Alone Again

Not in a bad way though.  The students and my supervisor have all gone home so I'm here at the resort with no one else I know.  They are probably on the plane right now about to take off.  I am a lone traveler again for the first time in about 3 years but it will last for less than 12 hours, two of which have already gone by.  It's enough that I get just a little taste of it but not enough that I feel like I did a few years ago traveling the world alone for the better part of a year.  I think once I'm packed up and get kicked out of this room (checkout is in 45 minutes), I'll explore around a little bit and maybe go check out the research station one more time and talk to some of the students there.  Who knows.  I'll enjoy what time I have here alone and I'll enjoy even more the time that I have with Christina when she arrives.  What a wonderful vacation ahead of us!

Diving Symposium

Golden Gate Bridge

 This will be short because it's well after 1am and I have to be at work by 8:30 tomorrow.

I spent last week in Monterey, California at a symposium for the American Academy of Underwater Sciences (AAUS).  They are the organization that sets the standards for scientific diving.  It was interesting to see my first annual AAUS symposium and to see coastal central California.  It really was beautiful out there even though the pictures might not entirely show it.

Steep Streets of San Francisco

Kelp on the Beach!

The symposium was successful in the sense that I was able to see the other Diving Safety Officers (DSOs) from other universities.  The chance to network was very helpful because I now have faces to put with names and diving programs.  It might take a few years to really get it but I'll eventually get to the point where I personally know the DSOs from the universities that we are getting some students from as well as to where we're sending some divers once they finish at UM.

Monterey, California

I learned while there how special our program is.  In talking to people from other programs, it made me have an even greater appreciation for ours.  Our gear is top of the line, we have a big pool, year-round diving that is easily accessible, 2 full-time motivated dive officers, extensive courses, the list goes on.  My opinion of our program being one of the best is now much more based on actual experience instead of bias.

I have already begun working on a presentation for the next symposium in Curacao.  It outlines our training highlighting specifically some of our unique and cutting-edge techniques.  I am proud of the scientific diving program I work for and I am extraordinarily thankful for being able to be a part of it.  There is often a feeling of frustration when trying to explain my job to people because there is only a small fraction of people who actually understand what I do and to everyone else who doesn't quite understand, my job description doesn't quite describe what I do.  It's a frustration that is largely unnecessary since others' impressions of what I do don't matter but I still feel it from time to time.  Maybe I'm just developing an ego because I do honestly think that our program is better than most others and I believe from the bottom of my heart that my opinion is virtually unbiased

Is it really a bad thing to be proud of my work and to believe that we are doing the best we can do in the diving program?  My feelings are internalized and I'm not going around telling other DSOs that I think our program is better but is it really a bad thing just to think it?  I sure hope not because it's too late and I can't help it.  I think I'm overall personally humble and modest but apparently part of me wants to throw modesty to the wind and have more recognition and respect in the professional world.

Remember, Remember

From the top of Table Mountain looking over the city

I want to write about grand adventures and be descriptive and try to paint a picture about something awesome I'm doing.  Alas I have no stories, no grand adventures, no traveling, no scraping by in a cement-floor thatched ceiling room with a hole in the ground for a toilet and a hose for a shower.  My life is decidedly less exotic these days.

I was elected to be the representative for Broadreach today for a fair up in Boca Raton.  It went very well and I enjoyed it more than I anticipated.  However, it got me thinking about all of my experiences tramping across the globe.  I'm talking about adventures like sailing in Hawai'i, moving to the Philippines, seeing a soccer match in Indonesia, hitchhiking across New Zealand, and even hiking in Cape Town (pictured, but not part of this blog).  I love my life and as I've said before I do believe I'm exactly where I need to be but that doesn't mean that I can't indulge myself in reliving memories of my recent nomadic past.

Sunshine Ahead

Here I am being excited about skiing

I have thoroughly enjoyed my time here in Utah.  Even though I didn't get to meet up with my friend I made in South Africa, didn't have any snow, and didn't go wild and do any back flips or anything, it was a fantastic vacation.  I improved my ski skills, fell fewer than 10 times in 7 days, spent time in the mountains, got a great workout every day, and spent a lot of quality time with family.  To me, that is a successful trip.

Tomorrow I return to the sunshine state after 9pm.  It will be New Year's Eve.  Luckily I have already made arrangements for a friend to pick me up.  As for now I haven't packed but I'm too tired to do anything so I will save it all until the morning.  Inevitably everything is going to be stuffed into the suitcase so I'm not too concerned.  I came here with some room to spare in my bag anyway.

The forecast for my first day in Miami appears to be sunny with a high of 26 (nearly 80F) and I can hardly wait!

Bienvenido a Miami!

I made it! I'm back in Miami! I loved my visit to Mystic but it is strangely nice to be back in south Florida with the excitement of seeing friends and starting up a brand new job.

