Searching for the Essence of Sydney

Sometimes it’s a challenge to differentiate cities from oneanother. Tall buildings, bustling crowds, men and women on cell phones sporting suits and leather bags. But after a day or two of smelling, tasting and seeing Sydney, it's unique flavor was revealed.

The plane from New Zealand spit me onto the city pavement before most residents had enjoyed their second cup of morning tea. I had until 5:30 to meander the city with my backpack before my couchsurfing host, Brett, would pick me up after work.

I landed dazed and confused, without any understanding of the city's design or transportation system, and I was without a map.

From the airport I took a train to the city center, found an overpriced internet shop to stow my bag and spent more change on a city bus so I could catch my bearings while touring the downtown.

Sorry…I’m out of computer time at the moment. I will finish the Sydney intro shortly.

Ulladulla

Three hours south of Sydney rests Ulladulla, a small surfing town with one pub, a few shops, a video rental store and beautiful beaches that attract a heavy flow of tourists during the summer months. It’s not unlike most small town where a trip to the grocery store is interrupted by five familiar faces and casual conversation, but life on the coast is breezy and everyone is coming from or heading to the ocean with surf board and sun block in tow.

At 5:30 p.m. on Friday, I made the journey to Ulladulla with Kim, my Sydney couchsurfing host. Ironically Kim’s friends were having a gathering at their holiday home 20 minutes south of Ulladulla the same weekend that I wanted to visit the town.

My trip to Ulladulla was inspired by Laura, a girl I’d met in New Zealand. (Laura dated Ben, one of the boys who I befriended in Whangarei, NZ. He lived in the flat with George, Sam and Frankie – the crew I spent my final two weeks in the country with, so I spent a great deal of time with Laura too.)

Laura arranged for me to stay with her mom, Donna, who was already hosting, Hannah, one of Laura’s friends, who is temporarily staying in the same household until she can move into her new flat. Fortunately Donna has two spare bedrooms and although she had a full household I was given my own space and queen sized bed.

During the 48 hours that I spent under the care of Donna were relaxed and enjoyable. Hannah took me surfing for first time – I stood up on the third try and absolutely loved it even though I swallowed a great deal of salt water (the water was still running out of my nose two hours later) and I suffered a sand “rug” burn on my bum when I was pummeled into the beach by a wave. We, including Emily, another of Laura’s friends, had breakfasts and lunches together at beautiful cafes, shopped around antique stores looking at art, cloths and accessories, went swimming at the beach and lounged around during the lazy afternoon between the girls’ work shifts.

I also acquired half a dozen new clothing items from Laura’s old wardrobe (free of charge) that were destined for a garage sale – much appreciated because I realized my shorts had a huge whole in the crotch.

The weather turned stormy Saturday night and Donna and I rented movies and noodles and camped out in the house, waiting for Hannah to come home from work.

The weekend was full of casual fun, lots of coffees, clothes, chocolate and overall “girlie” indulgences that I haven’t entertained for some time.

At 3 p.m. Sunday afternoon Kim picked me up and the two of us drove back up to Sydney.

So long Ulladulla, thank you Donna, Laura, Hannah and Emily for inviting me into your lives for one fabulous weekend.

The Land of Oz

Family and friends I've landed safe and sound in Syndey, Australia...more updates soon.

Cheers

Farewell Friends, New Zealand

The 110 days that I spent traveling around New Zealand exceeded my expectations. I'd heard about miles of beaches, rolling mountains, layed-back locals, but I didn't expect to experience so much love and admiration for the country and it's people.

The hospitality and openness was incredible. On Friday Olivia and Christina, a local mom and daughter, picked me up hitchhiking my way to the Ocean Beach. Our conversation exceeded the limited car ride, so the pair, along with the girl's father, met me at the beach a few hours later. After a swim they invited me to their home for dinner and offered to board me for the night. Their lovely home with a sea-view was tempting, but instead of a bed I requested a lift back into town where my Kiwi friends in Whangarei were awaiting my return.

Life in New Zealand was cruisey. I met people like Olivia and Christina who went out of their way to make my stay here incredible.

Friends here became family and they will remain dear to me. Sam, Ben, George and Franky gave me space in their Whangarei flat (I rotated between their place and John and Robyn's, which was a bit out of town), dinners with their families, countless rides to the highway, and looked out for my safety. Lucky for us facebook exists to help maintain long-distance friendships. I'm even staying with Laura's (Ben's girlfriend) mom while I'm in Australia and she's arranged for her friend Helen to take me surfing. The plans keep rolling out for me, and they are far better than I could have ever arranged on my own!

