The Journey Home

Date: Saturday August 13, 2011

Time: 5:35 pm

Location: Auckland, NZ, Auckland Airport

Well, here I am again; sitting in an airport. The circumstances are significantly different though. I don’t (as much as I would like to) plan to miss my flight this time. Not that I actually planned that, but it’s about an hour out of boarding time and I’m already sitting at the gate.

Instead of hours of Canada and a Sydney airport travel, I have spent the last couple hours on various buses. After breakfast at Dixie Brown’s with Ken, he dropped me off at the Naked Bus. Thankfully, everyone inside was fully clothed with the only reference to nudity coming from the catchphrase of the bus company; “Stripping the cost of travel!”

I was enjoying having two seats to myself and the quiet of the bus and at the same time listening to Adele and Taylor Swift. It wasn’t until the bus stopped to pick up passengers in Waikato that I had to share my seat.

“sithere?” mumbled a girl with dark hair and big earrings as she sat on my purse.

As if I had a choice. I regretted her sudden presence for two reasons; one, the fact that she took the seat without waiting for my answer and sat on my purse. And two; because I had to pee and she had just blocked me in.

She immediately pulled her hood over her sunglasses (???), crossed her arms and shut her eyes. There was no squeezing past this broad. She had bags on her lap. And to give you a picture of her size, her pockets were untucked because there was just no room in her pants. Do I dare rouse the rude sleeping girl? I thought as I looked longingly back at the on-board lavatory, a teasing two seats behind.

Luckily, we stopped in Hamilton just then to change bus drivers and were given a 10 minute bathroom break.

Once I arrived at the airport and checked in I set out on a mission to get my money back from Air New Zealand. I was promised 100 dollars of clothing reimbursed after they lost my bag and I sure as heck wasn’t gonna miss out on it! Unfortunately, since it was to be reimbursed in New Zealand dollars (which were of no use to me at this point) I only got 71 U.S. dollars back after fees and currency differences were incurred.

After all that was said and done I walked over to security and unloaded the 30 pounds of bags I was carrying on my person. I got to the other side of the metal detector and was asked to follow a man to an inspection point where he carried my red backpack. He did a quick search and found the jar of Nutella I was bringing home. Rats!

“You can’t take this, it’s over 400 milliliters.”

“Ok.” I said, shattered.

“Would you like a spoon?” he laughed.

YES!

“No, that’s alright.” I laughed back and left in search of sustenance before I got on the 12 hour flight.

When I got on the plane, I realized I was given an aisle seat. Oh, joy. At least I was sitting next to a harmless elderly couple.

Yeah, right.

I put on Water for Elephants and settled myself in to the uncomfortable coach seat the best I could when I noticed the lady was struggling with her remote and TV. I offered my assistance and showed her how to push the arrows and select button (so hard!). I thought she understood until she called the flight attendant over not half an hour later.

 I finished my movie and the chicken dinner I was given then I decided to try and sleep. I reclined my chair, which the guy behind me was not too happy about. Sorry mister, I’m not too happy about my sleeping situation either.

I didn’t even recline it fully, which I discovered after I was drifting to sleep and elderly woman pressed my recline button instead of hers. Whoa! Good morning!

After that, sleep was just wishful thinking. The seat was extraordinarily uncomfortable and my poor bottom was getting sore no matter how much I shifted cheeks. Also, instead of going to sleep, elderly woman decided to read some romance novel and her darn overhead light was shining in my eyes.

Looks like I’m having a Big Bang Theory marathon.

I finally arrived in L.A. and had to run around the airport like a chicken with my head cut off to customs and ticketing and security in under an hour to make my next flight.

But I made it! So here I am in Seattle, spending a few days with my sister before I return to Colorado.  I’m already missing New Zealand and all my friends. The New Zealand smell Febreeze (I kid you not) my sister bought is just not the same.

Black, Blue and Bruised

Date: Wednesday,  August 4, 2011

Time: 4:05 pm

Location: Taupo, NZ, The Fox’s sun room

This past Saturday I took my first ever trek up a mountain with the intention of taking advantage of the slippery quality of snow and the ability to ride gracefully through the meanders of a path down to the bottom.

If only.

