Little Creatures, Big Thoughts

Turns out I thought I had more exciting animal pictures than I actually do. I feel like we spent a lot of time looking at critters but I guess I was too excited to remember to take pictures. My memories of all the crawlers are crystal clear and I think that's exactly why I thought I had tons to show you.

Now that that's been cleared up, I'll present to you my favorite animal. The wombat. I have loved wombats for many years and would do almost anything to hold one and make it love me. Look at this little guy.

I was so excited to be in the presence of a wombat that I did not read any informative plaques or pay attention to the wombat's keeper while she explained his meal preferences. I just watched this little guy waddle around and eat a deconstructed salad. I just really wish he loved me as much as I loved him. 

We also saw koala bears and various marsupials. There were lions and tigers and even little meerkats. Mom spent a lot of time looking at the tigers. I couldn't tolerate standing in a glob of humans who's small children had no qualms about wrapping their little rat-sized hands in my hair or holding onto my thighs to get a better view. I left the tiger den and stood with Dad who was watching a small Asian girl throw a huge tantrum. These are the sorts of things available for observing when one visits a zoo.

Before I move on to the most important post of our time spent in Sydney, I'll tell you that I do lots of big thinking when I'm in a new place. And I don't think it's the presence of new things that make me think but rather the absence of my routine and all the little things that make up my little bubble of life.
I had all sorts of good thoughts about people and life when I was on this trip. I think its because your brain has to work more slowly, going over new details and working things out and then all that thinking leads to new thoughts you've never had before and it all tree-branches from there.

Back home your brain is in a routine of thoughts;
Ugh! I don't want to get up yet. What will I wear today? Did I pack my lunch? What time is it?
Then you get to work and have your assortment of Work Thoughts.
Did I send out that bill yet? I need to start that before Wednesday. Oh! I stepped on a daisy! What time is it? Did I call him back?
And when you get home you mull over dinner options and decide if it's worth exercising or if Netflix sounds more entertaining. I need to go to Walmart this weekend. Where's my shampoo? What was that sound?

When you're off in a new place and the comforts of home are not an option, you venture out. You try new food. You sit by the water. You ask other humans for help. You might even go to a show. It reminds you of all the things you could be doing, maybe not everyday, but certainly sometimes in all your free time. When I come back from trips I always have big plans to sign up for fun classes or try rock climbing but going home and getting resettled is such an ordeal that you put those fun things on the back burner and before you know it you've forgotten the excitement of trying new things and you'd rather stay home "just for tonight" because you're so so tired.

I wish I could find something in my everyday life that makes my brain wake up from it's routine and think about new ideas. A stimulant. That's what they call that isn't it? There's no brain stimulant in my life bubble.

What I just rambled about up there is not what I was thinking about on my trip. That all just occurred to me as I prepared to offer you my new insights but now that I think about it, I'm going to save those nuggets for another day.

Sydney

Mom and I arrived in Sydney on a Saturday night and when we woke up at seven the next morning, Burma Dad was knocking on our door. We caught up with each other over a beautiful breakfast spread and then headed out to explore this new city. Sydney is unexpectedly large and busy but still a pleasant place that’s easy to navigate. At times it felt like a sunny day in a laid back version of New York City. Sydney has always seemed so far off and therefore, exotic and new but except for the accents, it could easily be a large city in the States. All the same places and things, just with a different spin. I liked the spin. Whatever it was, it made the place feel Australian rather than American and was enough to convince me I could move there and I’d only be missing my dock (And family. And friends. And proximity to Europe).

Here we did a bit of trinket shopping but because Dad was here, we did other things too. We spent our first day in Sydney wandering around town with Dad’s sixteen pound, bright green bag of Burma laundry.  Though we Googled laundry places, none were within walking distance except for one called Chinese Laundry. So we walked and we walked and we thought we couldn’t find it but at the last minute we saw a purple sign that said “Chinese Laundry” and had a dragon and some Chinese symbols. We followed the purple arrows down a seedy staircase under an overpass and down a trash covered walkway into a dark building blasting techno music. 

