We arrived in Christchurch late Tuesday night (bc of our proximity to the international dateline, I will specify that I am writing at around 5pm on Thursday). In contrast with the flight, our trip through customs and immigration was frustrating. They have very strict quarantine precautions to protect the secluded country from outside interference. Their immigration, too, seemed oddly tense. Maybe there is some underground mass movement to infiltrate NZ to steal their Kiwi birds and sheep (which, by the way, outnumber people here by 10 to 1). What bothered my most (I even found myself talking back to an immigration officer, a real traveler's no-no), was not necessarily the strict policies or precautions but the way that the officials treated us, implying that there was something wrong with us for not understanding their procedures (or need to pry into our lives).
Thankfully, our unpleasant encounters with Kiwis seem to have ended at the airport. So far, I've found them friendly and helpful. They are excited to talk about their country but are not arrogant about it. Actually much like Canadians, they seem realistic about its strengths and weaknesses and proud even of its existence. In comparison with what I found to be a slight arrogance in the Aussies, the demeanour of the Kiwis is a welcome change.
Christchurch is really lovely. It is a small city - a population of only 400,000 - and clearly heavily influenced by its British heritage. It is clean and relatively well laid out. It has lots of open public spaces and gardens, including the huge botanical gardens. However, quite simply: it's boring. We covered the downtown core in a morning and have since been searching for things to do.
Tonight we meet with our tour director and co-tourers. We are so hoping that they are not all retirees or at least that our tour director is youngish. But if not, we will as always make the best of it. The tour leaves Christchurch tomorrow morning, heading for Fox Glacier. The next 17 days will be exciting!
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Surf camp and Port Macquarie
First, my apologies for the prolonged absence. The last few weeks have provided little in the way of internet access (or electricity at times). We spent five days at surf camp (Mojo Surf, to be precise) and four days in Port Macquarie, on the east coast of Australia between Sydney and Brisbane.
I do not have much time (I am realizing that this style of traveling doesn't leave much time for prolonged reflection or writing - particularly with the concern of not boring a travel companion), but I will write a bit on each of the last two legs.
First, photos:
Pics from Adelaide:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2136152&l=c8a49&id=1032
Pics from surf camp and Port:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2137523&l=221f5&id=1032
Ok, so now onto some brief reflections on the last two sections of our stay in Australia. Surf camp was interesting. Perhaps it was the purest form of backpacking/roughing it we've done (and will do). The bus picked us up in Sydney (us being Megan and me and 48 of our new closest (or most annoying) friends). Six hours and one surf video later, our coach b us pulled into the surf camp - a true surf shack in the bus a relatively short walk from the beach. No privacy (no real walls to speak of), certainly no electrical outlets, co-ed rooms (shared of course with the bugs), and beds that were tiny mattresses on milk crates. Oh and of course the bathroom (aka the shower block) was a fair ways away and had recently been vacated by a huge python that had temporarily made it its home.
After two days there, we took another long bus ride up to the second location. This time we were at a trailer park right on the water. Drawing the short straw, Meg and I shared a triple bunk (see photo) with another girl in the hallway leading to the trip's sole couple's room. With squeaky beds and being the one who moves a lot during the night, I got the bottom (aka the floor). I didn't sleep very well, but I did get sweet pictures of the sunrise.
The instructors were certainly nice and friendly (particularly toward the many young women among us) and helpful in the waves. They were, however, an unflattering example of what surf culture is like. Some people embraced it, even loved it, encouraged to enjoy toilet humour and party all night. Megan and I didn't take to it quite as freely. I feel as though I got that kind of lifestyle out of my system a fair while ago and have since moved beyond it. Or maybe I'm just too uptight.
Either way, the surfing was great. The beach was amazing and almost completely our own. I managed to ride most of the waves I attempted and was even starting to turn by the end. My poor, blistered hands didn't love it quite as much.
