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...

Transpacific: Part 1 - Sydney

This is the first post detailing my month-long excursion in which I basically live on a plane. I'm not saying that I'm a jet-setter or anything, but by mid-May when I return to Auckland I will have spent 53 hours in air transit, covering roughly 41,000 kms (25,500 miles, not quite around the world). There's only so many times you can watch the new James Bond movie (which was crap) on a 15 hour flight.

Luckily for me from a financial perspective, most of my trip is funded by Siemens Healthcare and the University of Auckland. And they even booked my plane tickets and a few accommodations:

"Doctor (not a real doctor)" Eric Schrauben. Please don't steal my Qantas points.

My first week has been spent in Sydney, ("the Harbour City") Australia. From a tourist's standpoint, it has not been a productive week. I've spent the majority of everyday in a classroom at the local Siemens Healthcare Education Centre learning how to manipulate MRI scanners in C++ programming. This is what the (capital A) Adults would label a 'business' trip, ugh. The course is located just off the campus of Macquarie University, which is really nice and new and beautiful, but also about 45 minutes from downtown Sydney via public transit. So yeah, it's been a little dull. The good news, aside from my cushy air-conditioned hotel room, is that I got most of Sunday to explore Sydney on my own. 

Let me just say this, in a few sentences, to point out how quickly someone can (seemingly) fully explore a city when they are by themselves. Travelling in general by yourself just goes faster. Instead of worrying about the rest of group staying together, you just go. The same goes for a new place; every tourist attraction takes so much less time to experience/see when you don't have to take a plethora of photos with other people, or discuss its beauty, historical significance, overcrowdedness, overratedness, etc. It's not necessarily better, just different, in a faster sort of way.

Anyway, this is precisely what I did in a 6 hour period in Sydney on my only free day, which happened to be mostly cloud-covered and muggy.

For my Auckland friends. This is what traffic-free Auckland looks like at 6 am on a Sunday morning. Astounding I know.

Even though Australia and New Zealand are relatively geographically close to each other, the similarities are only relative. I've gotten used to the flora, fauna, and food of Auckland. But in Sydney these are just different enough that I felt obliged to take a few pictures:

Bird of Paradise outside of Siemens Healthcare in Macquarie.

Sulphur-crested Cockatoo, surprising in size and audibly distressing.

Australian white ibis. A strange combination of vulture, goose, and heron. I was entranced by and hated these, simultaneously.

All the macaron flavo(u)rs. Designed by celebrity chef Adriano Zumbo, dubbed Zumbarons.

Sydney Chinatown. I'm a sucker for big rainy-day bowls of steaming spicy Ramen-esque things.

I spent several hours walking near the Sydney harbour. The city has a truly excellent waterfront. Sydney is probably most well-known for its opera house, which doubles as a dish-drying rack if looked at from the correct angle:

There are so many other comparisons. Source.

Really though, it is an impressive piece of architecture. And to think it only took 15 years of mind-bending architectural and engineering design and execution.

Iconic.

Iconic x 3.

Iconic x 20 + night filter.

I guess it's generally a thumbs up for a city or place if when I'm leaving I wish I had spent more time in it. Sydney made me feel that way. 

Now for the next portion of my trip - Chicago/Madison/Michigan. I'm coming home (-ish).

Cheers!

Bonus:  My favorite (most noteworthy) pieces from Australian artists at the Art Gallery of New South Wales:

At least it took good care of its teeth.

Yes. I get it. I like it. I would put this on my wall.

Please make your own assessment (hint - mine is not positive).

Rotorua, (s)Wellington, and the Coromandel Peninsula (again)

Next weekend I'm leaving New Zealand for the first time since I arrived in late July 2015. Rest assured it's not a permanent departure. But it has been eight months since I've stepped on Kiwi soil, and flying away from it feels monumental somehow. My sojourn over the next month will include a week in Sydney, two weeks back in the States, and a week in Singapore - a real jet-setting lifestyle. My basic plan is to let the west to east jet lag be offset by drinking and eating and the eventual east to west jet lag. "If I never sleep I can't get jet-lagged," the man with one pupil more dilated than the other screamed into at own reflection.

Before I embark on that trip, which I will dutifully write about here, I wanted to make sure that I equally diligently wrote about three of the weekend trips I've taken (that is, Rhiannon and I have taken) in the last couple of months. All locations are on New Zealand's North Island, all are drive-able (kind of) from Auckland, yet the three are distinctly independent, giving wholly different appreciations of NZ culture and history and geography. 

* * *

First up is Rotorua, a 2.5 hour drive south of Auckland. Chronologically it makes sense to describe this trip first (since it happened in mid-February); from a journalistic perspective it's also a good place to start, because things can only improve relative to Rotorua. Imagine the boiling mud pools and steam that stinks of rotten eggs and weirdly colored stream beds indicative of Yellowstone National Park (admittedly very cool and eye/ear/nose-catching). Now imagine that geothermal stew mixed with the utter kitschy-ness and money-grubbing over-priced merchandise and all-this-tourism-is-just-a-facade-covering-up-rampant-violence-and-poverty feeling that, say, Niagara Falls or the Vegas Strip, evokes. At some point in the recent past the local council decided to make the sacred Maori locale of Rotorua a tourist haven (read:  trap) where one can pay out the ass to get some 'authentic' cultural Maori experiences. That's all I have to say about Rotorua. 