Miami skyline

Image from http://sarahvazquez.blogspot.com/2010/08/postcard-from-miami-fl.html

Up, Up, and Away

This is going to me my last or one of my last updates in a while. I’m writing this in the plane from Charlotte to Houston after narrowly avoiding (or at least minimizing) some serious concerns. It started last night when I had a massive list to complete (complete academic registration, check health insurance, sort out birthday gifts, book a flight, finalize packing, etc). As I was double checking the finances, I discovered that the credit card was missing. I tore apart my bags and searched them to no avail. It was about 11:40 and I debated for a solid 5 minutes whether or not to call the “travel phone” which is always with someone 24 hours a day. Ultimately I decided it was better they know sooner than later and I ended up calling much to the dismay of a particularly sleepy office staff. She assured me that everything would be fine and made me feel a bit better though still overall I felt awful for calling. Not only did I disturb her so late at night, but I have already started the trip on a shaky foot. In retrospect, I could have called from Houston but I was running on about 3-4 hours of sleep from the night before and trying to deal with losing a credit card so give me a break.

Anyway, I finished all that I could do last night, got a 2 hour nap, then made it to the airport on time without any problems. Within two minutes of walking through the doors however, I was informed that my flight was delayed and I wouldn’t arrive in Houston until after my flight was scheduled to leave for Belize. Luckily they had another flight to Belize leaving an hour or two later and booked me on it. All was well until we had to deal with the congestion from several delayed flights and didn’t get out until 45 minutes after the re-scheduled departure. The captain said that we would be arriving at 10:30 (thus missing my 10:20 departure) and most of the flight was spent telling myself (and fully believing) that everything would be perfectly fine even if I didn’t get to Belize for another day. It turned out that the captain had neglected to account for the change in time zone giving me another hour. I’ll now have 15 minutes to get off the plane and find my gate before boarding starts. If that’s not enough good news, I’ll be arriving in Belize right about the time another group comes in with a friend of mine so I’ll most likely be able to see them.

Here’s to a fantastic summer - setbacks, delays, problems and all. You can never eliminate every obstacle but you can decide what will be the best way around them.

Southern Migration

For much of my life, I've had a mediocre to grim outlook on the state of Ohio. As a child, it represented the wedge that separated me from my beloved hometown and friends of Charleston. As an adult, it represents the geographic void between the east coast and the great plains marked by rolling hills, corn, a river that once caught fire, and the one and only gem that is Cedar Point. All said, I know that I am a bit hard on the buckeye state. I have more loyalty to WV and love it dearly but to be fair, Ohio really is a wonderful place to raise a family and go to school. It's not a state in which I will ever reside again for as long as I live, but it has a lot going for it and it is home to a lot of good people.

Mom and Dad sending me off

I am putting Ohio in the spotlight because it is where I spent a large portion of my winter break. After returning on the 23^rd of December (a 4-month absence), I managed to meet up with a good portion of high school and college friends as well as a number of family members from my father's side of the family. I wish that I could have spent more time with all of them but due to an upcoming interview on the 13^th, my departure was moved earlier. An interesting side note is that this break marked the longest amount of consecutive time at home since the summer of 2008.

My southern migration started with lunch in Columbus and dinner in Dayton with high school friends. I made it to Oxford by night, spent the next day there, and left the following morning for Charlotte, via Cincinnati. Due to a serious snow/ice storm in the southern states, I was forced to reluctantly alter my course. Instead of driving through Kentucky for the first time in my life, I re-routed myself through Charleston and onward down I-77. The logic here was that if in fact I became stranded and could go no farther, I could fall back on any of a number of contacts that I have along 77. Due to serious pressure from family members, I decided to change my plans such that I would spend the night in Charleston regardless of the weather conditions. At the moment of writing, I am currently in Charleston, freshly showered, significantly tired, and prepared go to Charlotte by morning.

All Roads Point North

Renee

I left my home in warm sunny Coconut Grove in search of family, friends, adventure, and unfortunately cold. Spirits were high as I was looking forward to being rewarded by Kristin's welcoming smile and hospitality in Atlanta. I heard rumors the night before that Renee, one of my best friends from my semester in South Africa was possibly in Atlanta at the same time. Up to this point, I have only seen one of my 18 other housemates from that semester.

Kristin

On the 12^th Since Renee is doing grad school in Cape Town, it was a shock that we were not only going to be in the same hemisphere, not only in the same country, not only in the same state, but in the same CITY at the same time. A phone call confirmed the rumor and I decided that I would figure out how to see both Renee and Kristin during my time there. Without disregard to my long-planned rendez-vous with Kristin, I talked to both of them and found it appropriate to hang out with Renee for dinner before going to stay with Kristin. Being able to see both of them was so great that I'm still happy about it a week and a half later.

From Atlanta I traveled northeast to Charlotte where I stayed with Mike's family (Mike is my sister Liza's fiance). While there, Liza and I took care of some shopping and all of us went out for a fantastic Vietnamese dinner. After a few nights I packed up and rolled on through the mountains up to Lynchburg, VA where I met up with family. I saw cousins, aunts, and uncles during my wonderful stay there and for the first time saw some stunning mountainscapes. Living in Miami has some disadvantages one of which is elevation. Let's just say if you draw Florida on a piece of paper, you instantly have a 3-D model of the lovely sunshine state. Anyway from VA I packed up and picked up Nathan from Charleston.

Typical scene when hanging out with Nathan.

