a tiny room suspended in an absolutely massive canyon, terrifying! We're given safety instructions that are peppered with comical relief to lighten the mood. Then we're organized into groups of 6 according to weight. Each group takes their turn riding an open gondola out to the room. I'm in the second group taken away to its demise; Garrett tries to videotape me getting hauled away but I really have nothing to say except, “I think I'm going to die!”
Soon enough the Swemerican Mobile Disco reunites in the suspended room. I'll never forget everyone's expressions; just blank stares in a desperate search for comfort. Then there was Garrett with his teal sweatshirt tied around his waist like he was about to do an audition for the movie 300, with nothing but his birthday suit underneath, wandering around and talking to everyone. Techno-trance was playing. Being such a huge fan of music in general, I found it very therapeutic. I just start dancing around to concentrate on the music and pump myself up, as opposed to thinking how high up we really were (there were two glass strips in the floor that you couldn't help but looking through). Anna was the first in our group to go; she did it like a champion; no hesitation, no nothing! I was so stoked for her and seeing her do it gave me a lot of confidence. My confidence just snow-balled from there; I began to get way more excited than scared!
I was the next one in our group to go; I did some poses for the tourist trap camera (it costs $45 for 5 pictures!), got briefed on how to pull the release cord to be pulled back up once it was over and before I knew it I was on the edge, face to face with the beast! All the excitement and confidence I had built up in the previous 20 minutes instantly diminished with one good look down into the seemingly endless canyon. I got so scared all of a sudden, I thought about backing out of the jump, but then the guy started counting down...5, 4, 3, 2,1 and I just put it all aside and went for it! The freefall was by far the most intense feeling I've ever had; it was terrifying but insanely fun at the same time! I felt the slight tension of the bungee cord and what a feeling that was; that meant I did it! The freefall was insane, but I was glad it was over! I breathed the biggest sigh of relief ever, once I did the first bounce up I reached for the release cord and it flipped me into an upright sitting position. As I was being hoisted up to the room my head was turning left and right, looking at the canyon I had just conquered out of pure joy; it was one of the greatest feelings of my life!
I was raised to the room full of travel companions and friends that were so excited for me, it was awesome! I told them how incredible it was and how pumped I was for the rest of them to do it, and then all of a sudden I yell out, “I want to do it again”! From there I stood by and encouraged everyone else in our crew; Pernilla didn't even flinch when she did hers, Garrett was just ridiculous and naked and then it was Malin's turn! She stepped up to the edge a bit scared as expected from anyone who is scared of heights. She let out a few war cries and boom she was out of sight! When she returned to the room she had the happiest look on her face and we all watched her bask in joy like proud parents. To watch someone overcome a major fear in their life right in front of your eyes is really special...Malin, if you're reading this, we just want to let you know you are incredible, skal!
Our group was all put on the same cart to be shipped back to the bungee base camp. The short ride went along with a soundtrack of screams, yells, laughter and of course some Swedish babble from the girls. The mood on the bus ride back was a completely different than the ride there. There was no more awkward silence, just laughs and cheers. I was still completely amped so I rode back literally bouncing up and down to my iPod... Crookers, Bloody Beetroots and friends to match the way I was feeling. I felt like I was on some sort of crazy drug; I wanted to jump out of my seat, run around screaming, punch stuff and have a few cocktails all at the same time...weird!
The first stop we made when we got back into town was the liquor store to get some party favors for the night; we were all so excited we had to go out and celebrate! We got back to the campervan, got ready, threw on some tunes, hung the disco balls and we were ready to rock! Anna and Pernilla taught us some crazy Swedish drinking game that I won't even try to explain, but it involves cards and calling people's bluffs. I'm not sure what it was called, but I named it “Blackout and Throw-up All Over Yourself” because it is completely ridiculous. You end up taking anywhere from 2-14 sips from your drink every time a card is flipped and there are 15 cards on the table. Needless to say things got pretty crazy/sloppy real quick!
