Rizz goes round the world

Hell yeah!!!

posted by La Rizz @ 10:30 PM 2 comments

Running from the cold up in New England... (Auckland, Northland, Rotorua, NZ)

...straight into the cold down in New Zealand.

After making fun of everyone back home, as they were heading into autumn while I was facing a year of endless summer, reality smacked me in the face and laughed as soon as I stepped off the plane in Auckland. It's cold here! Not freezing, but definitely colder than I had anticipated or planned for, a fact which has led to some emergency shopping for extra layers. Well, c'est la vie.

So, the first part of my journey in New Zealand, before I met up with Lance, which will be detailed in another post to follow, brought me through Auckland, up to Paihia, and back down to Rotorua through Auckland.

Auckland:

My apologies to Karina, who grew up there, but quite honestly, Auckland just doesn't impress me much. It's just such an anonymous city, nestled in a country of such heart-rending beauty--there's so much more to see than this urban anonymity! Still, I spent a nice couple of days exploring. After spending a week with my Fiji friends, I looked forward to trekking through urban streets by myself. Being alone in cities just gives me such a rush sometimes. So I dropped off my bags, bundled up, and headed into the streets of Auckland. There's really just one major drag, Queen Street, which runs perpendicularly into the harbor. After a few hours, as it grew dark I realized I was inadequately dressed. Back to the hostel I went, and I befriended Axel, a German boy sleeping in the bunk across from me. I had had enough alone time, so I tagged along with Axel to the Globe Bar... I had been to the Globe Bar before, 2 years earlier, when I was chaperoning the kids, and it lives in infamy in my mind. It was funny to be back there, in such a different situation.

Anyway, at the Globe Bar, I ran into Sandra, a girl from England, who I had actually met in Fiji and who had been on the flight over to Auckland with me. She was relieved to see me, as she'd been hanging out alone for the past hour while her friend Cat slept upstairs. I met a couple of Irish guys and we all played in a pool tournament being run by a couple of Kiwi hustlers. I of course lost the first game.

So, Sandra and I were hanging out, chatting, fine and dandy, when all of a sudden we were accosted by a couple of rugby players, Blair and Lance, who proceeded to literally toss us around in the air on the dance floor the rest of the night. There's something about feeling light as a feather--it was great fun. Unfortunately, the people of New Zealand are obsessed with awful cheesy American music from the 80s and 90s (I haven't heard Ice Ice Baby and U Can't Touch This so many times since a junior high school dance). While it was fun being thrown around a la Dirty Dancing as "I had the time of my life..." was crooning from the speakers, it got trite fairly quickly, and Sandra and I left Blair and Lance to get even more drunk than they already were.

The next day I met up with Sandra and Cat and we set off to explore the city. We navigated our way via bus to the adorable neighborhood of Ponsonby, where I think I ate at an Italian restaurant 2 years ago. We window-shopped for a bit, then headed back down into the city via Western Park, passing by children decked out in their school uniforms during, I assume, their gym class. We then hopped on another bus out to Mt. Eden, which we climbed up. Mt. Eden is an old volcano and is the highest point in Auckland. It's sounds much more exciting than it was. The "hike" took about 15 minutes and the crater was full of grass--it just looked like a dip in the ground--but, still, we had a fun time going up and spent some time toying around with the timers on our cameras and laughing.

After parting ways for a couple of hours, I headed back to Sandra and Cat's hostel for my first experience in cooking dinner in a hostel kitchen. Unfortunately, someone had stolen Sandra's towel and PJs from her bed, so after dinner she was in need of a drink. Auckland may be New Zealand's largest city, but let me tell you, it sure is tough to find a place to grab a beer! After a frustrating half hour, we finally found a place that was out of our backpacker budget, but this was an emergency situation. We drank our beers and sat mesmerized by lawn bowling, which was playing on the TV above us. Yes, lawn bowling. It's a big deal here. And it was a long day, ok!?

