Dump

Arrived at SFO exhausted. But glad to be home. And what do I see, in the cab, three blocks from my apartment, but a man taking a dump on the sidewalk. What kind of a place allows humans to do such a thing? When SF is known as being "that place where all the homeless live." Is this humane?

But my more immediate thought is "why do I live here, again?"

Cost of living

Following up on my previous post, if I lived in a city like this, luxuries like this awesome gym (where I'm working out as we speak) would be affordable. My crap gym in SF costs 40 bucks a month. Same price for the Taj Mahal gym I'm in right now.

It happened again: medium city love

My day began in Salt Lake City with a quick trip to Temple Square, where all of the Mormon stuff is. I had 30 minutes before heading to the airport, and spent half of it talking with missionaries patrolling the square. They all wear badges that say what country they come from (I met ones from Philippines, South Korea, Japan, and Denmark. They told me about what their mission is like (they don't get to go to Utah Jazz games but want to, and they only get one day off a week during which they're supposed to do grocery shopping etc, and therefore they don't go hiking or any other tourist-like activities). I asked about plural marriage knowing the answer (it's not condoned by LDS), but wanted to see what they said anyways.

The square puts on a positive image of Mormonism. They're clearly a religion that wants people to like them.

My cab drivers today:
- Iraqi who had been in salt lake for 7 years
- Guy from Burundi who had spent 15 years in a refugee camp
- Guy from Sudan who had been in a refugee camp for 10 years in Uganda. He said the main reason he wanted to come to America (vs Australia or Canada) was opportunity, and that the main thing he wanted for his kids is education. I told him about my work in Idaho - writing a case study on Khan Academy - and he was excited his kids could get Khan for free.

After a few interviews with teachers and a student focus group, we had dinner with our client - the head honchos of the Albertson Foundation. Very nice folks and very knowledgeable about the change they're trying to make in Idaho.

And of course the same old bug hit me: medium-sized cities! Boise had a vibrant downtown with great restaurants and beer. It feels a lot like Grand Rapids, but just a tad bigger. This is the kind of place I want to live in eventually. I'd have room to maneuver, and to build relationships. It's my kind of place.

The same, everywhere I go

I was supposed to be in Boise tonight for work, but got stuck in Salt Lake City because of bad weather. We took off from SLC, circled BOI airport, then turned around. For most of the flight I exchanged stories and jokes with an 80-year old retired catholic priest. He spends a couple months a year being the official catholic priest on Norwegian Cruise Lines. They pay his full fare... Not bad. He also has a stack of stories he's collected over the years (literally has hundreds of typed pages of stories) that he memorized.

So I'm in Salt Lake tonight. Tomorrow before my flight to Boise I'll try to stop by the big square with the Mormon church (although I can't enter - only Mormons allowed). I ended up eating at a diner called Robert's Restaurant, and felt right at home. There's something about getting out of the big city that I love. I've written about this feeling a few times on my blog. It's a feeling of being home. Of being down home. Of feeling taken care of by your waitress or cab driver. It's listening to Fleetwood Mac, Bon Jovi, and Tears for Fears (all on rotation at Robert's Restaurant). In these situations, I'm in my element. My style is different than my dad's, but I learned a lot of lessons from him about how to relate to people. How to tell a joke (still working on that skill). How to be real with people. I feel like I can be more folksy when I'm outside the big city. I'm in my element.

Through a traveler's eyes

I'm halfway through my first day back at work, and feel re-energized. A big part of my happiness is that I got 9.5 hours of sleep last night.

But I'm also seeing my city through fresh eyes. Everyone we talked with in NZ seemed to regard SF as a magical place they all wanted to visit someday. I can see why. My walk to get lunch went by the Bay Bridge, and ended in the Ferry Building, a haven of delicious/local/organic/etc food stalls and restaurants.

At least today, I appreciate where I live. It's a beautiful area, has infinite things to explore, and despite the smell of piss (which was the first sensation I had after entering the city yesterday), it's a pretty good place to live. I will do my best to remember that.

