LLWorldTour

I’m about 2 and a half months in to this little journey and I have already crossed paths twice with some of the same folks. My first experience with this was in Costa Rica. There were the few big tourist stops so it wasn’t that absurd to see the same faces again in the next town. Just outside the Monteverde Cloud Forest I met Tobias, a cute young German guy, through my roommate Marcel (who I’d met earlier that day when we both were racing to catch our bus to Monteverde). He was living there and volunteering in the Cloud Forest. A couple days later, I left for my next town, La Fortuna near the Arenal Volcano, about 3 hours away and stayed at Gringo Pete’s Hostel which Marcel had recommended. The next day Tobias showed up. I was overjoyed to see someone I knew a greeted him with what was probably a little too much enthusiasm. Little did I know that this kind of thing happened all the time on the ‘backpacker circuit.’

In the Galapagos Islands I saw an Indian gal from London again that I’d met in Costa Rica about 2 weeks earlier. We’d met immersed in water in the town of La Fortuna at a Hot Springs resort where you can soak the night away in dozens of pools of varying degrees of hotness. She was there with a tour group and had mentioned going to the Galapagos in a few weeks—we’d laughed that maybe we’d see each other. Well we did. And I was in water again. I was snorkeling one day in the Galapagos and just happened to stop for a small rest by the end of another tour yacht similar to the one I was on. Keep in mind there are probably hundreds of tour companies in the Galapagos, let alone dozens of islands to see. I looked up and there she was. It was kinda funny, me saying ‘hi, remember me?’ while I was wearing a mask and snorkel, but apparently she did.

On my boat in the Galapagos, I roomed with Deepak, a funny young emergency medicine doctor from the UK. She super petite, but talked like there was no tomorrow and had a loud laugh that straddled the border of infectious and annoying. We had great fun rooming together and she always made me laugh. She recommended a hostel to stay in Quito when I was finished with my part of the cruise. She would remain in the Galapagos for five more days and meet me there later. When I checked into Huaki Hostel, everyone knew her and her laugh and it was nice again to have some kind of connection with people. So, later that week Deepak and I were eating dinner together once again. She also is moving to Sydney in January so I have no doubt I will see her again there.

In Chile, we were on the Navimag boat for about 4 days. There were about 250 passengers on this boat. One was this tall, lanky guy that I’d spoken to all of two minutes. I dubbed him ‘Kid Rock’ because of his skinny physique and long hair. We proceeded to bump into him, not once, but twice, after the boat—once in Chile and again across the border in a random hotel in Argentina.

Okay, cut to the middle of the huge metropolis of Buenos Aires. My friend, Mark, and I were walking on a random side street amidst the hundreds of blocks in the city. Walking right past us was a French couple that had bunked directly across from me and Andy on the Navimag Boat clear across the continent back in Chile. Since they too were probably on a big trip going through South America it may have not been that odd to see them again except for the fact that Buenos Aires is a city of nearly 4 million people and we were on the same side street at the same time on the same side of the street! We made eye contact and both hesitated for a bit. Then they kept walking as did I. But seconds later we both realized we’d seen each other somewhere before and stopped in our tracks. I looked back at the same time they did when my brain caught up with my body and realized where I knew them from. We gave an awkward wave to each other and went on our way.

Here’s the best one to date. I’m here in my small hostel on the outskirts of this small town known as Rotorua on the island country of New Zealand. I had just finished my lackluster breakfast of ‘fruity rings’ and milk and went to the shared kitchen to wash out my bowl and spoon. I walked past a table where a blond girl was looking down slicing bananas onto some bread. I didn’t look at her directly, but was mesmerized by her perfectly sized, thin banana slices and by the fact that she was symmetrically spiraling them on a slice of wheat bread. As I put my milk back in the fridge, I heard “Lisa?” I spun around and couldn’t believe my eyes. It was Sinead from Ireland, a good friend I’d made in the Galapagos on my tiny Boat tour of just sixteen people nearly two months ago. And here she and her boyfriend, Damian, were half way around the world and at the same hostel! So crazy and cool at the same time. They were the first ones I’d met on the boat in the GI and were also traveling around the world for a year. My jaw dropped and we jumped up and kissed and hugged—it was like meeting a long lost sister or something. They had also gone to Buenos Aires and then flew out of Santiago, Chile to New Zealand a few weeks ago. We briefly caught up, but then they had to run to catch their bus to a whitewater rafting trip.