Northland:

Here is where my NZ adventure really began. If you look at a map, Northland is the region of the north island that sticks out of the top, leaning towards the west. It's a beautiful, isolated place. I hopped on a bus by myself to Paihia. Fortunately, Cat and Sandra were heading up to Paihia as well, through a tour organized by Kiwi Experience, and it was nice to reunite with them at the hostel. First, though, I spent a few hours by myself roaming for a bit, as my bus got up there much more quickly.

Karma was smiling down upon me broadly that day. After facing my first (well, second, counting the luggage experience) mini-crisis while on the road, I fixed my iPod. I walked happily down to the wharf to go check out my options for tours up to Ninety Mile Beach. I decided to book through a company called Awesome Adventures and walked into their office. Graham, a Kiwi who had lived for a few years out in western Mass., was at the desk. We started talking about New England and my trip and Bali, where he had spent a substantial time, and next thing I know, I have a free ferry ride to and from Russell, across the bay, free internet, free drink vouchers, and a discounted bottle of water. Karma, man. Of course, karma can be kinder when you're a girl and the person with whom you are dealing is a boy. Karma + rules of attraction = good luck for Allison.

So, I headed across the Bay of Islands to Russell. Russell is a very quaint little town, reminiscent of a town you'd find on the Cape. Unfortunately, like the Cape in the winter, Russell was pretty deserted and everything was closed, as it was still technically the off-season. I started getting a little depressed, as cold isolation can do to me sometimes, and then it started to drizzle. Fortunately, the ferry was coming. As I was down the pier to the ferry, a little sad, a little lonely, I glanced back over my shoulder, and there was a beautiful, bright, full rainbow.

Back at the hostel I saw a couple of familiar bags in my room. Cat and Sandra! Hurrah! We hung out that night at the bar attached to our hostel, which is apparently the it place to hang out in this small town. We chatted with the driver of their bus, a Maori guy who was the cousin of the bartender and who kept force-feeding us shots. We danced like madwomen, laughing at the snotty looks from the girls who were so dolled up they looked like trannies. Some people just don't know how to enjoy themselves travelling. The busdriver and his bartender cousin did the Haka, a Maori dance for preparation for warfare, and we headed off to bed.

Fortunately, after all those silly shots, which were more sugar than alcohol I suspect, my 6 AM wake-up wasn't that bad. Cat and Sandra were heading out to row a traditional Maori canoe with their bus driver, while I was off to Ninety Mile Beach and Cape Reinga.

Ninety Mile Beach is really only 56 miles, but it is still huge and empty and amazing. We rode in the bus right down the beach, with the water at times splashing the side. To our left was the Tasman Sea, to our right were sand dunes, among which wild horses ran and would periodically peer their heads over to stare at the buses and cars zooming by. It was beautiful. We'd stop every once in a while to dip our toes in the Tasman, pick up shells, and trek over the dunes.

Our ride seemed to go on forever, but finally we reached the end. How were we going to exit the beach? I didn't see a road. Easy. We drove down a riverbed. There was water running down this riverbed, mind you. It was the most unique "road" I've ever rode down.

We drove past enormous dunes, and stopped at one to slide down the steep sides on boogie boards. The climb up was exhausting, but the exhilerating ride down was worth it, as you laughed and swallowed sand the whole way. I had sand in my ears for days.

After eating my lunch in the sand at one of the most beautiful bays I've ever seen, we headed onward to Cape Reinga, the northern-most point of New Zealand and a place of great beauty and mythical spirituality. Ancient Maori legend says that when any Maori person dies, regardless of where he or she is residing, its spirit comes up 90 Mile Beach to Cape Reinga, then dives into the ocean to return to its mythic homeland, Hawaiki. As you climb to the highest point on the Cape, to your left you see Cape Maria van Dieman, and to your right you look down and see the lighthouse capping the Cape. That lighthouse and the public toilets are the only buildings that will ever be built on this sacred land. Straight out in front of you, the ocean swirls as the Tasman Sea and the Pacific Ocean meet in a little dance. Far below you, the blue waters crashes against rocks, or foam more gently upon sandy shores. It is truly a magical place.