John and Robyn took me in for two whole weeks, loaned a car to us (the seven of us travelers who they met in a Northland art gallery back in October -- During the past months we have rotated possession of the vehicle.) and acted as New Zealand parents, checking in on my whereabouts, making sure I was eating enough, giving me access to the washing machine and unlimiited shower access. Their only request is a invitation to my wedding someday; they obviously don't mind waiting awhile for this reimbursement.

For these folks and the hundreds of others who contributed to making my New Zealand experience sensational I am eternally grateful.

Getting ready to go

Much to the horror of some family and friends, I will be on my own again in Australia and off and on for the remainder of my travels. At 7 a.m. Wednesday, January 20, I will fly from the Auckland to Sydney, while Katie and Brian will remain in New Zealand until January 31 before they fly to Brisbane, Australia.

We will all be meeting on February 18 in Sydney to fly to Malaysia.

On January 28 I will fly alone to Tasmania, a portion of Australia detached from the mainland to the south, and then back to Sydney on February 16.

I couldn’t have predicted how plans would alter, relationships would shift, and opportunities would arise on this journey, but such is life. You adapt to the changes, make the most of modifications and roll with the punches as they come. Katie and I had a wonderful three months traveling together and we will continue to cross paths during the next several months, but our desires are taking us in different directions and we are choosing to support one anther in our individual pursuits. I am very happy that her relationship with Brian is strong and they will have a wonderful and challenging experience on the road together.

As for me, I’m slightly apprehensive but I am more capable and resourceful than I gave myself credit for five months ago before boarding a plane in September headed for Argentina.

My new situation is not better or worse than travelling with a partner, but it is different. I will miss the camaraderie and companionship, but I will flourish in the independence and take advantage of the opportunity to learn and develop myself. Maybe I will even become more introspective and less verbal?

Neither Katie nor I have breached an invisible contract that bound us together, and we will continue our friendship from a distance until our trails shall merge again.

For now, there is much to do, and many goodbyes to say during my final two days in New Zealand. And I'm feeling sad because I'm leaving new and old friends, but it’s been a great ride. Now I’m ready to turn to the next chapter.

Waning Motivation

Cradling my second cup of coffee, and staring out the gloomy sky that has put a gray haze across the ocean and mountains, blurring their edges and fading the horizon line, I'm trying to “get my rear in gear” as my grandma would say.

I don't have any appointments or external motivators to move me, but laying around and wasting my final few day in New Zealand would be a sad ending to an exciting chapter in my travels.

The last couple weeks have found me lacking my usual go- go energy and exploratory vigor. I've seen all the places around Whangarei that I wanted to see, and I don't really have the time to hit the road again since I need to be at the Auckland airport by 3 a.m. Wednesday, which is 6 days away.

Part of my “slow-down” is due to the fact that New Zealand is familiar territory and the quest to conquer a new land has concluded. I've learned the lingo, weather patterns and roads. The adrenaline of survival and discovery isn't necessary anymore. As one guy who picked me up on my way to town yesterday put it “When you first arrive somewhere you know nothing when you need to know it all and by the time you leave you know every trick and none of it's useful anymore.”

After nearly four months I feel less like a foreigner here. So I've become slow about getting out of the house in the mornings, lingering over one, two, maybe three coffees before heading into town or finding a hike or beach to spend the day. All the wonderful possibilities have lost their initial novelty. Plus John and Robyn have provided the comforts of home and I'm no longer fending on my own resourcefulness.

It's nice that I can acclimate quickly to my surroundings, but I don't ever want to take a day for granted. So even though it's started to drizzle outside I will put on my jandles (the Kiwi word for flip-flops) and go for a walk because there are always things to see and do and I don't want to miss out on any possibilities.


After all yesterday when I'd rolled my bum out of bed I found a hike to a beach where I was swimming 20 ft from a school of dolphins who were jumping and frolicking about in the waves.

New Zealand still has a few tricks up her sleeve to discover, and there is always beauty in the familiar to rediscover.

How to Leave a Comment on a Blog Post

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New Zealand Map, reference to where I've been

Here are a couple maps and web sites to reference where I've been.

To check out the interactive maps visit google's map of New Zealand

Or for just the North Island

And the South Island

Plans, Mistakes, and Making Things Happen

Katie and Brian stopped into Whangerei on Friday afternoon to check on my sailing status and inquire if I wanted to ride with them to Russel, a town about two hours north of Whangerei were a weekend festival was being held.

“I'm meeting with Rex to see about sailing with him on his boat “Bequod” then I'm meeting Sam and Andy for a drink, and I will need to let John and Robyn know my plans if I'm going to be gone for the night...” I rattled the list and processed aloud. I had been in Whangerei one week and already I had made plans, created a community and organized activities.

Meeting people and making friends has always been a skill of mine, but also one that made it difficult to leave people and places behind and one that because of the networking opens my eyes to possibilities that I hadn't imagined.