I was wary of snowboarding to begin with for two reasons; one, your feet are bound together by a very hard board. People were given two feet for a reason; it’s easier to balance that way.  Plus they are bound together in a very unnatural way, in a permanent war-like stance, with your feet spread far apart. As if you’re preparing for battle or something.

Two, how the heck do you stop?! There aren’t any brakes on that thing. It’s smooth on the bottom! And what if you’re flying down a mountain with a cliff to your left and you’re trying to avoid other skiers and snowboarders AND it’s a very steep decline?!? There’s only one answer to that question for the inexperienced, first-time snowboarder; you don’t.

Not gracefully at least. As I was finding it very difficult to master the correct way to stop, I took to just plopping my butt down whenever I was going too fast or needed a sudden stop. This technique would often cause a fantastic spray of snow on anyone nearby and would often times involve a great deal of pain to my backside, but it was better than going off the side of the mountain or mowing down the unsuspecting skier/snowboarder. People get quite cranky when you knock them over!

“Thanks for that!” Said a particularly humorless Kiwi woman I knocked from standing position.

As if I enjoy getting jabbed in the gut by your ski poles, lady! It’s not like this isn’t the one millionth time I’ve done this today either. You think you’re tired of falling over?!

Despite the good hour I spent learning what to do on the bunny hill; that was the gist of my entire day. It wasn’t a particularly nice day either, it was overcast and sunless. By the end of the day my hair was drenched from the on-off snow showers and my “water-proof” ski gear, soaked through.

On day two, I elected to attempt to ski instead. This was also for two reasons; one, your feet aren’t connected. And two, you get poles to help you stop. (So I thought)

Sunday was nicer weather-wise times 1 million. The sun was shining and the mountain looked absolutely majestic and inviting. Special thanks go out to my extremely patient ski/snowboarding instructor, Bevan.  To stop, your ski’s should look like a “Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!” To go they should look like “French Fries! French Fries! French Fries!”

So I learned how to ski to the tune of; “French fries, French fr- PIZZA PIZZA PIZZA! Ok, French fries, French fries, Fr-pizza, pizza, PIZZA!!!!”

I actually was doing quite well with skiing and enjoying it a great deal more than snowboarding. Then I decided to go down the mountain.

When you fall while skiing, it makes for a much funnier wipe-out. Your ski’s go every which way and poles go flying through the air. There was even a time I slid right into a snow bank. By doing so I knocked the air out of myself, however, I remained upright!

Unfortunately, because of the exhaustion and havoc I put my body through the day before, I was unable to really get a good grasp on skiing. So, muscles spent and energy used up, I took the chair lift down to the café and enjoyed a beer on the patio in the sun.

Thank the Lord for hot tubs at Ruapehu Christian Camp. The only time I could move a limb without serious aching pain was when I was relaxing in the pools that Sunday evening.

While I can’t claim to be a prodigy at snowboarding and I was too tired to put real effort into skiing, I greatly enjoyed that weekend. And I can say something a lot of American’s can’t; my first time skiing/snowboarding was on a mountain in New Zealand. J

The Little Things

Date: Wednesday July 27^th, 2011

Time: 12:55 pm

Location: Taupo, NZ, The Fox’s living room

I’ve recently discovered that I am a relatively simple human being. I don’t live extravagantly, I will often have the same thing for lunch multiple days in a row, and I require very little from people.

As I sat reading my second Kathy Reichs novel since moving to the Fox’s, I suddenly felt inspired to log my time of relaxation. My legs were thrown over the side of a plush green La-Z-Boy and I had just put another log on the cozy fire. My stomach was recently satiated with two pieces of toast covered with Nutella and the last of the 2 liter of Coke Mrs. Fox had bought for me.

As I prepared my lunch, my mind switched to a novel-like narrative as it often does after I’ve spent long amounts of time reading.

I reluctantly got up from the comfortable sprawl I had accustomed myself to and walked into the kitchen…

I smeared Nutella on my toast considering that the jar was already half-empty and wondering if that was all my doing…

This Saturday will mark two weeks until I return to real life. The pace of my life will quicken as I prepare for my last semester in College and I work extra hours to rebuild my depleting supply of money.

So at this moment, I feel completely content and completely relaxed. And I am so grateful to have this time of simply doing nothing.