Well my schedule feels dramatically slower as I make myself available for interviews - which means stay in the same damn place for a couple weeks.
I picked up temp work, very exciting, mail-merging fun, but yesterday I officially worked my first day in another country - whoo hoo! After passing my 4 month, out-o-the-country anniversary on the 17th.
It's the weekend and I'm going to go climb a volcano tomorrow morning, sounds more dramatic than it is as there are 10 or 20 volcanoes in Auckland. I'm just going to go climb the big one on the other side of the ferry route.
Monday back to envelope stuffing, and awaiting interviews and more resume requests. It's crazy, but I keep having permanent jobs pushed in my direction (and assurances that immigration is a non-issue), so I may have to decide whether or not to move here...humm. Maybe just for a year or two...
Listening live KUT stream on Friday night in Austin while it's Saturday afternoon here, damn I miss Austin music. (I heard Los Lonely Boys on the radio here!)
Nuff' rambling, as there isn't much to report. Cheers.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Cook Islands
Took off at 11 pm Thursday and landed at 4 am Thursday thanks to the dateline. No sleep so speak of, as the plane was full of middle aged women going to the Cook’s for an international netball tournament, which as I was told primarily consisted of a week long drinking binge with 1000 like minded women. They were noisy, but their excitement and giddiness was contagious.
Marion’s generosity knew no bounds as she picked me up at 4 am. Before she left Auckland we though we should go watch the sunrise as we were going to be up at such an hour, yet when the pain of 4 am was in effect a unanimous decision to go to bed was made rapidly. 9 am rise for breakfast, attempted conversation with some folks at the resort, yet fell asleep in my chair a few times and hit the sack for a nap that lasted the majority of the afternoon. Up in time for a stunning sunset over the water, which we watched from a kayak at the edge of the reef.
Spent Friday driving around Rarotonga (a complete round takes about 20 mins at 30 MPH), taking photos and adjusting down even further my sense of schedule. Saturday we were up and off to the airport for our flight to Aitutaki. Flying in, I was amazed by the beauty of the Atoll from the air, a giant round sandbar spotted with islands. The sand glowed an electric turquoise as the white sand reflected the sun through shallow waters, the islands tropical green, and all surrounded by the deep, dark, blue of the Pacific. Landed at the smallest airport I’ve seen yet, the structure consisted of a carved piece of wood labeling it an international airport and an oversized gazebo with a desk. Two minute drive to Samade on the Beach, a collection of 9 cabanas overlooking the most beautiful water I have ever laid eyes on. The first day consisted of me sitting down in a lawn chair on the beach with a Dan Brown book, moving once for lunch, and getting up as the sunset extinguishing my light with only 20 pages left.
The following days were a blast. Kayaking a few miles one day, finding a deserted beach on a deserted island where I shucked some coconuts on a piece of coral for lunch. Renting a moped one day and drove it around in true “Guinn-boy” style including 4x4 trails climbing the steepest dirt tracks on the islands multiple times (1st gear and floored, the bike barely kept moving). “Island night” at the resort with a fantastic Polynesian dance performance and discovering that I should sit in the middle of the group of tables next time, lest I get called up to dance twice again. Teaching Marion to swing dance on the porch of our cabana (iPod speakers rival the invention of the wheel in my eyes) one sunset. Another sunset I got in touch with my retired side (as I’ve definitely been in touch with my inner child over the past 4 months). I felt the greatest pleasure in recent memory: sitting on the porch of the cabana with the sun setting over the lagoon, Ella, Louis, Etta, and Billie wafting through the breeze, and a glass of bourbon in my hands – I’m pretty sure all I needed was a medical problem to make me 65.
The last full day was filled with a “lagoon cruise”, which despite my skepticism was fantastic. An Australian couple, Marion and myself were driven about in a 20-foot motorboat for the day. We went snorkeling in a few places where we saw giant clams, an old tugboat wreck, and a moray eel the size of a Labrador retriever. Followed that up walking around some deserted islands that could make it into any coffee table book of the world’s most beautiful beaches.
Then dinner on another deserted island. Table and chairs setup in the sand, food served in freshly woven palm baskets, and Marlin marinated in seawater among other things that proved to be the best meal of the trip. Of coarse ridiculously tall palms leaning over a white beach surrounded by turquoise water and a beautiful sunset didn’t detract from making it one hell of a dinner.
The last day was great and long. Swimming, kayaking, playing around the resort for the day, then we went to take a picture of the airport’s runway. Early in the week we noticed that there is no fence on the beach side, walking up on the runway I though it would make a cool picture with my wide angle.
I checked with my telephoto and reassured Marion that there was not a plane waiting to take off. A couple minutes later I hear, “Trey… there’s a plane coming…” I looked up in the sky, found it empty, swung around a saw one coming down the runway rapidly in my direction. Scampered to the end of the runway and started swapping lenses.
Marion: “Trey, what are you doing?”
