Because that is what sightseeing in Hong Kong is all about. Each wonderful adventure leaves a lasting impression, not just in my head, but as a sweats stain on my shirt.
The Harbor
On my first full day in Hong Kong I went with one of my roommates, Audrey, to Tsim Sha Tsoi, which is one of the shopping hubs of Hong Kong. We walked around for a little while, but since neither of us had any money to blow we decided on dinner. Audrey is a vegetarian, and my guidebook listed a good and fairly inexpensive vegetarian restaurant in the area, so after some detective work we managed to find it on the 7th floor of a building fairly near the pier. It looked a little fancy for us (table cloths and about as many waiters as tables) but since it was Audrey's last night before flying home to Switzerland after several months of travel, we decided to go for it anyway. We were seated at a table by the window with a fantastic view of the harbor. We each ordered two dishes. It was by far the nicest meal I have had on this trip. And when the bill came we each had to pay the extravagant price of HK$80, or US$10. Now this was a nice change from Australia where $10 might buy you a burger, fries, and a drink, but more likely just the burger. After our luxurious meal we met up with another roommate for a night cruise of the harbor, which gave us a fantastic view of the light show. I am pretty sure that the light show is a uniquely Hong Kong experience. All the buildings on both side of the harbor are lit up and shine spot lights and whatnot for about 20 minutes in time with some music coming from some unseen but undoubtedly huge speakers. It was quite a sight, even though it was pouring rain and we had to time our picture taking with the breaks in the storm.
The Peak
Hong Kong is built somewhat haphazardly between, around, and on the hills that make up most of the islands. "The Peak" as it's called is where you go to get a look at it all. On Friday, I took the Peak Tram up to the top, then rode several escalators to the top of the viewing deck that opens up a spectacular view of everything. It's a strange feeling to be looking down on hundreds of skyscrapers. It's even stranger to walk across the viewing deck and see an expanse of water and islands that, aside from the boats, seems to have no idea of the city that is just around the corner. I decided to walk down instead of taking the tram again, and of course I began to sweat immediately and was quite sweaty and embarrassed by the time I had to sit next to some very serious businessmen on the subway. And that was walking down the hill. Imagine if I had tried to walk up!
The beach
Sunday, I took a ferry out to an island and went to the beach for the day. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and I was looking forward to spending my afternoon buried in this huge book I've borrowed from my hostel. After 30 minutes on the ferry and another 15 walking from the pier to the beach, I put on my third layer of sunscreen and lay down. The sweat was literally pouring off of me, down my nose onto my book, off my legs and arms and back onto my towel, and no matter how many times I reminded myself I had on a ton of sunscreen I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being fried. Even swimming didn't help much, and I only lasted an hour and a half on the beach. I had heard of a nice hour long walk across the island between the beach I was on and the other beach (both with Chinese names I cannot remember), so I decided that walking might be a better way to spend my afternoon. But there wasn't an ounce of shade on the path, and after only 20 minutes I turned around and headed back the way I had come, terrified that I was going to spend the next two weeks peeling sunburned skin off my face. So I ended up wandering around the little town on the island for a while, which was very un-Hong Kong and more like something out of a Jimmy Buffet song.
The Project
The rest of my time has been been spent doing my project, which is much harder here. Even though most people speak English, the University is in summer session and in general people are less talkative. Luckily there is a lot of information on the internet and that has given me a good amount of people to harass through email, which is what I have been doing. The campus is amazing though, set apart from the city and just massive. It's a little quiet since it's summer, but it's kind of fun to be on a campus when it's peaceful.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Hello Hong Kong!
My first and lasting impression of Hong Kong is that it is a very dense city, in every possible way. The buildings, which are almost all several stories, are packed together like books on a bookshelf, bounded only by the mountains on either side of the harbor. People are everywhere, filling up every piece of the sidewalk so that if I try to avoid pushing my way through I end up standing in the same place for minutes. All of the trams and buses are double decker, and people always seem to be spilling out of the windows. Walking down a market street is like moving through an obstacle course with five hundred other people. Green jungle foliage takes up every ounce of space that isn't concrete and spills into the city at every boundary point. Even the air is dense, like trying to breathe steam.
Not that I'm complaining. I think I left the southern hemisphere just before winter really got going so I'm actually enjoying the slight sunburn yesterday left on my shoulders. Tomorrow I am going to an island to do absolutely nothing besides read and swim (although now that I've said that it will probably rain) before spending Monday through Thursday doing interviews at the Chinese University in Hong Kong. I can't speak a word of Chinese. I've tried, and I can't even repeat what people tell me to say. Luckily this is an incredibly English-friendly city and it hasn't been a problem.
My favorite thing about Hong Kong so far is the subway system. It puts every single one I've ever ridden in the US to shame. It's clean, efficient, and easy to maneuver in the same way that our airports are. The faux marble terminals are always playing elevator music, and the cars themselves are immaculate and excellent at pointing out the current station and on which side the doors with open. And it's impossibly inexpensive, like everything else here.
My second favorite thing about Hong Kong is breakfast. I've made a game out of it. There are these little "cake shops" all over the place, but what they really sell is bread. A whole wall is usually covered with shelves of freshly baked things that look like dinner rolls. But one should not be fooled by the innocent dinner roll facade, for inside these buns can be anything from lemon icing to dried salmon flakes to a hot dog. So for breakfast I wander down the street until I find one of these shops, and my only condition is that the signs cannot be in English. I choose the two most innocent-looking rolls I can find, and then go to this little bench I've found and cautiously eat them, first being surprised by what I find inside and then trying to figure out what the hell it is. Then I go into another shop, where the signs are in English and read the signs until I've figured out what I think I've eaten (and buy a small cookie or something to avoid being rude). So far the best surprise is what I am fairly sure was red bean paste. I've also taken to going to the fruit stands and buying anything that looks like a porcupine (because a lot of the fruit here looks a little bit like a porcupine) and then coming back to the hostel and dissecting it until I've decided it is in fact edible, then I eat it. I've fallen in love with dragon fruit.