Nathan is one of my college roommates and good friend from Denison. He lives only blocks from where I grew up and we most certainly would have crossed paths if I hadn't moved to Ohio. We headed up to his apartment together in Morgantown where he goes to school at WVU. That night was filled with hot chocolate, movies, reminiscing, and shooting each other with his extensive artillery of nerf guns. The fun finally ended when the clouds blocked our view of the mesmerizing lunar eclipse. Together we went out to Wisp Resort the next day in MD to ski. It ended up being a brilliant decision because there were hardly a hundred people on the entire mountain spread among 30 runs.

I was worried it would take me a while to warm up and that I would probably end up breaking a leg, but after the 2^nd run I felt as if the 8+ years of non-skiing completely disappeared and I was swooping, gliding, turning, cutting, jumping, and carving like a champ. The entire day was nothing short of invigorating.

My final drive home yesterday marked the conclusion of 1800 miles of driving, 60+ gallons of gas, 11 family members, 3 college friends, 9 states, and (only) 4 months of being away from home.

Turn, Turn, Turn

I'm writing this after being back in the states for a while but I am waiting to post it and backdate it due to the fact that I am making a surprise visit to graduation and don't want to give myself away.

The day trip to Saba was a lot of fun. The diving reminded me a little of Bali, minus a lot of fish. Landing on the tiny runway was great and then riding in the car was dizzying. You see, the tiny island is nearly like a cone and all roads up or down snake back and forth all the way up and down the mountain.

Likewise, the final days of St Maarten were essentially as expected although it all seemed very sudden. I'm so used to packing up and leaving places that it didn't phase me a lot. It wasn't until the plane was lifting off the ground that I fully grasped the fact that St Maarten had just turned into a chapter of my past.

I flew into Charlotte and stayed in the house of Mike's parents (Mike is the boyfriend of my sister). Over the past 11+ months, I've seen malls, cities, buildings, cars, paved roads, and fast-food chains. Those were not particularly special. However, seeing a neighborhood was captivating. Houses were lined up one after another with yards full of lush green grass with signs of lawn mowers.

Guyton and Susie's wedding was wonderful. Relatives I hadn't seen in ages were there and I had the pleasure of meeting some new folks as well.

The real bit of interest comes after arriving at home. Flying into CAK from Charlotte, I was separate from my parents and my flight arrived a few hours prior to theirs. Without a car or phone, the only way to get home from the airport was to arrange a ride and in stepped Mark to the rescue.


I have to recover the other half of this post. It will come later.

I'm on a BOAT!

Just to let everyone know, I've been working on Passion for about a week and a half now, 6 days being spent on the boat with guests on board. It's been a lot of work but also a lot of fun at the same time. Would I do it again? With this group, yes I would. One of the things that's easy to forget is that this crew is not typical: everyone gets along. Apparently on a ton of boats, that's not the case.

Unfortunately the best shot I have of the exterior

We've been from St Maarten to St Barths, BVI, and now we're sitting at port in either St Thomas or St John, US Virgin Islands. We moved when I was asleep and so I'm not exactly sure. I get to go to shore relatively frequently as well as snorkel, play beach football with the guests, swim, go tubing, sail the laser, and ride jet skis. Sometimes my going ashore consists of taking out garbage, but at least I get to see more of these islands than those who stay on board. Most of my work consists of rinsing, cleaning, rinsing, and drying off again. I don't think being a deckhand on a private yacht is what I want to do with the rest of my life, but it might be a perfectly viable option to make money for a year or so. First thing's first, and that's getting course selection approval from the University of Miami where, by the way, I have been accepted. Until next time, don't sleep in so late, stop to watch the birds every once in a while, and eat your vegetables. Peace!

Dawning of a New Age

For about a dozen years, I have looked at life through a particular metaphor. I've never been much of a surfer but I know how powerful and impressive waves can be. The way I have seen it is that you have a surf board and every obstacle in life is a wave. Either stand up and take a glorious ride or bob up and down watching all the excitement of life pass by. Of course in deciding to ride a wave, there is a serious inherent danger of falling off and being churned around and eaten up alive completely at the mercy of the raging waves.

I've been silent about many serious apprehensions about moving to St Maarten. My biggest worries have been seeded in lack of communication, not knowing where to stay, not knowing who to talk to upon arrival, and not knowing where to look for work. Unlike my preparations in moving to the Philippines and Indonesia that involved sending out about 50 emails each, I have only contacted one person in St Maarten, and he is currently on holiday in France. When I tried to phone the crew housing (budget housing geared toward any crew members working on the island) before leaving Sydney, none of the three numbers resulted in an answer. Going to Gili Trawangan, I was not worried about finding a place to live: the island is set up for backpackers and I found a place my first day for $100/month. From what I've heard about St Maarten and the other Caribbean islands, cheap hotels can go for $200/night. Needless to say, the lack of certainty was terribly daunting as I packed and geared up for my marathon flight.

Upon arrival to Hawaii, I stuck to my plan of immediately finding a phone to call St Maarten. After a 30 minute quest to find a phone, I was able to convince the crew at American Airlines to let me use their private staff room to make the calls. As if it was written, it wasn't until the third call (remember I was given only 3 numbers) that I got an answer, but boy what an answer it was. The woman on the other end of the phone informed me that her crew house was full but upon asking if there was another place I could stay, she offered to personally find me a place to stay and set me up with an address to give customs upon entry into the country when filling out the arrival paperwork. The plan was to call her upon arrival in St Maarten and find out where to go. I promptly got in touch with my cousin Meg (thanks again to the generosity of my new American Airlines friends) and organized to meet for lunch. Meg is the cousin I lived with for two months in Hawaii while her husband Conor was in Afghanistan. Thankfully, the three of us we were able to meet up for about 45 minutes for sushi near the airport.

