Rizz goes round the world

Blowin' in the wind (Wellington, NZ)

23-26 September

The busride from Gisborne to Wellington was a long one--10 hours. It had passed by relatively quickly, surprisingly enough. The only frustrating portion of the ride was when the passenger behind me didn't realize that headphones + nose in a book = a person who is probably content not being in a conversation. After being tapped on the shoulder by aforementioned passenger, I felt obliged to take off my headphones and converse, since he didn't take my nonverbal "leave me alone" cues. My conversation with the young Maori man was quite pleasant at first, and I honestly felt bad having rushed to judgment after realizing he just wanted to talk because his mom was dying of cancer and he was sad and needed company. As soon as he found out I was American, though, the conversation took an immediate downturn to how many brand names he had in his closet and how much he liked Tupac. I was happy when he got off the bus about an hour later.

My nose happily back in my book, I barely noticed that darkness had begun to fall. Pausing in thought, I looked out the window to spot a menacing grey sea meters away rolling in an equally grey darkness. It was a dangerously beautiful welcome to Wellington, the real windy city.

After deboarding my Intercity bus, I hopped on a city bus to my hostel and met Tamas, a Hungarian man without a country who has become my partner in fate. Destiny has dictated over the past few weeks that we continue to bump into each other unexpectedly and completely randomly (in a supermarket, walking past a cafe) in various cities throughout New Zealand. However, anytime we actually make plans to meet up, something happens and our plans fail. Our serendipitous encounters, nonetheless, are welcome and I hope they continue as we follow a similar trajectory across the globe.

That night was an early one for me--funny how 10 hours on a bus can make you utterly exhausted. The next morning, fate again stuck a hand in on this journey of mine, and I met a girl named Ditte Jensen, whose name will be forever engraved in my mind, as I have assumed her identity. What's that, you say? Let me explain. I had explored the north island on my own, as I knew I'd be meeting up with Lance and would have a car for a portion anyway. However, as I had only 2 1/2 weeks on the south island, and was still feeling a bit lonely after having left Lance in a McDonald's parking lot in Gisborne, I decided I'd hop on one of the many organized tours through the south island. There are a number of companies that run coaches throughout New Zealand. Along the way, you stop at times for hikes or random museums dedicated to possums. You also have the option of hopping off in any town we stay overnight and waiting for another bus to follow, be it 2 days later or 5 months. It's a nice system, and while I like to organize things myself, knowing my time was very limited, I liked the idea of having everything organized for me.

Anyway, blah blah blah, I was looking to hop most likely on a bus called the Kiwi Experience. I mentioned this to the now infamous, in some circles anyway, Ditte, who had purchased a Kiwi ticket for both the north and south islands but had only ended up using the north island portion of the ticket. She offered to sell me her ticket at a discount, and I agreed. And thus was born Ditte Allison Jensen. I go by my middle name, in case you're wondering.

The truly entertaining portion of this story must wait until I get to my entry on the south island and my Kiwi experience. First, the rest of Wellington.

After my illegal transaction (during the course of which I lost my ATM card somewhere. At least karma avenged my cheating ways quickly) I set off to the quaint, artsy, bohemian Cuba St., where I had a long black (coffee) and some brekky. And then I fell in love. Don't worry mom, I'm not running off and eloping yet; it was a museum, not a man, that won my affection. I don't know how normal this is, but whatever.

The name of the object of my affection is named Te Papa, and it may sound like I am exaggerating when I say I fell in love with it, but I swear, it was the most amazing museum I have ever set foot within. Dan, you'd have loved the first floor of this place, dedicated to the flora and fauna of New Zealand. Very visually appealing and colorful, with life-size models of animals and plants, contemporary and ancient, accompanied by commentary on select species by New Zealand children. There was also a hands-on discovery zone with all sorts of microscopes and puzzles intended for children. I of course had a ball. Outside the first floor, the museum had reproduced native New Zealand bush and a little cave system. There were also rocks that had stood as silent witnesses to the passing of time since 200 million years before the dinosaurs. I was humbled.