Not that I'm complaining. I think I left the southern hemisphere just before winter really got going so I'm actually enjoying the slight sunburn yesterday left on my shoulders. Tomorrow I am going to an island to do absolutely nothing besides read and swim (although now that I've said that it will probably rain) before spending Monday through Thursday doing interviews at the Chinese University in Hong Kong. I can't speak a word of Chinese. I've tried, and I can't even repeat what people tell me to say. Luckily this is an incredibly English-friendly city and it hasn't been a problem.
My favorite thing about Hong Kong so far is the subway system. It puts every single one I've ever ridden in the US to shame. It's clean, efficient, and easy to maneuver in the same way that our airports are. The faux marble terminals are always playing elevator music, and the cars themselves are immaculate and excellent at pointing out the current station and on which side the doors with open. And it's impossibly inexpensive, like everything else here.
My second favorite thing about Hong Kong is breakfast. I've made a game out of it. There are these little "cake shops" all over the place, but what they really sell is bread. A whole wall is usually covered with shelves of freshly baked things that look like dinner rolls. But one should not be fooled by the innocent dinner roll facade, for inside these buns can be anything from lemon icing to dried salmon flakes to a hot dog. So for breakfast I wander down the street until I find one of these shops, and my only condition is that the signs cannot be in English. I choose the two most innocent-looking rolls I can find, and then go to this little bench I've found and cautiously eat them, first being surprised by what I find inside and then trying to figure out what the hell it is. Then I go into another shop, where the signs are in English and read the signs until I've figured out what I think I've eaten (and buy a small cookie or something to avoid being rude). So far the best surprise is what I am fairly sure was red bean paste. I've also taken to going to the fruit stands and buying anything that looks like a porcupine (because a lot of the fruit here looks a little bit like a porcupine) and then coming back to the hostel and dissecting it until I've decided it is in fact edible, then I eat it. I've fallen in love with dragon fruit.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
(Mis)adventures in traveling
My flight from Melbourne to Hong Kong was scheduled to depart at noon. I had a plan: catch a tram from St. Kilda to the city center at 8:30, in time to catch the 9:00 express bus to the airport, which would drop me off at the international terminal around 9:30, a healthy two and half hours before my flight. (Don't tell me, but since I am generally running a half hour behind schedule, this plan was actually formed to get me to the airport the recommended two hours prior to departure).
At 8:30 precisely, I bid a sad farewell to Pint on Punt, loaded my backpacks on, had a friend take a picture of me outside, and trekked down the street to 96 tram (the very same tram I had so much trouble finding on my first night in Melbourne). I had forgotten how far down Fitzroy St. the 96 stop was and so didn't get moving until 8:45, when I forced myself into the overstuffed tram, trying not to take out too many disgruntled people in suits with the person-sized cargo on my back. I apologetically squashed myself into a corner and for 15 minutes the tram jerked it's way toward the city as I sat in blissful ignorance of the fact that I had left my sleeping bag at the hostel.
When it hit me, there was a minute of indecision. I don't have time to go back. It would be stupid and I will probably miss my flight. But I don't want to buy a new sleeping bag. And I really like this one. It probably won't take me that long to go back. Okay I'm going to do it. This thought process had caused me to miss a stop and lose precious time, but I was determined not to leave the continent without my sleeping bag.
So at the next stop I hurdled of the tram, hurrying to the other side of the platform and counting the seconds until another one came going the opposite direction. I jumped on. By the time it dropped my off in St. Kilda it was 9:15 and I was realizing that I probably should have just left it behind as a casualty of travel. But I was already so close, so I ran down Fitzroy Street with my big blue backpack bouncing haphazardly on my back as I clutched my little orange one to my front, laughing along with all of the people who saw me coming and made room for me on the sidewalk.
I burst into reception, grabbed my sleeping bag from the storage rack, yelled something that I'm sure was unintelligible, and hurried back out onto the street. I didn't know if I could run all the way back down Fitzroy Street, since I was already sweating in my fleece jacket and my knees were begging me not to. So I made the decision to go to the closer tram stop, catch the 67 or 64 up to Burke Street where I could hopefully catch the 86 across to the bus terminal and not lose too much time. I would have taken a moment to revel in my rather handy knowledge of the Melbourne tram routes after only two weeks, but I could see a tram coming up the road and I still had to cross the street, so I took off at a knee-friendly waddle towards the crossing. My timing was off, and I was prevented from crossing the street by a series of cars that didn't seem to understand what a hurry I was in (if only they drove on the correct side of the road in Australia I wouldn't have had to cross the street and could have caught the tram, but that's another complaint all together).
When the light finally changed, I could see my tram pulling away. I crossed the street trying to look as dejected as possible, and when I reached the tram stop I turned towards the tram's retreating back end and gave an exasperated sigh that I hoped was visible to somebody on board. I'm not sure why I thought that this was necessary, but I had nothing else to do besides wait for the next tram and I suppose I needed to vent my frustration somehow.
Then a bird shat on my head.
Well, my head and my hand actually. At this point all I could do was laugh, and I was so busy using leaves to try and clean myself up that I was pleasantly surprised to find a tram pulling up beside me. I hopped on and asked a perfect stranger to take a picture of me with my bags and my sleeping bag and the bird poo, because despite being late to the airport, I couldn't help thinking that the whole situation was hopelessly funny.
When I jumped off the 67 at Burke Street, I didn't have to wait long for an 86, which carried me to the bus terminal. I arrived at 10:02, just in time to see the 10:00 shuttle leaving without me. So I bought a ticket, went to the bathroom to deal with the bird poo situation, and nervously sat waiting for the 10:20, which didn't actually leave until 10:30, by which point I was wondering what would happen if I did miss my flight.
When I arrived at the airport just before 11:00, there was a line the likes of which I had never seen winding around the departures area, and I realized I was going to have to beg someone to help me out so I could check in and get through security. But it turned out that the line had nothing to do with Qantas and I was able to check in, simultaneously filling out a customs form and telling the woman behind the counter that no, I wasn't carrying and explosives in my backpack. By 11:05 I was rushing off to security, which was blessedly empty. A guard pointed at my water bottle, which I had forgotten about, and watched with a mixture of awe and disgust as I chugged its contents. I could have just poured it out, but they always give such small cups of water on airplanes and I didn't want to arrive in Hong Kong an more dehydrated than absolutely necessary. Then (and I probably should have seen this coming) for the first time in my life, I was pulled aside for a random security screening. They rifled through my backpack, patted me down, checked me with one of those detector sticks, and then let me go.