I was so happy that I was practically dancing through the airport. Every detail is falling right into place. Boy did I ever catch that wave. I am riding one of the biggest meanest curling waves of my life with joy and excitement pumping through my veins as I stand on my board like a professional accepting all risk and embracing every bit of the exhilarating ride.

Thunder Down Under

As with my last update, I feel as if I have to cut things a bit short. The good thing is that I'm sitting on a plane right now with nowhere to go. I'm a captive writer. Here's a run down of the notable things that happened while in the land of the most dangerous spiders, snakes, jellyfish, and sharks.

One of my first excursions around the city was to the Sydney Wildlife World. Here over 130 species of native Australian insects, spiders, mammals, and reptiles call home. Most notable are the world's deadliest snake and spider, a massive crocodile, koalas, and kangaroos. Petting and getting a picture with the absolutely adorable koalas required dropping 20 dollars which I was not keen to do, especially when the guide said admitted that they don't like people touching them. However I must have looked particularly special when I went to see the kangaroos because after waiting about ten minutes for the guide's talk and listening to the whole thing, he told me that I alone could come in and pet the one that had come over for food. It was not only the first time I ever remember seeing a kangaroo but certainly the first time I've ever touched one. Coming away from 3 hours of seeing native Australian creatures left me feeling that it was time and money well spent.

My housing was quite peculiar during my stay in Sydney. For the first 3 nights, I was happily in a cheap backpacker's not far from the city. The intention was to spend that time finding another equally or less expensive place but I ended up just deciding it was too much hassle. When I went to book a room for the rest of my stay, it turned out that between the AC/DC concert, Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras, Ultimate Fighting Championships, and the Chinese new year, they were full for Saturday. It didn't take too long to figure out that literally every single backpacker's within a 40 mile radius was completely full for Saturday and Saturday alone. Considering my options, it turned out the best I could do was about $100/night. It was then (Thursday night) that I started frantically sending out emails to everyone I knew asking for a place to stay. I was honestly prepared to sleep on a park bench. The following morning I got an email from Shavely (sha-VEL-ee), a Denison student studying abroad here, that I could stay at their place on a couch and I immediately took her up on the offer.

Later that night, I was hanging out with the study abroad group in their apartment. I didn't think anything of it when the doorbell rang and 3 people came in. One of the three was a curly-haired guy who introduced himself as John. It was odd because I thought he looked incredibly like a John that I knew from Denison but certainly couldn't be the same one since this was in Sydney. Upon asking where he was from, he answered Pennsylvania. I had forgotten where the John I was thinking of was from, but I went out on a limb, looked at him, and just said, “Auerbach? John Auerbach?” He looked at me in bewilderment and I knew at that moment that it was he. The rest of the night I spent in shock that a guy who went on pre-orientation with me to Washington DC and spent two years at a tiny school in the middle of Ohio could end up in the same place on the other side of the world. We reminisced for a while about different people we both knew and it was amazing. Unfortunately I, of all people, didn't get a picture. Rats.

The famous Sydney Opera House

Another activity high on my priority list was to see a concert in the Sydney Opera House. I had seen the structure from the outside but decided it would be more memorable to actually go to a show and see it from the inside. Unfortunately I missed my opportunity to see a proper symphony in the concert hall but managed to snag a ticket for Lady Carol, an Irish ukulele player/singer. It took me an hour to get there by bus (instead of 20 min) thanks to the New Year celebration thus I was about 5 minutes late. It was a great show and I loved that I was able to go inside the Opera House. Definitely worth it.

The one and only AC/DC in concert.  Yes, I was close!

A far more memorable concert was the sold out AC/DC concert at the Olympic Stadium with 70,000 spectators. I went to the Australian equivalent of Craig's List and found a ticket selling for less than the original cost and jumped on it. The day of the concert I spent about 4 hours navigating my way around southern Sydney trying to track down the guy's house but obviously made it there. The tickets were Stadium A, meaning house left, touching the stage. In other words, this is the section where mosh pits tend to happen. Because the guy I bought the ticket said it's not really out of control (he had too many tickets and went a couple nights before), my camera came along; I would have kicked myself throughout the entire concert if I didn't have it. I must say that AC/DC is not my favorite band, but let me just say they are AWESOME in concert especially considering their age – they got going around 1971. I have a ton of photos and videos but I won't post them all. Of all the things I did in Sydney, the concert was possibly the most memorable.

Thanks to everyone who helped me out during my time there! Kate, Shavely, Steve, Chad (thanks for reading, man), Mike(s), Shauna, Steph, Chris, Sandy, and everyone I met at the backpackers. Peace!

The End of an Era

As is usual, I have gotten behind in posting and have to sacrifice detail such as describing the lush green fields littered with white sheep, the captivating hike through the rain forest opening up to a massive Fox Glacier, further hitchhiking adventures, making it up to the spectacular pancake rocks and taking a stroll along the beach watching the sun set over an aggressive though spellbinding Tasman Sea. Certainly all of these things made for a very enjoyable journey but I will have to rely on my memories alone to bring back the pleasures of my last days on the south island.