Chinese Laundry turned out to be a night club. I figured this out just one second too late and couldn’t stop Dad from wandering inside and presenting his big green bag to an angry man who was sweeping up last nights cigarette butts and plastic cups. Dad had a hard time understanding that they did not do laundry there and while we chuckled at the time, it was several days before we were really struck by how funny this was. We genuinely wonder how often tourists try to bring their dirty clothes to that night club. So poor Dad had to carry The Bag around all day, even letting it sit next to him in the booth while ate lunch.

We took The Bag with us to Darling Harbor, a touristy part of town with little shops and cafes. We visited a fantastic zoo, took ferry rides through the harbor, explored the city center, did lots of eating, and spent lots of time with Dad’s big Lebanese cousins and uncles. But that Lebanese crowd I will save for another post.

I’ll have you know that I tried Vegemite and I now feel violated. I’ve spent my entire life thinking that Vegemite was the Australian version of Nutella or perhaps even a substitute for peanut butter. In fact, the Vegemite was right next to the Nutella at our beautiful breakfast spread every morning, thus confirming my thoughts on the matter. So because I love peanut butter and Nutella, I slathered a hearty glob onto an untoasted piece of bread and with no hesitation, popped that puppy into my mouth and began chewing.

It has been over a decade since I have been so repulsed by something that I couldn’t even be polite enough to just power through it. I had to spit it out and I then rubbed grapefruit and butter on my tongue just to get the taste out of my mouth. “I feel different.” I told Mom when it was all over. It tasted like beef jerky, blended in to liquid with coffee, buried underground to ferment and then mixed with enough flour to make it into a paste. I will not try it again. 

I was later informed that Vegemite is a savory spread that is not intended to be eaten in large quantities. It is high in iron and B12 and would help keep you alive if you got lost in the Outback or kidnapped by Aborigines. It is NOT Nutella. I discussed my outrage with my new cousins one night and they all laughed at me and told me that you put a tiny little dab or two on toasted bread with lots of cheese and even butter. “It takes the place of meat. Like all the vitamins in a piece of meat.” they told me with genuine pity.

In other news, there was a cold wind in Sydney that kept Dad and me in the hotel room anytime there was not something we were supposed to be doing. One day, a trinket shopping day, Dad got so cold and crabby that he threw a little tantrum and took a cab back to the hotel even though it was only three blocks away. Mom and I laughed at him and then popped into a Chocolatier’s shop and had the best hot chocolate we’ve ever tasted. It was rich and thick and not like that watery Swiss Miss crap they give you at home. Just like in Europe, it is illegal to use corn syrup and chemical sweeteners to make their sweets and sodas delicious. Therefore, things taste sweeter and better and they make things like hot chocolate with real chocolate and that real chocolate is sweetened with real sugar. It a big delicious cycle of cavities and natural sweetness and Mom and I bought lots of chocolate.

On our last day of the trip we went to Bondi Beach, the most famous of Australian beaches. I have dreamt of Bondi Beach since I was a teenager and decided I wanted to be a hippie/beach bum/vagabond and I set my sights on surf havens where I’d find other ‘Stick it to The Man’ types that lived in vans and made pottery. It’s still my dream. It just costs a lot of money to a homeless traveler. So I was delighted to go to Bondi, however it was wintertime, very chilly, and covered in neon barrels and construction workers who were setting up for a running marathon the next weekend. It was still beautiful and confirmed my suspicions that it would thrill me but I’ll just have to come back in the summer someday.

I will present more of Sydney to you in my next two posts. I want to show you all the Australian creatures we encountered and the rip-roaring good times visiting Sydney’s little Lebanon.

Wellington

We liked Wellington. In fact, we loved Wellington. We both decided we could happily move to Wellington.

Most of my notes of Ole Welli were less about the place and more about Mom’s various eccentricities. We came to Wellington to trinket shop and see the botanical garden. “That’s really all we’d be interested in.” she told me, folding her map and stuffing it down into her purse. We. That’s all WE’D be interested in. For those of you who don’t know, all of the Tolkien movies were filmed in New Zealand and much of it, right outside of Wellington. Some of the most breathtaking views in the world…and she’d rather trinket shop. In her defense, the Hobbiton tours were very expensive.

Here in Wellington something in Mom shifted. Her appetite doubled, she slept like a baby and worst of all, she became obsessed with shopping. “We gotta get up early and hit that gift shop!” she said to me one night, bringing the thick blackout curtains together and curling up under her covers. We were staying in a hotel that was conveniently located close to all those things we’d be interested in and we were upgraded to the club level. This meant free breakfast, a turn down service, and the ability to wander into the club lounge at any time and find refreshments and hors d’oeuvers. Mom was occasionally put out by various details of the “club level” that did not meet her expectations.

