Signs Vol. 2

I haven't been travelling that much recently. As I've now mentioned a few times, the holiday-less, sunless winter in New Zealand is a time when people (pretend to) work hard. But remember back when I was travelling and had a ton of pictures to show for it?

I have a slight aversion to taking photos on a hike or when in a unique/novel location; it's not a phobia of screen addiction, more so that it adds a staged affect to whatever event or view is being captured. For some reason when it comes to signs, I do not feel this way. Maybe it's because the sign is already stationary and staged in such a way that feels less wrong to take a photo of. Maybe I'm just crazy.

Back by popular demand (or is it by my demand to be popular?), here is the second installment of interesting/confusing/funny signs from my various travels around New Zealand, Sydney and Singapore.

New Zealand signs can be pretty descriptive, 

Basically, Piha is a death trap where anything (rocks, cliffs, holes, and water) can kill you.
And there is no shelter or heat allowed.

Good gory detail. "How can we best show non-English speakers this will kill all that is beautiful and good in the world?"

Rabbit murder field ahead.

though often cryptic.

All the best car thieves go through the windshield to get your valuables? 

Going straight from P to R?

And sometimes they just ask too much.

No, you wash car today.

In Sydney:

Sydney - where street crossing requires a more formal dress code.

I'm not mad at the tree, I'm just disappointed.

In Singapore, the signs are noticeably different. While signs in America or NZ can be specific or nonsensical, in Singapore it seems to be ramped up a bit. I can't be certain of the direct cause of this, but I would guess it's related to Singapore's almost but not quite police state (Did you know that Singapore still uses corporal caning as a punishment for offences as minor as vandalism?). 

In any case, the signs in Singapore are woefully overdone, much in the same way that the architecture, shopping malls, public transportation, and (I guess) corporal punishment are overdone...

Public toilets are only for the fanciest people, though I truthfully have no idea how she will do her business with that dress.

In cities/countries not named Singapore, most of these would be guidelines.
Here they are cartoon imperatives.

This one is even better. I particularly like the dog with the giant head and the idea that people would be carrying and releasing tiny turtles. 

Yeah this is the same picture as above, that's how much I like it.
"Don't do anything!"

Ever wondered if Singapore has a celebrity-obsessed culture like the rest of the world?
Well wonder no more!

So it seems all places have strange ways of communicating their very strange laws, rules, and warnings. 

Cheers!

Bonus:

Street art in Auckland often provokes double-takes.

Know your memes, people. 

Interactive signs can be fun too.

Madison Zoo, day 15 - The locals still do not know of our intrusion.

Scott's Place

As an American, with all my biases and background, I've written in the past about differences between the USA and NZ - differences in language, food, language about food, and signage, for example. Another one that I have briefly mentioned is public holidays. In the USA (government workers not included), there are 8 days in the whole year considered to be universally public holidays. On the other hand, New Zealand has a lot of summer loaded holidays:  mandatory breaks around Christmas (Eve, Day, and Boxing Day), New Year's (Eve, Day, Day after New Year's Day), Auckland Anniversary Day (other cities in NZ have their own day), Waitangi Day, Easter (Friday and Monday), and ANZAC Day. That's 11 public holidays in the span of 88 working days, meaning once every 8 weekdays is free over the New Zealand summer.

I could imagine a person coming to work in New Zealand for that roughly 6 month period, leaving, and thinking that it is the easiest place in the world to work. However, with all these front-loaded public holidays comes a price - between early June and late October, there are no publicly-sanctioned days off. Incidentally, this is when New Zealand days are shortest, darkest, dampest, and coldest. It's as if the huddled masses are accepting their fates:  putting their noses back to the proverbial grindstone, stocking up on stocks for soup, plugging their electric blankets back in, and dreaming of the next time they can fly to one of the (relatively) nearby Pacific islands for a little sun.

The last holiday before the full dreariness-mode is activated is the first Monday of June, known as Queen's Birthday. This is a celebration by Commonwealth countries of the monarch's birthday. It is archaic and mostly pointless, but it give Kiwis one last chance to get out of the city for the weekend before winter truly arrives.