Me: “Changing lenses”
I was off the runway (by about a foot) so I decided to take some pictures of the plane taking off and enjoy having a plane take off over my head for possibly the first and last time of my life. Got some photos and then told Marion through an ear-to-ear grin we should probably leave before we end up in an island prison. (Back in touch with my inner child)
After our last Cook Island sunset we left from the same runway noticing the restricted area sign promising 3 months imprisonment for trespassing. From the plane spotted Orion during the quick hour flight back to Rarotonga. Dinner and saw Marion off at 11, then snuggled up on a metal bench, outside, under a bright light for a less than a restful nap before my 3 am check-in for my flight back to NZ. 4 hour flight time, 22 hours worth of time zones later, landed at 7 am in Auckland after having my Friday evaporate into the oddities of the dateline.
Now I’m back in Auckland and looking at emails confirming my Dad and Audrey’s 2 ½ week visit in May and Whitney’s 6 week visit over July and August. Coupled with my (fingers crossed) possible employment in Antarctica from October through December and my calendar is just darn full.
All smiles here, I hope the same is for you wherever you are reading this.
Marion’s generosity knew no bounds as she picked me up at 4 am. Before she left Auckland we though we should go watch the sunrise as we were going to be up at such an hour, yet when the pain of 4 am was in effect a unanimous decision to go to bed was made rapidly. 9 am rise for breakfast, attempted conversation with some folks at the resort, yet fell asleep in my chair a few times and hit the sack for a nap that lasted the majority of the afternoon. Up in time for a stunning sunset over the water, which we watched from a kayak at the edge of the reef.
Spent Friday driving around Rarotonga (a complete round takes about 20 mins at 30 MPH), taking photos and adjusting down even further my sense of schedule. Saturday we were up and off to the airport for our flight to Aitutaki. Flying in, I was amazed by the beauty of the Atoll from the air, a giant round sandbar spotted with islands. The sand glowed an electric turquoise as the white sand reflected the sun through shallow waters, the islands tropical green, and all surrounded by the deep, dark, blue of the Pacific. Landed at the smallest airport I’ve seen yet, the structure consisted of a carved piece of wood labeling it an international airport and an oversized gazebo with a desk. Two minute drive to Samade on the Beach, a collection of 9 cabanas overlooking the most beautiful water I have ever laid eyes on. The first day consisted of me sitting down in a lawn chair on the beach with a Dan Brown book, moving once for lunch, and getting up as the sunset extinguishing my light with only 20 pages left.
The following days were a blast. Kayaking a few miles one day, finding a deserted beach on a deserted island where I shucked some coconuts on a piece of coral for lunch. Renting a moped one day and drove it around in true “Guinn-boy” style including 4x4 trails climbing the steepest dirt tracks on the islands multiple times (1st gear and floored, the bike barely kept moving). “Island night” at the resort with a fantastic Polynesian dance performance and discovering that I should sit in the middle of the group of tables next time, lest I get called up to dance twice again. Teaching Marion to swing dance on the porch of our cabana (iPod speakers rival the invention of the wheel in my eyes) one sunset. Another sunset I got in touch with my retired side (as I’ve definitely been in touch with my inner child over the past 4 months). I felt the greatest pleasure in recent memory: sitting on the porch of the cabana with the sun setting over the lagoon, Ella, Louis, Etta, and Billie wafting through the breeze, and a glass of bourbon in my hands – I’m pretty sure all I needed was a medical problem to make me 65.
The last full day was filled with a “lagoon cruise”, which despite my skepticism was fantastic. An Australian couple, Marion and myself were driven about in a 20-foot motorboat for the day. We went snorkeling in a few places where we saw giant clams, an old tugboat wreck, and a moray eel the size of a Labrador retriever. Followed that up walking around some deserted islands that could make it into any coffee table book of the world’s most beautiful beaches.
Then dinner on another deserted island. Table and chairs setup in the sand, food served in freshly woven palm baskets, and Marlin marinated in seawater among other things that proved to be the best meal of the trip. Of coarse ridiculously tall palms leaning over a white beach surrounded by turquoise water and a beautiful sunset didn’t detract from making it one hell of a dinner.
The last day was great and long. Swimming, kayaking, playing around the resort for the day, then we went to take a picture of the airport’s runway. Early in the week we noticed that there is no fence on the beach side, walking up on the runway I though it would make a cool picture with my wide angle.
I checked with my telephoto and reassured Marion that there was not a plane waiting to take off. A couple minutes later I hear, “Trey… there’s a plane coming…” I looked up in the sky, found it empty, swung around a saw one coming down the runway rapidly in my direction. Scampered to the end of the runway and started swapping lenses.
Marion: “Trey, what are you doing?”
Me: “Changing lenses”
I was off the runway (by about a foot) so I decided to take some pictures of the plane taking off and enjoy having a plane take off over my head for possibly the first and last time of my life. Got some photos and then told Marion through an ear-to-ear grin we should probably leave before we end up in an island prison. (Back in touch with my inner child)
After our last Cook Island sunset we left from the same runway noticing the restricted area sign promising 3 months imprisonment for trespassing. From the plane spotted Orion during the quick hour flight back to Rarotonga. Dinner and saw Marion off at 11, then snuggled up on a metal bench, outside, under a bright light for a less than a restful nap before my 3 am check-in for my flight back to NZ. 4 hour flight time, 22 hours worth of time zones later, landed at 7 am in Auckland after having my Friday evaporate into the oddities of the dateline.