Here's some boiling mud:

Everyone come sample Rotorua's stomach-churning primordial soup.

For some reason this makes me think of the movie Congo.

But it wasn't all bad. There was a decent grocery store in town with cheap wine and pummelos (look and smell delicious, but overall underwhelming in flavor), and it supplied our camping excursion outside of town. In fact, leaving Rotorua in any direction brings you to a number of lovely places, such as the adjacent Blue and Green Lakes:

Didn't capture them at their greenest (left) or bluest (right), but you get the idea. 
Note my fancy unintended J.J. Abrams lens flare.

  
Or to relaxing hot pools fed by naturally boiling water tucked into a remote valley:

Boiling spring water, instant pore-opener.

Ultimately the camping at one of the nearby tucked away lakes made the weekend worth it. But I definitely do not recommend Rotorua as a destination for tourists, not when there are countless free and more interesting/beautiful places to see nearby.

Not a bad view from the tent door. Hobbit feet.

* * *

Next up is Wellington, New Zealand's capital city, located at the southern tip of the North Island. And for a special treat here is Rhiannon's guest telling of it:

"Wellington - You can't beat it on a good day". The city's unofficial catch phrase is spoken in various tones, depending on whether or not the speaker believes that the 30 days of good weather Wellington receives per year allow it to reign superior as a place to live. Fortunately for Eric and I, we were there for one good evening, a full good day, and a following good morning. 

Wellington is widely regarded to be the cultural capital (as well as the regular capital) of New Zealand. There are cool bars, cafes, shows and markets. A larger-than-usual percentage of the local population wear fashionable hats (which is an impressive practical feat given the high wind speeds). We found our way to one of these cool bars on our first evening. The Library bar, situated off one of the main streets, is set up like the inside of a boldly decorated 1970s home - if that home were to comprise only of a series of living rooms. Sipping on cocktails (their specialty) we pondered the purpose of the presence of a bathtub in the middle of one of the lounges. No conclusion was reached.

On our second evening, we trailed Yelp and Google (how great is technology) around the city in our quest to hit up the trendiest and most interesting spots. Highlights include an Asian night market, a very confusing, unstructured experience at a brewery tasting, a bar with great beer (though I'm pretty sure the bartender made up the ingredients; "grapefruit and, umm...lemongrass?") and a cafe with a string jazz quartet which transported us to a world of sophistication and relaxation. In contrast, the evening ended in a tiny underground bar that smelt strongly like garlic butter, packed with hip people listening and dancing dangerously to a Russian Gypsy Jazz trio.

After a day of eating and drinking everything in sight, it was necessary to partake in some exercise on the final morning. Now, as you will know from watching LOTR, every walk in New Zealand must be accompanied by epic music. It was therefore only appropriate that as we started our march up Mount Victoria, a local brass band set the mood by playing the national anthem, followed by a series of other of grand brass pieces. This reassured us that our walk up the hill was important and for the greater good of Middle Earth as we know it.

The Madison of New Zealand! But bigger, and with hills, and a movie special effects studio. Also, one of the best places for expats to live!

Bravo, Rhiannon. Wellington also has a free national museum, Te Papa, where medals vaguely reminiscent of 'participation awards' are on display:

The Self-congratulatory Iron Cross. The Medal of Honor and Give Yourself a Pat on the Back.

Someday I'll start an Instagram account where every picture is me looking bored with aloof animals.

Maybe most importantly, Peter Jackson's special effects studio, The Weta Cave, is tucked into a sleepy neighborhood near the Wellington airport. All of your favorites from the LOTR are on display:

Checking out disturbingly real nose hair and snot globules. "They have a cave troll." 

Wearable Hobbit feet. As noted above, these are superfluous for me. Embrace your heritage.

* * *

Last up was a trip over Easter weekend. In New Zealand, Easter is celebrated as a major holiday. Both the Friday before and the Monday after are national holidays, meaning everyone has a 4 day weekend. USA needs more Christian (or Jewish or Hindu or Islamic or whatever) holiday four-day weekends.

This gave me a chance to settle a personal vendetta that had been stewing in the back of my mind since late October. Faithful fans and loyal readers of my blog (pretty much just Dad) will remember that Rhiannon and I had planned a weekend camping trip to the Coromandel peninsula. They will also remember that it had to be cut a day short after I succumbed to a mysterious food-borne illness, causing me to become violently sick. 

Well this time we came back with a vengeance - and stayed in a resort called Nature's Window Retreat tucked away into the Coromandel range.

In case you wanted to know what I thought about it, here's my TripAdvisor review (yes I opened a TripAdvisor account just to post this):

Lassitudinous? Thinking you'll never trump your torpidity? Mollify your mind. My prescription - Nature's Window Retreat. 

