Settling In

Believe it or not, things have actually been going my way since I've been on the island. I ran into an unexpectedly rough start when the airlines lost my guitar. Otherwise I made it safely to the crew house and got settled in. The island seems to be very Americanized. I've been living for 4 months where left is right and right is wrong so now I'm dancing with everyone on the sidewalk trying to get out of their way since I want to stay left and they want to walk on their right. Looking left before crossing streets is also proving to be difficult too but I'm a quick re-learner and I haven't caused any accidents yet. English is the most widely used language, American chains abound (ACE, McDonalds, Subway, Baskin Robbins, KFC, etc etc etc), and the thing that tops it all off is that the US dollar is the most widely used currency here.

3 Caribbean reef sharks looking for a snack

Thanks to a distant connection, I got in touch with Dive Safaris and was able to go with them on a dive in search of sharks. Boy was that ever a success! We found 5 (out of many) sharks that apparently hang out at a particular reef on a regular basis. I thought to myself that if this dive was any indication on what was to come, I have found the right place to dive. As it turns out, St Maarten does not have the best diving. After several days of diving (for work and for fun), I can equate it to the diving on the Gili Islands. There are some redeeming traits such as wrecks, sharks, stingrays, and barracudas, but by and large it's nothing compared to the pristine diving I found in the Philippines.

The crew house I'm in is expensive but the money from the part-time work at the dive center is juuust enough to cover it plus food. They keep me very busy there. In other words, I keep myself very busy there by helping fill tanks, set up gear, wash equipment, carry tanks, etc. The more I help out, the more chance I have to be the first one in line for work there. The people I'm living with are a different breed. I can't really explain them, but maybe I'll be around them enough for a story or two to come up.

The only other thing on my mind is that I'm reeeeeeaaaaaly thinking of going for the STCW95. This is the most basic qualification that is usually required by all boats, sailing or motor. My dream has always been to work as a dive instructor on a sailboat and this seems to be the next step to see that dream come true. I have to look into it a bit more, but I really would like to pursue it.

Exit Strategy

I didn't get the chance to post this right away when it happened, then I simply forgot about it since then. I'm post-dating this update so it falls properly into the chronology. So although it's about 3 weeks late, here's the story of my eventful voyage from Sydney to Sint Maarten.

Knowing I could find the cheapest ride to the airport via shuttle, I searched the internet for the cheapest ones. Twelve Australian dollars was the total for a shuttle called JetBus that would pick me up at the door and take me directly to the airport – much better than the 40+ dollars for the cost of a taxi. Accounting for an hour to make the 45-minute drive to the airport, two hours before the flight left, and another 30 minutes in case traffic was very bad, I told the shuttle to arrive 3 hours and 15 minutes before my flight was planning to take off. Twenty minutes after they were supposed to pick me up I rang the company to politely ask what the story was and to see when I would be picked up. After being on hold for no more than a minute, the man on the other end said the driver was 15 minutes away and coming to pick me up now. 30 minutes later, I call them back and sternly asked where my ride was. He paged the driver and told me the street he was on and said he would be there in about 5 but no more than 10 minutes later. At this point Steve saw me getting a bit uneasy and demanded we play cards. 15 minutes later I hear a car honking at me across the street. I threw my bags in the car and after saying thank you and goodbye to Steve, stepped in the back seat for a very awkward car ride.

As he was an hour late, I really didn't feel like speaking to him at all and kept every conversation to a minimum. I told him where I needed to go, what airline I was going on, answered a couple of his questions in about 3 words or less, and left it at that. I didn't really care about anything else he was saying and frankly as a customer I didn't want to hear it. Throughout the trip, he openly admitted that he wasn't going to take this job but had a friend coming in on a flight and thus decided to take it so he could meet his friend at the airport and make some money along the way. In light of the heavy traffic, the driver said that he would take the back roads. This was fine by me until he admitted that he was doing a bit of guess work. He felt comfortable guessing from his 11 years of taxi driving experience in Sydney... which ended 16 years ago. It would have also been fine had he been using GPS or a map. It might have even been alright if he wasn't cursing the other drivers on the road and making U-turns. I might have even gotten out of the car somewhat satisfied if he'd looked for the airline entrance for more than a few seconds before telling me that “that's good enough, it shouldn't be too far from here.” Because I accounted for so much extra time, I checked in and made it to my gate with a few minutes left over to watch some olympic curling before boarding.