I looked at my watch. 11:13. All of that worry and I was 47 minutes early for my flight. When I made my way through the sea of duty-free gifts I arrived at the departures board by my gate, which was wisely telling me to relax.
At 8:30 precisely, I bid a sad farewell to Pint on Punt, loaded my backpacks on, had a friend take a picture of me outside, and trekked down the street to 96 tram (the very same tram I had so much trouble finding on my first night in Melbourne). I had forgotten how far down Fitzroy St. the 96 stop was and so didn't get moving until 8:45, when I forced myself into the overstuffed tram, trying not to take out too many disgruntled people in suits with the person-sized cargo on my back. I apologetically squashed myself into a corner and for 15 minutes the tram jerked it's way toward the city as I sat in blissful ignorance of the fact that I had left my sleeping bag at the hostel.
When it hit me, there was a minute of indecision. I don't have time to go back. It would be stupid and I will probably miss my flight. But I don't want to buy a new sleeping bag. And I really like this one. It probably won't take me that long to go back. Okay I'm going to do it. This thought process had caused me to miss a stop and lose precious time, but I was determined not to leave the continent without my sleeping bag.
So at the next stop I hurdled of the tram, hurrying to the other side of the platform and counting the seconds until another one came going the opposite direction. I jumped on. By the time it dropped my off in St. Kilda it was 9:15 and I was realizing that I probably should have just left it behind as a casualty of travel. But I was already so close, so I ran down Fitzroy Street with my big blue backpack bouncing haphazardly on my back as I clutched my little orange one to my front, laughing along with all of the people who saw me coming and made room for me on the sidewalk.
I burst into reception, grabbed my sleeping bag from the storage rack, yelled something that I'm sure was unintelligible, and hurried back out onto the street. I didn't know if I could run all the way back down Fitzroy Street, since I was already sweating in my fleece jacket and my knees were begging me not to. So I made the decision to go to the closer tram stop, catch the 67 or 64 up to Burke Street where I could hopefully catch the 86 across to the bus terminal and not lose too much time. I would have taken a moment to revel in my rather handy knowledge of the Melbourne tram routes after only two weeks, but I could see a tram coming up the road and I still had to cross the street, so I took off at a knee-friendly waddle towards the crossing. My timing was off, and I was prevented from crossing the street by a series of cars that didn't seem to understand what a hurry I was in (if only they drove on the correct side of the road in Australia I wouldn't have had to cross the street and could have caught the tram, but that's another complaint all together).
When the light finally changed, I could see my tram pulling away. I crossed the street trying to look as dejected as possible, and when I reached the tram stop I turned towards the tram's retreating back end and gave an exasperated sigh that I hoped was visible to somebody on board. I'm not sure why I thought that this was necessary, but I had nothing else to do besides wait for the next tram and I suppose I needed to vent my frustration somehow.
Then a bird shat on my head.
Well, my head and my hand actually. At this point all I could do was laugh, and I was so busy using leaves to try and clean myself up that I was pleasantly surprised to find a tram pulling up beside me. I hopped on and asked a perfect stranger to take a picture of me with my bags and my sleeping bag and the bird poo, because despite being late to the airport, I couldn't help thinking that the whole situation was hopelessly funny.
When I jumped off the 67 at Burke Street, I didn't have to wait long for an 86, which carried me to the bus terminal. I arrived at 10:02, just in time to see the 10:00 shuttle leaving without me. So I bought a ticket, went to the bathroom to deal with the bird poo situation, and nervously sat waiting for the 10:20, which didn't actually leave until 10:30, by which point I was wondering what would happen if I did miss my flight.
When I arrived at the airport just before 11:00, there was a line the likes of which I had never seen winding around the departures area, and I realized I was going to have to beg someone to help me out so I could check in and get through security. But it turned out that the line had nothing to do with Qantas and I was able to check in, simultaneously filling out a customs form and telling the woman behind the counter that no, I wasn't carrying and explosives in my backpack. By 11:05 I was rushing off to security, which was blessedly empty. A guard pointed at my water bottle, which I had forgotten about, and watched with a mixture of awe and disgust as I chugged its contents. I could have just poured it out, but they always give such small cups of water on airplanes and I didn't want to arrive in Hong Kong an more dehydrated than absolutely necessary. Then (and I probably should have seen this coming) for the first time in my life, I was pulled aside for a random security screening. They rifled through my backpack, patted me down, checked me with one of those detector sticks, and then let me go.
I looked at my watch. 11:13. All of that worry and I was 47 minutes early for my flight. When I made my way through the sea of duty-free gifts I arrived at the departures board by my gate, which was wisely telling me to relax.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Things I like about Melbourne
Sushi to go
There's a lot of sushi here, although not quite as much as in Auckland. But here they've turned it into a snack food, which I think is genius and I'm not sure why the US hasn't caught on yet (or maybe it has, but I haven't seen it yet). Every little sushi place here has part of their storefront facing the street, and the sushi lined up in hand rolls so you can see it as you walk by. Instead of cutting the roll up into six pieces and serving it with chopsticks, they just give you the whole roll (for the backpacker friendly price of $2.20) with a little plastic fish full of soy sauce, and you can happily eat it as you continue walking down the street. For those who aren't into raw fish, they've branched out to things like chicken teriaki rolls, which are funny looking but extremely popular apparently.
Trams
What a great public transportation system. Except that when you're in a tram safety zone, which is usally about a two foot strip in the middle of the road with a fence on on one side, where you have to wait until there aren't any cars and make a dash to the sidewalk. It's actually kind of scary.
Indecisive weather gods
They call it four seasons in a day here, and it actually happens. The general advice is to keep a sweater, sunglasses, and an umbrella with you at all times. The sudden changes of weather are particularly fun since I usually spend all day out of the hostel. The fact that it's sunny and beautiful when I walk about the door at 10:00 doesn't mean that it won't be pouring rain at 10:30 when I'm exactly halfway to the city center. Most of the time when it rains I can see a sunny patch of sky not too far away, but that doesn't make me any less wet.
Money
The coins here has kangaroos on them!
