{Day 16} Deco What?

Do you know what "Art Deco" is? Yea, me neither, until I grabbed my Napier's Self-Guided Art Deco Walking Tour Guide and hit the streets to find out. Here's the scoop. In 1931 an earthquake struck Napier and left quite a bruise. The architecture was destroyed, and the coastal town laid in shambles. During this period, the hairy-armpit known as Paris held an exhibition called Exposition Internationale des Arts Decoratifs et Industriels Modernes. This world's fair got the trendy train moving, and Napier wanted on board. The earthquake had cleaned their slate, and the town was now a blank canvas for something new. This something would be Art Deco! The rebuilding efforts began in 1933, and when completed, Napier was regarded as the most modern city (in terms of architectural design) in the world. Hip hip horray! Today, Art Deco fan-club type of people come from all over the world to walk the streets of Napier. I walked the streets simply because I was there and had "Tourist!" tattooed on my forehead.
(Art Deco's influences are wide and its definition broad, so I assembled this collage to assist you in getting the jidst of it.)

I also came across a group of hippies doing fire acrobatics. They take various household items, douse them in gasoline, and then set them ablaze. Such items included hoola-hoops, balls&chain, and long sticks (like the one the purple Ninja Turtle uses). I think these were the kind of guys who grew up playing with streamers and such, but needed something a bit more manly and mature to do outside in public.

{Day 15} Creation Shouts "Holy!"

"Praise him for his mighty deeds; praise him according to his excellent greatness! Let everything that has breath praise the Lord! Praise the Lord! - Ps. 150

"In His hand are the depths of the earth; the heights of the mountains are his also. The sea is his, for he made it, and his hands formed the dry land. Oh come, let us worship and bow down; let us kneel before the Lord, our Maker! For he is our God, and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand." - Ps. 95:4-6

"Let the sea roar, and all that fills it; the world and those who dwell in it! Let the rivers clap their hands; let the hills sing for joy together before the Lord." - Ps. 98:7-8

"You make springs gush forth in the valleys; they flow between the hills." - Ps. 104:10

{Day 14} Lamb Chop's Sing-Along

Seriously, New Zealand is unreal. I can't believe a place like this exist on earth. And more than that, I can't believe I am currently living in such a place. Take this day for instance. I wake up in Napier (that coastal town), and at the advice of our hostel guy Doug Archie, Richard and I drive 2 hours inland to spend the day hiking the Lake Tutira Long Loop. Think of those first 20 minutes of LOTR: The Fellowship of the Rings. You know the scene introducing Bilbo Baggins, the hobbits, and Hobbiton? This was it. Well, not the it, but remarkably similar. Wide-open pastures. Lush farmland. Steep slopes. Rolling hills. Grass so green I now know what green really is. And sheep. Sheep! Everywhere. From the lake below to the mountain peak above, the sheep were never more than a stone's throw away. No stones were thrown, however we did do a lil' harassing of a different kind...which transitions us beautiful into the story of the day.

While tramping about this mountain, Rich and I stumble upon a unique situation. We find a sheep up on a hill. At the peak of this hill two fence lines converge to a point. We gleefully whispered to one another as we plan our plan of attack. Why we whispered I don't know, for the sheep was clearly staring right at us, and he most likely didn't speak English. Richard runs up the leftish side of the fence line, I take the right. The sheep is bewildered, frightened, and hasn't a clue what is going on. He sees the light at the end of the tunnel and spazzes out. In a last ditch effort to escape, the cotton ball with legs sprints straight for the wire fence. I stood still to watch as the next half second unfolded in slowmo. I was expecting the guy to attempt a hurdle of the fence, but no leap came. Instead the quick little booger sprinted face-first right into the barrier. He nailed it head on. After the recoil, the sheep was even more confused. It was as if he had no idea the fence existed. He quickly shook it off and we let him shamefully run past. We laughed oh so hard for oh so long! Despite many valiant attempts, no sheep was touched our caught that day. But is was a fun one.

In the midst of all that hoorah, the Lord did remind me who I am. I am that stupid sheep. That panicky, forgetful, moronic poof-ball of an animal. But I have a Good Shepherd who broke my twig of a leg, brought me to repentance for my screw-ups, lifted me up, placed me on his shoulder, and lets me get to know him as Father.