I managed to have an open seat beside me on the way to Honolulu and was therefore able to sleep on the way there. I already wrote about getting in touch with people in St Maarten and eating sushi with Meg and Conor but I didn't mention that the airlines had lost my guitar. When I got onto the plane that evening bound for Charlotte, it was the same story – another empty seat beside me which is always conducive to sleep. By the time I made it to Charlotte the next morning, the temperature was 31F and about 90% of the people in the airport were wearing heavy winter coats and gloves as opposed to my shorts and (thank goodness!) thin sweatshirt. Anytime a door would open to the outside I would bundle up tight and rub the exposed skin on my legs to keep warm. It wasn't until the plane took off that I was finally at ease again about the weather, knowing that I was on my way to sunny blue skies.

At baggage claim, I filled out a form for my missing guitar giving them all the information I had in order to get in touch with me. The crew house I ended up in had an ample amount of beds so I grabbed a bite to eat and settled in for what I thought was only going to be a short time before finding an apartment.

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.

Table for One

What image does that phrase put into your mind? Table for one. Yes, certainly eating out at a restaurant, but more importantly it blatantly implies eating out at a restaurant...alone.

This phrase has been a recurring theme throughout my travels for the past 7 months. I do make an effort to eat with company but all too often I end up on my own. This theme is present not only during meals however, but also when doing anything else: booking a tour for one, bus ticket for one, accommodation for one, movie for one, always one. As long as I keep busy, the concept of loneliness is foreign. However, as soon as I'm on my own with nothing planned, it slowly creeps in from all sides.

Walking back in the dark to the hostel after an uneventful night in Queenstown, I look up at the stars. I can't help but notice how bright and beautiful they are. I think of the friendly Hawaiian waitress I just met and wonder if I should return to the restaurant and boldly ask when she finishes working, but decide instead to lose myself in thought. After all, she did imply that it would be a long night for her.

On a sidewalk on the other side of the earth, I begin to reflect on my travels. Thinking of everything I've done fills me with an acute sense of accomplishment. I have traveled across the globe on my own, found work, overcome obstacles, met new people, experienced new cultures, tried new things, had grand adventures, and have really truly been living my life. As my feelings turn from satisfaction to pride, I am pierced by the cold realization that these feelings won't keep me company. They won't talk to me, laugh at my jokes, give me a hug, keep me warm at night, or care for me when I'm ill. Every step on the cold hard concrete echoes across the vacant street filled with strangers. The streetlights stoop toward the earth trying to see what's wrong with this lone solemn wayfarer. I tilt my head back toward the sky to pick out the familiar shape of Orion and take a slow deep breath; the cool fresh night air tastes stale and dry. People pass me by in cars and on foot. They are passersby with direction, uninterested in my presence. I am a ghost.

My thoughts turn to home – to family, friends, and places. I think about Denison, about the blood, sweat, and tears that I sacrificed every night learning physics. I think about all my classmates who valiantly struggled by my side to make it where we are today. I think about the fun I had all four years with roommates, classmates, teammates, bandmates, and other friends. I also think about not only my sister and parents, but my relatives too who have vigorously supported and encouraged me. I think about what everyone else is doing at this very moment. In my head, I live the classic movie scene where a character is out in the winter cold and peers into the window of a house to find a happy smiling family sitting down for a meal by a warm glowing fire. However, as it plays out in my head, I resist the urge for inclusion, consciously turning my back and continuing on down the street as if to say “not yet, not today.”

Photo from Arthur's Pass

I truly believe that I am much happier alone on my grand adventure than I would have been staying in Ohio. The amount of freedom I have in where to go and what to do is far beyond what I would have at home or if traveling with a companion. It is that freedom and ability to be completely spontaneous that has shaped my entire journey and I don't regret one bit of it. I'm no psychologist, but I think a touch of loneliness is a natural healthy response by anyone in my position. Life is about feeling alive. In order to feel alive, you have to feel. I embrace the moments of loneliness, allow the feeling to course through my veins, and then move on with my life strangely rejuvenated. Here's to being alive.

Hitchhiker's Guide

First of all, I was waiting for the day that I reached 25 followers. I was going to have a celebratory post where I got really excited about having a quarter of a hundred people reading my blog, but then I missed it. Sure enough, there are now 27. I try to make a habit of not judging myself on what other people do, but seeing the number of followers rise is the only measurable quantity to how many people are interested in what I'm up to. Here's a big shout out to all 27 of you. Thanks a million for following my travels and keeping me company along the way!

