New Zealand: Going to a First World Country in the Southern Hemisphere Without a Plan

In the darkness of the early morning, the lights of Auckland came into view as the plane descended. I have no idea what I am going to do when I get off this plane.

The plane lands. Just keep breathing. We disembark. Keep walking. Follow the signs. This is easy.

At Customs, I recognize a girl from the airport in Hawaii. Should I talk to her? I remembered a conversation from a few weeks ago: “Just ask people where you should go. Everyone will help you.”

“Hey,” I said to the girl, “Are you from here?”

I find out that she had been studying in Hawaii and has just finished school so she was moving home.

“Well, I just decided to come here by myself and I have no plan. Where should I go?” I ask.

“Why would you do that?”

“I guess I wanted to see if I could.”

“I don’t know what to tell you," she says, "but good luck.”

The first place mentioned in the Lonely Planet Guide, is the City Centre. Without actually reading about it, and only seeing the name, I decided to ask the woman working at the Visitor Information how I could get there. She sold me a bus ticket and gave me a map.

On the bus from the airport and going into the City Centre, the sun was just rising. 

The sun is rising in New Zealand. 

I did it! I’m in New Zealand! Look at me!

What now? I still don't know what I'll do. Find a coffee shop and wait for the Visitor Centre to open, I guess.

So, I sit there. Drinking coffee and listening to the harmonic tones of the accents that are different than my own.

I discover that the backpackers (hostels are called "backpackers" here) are located on a street a couple blocks away so I go over there, walking past the Sky Tower, reserving a bed, and leaving my pack.

I spend the afternoon walking around the city: through parks, past churches, and exploring the art museum (which offers free tours and is awesome!).

Sky Tower in Auckland

Early the following morning, I found myself on a shuttle. I didn’t even know where this shuttle was taking me other than the general direction of north. One foot in front of the other.

The prior afternoon, I had wandered into a little shop with a sign that read, “Let us help you plan your trip!”

I really didn’t want any set itinerary, so I’m not sure how I was persuaded into buying this. I think the guy at the desk made it sound like it was just a bus pass to get me around: “It’s an on again, off again bus pass and it’ll bring you to places off the beaten path. And you’ll make friends!”

That sounds good enough. I'm in.

“But, you’ll have to catch the shuttle early tomorrow morning,” he says.

So, here I was. On a shuttle with about eight other people who all looked significantly younger than me.

View of the Auckland Skyline as we passed in the shuttle.

Watching the country roll past.

A couple hours into the drive, we stop for coffee. Standing in the little café, I ask the “driver”, Philip, what I could eat.

“What is a good, local New Zealand-type breakfast food?”

“The pie. But you can get pie hee-ya, or you can get pie they-ya, since we’re going to pie-hee-ya.”

I have no idea what he is talking about.

“So, I should get the pie?”

“Well, you can get pie they-ya, or pie-hee-ya”

Kiwis say “here”, like “hee-ya”, and he was trying to make a joke to this American that does not realize the shuttle was going to a place called Paihia (pie-hee-ya).

He thought he was very clever and I had no idea what was going on.

On the way, we stop at a big, 800-year-old tree. I get my picture with it. I liked that just over a week ago, I was hugging a giant redwood in California.

An 800-year-old tree.

The Redwoods are bigger.

At another café, Philip sits down to talk with me. After a bit of small talk, he asked what my plans were for the night.

“Plans? I don’t even know where we’re going right now.”

“Do you want to come to a real Kiwi party?”

“Yes!” (Have I mentioned that I’m a “yes” person?)

And this is how I found myself, on the second day in a country where I didn’t know a soul, where I didn’t have a plan, just about as far from home as I could get, walking through the "bush" with a stranger who I came into my life to show me the way.

I knew this would happen. It always does.

During the walk, which took a few hours, Philip taught me about the trees, plants, and birds. We talked about traveling, synchronicities, and life. We walked through mangroves, over bridges, and to a waterfall on our way to his friend’s house for the “real Kiwi party”.

Philip used to live in Paihia and we were going to his friend's 40th birthday party.

New Zealand Mangroves!

Some waterfall.

A swing at the party.

The Kiwis welcomed me into their home for food and drinks; they were fisherman! They cooked crawfish, which were about the size of lobsters. I was told they use them for bait and I think a teenage boy thought it was embarrassing how delicious I found it to be! But everyone else seemed to enjoy them as well!