Much in need of some tlc, at the end of the week, we boarded a greyhound after catching it by the side of the road in a tiny town called Woolgoolga and went back south to Port Macquarie. Alex and his brother Philip picked us up there. After the week we'd had, it was unbelievably nice to be in the comfort of a real home with clean beds and friendly faces. Even home cooked meals! For practicality, we were staying down the street with Alex's uncle and aunt (er, uncle's girlfriend) who were incredibly friendly and helpful (the Easter bunny even found us there!). We hung out a lot at Alex's though, enjoying real Aussie meals. They truly live differently - much more outside, much less focused on comfort and luxury, and certainly much less concerned about bugs.
The winery was only a couple of minutes away. An amazing facility right on the highway with a wonderful restaurant and huge cellar door. They have quite an extensive tasting list and trust me, when you're with the owner's sons, you get good treatment.
We went jet skiing in the Pacific, toured the winery, did an extensive tasting, partied during a night out, enjoyed the beach, and even tried body boarding. At this, I realized that in 2008, I have used a snowboard, sandboard, surfboard, and bodyboard. Perhaps now all I need to try is a wakeboard and skateboard. Never really saw myself as a boarder...
We leave this evening to head to New Zealand. Three weeks down, three weeks to go. We are wildly excited for what promises to be a very different and beautiful country.
Au revoir, Australia.
I do not have much time (I am realizing that this style of traveling doesn't leave much time for prolonged reflection or writing - particularly with the concern of not boring a travel companion), but I will write a bit on each of the last two legs.
First, photos:
Pics from Adelaide:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2136152&l=c8a49&id=1032
Pics from surf camp and Port:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2137523&l=221f5&id=1032
Ok, so now onto some brief reflections on the last two sections of our stay in Australia. Surf camp was interesting. Perhaps it was the purest form of backpacking/roughing it we've done (and will do). The bus picked us up in Sydney (us being Megan and me and 48 of our new closest (or most annoying) friends). Six hours and one surf video later, our coach b us pulled into the surf camp - a true surf shack in the bus a relatively short walk from the beach. No privacy (no real walls to speak of), certainly no electrical outlets, co-ed rooms (shared of course with the bugs), and beds that were tiny mattresses on milk crates. Oh and of course the bathroom (aka the shower block) was a fair ways away and had recently been vacated by a huge python that had temporarily made it its home.
After two days there, we took another long bus ride up to the second location. This time we were at a trailer park right on the water. Drawing the short straw, Meg and I shared a triple bunk (see photo) with another girl in the hallway leading to the trip's sole couple's room. With squeaky beds and being the one who moves a lot during the night, I got the bottom (aka the floor). I didn't sleep very well, but I did get sweet pictures of the sunrise.
The instructors were certainly nice and friendly (particularly toward the many young women among us) and helpful in the waves. They were, however, an unflattering example of what surf culture is like. Some people embraced it, even loved it, encouraged to enjoy toilet humour and party all night. Megan and I didn't take to it quite as freely. I feel as though I got that kind of lifestyle out of my system a fair while ago and have since moved beyond it. Or maybe I'm just too uptight.
Either way, the surfing was great. The beach was amazing and almost completely our own. I managed to ride most of the waves I attempted and was even starting to turn by the end. My poor, blistered hands didn't love it quite as much.
Much in need of some tlc, at the end of the week, we boarded a greyhound after catching it by the side of the road in a tiny town called Woolgoolga and went back south to Port Macquarie. Alex and his brother Philip picked us up there. After the week we'd had, it was unbelievably nice to be in the comfort of a real home with clean beds and friendly faces. Even home cooked meals! For practicality, we were staying down the street with Alex's uncle and aunt (er, uncle's girlfriend) who were incredibly friendly and helpful (the Easter bunny even found us there!). We hung out a lot at Alex's though, enjoying real Aussie meals. They truly live differently - much more outside, much less focused on comfort and luxury, and certainly much less concerned about bugs.