After we went for a quick stop in an ancient Kauri forest, where I hugged a Kauri tree (Kauris are enormous trees that at one time covered New Zealand's north island. As the trees grow to the sky, they lose their lower branches. The wood is very beautiful and the lumber is nearly flawless, so when the Brits arrived, they logged almost all of the trees. Most old houses in the UK will have New Zealand Kauri lumber in them. Today less than a quarter of the trees remain and they are protected.) Finally it was over to Uncle Stew's roadside fruit stand, where I bought some mandarins and kiwi.

The next day was another early wake-up. I walked back down to the wharf, and shivered a bit in the morning chill as I waited to board a boat. This boat didn't have a particular destination--we were off to find some dolphins! Karma again smiled upon me that day. Sometimes it can take 3 hours to find a pod of dolphins. Some trips don't spot any. It took us 20 minutes to find our first pod, and we also spotted 2 other pods later in the day. When we first came upon the dolphins, we laid on the front of the boat with our faces close to the water. We could have touched the dolphins as they played and danced and twirled under the boat, but they are very tactically sensitive and we were advised not to touch them.

Next it was on with the snorkel and the (short!!) wetsuits and into the water. Mind you, this is just the very beginning of spring in NZ. Think of the Atlantic in early March. This was gonna be a cold dip in the ocean! Also, please picture about 20 humans in snorkels and flippers, moving awkwardly in the boat and, without grace, plopping into the water 2 by 2. The silly humans then all swam frantically in the same direction, and a cacaphony of sound echoed from their snorkels as they sang, hummed, and laughed. Floppy, the woman on the boat who was the dolphin expert, told us the noise would attract the dolphins, but I think she also partially wanted to laugh at us.

It was worth it. As I swam through the water, humming, with my face below the surface, all of a sudden fron the murky dark depths arose enormous grey creatures. Some of you are aware of my fear of large things in the water (I hide my face whenever whales underwater are shown on TV), and I of course juped nearly clear out of the water and I may have shrieked. I forced my head back into the water though, and curled myself into a tiny ball as I watched these huge 200kg creatures swim by underneath me. They were beautiful, graceful and humbling. It was quite the experience.

After returning to Paihia, I hopped on a bus up to Haruru Falls, and had a lovely 2 hour walk through the woods back to the hostel with an American girl named Karen who was working in Auckland and would be in New Zealand for the next year. We had an interesting conversation about America, which maybe I'll touch upon in a later post. I've already spent too much time behind a computer today. But first...

Rotorua:

After an un-eventful stay-over in Auckland, I headed out to Rotorua. I had been here and seen most of the city 2 years ago, but I wanted to do the one thing I didn't have opportunity for last time: visit the Polynesian Spa.

Rotorua is a very geothermically active part of the world. I walked through a park across from my hostel, and here, there and everywhere, steam rose up from the Earth and mud and water bubbled. It also stinks like sulfur, but it's worth it. At the park, I sat and soaked my feet in pools that draw water from the geothermal hotsprings. I felt the energy of the Earth's core warm my feet, and sat and marvelled at the wonder of it, of feeling the Earth's power in such a way.

That was nothing compared to the next day, when I headed to the Spa. I decided to splurge and bought myself a hydrotheraputic massage, the kind where there are jets of water spraying you as someone massages you. Before and after the massage I soaked in pools of naturally heated water on the shores of the lake surrounding Rotorua. It was absolutely brilliant. I've never been so relaxed in my life.

A few hours later, I hopped on a bus to Hamilton for my reunion with Lance, and part two of my Kiwi adventure began, but that will have to wait.

posted by La Rizz @ 4:37 PM 0 comments

Sigh (Rotorua, NZ)