• "All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all." - Is. 53:6
• "Know that the Lord, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture." - Ps. 100:3
• "My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand." - Jn. 10:27-28

{Day 13} Superficial Wine Master

Another day in Napier. I wandered around a little and got myself more acquainted with this gem of a town. After passing 174 coffee shops, all of which plagiarize one another's menus, I went for a walk on the seawalk. I came upon this steel ball sitting on a piece of pipe in the middle of a garden. I have not a clue what it is for, but it provided a cool photo opportunity. So I took it.

In the afternoon, Rich and I drove to the edge of town to do a bit of wine tasting. This region (Hawke's Bay) is apparently top notch in the wine industry. It has something to do with good sunlight, underground water sources that are fed from the snow melts above, and a certain kind of rock that absorbs heat and something something. I learned that fine bit of knowledge from our winery tourguide, Miss I-speak-proper-british-accent-very-fast. I could have learned more, but she had a name to live up to. After the tour, the time had come for the tasting. So there we were, two Texan college boys with dainty wine glasses in our nervous hands. The wine aficionado lady gave us sip-sized samples of Reserve Chardonnay, 2-year-oak-aged Merlot, and white label Sauvignon Blanc. We twirled the glasses, sniffed the wine, and sloshed it around on our palates, all the while pretending to know what we're doing. The Miss What'shername would interject, "This 2004 Riesling has delicate tropical fruit and gooseberry aromas. It goes magnificently with seafood, white meats, and Mediterranean pastas. Did you notice the crisp, clean finish?" On queue and in-synch, we both nod our head and respond something along the lines of, "Mmmm, yea, that's a nice one. I do get a hint of fruit." Then comes awkward silence, which I usually avoid by stepping away to the shelves of wine. Here I peer closely each of them, as if pondering a purchase of a $30+ bottle. I'm not sure we ever fooled any of these Misses, but it was fun none the less. So, what advice might I have as a result of my excellent wine tastings? Glad you ask.

• White wines are served chilled. Red's are served kinda chilled. Use your own discretion.
• Red wine is meant to make other stuff (i.e. meat) taste better. Anything tastes more pleasant when consumed after something so dry and bitter as red wine.
• Rubber corks are all the rage right now. Cork is, like, so out!
• Never purchase a bottle less than $4, for you will surely find it filled with Welch's grape juice. I learned from that mistake.
• If I were to recommend one wine for your enjoyment, it would be Dog Rock. This fine bottle from Omaka Springs Estates has a distinct ruby flavor with...actually, um, I've never had it. I saw the bottle in the store last week and I absolutely loved the label. Therefore, I love the wine. It doesn't matter how great the growing season was, or how long the fermentation period lasted; until a competing winery can design a better label than the one adorning Dog Rock, the Dog will forever be the finest bottle of wine.

{Day 12} Cape Kidnappers

This country never ceases to amaze my touring self! It seems more often than not that NZ provides me with those "best ever" moments. For instance - as I previously wrote - Qantas was my best ever flight, and Roberts Ridge was my best ever backpacking trip. This day blessed me by yielding two more "best ever" moments. As I mentioned in my last post, New Zealanders are quite the masters of the sandwich making art. They have proved there skills yet again. This delightful wonder I present to you is my best ever sandwich. She's a beaut, ey?

The second "best ever" of the day was a golf course by the name of Cape Kidnappers. All Richard knew about NZ before arriving 4 months ago was that he had to play this course. His day came, and I got to join him. These 18 world-renown holes are located on the peninsula jutting out into the Cape. This means that the majority of the holes are flanked by the 600 ft. cliffs. While Rich was shooting a valiant round, I was serving as his caddy. This allowed me to experience the sheer beauty of this place without having to throw down some major cash on the greens fee. Frankly, had I attempted to play this course, the frustrations of my finicky skills would have ruined the day. Instead I got to lug around his heavy clubs, take in the sights, and capture some great photos. I think I've discovered the best way to play golf.