A few reflections on New Zealand

I'm on the plane back to SF and completely exhausted. Back home I'm looking forward to my own bed, my stuff, my routine, my gym, my pillow, my neighborhood, and my friends. It's a true homecoming... It doesn't feel like I'm going to a place that's temporary. I like my life in SF and I'm happy to go back to it. 

That said, I just finished an amazing trip. I won't go into everything I thought about or learned, but suffice it to say that this trip, like all others before it, helped me see the works in a new way. 

- I learned about Maori (and Pacific Island) culture - the Te Papa museum is one of the best. Now I want to do a haka chant before every important presentation I make. I learned from the travelers and locals I met, as well, such as the big things (are gap years worth it?) to small things (the reason why some countries drive on the left side of the road). 

- I saw what is undoubtedly some of the most stunning scenery in the world. Lake Marian was the most special because we were alone for 60 minutes at the beautiful alpine lake. But almost everything else was world-class. 

- I had to negotiate my relationship with Shweth. In all, we got along great. Of course there were bumps, as to be expected, but by the end of the trip we knew each others' strengths and weaknesses and could cover for one another. In the end we were a team.

- I had that serendipitous experience I always want when I travel. Susan and Ladislav were my surrogate parents for two nights, and I met some incredibly hospitable locals who invited me to their home.

- I saw wildlife up close: fur seals, kiwi birds (and hears their mating calls at night - a very special memory), dolphins jumping in the air. 

- I checked bungee jumping off my bucket list

- I listened to a huge number of podcasts during our long drives, specifically the Moth, HBR Ideacast, and All Songs Considered

- I had time to think to myself. Not about anything in particular, but in the absence of cell coverage I could let my mind wander. A rare, appreciated experience these days. 

- I lost four pounds (a good thing). Prior to the trip I had gained a lot of weight because of some headaches. I am now back to my ideal weight and feel healthy, due to eating well and exercising during the trip. 

- Aside from just seeing the sights, I participated. Two sea kayaks, a bungee and a swing, five long hikes (including one on a glacier and one traversing volcanos and craters), a helicopter ride, a few scenic urban runs, and a spelunking adventure.

What I did NOT get was sleep. Despite always wanting more, I was happy with the tradeoff of less sleep for more awesomeness. 

In New Zealand (and in other places too), it's tempting to view your trip as a checklist. Bungee. Kayak. Skydive. Hike. And there's a good reason for this: New Zealand has so many "must do" activities, and they in large part defined our trip. But in doing so, we risk being tourists, and not travelers. Jenny and I experienced this in Mexico when we packed so many activities into the trip, yet found ourselves wanting more unstructured time - to talk with the locals, take an extra couple hours at the cafe to read the newspaper, drink another beer, or stay out late because you don't have to get up early in the morning.

Planned activities are the bones of most trips. In Tanzania, our trip would have been completely different without planning the safari. But in my experience, the most special memories arise serendipitously. It's the two Germans on their gap year who you talk to over dinner, it's the respect that you gain for your safari guide, it's meeting a friend in Mexico City before a lucha libre match, it's staying two extra weeks in Granada because you found a home away from home at a language school and the Funky Backpackers hostel, it's going to the county fair in Nevada City, it's going on a callejonera and partying with locals in Guanajuato, its sitting at a restaurant in La Isla Janitzio in Michoacan while it pours down rain and you get drunk with new friends then boat hitchhike to another island, it's having your kayak trip in Milford Sound canceled because of weather but then enjoying a sublime alpine lake. And of course it's about all of those small interactions that don't even qualify as things or events. I don't know about you, but I remember almost all of them. One important thing I've learned about myself this year is that I enjoy interacting with other people not "just because," but because I revel in the exchange of information, feelings, and understanding. This can happen through a guided tour or a 10-second interaction. What travel allows me to do is have so many of these interactions in such a short timeframe. It's a dense power pack of experiences. 

When traveling, these moments cannot be planned. One has to be open to them and be willing to seize them when they arise. I guess seizing this applies to life in general - not just travel. Life exists in the moments between the big events. In the day-to-day. In the seemingly mundane. Travel focuses us on every little detail. The meaningless becomes meaningful. Why not do that in our normal lives?