The winery was only a couple of minutes away. An amazing facility right on the highway with a wonderful restaurant and huge cellar door. They have quite an extensive tasting list and trust me, when you're with the owner's sons, you get good treatment.
We went jet skiing in the Pacific, toured the winery, did an extensive tasting, partied during a night out, enjoyed the beach, and even tried body boarding. At this, I realized that in 2008, I have used a snowboard, sandboard, surfboard, and bodyboard. Perhaps now all I need to try is a wakeboard and skateboard. Never really saw myself as a boarder...
We leave this evening to head to New Zealand. Three weeks down, three weeks to go. We are wildly excited for what promises to be a very different and beautiful country.
Au revoir, Australia.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Wine Tasting in the Barossa
The close of our time in Adelaide was actually spent in its environs - the nearby wine region of the Barossa Valley, one of Australia's premier wine-making regions. Best-known perhaps as the home of Wolfblass, Penfolds, Jacobs Creek, and Yalumba (Yellow Tail), Barossa is the third wine-making region I have visited this year (Bordeaux and Napa being the previous two), and it proved to be as different from them as they are from each other.
Suffering an incredible heat wave (15 days in a row over 35oC, over 40oC while we were there) and moderate, but long-lasting drought, the whole region was like a desert. Dry, yellow grass covered fields along dusty roads. Thin, thirsty animals grazed some of the fields. The vines, clearly watered, ranged from lush and green - the technical term being vigorous - to sad and suffering. The towns were small and mostly quiet. They seemed to be simple country towns.
There were lots of wineries. So many. Some huge - like Jacobs Creek, the vineyards of which seemed to be everywhere, labelled with large, commercial signs - and some tiny. We did lots of tastings. One that was set up by my wine-business brother, Scott, was at Grant Burge. We got great treatment and tried almost their whole list of potential wines, including some fortifieds. We checked out Wolfblass and Yalumba (where Yellow Tail is made) but bypassed Penfolds. Yaldara actually gave us a semi-cool tour of their cellar. Busy with vintage (the period during which the grapes get picked, pressed, and fermented), most of the wineries were too preoccupied to give tours. Or too self-important.
Traveling with my old travel companion, Alex, Megan and I got to learn so much more about wines. We talked and talked and talked. Well, actually, we mostly asked questions and let Alex do the talking and explaining. And I think we actually got better service at the tastings because the people there could clearly see how much Alex knows about their trade. One place even offered him a job.
A few newly-discovered likes: Semillon-Sauvignon Blanc, Tempranillo (a spanish red), unwooded chardonnay, Shiraz-Viognier, limestone Shiraz, and frontignac (a sweet white grape that can be made either as a table wine or as a dessert wine).
Now we're back in Sydney for one night, hoping to get a good night's sleep before our full five days of surf camp. Surf's up!
Suffering an incredible heat wave (15 days in a row over 35oC, over 40oC while we were there) and moderate, but long-lasting drought, the whole region was like a desert. Dry, yellow grass covered fields along dusty roads. Thin, thirsty animals grazed some of the fields. The vines, clearly watered, ranged from lush and green - the technical term being vigorous - to sad and suffering. The towns were small and mostly quiet. They seemed to be simple country towns.
There were lots of wineries. So many. Some huge - like Jacobs Creek, the vineyards of which seemed to be everywhere, labelled with large, commercial signs - and some tiny. We did lots of tastings. One that was set up by my wine-business brother, Scott, was at Grant Burge. We got great treatment and tried almost their whole list of potential wines, including some fortifieds. We checked out Wolfblass and Yalumba (where Yellow Tail is made) but bypassed Penfolds. Yaldara actually gave us a semi-cool tour of their cellar. Busy with vintage (the period during which the grapes get picked, pressed, and fermented), most of the wineries were too preoccupied to give tours. Or too self-important.