Very nice car for the price

I made it back to Wellington and stayed one night before picking up a rental car – a 6-speed manual Toyota Corolla that couldn't have been more than two years old. For those who don't know, I jump at any chance to drive stick shift. I have never had much access to one, so it's a huge treat whenever the opportunity arises. It didn't take long to get used to the left handed shifting nor the driving on the left side of the road. I've done it before so I felt confident doing it again. The journey alone provided a great deal of satisfaction, but it was the destination that was magnificent.

If you're familiar with BBC's Planet Earth series (absolutely amazing), perhaps you've seen the episode on caves. A large portion of this episode is devoted to the Waitomo caves on New Zealand's north island. When I discovered this, the caves worked their way to the top priority on my New Zealand agenda. Seeing the caves was not at all a disappointment. The tour started out with a quick abseiling (rappelling) lesson and before I knew it I was volunteering to be the first to drop down 40 meters through a narrow passage into the black abyss. Climbing through some tight corridors brought us to a platform where I was strapped in and told quite suddenly to turn off my lamp, jump, and let go. The consequence for my blind obedience was a terrifying yet exhilarating zip-line into a pitch black cavern light up by only meager starry lights from the glow worms above. An adrenaline-rushing jump into the icy water was followed by a relaxing drift in rubber inter-tubes along the black water contained by the moist limestone walls. A round trip voyage was much too short but what followed was a combination of walking and swimming through the shallow river systems cutting the cave passages out of the rock. These are the same rivers that go on to carve out the rock with passages reaching 900 meters below the surface. After a good trek through the caves on foot, our guides gave us the option to either turn left and walk right out back into the sun or continue straight and crawl around a bit before coming across a couple waterfalls that, if we rock climb against the water, will also take us back to the surface. No surprise in the decision. By the time it was over, I was ready to turn back around and do it all over again but my wallet disagreed and so I continued on my way to the car. A couple who went on the trip with me bought the photo cd and promised to send me the photos but I'm afraid since I've not yet received word, I will never see them.

My travel map of New Zealand

That night I worked my way back to Auckland having plenty of time to reflect on my trip in a serious traffic jam. Upon arrival I really wondered whether New Zealand could live up to its reputation or if people had built it up too much. Personally I found it to be everything I had expected and nothing less. Great sights, friendly people, good food, brilliant weather (mostly), and a lot of wonderful experiences. I'd like to send thanks out to Alastair and Nicole, the Abbots, the Bishops, and John for letting me spend several nights with them. Also a big shout out to all of them and other friends I met along the way such as Will, Alex, Sarah, and the grad students at U of Otago. Speaking of, the University of Otago is currently my top pick for graduate school. Overall I had a brilliant month in New Zealand and I look forward to the day I am able to return.

From Sea to Shining Sea

The gray clouds overhead were looming with rain while I stood alone waiting for the bus. I had paid the money for the tour and so I prayed that the 7am clouds would clear by the time we reached the west coast; visibility was awful. 20 minutes passed before I called the office on the phone certain that they must have forgotten me; evidently they were just running behind. Why they were behind schedule was completely beyond me. When I boarded the coach, there were 12 eyes looking my way. One English couple, two German women, the driver, and a trainee all watched me and smiled when I realized how crowded the bus wasn't.

Much to my surprise, I didn't sleep a wink on the 4-5 hour ride to Milford Sound. Between the guide's informative tidbits and the stunning scenery, albeit set amongst a gray sky, there was enough to keep my eyes glued to the windows and my camera poised in my hands ready for any break in the clouds. As the day went by and the bus pressed onward, we arrived at Milford Sound. Milford Sound as it turns out is actually a fjord due to the fact that it was carved out by a massive glacier (geologically speaking, not too long ago). As a result of it's formation, the high peaks of the mountain range drop straight into the water to form a breathtaking view around every winding turn. Massive bodies of rock rise up like majestic towers that have stood by for thousands of years keeping watch over the sea. These phenomenal rocky peaks are covered with a surprising amount of greenery which brings the mountain faces to life. As if the cliffs alone were not impressive enough, we were visited by a pod of playful dolphins jumping out of the water.

The entire experience was something magical, the likes of which I've never experienced. Never have I felt magic in the wind, breathed enchantment out of the air, or been so awestruck with beauty as I was when slowly cruising along the water of Milford Sound. Pictures do not do this place justice but I will include them anyway.

Keeping Busy

Beautiful ferry ride

For your viewing pleasure, this is a picture from the ferry ride taken on my way into the south island. It was much nicer in real life - undoubtedly the best ferry ride of my life.

Anyway there are a ton of things that I have to think about, do, plan, and prepare for. Here's a list of what I can come up with off the top of my head of things I'm planning to do:

Get in touch with University of Otago
Organize transport to the university
Find accommodation for staying there
Send my computer battery to USA to be replaced
Decide on a track for the first hike for the next 3 days
Finish packing for the hike
Get a hold of a proper map and compass
Buy batteries, food, and trash bags for tomorrow
Call car rental agencies to ask about prices
Figure out transport to my second and longer hike
Determine transport back to Christchurch
Book a spot for black water rafting
Ship a bunch of things home

This is as much as I can remember. There are many more things I have to do but I can't think of them right now. All of these things to do are quite important but the most urgent plan (that I didn't even mention) is sleeping and I'm going to get working on that one pronto.