And I got to try local oysters! They didn’t serve them with horseradish, but they were still delicious. Local, New Zealand oysters! (New food is one of my favorite things about traveling!)

They were all so welcoming and I never felt like a stranger. I think I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

I think I’m going to be okay hee-ya.

View from the party as the sun was setting.

Kiwi food!

Crawfish.

My plate of new food to try!

New friends for the night.

View for the evening. 

Tribute to an Inspirational Woman

Six years ago today, my grandmother died.

She was and is my inspiration and I never even told her.

I’ve been choreographing this post in my head for several days now. I’ve been sitting in front of my dumb computer for hours typing and deleting. Typing. Deleting. Retyping.

I want to get this right. I need to capture all of the things that made her wonderful. I want you to feel it with me.

I would listen to her in awe and wonder, “How did you possibly have time for all of these adventures in your life?”

Because of her, I knew I needed to live a life full of as many stories as possible; stories worth telling my own pretend, grandchildren.

In 1995, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and, with my grandfather, came from North Carolina to live with us to receive better treatment in Philadelphia.

I was so excited that they were going to be around.

The thing is, she asked me questions. The questions weren’t difficult, but they made me think. She was engaged. She encouraged conversations.

I remember sitting outside on a bench one day while we waited for my mother to register for nursing classes at the community college. She asked me, “Who is your favorite teacher ever and why?”

I thought about it and decided that the teacher I had that school year, for fifth grade, was my favorite. I don’t remember the reasons I gave her. She told me that her favorite was her fifth grade teacher too. I think her name was Ms. Brown. I don’t remember the reasons she gave to back up her answer, but I remember thinking her teacher sounded wonderful by the way she described her even if I can’t remember any of the details. I remember the way her descriptions made me feel and I wanted to experience life through the same kind of eyes.

She seemed to appreciate my company and liked having me around - which goes a long way for a kid. She seemed interested in the things I thought about. She made me feel like I mattered.

Sometimes she would take me to a farmer’s market to pick out fruit, especially if I had never tried it before. She taught me to be interested in trying new food. She taught me to love food.

She was interested in other cultures, especially Native Americans.

She was an only child. She had seven children. 

She taught me how to make whipped cream and shortcake from scratch. She taught me how to prepare fruit so we could keep it in the freezer to enjoy in the winter.

She taught me how to do my laundry.

When the moon was full, she’d bring me to the beach to watch it rise over the ocean.

Sometimes, she would bring me to the ferry just to watch people miss the boat! I’m not even kidding! This was one of our activities! I don’t remember her asking, but I bet she encouraged conversations like, “Where do you think they’re trying to go?”, “I hope they don’t have an emergency. Wouldn’t that be terrible?”, or "Why do you think they left a couple minutes late?"

When I decided I wanted to be an astronomer, she brought me outside to look at the stars.

When I decided I wanted to be a meteorologist, she took me out to watch storms.

When I decided I wanted to be a journalist, I asked her for an interview. Rather than telling me about her own life, she responded by pretending to be an overworked, chain-smoking, child circus star with a funny accent!

Another time she emerged from the bathroom with balloons in her shirt and said she was Dolly Parton!

  

Sometimes, she'd start snowball or whipped cream fights in the house. And anytime we had cake, she’d always attack someone with it! No one was safe - she’d go after guests! Nowhere was safe - she’d go after you in the bathroom!

When she began her cancer treatments, she took the cotton from a pill bottle and stuck it to her face and hair. She came out of the bathroom writhing about the side effects of the medication.

Side effects from medication.

We laughed a lot. She was really funny.

After dinner on holidays, we’d always play board games.

She’d tell me stories about how she met my grandfather: when they were teenagers on a public bus in Philadelphia on a hot, summer day. She said he ran off the bus to get her.

She told me about another time when she was terrified on a small boat at night by the sounds of drum fish in the water around her. She'd make the sounds of the fish: "Bum bum bum bum bum." 

She told me about the time she saw the Northern Lights when she lived in Upstate New York.

She told me about the time when she was camping with her friends and a can of beans exploded on the fire. She said shards of the can were found sticking in a nearby tree but, luckily, no one got hurt.

