Dave,
NZ cried when you left, for 3 days straight...the gods were sad that you had gone, which means that you must come back. So 2011 it is...ha!
It rained sat, sun, and monday. We were not even able to get on the glaciers which only happens maybe 3 times a year, and a small town in the north had the worst flooding in like 26 years. It cleared for us finally on tuesday so we got a good day out on Abel TAsman, but the whole drive up the west coast was socked in and grey...so it goes.
Took a look at the blog, good stuff, you're fun to read.
Hope CO is treating you well. take care, mate. ha!
But before i go on, Ashley reminds me to disclose the tail of the "Angie Episode." I dont see it published in the blog yet, so i feel that I must do that before I forget anymore of it..... So rewind to Gili Meno, it was the third (?) night of five on Gili Meno, the sweet little island off Lombok (500 residents). Gili, you will recall, is the place that restored our faith in people in general, and redeemed Indonesia in our eyes. And we had met a local who defriended us named Bar. We were out late the previous night (or late for old geezers like myself), and we were both tired and agreed to make an early night. After our late dinner, I left Ange and Bar at the Bar for one drink before hittin the sack, and Ange was like, "yeah just one drink, and an early night for me." Since I dont drink no more, I said, see ya later, and went off to bed.
I awoke at some later hour, probably to the stench of burning rubbish from next door, and Ange wasnt home yet. I looked at the time, I dont now recall what time it was except that it seemed late for an "early evening."
I lay there in bed, and thought, "Ange is a big girl who can take care of herself. ... Just go back to sleep, dave, she is all right. ... She's traveled all over the world, and knows how to take care of herself. Dave, go to sleep! ... Where the hell is she? ... sleep, Sleep, SLEEP! ... What has happened to Ange?"
Afte a half hour or so of that, my mind is going into overdrive, and I can see Bar (who obviously rather fancied Angie) with all his buddies at his bar.... I cant re-think it....
Angie is sweet and loving and caring and happy and the world would be a much better place if there was more Angela Morgan Booths in it. (Think Bubbles from the Power Puff Girls, her alter-ego.) She easily makes new friends, because, hey, what is not to like? So Ange is also faithful, dedicated and determined, and she and Jay are, well you know, pratically married and all, and she told the reality of her situation to Bar as soon as it was clear that he really liked Angie (and was hanging around with us because of Angie) more so than me.
He and all his friends got really drunk, all 10 of his hard drinking bar buddies.... All of them enthralled with the blonde haired beauty, and .....
OK now I Can Not go back to sleep, and start thinking about what I gotta do.... Contact Dian; ask her to help get the US state department in action. There are no local police on Gili Meno. Who are the authorities....
How could I have just left her with all these drunk guys? ... Jay is going to kill me.... Andy (her brother, also lives in CB) is going to kill me....
By now, I have to go search for angie's beaten and broken body.
So Gili Meno is small. Among one of the densest populations on earth, there are only 500 people living on it. you can walk all the way around it in about 2 hours. There is only one direct path from our "bungalow resort" to the only bar on the island, which is where Bar works, and where they would be drinking. So I head down the path, just knowing that I would run into them before too long....
I get to the bar, and there is no Ange, there is no Bar .... One of the 9 or so guys (the staff at the bar/restaurant sitting around laughing and carrying on) there asks, "Can I help you?" (or the equivalent in english is my second language.) I say, "Where is Bar?" "Bar's closed." "No," i demand, "where is Bar the person?"
"Oh!... He went that way," pointing from where I had just come from. I'm like seriously getting worked up by this point, "Did he have a girl with him?"
"Yeah, yeah, ... they went that way," again pointing right up the very path I had walked down. I think I said something else to the only drunk guy who was paying any attention to me, something not nice like, "you better not be lying to me."
So, I start back up the path towards our bungalow resort in a near panic now, and decide that I need to go back along the beach. That is the other relatively direct route that they could take from the bar to our bungalow. The path parallels the beach, but in a few places there are some trees/bushes that obscure the view to the beach. It is still possible that I missed her and Bar on the beach somewhere in between bar and bungalow.
Now I am walking along the beach, headlamp in hand, its beam sweeping under the branches of the trees along the edge of the beach. I get back to our bungalow resort and think, "well, she has to be in the room." I approach our bungalow, but alas, there is no light on it (the windows are wide open as it never dips below 31 C, and we want whatever breeze may come our way), and as I get to the front porch, I can hear inside . . .
Full Panic!! It is quiet as a tomb! There is nobody in the bungalow! I let out a "What the fuck!"