New Zealand Day 16

My last day in New Zealand. It's been an epic trip, but I'm ready to come home.

We stayed in a motor lodge near Waitomo. The room was ridiculously warm so we put the two floor fans to use. A stupid Liam Neison (sp) movie kept me up until 10, then I crashed. We woke up at 6:15... My last early wake up!

I had no expectations for the Legendary Black Water Rafting Company or the caves. My mind was mostly on going through the motions and getting home. But I was pleasantly surprised. We signed up for the Black Abyss tour - the longest one they offer at 5 hours (about 3.5 hours in the cave). Because of the early start time, our group was only 4 people (including a couple from NZ living in London) plus two guides, a couple 22-year olds. We abseiled 40m into the cave, then did a number of things:
- Sat in tubes as we coasted toward an (increasingly audible) sound of rushing water while we looked up at the glow worms
- learned about the glow worms
- zip lined (called "flying foxes" in NZ)
- climbed up through a couple waterfalls

In all, a really fun experience and well worth it.

Afterward, we made a quick stop at a small aviary to see live kiwis being fed. Normally kiwis don't like humans, but this one liked the human, and the caretaker pet the kiwi (rubbing it's feathers up and down, patting it) as if you'd treat a dog or cat.

The end was near. We drove 3 hours to the Auckland airport, and Shweth let me off. He has one more day in NZ. For me, I'm on a flight back to SF as we speak and couldn't be happier.

Photos:
- the huge TV at our lodge in Tongariro National Village Park. Watched a bit of Dumb and Dumber
- I snapped a few photos of the NZ countryside. It's very diverse, but you see a lot of this sort in the north island. Very quaint.
- our glow worm caves group

New Zealand Day 15

I already talked about days 11-14 in other posts (Wellington and Bay of Islands).

After flying to Auckland and renting a car, we drove to Tongariro Crossing. We passed through Lake Taupo, which struck us as touristy and not very pretty; we were glad we didn't make it our destination.

On day 15 we woke around 6:10am to hike the Tongariro Crossing. It is billed as one of the best one-day hikes in the world. A bus took us to the beginning and picked us up at the end. It was very crowded, but it didn't bother me. Tongariro looks like the moon (see photos). One of the peaks was portrayed as Mt. Doom in Lord of the Rings. The hike lasted about 8 hours - tough but doable. We:
- hiked up to Mt Doom but didn't go up it (would've required our being on hands and knees for two hours)
- Went to the summit of Mt Tonariro
- Hiked past the "red crater" (see if you can identify in the photos - very impressive)
- Had lunch by the Emerald Lakes and nearby steam coming out of the rock
- Hiked out through the blast zone of a volcano that erupted last in 2012

Afterward we drove two hours to Waitomo, set of our last adventure before heading home.

Photos:
- Mt Doom in the background. We hiked all along the "floor" in this photo
- Red Crater
- one of the emerald lakes
- me, commanding the steam to rise
- emerald lake

New Zealand Days 9-10

I spent the morning trying to sleep in after another poor night's sleep. After a solo walk to the base of the fjord, our kayak tour began. The group consisted of me, Shweth, a confident female med student from Canada, an affable young French couple living in Singapore, and an American couple (both teachers) living in Egypt.

A speedboat took us and our kayaks out to the end of the fjord (it's a fjord, not a sound), and we took 3.5-4 hours to kayak back. Our guide, a bro-ish but nice kiwi guy, did a very good job. We passed a rock with fur seals and kayaked under a big waterfall. The highlight was holding our four kayaks together in a row and using a tarp as a sail. We traveled about 2-3km at a speed of 5 knots. Pretty fun.

After a quick shower, the group reconvened at the Blue Duck for pizza and beer.

The next day we woke early (another night of crappy sleep!) and drove to Queenstown. Mercifully, our hostel messed up and gave us a private room with our own bathroom. Shweth went to go skydive while I got healthy by going on a long run then using a healthy pita. I talked to an American family who had just hiked the Milford Track - noted... I'll need to do this next time I visit NZ.