I have entirely lost sense of space and time. I sit emerged in waters heated by the energy of the Earth's core. Steam rises off the water's surface and dances over to me in the wind, like ghosts. The scent of sulfur is carried to my nose by the breeze. I look up and see palm trees, rocks and tea tree plants surrounding me in the foreground. Beyond lies a lake colored grayish-white by the sulfur released through the lake's bottom from depths far below. Gulls sit on a rock in the middle of the lake, and circle far above. Beyond the lake the land rolls in emerald hills, spotted with pine trees and sheep. The blue sky stretches wide above me, dotted with fluffy white clouds. I hear the shriek of the gulls as they circle in air far above my head. A waterfall trickles and splashes to my right. I put my nose to my shoulder and smell coconut. My muscles are completely relaxed after being kneaded like dough under the spray of four jets of warm water. I am beyond relaxed. I could stay here forever.

posted by La Rizz @ 8:05 PM 0 comments

Bula Fiji! (Nadi, the Mamanucas and the Yasawas, Fiji)

2 September- 11 September

I apologize, as I already wrote about some of this, but I'm copying and pasting this from my blog set up at Feehan (yes, still teaching, though not getting paid). I'll add in some details, but it took me so long to write the thing, particularly as I deleted it once, that I'm too lazy to make major changes.

So, apart from the bag situation, my first day in Fiji was a pleasant one. I set off to the hostel with my three new friends: Gemma, a crazy podiatrist from Birmingham, England, Fredrik, a Swede who had just driven across the States in an '88 Cadillac without a license plate, and Phil, a Canadian college student who, for you Feehan folks, I SWEAR was Dan Romero, aged 6 years. The resemblance in personality was uncanny.

The "hostel" was really a resort, complete with 2 pools, 3 restaurants, a salon, a game room, a movie theater, and gardens of exotic plants and trees. All for 14 dollars.

After settling in to the hostel (it didn't take me long as I had no bag), Gemma, Phil and I headed to Nadi town (what they call downtown Nadi). Nadi is the second largest city in Fiji, located on the west coast of Viti Levu, the largest island in Fiji. The largest city, the capital city of Suva, is on the east coast of Viti Levu. Fiji is the home to 2 major ethnic groups, the indigenous Fijians, who historically lived in small villages under chiefs or kings, and the Indo-Fijians, descendants of Indian indentured workers the British sent over to work on farms (Fiji was once a British colony). The two groups live in harmony in Nadi, but Fiji is rife with a history of often violent tension between the two groups. Part of this tension has arisen from the fact that the Indo-Fijians, when they arrived, were not allowed to own the land upon which they resided and were instead granted 99 year leases. As those leases ran out within the past couple of decades, Indo-Fijians were forced from land upon which they had resided for generations. At any rate, the tensions between the 2 groups have been a major factor in the 3 coups Fiji has seen, the last of which occurred in, I believe, 2000. That coup destroyed the tourism industry, but fortunately things are relatively back to normal and I saw no evidence of strife.

After being led on various wild-goose chases by the many street bullies in Nadi (Indo-Fijians who would approach you all friendly, shake your hand, then try to lead you to their or their friend's store. At first we felt bad saying no, but we quickly got over that. This was good practice for me for India, where overly-aggressive "helpers" such as these are abundant.), we bought some sunscreen and grabbed a taxi to Wailoaloa beach. After being nearly abducted by the again overly-helpful taxi driver, keen on charging us $100 each to see the whole island and selling us hash, we had lunch by the sea and then decided to walk back to our resort. Then it was an afternoon of napping in hammocks. For dinner we went back into Nadi town to buy fruit from the enormous open-air market. We dined on fresh papaya (paw-paw), pineapple and watermelon. Life was good.

The next day we made our way via public bus to the enormous Sigatoka sand dunes. I sat next to a Fijian man coming back from the airport. His brother is a Green Beret for the British Royal army, and had just left for service in Afghanistan. I was embarrassed by how our ugly politics could interfere with the inhabitants of paradise, but he seemed quite proud.

We arrived at the dunes and vast mountains of sand rose steeply above our heads. I had a moment of panic as I lost a flip-flop on the way up. Visions of walking through Nadi town with one shoe flashed through my head, but fortunately Gemma found it. We were briefly transported to the Sahara and had some fun running up and rolling down the hot dunes. Then we headed down to the angry sea, and walked the beach on the way back. The water was brilliantly aquamarine and beautiful, but the rips were vicious, so no swimming for us here. Hundreds of little crabs running around on the beach scattered at the vibrations of our footsteps. We walked back to the road through a forest of mahogany trees, and stopped to take a picture of an enormous spider.