I am instantly relieved when I hear Angie's voice reply, puzzled, "David?" She and Bar had indeed returned via the beach, and I indeed missed them in one of the very few spots where I could not see the beach from the trail. She had got back to the room, thought I was sleeping, and was creeping around as silent as a mouse, not turning on any light, or using her headlamp, so as not to wake me!
"Jeezus, Angie dont scare me like that," i blurt out. "You were really worried about me?" angie askes. "Yes..." then i spilled all of the nightmare scenarios of what might have been, simply because her one drink had (obviously) turned into many.
"Oh no, nothing like that... your so sweet to be worried," and other such. "No we were looking at the phosporessensse in the sea! Come look, it will make you feel better!" Obviously quite a bit more than one.
We go look at the green glow in the tide as the waves crash on the beach... It is lovely. Angie tells the story of how first off, they poured her a large one to begin with, and when she was done with it someone else had already poured her another one, etc, ad nauseum.
The next day, when Bar learned of the story, he was all, "You thought I could do what?! But Angie is such a big girl, and I am so small!" Which is true, they are probably about the same height, and she probably does out weigh him .... Ange is a burly Crested Butte Mountain Girl who can run up mountains and ski down them; plus, she's captain of the women's hockey team and a hockey referree, soo .... Why was I ever worried in the first place?
SO that is the "Angie Episode." Thanks Ashley for the good reminder!
Now, where was I? Right, I had tried and botched yet another picture perfect moment on the trip: I missed the killer avalanche on Mt Cook. (Like i missed the monkeys doin it on the side of the road, and the sweet little girl's smile from the truck/"school bus" on the ride accross Lombok.)
So Mt Cook was super cool. I arrived about 12:50, and after the hike, got lunch at the restaurant Liz recommended, and left the Park around 4 PM
As I drive towards Lake Tekapo back in New Zealand's miniature Colorado plateau-type landscape, it is very windy. The vanette is acting like it is going uphill the whole time (even though it and the gas needle drops at a steady pace. Every now and then a variable gust comes along and bats the little vannette around. Every so often I climb something that looks just like a dyke in Holland. But instead of it holding water back, it is a conveyance, a very wide ditch hauling a massive amount of the turquoise glacier melt water from the Lakes to irrigate the farms/tree farms in this central dry area of New Zealand.
So I stop in Lake Tekapo the town at the base of Lake Tekapo, another one of these enormous turquoise lake. Opposite are yet more of the impressive Southern Alps, and I get gas and take pictures. There is a cute, old, one room sized church made of stone on the shore of the lake, and further down the coast, there is a dog statue (looks a little bit like Skunkers), commemorating all those sheep dogs that helped the white man tame this dry area of New Zealand into sheep farms. But I had to wait a bit to get my picture as at the monument was David from Wellington, and unknown (he did the talking) who was a native of Christchurch. They had been overseas for a couple of years, and were re-aquainting themselves with their home country. Christchurch got a picture of himself sitting on the dog sculpture to immitate a similar picture his parents had of him as a child on the same statue. He did a really good impression of how the sheepherder talks to his dogs, "Hey, yo Queenie, hup, who-how" with a fair amount of short whistles thrown in. It was quite humorous, and made me think that this guy could easily be an actor the way his whole tone changed and how deeply he committed himself to the "sheep-cowboy" personality. They tell me that this part of New Zealand, Aorangi, is usually very hot and dry, yep a regular desert. Doesnt surprise me at all. After all it was hot today, first day I was really hot wearing a t-shirt in NZ. They hop back into their car with a cheerful, "enjoy the counry" and take off.
Anyway, as I left the shores of the Lake, I took what I hope will turn out as a great picture of the ubiquitous tour bus disgorging its contents of Japanese tourists, snapping away, for what could possibly sum up New Zealand more than tour buses full of Japanese tourists?
At this point, I am tired and realize that I will not be meeting Gen in Christchurch tonight, and decide to spend the night in Geraldine. Now that I have decided to stay in Gerladine, a new song haunts me as I climb out of the town of Lake Tekapo back onto the high, windy plane. Its the tune of Joleen again, my "happy" song in asia, (and Joleen naturally despised in Tonga), but substitute "Gerladine" for Joleen. And i am happily making up lyrics to the tune, "Geraldine, Gerladine, Geraldine, Geraldine. 98 kilometers to go, before I can take a shower." or "please have an internet cafe so i can charge it to my credit card. Because I dont have enough coin to feed to that kiosk."