Rhiannon and I chose Raglan, which dubs itself the 'jewel of the Waikato,' as our destination. It's known as a mecca for surfers in New Zealand, and is only about 2 hours drive south and west of Auckland, so getting there is relatively simple. We packed up Rhiannon's delightfully small silver Honda Civic hatchback, and cruised down on a sunny Saturday afternoon. Our intended accommodation for the weekend we found on AirBnb, simply titled "Scott's Place."

Scott's Place, located in the Waitetuna Valley 15 minutes east of Raglan, is strange. Before diving into the photo evidence, here's a brief bullet-pointed list of just a few of the strange things we encountered:

• When we first arrived, we were greeted by some guy named Dave from Hamilton. He was also staying at Scott's Place while Scott was away and had the task of showing us around a place he didn't really know.
• He proceeded to tell us that he and Scott had gone down to the (presumably frigid) stream to do some breathing exercises earlier in the day, during which Scott repeatedly submerged Dave for some reason.
• After dinner and drinks in Raglan and returning back to Scott's Place for the night, Rhiannon came upon two massive dogs, a child, and a man dressed in a too-tight frog onesie. Guess which one was Scott.
• Also staying at Scott's Place were several German WWOOFers (read:  Rammstein loving surfer hippies), who were...
• by chance hosting a Viking-themed party that night. We were invited. 
• Viking party here means one or two guys wearing eyeliner.
• There was a female in the kitchen baking three cakes simultaneously. Her name was Forest.
• The party continued after we went to sleep in our cabin. The next morning Dave peeled out of the drive without even saying 'Good morning' or 'Hello'. Something very strange must have happened to him in the night. Poor Dave.

Now some photo-documentation.

"HEY THIS IS THE REFRIGERATOR GOT ANY HONEY???!!!"

Rhiannon and Shy Life-sized Panda share one of the many leather chairs.

Guitar and drum circle. Trying so hard to fit in.

I think I'm really fitting in now.

Overly friendly and overly massive pig outside our door in the morning. Kind of terrifying.

Not terrible. Just weird. Ultimately Rhiannon and I decided not to stay there for a second night. The real kicker was how cold the cabins were. I'm guessing the overnight temperature outside was about 4 or 5 degrees C. This meant that our cabin (4 pieces of aluminum, some laminated flooring, and a single sliding glass door) was also 4 or 5 degrees. Not comfortable. Not romantic. If you feel like reading my my AirBnb review of Scott's Place, please scroll to the bottom**. It's a little harsh.

But before we headed back to Auckland, tail between our legs, we decided to actually spend some time in the Raglan area. As per usual, I coerced both Rhiannon and myself into doing a pretty optimistic hike, this time to summit of an ancient coastal volcano known as Karioi. The 4 hour up and back track was steep, slippery, muddy, and often a little disorienting, but it made for truly spectacular views of Raglan, the coast, and the surrounding valleys.

Exceptionally calm and sunny day for the beginning of winter.

Raglan and its coastal estuary off in the distance. Mountain peak destination to the right.

The rolling farmland of the many valleys between Raglan and Hamilton.

The summit - that moment during a hike when everyone briefly wishes for a zipline directly back to their car.

That horse in the distance did not move once during the final 45 minute descent. My best guess is that it's still there to this day. What an existential crisis it must be going through.

Survived both Scott's Place and the hike! Not pictured - wobbly, tired knees.

Goodbye sun. See you in October...

Cheers!


Bonus:  A (mostly American) sugary cereal and pajama party I hosted a few weekends ago:

The future generation of diabetic American children don't know how nice they have it.
Most of these cereals had to be purchased at an American import store.

There were also balloons. Here I suffer from sugar-induced coma.

**My harshest ever AirBnb review:

My partner and I stayed at Scott's Place over Queen's Birthday weekend. We arrived and were greeted by Dave, a Hamiltonian also staying at Scott's Place for the weekend. It was not until late that night that I actually met Scott, and he did not inquire about the state of the cabin we were staying in or really host us in any way.

The cabin itself was small and cozy, but not in a warm sense. There is absolutely no insulation inside the cabins, so they experience the exact same temperature as the pig that will be snuffing and snorting outside your door in the morning experiences.

Scott's Place, itself, has the many amenities promised on his page, and is quite a unique place to hang out. We were sharing the space with a large group of strangers who were hosting a viking themed party, which sounds amazing and fun until you realize that you can't escape the party unless you want to freeze to death in your cabin.