There's a lot of sushi here, although not quite as much as in Auckland. But here they've turned it into a snack food, which I think is genius and I'm not sure why the US hasn't caught on yet (or maybe it has, but I haven't seen it yet). Every little sushi place here has part of their storefront facing the street, and the sushi lined up in hand rolls so you can see it as you walk by. Instead of cutting the roll up into six pieces and serving it with chopsticks, they just give you the whole roll (for the backpacker friendly price of $2.20) with a little plastic fish full of soy sauce, and you can happily eat it as you continue walking down the street. For those who aren't into raw fish, they've branched out to things like chicken teriaki rolls, which are funny looking but extremely popular apparently.
Trams
What a great public transportation system. Except that when you're in a tram safety zone, which is usally about a two foot strip in the middle of the road with a fence on on one side, where you have to wait until there aren't any cars and make a dash to the sidewalk. It's actually kind of scary.
Indecisive weather gods
They call it four seasons in a day here, and it actually happens. The general advice is to keep a sweater, sunglasses, and an umbrella with you at all times. The sudden changes of weather are particularly fun since I usually spend all day out of the hostel. The fact that it's sunny and beautiful when I walk about the door at 10:00 doesn't mean that it won't be pouring rain at 10:30 when I'm exactly halfway to the city center. Most of the time when it rains I can see a sunny patch of sky not too far away, but that doesn't make me any less wet.
Money
The coins here has kangaroos on them!
Thursday, June 12, 2008
This might be too much information
I've gotten into a bit of a routine for the last week, which is funny because generally this trip has not been conducive for routine. I eat breakfast at my hostel at around 9:00, then I get ready to go and walk to the city center from 10:00-11:00. It's a long walk, but it's pretty and in the mornings I don't mind. Then I catch the tourist bus at Federation Square, which drops me off at the University of Melbourne around 11:30 or 12:00. It doesn't take long to get tired of interviewing people, since accosting people and making them talk to me isn't that fun, so I'm usually done by around 3:00. Then I head over to the State Library of Victoria (I love libraries, and this might be my second favorite in the world, after the one at St. Paul's). There I usually study German for a little while, send some emails and book stuff for later in the trip. After a while of that I head back to St. Kilda and brave the rowdy world of my hostel. So if you can't tell, I've basically gone half way around the world to lead a very boring life. But luckily for me, there are some breaks in the routine.
Here's the part that might be overshare, so I apologize if this is the kind of thing that I really shouldn't have posted on the internet. Yesterday while I was waiting for the tourist bus to take me to the University, these two girls probably about my age and giggling a little bit came up and stood right by the bus stop. Then they came over to me and asked (this is a direct quote I promise): "Hi, we were just wondering, is there is anything you would like waxed today?"
And I thought asking strangers questions about the environment was awkward.
I was a little surprised by this introduction, so my first attempt at answering them was, "What?"
One of them explained, "We can do whatever you need: legs, bikini, underarms. And it's all free." Then something about their matching outfits clicked and I asked if they were students, and they got all embarrassed about forgetting to introduce themselves and explained that they were at a beauty school up the road and were looking for people to practice on. Well, luckily for them, I hadn't shaved my legs since I left the States, so I was kind of furry, and didn't mind a chance to chat with Australians who aren't students at the University, so I said okay and followed them around the corner to their studio. The actual funny part of the story isn't that I got my legs waxed for free yesterday, which is pretty random to start with. The funny part is that a lot of the girls there hadn't gone out searching for people to wax, they had brought in their friends, and in the case of a few poor souls, their boyfriends.
While I was there, one girl managed to convince her boyfriend to let her wax his stomach, and I don't think I've ever felt so bad for someone. This poor guy was just lying shirtless on the table, clenching a popsicle stick between his teeth in pain, with tears falling silently out of his eyes while pretty much every girl in the place stood round the table watching as he periodically let out suppressed screams while she took all the hair off of his lower abdomen. He must really like this girl because I haven't seen anyone look that miserable in a while.
Here's the part that might be overshare, so I apologize if this is the kind of thing that I really shouldn't have posted on the internet. Yesterday while I was waiting for the tourist bus to take me to the University, these two girls probably about my age and giggling a little bit came up and stood right by the bus stop. Then they came over to me and asked (this is a direct quote I promise): "Hi, we were just wondering, is there is anything you would like waxed today?"
And I thought asking strangers questions about the environment was awkward.
I was a little surprised by this introduction, so my first attempt at answering them was, "What?"
One of them explained, "We can do whatever you need: legs, bikini, underarms. And it's all free." Then something about their matching outfits clicked and I asked if they were students, and they got all embarrassed about forgetting to introduce themselves and explained that they were at a beauty school up the road and were looking for people to practice on. Well, luckily for them, I hadn't shaved my legs since I left the States, so I was kind of furry, and didn't mind a chance to chat with Australians who aren't students at the University, so I said okay and followed them around the corner to their studio. The actual funny part of the story isn't that I got my legs waxed for free yesterday, which is pretty random to start with. The funny part is that a lot of the girls there hadn't gone out searching for people to wax, they had brought in their friends, and in the case of a few poor souls, their boyfriends.
While I was there, one girl managed to convince her boyfriend to let her wax his stomach, and I don't think I've ever felt so bad for someone. This poor guy was just lying shirtless on the table, clenching a popsicle stick between his teeth in pain, with tears falling silently out of his eyes while pretty much every girl in the place stood round the table watching as he periodically let out suppressed screams while she took all the hair off of his lower abdomen. He must really like this girl because I haven't seen anyone look that miserable in a while.
Sorry about the long dry spell on the blog!
So I had some technical difficulties with my blog at my last hostel in Auckland, and since I've been in Melbourne I've just gotten lazy, but I'm back on the ball now so I've put up a whole bunch of posts at once. Sorry about that, but I'm planning to be better about it from here on out.
The essentials
Eating
I love fruit. Maybe it has something to do with being in college and having ramen noodles and bagels far more accessible than anything fresh, but walking into Whole Foods and seeing all those cups of fruit lined up like that is about as good as it gets in my world. I feel almost as strongly about fresh vegetables. So in my version of heaven I get to wander down aisle after aisle of fruits and vegetables and not worry about how long they are going to last in my dorm room (there is also mountain scenery, fantastic weather, and a library of all the books about which I have ever thought, "I'll read that when I have time," but these aspects of heaven aren't really relevant to my story). So it turns out that this produce paradise exists not only in my head, but also at the Queen Victoria Market in Melbourne! It's great. I discovered it on the tourist bus and it made my day, well made my two weeks actually, since that's how long I'm here. They also sell souvenirs and clothes and stuff like that, but I go for the food side. All the vendors are yelling about their prices and I just get to walk around and bask in the limitless options for lunch and dinner.