Wellington is great because it is a smaller city on the water. Something about the presence of water slows folks down a bit but the city is still large enough to have just the right amount of bustle to make you feel like a city slicker while still being able to enjoy tropical greenery and grassy hills. See now, don’t you like Wellington?

I will say, it was very cold here. Wellington is the farthest south you can go on the North Island and it had a perpetual chilly wind that whipped between buildings and up the back of your neck. Most days, we would come back to our room and have a hot cup of tea just to warm up and take a break from all the shopping. Across the street from our hotel was a tall building that blocked part of our view of the harbor. The building’s first two floors made a parking garage but the rest of it was office space and the top floor had a few penthouse apartments. Mom and I spent a lot of our time looking in the windows of this building and watching all the commotion. Mom noted which workers stayed past five each day and commented often that a man in the corner apartment never gets out of his chair. We would watch the busy building and slurp our tea and make up the dialogue for each afternoon meeting.

What we did do while we were here was some trinket shopping and a perfect meander through a botanical garden that you follow down a little mountain side. We had an oversized Italian dinner, visited a natural history museum and also, went to the Night Market. This was a neat thing. In a pedestrian part of town, a bunch of restaurants and crafty types set up booths to create a farmers-market style bazaar. There were a few musicians there as well, which seemed to make the place popular amongst local teenagers. Here at the night market, Mom ate a foot long Moroccan sandwich and a double scooped ice-cream cone and then washed it all down with a mug of hot chocolate. “Ahh.” she said, polishing off the last slurp and raising her empty glass. I stared in amazement. “What’s gotten into you?” I asked.

Before we leave New Zealand, I'd like to tell you that it is a tidy place with lots of unexpected details around all the corners. The New Zealanders have good spirits about them. They're quick to laugh, approachable, and often times quite chatty. We had a number of humorous conversations with people; one who immediately recognized Mom's attempt at a New Jersey accent and another who made sure us South Carolinians had taken down our flag. "We get your news here." he told me with a smile. We like New Zealand and I'm just going to have to come back to see that South Island scenery.

Auckland

I won’t bore you with the 36 hour tale of making our way to Auckland. I will tell you only that Mom and I had a wonderful time together and became slaphappy around the same hour of our journey, cackling audibly amongst other drowsy travelers. I had a sore throat scare during our layover in Los Angeles and Mom became fixated on and obsessed with a giant decorative screen that rotated moving images from falling water to the working insides of a grandfather clock. “Look at it now!” she said every few minutes, pointing as though I hadn’t seen it yet. Our thirteen hour flight to Auckland was not too terrible and our aisle-mate found it amusing when we added sound effects to our meal times and were laughing so hard that no noise came out.

As we made our way off of the airplane and over to Customs we noticed that the Auckland airport was full of threatening signs. They allow absolutely nothing into their country. The signs were huge and written in red. “DISPOSE OF ALL FOOD ITEMS OR PAY!”, “DECLARE, DISPOSE, OR PAY!”, “$450 FINE”. There was one every thirty feet. I immediately pitched an apple I had bought back in Houston. Mom had a bag of almonds. “I’m not throwing away my almonds. They were expensive.” she said unwavering and she ignored the signs and carried her little bag of almonds right up to the Customs agent. “I have these nuts.” she said confidently and extended the bag towards the uniformed woman and held them there for a long time. 

The woman ignored Mom and her bag of nuts as asked us other questions related to illegal weapons and the purpose of our visit. While she spoke, she glanced at Moms nuts, still suspended there under her nose and interrupted herself, “You can put those away.” Mom seemed confused and a bit let down as she tucked the baggie back into her purse.

Auckland is a big busy city and it is wall to wall full of Asian people. Most signs are written in English and again in Asian script. It didn’t occur to us until we got there that Asia isn’t that far away and it makes a lot of sense to find a large Asian population in the biggest city in New Zealand. In my notes I described Auckland as an Asian city built by the British and placed in the Caribbean, if that makes sense. I’ve not been to a legitimate big, busy city that has palm trees and tropical plants growing next to metro tunnels and bus stops. There are tons of different ethnicities and even more complex accents. People move there from all over and learn English. So they have their natural English speaking accent, say French or Korean and they’ve added on the intonations of the New Zealand accent. Most sentences end in a question sound? Like valley girls? But less annoying because you know it’s actually how they speak?