As of January 11, I have nine more days in New Zealand, according to immigration. And today I booked my flight to Australia. Sickened by the sky-high prices, I was forced to pay $285 for a ticket that would have cost $100 a month ago, because I was devoted to my sailing dream and refused to cave until the very last moment. Katie and I tried to refund our Aussi tickets but nothing could be done, and if we don't leave now (when our visitor permits have run out) then we won't be allowed back for an unknown amount of time...not a favorable option.

But I bit the bullet, bought the ticket, and Katie and I will carry on as we had previously planned – for a bit at least. I still hope to sail part of this journey, and I'm thinking about catching a boat from Thailand or maybe return to New Zealand in April to sail the Pacific Island with Rex, a fellow Ohioan who has been sailing since the late 90s and has an interest in third-world countries. Thankfully after Malaysia all my tickets are refundable and Katie would continue traversing the world with Brian- I would be safe and sound at sea.

I had no idea the opportunities that would come about through meeting people and traveling. Katie and I regret buying so many tickets ahead of time and if I could go back and do it again I would buy each one as I went. Now I'm wasting money canceling tickets, spending hours on the phone with airlines and pulling at my new hair-do in frustration- if only I knew then what I know now!

In the meantime, between trips to the marina, flight research and immigration issues, I'm hanging out with my Whangerei friends.

Karma, Sam and Andy, our first hitchhikers

Leaving Taupo, Katie, Brian and I were driving along the highway looking for hitchhikers. We were cruising toward Mercer where Katie and Brian would drop me off with John and Robyn (the couple in Whangerei who had housed our group of seven back in October and given us the car to use during our stay in New Zealand) and then Katie and Brian would continue on to the Coromandel peninsula for the weekend (Katie was taking Brian to Karuna Falls where she and I had wwoofed with Stephanie).

We were keen to find hitchhikers because we owed the universe a debt. After dozens of rides and thousands of free miles we needed to repay the favor and continue the cycle of good deeds.

An hour into our drive we spotted two young guys, overloaded with bags, sitting on the side of the road.

“Are you two hitchhiking!” We all cheered.

“Um, yeah.” They said, a bit taken aback by our enthusiasm. They got in the car anyway.

Sam and Andy, two Kiwi guys in their early 20s, were heading north after spending the holiday with their families. Sam was returning to his job in Whangerei as a boat builder, and Andy was staying with cousins in Sandy Bay in order to improve his surfing skills.

Coincidently I was heading to Whangerei with John and Robyn to see if I could volunteer as a crew member on any sailboat heading to Australia or the Pacific Islands (I've always wanted to learn to sail and many boats leaving the Whangerei marina will take on novice crew-members to assist the skipper, or so I had been told by a French girl who picked Katie and I up in the South Island. I was motivated to follow my dream through, so I was planning to stay with John and Robyn in Whangerei until someone took me aboard).

Sam offered to show me around the harbor and ask around on my behalf.

Unfortunately all the contacts in the world couldn't get me on a boat. My timing coincided with the hurricane season and no one was planning a trip across the Tasman until April. I networked at every major harbor north of Auckland , but nothing was to be found. I've enjoyed my search, however, thanks to our hichhikers.

Andy spent the day with me while I toiled around Auckland's massive marina, which is the largest in the Southern Hemishphere. And Sam and his friends here in Whangerei, where I've been crashing at John and Robyn's for almost two weeks, have included me in on nights on the town, jet skiing, wakeboarding and BBQs. They have done many more favors for me than the hour drive they hitched with Katie, Brian and I deserved.

I don't know what I did to deserve such good fortune, but it will be a challenge to repay in this lifetime

Mundane chore, near tragedy

During the past couple weeks I've been thinking about cutting my hair. Nothing serious, just a cleanup of dead, split ends that I've acquired from nearly four months of inattentiveness, salt water, sun and hot springs full of minerals that are healing to the body and horrendous for my hair, leaving it crunchy for days after a soak.

The final straw came when a friend went to play with my hair but found the texture so unappealing that she immediately stopped and commented on my follicles' condition. I decided something needed to be done.

I would have preferred to find a friend to snip away at my hair for free, but finding no takers (and not having the right scissors for the job) I went to town in search of cheap salons.

After price comparing every stylist in town I reluctantly returned to Anna, a British citizen in New Zealand on a work-visa who worked in a vacant salon down the road from the car rental shops on Dent St.

She was bubbly and talkative as I unwillingly parted with my $25 and sat in her spinning chair.

“I just want the ends trimmed,” I politely instructed.

“I think your hair could use a few layers to give it some more body and lift,” she said as she held chunks of dead, lifeless hair.