Sleeping
Doesn't happen around here as much as I would like. My hostel is a lot of fun, but it's not best place for going to bed early, since my window is right above the entrance to the pub and I can generally hear what's going on in there whether I'm interested or not. Plus there's always a lot going on, so It's not difficult to get distracted and wind up going to bed later than I planned.
Running
There's this thing called "The Tan" around one of the parks in Melbourne, which I was told was the best place to go running around here, so that's where I've been going. The Tan is a 4k loop, and I've never once passed someone else who was running not walking on it. I get passed all the time though, on both sides, by intense looking rugby players, much older men, women in their forties and fifties, people with strollers, and once by a girl who wasn't even wearing running shoes. They all run at breakneck speed, it's amazing. The highlight of my day once was after I did The Tan I was jogging back to the hostel and I was even passed by a elderly woman on one of those motorized chairs. People walk quickly too though, so maybe it's just how things are done around here (or maybe I'm just very very slow).
I love fruit. Maybe it has something to do with being in college and having ramen noodles and bagels far more accessible than anything fresh, but walking into Whole Foods and seeing all those cups of fruit lined up like that is about as good as it gets in my world. I feel almost as strongly about fresh vegetables. So in my version of heaven I get to wander down aisle after aisle of fruits and vegetables and not worry about how long they are going to last in my dorm room (there is also mountain scenery, fantastic weather, and a library of all the books about which I have ever thought, "I'll read that when I have time," but these aspects of heaven aren't really relevant to my story). So it turns out that this produce paradise exists not only in my head, but also at the Queen Victoria Market in Melbourne! It's great. I discovered it on the tourist bus and it made my day, well made my two weeks actually, since that's how long I'm here. They also sell souvenirs and clothes and stuff like that, but I go for the food side. All the vendors are yelling about their prices and I just get to walk around and bask in the limitless options for lunch and dinner.
Sleeping
Doesn't happen around here as much as I would like. My hostel is a lot of fun, but it's not best place for going to bed early, since my window is right above the entrance to the pub and I can generally hear what's going on in there whether I'm interested or not. Plus there's always a lot going on, so It's not difficult to get distracted and wind up going to bed later than I planned.
Running
There's this thing called "The Tan" around one of the parks in Melbourne, which I was told was the best place to go running around here, so that's where I've been going. The Tan is a 4k loop, and I've never once passed someone else who was running not walking on it. I get passed all the time though, on both sides, by intense looking rugby players, much older men, women in their forties and fifties, people with strollers, and once by a girl who wasn't even wearing running shoes. They all run at breakneck speed, it's amazing. The highlight of my day once was after I did The Tan I was jogging back to the hostel and I was even passed by a elderly woman on one of those motorized chairs. People walk quickly too though, so maybe it's just how things are done around here (or maybe I'm just very very slow).
I'm upside down!
So I'm not sure why I associate being upside down on the world with Australia and not with New Zealand, but I do, and so I'm officially upside down! G'day, mate. I'm now writing from Melbourne, Australia.
And what a city it is. I arrived here on the 4th of June, at around 7:00 pm local time. By the time I got off the express bus to the city, it was dark and I was tired, but my hostel is actually in one of the suburbs. I'm not a big fan of trying to sort out the public transit system in a foreign city at night by myself after traveling all day, but I didn't want to pay for a taxi so I wandered around for 30 minutes looking for a tram stop with number 96 on it, and when I couldn't find one I went back to the bus building and tracked down someone that could help me. Once he gave me directions to the tram stop and I was stuffed into a little seat with my big backpack, I realized that they make no effort to announce which stop is next or where you are. Luckily some nice Australian ladies agreed to tell me when we got to Fitzroy Street, where I got off and proceeded to wander around for another 10 minutes unable to locate my hostel until I almost
walked into it to ask for directions. You see, my hostel is also a pub. There was no one at reception, but there was a little sign on the door that said, "If no one is at the desk, please go round and ask at the bar." So with my big backpack on my back and my little backpack on my front I walked right into karaoke night at the pub, and no one even blinked. After checking in, taking a shower, and getting settled for bed, my roommate appeared to grab her keys, introduced herself and said I should come down and meet everybody. Honestly, I was tired. What I really wanted was a good book and ten hours of sleep, but I did want to make friends, so I went down anyway. Six hours later when I poured myself into bed after meeting everybody a couple of times over, I decided that this was going to be a lively two weeks.
The next day I got up early and went to tour Melbourne and it was surprisngly lovely. This city has the best tourist setup I can imagine. They have an huge tourist information center right in Federation Square, which tells you anything you want to know. They told me to hop on the free bus that goes around the city, telling all us foreigners about all the tourist attractions and dropping us off and picking us up at all the major points every 20 minutes. Free transportation will put any city on my good side. They also have a free tram, which only goes around the city center and does the same thing as the bus. It's great. I effortlessly got to find my way around Melbourne and put in my tourist duties for the day.
And what a city it is. I arrived here on the 4th of June, at around 7:00 pm local time. By the time I got off the express bus to the city, it was dark and I was tired, but my hostel is actually in one of the suburbs. I'm not a big fan of trying to sort out the public transit system in a foreign city at night by myself after traveling all day, but I didn't want to pay for a taxi so I wandered around for 30 minutes looking for a tram stop with number 96 on it, and when I couldn't find one I went back to the bus building and tracked down someone that could help me. Once he gave me directions to the tram stop and I was stuffed into a little seat with my big backpack, I realized that they make no effort to announce which stop is next or where you are. Luckily some nice Australian ladies agreed to tell me when we got to Fitzroy Street, where I got off and proceeded to wander around for another 10 minutes unable to locate my hostel until I almost
walked into it to ask for directions. You see, my hostel is also a pub. There was no one at reception, but there was a little sign on the door that said, "If no one is at the desk, please go round and ask at the bar." So with my big backpack on my back and my little backpack on my front I walked right into karaoke night at the pub, and no one even blinked. After checking in, taking a shower, and getting settled for bed, my roommate appeared to grab her keys, introduced herself and said I should come down and meet everybody. Honestly, I was tired. What I really wanted was a good book and ten hours of sleep, but I did want to make friends, so I went down anyway. Six hours later when I poured myself into bed after meeting everybody a couple of times over, I decided that this was going to be a lively two weeks.