{Day 10-11} Up Up & Away

And so begins my journey to the North Island. New Zealand is made up of two separate islands, the top one and the bottom one. These are divided right down the middle by Cook Strait, named after the man responsible for the European discovery of this land. The country itself looks like a "/" with the strait ("-") running straight through the forward slash. I apologize for that horrible keyboard art. Back to the story.

Rich and I traveled northward to the quaint port town of Picton. The next day we arose and made our way across the waters on the 10am ferry. The trip on the sea was wonderful. It's simply hard to beat the sights, sounds, and smells of the ocean. We pulled into the port of Wellington 5 hours later (seen above), rented a little Corolla, and continued our pursuit to the north. Have I yet mentioned that NZ folk drive on the left side for some strange reason? They all do, so that means I was obliged to do so all well. June 10th marks the first day I sat behind a right-sided steering wheel. That was (and still is) quite a thrill. Every passing car makes you think twice. Every street light requires more thought from your skull than a brain on summer break should have to do. Honestly though, it wasn't all that hard to pick up. I screwed up (briefly!) a couple times, but the oncoming headlines always served as very effective reminders. After 300km, we pulled into Napier, a town in the region of Hawke's Bay (the east coast of the North Island). Napier might be one of the greatest places to live on this planet. If I ever return to NZ I'm beeline-ing it straight for this place. The sights are incredible. The weather is remarkable, even when the rest of the country is taking a beating. And the residents are truly friendly and sincere. Napier has won my heart.

{Day 6-9} Making Potty Training Even Harder

While Richard was laboring through classes at the University of Canterbury, I was free to roam around Christchurch and become better acquainted with my home city in New Zealand. This gave me great opportunity to see the sights, taste the culture, and get myself lost a few more times in the unfamiliar maze of downtown. The Cathedral above is the icon of this place. Around this cathedral is Cathedral Square. I know, it all makes perfect sense. The Square is essentially a vast plot of concrete, shops, and tables that serves as the central local for gullible tourists to buy the usual things gullible tourists buy: postcards, sheep wool moccasins, and overpriced 'native' jewelry. I meandered throughout the Square one day, doing some people watching and such. Then I remembered the pack on my back and the Nikon in my hand, and chuckled that I'm mighty touristy myself.

I got this shot one afternoon in a park on city's outskirts. It is a nice little area of grass, trees, birds, stale bread, and other park-ish things. That's about all there is to say about that.

I hope you've read this far down, because this is the meat of the entry. Thus far I have observed many ways (for better & for worse, but mostly for better) that New Zealand is different from the States. I now wish to let you in on a few of these.

• Roundabouts. The world's greatest invention, second only to the Tomogochi/GigaPet. What I initially feared and considered nothing but a dangerous hazard is really the most simple, convenient, safe, and fun way of connecting any number of streets. Everyone hops in, enjoys a spin cycle, and then shoots of in the direction of they so choose. Effective as can be. Genius!
• Food. So much to say about food. First off, and most enjoyable to me, is the apple. NZ's apples are the best I've ever set teeth in to. Oh so good! These people also love their coffee. Every third door on the street is a cafe. Even more interesting is their coffee lingo. They have Long Blacks, Short Blacks, White Flats, and Long Shorts. Beats me. NZlanders also enjoy their chicken, cranberry, and avocado paninis. I enjoy them greatly as well.
• Environment. This country is incredibly conscious of its land. And I'm not talking the crazy liberal tree huger agenda found in the States. These people know they live in paradise on earth, and they do a phenomenal job at keeping it that way. The prime example: Every toilet I've used has two flush options: a 1/2 flush if you go #1, and a full flush if you go #2. How duh is that! We USAers prefer to build toilets that are a 3/4 flush, so that H2O is wasted on tinkle flushes, and 2 flushes is required for poopoo's because 3/4 just doesn't cut it. We Americans have a crapload to learn from these people.