We did not stay a second night as we had originally intended, and I'm pretty sure Scott had no idea...

It's essentially a hippie abode, which is fine if you are traveling with 6 other hippies (like his other guests seemed to be). But nothing on Scott's page fully hinted at this. I would also add that his 'cabins' are too cold in New Zealand winter and should not be hosting anyone unless he increases the insulation in them.

note - To Scott's credit, on his AirBnb page he has responded to my critique by adding heaters to the cabins...

Transpacific: Part 3 - Singapore

I'm guessing most people would not expect Chicago to Hong Kong nonstop to be a real flight. It's kind of surprising. I mean, not only does it cross the entire Pacific Ocean, but it also starts from the middle of the USA, which is not that small. Interestingly, it doesn't even crack the top 30 longest flights by distance currently commercially operated (note that the Sydney to Dallas I did is the second longest flight, so yeah). 

Rest assured, it is a long flight - some fifteen and a half hours. Normally for a long flight (long here meaning over 5 hours), I would have some travel anxiety. Not about the travel or destination or being on time, but just knowing that I have to waste however many hours the flight takes finding things to do. Kind of a idiosyncratic, I know. Long haul flights are pretty good at distractions; somehow American Airlines and partners have all of the same new movies that HBO does, which makes for hours of entertainment. I've found that the really uncomfortable flights are the budget 3-5 hour flights around the US where they've scrimped on every amenity and seat comfort imaginable. Anyway, all of these points become moot when you take a sleeping pill shortly after dinner (and two glasses of wine), lean your seat back, and pass out for 8 hours in an awkward upright-ish position.

My destination was, after a layover at the modern and agreeable Hong Kong airport, Singapore.

Nothing like spicy pork noodles in Hong Kong at midnight after 15 hours of flying.

In Singapore for a work research conference, I luckily had a few days before it began to take stock of the city. Even more fortuitous (though totally planned), I would get to explore with Rhiannon, who had arrived fresh from 3 weeks of travel in Cambodia and Thailand.

I think a good word to describe Singapore is teem, because it really encapsulates the city with all of its varied definitions:

• teem - be brimming with...life - The cultural milieu of a modern-day Singaporean brings them into contact with people from all places (namely India, Malaysia, and China, though strong European presence as well), speaking all different languages (English still reigns supreme, hooray colonialism?), expertly preparing surprisingly affordable associated cuisines (the hawker centres are the best way to experience various parts of the city like Little India and Chinatown). All of this happens under a mixture of colonial and very modern (sometimes futuristic) and strange architecture. More on this in a minute. 

My favorite place to hang out in Singapore is known as the Arab Quarter, where my hotel was located. The mixture of all these cultures was most evident here, with (for instance) Swedish cafes, specialty ice cream / doughnut shops, Mexican restaurants, German beer bars, and hostels all overshadowed by a massive golden-domed mosque and calls to prayer.

Chili crab, one of Singapore's signature dishes. 
Sometimes in a curry, here simply barbecued and served with chili paste. Yum.

• teem - be crowded with...err...crowds - Singapore is a dense city (though density-wise not in the top 40 of world cities, the Phillipines is horrifyingly packed). Singapore's density is balanced with clever usages of space, namely in the vertical direction. I can confidently say that I have never spent so much time in or seen so much indoor walking space. Speaking of indoor space and globs of people, Singapore's underground metro system is world-class, affordable, always on time, and by far the easiest way to get around the city. I spent a lot of time riding it to and fro during my week there. Oh, and it's air-conditioned, which really comes in handy with our next definition...

• teem - be swarming with / be thick with...heat/humidity - It's like right on the equator after all. This makes weather predictably unpredictable. With nearly constant 100% humidity, most forecasts look like this:

The classic "you're gonna get randomly dumped on eventually" forecast. I won't do the conversion for my Fahrenheit-disabled friends, but rest assured it's (nearly) inescapably hot.

I say nearly, because as I mentioned above, Singapore has a lot of air-conditioned spaces. So while just 5 minutes in the oppressive heat can clog breathing, glue shirts to backs, and burn the soles of shoes, a blast of recycled cool air is always just a few steps away. 