Blissfully, I fell asleep early watching Terminator 2.

Photos:
- dorm room at Milford Lodge
- computers where Shweth and I spent about 5 hours booking stuff
- Milford Lodge
- the presidential suite at YHA hostel in Queenstown
- me and my trusty lambs wool pillow

New Zealand Day 9

After leaving the car wreck, we drove into the Milford Sound national park area. Rain clouds were looming above our destination and the temperature was dropping. But it was beautiful. It's hard to describe the drive in to Milford Sound, especially at dusk prior to a rainstorm. We passed through large fields of tall grass and flowers, then into a medium-density forest, then hit the mountains. An admittedly sketchy one-way tunnel crossed us into the park, and we were met by craggy peaks, slick from the rain.

Milford Lodge is the only accommodation in the park, aside from apartments where employees live. It's a very modest lodge, but we were lucky to spend the night in the park, since the next closest accommodate is Te Anau, two hours away. We were in a room with 12 bunk beds, and I slept horribly. The guy below me seemed to have a toggle witch between "snore" and "fart."

We woke up at 6am (after arriving around 10pm the night before) and gathered our things for a half-day kayak on pristine early-morning waters. Unfortunately they canceled our kayak because of the rain and wind (this happens about once every couple weeks). After conferring, Shweth snd I decided to book the next available kayak, the "afternoon delight," for the next day. We then headed out to a hike to make the most of the day. Funny how these things turn out, but the hike turned out to be one of the highlights of our trip.

Lake Marian is about a 2-hour hike. Once we reached it (see the photo), we were in awe. Nobody else came for an hour, and we stayed about two. For the second hour, rain became more and more powerful, which added to the ambience. To be frank, the spiritual feeling I didn't get a few days prior at the church in Nelson... I got it at Lake Marian. When the rain came, I felt so small. Looking at the lake and mountains, I was in awe of whatever this is - God's creation or a geological happenstance. It didn't matter. It was sublime.

On our hike back, the rain continued to come down. But I didn't mind, given the amazing thing I had just been a part of.

For the rest of the afternoon, we sadly had to book a bunch of activities and accommodations for the rest of the trip. The lodge's wifi was painfully slow, and expensive. After we finished, we had dinner and beer at the Blue Duck Cafe, the only place to eat aside from the lodge. Our waiter was from Tennessee and we talked college football for a while. A good end to a great day.

Photos are:
- Lake Marian
- Me and Shweth
- My Reynaud's disease hands. This happens whenever they get cold and wet... I lose all circulation and it takes a while to get it back.
- Waterfalls from the rainstorm, viewed on our way back from Lake Marian
- View from the Blue Duck Cafe toward Mitre Peak (at the base of the fjord). At 10pm - still light.

Magical day

You never know when it's going to happen - that serendipitous travel experience that you'll remember for the rest of your life. Today was one of those days for me. What was different about today is that I was aware that it was happening in real time. That is to say, as the events unfolded I was conscious that this would be a day to remember, and I let things emerge based on this consciousness.

I woke up still feeling very tired, but knowing that I slept well. It's very quiet here with the exception of nature noises, which somehow add to the peacefulness. Susan had a full breakfast spread waiting for me: cereal, yogurt, bread, strawberries, bananas, cold cuts, and French press coffee. I was running a bit late so she hurriedly drove me to Paihia, where my dolphin cruise began. It was a medium-size boat holding about 30 people. Comfortable. We stopped at Russell (just across the bay) to pick ip a few more people, and headed out to see dolphins.

The main target are bottlenose dolphins, which are much larger than humans and therefore not intimidated by us (versus common dolphins, which are skittish around humans. Within 5 minutes we tracked a very large pod of dolphins. I was prepared to be underwhelmed ("oh look, there's a dorsal fin"), but was delighted to see so many dolphins. Many of them were jumping high out of the water, and they didn't mind our presence at all (that's what the guides told us, at least). There were juvenile dolphins present, so we couldn't swim with them per DOC rules (the juveniles, which need to nurse every 20 minutes, would get distracted and stop nursing, thus risking hypothermia). There are about 400 bottlenose dolphins between the Bay of Islands and Cape Reinga, and we probably saw around 20 in this pod.