Now I’m back in Auckland and looking at emails confirming my Dad and Audrey’s 2 ½ week visit in May and Whitney’s 6 week visit over July and August. Coupled with my (fingers crossed) possible employment in Antarctica from October through December and my calendar is just darn full.
All smiles here, I hope the same is for you wherever you are reading this.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Watch out for the Soap Box!
I’m leaving for my last minute trip to the Cook Islands from my extended holiday in New Zealand… I am still marveling that it is possible to have a lifestyle that supports such a statement, and more importantly it is possible without winning the lottery – just a readjustment of one’s life.
The afternoon before my flight I met up with Amelia, a Kiwi friend, and her friend from San Francisco for coffee and conversation that was so enjoyable it merits mention 2 weeks later. Then back to the hostel for dinner with a Dutch girl, Jacquelyn and the sole other American here at the hostel. Jackie speaks 4 languages, grew up between Holland and South Africa, and after continual badgering on my part demonstrated a little Zulu which is a click language (damn, I was impressed). The American girl is a Pharmacy student on her international rotation. She decided to spend her free 3 weeks in New Zealand in one place, grew up in suburban Colorado, is moving to suburbs between Ft. Worth and Dallas to work for the prison system, 25 and once divorced. It would be an understatement to say the contrast was severe, particularly when geopolitics came up in conversation. It would also be unfair to consider this a reasonable contrast of a European to an American. Yet, I realized that this American would probably standout as worldly back home because she had been to New Zealand and the Dutch girl probably would not. This is most likely the best example I have so far for the differences between the rest of the western world, consisting of countries where traveling and knowledge of rest of the world is culturally engrained, and the US where our culture is nearly devoid of curiosity about the outside world.
I’ll have to think of a good way to help change that… let me know if you have any good ideas.
The afternoon before my flight I met up with Amelia, a Kiwi friend, and her friend from San Francisco for coffee and conversation that was so enjoyable it merits mention 2 weeks later. Then back to the hostel for dinner with a Dutch girl, Jacquelyn and the sole other American here at the hostel. Jackie speaks 4 languages, grew up between Holland and South Africa, and after continual badgering on my part demonstrated a little Zulu which is a click language (damn, I was impressed). The American girl is a Pharmacy student on her international rotation. She decided to spend her free 3 weeks in New Zealand in one place, grew up in suburban Colorado, is moving to suburbs between Ft. Worth and Dallas to work for the prison system, 25 and once divorced. It would be an understatement to say the contrast was severe, particularly when geopolitics came up in conversation. It would also be unfair to consider this a reasonable contrast of a European to an American. Yet, I realized that this American would probably standout as worldly back home because she had been to New Zealand and the Dutch girl probably would not. This is most likely the best example I have so far for the differences between the rest of the western world, consisting of countries where traveling and knowledge of rest of the world is culturally engrained, and the US where our culture is nearly devoid of curiosity about the outside world.
I’ll have to think of a good way to help change that… let me know if you have any good ideas.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Lots 'o walking round
Job applications, interviews, recruiters, phone calls, emails... etc, have filled my days for the last week. Yet in no way is this stressful. I sit in a coffee shop, okay I'll admit it, a Starbucks...damn I hate that, but they have free wireless internet. I do my correspondence for a couple hours and then walk at least an hour in some direction in an attempt to get myself lost - were I always end up finding some fantastic alfresco lunch.
Interviews normally in the afternoon and strolls by the harbor at sunset. As far as job hunting goes - it's alright.
This evening strolling by some yachts, Auckland’s title as "The City of Sails" was earned in my eyes as I saw 4, count 'em, 4 America’s Cup yachts in one harbor - err... harbour.
While emailing I've been catching up with news from home, thanks to internet radio from KUT.org, KGSR.com, and NPR.org. I love technology, but live broadcasts from my favorite radio station always seems to garner me the thrilling programs that are on at 3AM Texas time.
Tonight I recently turned to some good 'ol web browsing. Having been an American abroad, living among possibly the most liberal (and well informed) individuals I am likely ever to be surrounded by. I looked up Saipe in the Wikipedia (a free online encyclopedia I would recommend to anyone) in order to get the whole story on a criticism I heard from a British couple in Indonesia.
This may not come as a surprise to y'all reading this, but did you know the following about Saipan?:
Despite its status as a U.S. Commonwealth, Saipan is exempt from some federal laws, including key labor and immigration laws. As a result, a number of garment factories with wages around half of the U.S. minimum wage have been set up on the island to supply the U.S. market. Goods manufacured in U.S. Commonwealths, including Saipan, may be labeled "Made in the USA".
In January 1999, a coalition of U.S.-based pressure groups and labor unions began a class action on behalf of around 30,000 garment workers whom they claimed had been mistreated in such factories, being submitted to what was in effect indentured servitude. In April 2003, a settlement worth $20 million was reached with 27 garment manufacturers and 27 leading retailers, such as Gap, Tommy Hilfiger, and Polo Ralph Lauren. The firm of Levi Strauss & Co. refused to settle, however; in January 2004, the case against this company was dismissed.
Crazy huh? Some how I feel more responsible to know these things as I travel, because after all I would be the obvious person to ask about things related to the US in a room full of Europeans.