Goodbye Indonesia

My time in Indonesia has expired. Unlike milk, it didn't begin to gradually smell putrid. Nope, not like that at all. Instead, it turned from happy to rotten in a matter of minutes. Before going into that, I'd like to write a little preface about how nice my final days were on Gili Trawangan.

First of all, the dive resort I was working for, named Lutwala Dive, is amazing. It is beautiful, has a great pool, it's clean, has an incredible view, is situated away from all the noise and tourists, and has very friendly staff. I truly enjoyed showing up to work every morning because I felt incredibly welcome and there was always someone to talk to.

Before finishing, I certified my two divemaster candidates named Francois and Audrey. Audrey finished up first and went out to Bali to begin the instructor course right away. Francois, who started later, was on a much more serious time crunch. I worked with him every day for just over 2 weeks and on my last full day on the island, we finished. That night was spent at the Irish bar celebrating the completion of the course. Needless to say, Francois probably forgot what he was celebrating by the time he went to sleep (I exaggerate).

By 10:30 the next morning, I had been to Lutwala Dive twice, signed all the divemaster paperwork, sent a couple emails, printed off tickets, paid my ferry ticket, finished packing, said goodbye to friends, sold my bike, and bought a few pieces of bread before getting onto the boat. The last boat leaving Gili Trawangan departed at 11:00 and I was on it. 3 hours later when I arrived at the airport, security informed me that I was too early to check in for my 9:45pm flight. I knew I would have to wait that long, but I was hoping that waiting would not involve schlepping luggage everywhere. This is when I realized how great an idea it was not to sell the guitar. My guitar skills are quite far from being able to play in a public space for money and my vocal ability is even worse (I'm my hardest critic, but anyone hearing me would agree I can't do it for money). However, when it comes to playing for myself just for passing the time, I'm a musical wizard. No, it's not that it sounds any better when I'm playing for myself. It is just a matter of how I connect with the sounds that come out.

6 hours pass with the sun already setting. By now, it's time to check in. The first problem to throw off my systematic and fluid journey through the airport was a woman corralling passengers through to the check-in counter. “Sorry sir, the guitar has to be checked.” Arguing quickly proved hopeless and I easily caved, being forced to pay $6 to have my $16 guitar wrapped in bubble wrap. Having this issue sorted out, I proceeded once again to check-in.

The friendly face behind the counter greeted me with a convincing smile as if to say “hello sir, I really like my job and I want to make your journey pleasant.” She was clothed in a standard green uniform with a matching hat and shiny lapel pin that glinted in the dim fluorescent lights above. My actions and answers preceded her predictable commands and questions. Everything was textbook form. Then we got to the luggage. (Marcus, perhaps this is the island's way of trying to get back at me for leaving.)

As it turns out, Jet Star, a proud partner of Qantas, has this policy. You are able to take sports luggage on the plane without a problem. Scuba gear listed under sports luggage includes bcd, fins, mask, snorkel, regulator, knife, weights, and even tanks. However, if you take these things in a bag to check in on a Jet Star flight, you will quickly find out that you cannot take anything else with you at all. The max limit is 20kg no matter what kind of luggage you have. You see, I have 20kg of sports luggage. I also have about 20kg of everything else (books, clothes, shoes, toiletries, chargers, etc). Jet Star's policy is that for every additional kilo, you pay 20 Australian dollars. After some arguing and talking to a supervisor, it turned out that it's actually 23 US dollars on an international flight. Isn't that convenient.

The poor girl in the uniform was clearly feeling helpless as her smile turned to genuine concern while she watched this bubbly lone American traveler turn into a rather upset, insistent, and panicked customer. Several times I made sure to tell her that my anger and shock was not being taken out on her at all and was certain to make it clear that she was doing nothing wrong while at the same time trying to get her to solve the problem. She was a puppet, almost completely helpless in my dilemma that was taking control of my temper. $570 was the total: more than I paid for the ticket. When I asked about canceling the flight and booking another one (listen, desperation was setting in and I needed to take serious action), she fetched me a phone number of the Jet Star office.

I kindly took my bags to abandon my stake at the counter in front of the dazed employee and retreat to an empty post. With shaky hands I dropped my bags and pulled out my phone. The first number I dialed was not the one she gave me: it was my father's cell phone. At 7:30am EST on a Thursday, my parents are probably already at work but Dad usually has his cell with him. I tried every combination of +001, +01, +1, 001, 01, and 1 preceding the phone number, but nothing worked. I frantically tried the same for my mother's cell and my dad's office (3 of the only 5 numbers I have memorized). I tried calling the number she gave me and no one picked up. One more round of every possible number to reach home and one last effort to call the office proved in vain. I was on my own. My life lines have been used up. I had to pull myself together and face the bureaucratic corporation alone.