• teem - abound in...just some damn cool architecture - Now for some actual pictures:

At Gardens by the Bay - the Supertree Grove.
Tall and weird and light up at night and I want to climb them now.

Oh and there's a walkway.
A good place to get my last sunburn before the dark and dank New Zealand winter.

That dome in the background of the previous picture?
It's a Cloud Forest Conservatory with a 6 story indoor waterfall!

A lot of green as the seemingly omnipresent storms roll in over the Singapore Flyer (Ferris wheel).

The most iconic structure in Singapore has to be the Marina Bay Sands hotel, which has a boat (not a real boat) perched upon its three massive towers. It also has a big subterranean casino and an infinity pool on its roof and cost 6 billion (with a B) Singapore dollars to build.

No better way to survive the rising ocean levels than to start 55 floors above current sea level.

It's pretty easy to get to the top, even for non-hotel guests (though the pool is only for guests). The roof has splendid views of the city skyline, which glows marvelously in the night.

The hand-shaped structure is the ArtScience Museum, where one can ponder questions like, "do buildings have souls?"

And one more to show that, yes, the Supertrees are indeed luminescent. 

and the last definition, for the week I was there,

• teem - be thronged with...MRI nerds. There's really nothing stranger than watching (and being a part of) 6000+ MRI scientists/physicians all waiting in line to collect a "free" conference umbrella and then waiting even longer to get one free tepid beer with the drink ticket that's been hoarded and guarded for a whole week. The conference's closing ceremony was right on the water, which despite the heat and long lines, still made for a good setting.

The projectile-vomiting Merlion, Singapore's 'mascot and national personification.' Kind of strange to call it that when everything on the Wiki page for national personification is human related.

So Singapore is in fact pretty cool. It was a delight to catch up with a lot of former colleagues, learn some new research with 'my people,' and wear a button-up and tucked-in shirt for multiple days in a row.

Auckland is still a 9 hour direct flight back from Singapore, but that just meant I got to partake in Air New Zealand's excellent unlimited drink ordering process and wide array of movies. I also enjoyed some aerial views of Indonesia and the Aussie outback.

I'm getting drunk on a plane.

I was anxious to get back to Auckland:  my bed, my routine, a more constant dose of  soccer, and less jet-lag. A month of travel really isn't that long, and as I sit here typing about it now, so many of the certain conversations or events from it spring to mind with clarity:  a steaming bowl of Ramen in Sydney's Chinatown, a hungover morning run along the Chicago River with Michael and Ben, sitting in a Madison coffee shop pretending to work with Dakota and Jordan, strolling down a street in Okemos with the whole family a few days before the wedding, watching the new bride and groom swill beers post-reception at the The Riv in East Lansing, playing some damn terrible golf with Dad in Portland, walking through the bat enclosure with Rhiannon at the Singapore night safari. 

All of it stands out, but collectively has already begun to blur into a very happy month-long memory.

Cheers!

Bonus:  more cool photos from Rhiannon in Singapore.

"Think, think, think." - Pooh

Lego carnivorous plants, because #singapore.

Evil or something.

That's a big-ole lizard.

Transpacific: Part 2 - USA!

This post details the second leg of my month long transpacific journey, in which I (vain)gloriously return to the USofA, stop in a few of my favorite cities, and see many of my favorite people along the way.

Flying east over the Pacific Ocean is kind of like time travel. Except not really, because anyone who has studied modern physics (and who was also not a cast member of Interstellar) will tell you that until we actually discover wormholes and learn how to fly to/through and survive them, time travel ain't happenin'. What I mean by 'kind of like time travel' is more a Twilight Zone where you are in a pressurized box (and a very large box the A380-800 is) miles above the Earth's surface, for 15 hours, screaming over the international timeline. This east to west traversing suddenly subtracts 24 hours from your life. Poof, gone. And then you are awkwardly experiencing an April 22nd that lasts 40 hours. Luckily for me, I was on an oddly empty Sydney to Dallas flight, giving me two extra seats on which to be recumbent.

So posh. Dallas isn't a destination that Aussies desire?

Pacific sunset, compliments of a 15 hour flight.

The reasons for my visit back home? A bachelor party, a Madison reunion tour, and my sister's wedding, all very good reasons.