On a lighter note I cracked up to find out the almighty and powerful US of A has territories that are still officially "disputed". That strikes me as just silly.
Writing this I have to wonder if these things seem relevant to you all back home or not. I have no idea what I would have thought a year ago if some pal of mine wrote the same thing on their blog.
Would I care half as much as I do now? Humm....
Interviews normally in the afternoon and strolls by the harbor at sunset. As far as job hunting goes - it's alright.
This evening strolling by some yachts, Auckland’s title as "The City of Sails" was earned in my eyes as I saw 4, count 'em, 4 America’s Cup yachts in one harbor - err... harbour.
While emailing I've been catching up with news from home, thanks to internet radio from KUT.org, KGSR.com, and NPR.org. I love technology, but live broadcasts from my favorite radio station always seems to garner me the thrilling programs that are on at 3AM Texas time.
Tonight I recently turned to some good 'ol web browsing. Having been an American abroad, living among possibly the most liberal (and well informed) individuals I am likely ever to be surrounded by. I looked up Saipe in the Wikipedia (a free online encyclopedia I would recommend to anyone) in order to get the whole story on a criticism I heard from a British couple in Indonesia.
This may not come as a surprise to y'all reading this, but did you know the following about Saipan?:
Despite its status as a U.S. Commonwealth, Saipan is exempt from some federal laws, including key labor and immigration laws. As a result, a number of garment factories with wages around half of the U.S. minimum wage have been set up on the island to supply the U.S. market. Goods manufacured in U.S. Commonwealths, including Saipan, may be labeled "Made in the USA".
In January 1999, a coalition of U.S.-based pressure groups and labor unions began a class action on behalf of around 30,000 garment workers whom they claimed had been mistreated in such factories, being submitted to what was in effect indentured servitude. In April 2003, a settlement worth $20 million was reached with 27 garment manufacturers and 27 leading retailers, such as Gap, Tommy Hilfiger, and Polo Ralph Lauren. The firm of Levi Strauss & Co. refused to settle, however; in January 2004, the case against this company was dismissed.
Crazy huh? Some how I feel more responsible to know these things as I travel, because after all I would be the obvious person to ask about things related to the US in a room full of Europeans.
On a lighter note I cracked up to find out the almighty and powerful US of A has territories that are still officially "disputed". That strikes me as just silly.
Writing this I have to wonder if these things seem relevant to you all back home or not. I have no idea what I would have thought a year ago if some pal of mine wrote the same thing on their blog.
Would I care half as much as I do now? Humm....
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Settling in, in New Zealand
The “where the hell are you?” emails finally motivated me to catch up the ‘ol blog.
My one-nighter in Fiji turned into two when I missed a flight for the first time in my life. Two hours early for my flight at 7:15 when the ticketing agent kindly informed me that the 17:15 flight was taxing away from the gate.
All was cool though as my best good ‘ol Texas smile discounted my ticket change from $190 to $30. On the flight I was able to sit down next to none other than a GM from an Auckland ad agency. (Awfully handy as that is the industry I trying to get work in). A wonderfully nice guy that gave me invaluable info into who, what, & where of the Auckland creative scene – then he even gave me a ride home from the airport.
Checked into a filing cabinate for 20 year olds on their first trip from home. Was ecstatic to find fresh vegetables again after the tomatolessness of Tonga, as I spent a day walking the city to find a better place to stay.
I’ve checked into a beautiful hostel in the neighborhood of Parnell which is a 10 minute walk from downtown. The hostel is an old Victorian home, once belonged to the queen of Tonga, and the innkeeper brings in fresh European breads from the local bakery every morning and afternoon. In the ½ mile of the main strip there are 4 shops with umlauts in the title, over 20 art galleries, an Apple shop, and a disproportionate amount of Italian food restaurants. Parnell happens to also be the home to all the ad agencies, needless to say, I’m loving it. (Parnell is also rather high rent as I’ve seen a Ferrari or Lamborghini daily for nearly two weeks now)
I then jumped headlong into job acquisition mode. Cleaned up my resume and wrote cover letters and actually did cold calling straight into offices. I have a contract computer job on Monday along with two interviews, I’ve applied for jobs in Antartica, and tomorrow I’ll start my winter job options. I have to laugh at the prospect of molding my CV to make me look like a good candidate to be a “Ski Rental Assistant”. My cover letter probably shouldn’t say, “I’ve never been a skier, but come on – I’m not a freakin’ idiot.”
I was lucky enough in my job hunting to run into two local lasses in a coffee shop who have taken me under their wings to show me around. Dinner, drinks, trips to the museum, and introductions to their friends in the ad agencies. I attended the dawn parade on Anzac day (Australia and NZ’s memorial day). It was really a wonderful experience to be at such a patriotic event as a foreigner. I am also impressed that the Anzacs celebrate an historic loss, not a victory – they emphasis the futility of war instead of glorifying it. Definitely a lesson we could learn back home, as our patriotism makes frightening shifts towards nationalism.
And in true traveler style, a German girl (we’re going to a Hip Hop show tonight) invited me to join her in the Cook Islands next week… so I took her up on it. Twist my arm and drag back into the South Pacific.
Miss you guys at home and hope you all are doing great.