Ripping my bags open, I pulled out another backpack and began stuffing it with anything heavy I could find. I was taking one of the employee's good ideas: take 10kg out of my bags and take it as carry-on. Most of the passengers on the flight had already checked in so I didn't have to wait to speak to her again. Heaving my bags onto the scale one last time showed that I was about 12kg over the limit and the face between the recently pressed jacket and matching green hat showed no signs of reassurance. Her disapproving and worried face brought panic back into mine. At this point, the only thing I could do short of making a scene was make it look like I planned to make a scene. The area that I was pacing widened, the tension in my hands went up, the amount of times I rubbed my face and pulled my hair increased, and the feeling of worry and panic was radiating from my body. The next thing I know is that there was a different supervisor than before standing next to my friend in green asking me questions about my luggage and before I knew it, my bags were on the conveyor toward the plane with no fee. I got a stern threat not to tell anyone [until after leaving the Auckland airport] that I had more than 20kg or else she would be in huge trouble. I thanked her a few dozen times and went on my way. If there's anything I learned from that experience, it would be that pretending to get ready to cause a scene is very effective.

During the Bali-Sydney leg of the trip, an infection broke out on my foot and while I was practically skipping onto the plane, I was forced to limp off of it. A quick purchase of band-aids and ointment were made but it would be 2 more days until seeing a proper doctor. By now, my foot is feeling much better.

Auckland is great, the people I'm staying with are wonderful, and I'm looking forward to my adventures ahead. I haven't decided whether or not to take my laptop with me (remember I can't use the battery). If I don't, I'll make sure to update every once in a while. I'll certainly take lots of photos! As always, thanks for reading and I hope you are excited about what's to come not only in this blog but also in your own lives. Take care!

Kiwi Land

I made it! Disastrous start to an otherwise rough journey with a marvelous "final" destination. I'll post about it later. Just wanted everyone to know I'm here safely and in one piece. Thanks for reading!

Welcome to Bali!!

Wow what an amazing first day! Aside from losing my credit card, it's been a really great adventure.

I made it through the airport without a hassle (after flying British, Emirates, and now Singapore, I must admit Qatar Airways is still my favorite). The airport taxi service did not rip me off.

Travel tip: when going to any foreign country where the price of anything is negotiated, first ask a third party local how much he/she would pay for it. I asked several airport employees how much they would pay for a taxi to my destination and was pleased when I got a taxi for less than their suggested amount.

I made it to my hotel without a problem (thank goodness I could exchange my leftover pesos into rupiah in the Singapore airport). I went to the atm, bought a sim card for my phone, picked up a few snacks and an Indonesian power adapter, checked my email, then fell asleep trying to update my blog. If reading this blog has the same effect as writing it, then all of you must be reading this whenever you can't sleep. I'm not sure what it is, but I consistently fall asleep while trying to update this thing.

The next morning, I woke up lying on my bed near my laptop, on top of my sheets while still sporting the clothes from when I left Manila the previous morning. I tried to write a few more lines and when I woke up a couple hours later I decided to get breakfast. The complementary breakfast was a wonderful array of both traditional and Western breakfast foods so I jumped on the opportunity to have the more traditional rice and vegetables in the morning. A side of fresh pineapple and toast topped off with a hot tea set in front of a televised tennis match without blocking the view of the pool made it all quite nearly perfect. One final unsuccessful blog update attempt urged me to be productive. After getting in touch with Margerie...

Timeout: Margerie is a friend from France whom I met while on my trip to Mozambique and she was one of the legends taking the Rescue Diver course with me in Cape Town. She has traveled the world but currently resides and works in Cape Town but is in Bali on holiday with her boss. I will be traveling around Bali with her this week before I head off to Gili Trawangan.

After getting in touch with Margerie, I decided to remain in Kuta one more night and travel with her to Amed to dive. When I told the hotel that I would like to extend my stay, they said all the rooms were taken so I moved down the road to the same hotel as Margerie. Every hotel seems to be authentically adorned with the beauty, magic, and mystery that is representative of Bali. Walkways are mazes lined with beautiful tropical plants and small neatly trimmed gardens. Grassy patches, gardens, rooftops, and gateways are some of the places that various statues called home. The statues were nothing like those found in North Canton. They depicted unworldly creatures, some with more than two arms, some with heads of elephants, others with dragon-like faces, and many more unusual features that exemplified the Hindu presence on the island. Away from the hotel, lunch was waiting for us.

Not knowing where to eat, I decided to ask the Balinese friends I made the night before where a good authentic place to eat would be. They told us a specific spot and gave us vague directions. We thanked them and went on our way over the uneven sidewalk while turning down the dozens of offers for taxis and motorbikes. Along the way we shared stories about the most authentic international culinary exploits we've each had as the anticipation built. We had to ask for the help of a few people along the way and were very pleased when many of them had never heard it before, confirming that it was a tiny place tucked in the corner of some alley. The anticipation continued to build. 5 stops to ask directions, 30 minutes of walking, and some two and a half kilometers later, we arrive at a massive restaurant suspiciously sporting the same name as the tiny hole in the wall eatery we thought we had asked for.  At any rate we decided to go in. It was gorgeous, the menu was completely in Indonesian (difficult but cool), but the food was expensive and although the squid was good, it wasn't the best. Apparently when we asked for an “authentic” restaurant, we meant “fancy.” I appreciated his suggestion at any rate and don't regret that we went there but I will never ask for restaurant suggestions abroad without being clear that I want a cheap place that the locals love. It simply further confirms my suspicions that in the Philippines and Indonesia (at least), all white people appear to be inherently rich. Pictured above is the restaurant. I told you it's fancy.