No need to worry about subterfuge here - what you see is what you get. And what you get is very good. Sure I could extol the virtues and state of equanimity offered at this hidden oasis:  unwinding by an infinity pool that peers out over the mountainous rain forest, sipping Pinot Grigio in a blue-lit hot tub under night time raindrops, waking up to a steaming pot of coffee and homemade toasted muesli with fruit and yogurt, or luxuriating in a plethora of tranquil nooks tastefully decorated with hand-made Balinese furniture and sculptures. 

But I don't need to do that, because you can rest assured that Mark and Lisa will assiduously see to your every need. 

Too wordy? Says a lot without really saying anything? If you said yes to both of those questions then I did my job perfectly.

Cheers!

Bonus: Here's a picture (back and front) of a hedgehog that got stuck running away from us in a driveway. Adorable. I can't recall if we just left it there to die or pushed it through.

My worst spelunking nightmare. 

Tawharanui (ta-far-a-noo-ee)

Rhiannon and I, on consecutive weekends awhile back, made the quick 80 minute drive up to Tawharanui Regional Park. It has a beach. It has a native bird sanctuary. It has great camping too. And hiking trails. Oh and rock pools. I'm just really excited to tell you about it.

I have to admit that after the extreme uniqueness (is that a thing? If something is unique it can't be anymore or less unique, right?) and breathtaking views that constantly smacked me in the face and occipital lobe on the South Island, I didn't really know if I would capture that feeling of awe again on the North Island. After all, there are a lot of pretty beaches and views in and around and near Auckland, but constant availability makes me unconsciously take them for granted. 

The other thing that the South Island has on its side, and I just realized it as I started typing this, is the relative lack of crowds. Even though Milford Sound and Mt. Cook and the glaciers are the most well-known sights in NZ, they aren't easy to get to. That makes the number of people cramming themselves up and down hiking paths and along the narrow roadways limited. One thing I really like about travelling is the perception, whether real or not, of doing something that is rare, of experiencing a place at a certain time that not many other people in the world will ever do. Much of the South Island gives you that feeling - setting up camp in dense and shrouded woodland, kayaking underneath a waterfall, being one of ten or so people at a reflective Alpine lake. 

Near Auckland, the beaches are often pretty populated. Not like Copacabana crowded, but you definitely don't get the sense that you're experiencing it on your own. As an occasional hater of crowds (not strictly agoraphobic, just don't like them), this can be pretty annoying. Tawharanui, due to its relative lack of fame coupled with the fact that you have to drive on gravel roads for several kms before reaching the park, doesn't suffer from these crowds nearly as much.

All of this is to say that if you arrive at Tawharanui on a clear Saturday summer's eve (which we did the first weekend there), you get the whole damn thing practically to yourself:

Smiling because no one's here.

A dusty sunset guides us to our picnicking location.

Action shot! Caw-ca-caw-ca-caw!

I mean this particular evening was incredibly clear, like contemporaneous gigantic moon-rise and sunset clear:  

The moon races above the opposing burning horizon.

And then some humans got in the way.

Descend a few vacant steps, slip your toes into the world's softest sand, and let your cares melt away.

I mean just look how empty that is. Also, pretty.

And this was mid to late January, so the water was perfect for swimming.

Picture of Rhiannon testing the water and taking picture of surf. Included:  no one else.

Did I mention it was a really clear night?

You get the point, so here is an artsy photo from atop a nearby hill/rock. It was a really great rock.

So like, job done, right? Some amount of travelling was performed. I've shown you a really nice evening spent in a vacant and beautiful regional park. I probably convinced you that it's totally possible to find a not crowded beach near Auckland. 

But wait, there's more. The next weekend, Rhiannon and I returned. We suspected that we hadn't seen everything Tawharanui has to offer. We bivouacked in a lovely little camping area surrounded by some pretty odd looking native birds, called Pukekos (poo-kek-oh):

I suspect these would be extremely delicious.

Back to the beach, where washed up dead things and rock pools provided hours of entertainment:

Yes this is a penguin. Yes this is sad. And yes it was poked with a stick.

Adorable, prickly, and deadly. I'd say this pufferfish employed excellent camouflage.

The beach's rock pools, which span probably 4-5 acres at low tide, are home to crabs and mussels and sea slugs and numerous types of fish, but by far the best thing caught us completely by surprise:

This legitimately freaked me out as I was a half second away from stepping into this pool.

We could simply goad the octopus into chasing us out of its pool. Clearly guarding something.

"You kids get off my lawn."

So cool and unexpected. We spent a solid half an hour with this octopus, eventually finding out it had a nearby (lazy and useless) mate. We came back an hour later to find it chasing away small crabs from a different pool. Those pictures are great, but the video below does it proper justice. Thanks Tawharanui for giving me my favorite nature encounter in New Zealand to date, and for giving me a jolt of uniqueness and awe once again.

Cheers!