We quickly consume all the alcohol at our makeshift pre-party and head out for the bars. The first stop was a place called Buffalo. It was dark with curious red lighting inside and the ground was littered with peanut shells. We quickly made our presence known in the bar to the dismay of everyone else. Ida hit some girl behind us with a peanut shell on accident and then I did the same thing to another girl somehow. Then Ida and Anna decide it’s a good idea to put peanuts down my shirt so we are all squirming around yelling within five minutes of being inside. We were that group of people in the bar that everyone hates, but we could care less; we were all so stoked on life from the bungee jump nothing could drag us down! To make things worse for everyone in the bar, but better for us, we bump into two other Swedish girls that our girls met on then ferry to the South Island...random! This only adds to the energy of our already hyper group; what are the odds that we would run into them? Their names are Anna and Kristin and they are from Gothemburg. They are both blond and blue eyed and fit the Swedish stereotype like none other. We all instantly hit it off and quickly invite our two new friends to join our whirlwind of drunken debauchery and they oblige. We leave Buffalo and storm down the silent streets of Queenstown like bats out of hell that drink vodka instead of blood. As if four Swedish girls weren't enough, now we have six, its almost unfair! Garrett and I just chuckle to each other, we're on cloud 9!
We stumble through the bar district, which is pretty quiet and people look at us like we have “Kick Me” signs on our backs or something; we very well could have at that point though and I don't think any of us would of known. Then Malin, who happens to be about 5'10”, decides to pick up a random construction cone and thrust it over her head and belt out an intense battle cry; everyone in the streets decides at that point that we are all insane! We ask around to try and find some good bars, but everyone says Wednesday nights are dead everywhere. Luckily we have a group big enough to make a party where ever we go. We're marching down the street determined to find a decent bar when the security guard from some jazz bar stops us and hands us drink tickets for $2 tap beers at his bar. The girls beg for a bunch of drink tickets and they get about ten each. Excited to use all the drink tickets we all run into the bar. There are about fifteen people in the whole place, but there is an amazing live band playing funk. We instantly make a drunken dance floor directly in front of the band; everyone in the whole place is pointing at us...I love it! Our amazing dance party lasts for a solid hour and we decide it's time to raise hell elsewhere. We end up at a place called Winnie's; its completely dead inside, but we make quite the entrance with our entourage and proceed to create yet another dance floor. Winnies had a roof that opened up which was really cool, but what's more is it started to sprinkle a bit. So here I was dancing the night away with 5 really good friends and two new ones to house music, inside a bar, but in the rain....what??? That just put the icing on the cake for me! Our euphoric night continued for about an hour more and we decided to call it a night, but not before one last stop at Ferg Burger. I had yet another best burger of my life and thus ended an insanely amazing day on that note...I love New Zealand!!!
Friday, October 31, 2008
Fox Glacier: [Oct 13]
Wandering with open eyes and simple curiosity allows you to discover a much richer pleasure—the simple feeling of possibility humming in every direction as you move from place to place. -Rolf Potts
The glacier itself is a sight to see. It lies in a lush valley. Massive cliffs soar on either side, striped in skinny waterfalls. Snow-capped mountains lie in the background to complete the amazing picture that is Fox Glacier. The glacier appears to be crawling down the valley at a snails pace, which it is... the guide told us it advances a mere 20 centimeters per day. To me, the glacier is a bit of a mystery because the area surrounding it is forest-like terrain, not snow, and not very cold. But regardless, it is there and we took full advantage of its mysterious existence.
After being fitted with wool sox and boots by our guides Chris and Passang a.k.a. “Sherpa”, we take the short 5 minute bus ride. Before we know it we're on the glacier trail. The hike is both exciting and invigorating! The glacier is this magnificent piece of ice that has been there for hundreds of years, if not thousands, and there we were about to explore it. Not many people get this opportunity!
Within the first few minutes of being on the glacier we walk through narrow halls of ice two feet wide and ten feet tall...spectacular! One of the coolest things about doing a full day hike, as opposed to a half day, is there is no set path. The guides pretty much play it by ear and wander around looking for cool stuff to show you, all the while carving out steps with axes as they lead you on your unique trip. We crawl through ice caves, throw ice chunks down 30 meter (90ft) crevis', have a few glacier dance parties, and take many pictures. Garrett dropped his walking stick down a pretty deep crevis. His puzzling yet hilarious explanation: “I don't know what happened, my boot just kicked the stick!”