After navigating our way back to the road, we headed to Natadala beach. We were going to take a bus, but found a cheap taxi who took us on a hair-raising off-roading trip out to the beach. Natadola beach is considered the most beautiful beach on Viti Levu, but still judged ugly by Fijian standards. Narragansett can't raise a candle, but, still, for the fabled seaside paradise Fiji is known for, we had to head out to the islands that string off the west coast, the Mamanucas and the Yasawas.

The next day we did just that. Then it was four days of white sandy beaches, snorkelling in the bluest of waters to spot even bluer sapphire-colored starfish and an octopus that almost became dinner, boatrides out to THE blue lagoon. Mornings were spent waking up to the sound of the sea and doing yoga on the most beautiful of beaches; afternoons by lounging on hammocks writing. Evenings were devoid of electricity but full of campfires, that cursed kava (a very mild mind-altering substance made from the ground root of the kava plant and strained through a fabric bag with water. It's effects were unfortunately stronger on my stomach than on my mind and any sense of euphoria disappeared as I vomitted into the sand) and new friends, and nights were spent under thatched roofs with geckos as roommates. On Sunday I took a petrifying ride on a tiny boat through an immense and angry sea to attend a church service in the local Fijian village. It wasn't technically mass, I suppose, as no communion was given, but there was a sermon, hymns, and bible readings--I assume. I didn't understand a word--it was all in Fijian. Still, the hymns in particular were beautiful and inspiring, particularly those sung by the children. Before the service, we got to sit in on a Sunday school class. Under a roof of fabric stretched across four poles, next to the sea, Fijian children took notes in neat handwriting on the Gospel of John.

It was sad to head back to the mainland, but all good things must end, hopefully to yield in more good things. I had a final dinner with the other members of the fearless foursome, then I headed to the airport in the morning and off I went to Auckland. Fortunately my bags made it with me this time, and I was ready and content to start part two of my adventure.

posted by La Rizz @ 12:53 AM 0 comments

Sunset over Mt. Eden (Idaho Springs, CO, USA)

posted by La Rizz @ 7:56 PM 0 comments

Spontaneous adventures among the wildflowers (Denver, Colorado, USA)

Going back in time a bit... Before it grows stale in my mind, some notes on Colorado.

The following events take place between the 29th (NOT the 28th) of August and the 2nd of September.

My departure from Rhode Island on the first leg of my trip, out to Denver for a few days with Michelle and Kristina, was a very pleasant one. There is no greater way to herald change than having real Maryland crab cakes and a Guinness while reading an article on Kurt Vonnegut. True, the surroundings could have been better than the BWI airport, but it was a nice start.

My flight out to Denver was a beautiful one--the clouds put on a show for me, forming crisp shapes of cream puffs and giant waves and clam shells. Michelle, my former colleague and roommate, who's living in Denver for the moment with her husband Doug, met me at the Denver airport, and we headed home for a home-cooked meal and a glass of wine. I had harbored hopes to stop by Borders and pick up a book on New Zealand, but, alas, a month-long lack of sleep, topped off with a grand total of one and a half hours the night before I left, finally caught up with me. I fell asleep on the couch at 7.

The next day Michelle and I headed out to Rocky Mountain National Forest for a nice hike up to Emerald Lake. The trail was a well-worn one, and a bit crowded, but quite tranquil, as we passed by lakes the color of Ireland and up small hills, where the forest would open up, revealing the jagged peaks of the Rockies and a sky bigger than you'd ever seen. Men passed the time fly-fishing in contentment, surrounded by the best nature could offer for them to ponder. We had lunch on a rock by the aptly named Emerald Lake, where I unfortunately lost my clover, but life goes on.