Happy Belated Birthday to Audrey! (Email me because I don’t have yours)
Happy Birthday to Whitney on the 8th, love ya and can’t wait to see you in Bangkok!
My one-nighter in Fiji turned into two when I missed a flight for the first time in my life. Two hours early for my flight at 7:15 when the ticketing agent kindly informed me that the 17:15 flight was taxing away from the gate.
All was cool though as my best good ‘ol Texas smile discounted my ticket change from $190 to $30. On the flight I was able to sit down next to none other than a GM from an Auckland ad agency. (Awfully handy as that is the industry I trying to get work in). A wonderfully nice guy that gave me invaluable info into who, what, & where of the Auckland creative scene – then he even gave me a ride home from the airport.
Checked into a filing cabinate for 20 year olds on their first trip from home. Was ecstatic to find fresh vegetables again after the tomatolessness of Tonga, as I spent a day walking the city to find a better place to stay.
I’ve checked into a beautiful hostel in the neighborhood of Parnell which is a 10 minute walk from downtown. The hostel is an old Victorian home, once belonged to the queen of Tonga, and the innkeeper brings in fresh European breads from the local bakery every morning and afternoon. In the ½ mile of the main strip there are 4 shops with umlauts in the title, over 20 art galleries, an Apple shop, and a disproportionate amount of Italian food restaurants. Parnell happens to also be the home to all the ad agencies, needless to say, I’m loving it. (Parnell is also rather high rent as I’ve seen a Ferrari or Lamborghini daily for nearly two weeks now)
I then jumped headlong into job acquisition mode. Cleaned up my resume and wrote cover letters and actually did cold calling straight into offices. I have a contract computer job on Monday along with two interviews, I’ve applied for jobs in Antartica, and tomorrow I’ll start my winter job options. I have to laugh at the prospect of molding my CV to make me look like a good candidate to be a “Ski Rental Assistant”. My cover letter probably shouldn’t say, “I’ve never been a skier, but come on – I’m not a freakin’ idiot.”
I was lucky enough in my job hunting to run into two local lasses in a coffee shop who have taken me under their wings to show me around. Dinner, drinks, trips to the museum, and introductions to their friends in the ad agencies. I attended the dawn parade on Anzac day (Australia and NZ’s memorial day). It was really a wonderful experience to be at such a patriotic event as a foreigner. I am also impressed that the Anzacs celebrate an historic loss, not a victory – they emphasis the futility of war instead of glorifying it. Definitely a lesson we could learn back home, as our patriotism makes frightening shifts towards nationalism.
And in true traveler style, a German girl (we’re going to a Hip Hop show tonight) invited me to join her in the Cook Islands next week… so I took her up on it. Twist my arm and drag back into the South Pacific.
Miss you guys at home and hope you all are doing great.
Happy Belated Birthday to Audrey! (Email me because I don’t have yours)
Happy Birthday to Whitney on the 8th, love ya and can’t wait to see you in Bangkok!
Current Count
As I've arrived to a country for a year stint, I though a count of the past few months was in order:
6 Countries
9 Airlines
5 Local Languages
14 Countries represented in dinner companions
18 Hostels
Countless memories, amazing people, and an ever growing excitement for tomorrows in foreign lands.
6 Countries
9 Airlines
5 Local Languages
14 Countries represented in dinner companions
18 Hostels
Countless memories, amazing people, and an ever growing excitement for tomorrows in foreign lands.
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Tonga Photos Also
I've got my Tonga pictures uploaded as well. (Thanks to hacking free internet from my hostel in Fiji) Click here to see some paradise.
Saturday, April 16, 2005
One-Nighters
Due to the fact that the domestic airline ran out of fuel, I left a day early to Tongatapu on a charter Air Polynesia flight. I realized I am not immune to boredom, as much as I would like to think the opposite is true. I stayed my last night at the transit lodge again in a village near the airport and had nothing to do but sit around from noon until I wanted to go to bed as it was pouring down rain outside.
Watched Ferris Bueler’s day off and was reminded that my brother Colin is the slightly more grown up embodiment of Ferris Bueler – he gets away with anything, and you gotta love him for it. For lunch I had a McDonalds Hamburger which was as repulsive as I remember. I would never buy one, yet Francis the 20 year old son of the people that live at the homestead offered it too me, and I hate to refuse a gift. I noticed that it was reheated, but that effected the taste little. Upon thanking Francis for the burger he smiled a big smile saying his father brought them from New Zealand the night before. It was only then that it clicked in my head that there are no McDonald’s in Tonga and more importantly I realized the generosity of this young man to give me something that was obviously very special for him. So I still hate McD’s burgers, but I was touched by the underserved generosity.
Read 600 pages of a bad spy novel without moving and crashed only to be kept awake by mosquitoes nearly all night. Slept in to make up for quality with quantity, discovered a New Zealander that had checked in, and enjoyed a conversation in unbroken English for the first time in about 5 days.
Bounced over to the airport and enjoyed the open-air, islander style of the place. No air-conditioning, nearly all of it without walls, and people walked around comfortably without shoes.
Hoped on the plane, a proper 737, and was taken aback at first with the strange quality of the air – then I realized it is just air-conditioned and I really haven’t been in that much over the past 3 months.