I’m learning the travel world is really, really small especially since a lot of people’s ‘top stops’ and ‘must sees’ are the same. With all the lists and books out now of “754, 395 Places to See before You Die,” I guess we are bound to see some of the same drifters once or twice.

Here I am all alone on the other side of the world in a foreign land and I’m still bumping into people I know just as if I was walking down the street in Chicago. I guess when you are traveling alone you are never really lonely. I think the “Lonely Planet” guides might need to change their title to “Crowded Planet” soon.

One of the first things you become immediately aware of in New Zealand is the influence of the Maori culture. The vast majority of place names are of Maori origin. At first, visitors may be puzzled by the seemingly impossible-to-pronounce names. In fact, Maori has a logical structure, and, unlike English, has very consistent rules of pronunciation (kinda like my old friend Español). The Maori are the indigenous people of New Zealand and it is believed they migrated from Polynesia in canoes sometime around the 10^th century. Today, they make up over 14 percent of the population. Their language and culture has a major impact on all facets of New Zealand life.

One popular thing to do as a tourist is to go to a Maori performance or Haka. These showcase traditional Maori culture as demonstrated by third generation descendants of Maori tribes. I went to the Mitai Maori Village for a $70 performance, meal, and night time tour of a neighboring animal sanctuary.

The show, which took place outdoors in a beautiful wooded setting complete with torch light and winding paths, started with some eerie chants as the Maori paddled upstream in their ancient warrior canoe while giving some tribal ‘shout outs.’ They performed a few tribal dance numbers and did their ritual war dance which was actually pretty scary. You wouldn’t want to cross a Maori dude the wrong way…they mean business. We learned some Maori words and even sung along with them, even though we had no idea what we were saying. The show seemed to be half authentic and half Vegas-style cabaret complete with dancing girls and costumes. Although, I was told they were all real Maori, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was just a good paying gig rather than a real traditional show.

Afterwards we were herded back into a huge tent for the traditional hangi feast. The hangi is a traditional oven made by digging a hole in the ground and steaming food in big baskets over embers. Succulent chicken, lamb, potatoes, plus rice, salad and dessert was laid out for us on steaming buffet tables.

After dinner, I toured Rainbow Springs. It was a beautiful night time tour. All the various Palm trees and ferns were lit up by colorful lights and even the fish ponds had dim lights to reveal rainbow trout swirling about hovering over the natural springs that gave this place its name. Here, I got to see what I came for, the endangered national bird of New Zealand, the cute, yet klutzy looking Kiwi. No, it is not a green fuzzy fruit. This flightless bird is only found in New Zealand and is a member of the Ostrich/Emu family. It has no tail, has horrible vision, but a great sense of smell which helps him snort out yummy grubs and other buggies. It is the only bird in the world to have nostrils at the end of its beak. Oh, and get this, a female Kiwi gives birth to an egg that is roughly 20% of her own body weight. Ouch. They are nocturnal so luckily we caught a glimpse of a few in the park. The one I saw seemed to have a bit of OCD—she was pacing back and forth and seemed very uncomfortable in her own feathers…or she just found out about the huge egg she’d have to ‘drop’ one day. They do have a Kiwi conservation program going on here which is a good thing because there has been a 99% loss in their population in the last 100 years. It is estimated that before human settlement in the 13th century, there were 70 million kiwi. Today, there are about 70,000 left. They say that at the current rapid rate of decline, unprotected kiwi populations will become extinct on the mainland in 75 years.

The ride home in our tour shuttle bus was perhaps the most memorable part of the evening. Our jovial driver wore big glasses and had a shaved head. He asked us all 6 of us which countries we were from.