Thursday, I dropped Michelle and Doug off at the airport (they had to go back east for a wedding. They kindly let me use their car and their apartment for the next few days.) and met up in Idaho Springs for pizza with my friend Kristina. The original plan was a small hike, but after the pizza, we decided to go on a spontaneous adventure. A quick drive down the road and up Mt. Evans we drove. Mt. Evans is the home of the highest auto road in the States. At 14,000 feet up, let me tell you, your faith in your car's ability (or your friend's car) to not fall clear off the edge of the Earth has got to be pretty strong. It was worth it. Above the tree line, the surroundings were cold and desolate, but absolutely beautiful, rocky with random scattered pools of water that reflected a darkening sky. You could hardly believe you were still on planet Earth. Had we driven so high that we were on the moon? We spotted long-horn sheep, mountain goats, and badgers. Badgers make a really funny, high pitched trill of a sound to communicate. Quite unexpected from them, really.

We drove and drove--would this ever end? Finally, we reached the top, just in time for a dazzling blaze of a sunset. If it weren't so cold, it would have definitely been a perfect moment.



I had originally planned to drive back to Denver and have a quiet night by myself at Michelle and Doug's apartment, but I don't get to see Kristina much, so on a whim, I drove out to Vail, where she lives. I met her roommate Marjean, who showered me with photos of Bali. The three of us headed out in west Vail to a local restaurant with a bar, where a young George Bush started talking to us. He only looked like W, didn't act like him. Unfortunately, this Georgie Porgie had been doing a favor driving a friend's 18-wheeler through Colorado when the truck's brakes caught on fire. The Rockies are not kind to inexperienced truckers. Georgie decided to solve his dilemma by getting drunk and talking to cute girls, trying to ignore the scene of no less than 4 tow trucks towing away his only mode of transportation back to Alabama, or wherever he was from, behind us. Not that I could blame him. We returned home and had a beer in the freezing cold underneath the sweep of the Milky Way. I had forgotten how many stars there are out there.

The next morning, I drove back to Denver. I found home in the car back through the Rockies, as the sun shined on my face and I left the window open to feel the cold, fresh mountain air. Colorado is as beautiful in the summer as in the winter. Wild black-eyed susans dot the landscape, as the sun and mountains play shadow puppets on green forests. Life was good.

Friday I spent the day writing the recommendations I should have done when I had more time in the summer, but you know me. I then headed out to the Denver ghetto to meet up with Brooke's old friend, Evan, whom we'd stayed with in February. Evan works the door at a great bar with amazing music, so I hung out with him and his friend Vinny until I was about to fall asleep on the table, then drove home. Bridget Jones's Diary was on TV and I had an amazing phone conversation. It was a nice way to spend my final night in the States.

posted by La Rizz @ 9:12 PM 0 comments

Whew..... (Paihia, NZ)

Ok, deep breaths.

Life is ok.

Life has a way of working itself out. Sometimes you just have to help it along. By, for example, trouble-shooting at the iPod website before freaking out completely and feeling like a complete idiot when you realize that all you have to do is reset it.

My iPod has been healed. Karma has smiled upon me. I will leave up the last entry as testament to myself to not freak out automatically over silly little things.

It's sunny and (comparatively, to Auckland) warm here, and life is good. Now I should go check out the beach at the Bay of Islands instead of sitting here on a computer.

posted by La Rizz @ 6:43 PM 2 comments

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

F*********************CK!!!!!!!!!

Excuse the foul language, but I'm at a loss for other words at the present time. My iPod decided to stop working last night. At seven, I was walking down the street, listening happily to lamb. At 11, I went to turn it on before I plugged it in to charge it, and it wouldn't turn on, charge, nothing. It's dead. Just flat-out dead. Three hundred of my literally blood-earned money (it was the first thing I bought with my settlement money), not even a year and a half later and the thing freaking DIES????? I have a dorky, padded protector sleeve around it, I've never dropped it, I keep it in a plastic bag when I'm at the beach, and it DIES??

I'm going to cry.

All of my music, the albums I spent days burning onto the damn thing, everything I've bought from iTunes, all the music my friends so lovingly and sweetly compiled for and shared with me before I left, and it's gone. Just gone. Two weeks in. Good lord, what have I done to give me this sort of karma? If there's one thing apart from food and water that I desperately need to survive, it's music. And now I have none.