While the first floor was obviously geared towards the kiddies (and you consequently had to endure screaming children tripping you constantly), the other floors appealed more to the adults. The second floor dealt with the changes the New Zealand landscape had sadly borne witness to over the past few hundred years. The idyllic landscape of green rolling hills that I adore and see as iconic of New Zealand bears no relation to the native bush and massive kauri forests that once covered the land here. A land that was previously only 5% grassland is now 51%. On the other hand, 85% of New Zealand's land was once covered in forest. Of that original amount, only 25% remains. The massive botanical redefinition of New Zealand really struck me, and I find it strangely odd that vistas we see as definitive of New Zealand really have nothing to do with what the land should look like. Furthermore, New Zealand has the unfortunate distinction of having the greatest number of native species of fauna that are now extinct. So what caused this huge upset? Logging, of course, and clearing land purposefully for farms. The biggest disruption, however, was the introduction of non-native species into a region whose isolation had created species with few natural defenses. The sardonically funny thing is that a lot of these introduced species came to New Zealand not out of necessity but as a comfort to the European settlers who missed home and for whom NZ was simply too exotic. Of course, none of the truly massive disruption occurred until the European settlers arrived. How is it that the cultural group that became most powerful was also the group that time and again caused the most disruption and destruction, not only of plants and animals, but also of cultural groups that actually seemed to get it have a much more healthy and sustainable relation with their surroundings and each other?

At any rate, I'll leave the ethnocultural debate at that, at least until I read Guns, Germs and Steel. I will say, however, that the Te Papa also provided me with a great admiration for the Maori culture-- for one because of the way the Europeans destructive ways were contrasted with the Maori attitude towards mother nature: in sum, they didn't own the land; the land owned them. Also, the third floor of the museum was dedicated to the Maori culture and customs, and also to the lengthy struggle they have faced in trying to maintain their land. I am not informed enough of the Maori culture and history at this point to comment too much, but I have certainly developed a deep respect and curiosity, a curiosity which I plan to pursue. It's funny, because I had assumed that the NZ and Oz portions of my journey would be more like Elizabeth Gilbert's Italy: a pursuit of pleasure (that's a reference to Eat Pray Love, best book ever), while the main goal of my journey, the internal, introspective and, for lack of a better word, spiritual pursuit, would occur in SE Asia and India. Te Papa opened my eyes, however, and reminded me of a rich tradition and belief system here in front of my face. It also reawakened the anthropologist within. I had forgotten about her. It's nice to have her back. I look forward now to spending a bit more time in the Outback in Oz now that I have her within me again, and seeing what the Aborigines have to teach me.

Enough of this weird multiple personality stuff, on with Wellington. I bumped into Tamas at the Te Papa, the second in our now extended history of random encounters, and we shared some Indian food, coffee and good conversation the rest of the evening. That was nice as I had just started to feel a bit lonely inside the museum. Funny how fate sends someone along your path just when you need them. I was all alone in my 6-bed dorm room at the hostel that night, so I took advantage of the rare moment of solitude and the inspiration I had gathered from my conversation with Tamas to write a bit.

Anyway, the next day I strolled through the waterfront and down to the unimpressive Parliament building, which didn't even warrent a picture, and then took the cable car up to the botanical gardens. The gardens were beautiful. Unfortunately, it was frigidly cold, and Wellington's ever-present gales didn't help, so I made my way back down to the Te Papa. Mind you I had spent 6 hours there the day before. Must be true love. That night I went with some girls from the Magic bus (a Kiwi competitor) who had moved into my dormroom to a local backpackers' bar, where I got teased by the Magic driver since I would depart with Kiwi the next day. Little did I know that at that same bar were a number of future friends, people I'd join the next day on the Kiwi bus, and with whom I'd grow close as only people travelling together and sharing space and experiences can grow. I recognized a number of their faces on the bus the next day, and from now on will truly never forget them. My Kiwi adventure as Ditte Jensen was set to begin.

posted by La Rizz @ 12:06 AM