I’ll land in Fiji and stay another one-nighter before waking upon my travel’s three month anniversary to head to New Zealand where I feel a whole new adventure cresting the horizon – living in another country instead of just walking through it.
Watched Ferris Bueler’s day off and was reminded that my brother Colin is the slightly more grown up embodiment of Ferris Bueler – he gets away with anything, and you gotta love him for it. For lunch I had a McDonalds Hamburger which was as repulsive as I remember. I would never buy one, yet Francis the 20 year old son of the people that live at the homestead offered it too me, and I hate to refuse a gift. I noticed that it was reheated, but that effected the taste little. Upon thanking Francis for the burger he smiled a big smile saying his father brought them from New Zealand the night before. It was only then that it clicked in my head that there are no McDonald’s in Tonga and more importantly I realized the generosity of this young man to give me something that was obviously very special for him. So I still hate McD’s burgers, but I was touched by the underserved generosity.
Read 600 pages of a bad spy novel without moving and crashed only to be kept awake by mosquitoes nearly all night. Slept in to make up for quality with quantity, discovered a New Zealander that had checked in, and enjoyed a conversation in unbroken English for the first time in about 5 days.
Bounced over to the airport and enjoyed the open-air, islander style of the place. No air-conditioning, nearly all of it without walls, and people walked around comfortably without shoes.
Hoped on the plane, a proper 737, and was taken aback at first with the strange quality of the air – then I realized it is just air-conditioned and I really haven’t been in that much over the past 3 months.
I’ll land in Fiji and stay another one-nighter before waking upon my travel’s three month anniversary to head to New Zealand where I feel a whole new adventure cresting the horizon – living in another country instead of just walking through it.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Leaving Tonga
Sitting in plastic lawn furniture on the spacious second story balcony of “Adventure Backpackers”, I’m enraptured by the sounds of Nora Jones while watching the sunset light storm clouds afire and silhouette tiny Tongan islands. Stubborn spots of sky breaking through the clouds slide from yellow, to red, to green; palm trees standing above native trees standing above rusted corrugated steel roofs as the last stragglers of the day mosey home, moving as slow as the sunset – you can only see their motion if you look away for thirty seconds.
From my vantage point above Vava’u’s harbor I sip tea and reminisce over my “firsts” experiences here in Tonga. It has been my first time to see more of a place underwater than above with 12 dives over the last 8 days. My first night dive, on a wreck, at 100 foot depth with only 6 feet of visibility. My first, second, third, … fifth, … tenth time to swim with sharks. First time to swim within a hands reach of 6 foot sea snakes and countless lion fish. First time to worry about my laptop’s apparent ant infestation. First time to have a hostel completely to myself – definitely my first time to love that. First time to spend an entire day getting a cable to plug my iPod into a stereo because it required being hand soldered by a German Marine electrician. Without a doubt, my first time to have my flight canceled because the entire airline ran out of fuel. First time to lay on a sandy sea floor at 130 foot depth surrounded by Garden Eels, look back and distinctly see the whole structure of the tiny island we dove from rise from that sea floor, and finally to look up 130 feet and see the ripples of the surface clearly through the aquarium clear water – the distance only punctuated by the minutes it took my bubbles to reach the surface.
Tonga’s been great, Va’vau a fantastic happenstance choice. I’m off to the Mermaid (my favorite of three restaurants due to it’s placement on a pier and also acting as the local yacht club) for my last dinner here. Get my last Tongan small island gossip about the prince and the airline that seems to cancel more flights than it makes. Say good-bye to the folks I’ve met and get ready for another country switch. Tonga is so relaxed it forced me to sit and find yet another level of calm, I could ask for nothing more.
From my vantage point above Vava’u’s harbor I sip tea and reminisce over my “firsts” experiences here in Tonga. It has been my first time to see more of a place underwater than above with 12 dives over the last 8 days. My first night dive, on a wreck, at 100 foot depth with only 6 feet of visibility. My first, second, third, … fifth, … tenth time to swim with sharks. First time to swim within a hands reach of 6 foot sea snakes and countless lion fish. First time to worry about my laptop’s apparent ant infestation. First time to have a hostel completely to myself – definitely my first time to love that. First time to spend an entire day getting a cable to plug my iPod into a stereo because it required being hand soldered by a German Marine electrician. Without a doubt, my first time to have my flight canceled because the entire airline ran out of fuel. First time to lay on a sandy sea floor at 130 foot depth surrounded by Garden Eels, look back and distinctly see the whole structure of the tiny island we dove from rise from that sea floor, and finally to look up 130 feet and see the ripples of the surface clearly through the aquarium clear water – the distance only punctuated by the minutes it took my bubbles to reach the surface.