I mean, I'd heard horror stories about iPods dying, but it's only been two weeks on the road, and I've been so careful with it. What the hell?

HELP!!

posted by La Rizz @ 6:31 PM 0 comments

Fiji in a picture (Waya Island, Fiji)

The difficult questions I had to ponder while in Fiji:

Which side to swim on?



















Well, I guess I could just wait until the tide made the decision for me:

posted by La Rizz @ 10:09 PM 1 comments

Kia ora! (Auckland, New Zealand)

Hello all!

I have arrived safe and sound in Auckland--it's bringing back memories of 2 years ago when I trekked this trail along with 50 high school students who just wanted to get drunk and do other illicit things together. I am expecting a much nicer experience this time around. I am staying in Auckland just for a couple of nights, at base Backpackers (you can check it out: www.basebackpackers.com), then heading north to Whangarei and Paihia. After a week my friend Lance, the infamous, to some of you, tour guide from that also infamous trip two years ago, will be joining me. He's from here, so I'm looking forward to exploring the island with someone who knows it well.

Still lots to write about with Fiji and CO, I know, but I need to get some laundry done. I'm starting to smell already. :)

E noho ra! (I think that's right for goodbye.)

posted by La Rizz @ 8:34 PM 1 comments

I don't know if I'll make it home tonight, but I know I can swim under the Fijian moon (Nadi, Fiji)

Bula all!

Pearl of wisdom: Life has a way of working itself out.

Of course, I'd known this pre-travel, and would repeat it endlessly to students in the midst of teenage angst. Serendipity is my credo, and has been my one guiding force as I bounce around in this pinball game of life. Things work themselves out. Little did I know I would be practicing what I preached so soon during my travels, though.

After Colorado, my journey started out as a test of patience and sanity. I walked through the LA airport, on the phone with my dad, tears streaming down my face, as others walked on, glancing at me with detached pity. Day 1 and they'd already lost my backpack. My BACKPACK--containing everything I needed for a year of life on the road. I should have figured this would happen--I always pack extra underwear just in case, but that morning I had decided not to. So there I was, without even a spare set of underwear, no shampoo, no soap, nothing. I was tired and scared, and already wondering what the hell I was doing. Fortunately, my calm side persevered and prevailed. I made fast friends on the plane, and by the time I had filed a lost luggage report in Fiji, I was a member of the fearless foursome and had people offering me clothes, shampoo, deodorant, money, whatever I needed.

And guess what? My bag showed up the next morning. Life works itself out, sometimes you just might need to push it along a bit. Particularly when you're dealing with United.

It's been an amazing week, full of bonfires on the beach, snorkeling in waters that teach me what blue is supposed to look like--well, at least I think they do, until I dive under and see the beautiful blue Fijian starfish-- climbing enormous sand dunes that make you feel you're in the Sahara, meeting chiefs wearing skirts and western t-shirts, riding busses with the locals, buying fresh fruit at the market in Nadi town that made up our dinner, and, of course, drinking kava, which was not so amazing as it made me throw up and gave me a migraine the next day. All the while I've been haning out with my new friends. The cast of characters:

Gemma, my guardian angel, who offered me the shirt off her back 10 minutes after I met her, a podiatrist from Birmingham, England, also spending a year on her own.

Phil, who we've nicknamed Gadget thanks to his assortment of, well, gadgets, along with random encyclopediac knowledge, a university student from Canada, spending 4 months in the South Pacific and Southeast Asia.

Fredrik, a Swede, who just spent the past few months driving across the States in an '88 Cadillac without a license plate. He got pulled over 10 times, but only got truly harassed in Texas (of course) after sleeping on some redneck's property. He left his Cadillac parked on the street on the upper west side of New York.

It's been an amazing week, and I have lots more to tell, about Colorado and Fiji, but only have minute left on this computer. I will fill in more tomorrow, from Auckland.

I love and miss you all!!!

posted by La Rizz @ 11:47 PM 0 comments