I couldn't argue, the evidence of lifelessness was in her pink-manicured hand, so I said “Ok. I guess a few layers would be fine.” And without missing a beat, she lifted a section of hair from the roof of my head and cut five inches that tumbled to the ground, over my shoulder, and eventually, with a loud thud (which was probably just my heart hitting the bottom of my stomach) hit the floor.

She continued to hack away for another 15 minutes until I had a modified mullet. The front of my hair lays just below my cheekbones and the back falls down to my shoulders, and there is nothing “gradual” or layered about the situation. It is severe. Like stair steps, varying levels of hair length from top to bottom and front to back. Thank goodness tipping isn't customary in New Zealand because I don't think I could have mustered the strength to open my wallet for her a second time.

I left the shop, muttered a good-bye, and put my dark sunglasses on as I walked down the street in search of a secluded bench where I could grapple with the situation and collect my bearings. Normally a bad haircut isn't this traumatic, but on a limited budget, and one haircut every four-five months, the results of her handy-work will adorn me for some time.

Over and over I repeated the mantra “I'm not concerned with how I look, I'm not concerned with how I look.” But honestly, a vain thought would probably pass through my head even if I was secluded in a shack in Antarctica – you never know who may drop in.

So this is my most recent lesson in humility and learning to not care what others think. I'm in a country full of strangers who have no preconception of how I looked pre-mullet, so I guess they'll have to take this version of me as I am.

At least the core of me is still the same, no matter how sad a situation my hair sits in.

Some photos by Brian Ernst (Katie's boyfriend), an excellent photographer

Since I have been without a camera since early October -- my camera suffered massive sand damage during a hike through Northland's sand dunes and could not be salvaged -- I am "borrowing" my friends' snap shot. I intend to buy a new camera, eventually...


A southern alps sunset



Views from the ferry between the North and South Island


Gisborn, the first place in the world to see the sunrise.


Fields of flowers carpet the earth around Central Otago, the middle of the South Island (Katie took this photo)


Lake Rotoiti, where I celebrated Christmas with the Rainey family in their holiday home.


Boating in the misty rain on lake Rotoiti


Mount Aspiring, in Wanaka (a town in the South Island). I drove 45 minutes with Kevin from California down a dirt road and hiked 2 hrs up Mount Aspiring to see glaciers. Lucky me...Kevin had picked me up hitchhiking to Okarito two days earlier and invited me to join him on this amazing hike after we ran into each other in Wanaka.

Wheels

Katie, Brian and I are back on the road, driving when, where and how we want thanks to the wheels we have recently re-acquired from Katie and Cat (the Canadians Katie and I had traveled with two months ago). The couple had been using the car that we had all been given to share and now that the two Canadians are jetting off to the South Island they are leaving custody of the car with us until we return it to its rightful owners, John and Robyn, in Whangerei.

The luxury and convenience of having our own car again comes at a steep price- about $90 a tank of gas that usually lasts about 5 hours of driving. (We estimate that we have saved over $500 dollars by hitchhiking. I’m working on tallying up a more exact number.)

My back feels better with the bag in the trunk and my car supporting it’s weight for awhile – plus now my pocketbook is losing weight too.

Speaking of my pocketbook…Thank you very much to all the Christmas money I received! It will probably be converted to petrol.

Christmas and New Year's Eve, comfortable in a foreign land

At 6 a.m. on Friday, January 1, I was among a beach crowd watching the first sunrise in the world of 2010.

Wrapped in goose bumps, sitting by Matt, a random drunk who was still carrying around his celebratory box of beer and raving about the New Year’s music festival he’d attended, I anxiously awaited the first ray of light. I’d woken at 5 a.m. to witness this moment and now the ocean waves had entertained my wait. Each rhythmic wave brought to mind the many blessings I have enjoyed in the last 365 days.

One week before my arrival to this beach in Gisborn, which is the first area in the world to see the sun rise and it happened to be the biggest New Year’s Eve musical festival in the country (I did not attend the festival and instead celebrated the start of a New Year with the locals in the town square with a live local band, free ice cream cone, and a full moon over the ocean.), I was blessed to be in Nelson Lake celebrating Christmas with the Rainey family at their holiday home.

After I arrived at the big blue lake house tucked in among trees and forest on the 23rd of December, I enjoyed six days of holiday leisure, lots of food, boating and swimming. My first Christmas away from my family was also my first bathing suit clad Christmas with sunscreen, turdukin (Joe Rainey stuffed a turkey with a duck with a chicken), and a midmeal swim.

At moments, especially after a few phone calls home, I was nostalgic about the Ohio festivities and family I was missing, but as my mom put it “I have a lot of distractions to prevent homesickness.”

The distractions of travel absorb my attention, but knowing that I am loved by my family and friends at home and believing that they too know how much I love them prevents me from feeling detached from the familiar.

I'm blessed to have support near and far from those I've known for years and those I've just met on a beach over a beer.