Tonga’s been great, Va’vau a fantastic happenstance choice. I’m off to the Mermaid (my favorite of three restaurants due to it’s placement on a pier and also acting as the local yacht club) for my last dinner here. Get my last Tongan small island gossip about the prince and the airline that seems to cancel more flights than it makes. Say good-bye to the folks I’ve met and get ready for another country switch. Tonga is so relaxed it forced me to sit and find yet another level of calm, I could ask for nothing more.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
Relaxed to the point of shallow breaths
Last two days having been filled with diving. The water is fantastic – warm and clear. Highlights include: a wreck of a 300 foot freight liner 90 feet below where I swam through the holds with snapper half my size, swimming in a cave with 8 sharks, and seeing an eagle ray swim by at full tilt. It is very relaxed here, but I find myself more and more excited about New Zealand. More and more excited about being in one spot for a couple months straight. Thankfully this desire is not fed by loneliness, but just a desire to stop moving for a little while. I want to know where the good grocery store & café are, and visit them more than once.
I’ve met a number of New Zealand ex-pats here (they run the dive shop and internet café) and I’m confronted with the question: “Could I live here?” It is very slow and reasonably isolated, yet completely lacks any smidge of stress while living quite literally in paradise. I’d half to say no though, I feel like I need some stress in my life to know I’m still breathing. My fidgetiness is possibly a shortcoming, but I can’t be this stagnant long-term – it’s really a challenge to do it for the few weeks I’m here. Maybe all this will change over the length of this trip, but only time will tell.
I’ve met a number of New Zealand ex-pats here (they run the dive shop and internet café) and I’m confronted with the question: “Could I live here?” It is very slow and reasonably isolated, yet completely lacks any smidge of stress while living quite literally in paradise. I’d half to say no though, I feel like I need some stress in my life to know I’m still breathing. My fidgetiness is possibly a shortcoming, but I can’t be this stagnant long-term – it’s really a challenge to do it for the few weeks I’m here. Maybe all this will change over the length of this trip, but only time will tell.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
A great Thursday
Chartered a trimaran with the two Brits and an American girl I met the day before. It is literally postcards everywhere you look. Some snorkeling, pictures, and a walk around a tiny island and we’ll call that a day. Back to the hostel for dinner with my sunburn and time to rest up for a day of diving tomorrow.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Tonga, day 2
Up at 6:30, breakfast server by the ever so grandmotherly Susanna. The Taxi driver shows up at 7 for my 7:30 pickup and then proceeds to listen to radio loud enough to ensure that I know he’s there. By the way, Tonga has one, count ‘em one, radio station that will play Karma Chameleon back to back with 50 Cent (like John Ailee in Austin, but admittedly worse). Tonga also has one TV station that plays movies from pirated DVDs, even included the caption “Not for Distribution, For Award Consideration Only”.
Made the 5 minute drive to the domestic terminal at the airport. The sign reads “mest erm nal”, but you get the idea. After all there are only three buildings to choose from: the international gate, the Tongan Air Force, or the domestic terminal – all together are smaller than an HEB. Luckily I make the 8:30 on standby and I’m in for a treat. A 1953 DC-3 (picture coming soon). I thought it was fun to drive in a 1953 Ford, here’s to flying in a 1953 plane. We take off and I’m aware that the FAA isn’t in Tonga when they just leave the door open to the cockpit. The flight attendant then tells me during flight I’m welcome to walk into the cockpit and put on a headset to chat with the pilots – you better believe I didn’t pass that opportunity up! Then it was a long walk back to my seat in row 6 out of 7 where I find myself a bit chilly from the A/C. It takes a minute for me to connect that there is no A/C, the wind is hitting my hip, and I’m in the emergency row. That’s right, the breeze is coming through the emergency door. This leads me to walk to the back to check out the main door that you can see light coming through around the entire thing. Now I’m convinced I love Tonga.
We land at the smallest airport I’ve ever seen. It’s about the size of an ice cream stand. The baggage claim is a long hole in the wall and the airport consists of a single 15’x15’ room (I’m curious why we just didn’t carry our bags from the plane?) Nonetheless, it is labeled the Vava’u International Airport.
Caught back up with an English girl I met on the plane from Fiji and her boyfriend who has just finished a med school rotation in Tonga, we’re all staying at the same hostel – the only one – and share a cab. Check in, meet the other 3 people in the hostel, meet the other 1 tourist in town, and put around for the day until we find the a local bar on the water and watch the sunset with a cold drink. I pose the question again, “Trey, how are you ever going to go back to work?”
Made the 5 minute drive to the domestic terminal at the airport. The sign reads “mest erm nal”, but you get the idea. After all there are only three buildings to choose from: the international gate, the Tongan Air Force, or the domestic terminal – all together are smaller than an HEB. Luckily I make the 8:30 on standby and I’m in for a treat. A 1953 DC-3 (picture coming soon). I thought it was fun to drive in a 1953 Ford, here’s to flying in a 1953 plane. We take off and I’m aware that the FAA isn’t in Tonga when they just leave the door open to the cockpit. The flight attendant then tells me during flight I’m welcome to walk into the cockpit and put on a headset to chat with the pilots – you better believe I didn’t pass that opportunity up! Then it was a long walk back to my seat in row 6 out of 7 where I find myself a bit chilly from the A/C. It takes a minute for me to connect that there is no A/C, the wind is hitting my hip, and I’m in the emergency row. That’s right, the breeze is coming through the emergency door. This leads me to walk to the back to check out the main door that you can see light coming through around the entire thing. Now I’m convinced I love Tonga.