“The UK!”

“India.”

“Canada.”

Everyone shouted out their homelands. He had each ‘country’ sing a song from their native land. The Canadians sang their national anthem. And the Brits sang their beloved Beatles’ “Yellow Submarine.” When he got to me (the lone US passenger) I asked him to join me since I was alone and did not want to make a fool of myself with a solo performance. He suggested “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.” Easy enough. After our amazing rendition, I had to pick the next country and I shouted out New Zealand knowing he would have to sing. He regaled us with a sweet Maori tune.

After the Indian couple finished their anthem, our driver told us his story. He’d recently undergone a heart transplant. He told us how every day is a gift for him and he really enjoys meeting folks from all over the world and singing and laughing with them.

When we reached my hostel we parted ways with the traditional Maori greeting—the hongi–the touching of noses and ‘sharing of life breath’. He said this was very special and a bond of friendship. What a sweet man—who knew my bus ride home would be the highlight of the night and remind me, once again, how important it is to make the most of each day.

Kia-Ora

Unfortunately, after my long flight and 36 hours of no sleep, I started to feel rundown again and awoke my second day in New Zealand to my friend the ‘fever’ again. Damn it! We went straight to the doctor who diagnosed me as much as I could have myself, wrote out a prescription for another antibiotic, and I sent me on my way.

After a day of resting up at the Hamilton’s Cliffside home, I was on a big, cushy bus on my way north to the Bay of Islands, a beautiful area and popular tourist destination on the backpacker trail. I stayed at the Peppertree Hostel in a four bed dorm room with its own bathroom. Prices in New Zealand are the highest I’ve experienced on my trip so far, so I decided to try the dorm thing again since a single room, even at the hostel, was more than $50 a night.

Peppertree turned out to be great. There was a super large kitchen complete with dishes, pots, pans and three fridges for all your ‘save money and cook here’ needs. Outside there were outdoor picnic tables and grills under a trellis of twinkling Christmas lights. And there was a lounge area with couches, a TV and DVD player. Everything was spotless and constantly being cleaned. The folks staying there ran the gamut—from dreadlocked backpackers to families with kids in tow. It was a great mix of travelers which debunked all assumptions that hostels are just for the under 30 set.

I shared a simple room of 2 bunk beds with two pretty, yet unfriendly, girls from Israel who, although were fluent in English, proceeded to speak Hebrew most of the time they were in the room. The third girl in my room was probably nearing 50 and was from France. She’d actually dislocated her shoulder on some adventure trip in India and ended up changing rooms because climbing up to the top bunk was quite a challenge. The bottom bunk is prime real estate and I wasn’t giving mine up!

For the first time on my trip, I really was not meeting anyone aside from a few ‘hellos’ at my hostel. It’s the busy season here, so there are a lot of people milling about, but maybe too many for me. Because I spent the last month with friends in Chile and Argentina, had I lost the ability to be outgoing? Was I just feeling sick and anti-social? During the first part of my trip, I had already met so many friendly folks and made so many new friends. Where were the friendly Kiwis (New Zealanders) that I heard all about? Now, anyone who knows me well, will tell you I am extremely independent and like to be alone, but am very good chatting with strangers (probably thanks to my producing job). I do cherish my alone time and spend a good bit of time in Chicago alone…or at least wanting to be alone, but I also am very good at meeting new people and have made many new good friends over the last year.