So Lake Tekapo is set down low off the high, dry, brown (green only by use of copious amounts of the glacial turquoise water), windy plain, made the town pretty nice. Out of the wind there were trees, and the Lake with the Mountains behind, and obviously not very wet here at all. Not only was the landscape so very like the American west, but that town, too seemed very American. Not much to it except for several gasoline stations, and some strip malls along the highway. Unremarkable. Yep, very American it felt.
Once back up on the windswept plain, it was quite windy again, and the vanette continued its flat-feels-like-uphill-climb along the plain. The only hint that I am still in New Zealand vs the US are the different road signs, "give way" instead of "yeild" and that I am driving on the wrong side of the road. There is even wagon wheels on gates in the ranch fences. It is so windy that my closed door with windows all rolled up sounds like the tornado in the Wizard of Oz.
But before too long, as I approach the brown mountains, the landscape once again changes dramatically. I enter cloudy, mountainous terrain, and climb Burke's Pass along another "Scenic Reserve." I love that they call what i presume is public land not part of a Park or "Natural Area" a "Scenic Reserve." It is interesting that the landscape I envision as ideal for America consists of cities dense and tall like asian cities, and vast areas of undeveloped countryside as "Natural Reserves."
The pass is not long up and much further down on the back side than going up. Sure enough, that was a high plain, very much like the Colorado plateau, escept of course that it is much. much smaller. And I am now dropping down into green farms, green tree farms, more typical new zealand landscape, singing my Geraldine song (and having a lot of fun with it) and drive into Fairlee, which looks all the world like any ol' POS town in Texas like Menard or Post. Bowl me over again, New Zealand has a texan landscape, too? I have to stop and take pictures.
Geraldine, however, is a cute little town with a delightful campervan park that is set in a park with huge trees, etc. And I have a good night feeding coins into the kiosk and posting some of the blog, etc. I get a nice nights sleep, but again wake up ridiculously early and get all sad about this being my last morning in New Zealand. The two songs stuck in my head this morning is Don Henley's song about the last xyz, and Billy Joel's My Life. I take a nice shower, and leave the campervan park to find a nice place for a big, real breakfast.
As I reflect and look back at the trip, it is amazing to me how many things worked out so perfectly. The weather, incremental at best, was always seemingly perfect for my planned activity: Queen Charlotte Sound in the sun, the west coast in the sun (a very rare event I am told), Fiordland with both rain for waterfalls and in sun to see the mountaintops with fresh snow. Beautiful in Queenstown. My longest drive across country from Qtown to Geraldine was bright and clear. That landscape was so familiar that I booked across it (instead of the constant stopping and picture taking that characterized the rest of the driving) and got to spend a long time at Mt Cook, while still making it plenty close enough for my 12:00 noon vanette return.
And what a country! So many different kinds of landscapes, and they come fast and furious, one on top of the other. What great people. Charming and nice and friendly. I really, truly do love New Zealand. I really want to come back to New Zealand. I really want to do the tramps while I am able. And Kaharungi, I cant get it out of my head. That place really sunk its claws into me, and I saw just barely a tiny bit of it . . . . even after everything else, that part of the country, around Nelson still has a strong appeal to me.
And I laugh at myself, the strange evergreen trees that are all bushy and in such apparent order, because they were! Pruned up, evenly spaced tree farms. And me taking all these pictures of the "evil alien invaders" the pretty lupine and lillies that are merely the countries invasive foreign weeds!
I find an outstanding cup of chocolate and a great breakfast at a coffee shop with a lovely garden dining area out front. They have the coolest painting on the wall. A landscape with one of the sheep herder cowboys, done in a very painterly way. I track down the name of the local artist, and his web site. Look into the gallery that has two other of his paintings in the window, and leave town for the short 2 hour drive to Grant's Ascot motors in Christchurch.I make it there without incident (stopped once for directions, "Oh you are quite close it is just back there a couple blocks, and then one block to the left.") and as they are checking me out of the vanette, Gen pulls up in her rental car.
Her trip to Stewart Island sounded at least partially successful, but she did not get to see the elusive Kiwi bird, one of the main reasons she went to Stewart Island (that and there are only 420 residents on that quite large island; it would probably take well over a week to walk all the way around it). While we spent the day in Christchurch we went into a small aquarium that also had a "kiwi house," something like a very big gerbil cage where a pair of kiwis are kept. So she did get to see these funny birds with no wings and very long beaks. They looked pretty muppet-ish, a funny squat round body on these two stubby fat legs, with a lumpy head attached to an improbably long and thin beak. No wonder they were thought to be a hoax when whites first discovered skeletons of them. But the little bugger moved very fast when he ran on those little squat legs, again the memory reminds me of the road runner cartoon.