Damian's bachelor party, beginning as I landed in Chicago after 20 hours of travel, was intense. It turns out if you party for 36 straight hours you never experience the dreaded transpacific jet-lag; rather, the numbing cocktail of caffeine, alcohol, two puffs of a cigar, seemingly endless pizza, and crisp spring air overrides whatever circadian disrhythmia one accrues on a long flight. Downtown Chicago is home to many locations/things (too many to count) that lend themselves to a good bachelor party, including:

Drinking and a comedy show at Second City,

4 hours in - photo appropriately blurry.

drinking and hanging out on a swanky condo roof,

Reunited. Sunglasses covering Jordan's tears of joy.

and drinking and...some other stuff that guys normally do during a bachelor party

Probably the wildest picture I have ever posted on here. I can't believe I was allowed to post it. What a crazy weekend.

Then it was on to Madison, my second home. Did I have to be in Madison for anything in particular? No, but I think there's a certain pull to places in which one has spent their mid-twenties. A sense of total ease in a place that is familiar and comfortable. Madison feels that way to me.

During my busy couple of days in Madison, I got to see a lot of my old favorites:  the Madison zoo, Nattspil, the former lab and colleagues at UW, Jordan's couch, and I even got to ride a bike around town. I miss riding bikes. Plus Jordan has FIFA 16 on his Playstation, so that's definitely worth spending a few days doing.

The perfect reverse selfie - a few Sunday beers on Dakota's front yard.

I don't really have any other pictures of the visit. And ultimately it was pretty short. I had a wedding to get to after all...

Loyal readers will remember that Lee and Keegan were in New Zealand at the beginning of 2016. So while I had seen them as fiances, I had not seen them in full last-minute-wedding-prep mode. Considering 1) it was almost certainly going to rain on their wedding day, 2) they had made their own favors and pre-planned all the decorations themselves, and 3) they had many day-of things to do (ya know, aside from getting married), their preparedness, composure, and easygoing natures were outright admirable.

It rained during the brief and intimate ceremony in the MSU botanical gardens, though I think it added to the scene. I will never forget leaning into Grandma to get under her umbrella, the look of pure joy on Emmett's face as his bubble-gun (in lieu of carrying flowers) fired into the sprinkling rain, and the difficult to recite yet heartfelt vows the newlyweds exchanged.

First dance. Loyal readers will also remember that Keegan broke his foot while travelling overseas. Here he dances in a moon boot (sandal? jandal?).

What do you think they're talking about? I bet it's an argument over who gets the wedding leftovers...

The reception was a kaleidoscope of conversations with family I hadn't seen in years on my mom's side, family members I didn't know willingly and attentively read this blog on both sides, and the heavily facial-haired and extremely magnanimous Peters clan. All of which is to say it was a blast. If everyday could be Lee and Keegan's wedding, I would do it. I would also only live for like one year more maybe (eating and drinking myself to an early grave), but I would do it. As icing on the cake (or for this wedding chopped peanut butter cup on top of ice cream), I got to invite of bunch of my friends (also Lee's friends) as seat-fillers:

Tired of looking at the back of Dakota's head yet? Me neither.

Dance crew.

I delighted in the fact that the wedding was in Michigan. It afforded me not only the chance to catch up with so many friends and family in the area, but to also experience a lot of the things that make Michigan home in my mind:  giant Jenga at the Riv in East Lansing, a multitude of Michigan-brewed beer (most notably Two Hearted Ale at the reception), shopping at Meijer's (including sending Rhiannon like 20 Snapchats of various cheap American produce and sugary cereals), and experiencing a little outdoor time in Portland.

Dipping, in which a net on a lever literally scoops out fish resting in calm waters. Probably the easiest fishing in the world. Accompanied by America's pisswater and fire. We even caught a somewhat impressive catfish. 

Though it was a vacation and a homecoming of sorts, it all went too fast. Before I knew it, I was being chauffeured (thanks Dad) to Chicago to board a plane for Hong Kong. 

Thanks USA, let's do it again sometime soon...

Cheers!

Bonus:  Pies. I was inspired by some pie at the rehearsal dinner,

That pecan caramel pie, ungh.

to make a very rich and delicious (sour but not too sour, sweet but not too sweet) key-lime pie (yes using real key-limes).

And then proceeded to leave half of it with my Dad as I flew out of the country...