My last day in the Bay of Islands, I took an all day boat tour that went out and around many of the islands and through what they call the “Hole in the Rock.” But the absolute best part of this trip was getting to swim with dolphins. We spent the first part of our day sailing around the large bay hunting for the smart sea creatures. Luckily we came upon a large ‘pod’ of about 40 dolphins. They were having a great old time–swimming in pairs, jumping out of the water, and swimming right up to and under our boat to get a good look (and laugh) at us staring at them. After feeling somewhat relaxed after our leisurely cruise up to this point, it was somewhat shocking to now be yelled at to “get ready!” and “Go! Go! Go!” when it was time to jump off the boat and into the cold water. Oh yeah, did I mention how freaking cold this water was? It was the coldest water I have ever swum in…ever. Just during the ride around the bay, I was already shivering and had put my socks on—socks and sandals (I was starting to look like a German tourist)—a great look, but I don’t care when my toes get cold fashion goes out the window. We put wet suits on, but wet and freezing is just not a fun combo. I hit the water and felt like I was swimming with the Polar Bears in Coney Island—except that I wasn’t naked. I had to calm myself down once in the water to breathe slower through my snorkel as my adrenaline was pumping and my body was shivering so much that I could see hyperventilation on the horizon. Luckily for me, a playful dolphin twosome swam right underneath me and before I knew it, our guide was yelling at me to get out of the water. It was a quick adventure, but probably best since I was about to get Hypothermia.

Aboard the boat cruise I met a petite, cute blonde gal named Caroline from the UK. Ironically, she and I had a lot in common as far as what propelled us to go on our respective ‘trips around the world.’ Her dog had died recently and she too had broken up with her long term boyfriend about 6 months ago. She had also sold off a property in order to travel the globe. Unfortunately for her, her father had also died and she and her mother were estranged. She was actually traveling for 2 years with hopes to end up buying some property in Spain and do horseback riding tours. We ended up going for a drink later that night at a local watering hole and it was nice to get out of my ‘alone time’ for a bit.

For some reason, the next day my Israeli gals warmed up a bit and invited me to ride with them in their rental car back to Auckland. I was all about to say ‘yes’ and cancel my four hour, $30 bus ride when Simon, the hostel manager talked me out of it.

“Never trust backpackers,” he said. “They say they will take you, but then along the way they will see a pretty waterfall and have to stop or just decide last minute to go a completely different direction.”

He had a good point and since I had no time to spare and had to catch another bus within an hour of arriving, I decided he was right. I guess saving a little money (although I would pay them gas money anyway) would do me no good if I never got there. Plus I was already worried the girls would get lost, or worse, weren’t too good with driving on the ‘left’ side of the road. So the next day I was back on the bus onto my next destination, the thermal, yet smelly, wonderland of Rotorua.

After one hellishly long, fourteen hour flight from Buenos Aires over the icy and eerie Antarctic to Auckland, New Zealand, after being stuck seated next to a slightly pungent Australian dude, I lost a whole day (flew over the international date line) and was exhausted to say the least. Thankfully, my good friend Diane had hooked me up with some old friends of hers that now live in Auckland. Leslie and her husband Richard moved to New Zealand about ten years ago after living in different parts of the states including Chicago. Their kids were born in the US, but mostly grew up here so they pretty much are true “kiwis” through and through complete with accents and everything. Is that odd for mom and dad when their kids don’t even sound like they do?

I have always thought about how cool it would be to up and move to another country. Maybe I just like all the challenges about it. I’ve come to learn that about myself—I’m always up for a challenge. Some asked if I was happy to be in an English-speaking country again. Not at all. Everyone speaking English was, frankly, rather boring. In fact, I was a bit sad to not have the challenge of trying to understand those I spoke with. Also, I enjoyed the joy my Latin American friends seemed to get from my efforts to speak their language. It was pure fun.

Anyway, I’ve always dreamt about possibly moving to some far away land. Every time I would return from one of my European trips, I dreamed of moving to Italy and opening a B&B (and decorating the walls with my photos) or running a small bike tour company or opening a B&B that had a small bike tour company in it. But I just never pulled the trigger. Maybe this trip will eventually lead me to that…I just don’t know yet. But when I meet folks like Leslie and Richard and see their everyday life in New Zealand, I can’t help but be inspired and a bit envious. Here is this great family unit happily living and working here (Leslie works from a home office with the most spectacular views of a sparkling bay—that’s inspirational all by itself). They’ve built a home, a life, and have no strong needs or desire to return to the US. They have everything they need, and have embraced all things New Zealand, well, minus the popular Australian import of vegemite, that is.