The next day I got up early and went to tour Melbourne and it was surprisngly lovely. This city has the best tourist setup I can imagine. They have an huge tourist information center right in Federation Square, which tells you anything you want to know. They told me to hop on the free bus that goes around the city, telling all us foreigners about all the tourist attractions and dropping us off and picking us up at all the major points every 20 minutes. Free transportation will put any city on my good side. They also have a free tram, which only goes around the city center and does the same thing as the bus. It's great. I effortlessly got to find my way around Melbourne and put in my tourist duties for the day.New Zealand wrap-up
The thing about backpacking is that it's nothing like being at home. I don't really know anyone, I'm always a little bit lost, and I do all sorts of things that I don't do back in America. But in my last couple of days in Auckland, I've noticed that I don't really feel like a tourist anymore, a feeling which was encouraged by a couple of events that told me that if I stay any longer I will in fact become a permanent resident.
Event #1: having to avoid someone in the street
Do you remember Matt from my first hostel? The one that yelled at his ex-girlfriend from the roof? He wasn't my favorite person I had met on the trip, and when I hopped off the bus from Rotorua, he was walking right up the street in the direction I needed to go. With some quick thinking I abruptly turned down a side street until he had passed, which made me feel kind of stupid, but also relieved that I wouldn't have to walk with him. But seeing someone I knew in a random part of a foreign city with a million people in it was the first sign that I was no longer completely out of my element.
Event #2: awkward conversation about work at the grocery store
The next night, as I browsed the noodle section, I ran into a girl I new from my second hostel. We had spoken a few times, so I asked her how the job hunt was going, and she asked me how the project was going, and then we both took our baskets separate ways when we ran out of things to say. This also doesn't happen when you're a foreigner somewhere.
Even #3: getting asked directions and actually knowing the way
Confused tourist: "Excuse me, I'm trying to catch a bus. I'm looking for the transport center. Is it up this way?"
Me: "Are you leaving from Britomart?"
Relieved tourist: "Yes, that's it."
Me: "It's ten minutes down Queen St. the other way. It's on the right just before the water. If you get to the ferry building you've gone too far."
Grateful tourist: "Thanks!"
So I'm not really a tourist here anymore. It's time to move on. But being comfortable in this city doesn't mean I haven't spent most of my three weeks here outside my comfort zone. Here's a list of things I did for the first time while in New Zealand:
-made fried rice
-jumped off a bridge
-went to a movie by myself
-approached 50 people I don't know and made them talk to me
-rolled down a hill in a ball
-climbed a volcano cone
-been told I look Japanese (for an explanation of this one, see below)
-legally bought something at a liquor store
-seen a kiwi
-read "Hamlet"
So there was this girl, Akiko, who like most of the Japanese people in our hostel had come to work in New Zealand for a year to learn English. She would come to our hostel every night to hang out and practice speaking. So one night we were all sitting around and we started asking all the Japanese people to teach us some Japanese. After a few minutes of trading vocabulary in our respective languages, Akiko said to me, "You look Japanese," to which my German roommate replied, "Yeah she gets that all the time. It's the hair." After a minute of going over all of my very non-Japanese features and rehashing the conversation, we discovered the problem. It turns out that she meant to say that I sounded Japanese, since I had repeated something well. But for the rest of my time there people would periodically bring up how Japanese I look.
Anyway, despite all the fun I had in new Zealand, it is clearly time to move on. So, Australia here I come!
Event #1: having to avoid someone in the street
Do you remember Matt from my first hostel? The one that yelled at his ex-girlfriend from the roof? He wasn't my favorite person I had met on the trip, and when I hopped off the bus from Rotorua, he was walking right up the street in the direction I needed to go. With some quick thinking I abruptly turned down a side street until he had passed, which made me feel kind of stupid, but also relieved that I wouldn't have to walk with him. But seeing someone I knew in a random part of a foreign city with a million people in it was the first sign that I was no longer completely out of my element.
Event #2: awkward conversation about work at the grocery store
The next night, as I browsed the noodle section, I ran into a girl I new from my second hostel. We had spoken a few times, so I asked her how the job hunt was going, and she asked me how the project was going, and then we both took our baskets separate ways when we ran out of things to say. This also doesn't happen when you're a foreigner somewhere.
Even #3: getting asked directions and actually knowing the way
Confused tourist: "Excuse me, I'm trying to catch a bus. I'm looking for the transport center. Is it up this way?"
Me: "Are you leaving from Britomart?"
Relieved tourist: "Yes, that's it."
Me: "It's ten minutes down Queen St. the other way. It's on the right just before the water. If you get to the ferry building you've gone too far."
Grateful tourist: "Thanks!"
So I'm not really a tourist here anymore. It's time to move on. But being comfortable in this city doesn't mean I haven't spent most of my three weeks here outside my comfort zone. Here's a list of things I did for the first time while in New Zealand:
-made fried rice
-jumped off a bridge
-went to a movie by myself
-approached 50 people I don't know and made them talk to me
-rolled down a hill in a ball
-climbed a volcano cone
-been told I look Japanese (for an explanation of this one, see below)
-legally bought something at a liquor store
-seen a kiwi
-read "Hamlet"
So there was this girl, Akiko, who like most of the Japanese people in our hostel had come to work in New Zealand for a year to learn English. She would come to our hostel every night to hang out and practice speaking. So one night we were all sitting around and we started asking all the Japanese people to teach us some Japanese. After a few minutes of trading vocabulary in our respective languages, Akiko said to me, "You look Japanese," to which my German roommate replied, "Yeah she gets that all the time. It's the hair." After a minute of going over all of my very non-Japanese features and rehashing the conversation, we discovered the problem. It turns out that she meant to say that I sounded Japanese, since I had repeated something well. But for the rest of my time there people would periodically bring up how Japanese I look.
Anyway, despite all the fun I had in new Zealand, it is clearly time to move on. So, Australia here I come!