Traveling with my old travel companion, Alex, Megan and I got to learn so much more about wines. We talked and talked and talked. Well, actually, we mostly asked questions and let Alex do the talking and explaining. And I think we actually got better service at the tastings because the people there could clearly see how much Alex knows about their trade. One place even offered him a job.
A few newly-discovered likes: Semillon-Sauvignon Blanc, Tempranillo (a spanish red), unwooded chardonnay, Shiraz-Viognier, limestone Shiraz, and frontignac (a sweet white grape that can be made either as a table wine or as a dessert wine).
Now we're back in Sydney for one night, hoping to get a good night's sleep before our full five days of surf camp. Surf's up!
Thursday, March 13, 2008
An Adelaide Adventure
Short on time, I am going to write quickly, simply. I found Megan easily at Sydney airport and our flight to Adelaide was fine, somewhat in spite of and somewhat because of a gentleman sitting beside me, a flight attendant for another local carrier. Dear Alex kindly picked us up from the airport and took us to our hostel.
Thus the adventure commenced.
Our hostel, Annie's Place, was a disaster. Old. Dirty. Badly run. All this complimented by the full-size black and white model-style photographs of topless people - men and women - covering one entire wall of our room. Needless to say, we sprung into action to find a solution to our newly-formed housing crisis. We had to stay there that night as we had to pay for the room either way. We managed to find and book two spots on a two-day tour leaving the next day for Kangaroo Island, a large island off the coast near Adelaide that has become known for its plethora of wildlife.
The KI tour was amazing. Leaving our luggage with Alex and carrying only what our small backpacks could carry, we caught the bus at 6:30am. We saw some of the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen - made particularly special by the fact that few people have ever set foot on them. We saw tons of koalas, kangaroos, and wallabies. We sat on a beach and were examined by sea lions, including one particularly inquisitive cub. We saw New Zealand fur seals. We witnessed the hectic feeding of some Australian pelicans. And we went sand boarding (think snowboarding on sand but with no boots or bindings, more like a skateboard). Our all-purpose tour guide/driver/chef/expert-on-all-things-KI was great. Not only did this tour solve our accommodation problem, but it was exciting, interesting, and provided experiences I certainly have no expectation of getting any other way.
We crashed on Alex's dorm room floor last night (which left no additional floor space in his sizable-for-one-person room). Today we hit up Glenelg beach in the 43oC Adelaide heat. Now the three of us (Megan and I and Alex as our resident wine expert) are heading out to the Barossa Valley for two days to tour vineyards and sample wines. We certainly had a bit of an adventure, but we've still had fun and seen a lot. Making the best of things!
Thus the adventure commenced.
Our hostel, Annie's Place, was a disaster. Old. Dirty. Badly run. All this complimented by the full-size black and white model-style photographs of topless people - men and women - covering one entire wall of our room. Needless to say, we sprung into action to find a solution to our newly-formed housing crisis. We had to stay there that night as we had to pay for the room either way. We managed to find and book two spots on a two-day tour leaving the next day for Kangaroo Island, a large island off the coast near Adelaide that has become known for its plethora of wildlife.
The KI tour was amazing. Leaving our luggage with Alex and carrying only what our small backpacks could carry, we caught the bus at 6:30am. We saw some of the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen - made particularly special by the fact that few people have ever set foot on them. We saw tons of koalas, kangaroos, and wallabies. We sat on a beach and were examined by sea lions, including one particularly inquisitive cub. We saw New Zealand fur seals. We witnessed the hectic feeding of some Australian pelicans. And we went sand boarding (think snowboarding on sand but with no boots or bindings, more like a skateboard). Our all-purpose tour guide/driver/chef/expert-on-all-things-KI was great. Not only did this tour solve our accommodation problem, but it was exciting, interesting, and provided experiences I certainly have no expectation of getting any other way.