She told me about the time when she was walking outside in the freezing cold and her nostrils froze together.

She told me about the time she got salmonella, so she wouldn’t let me eat raw cookie dough.

She told me about how they used to live on a farm; about the time that they saved two young cows from being slaughtered; about the time when they slaughtered their chickens for dinner.

She made the best banana cream pie.

She told me why I should never eat veal.

During the summer of 2006, she was in the hospital for something I can't remember. She was sure she was dying and she was scared. I was visiting her when the doctor came in and asked her what was wrong. She said, "I'm dying." And the doctor responded, unsympathetically, "We're all dying." I don't think she thought that was funny, but she didn't die that time. 

She told me how much her heart hurt when her pets died.

She told me about how her father died on Christmas.

I watched her cry when my other grandmother died. They were friends.

I watched her cry when my dad had his heart attack and we didn’t know if he was going to be okay.

I saw her crying when it was my fault. I told her I was sorry, but I felt awkward apologizing because I was a kid. I really meant the apology, but I always wanted to redo it. I was young, I don't think it could have seemed sincere.

My heart aches just thinking that I upset her. I always meant to apologize again for it. For years, I meant to bring it up. I never did. I have to live with that.

When I was 22, I lived down the street from her for the summer. I’d often spend evenings at her house and she would feed me dinner.

This one night, she insisted on walking me home to be safe. It was only about three blocks so we compromised that she would bring me halfway. Here is this 80-something lady walking a young, 20-something home because she was worried about me.

On the walk, I remember how happy she was. She said it was a beautiful night and she was looking at the sky, smiling. When we got to the halfway mark, she stopped and I continued on. I looked back and she was still standing there, gazing up at the sky. I feel like I could see her smiling and appreciating the moment.

She reminds me to slow down and look around.

I saw her about two months before she passed away in September 2009. She was standing in her kitchen making coffee when I walked into her house. She was swollen from the medication. The cancer had returned.

She looked like her bones were causing excruciating pain and it made me hurt for her.

I told her about my most recent visit to Switzerland. She loved to hear about it. I told her that I was living in the mountains. She loved the mountains. I told her that I was growing an herb garden in a sunny window.

I told her that I was sad because I felt isolated in the mountains. She told me that having an herb garden sounded really nice and, whether she meant it or not, this is how she reminded me to just appreciate the adventure of the life I was living. 

This is how she reminds me to see the beautiful things, collect stories, and get out of my head.

She taught me to see the details in moments. She taught me to be interested in what other people have to say.

She taught me to live.

Six years ago today, when my mother called to tell me she was gone, I felt a part of the world come crashing down. I was in Colorado at the time, so I boarded a plane to New Jersey to be with my family the following morning.

It was the day after my grandfather’s birthday. She had waited.

I want you to know about her because she is my inspiration for this: my traveling and adventures. 

I need to live a life full of stories worth talking about, like she did. I often find myself pushing boundaries and comfort zones, because I need to see what will happen. Maybe I'll learn something new and hopefully not die trying. At least not yet.

She taught me that happiness can exist by looking at life like a quest to collect stories worth telling - even if she never said it.

I wish I could tell her about my adventures now. I hope I’m making her proud. I wish I had written this while she was still alive so she could know how much she meant to me.

March 2009

My mother and grandmother visiting me at work - on a boat. June 2007.

Trying some of the beer she helped brew. 1995 or 1996.

My graduation from Rutgers University. May 2008.

Frances "Dolly" King
September 6, 1925 - November 16, 2011

I hope that I can pass on a fraction of the passion for life that she has instilled in me. My pretend children and grandchildren will never know her, but I hope that her fire which exists in me, will continue on in the world for many generations to come.

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On a final note:

If you knew her, I think it would be really, really nice if you wanted to share some of your favorite memories of her in the comments below. And if you didn’t know her, maybe you want to share some of your favorite memories of someone that has deeply inspired you.

Stopover on Kauai

Arriving in Hawaii.

It had been almost nine years since I had seen Eric and I expected him to look exactly the same. He pulled up to the arrivals gate where I was waiting for him. As soon as I saw him, that huge smile, just the way I remembered it, spread across his face and it was like no time had passed at all.