{Day 5} Peaks, Punks, & Punctures

The tramping of day 4 was so tough it ate my lunch, Debbie cake and all. The tramping of day 5 was the withouttadoubt the most splendid of my two decades. Because we spent the entire day prior climbing a mountain, there wasn't any more elevation to be gained. We were the top. The track took us along Robert Ridge, a massive spine of earth that ran across the range and then back down to sea level. The ridge (the one I'm standing on, above) was stunning, so much so I won't even pretend to do it justice through my inadequate words. It was simply jaw-dropping gorgeous. I think I drooled on myself a couple times. In the entirety of that hike, we stepped through mud, slid down pebbled gravel, tip-toed our way through a maze of boulders, crunched through snow (oh how that sound brings me joy!), descended down stairs of tree roots, and waded through wheat plains. I think that mountain range yielded a hefty and satisfying variety of terrain. Bravo Roberto!

As if that day wasn't perfect already, it only got better. We arrived back at the car park (parking lots are unheard of here), and to our great disbelief, our two cars (the Subaru and a rental) were broken into. After some amateur CSI work, we concluded that these criminals are punks (no doubt) and peculiar young lads. To begin with, the window they chose to break on each car was the smallest, as if to save us on repair bills. Also, their choice of bounty made zero sense. They took 3 iPods from the group, but left behind wallets and credit cards (we know they saw these, for the cash was strewn out in the trunk). The yayhoos also felt obliged to take a 256mb memory card, but left behind the 64mb one ('cause those were so 2004). All in all, that discovery in the carpark sucked, but it brought some good laughs as well.

And the day improved yet again! While leaving the trailhead, the rental car got a flat a couple hundred meters down the road. We threw on the donut-sized bicycle tire, and she was ready to pur like a kitty. That's day 5 in a very tiny nutshell. Chip chip cheerio, my dears.

{Day 4} Angelic Angelus

Day numero quatro was the hardest day of hiking of my life. Straight up. It really was...straight up. To summit Mt. Cedric required an elevation gain of 1532m, in the rain, no less. It hurt, but it was worth it...

For this was our reward as we peaked over the ridgeline. If you zoom in on the picture and peek closely, you can see a tiny red building. That's the Angelus Hut, our home for night two. Keep in mind this shot, and now check out this website. How sick is that? That could have been us, but fortunately the weather didn't pull any funny business. I had not a clue until about the past year's blizzards until our group checked back into the DOC ranger station and saw these pictures on the wall. Um, yea.

{Day 3} Hut For Rut

The third day was the first day of a three day hike. As the map says, we were 'tramping' in the Nelson Lakes region. The first leg of the trip was an all day hike along the Speargrass Creek.

It is this creek to which I owe a big ol' Thank You card. Never before have I been able to participate in the magical photography trick of water movement. But this creek (along with a manual shutter speed of 4 sec.) allowed me such a joyous occasion. Whoop.

This surreal scene was our destination of the day. Lake Rotoroa was quite a sight, and it made quite a front yard for Sabine Hut (say`bine). Now, this hut will forever be a highlight of my time in NZ. It was my first hut experience, and it was a fantastic one to say the least. First let me explain a couple things. One, it is currently winter in New Zealand (not summer). If you were wondering why we we're all wearing puffy parkas and beanies in every picture, that's why. Because it is the winter season, huts (not tents) are the homes for backpackers. Seeing that temperatures usually drop below freezing at night, the wind-free, stove-heated atmospheres of huts are a warm welcome.

We arrived at Sabine Hut just after sunset. To our pleasant surprise, the place was jam-packed with a bunch of locals. These old men come here (via powerboats, not feet) the same weekend every year. The occasion? The Queen's birthday. For us, this meant we not only got a warm bed, but also everything the locals had to offer: freshly caught trout, trail mix (pretty much the currency of backpacking), good stories, good songs, and good fun. It was something straight out of a movie, I kid you not! So, here's a cheers to the fat bearded men of Sabine!

{Day 2} Ups & Downsies

The night of Thursday (the same day I arrived), Rich and I hopped in our 1986 Subaru something-or-other with 3 of his good friends from the study abroad group (Meg, Kenny, and Ben).We drove 150 km (in miles? beats me) to the coastal town of Kaikoura, grabbed a beautimous dinner, and then spent the night in a local hostel. The next morning we were up and at 'em, hitting the outdoors for my first experience of NZ's glory.