We crashed on Alex's dorm room floor last night (which left no additional floor space in his sizable-for-one-person room). Today we hit up Glenelg beach in the 43oC Adelaide heat. Now the three of us (Megan and I and Alex as our resident wine expert) are heading out to the Barossa Valley for two days to tour vineyards and sample wines. We certainly had a bit of an adventure, but we've still had fun and seen a lot. Making the best of things!
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Reflections on a first stop
So, first, pictures! Here are the Sydney pics:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2135123&l=94f8c&id=1032
Now, a few reflections on Sydney itself. Maybe it's just the beautiful sunshine I've had while here... but Syndey seems like a shining city to me. It seems so clean. In many ways, it reminds me of home - like another Toronto or Vancouver (actually more Vancouver because of its glassy, modern skyscrapers). Many cultures all coexisting in a clean, modern, safe city. The public transit seems reliable and useful. The parks are clean and many. The waterfront beautiful. It has older sections (though old here means Victorian) and newer ones. It has pedestrian thoroughfares. It has a distinctive (and large) Asian population and area. Oh, and it also has homeless people (one of whom I think I saw peeing into a coke bottle on the sidewalk today. I didn't stop to ask him why).
I have relfected also on how I reacted to getting here and being here. Though perhaps it was not entirely obvious, I suffered greatly from jetlag. I am still adjusting to the time change, and I am only now getting any semblance of an appetite back. I found myself fatigued and disoriented, no more sure of where I was than what day it was (what day IS IT??). So that part was tougher than I anticipated. In the past I have shrugged off this thing people refer to as "jetlag."
I was also homesick. Yes, I know most people would have been bursting with excitement at the chance to visit Sydney. But simple, routine-oriented, comfort-seeking me sort of just wanted to go home. Home to my bed, home to my parents, home to my friends and the life that makes sense to me. But that, like the jetlag, is fading. I am adjusting, accepting. I wanted this year to be a challenge; I wanted my five days alone in Sydney to be a challenge. I got my wish and I think learned and grew from it.
I have enjoyed my time in Sydney and its environs. But I am done. Ready for my next stop. Tomorrow, Megan arrives and we fly to Adelaide. Good bye, Sydney; I hardly knew ye.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2135123&l=94f8c&id=1032
Now, a few reflections on Sydney itself. Maybe it's just the beautiful sunshine I've had while here... but Syndey seems like a shining city to me. It seems so clean. In many ways, it reminds me of home - like another Toronto or Vancouver (actually more Vancouver because of its glassy, modern skyscrapers). Many cultures all coexisting in a clean, modern, safe city. The public transit seems reliable and useful. The parks are clean and many. The waterfront beautiful. It has older sections (though old here means Victorian) and newer ones. It has pedestrian thoroughfares. It has a distinctive (and large) Asian population and area. Oh, and it also has homeless people (one of whom I think I saw peeing into a coke bottle on the sidewalk today. I didn't stop to ask him why).
I have relfected also on how I reacted to getting here and being here. Though perhaps it was not entirely obvious, I suffered greatly from jetlag. I am still adjusting to the time change, and I am only now getting any semblance of an appetite back. I found myself fatigued and disoriented, no more sure of where I was than what day it was (what day IS IT??). So that part was tougher than I anticipated. In the past I have shrugged off this thing people refer to as "jetlag."
I was also homesick. Yes, I know most people would have been bursting with excitement at the chance to visit Sydney. But simple, routine-oriented, comfort-seeking me sort of just wanted to go home. Home to my bed, home to my parents, home to my friends and the life that makes sense to me. But that, like the jetlag, is fading. I am adjusting, accepting. I wanted this year to be a challenge; I wanted my five days alone in Sydney to be a challenge. I got my wish and I think learned and grew from it.