So a few days before we did the hike, Garrett got the brilliant idea to strip off all of his clothes and swim in a pool on the glacier, and he couldn't have been more stoked on the idea! So throughout the hike we all had our eyes peeled for a deep enough pool for the crazy kid to jump in, as we all naturally wanted to see it happen. We had a few candidates throughout the day, but couldn't find a lake suitable for Garrett's naked white ass to grace his presence with. But on our walk back to the bus following our all day hike we come around a bend and an there it is, an electric green lake with GARRETT written all over it! Garrett B-lines it to the shore, strips down to his boxers and dives right in! The pool was not actually on the glacier, but it was surrounded by huge blocks of ice, and the bottom was ice, so the
water was still damn cold!
All and all, the Fox Glacier hike was a completely unique experience that I will never forget, and I would say it is a must for anyone visiting the South Island of New Zealand…CHEERS!!!
Friday, October 24, 2008
Meditation 1
3 nights of going away parties settles you into an exhausted state of repose. The clock hands are sitting with their feet together. No sunset, too much drizzle. Thinking about the many kind people who encouraged me to write of a book. Perhaps it's a good idea. Try some meditative posts. Emotions, thoughts, intimacies. Ponder and recount them often.
Go to the Belgian cafe where you chilled on your birthday morning, where that sweet French waitress brought you that amazing omelette, the one called 'The Hang-Over', and those two perfect soy Lattes. Damn the coffee's good here! iPod's dead. Take it as a blessing, an omen to plug into Auckland. I'm at a big wooden table; could easily accommodate 12 yet it's only me and an English couple; we exchange smiles. They talk like old lovers. They behave like old lovers. Beautiful.
Got well acquainted with another Swedish girl last night. Wonderful bird. That uncanny aura that surrounded her. Such wholesomeness. Such grace. Eyes so blue, that rare electric shade you see in adds for contact lenses. Sincere eyes that emanate joy and goodness. Purely positive eyes that contain the humble secrets of the universe. I'm longing for the opportunity to stare into them again: they taught so much. It was a beautiful night. In Sydney she awaits.
Prneella tugs at my heart, yet the futility of any serious love affair is clear. Finish my drink and notice the cafe filling up; leave and walk down the main drag. A million gentle rain drops kiss my face. A group of Chinese, perhaps 150 deep from all generations, are parading down the opposite sidewalk protesting the travesties of Red China. One sign reads “Stop the harvest of live human organs. 3,200 innocent people tortured.” The suited man in front chants a demand over his megaphone. The procession repeats. Another demand. The choir repeats.
I arrive at a 24 hr coffee house. Half past 6. Another soy latte. Damn the coffee's good here. Backpackers are a new breed indeed. The vast majority naturally share interests, values, and freedom; there is a common understanding that each has his or her own agenda; close relationships smoothly form and dissolve. Most seek simple happiness—to talk and laugh and party and play like old friends, knowing they will never cross paths again. Open, curious, and accepting... neither judgmental nor materialistic... a wondrous return to innocence... beautiful. We live with these people and they live with us, completely out of our backpacks. A consequent trust exists and deepens these fluid friendships.
That funny round boy at our hostel. Pale stubbly face. Bald. 30ish. He wanders around talking to himself, often complaining about something. Plays a violin in the streets for money. Needs lessons. Strange lifestyle choice. In Taupo there were the 2 honeymooning video-game programmers who were kind enough to share a few drinks. Not the most social people: semi-awkward, spoke little, used unnecessary intellectual vocabulary, dude had a receding hairline and a curly red ponytail, girl never really looked up. But we had a ball together and wildly danced the night away. At Blue Lake in Rotorua there was Lee the English Army Officer who was on holiday with his lovely girlfriend. What a couple. Talked guy things with Lee and within 10 minutes he ran off to pick up beer. Rad. Returned with 2 cases of Corona. We were pretty pissed up after the first lot but he jabbed “the England finish.” OH YEAH!? Stayed up 'til 3am immersed in enlightening conversation, namely travel, military, and home. Demanded when we go to London we call him so he can take us out for proper English pub-life. You're the man Lee!