Gen took me to the airport and I started my 27 hour return home. Christchurch to Aukland, Aukland to LA, LA to Houston. So I get to LA by 1:30Pm the same day I left Aukland, the same day I left Geraldine and saw the Kiwi ... gaining several hours for crossing the dateline. My original flight on Continental was for the next day at 11AM. After clearing customs, I went over to Continental, and tried (unsuccessfully) to fly stand-by that same day to Houston. Now that Ivan has moved to Vancouver, I dont have any friends in LA anymore, why should i spend a whole day there? The supervisor tells me the problem is that Frontier issued the ticket so Continental cant do anything with it. Plus its an eticket. So i go to frontier and they are about to send me to Houston routed thru Denver, when the current departing flight to Denver is cancelled because somebody ran into the airplane with some big piece of equipment. No room for Dave. I call over to Southwest and they want me to pay $405 for a walk-up one way ticket to Houston. Eventually the super nice Frontier ticket counter lady prints me out a paper ticket and says, "maybe Continental can do something with this ticket, because now this is like money, dont loose it!"
I take it back to Continental, and the guy I already spent 1 + 1/2 hours arguing with sees me coming, rolls his eyes, and disappears into the back room. I patiently stand in a line of one, me, and wait for a new women to finish her 42 keystrokes with long pauses in between at her computer then calls me over. I lay out the entire sob story to her (again, as this is the fourth time today). Thai cancelled my flight. They sent me back home a day early from my vacation. I am just rying to get home after 6 weeks abroad. Cant you please help me?
She checks my facts (confirmed that Thai indeed cancelled my flight tomorrow), prints me out a stand-by ticket, checks in my bags (no charges for 2 bags let alone 1), and after only 2 1/2 hours of effort, I am thru security and something like #7 on the stand-by list for a full flight to Houston that leaves at 5:30PM. I am the last person on the airplane, as they bump the guys whose seat I fill into first class. Sweet seat too, as it is the first row in economy and the wall provides something like an extra foot of space.
So now here I am in Houston, and it has been a long, happy thanksgiving week with my family -- Mom, Dad, and sister Elise all live here, with niece Camille and nephew Alex. Before t-day, Mom, Dad and I go down to corpus, rent a u-haul truck and pack up the big art pieces, and some of the more fragile/valuable items from their condo to bring back to Houston. They are officially moving from Corpus and are going to live full time in Houston. As I drive the ridiculously over-sized truck out of Corpus on wednesday, I am treated to a stunning sunset over the Aransas Wildlife Preserve. In the faling twilight the sunlight reflects on the occasionaly squiggle of the plowed rows of the rich dark earth of the coastal plain. And there are a number of raptors who come and settle atop the powerline posts along the side of the road, scanning the highway for fresh roadkill an easy supper, compliments of the 70 MPH speedlimit and us motorists. Several saunter up in a cozy-up-to-the-bar type of way, as if saying to each other, "hey george, how's the missus today?" So there is beauty everywhere on this planet, even along the flat texas coast. I wish I had my camera as I pass a big cell phone tower absolutely covered with black birds, and again later as I pass one of the few red leafed trees along the road. (Fall in south texas doesnt really have colors like elsewhere in the world. Most of the trees still have some green on them, and leafs kinda go from green to off, skipping the whole color part.)
Corpus was a big rush. I saw Aunt Lou. I talked on the phone with Ashley, and I got to visit for about 2 hours on Tuesday night with Reagan, his parents, and Alissa Brown (McCoy)-- my childhood friends from down the street. I hadnt seen Alissa since high school age, and it was a kick to meet her, her nice husband and three adorable kids. It was a night of rememberances. I also did OFP work that would normally take several days, late at night after I gave up packing things, or in quick jaunts away during the day to run necessary day-time errands. So it was a non-stop in Corpus, very tiring.
Today, 1 December, we went and looked at my parents new condo at 2727 Kirby, a 30 story residential condo building that is sah-wank. It looks to be about 3 months from completion (top two floors still need to be enclosed -- parents unit on 13 at the sheetrock stage.) Tomorrow, I return to Colorado after 8 weeks of being away. So that is the trip...alltogethernow....
Signing off for good (for now, at least)
Newo (knee-whoa) out!
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