Hitchhiking outside Christchurch

Transportation. What does the word make you immediately think of? Does it bring up images of driving in a car? Fond memories of plane rides? Perhaps a lovely trip in a boat? If you think long enough about the concept of transportation, the idea of cost might cross your mind. With gas prices soaring, there is really only one cheap way to get form one place to another. I'm sure this form of transport is equally as old as any other: hitchhiking. Can't you imagine the very moment Karl Benz started up his first automobile for the first time how his buddies must have been running after him for a free ride? I'm sorry if your imagination doesn't have as much fun as mine seems to but the bottom line is that hitchhiking is still a great way to get around today.

I am going out on a limb and assuming that most of you have never tried it before as a means to travel across a country. Based on this assumption, I will describe a few things I've discovered as a result of my experiences.

Who:
From what I've seen, it's very difficult for more than one hiker to get picked up at a time. People often have space for only one more person, so if you're trying to hitch with someone else, good luck. If there is competition, it's best to walk in the direction you want to go. Separation from the competition is the only way to get picked up.

Where:
Places where cars need to slow down are ideal such as construction zones, turns, or bridges. However, there needs to be a place for them to pull off so forget mountain roads. Getting picked up in town is very unlikely, so starting from the far end of traffic areas is ideal.

When:
It's always best to start early. Sometimes there's hardly a wait but on off days, it may take over twice the time that it would driving there directly.

Why:
It is way cheaper than any other mode of transportation. Moreover, it can be far more interesting and much more beneficial. For instance, I had my first ride on a jet ski as a direct result of hitchhiking.

How:
As seen on tv. It's nothing special. Hold the arm out and confidently stick that thumb toward the sky. There are a few tricks that are handy: facing the cars allows for eye contact, a smile goes a long way, a limp arm or thumb will only hinder, a sign with a not-so-distant location (even if it takes 3 different signs) increases chances, and continuing to walk is an indication of liveliness and determination.

Off-roading in the second ride I got

As you should expect, I have come away with some great stories. For instance, the first car that picked me up literally went up in smoke. I was taken off-roading through bush and rocky river beds (pictured). As I said above, one of the people to pick me up later took me out for an absolutely thrilling ride on his jet ski. I've been picked up by many different nationalities, a wide variety of ages, and people with quite different stories. The experience that stands out slightly above the rest however would have to be the ride I got after finishing my tramp in Arthur's Pass.

Full picnic offered to me, a hitchhiker

Two long days of hiking several kilometers through rugged terrain with a 20kg pack brought me out to state highway 73. Some 200km to my right was Christchurch, and about 25km to my left was Arthur's Pass Department of Conservation (DOC). Unfortunately although my destination was Christchurch, I needed to swing by the DOC first. About 20 minutes of standing exhausted on the side of the road, a green car that had already passed me comes up behind and asks me if I need a lift. My initial thought was “duh,” but I politely said something to the extent of “if it wouldn't be any trouble, I would certainly appreciate it.” I hopped into the back of the '78 Rolls Royce and introduced myself to the other three. Steven, a 50+ year old New Zealander was on his way through Arthur's Pass with his mother and cousin to see the mountains covered in Rata, a native flowering tree that blooms red for about 2 weeks out of the year. We started talking and it turned out that Steven is actually going back to Christchurch after a picnic lunch with the family and offered to take me all the way there. After completing my errands at the DOC, it was insisted that I join them for the picnic lunch set beneath the mountains bursting out with red blossoms. The two and a half hour ride back to Christchurch (which included a shameless 20 minute nap) was probably the smoothest and most comfortable ride of my life. Who knew that my first ever ride in a Rolls Royce would be as a sweaty tired hitchhiker?

On Deck

Here's a sneak preview of what my upcoming posts are going to be about once I get back to Christchurch and have my laptop back.

Hitchhiker's Guide
-Hitching to Arthur's Pass and beyond


Table for One
-Ups and downs of traveling alone


Sea to Shining Sea
-Trip to Milford Sound (with pictures!)


As for right now, I've accepted that Australia is in low season for the next few months and have decided to go to the Caribbean instead (alas, I will not make it around the world). If anyone has suggestions where to go, please send them to me URGENTLY. I need to book the ticket by the end of the week. Some of my best choices so far are Cayman Islands, Bahamas, St Lucia, St. Maarten, Turks and Caicos, Aruba, and Trinidad. I've ruled out Haiti and Jamaica. Alright, my internet is running low so I need to get running. Well, wandering off to bed. Thanks for reading!

On Hold

Dry riverbed in Arthur's Pass

I really hope that I'll be able to catch up a bit on my recent adventures. It takes an enormous amount of time to type out everything I've done. I'll have no computer for the next 10 days or so, thus drastically decreasing the likelihood I'll include everything so far, let alone in sufficient detail. Unfortunately, unless I don't sleep tonight, there's nothing I can do about it.