Had a Snicker's bar and 2 lattes for lunch. Stomach ache. Worth it. Sydney tomorrow at 1:45pm. Stoked to meet up with Maskell, Kary, & Crystal. They'll be the first of our SD friends over seas. Greek Aztecs are a different breed as well... gnarly debauchery is guaranteed. Smiling. Fuzzy feeling. Lol.
Small birds keep flying into the coffee house. Harmless little buggers. Help out the staff by cleaning the floor. Look at 'em. Just hopping around. All beige and cute and shit. Just twitching their heads. Checking things out. Pecking at crumbs. One has a single yellow feather.
Del made an impression. 6'3”. Keg belly, steel-toe boots, dirty jeans, faded Slayer shirt. 32ish. Those two demon wings tatooed on his shaved scalp and all the other hellish tats. Teeth stained grey. Left canine missing. Heavy silver decorating his hands. I ate bacon and eggs (sunny side up) and he downed beer. Told me about his two friends who scaled the 20 meter rafters at a Metallica concert. James Hetfield stopped the show and asked them to get down. One of those guys died last month. He was on the toilet. The other was named Chaos. Took off 2 years back. Nobody's heard from him since. “To each his own right man?” He looks down, eyes glaze over, slowly smiles a grin of somber nostalgia. “Ye. But I mes tha dam cuont. Ya know?”
Catch a girl staring at me from across the cafe. Plastic chain necklace, green jacket, pink skirt, black tights, orange timberland boots. 18ish. There's room for everyone in this wild world. Individuality keeps things interesting.
Coffee house keeps playing Beyonce songs. Time to go. Indian food tonight: chicken korma and naan bread: Mollin's favorite.
Go to the Belgian cafe where you chilled on your birthday morning, where that sweet French waitress brought you that amazing omelette, the one called 'The Hang-Over', and those two perfect soy Lattes. Damn the coffee's good here! iPod's dead. Take it as a blessing, an omen to plug into Auckland. I'm at a big wooden table; could easily accommodate 12 yet it's only me and an English couple; we exchange smiles. They talk like old lovers. They behave like old lovers. Beautiful.
Got well acquainted with another Swedish girl last night. Wonderful bird. That uncanny aura that surrounded her. Such wholesomeness. Such grace. Eyes so blue, that rare electric shade you see in adds for contact lenses. Sincere eyes that emanate joy and goodness. Purely positive eyes that contain the humble secrets of the universe. I'm longing for the opportunity to stare into them again: they taught so much. It was a beautiful night. In Sydney she awaits.
Prneella tugs at my heart, yet the futility of any serious love affair is clear. Finish my drink and notice the cafe filling up; leave and walk down the main drag. A million gentle rain drops kiss my face. A group of Chinese, perhaps 150 deep from all generations, are parading down the opposite sidewalk protesting the travesties of Red China. One sign reads “Stop the harvest of live human organs. 3,200 innocent people tortured.” The suited man in front chants a demand over his megaphone. The procession repeats. Another demand. The choir repeats.
I arrive at a 24 hr coffee house. Half past 6. Another soy latte. Damn the coffee's good here. Backpackers are a new breed indeed. The vast majority naturally share interests, values, and freedom; there is a common understanding that each has his or her own agenda; close relationships smoothly form and dissolve. Most seek simple happiness—to talk and laugh and party and play like old friends, knowing they will never cross paths again. Open, curious, and accepting... neither judgmental nor materialistic... a wondrous return to innocence... beautiful. We live with these people and they live with us, completely out of our backpacks. A consequent trust exists and deepens these fluid friendships.