Now I can say I've been to New Zealand
As I left off in my last post, oh so long ago, Courtney and I went to Rotorua on my last weekend in New Zealand. Apparently, Rotorua is the tourist city on the north island. The entire place smells like sulfur, and it's famous for it's hot springs, which are basically just pools of water that smell bad and steam all the time, but they were still pretty great to see.
Sheep!
But enough of the hot springs, I want to talk about sheep. They're everywhere! I can't believe I went over two weeks in New Zealand without ever seeing one. What are the odds? I think the sheep to people ratio is like 10:1, but obviously Auckland isn't the sheep capital of the country. The four hour bus ride from Auckland to Rotorua was enough to prove to me that sheep really have taken over the country. And, once we were there, we went to see the Agrodome, which is the main tourist attraction in Rotorua. They do free shows and stuff, so if you go you can learn a lot about sheep, maybe even too much. If you're not interested, I understand. Feel free to skim this next little bit.
We saw a dog herd three lambs (so cute, but obviously terrified) through an obstacle course and then into this tiny pen at the end.
It was amazing how well trained and responsive the dog was to the guy who was calling out orders. I'm sure that guy has an official name but we came a little late so I missed the introduction. Anyway, when he had finally finished the obstacle course he called out, "Good boy. Go get yourself a drink." So the dog ran over to his water bowl, got a drink and then trotted happily out of the arena. I think that Rocky and Fergis (Fergus? Sorry, I'm not sure) could both be pretty good at sheep herding. Yeah right.We also learned all about how they shear sheep, and saw a sheep shearing museum, which was basically a shrine to this one guy who was the best sheep shearer of his day. He won all of the sheep shearing competitions and exposed the world to the art of sheep shearing. That's right, I said sheep shearing competitions. They still exist. I forget the exact numbers but I'm pretty sure the best of the best can sheer an entire adult sheep in about a minute. Which I think is impressive.
If that's not enough for you, we also saw how they card the wool in this HUGE machine that they have been using since 1903 or something like that. It basically gets rolled though these big rollers a bunch of times until it's all going in the same direction, and then you can feed it through this cute little contraption at the end and turn it into yarn yourself. Well, I couldn't, but the woman showing us around could. But after a while there's only so much you can learn about sheep, so eventually Courtney and I wandered off to other attractions.
Like zorbing!
If I'm honest this is pretty much the whole reason I wanted to come to Rotorua. Here's how it
works: they take a big rubbery plastic ball and but it inside an even bigger rubbery plastic ball so that it's all cushiony in the small one. Then they throw some (mercifully warm) water into the small ball. Then Courtney and I get inside with with the water, and we rock forward until the whole contraption rolls down a hill. There's a lot of laughing and yelling and everyone gets very wet. It's always written up with the adventure sports, but it's not really that adventurous, just kind of ridiculous.Kiwis!
And speaking of ridiculous, I also got to see the famous kiwis. Having met the people and eaten the fruit, this was the third point of the kiwi triangle for me. I don't know the actual reason that the fruit and the bird have the same name, but I have a hypothesis: they look exactly alike! If you slap a long bill and feet onto the fruit and tell it to make funny noises and jump around like a little kid that excited about something, you get the bird. They are basically just brown fur balls, but they're pretty cute.
Courtney and I toured a hatchery for an hour, while we were told about the rise and fall of the kiwi birds and what they are doing to help. This is another information overload so you can skim this part too if you want. It turns out that there are not native predators in New Zealand, which is why these silly little birds were able to flourish. But when other animals were introduced their numbers declined. Now the hatchery collects eggs and protects the chicks until they are about 1 kg, which is a weight at which they will be more likely to survive since in the wild most of them die when they're young. At this point they release the birds into the wild. There weren't any chicks there when we were there because the season is over, but all of the pictures were really cute. We weren't allowed to take pictures of the ones they have in captivity since they are nocturnal and the flash scares them, so I don't have any of my own, but I still got to see them which is enough for me.
After this busy day, Courtney and I baked cake because our hostel had an oven, which most don't, and made everybody jealous with smell. Then the next morning we went our separate ways. I was sad to lose my travel buddy, but she was going to Wellington for her project (and to sky dive!) and I was going back to Auckland to get organized for a couple of days before I went to Australia.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Shameless Tourism
Two Saturdays ago, I met up with Courtney Patterson (she's a friend from UNC for anyone who doesn't know her) who also happens to be traveling in New Zealand this summer. As much fun as it has been to get to know strangers, it was also fun to have a travel buddy to do all sorts touristy things with.Waiheke
On that Wednesday we went to Waiheke, which is an island about 45 minutes out of Auckland by ferry. Luckily for us, the weather was gorgeous, so we spend most of the day in Oneroa, a little beach town near the wharf where the ferry dropped us off. We mostly just walked on the beach and took fun pictures, but we also spent some time walking around the town and eating a long lunch in the sun.
One thing I've noticed about Kiwis (the people, not the birds or the fruit) is that they are much more likely to be unnecessarily nice to strangers and obvious foreigners. While Courtney and I sat at a bus stop looking at out map, this friendly guy walking by stopped to ask us if we knew where we were going (in a completely non-creepy kind of way). He was older, and wore worn pants, a long sleeved button up shirt, a vest that looked straight out of Jane Austin book, and a completely ridiculous hat. It was this tall purpleish velvet affair with a feather and some other decorations I couldn't see because we were sitting down and he was standing up, and the rim of the hat hid them from me. When we told him we were just going to wander around, he recommended a walk down Oneroa Beach, and then told us that there was a story-telling festival going on that weekend put on by a local shop owner who had just been to Japan and other places collec
ting fairy tails from all around the world, if we happened to be interested in coming back to Waiheke over the weekend. With that he said, "I'm a local artist and I wear funny hats. It was lovely to meet you girls," and ambled away up the hill. With that being the most memorable moment of the trip, there isn't much more for to say about Waiheke other than for me to put some of the pictures we took there, which will happen as soon as I've sorted out how to do pictures from these internet cafe computers.Dinner with the Palmers
One of the professors Courtney interviewed, Dr. Palmer, very nicely invited her over to dinner at his house (and since she had mentioned that she was with a friend from school, I was invited as well). So After we got back from Waiheke we showered and changed and Dr. Palmer picked us up at our hostel for dinner. His wife had made us a New Zealand meal of lamb (what else?) and vegetables, with a desert called pavlova, which to be honest sounds kind of Russian. It turns out that the Palmers have traveled everywhere (well maybe not everywhere but it sure felt that way), so Courtney and I spent the evening listening to them talk about all the places they'd been and things we should do while we are young and easily able to travel about. If I wasn't filled with wanderlust, that dinner certainly would have gotten me interested.