I have enjoyed my time in Sydney and its environs. But I am done. Ready for my next stop. Tomorrow, Megan arrives and we fly to Adelaide. Good bye, Sydney; I hardly knew ye.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
A lot of Sydney and a lot of thoughts
Today I walked. And walked. And walked and walked and walked. After a morning that is becoming startlingly routine, I set out from my hostel at around 9am. I walked through a very quiet Saturday-morning downtown to the old Sydney Observatory, a building as typically Victorian as so many are here. From there I walked through an older part of Sydney set in the shadow of the imposing Harbour Bridge, through a weekend market, and along the waterfront where tourists scurried around trying to find the right ferry to get them to wherever. I took my time exploring the Opera House. It is a strange building in a strange location, set apart from the rest of the city. The most notable aspect not otherwise appreciable in pictures is the quality of the exterior - the white is not solid but much more like the scales of a fish.
Anyhow, from there I continued along the waterfront through Sydney's immense Royal Botanical Gardens, acres and acres of prime, downtown, waterfront land set aside to preserve the natural beauty of the land. And what beauty it has. Trees and flowers and birds of kinds I've never before seen. And it was such a beautiful day.
After winding my way through the gardens, I walked through Hyde Park and what turned out to be some sort of feminist gathering (including some people who were apparently pushing for rights for sex workers with the slogan "Give 'piece' a chance"). Though tired, I pushed myself further, walking what turned out to be quite far to Kings Cross. Finding a seedy and busy area, I peaked around a bit and got out of there. I'll tell you, by the end of it I was exhausted. I finally got back to my hostel, put my feet up in a tiny bit of sun I found, and read.
I reflected a lot in my wanderings. It is natural to think about the city around me. First of all, I've come to believe that buildings here fall into one of three categories: Victorian, art deco, or utterly modern (typically glass skyscrapers). Other than the fact that Australia was founded and came of age under Queen Victoria, I have no good theories for why this type of pattern exists. I have also found that Sydney seems to have a wonderful waterfront. Someone deserves some credit for that (particularly from the perspective of the disappointing but full-of-potential waterfront in Toronto).
I have also been pondering something else today. I asked my one-day friend Emily yesterday which flags she'd seen displayed on people's bags. In her month of traveling and my few days, we both agreed that we had only seen Canadian flags on bags. It seems that no other nationalities choose to display their flag so proudly. I've seen a fair number of good ol' maple leafs. Despite the prevalence of Brits, I haven't seen any Union Jacks. No Stars and Stripes either. The reason I find this interesting is because as Canadians we often chide ourselves for not being sufficiently patriotic, certainly not as jingoistic and flag-waving as our southern neighbours. But maybe our self-criticism is misguided. Maybe we aren't that patriotic at home. Maybe we don't feel that we need to be. But I have yet to meet a Canadian abroad who isn't proud of being Canadian . There are even some Americans who put Canadian flags on their bags when they travel. We must have something pretty amazing if we're comfortable enough with our country at home simply to live in it while displaying our flag proudly when we're elsewhere. At least, that's my hope.
Anyhow, from there I continued along the waterfront through Sydney's immense Royal Botanical Gardens, acres and acres of prime, downtown, waterfront land set aside to preserve the natural beauty of the land. And what beauty it has. Trees and flowers and birds of kinds I've never before seen. And it was such a beautiful day.
After winding my way through the gardens, I walked through Hyde Park and what turned out to be some sort of feminist gathering (including some people who were apparently pushing for rights for sex workers with the slogan "Give 'piece' a chance"). Though tired, I pushed myself further, walking what turned out to be quite far to Kings Cross. Finding a seedy and busy area, I peaked around a bit and got out of there. I'll tell you, by the end of it I was exhausted. I finally got back to my hostel, put my feet up in a tiny bit of sun I found, and read.