For the rest of the 3.5 hour trip we looked for more dolphins but wee unsuccessful. So, no dolphin swim for us. Still, I had some great conversations with fellow travelers and the crew, so it was very much worth it.

I hopped off the boat at Russell, and had a burger for lunch. Russell normally has 800 residents, but today was one of the busiest days of the year and it was teeming with tourists. It didn't have a carnival atmosphere at all, though. I walked across the peninsula to Long Beach and sat there for 4 hours, alternating between napping, reading, people watching, and swimming. The sun was out and the temperature was pleasant.

I then walked back to Russell, intending to have a beer at a cafe and journal, and stopped at an art exhibition at a small church. One woman, an artist, was inside and we chatted as I looked around. I was struck by some beautiful handmade wood bowls. She said the artist was a 17-year old local kid who would be coming by in a few minutes to clean up his wares, so I stuck around. The kid, Andrew, came with his mom. He looked very similar to my friend Andy Ransford - slim, blonde, soft-spoken. Anyway, we talked for a bit about the bowls and other things. I ended up buying bowls made of swamp kauri and pohutukawa - the two most famous trees native to New Zealand. The bowls are beautiful and I had to stop myself from buying more.

The mom then said I should see a kauri tree in the wild before I leave. How to do this? She thought about it and said I should join the three of them for dinner on the beach, then we'll go see another local art exhibit for a few minutes, then her son will take me to see the trees, then we can stop by her house for tea (this is a condensed version of what happened).

We jumped in the car and Andrew drove me to see the trees - massive things - in a very quiet nature reserve. We then drove to their house, which has an amazing view of a cove... Really classy house. After my cup of tea, andrew showed me the tools he uses to create the bowls, then drove me to the car ferry to Opua, where Susan picked me up. In the moments waiting for Susan, I couldn't help but let out a smile. The past few hours had been special. I knew it. The people I met invited me to eat with them, to their home, and to come stay with them anytime. They made me feel like family, which at this point in the trip, is exactly what I needed and wanted. I kept smiling and rhetorically asking myself "what IS this???"

Susan brought me back, and for an hour I chatted with the new house guests (a 50-ish couple from Australia), Susan, and Ladislav over a glass of wine.

This day made my trip. Before yesterday I was regretting (a bit) not having more interaction with kiwis. Today - I feel satisfied. I've had the travel experience I love most - connecting with people in a unique way. In an authentic way.

Photos are of:
- the mom (Katrina), me, the artist, Andrew (the artist). We had chicken and chips.
- Russell harbor at sunset
- Me and the kauri tree
- view from their house
- the car ferry to Opua (which I took on foot - costs one dollar)

Jackpot

It's 11pm and I have a dolphin your to be up for at 7am. I couldn't be happier because:

Susan picked me up from the airport (smallest airport ever). She is a 60-year old brit who moved here with her husband (Ladislav from the Czech Republic) in 1977. Susan is exactly what you'd expect: a kind lady with a sense of humor. Great to talk to. We have a glass of wine in their back yard once we arrive, and talk about many things. It's quiet here in Opua, about a 5-minute drive from Paihia. They live on a fairly rural street and are surrounded by woods.

Later her husband comes to join. We talk about how their son set them up with Netflix over Christmas, the "medical report" of bad knees and such, and how Ladislav watches tv on mute... All are things that my parents do. The other house guests are a young couple who live in wellington. The guy is from Scotland, the girl from Texas. They share craft beer they bought in Coromandel Peninsula, and Ladislav makes us drink some whiskey he created (and tells us why he doesn't like vodka - because when the communist party kicked him out and sent him to the coal mines, he would only drink vodka and got sick of it).

I'm currently listening to the sounds of a female kiwi bird in the bush behind the house. Yes, there are still kiwis and a very few live in the wild. I can't believe my luck that I'm listening to them right now.

Tonight, I'm feeling very lucky.