Eric and I met freshman year of college when he sat behind me in English 101 and started telling me pirate jokes. He was intense, funny, and just enough crazy that we quickly became friends. He left the beginning of sophomore year to study in Hawaii for "one semester" and he was supposed to come back for the spring, but then keep delaying his return... And now here we are, 12 years or so later, and he is still there.

Over the years, our relationship often consisted of late-night phone conversations when I've either been drinking or suffering from insomnia. I really, really appreciate having a friend like him. He is always ready to have intense conversations about anything. He is by far one of the most genuine and passionate people that I have ever met.

Just like the last time I visited him on the Big Island in 2006, he was ready to provide me with an experience of Kauai the way most people will never have a chance to see it. 

He throws a trail book at me and tells me to navigate. While he drove, I attempted to follow the directions, which went something like: "Once the road ends, you'll drive though a couple of rivers, make a left at some tree with branches, another left at one of the forks" and so on. And of course there was no map.

There had been some heavy rains over the past few days and eventually we got to a very large puddle. Eric decided to walk in to determine how deep it was.

So, we aren't going to make it any farther on this road, but that's okay. He takes me to another trail that is more accessible. Luckily, the entire island is full of beauty.

Eric and his truck with our adventure awaiting in the background.

View from our hike just after I have arrived to the island.

#Selfie

Over the next few days, if Eric is working, he lets me drive his truck around to explore. If he is not working, he takes me on adventures.

View of the sunset from Eric's backyard.

During a hurricane in 1992, chickens got loose and now represent an ecological nuisance on the island.

I found this while exploring on my own one day.

Bamboo forest canopy.

On one of our hikes, Eric made me cross this waterfall. The rocks were really slippery, but we survived.

Another friend of mine, Pete Kartsounes, who had been traveling around the world for something like two years happened to be in Kauai at the same time as me. We met up to talk about where we had been and where we were going - life.

When I first met Pete in 2008, he was preparing to hike the 500 miles of the Colorado Trail to raise money for children with cancer. I remember meeting with him for breakfast in Boulder just after he returned from the hike and I wanted to know if he found the secret to life while hiking. I don't know that he gave me an answer, since I don't remember one, so I'm guessing he hadn't yet. I'm sure he is always getting closer though.

The more I travel, talk to people, move, experience, and leave my comfort zone, the more I'm beginning to wonder if maybe the secret to life is to just always be seeking and striving to be the best person you can be. Do you know what I mean? Just don't stop trying and don't stop growing. Ever. Don't ever think that you are better than anyone or know more. Be honest. Be thoughtful, patient, and kind. Be selfless and ask questions. There is always more to know and I think that the more we seek, the better off we all are. Say "yes", but don't be afraid to say "no" either.

But, what do I know, right? This is only my first time here.

This is Pete.
He is a musician and you should check out his music.

Pete contemplates the ocean.

A crowd of people had gathered here and we thought someone fell in.

But then we saw this sea turtle instead! The Hawaiian word for turtle is honu.

The following pictures are just from other places around Kauai during my visit.

On my last, full day on Kauai, Eric took me hiking. I don't remember the name of the place, except that he called it, "The Grand Canyon of Hawaii."

When we were in the parking lot, before beginning this hike, we overheard the couple in the car next to us talking about Portland. Eric knows how I feel about Oregon, so he made friends with them and the four of us hiked together for the day. They were really nice and when we completed the hike, we exchanged numbers so that I can dog-sit for them if I do end up there! 

For the last night in Kauai, Eric took me to this beautiful beach on the west coast to camp. We stopped on the side of the road to fill his truck with firewood. 

The view from our "camp site".

The small blob of color on the bottom corner is my friend, even if he just looks like a pile of towels.

While Eric played around on the beach, I stood by the shoreline to capture every moment of the sunset. Here are some of the pictures of the sun setting on the Pacific Ocean from the west coast of Kauai: 

The next afternoon, Eric drove me to the airport. We hugged goodbye. Then I walked into the airport full of excitement and fear. My next stop would be Auckland, New Zealand. I did not know anyone in there and I had absolutely no idea what I was going to do when the plane landed, other than put one foot in front of the other and keep breathing.

A rainbow bids me farewell and good luck before I begin my next adventure: New Zealand.

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If you have the time, I recommend watching this interview with Eric regarding the controversy surrounding the Thirty Meter Telescope project on the sacred volcano Mauna Kea. He is very passionate about this subject matter.