I reflected a lot in my wanderings. It is natural to think about the city around me. First of all, I've come to believe that buildings here fall into one of three categories: Victorian, art deco, or utterly modern (typically glass skyscrapers). Other than the fact that Australia was founded and came of age under Queen Victoria, I have no good theories for why this type of pattern exists. I have also found that Sydney seems to have a wonderful waterfront. Someone deserves some credit for that (particularly from the perspective of the disappointing but full-of-potential waterfront in Toronto).
I have also been pondering something else today. I asked my one-day friend Emily yesterday which flags she'd seen displayed on people's bags. In her month of traveling and my few days, we both agreed that we had only seen Canadian flags on bags. It seems that no other nationalities choose to display their flag so proudly. I've seen a fair number of good ol' maple leafs. Despite the prevalence of Brits, I haven't seen any Union Jacks. No Stars and Stripes either. The reason I find this interesting is because as Canadians we often chide ourselves for not being sufficiently patriotic, certainly not as jingoistic and flag-waving as our southern neighbours. But maybe our self-criticism is misguided. Maybe we aren't that patriotic at home. Maybe we don't feel that we need to be. But I have yet to meet a Canadian abroad who isn't proud of being Canadian . There are even some Americans who put Canadian flags on their bags when they travel. We must have something pretty amazing if we're comfortable enough with our country at home simply to live in it while displaying our flag proudly when we're elsewhere. At least, that's my hope.
Friday, March 7, 2008
A walk and a one-day friend
Today I went with a guide from the hostel and a group of fellow hostelers on a walk from Coogee Beach to Bondi Beach. It was about 6 miles or so but took us about 2.5 hours because of much stopping along the way. It is a seaside walk that is mostly along cliffs and beaches. Each little cove seemed to have its own little beach. And of course each beach had its own locals, its own scene. Oh, and its own "Surf Life Savers Club." Very cute.
It was stunningly beautiful (though it was cloudy). The ocean here seems so much bluer than at home. Some places a deep, dark blue, and in others more of a light aquamarine. It crashes up on the rocks with such force. It reminded me a lot of a brief drive I took along California Route 1 some time ago.
In contrast to the blue of the water, the plants are so so green and the flowers so bright. It seems at times like it must be a tropical paradise. It certainly isn't reminsicent of the water-starved, desert-like outback that most of us picture as Australia (and is, in reality, about 80% of the continent).
I walked with Emily. I noticed that she was alone as we were leaving the hostel so I struck up a conversation. With great conversation, we stayed together the whole day. She is from California and after graduating from nursing she enlisted in the Navy. Among her years as an officer, she served in Iraq as a trauma nurse for six months. Now that she has been decomissioned (though remains in the reserves) she is taking six months and traveling from NZ (where she already spent a month), through Australia, Asia, and finally Europe. She was smart and thoughtful. What an interesting walking mate. It was so nice to have someone to talk to. She leaves to travel up the east coast tomorrow. So at the end of our day, I said good bye forever to my one-day friend.
It was stunningly beautiful (though it was cloudy). The ocean here seems so much bluer than at home. Some places a deep, dark blue, and in others more of a light aquamarine. It crashes up on the rocks with such force. It reminded me a lot of a brief drive I took along California Route 1 some time ago.
In contrast to the blue of the water, the plants are so so green and the flowers so bright. It seems at times like it must be a tropical paradise. It certainly isn't reminsicent of the water-starved, desert-like outback that most of us picture as Australia (and is, in reality, about 80% of the continent).
I walked with Emily. I noticed that she was alone as we were leaving the hostel so I struck up a conversation. With great conversation, we stayed together the whole day. She is from California and after graduating from nursing she enlisted in the Navy. Among her years as an officer, she served in Iraq as a trauma nurse for six months. Now that she has been decomissioned (though remains in the reserves) she is taking six months and traveling from NZ (where she already spent a month), through Australia, Asia, and finally Europe. She was smart and thoughtful. What an interesting walking mate. It was so nice to have someone to talk to. She leaves to travel up the east coast tomorrow. So at the end of our day, I said good bye forever to my one-day friend.
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