So Long Sabang

Pronounced properly, the title of this post rhymes. Anyway, greetings to all my readers. A couple days ago I left Sabang indefinitely. If I ever make it back to the Philippines, I will almost certainly pay a visit there. Only time will tell. In the interest of not making a post based on speculation and trying to guess the future, here's what I do know.

Less difficulty makes for fewer stories and adventures, but I was happy to forfeit excitement in exchange for a simple hassle-free departure from Sabang; I had no trouble getting to Manila. The hour ride on the banca from the boat station in Sabang (a hundred yards from Capt'n Gregg's) to Batangas was quite enjoyable and I walked directly onto an air-conditioned bus that took me straight into Manila. Meeting back up with the Fajardo family was a wonderful feeling: they took me back to a familiar house that felt like a home even to me. Their hospitality ranks among the best I've ever known.

That night, I tried something new. The daughter is in a capoeira group that meets several times a week. There are several regular participants who are very skilled and experienced, but there are also many beginners as well. When I walked through the door and realized I was the only white person, the only one wearing shorts, the tallest, and without question the least experienced, I started having doubts. As everyone started warming up, no one was offended by my utter cluelessness which made me feel much better and strengthened my confidence. If there's one thing I've learned about the Filipino population, it's that they are very helpful. I know any generalization needs to be taken with a grain of salt, but from my experiences, they have been very welcoming and eager to offer help. Anyway, the session continued with a sort of “monkey see, monkey do” format. The instructor demonstrated a move, and then the 20+ students would emulate it as best as possible: kicks, twists, turns, swings, sweeps, strikes, steps, handstands, cartwheels, handsprings, and more. The thing that stands out in my memory is how easy the instructor made everything look. I was constantly thinking to myself “oh, that's all we have to do? That's not hard.” These thoughts would inevitably be followed by a flailing flop onto the hardwood dance floor or at least a poor enough execution that my laughter would send me to the floor. One way or another, I usually ended up on the ground. However I feel that I must mention the feedback from other students and the instructor. Many people there were convinced that I had quite a bit of previous experience. Apparently no one (they reiterated, “no one”) gets the moves that I was getting on the first day...or second, or even usually third. For years I've wanted to pursue some sort of dance, gymnastics, or martial arts (this should be a surprise to the world because I never told this to anyone) since I think it's something in which I could excel. This capoeira session makes me want to do it even more.

The next morning I woke up with soreness in my hips and right foot but made my way to the train station. My schedule included meeting up with Armand in a mall downtown. About two months ago I mentioned that I might record at some point in Manila. Those plans are finally coming to fruition but here's the thing: it's midnight and I leave the house in no more than 6 and a half hours for Boracay. I consider this my vacation – after 2 and a half months of work 7 days a week, I get 6 days off. Sounds fair to me. However it means that I will have to continue this post later. Stay tuned for a crowded train ride, a walk through a series of malls that could be a self-sufficient city, a crazy drive around Manila, and a recording session that could have gone smoother. This video is taken from the banca on my way out of Sabang. It starts at Capt'n Gregg's and pans all the way to my apartment nestled in the middle of all of those green buildings at the end of the beach.

Sabang at Last

I was very tense as I watched one of Bong's friends carry my backpack with my dive computer, my laptop, and my camera against my better judgment. I was watching him like a hawk as we pushed our way through the crowds unsure of what I would do in my overheated exhausted state if he were to bolt. We finally made our way to the friend's car and after stuffing my bags in the back were forced to jam 4 people in three seats in the back. Along the way I told stories of life back home while we feasted upon fruit that Bong bought at a roadside market. I was concerned for only a moment when I saw the fruit stand crawling with ants but then remembered the phrase “when in Rome…” and proceeded without second thoughts. Though packed like sardines in the back seat of a vehicle pitching back and forth, we managed to share plenty of laughs. All the while I couldn’t keep myself from glancing out the windows and commenting on the beautiful landscapes. As far as my eyes could see there was green until it met the overcast sky. I saw fields, forests, jungles, and everything in between. If the Philippines has an excess of any one thing, it’s palm trees.

As much as I enjoyed the scenery and company, eventually the car rolled to a stop at which point I was to take a jeepney (I’ll talk about them at some point later) to Sabang while they continued. We said our goodbyes and I hopped into the back of the jeepney that would quickly fill beyond capacity before dropping me off near my resort. Stepping onto the streets of Sabang for the first time and my first impression was one of utter confusion. Without knowing where I was going I allowed a local to take one of my bags and show me the way and boy was I glad I did. I followed him a hundred yards down a narrow street (which I later learn is the main road) lined with wall to wall stores set just behind a sidewalk that blended right into the road on either side. He made a left turn and we walked carefully avoiding the puddles down an alley with smaller stores and food stands. Several twists and a few turns later I followed him up the stairs to the smiling faces of Captain Gregg’s Dive Resort that led me to my room shown here.

The moment I was alone, I closed my door and let the bed catch me as I fell in a swirl of exhaustion and relief. Finally in a bed, I was able to completely drop my guard and catch a refreshing and much needed breath of air. The relaxation did not last very long, but it was precisely what I needed.