The tramp (NZ speak for hike) of the day was Mt. Fyffe, a 1,602 meter climb that would provide awe-inducing panoramas of the Pacific Ocean. We also got views of snow-capped peaks such as the one above (my favorite photo of the trip thus far!). Makes for a pretty good welcome, huh? Let me tell ya, the things I've seen and will see in the days to come is enough to make you stumble backwards in disbelief. I have looked at the pictures in Backpacker magazine. I have thumbed through the pages of Lonely Planet. But none of this could have ever prepared me for the real deal. They simply don't do views like this justice. I hardly blink when I stand in the middle of it, doing my best to take it all in. It is truly incredible. It is for the eyes what a Thanksgiving feast is to the tummy.

When our knee pounding decent of Fyffe was complete, we drove north to Nelson. On the way we pulled off the highway to say hi to this lil' fella with the bulging eyes. Visualize this. The Pacific coast is behind us. A rainforest juts up into the sky before us. We take a short hike into the trees, following a brook the entire way. At the end is a 40ft. waterfall plunging down into a water hole the size of an average swimming pool. It's 6pm, so the sun has pretty much checked out for the night. In the dark waters amidst the spray, we find a colony of dancing seals, about 2 dozen of them jumping, spinning, and flipping at their hearts' content. It was as if they were performing some SeaWorld routine for us, but we knew that was simply their normal life. Each day the teenage seals leave their parents (the fat ones on the coastal rocks), waddle up the creek, and have a party all day in their favorite hangout. We're all mammals, right? We gingerly stepped across some rocks to get closer to the seal dance. Many of them, like this dude, came right up to us to smell and nibble on our outstretched hands. It was a grand time! What a way to top off a day.

{Day 1} Qantas, My New Best Friend

I want to begin this journal of journeys by expressing how difficult I find journaling to be. It's an odd thing really (the difficulty) seeing that I love to take pictures and I love to write. One would think that I'd find it a breeze. In normal day-to-day life, it is. And I love it. But when I am currently on the soil of the far away exotic land of New Zealand, and I only have 30 days to live it up, and I want to be able to savor every one of the 720 hours I'm given, then I get a bit antsy. Some would say that sitting down with pen & ink (or keyboard, in my case) is a great way to savor the moment. But I would prefer to be out there in the thick of NZ experiencing all I can. So, why am I typing away at the moment? One, I know that if I don't keep record my time here, my future self will kick itself in the hind-quarters. Hard. Two, it keeps you, my family and friends (and random strangers) informed and up to date on my travels. Three, I reiterate point #1. There we have it. Shall I begin?

I dedicated the title of Day 1 to a little airline named Quantas. Before 6/1/06, Kevin and Qantas had never met (or heard of each other for that matter). But now they will be faithful friends for life. This airline knocked my socks off! They made the 13 hr. flight feel much less grueling than it could have. The stewardesses were super sweet ladies, the food was the best I'd consumed since Christmas break, the cabin wasn't kept at 53 degrees, and the attention to detail was so fine my seatmate and I chucked in disbelief many of times. For instance, they provide every passenger with a little goodie bag containing a pair of socks, an eye cover-upper sleep thing, and a mini toothbrush with a one time serving of toothpaste (which I of course saved to show everyone back home). I could go on and on about my love affair with Qantas, but I should move forward.

After a good 24 hours of travel time, I arrive in Christchurch, NZ. My friend Richard picks me up and we take the bus to his flat downtown. Let me pause. This would be a great time to explain how I am even in NZ. The answer is Richard. He and I have been best buds since the 3rd grade. Anywho, he's been studying abroad here this semester, and gave me the opportunity of a lifetime: to live with him for his last month in NZ. I promptly said heck yes to that offer, bought a plane ticket, and have been winging it thus far. Amazing, ey? So, after Rich picked me up from AKL, he had to go to one of his classes. This left me free to explore the city on my own. I grabbed my camera (for I didn't look touristy enough already) and hit the streets. After visiting Cathedral Square and the Art Museum, I got lost on my way home. Jetlag + unfamiliar surroundings + childlike curiosity always equals lost American. With some dumb luck and to great relief, I made my way back to the apartment.

That's the jidst of day one. More is to come. Have fun.
Cheers!