Over the weekend Courtney and I went to Rotorua before she went off to Wellington and I head over to Australia. We finally saw all the sheep and cows we'd been promised were all over the New Zealand countryside, and we even got to spend an hour in a Kiwi hatchery! We also zorbed, which is basically rolling down a hill in giant ball filled with water, but I'll have to write about all of this later because I've got to go catch a bus to the airport and make my way to Melbourne!
Sunday, June 1, 2008
IMPORTANT UPDATE!
With Courtney's help, I finished my bag of rice AND my box of oatmeal! I've had rice with almost every non-breakfast meal for the past 19 days and oatmeal every single morning, and I'm sick of them both. So if you're not in a public place and you need an excuse to celebrate, feel free to do a little victory dance because I'm doing the same thing on the other side of the world.
FivefourthreetwooneBUNGY!
In case the title didn't give it away, I went bungy jumping! Sorry, Mom. I always swore that I didn't have the thrill-seeking gene, not even a little bit. And that I would never be crazy enough to go bungy jumping or skydiving or anything like that. But something about the atmosphere around here is intoxicating, and I started to feel like I couldn't come all the way to New Zealand, home of extreme sports, and not participate. So last Tuesday I went on the internet, and two days later I was in a van with some other crazy people driving over to Auckland Harbor Bridge.
We stopped at a little hut just at the entrance to the bridge, where they strapped me into a harness, had me sign a paper that said they weren't responsible for anything that might happen, and then sent us all on a walk up the bridge. I think that the walk to the little jump pod is their way of weeding out anyone that really can't handle heights or has some other debilitating fear. The pod is located underneath the bridge kind of in the middle of it, and you get there by walking on this little metal walkway that is also underneath the bridge. So as you are walking from land to the pod you have a nice view of the water getting farther and farther away through the metal pathway beneath your feet. After I had taken those few minutes to realize exactly how high I was getting and consider how crazy I must be to voluntarily jump off of this bridge, we finally reached the pod.
After a couple of hints about what to do, they started calling us up to be attached to the bungy cord. Only one person goes at a time, but it only takes about a minute for someone to jump and then be hauled back up. They were calling us in the order that we had signed up, so I was last and I got to see everyone go before me. From inside the pod, you can see people jump and you can see them come back, but you can't actually see them while they are in the air. Not that it would have made a difference.
We stopped at a little hut just at the entrance to the bridge, where they strapped me into a harness, had me sign a paper that said they weren't responsible for anything that might happen, and then sent us all on a walk up the bridge. I think that the walk to the little jump pod is their way of weeding out anyone that really can't handle heights or has some other debilitating fear. The pod is located underneath the bridge kind of in the middle of it, and you get there by walking on this little metal walkway that is also underneath the bridge. So as you are walking from land to the pod you have a nice view of the water getting farther and farther away through the metal pathway beneath your feet. After I had taken those few minutes to realize exactly how high I was getting and consider how crazy I must be to voluntarily jump off of this bridge, we finally reached the pod.
After a couple of hints about what to do, they started calling us up to be attached to the bungy cord. Only one person goes at a time, but it only takes about a minute for someone to jump and then be hauled back up. They were calling us in the order that we had signed up, so I was last and I got to see everyone go before me. From inside the pod, you can see people jump and you can see them come back, but you can't actually see them while they are in the air. Not that it would have made a difference.Finally they called my name, so I went and at in the chair while a friendly guy strapped my feet together and then to the cord. When he asked, "Do you want to do a water touch?" I said sure, so he attached a little bit of additional weight to my feet. He explained that I it's better to dive than to jump since you end up upsidedown anyway, and then had me hop off the chair and start waddling (remember, my feet were strapped together) onto the platform.
By this point, I could see straight down to the water, and in the 15 seconds it took me to get from the chair to the edge of the platform I started to have second thoughts. But I didn't have time to think too hard about it, because after that everything kind of happened at once. They try not to give you too much time once you're up there, so instead of counting down one number per second like we do at New Year's they get it all done in one quick moment. So my toes reached the end of the platform, I hear, "OkayhereyougofivefourthreetwooneBUNGY!" and then I just did it.
Then there was this one moment. My legs were tensed, but I hadn't quite jumped yet. I was leaning forward.
I felt my weight shift from over the platform to over the water. It was just past the point of no return. And what was I thinking at this particular moment? "Wait! Wait! Please wait! I've changed my mind!" But of course all I could articulate was, "Aaahhh!" as I dove. For about one second I was just amazed that I had actually jumped. I had been warned not to shut my eyes because it all happens so fast, but it didn't really matter because everything was moving so fast that all I could see was a blur of sails around me and the water rushing up to meet me way to quickly. All this time, all I could think was, "Holy shit!" I'm sure there are less rude and more articulate things I could have been thinking like, "This is crazy," or "I'm going to die," or "I wish I had stayed in the hostel," but as I flailed my arms and screamed bloody murder, "Holy shit!" was the best my brain could do. Then right before I hit the water I remembered what they guy had told me about putting my chin to my chest and reaching out my arms, so I did that and then was plunged, head to ankles, into the harbor (so much for the water touch).The first bounce is almost as terrifying as the jump, but then they got gentler and I found myself rising back up to the pod all I could do was laugh. Despite being soaking wet and cold and shaking from the adrenaline, I had this huge goofy smile on my face as they unclipped me and I tottered over to sit down while other people did their second jumps. After all that, the jump had only taken about 10 seconds, but it was completely worth it.
Some fun facts about the Auckland bridge bungy jump:
It is 40 meters or about 131 feet.
The cord is basically made up of lots of little strands of elastic like the ones found in hair bands.
The cord is only 9 meters long, and it stretches to about 4 times its length when you jump.
But no worries, it can stretch to about 15 times its length before it begins to break.
They gave me a free tee shirt.
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