That funny round boy at our hostel. Pale stubbly face. Bald. 30ish. He wanders around talking to himself, often complaining about something. Plays a violin in the streets for money. Needs lessons. Strange lifestyle choice. In Taupo there were the 2 honeymooning video-game programmers who were kind enough to share a few drinks. Not the most social people: semi-awkward, spoke little, used unnecessary intellectual vocabulary, dude had a receding hairline and a curly red ponytail, girl never really looked up. But we had a ball together and wildly danced the night away. At Blue Lake in Rotorua there was Lee the English Army Officer who was on holiday with his lovely girlfriend. What a couple. Talked guy things with Lee and within 10 minutes he ran off to pick up beer. Rad. Returned with 2 cases of Corona. We were pretty pissed up after the first lot but he jabbed “the England finish.” OH YEAH!? Stayed up 'til 3am immersed in enlightening conversation, namely travel, military, and home. Demanded when we go to London we call him so he can take us out for proper English pub-life. You're the man Lee!
Had a Snicker's bar and 2 lattes for lunch. Stomach ache. Worth it. Sydney tomorrow at 1:45pm. Stoked to meet up with Maskell, Kary, & Crystal. They'll be the first of our SD friends over seas. Greek Aztecs are a different breed as well... gnarly debauchery is guaranteed. Smiling. Fuzzy feeling. Lol.
Small birds keep flying into the coffee house. Harmless little buggers. Help out the staff by cleaning the floor. Look at 'em. Just hopping around. All beige and cute and shit. Just twitching their heads. Checking things out. Pecking at crumbs. One has a single yellow feather.
Del made an impression. 6'3”. Keg belly, steel-toe boots, dirty jeans, faded Slayer shirt. 32ish. Those two demon wings tatooed on his shaved scalp and all the other hellish tats. Teeth stained grey. Left canine missing. Heavy silver decorating his hands. I ate bacon and eggs (sunny side up) and he downed beer. Told me about his two friends who scaled the 20 meter rafters at a Metallica concert. James Hetfield stopped the show and asked them to get down. One of those guys died last month. He was on the toilet. The other was named Chaos. Took off 2 years back. Nobody's heard from him since. “To each his own right man?” He looks down, eyes glaze over, slowly smiles a grin of somber nostalgia. “Ye. But I mes tha dam cuont. Ya know?”
Catch a girl staring at me from across the cafe. Plastic chain necklace, green jacket, pink skirt, black tights, orange timberland boots. 18ish. There's room for everyone in this wild world. Individuality keeps things interesting.
Coffee house keeps playing Beyonce songs. Time to go. Indian food tonight: chicken korma and naan bread: Mollin's favorite.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
[Oct 21] Surf Lessons, Kids Are Funny, Solace
Back at the Auckland Hostel, in the lounge where I first met Eeda, sitting in a red and black beanbag chair. A wonderful breeze is floating in through the window, the skies are overcast with frequent spits of drizzle. It's 12:17pm. On the tele is NZ’s version of Jerry Springer. The topic is "I'll forgive you for sleeping with my friend if you take me back." Good gawd. Bradon's recounting the final adventures of South Island, post it soon. Prneela, Mollin, & Ahna flew out yesterday, Eeda this morning. Had quite the last hurrahs... I'm amidst a tough fight with an invisible monkey. He's sitting on my shoulders punching my skull. Bastard keeps ranting on about that double vodka-cranberry at 4am. Wrote the following on Oct. 21st...
The beach town of Raglan is situated beside a long massive bay— downtown consists of 4 quaint blocks. Most people walk around barefoot or sandaled rain or shine. Each shop is full of character: a rustic coffee house, a minimalist boutique, an island-themed pub/ burger/ smoothie place, a huge antique hotel, a street of surf shops called Volcom Lane, a fittingly run-down supermarket... complete with staff of short elderly people whose tender accents are often impossible to understand. The plump man working at the video store gave us warm chocolate chip cookies. Mmmmm. On that note, the employees of each shop are among the kindest Kiwis (native New Zealander) you'll meet. They glow when asked questions. They don't merely provide directions and what not, they reach out and offer advice like old friends.