Mom and I spent our time in Auckland doing some hardcore trinket shopping. All day everyday. It was chilly there as it is currently wintertime and some days would sprinkle some light rain. This never stopped Trinket Mom who dragged me all through the city center looking at mugs and prints and tea towels. I did not complain about the trinket shopping because I was mentally prepared for it. Mom and I are very different travelers. Mom likes to go to a place and see what’s available for purchase, though she will not usually buy things for herself even if she really likes them. I like to go to a place and explore the landscape. Where our traveling preferences overlap are wonderful areas such as people watching, mid-day ice cream, and an affinity for eating breakfast out somewhere. It’s the clinking noises we like. Other meal dishes are noisy. Breakfast ones are small and delicate and make The Breakfast Noise.

One day we took a ferry to Davenport, a Mediterranean looking island in Auckland’s harbor that has a hiking trail leading to the best view of the city. Finally, something up my alley. I encouraged Trinket Mom as we stood at the base of the hill. “It’s going to be great Mom! And good for us! And there are no snakes in New Zealand!" That’s a fact. I wasn’t lying this time. 

Perhaps it was the small change in altitude for our dehydrated and sleep deprived bodies, but I imagine we ascended about 60 yards before we both felt really sick and turned around. Instead we had lunch in a little French café, treated ourselves to tea and dessert, and then continued trinket shopping. We really liked the souvenirs here and were elated by such interesting finds. We later decided that a lot of our souvenir store thrills were due to jet lag. 

In Auckland we visited a lovely park and had a number of tasty meals. We perpetually ran into this boy named Tom who stood on street corners giving information about and taking donations for UNICEF. The first day we met Tom he wiggled all ten of his fingers at us and said, "Ello Ladies!" with his thick accent. We smiled and walked past him without listening to his spiel. Though we worked a different section of town each day, so did Tom. He recognized the two of us each time and would try to talk to us though we would giggle and politely move by. One day Mom and I were walking along and I saw him standing in the distance. "Oh no it's the fingers boy!" I shouted and it struck both of us as so funny that we busted out laughing, catching Tom's attention. He turned to us, put his hands on his hips, and gave us a devilish smile. "It's fate!" he shouted happily and so we finally stopped to meet Tom and we decided he was a pretty good guy.

We thought Auckland was interesting but we don't feel like we need to go again. Though it was different in greenery, it was in fact just another big city full of hurried people with things to do. There were very few leisurely walkers stopping for ice cream and photo-ops. In fact, all but two photos were taken in Davenport and one of the city parks because the streets were too crowded and busy to take pictures. Also, I tend to not find a lot of appeal to city photos or building clusters. That's my own preference I suppose. I apologize. 

Perhaps in the summer Auckland feels less commercial somehow but after our four days Mom and I were happy to head south to the capital.

We're Back

and we're really tired. We keep waking up at two and three in the morning and glomming through our days with one eye open. Tomorrow I start my new gig and while I'm not nervous about the job, I'm very nervous that I'll be devastatingly tired. The kind of tired that makes you want to give up and cry.

We had an interesting vacation. I use the word interesting because I don't think any of us would classify this trip with all the others. It was like a business trip or perhaps doing research for a documentary type film. It can be described as highly enjoyable, factual observations that left you truly exhausted and temporarily deaf in one ear.
I'll tell you all about it soon.

The main hurdle will be getting my photos out of my camera. My computer is 100% out of storage space so the pictures are trapped on my little camera disk. I've got to go through the 15,000 (that's right) photos that I have on my trusty laptop and throw out the ones no one wants to look at (about 14,900 of them). It will take me some time.
It will also take me some time to organize my trip notes. I wouldn't dare make you endure a day by day report so I need to break it into noteworthy sections.

But also you know, I just have a lot on my mind right now. Going new places does that to you. But I've really got to get my head together for my first week trying to impress a new employer and also unpacking and paying bills. Oh and Jared is coming on Wednesday!

So hold your breath! It's coming.