We land at the smallest airport I’ve ever seen. It’s about the size of an ice cream stand. The baggage claim is a long hole in the wall and the airport consists of a single 15’x15’ room (I’m curious why we just didn’t carry our bags from the plane?) Nonetheless, it is labeled the Vava’u International Airport.
Caught back up with an English girl I met on the plane from Fiji and her boyfriend who has just finished a med school rotation in Tonga, we’re all staying at the same hostel – the only one – and share a cab. Check in, meet the other 3 people in the hostel, meet the other 1 tourist in town, and put around for the day until we find the a local bar on the water and watch the sunset with a cold drink. I pose the question again, “Trey, how are you ever going to go back to work?”
Monday, April 04, 2005
On the ground in Tonga
Well the airport was a bit larger than Suva, this one had two hangers: one for the headquarters of the local airline Peau Vava'u Limited and one for the “Air Force” which is housed in a small one story building. I was surely scammed for the 3 dollar cab ride to the Peau Vava’u Office that was a mile away (driver didn’t mind being paid in Fijian dollars). So expecting to buy a ticket for the morning or even today I was a bit disappointed. Today’s afternoon flight was canceled due to low attendance. I found this out after waiting an hour (my patience feels almost unlimited at this point as I have no appointments at all) and somehow both flights are booked tomorrow. So now I’m on standby tomorrow. So the same slightly scam artist taxi driver took me to the local accommodation where I have my own room for T$ 30 per night. The place is clean and quite nice. The structure appears to be a store, 3 rooms, and a house – out of which I’m the only guest. My room is really just a room off of the owners house (hoping to enjoy some Tongan family life tonight) and upon trying to charge my laptop I was informed that the village power is off from noon until 5 pm, to which I smile to myself thinking I might be getting off the beaten path. After all, the Peau Vava’u guy, upon questioning, told me proudly that the airport I was going to was not only paved – but had lights also… that’s right it has lights. The large pig grazing around in front of me as I type on my iBook makes me realize I’m getting pretty far from home. So I’ll sit back, watch the lack of traffic, read my Economist, and wait for Susanna’s nephew to drive into town to pick up her granddaughter and so that I can see what Nuku'alofa looks like.
Once evening rolled around...
Spent the afternoon putting around until the van overheated. Just like back home, all the guys strut around the vehicle trying to diagnose it (myself included). Picked up a hitchhiker, but this is far from an unusual way to get around for anyone here and cruised back home.
Spent the evening watching “Garden State”, which every time I see this movie I’m more convinced it is one of my favorites. Yet, sitting here on a porch of a local family in the Kingdom of Tonga I’m struck by two themes that really hit home for me in that movie: sense of home and being present and courageous with ones’ own life. During a pool scene, there’s a great dialogue about how part of coming of age is the lose of the sense of home as you go out into the world to create your own home. (A great line being, ‘Maybe that’s all a family is, a group of people that miss the same imaginary place’) Thoughts of home, putting down roots, and coming into my own definitely pass through my head as I travel, now for 3 months and looking at another 21 ahead. I feel a need to dissect my own desire to lay down roots, even as I look at working in New Zealand – I have to be sure that I don’t lay any roots out of insecurity. I hold an expectation for myself to not settle somewhere just so that I’ll have less fear of some unknown - of what could happen tomorrow. I think the desire to seek security and predictability leads people to fall short of living their life fully. When someone feels comfortable enough with their life that they no longer have to pay attention, they begin let it slide by unconscious of it’s marrow. So to ensure I don’t do that; I’ve left a very comfortable life to challenge myself with ever changing environments. I just have to stay on top of myself and make sure I don’t let myself slide back into comfortable numbness, because I want to take full advantage of every second of this life I so lucky to lead… it would be a waste to just follow it instead.
Once evening rolled around...
Spent the afternoon putting around until the van overheated. Just like back home, all the guys strut around the vehicle trying to diagnose it (myself included). Picked up a hitchhiker, but this is far from an unusual way to get around for anyone here and cruised back home.
Spent the evening watching “Garden State”, which every time I see this movie I’m more convinced it is one of my favorites. Yet, sitting here on a porch of a local family in the Kingdom of Tonga I’m struck by two themes that really hit home for me in that movie: sense of home and being present and courageous with ones’ own life. During a pool scene, there’s a great dialogue about how part of coming of age is the lose of the sense of home as you go out into the world to create your own home. (A great line being, ‘Maybe that’s all a family is, a group of people that miss the same imaginary place’) Thoughts of home, putting down roots, and coming into my own definitely pass through my head as I travel, now for 3 months and looking at another 21 ahead. I feel a need to dissect my own desire to lay down roots, even as I look at working in New Zealand – I have to be sure that I don’t lay any roots out of insecurity. I hold an expectation for myself to not settle somewhere just so that I’ll have less fear of some unknown - of what could happen tomorrow. I think the desire to seek security and predictability leads people to fall short of living their life fully. When someone feels comfortable enough with their life that they no longer have to pay attention, they begin let it slide by unconscious of it’s marrow. So to ensure I don’t do that; I’ve left a very comfortable life to challenge myself with ever changing environments. I just have to stay on top of myself and make sure I don’t let myself slide back into comfortable numbness, because I want to take full advantage of every second of this life I so lucky to lead… it would be a waste to just follow it instead.
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