10am. Drive to the beach in hopes of riding the world's longest left but it's blown out. Check out the La Jolla Shores equivelant instead: 3 miles of black sand all to yourselves! Teach the ladies how to surf and their personalities really shine. Mollin ignores most advice and just charges. It's quite entertaining. She's very sweet, classy, and polite, yet competitive as all hell. During athletics she curses worse than a sailor in the most adorable Swedish accent— her vocab in the water is out of control! By the day's end she's surfing like a pro. Ahna's surfed before and needed just a few pointers. Got it down quick. Prneella doesn't stop giggling and bouncing the entire day. You try to help her but get over it quick... your rented wetsuit is completely full of holes and your toes become frozen white raisins. You return to the warm sand and pass out in the sun. Brad takes over teaching and from the shore you wake to Prneella dropping in on inside breaks. Nice!
This morning you and Brad eat at a bakery/cafe which offers every food and drink imaginable: everything from butter-curry chicken, Hawaiian-style lamb burgers, and baked ham quiche, to fudge cookies, white chocolate pies, and apricot milkshakes. It's operated by a Vietnamese family who cant speak a lick of English, aside from the father who apparently doesn't know the word 'profit margin' because portions are totally excessive and dirt cheap. LOVE IT!
**Sidenote. Ahna just said that Yahtzee is essential to most Swedish girls' travel items. You tell her in the states even old people won't resort to playing the stupid game. Laughter. The girls enthusiastically begin a 17 game tournament. Dumbfounded. Whatever awesome Swedish chicks!
So you're eating at this cafe when all of a sudden a Kiwi boy no older than 4 runs in beaming a naive ear-to-ear grin. His brunette head is over-proportioned so his run is more of a bobbley zig zag, feet fly every which way. As he trots his curious eyes scan the display case. Chips. Gradually his frenzied flip-flop slows to a careful ninja prowl, then to a dramatic stare. Rigidly he stands at attention before the fried potato slices. Every muscle tenses and he begins to shake and cringe in overwhelming excitement. “Ouww maai gaawd! Ouwww maaiii gaawd! Ma theiv got cheeips!” Vigorously he claps and hops. “CHEEIPS! MA CHEEIPS! OUW MAI GAWD MA CHEEIPS!” His buddy runs over but doesn't stop in time and plows him down. Sees the chips. “OUW MAI GAWD WOW!”.... “Yea dear they've gout waurm cheips” The 1st boy jumps up and races over to the beverage case. “Oim thrstay.” Opens the door and touches everything. You approach the counter, request a glass of ice water, turn back and see another small kiwi boy, no older than 3 with strawberry-blond locks and red ink smeared across his cheeks. He wobbles to your table and does a little jig in front of your steaming Americano, sings nonsensical kiwi babble, reaches for the mug but Brad gets his attention just in time. The funny kid wobbles back to his mum. Good morning Raglan!
Return to the RV at 11am. It's the last day on the road trip. Driving this boat around the country was thrilling! Floored it as much as possible, felt like that hellish ice cream truck from the Twisted Metal video game, yelled things like "Yeah! Yeah!" and "Whooo wee!" Leave NZ in 6 days... a little bummed but it seems when any great chapter concludes, or begins, time slows and life grows— an uncanny glitter shines throughout everything. The mere presence of certain people transcends into profound experience. You notice— no rather you appreciate, so much more. Specifics become massive. Silence is louder than conversation.
The weather is much nicer now, however, a chilly spring breeze rushes in off the water. The campground is amazing. 3 long electric fields of grass. Swedes are stoked on more American football. Some are in town using the net. Ahna, Prneela, Brad, & you are enjoying the fact that there's no more sights to see, nowhere else to explore, nothing to plan, no worries.
One night back in the states I relaxed in my jacuzzi with a wise girl... she sipped her wine, looked at the stars, smiled and said “Just Livin.”
Ahna, Prneela, & Mallin getting pumped up
I cant understand your language!
The beach town of Raglan is situated beside a long massive bay— downtown consists of 4 quaint blocks. Most people walk around barefoot or sandaled rain or shine. Each shop is full of character: a rustic coffee house, a minimalist boutique, an island-themed pub/ burger/ smoothie place, a huge antique hotel, a street of surf shops called Volcom Lane, a fittingly run-down supermarket... complete with staff of short elderly people whose tender accents are often impossible to understand. The plump man working at the video store gave us warm chocolate chip cookies. Mmmmm. On that note, the employees of each shop are among the kindest Kiwis (native New Zealander) you'll meet. They glow when asked questions. They don't merely provide directions and what not, they reach out and offer advice like old friends.
10am. Drive to the beach in hopes of riding the world's longest left but it's blown out. Check out the La Jolla Shores equivelant instead: 3 miles of black sand all to yourselves! Teach the ladies how to surf and their personalities really shine. Mollin ignores most advice and just charges. It's quite entertaining. She's very sweet, classy, and polite, yet competitive as all hell. During athletics she curses worse than a sailor in the most adorable Swedish accent— her vocab in the water is out of control! By the day's end she's surfing like a pro. Ahna's surfed before and needed just a few pointers. Got it down quick. Prneella doesn't stop giggling and bouncing the entire day. You try to help her but get over it quick... your rented wetsuit is completely full of holes and your toes become frozen white raisins. You return to the warm sand and pass out in the sun. Brad takes over teaching and from the shore you wake to Prneella dropping in on inside breaks. Nice!
This morning you and Brad eat at a bakery/cafe which offers every food and drink imaginable: everything from butter-curry chicken, Hawaiian-style lamb burgers, and baked ham quiche, to fudge cookies, white chocolate pies, and apricot milkshakes. It's operated by a Vietnamese family who cant speak a lick of English, aside from the father who apparently doesn't know the word 'profit margin' because portions are totally excessive and dirt cheap. LOVE IT!
**Sidenote. Ahna just said that Yahtzee is essential to most Swedish girls' travel items. You tell her in the states even old people won't resort to playing the stupid game. Laughter. The girls enthusiastically begin a 17 game tournament. Dumbfounded. Whatever awesome Swedish chicks!
So you're eating at this cafe when all of a sudden a Kiwi boy no older than 4 runs in beaming a naive ear-to-ear grin. His brunette head is over-proportioned so his run is more of a bobbley zig zag, feet fly every which way. As he trots his curious eyes scan the display case. Chips. Gradually his frenzied flip-flop slows to a careful ninja prowl, then to a dramatic stare. Rigidly he stands at attention before the fried potato slices. Every muscle tenses and he begins to shake and cringe in overwhelming excitement. “Ouww maai gaawd! Ouwww maaiii gaawd! Ma theiv got cheeips!” Vigorously he claps and hops. “CHEEIPS! MA CHEEIPS! OUW MAI GAWD MA CHEEIPS!” His buddy runs over but doesn't stop in time and plows him down. Sees the chips. “OUW MAI GAWD WOW!”.... “Yea dear they've gout waurm cheips” The 1st boy jumps up and races over to the beverage case. “Oim thrstay.” Opens the door and touches everything. You approach the counter, request a glass of ice water, turn back and see another small kiwi boy, no older than 3 with strawberry-blond locks and red ink smeared across his cheeks. He wobbles to your table and does a little jig in front of your steaming Americano, sings nonsensical kiwi babble, reaches for the mug but Brad gets his attention just in time. The funny kid wobbles back to his mum. Good morning Raglan!
Return to the RV at 11am. It's the last day on the road trip. Driving this boat around the country was thrilling! Floored it as much as possible, felt like that hellish ice cream truck from the Twisted Metal video game, yelled things like "Yeah! Yeah!" and "Whooo wee!" Leave NZ in 6 days... a little bummed but it seems when any great chapter concludes, or begins, time slows and life grows— an uncanny glitter shines throughout everything. The mere presence of certain people transcends into profound experience. You notice— no rather you appreciate, so much more. Specifics become massive. Silence is louder than conversation.
The weather is much nicer now, however, a chilly spring breeze rushes in off the water. The campground is amazing. 3 long electric fields of grass. Swedes are stoked on more American football. Some are in town using the net. Ahna, Prneela, Brad, & you are enjoying the fact that there's no more sights to see, nowhere else to explore, nothing to plan, no worries.
One night back in the states I relaxed in my jacuzzi with a wise girl... she sipped her wine, looked at the stars, smiled and said “Just Livin.”
Ahna, Prneela, & Mallin getting pumped up
I cant understand your language!
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