Winding Through a Dark, Foggy Night

Falling asleep at the wheel would have been impossible at this point as I cautiously snaked around each sharp “S” in the road, secretly concealed in night’s black cloak. No lights provided any indication of where the road was going or if it was even a road at all. The only lights within my visibility were the murky yellow streams that gently poured out of my headlights and the other two confused sets that followed me with every unpromising turn. Although my ears were popping at this high elevation, I could still hear the constant crackling of muddy gravel as my tires crept up an assortment of roads much too steep for these giant, orange, fuel-burning machines that pretended to be efficient vehicles. I widened my eyes as if they would somehow emit a magical light and show me where we were. There was nothing. Just the vans, a rocky road, and some sort of cliff compiled of chunky rocks and dark mud that billowed high above the right side of the van. To the left was a black swamp, which could have easily disguised anything from a forest to a desert. I would never know. But it appeared to me to be more like a black hole trying to grasp you in its sharp, cold fingers and suck you in. It was a horror movie to look in that direction, and I was ready for anything to pop out from the abyss and attack.

The GPS had no hope for us as it lost track of our location about fifteen minutes ago when it told us we were approximately 6.7km from our destination: a campsite called Totaranui Coast Track located in Abel Tasman National Park of South Island. Still we pressed on, up a rocky slope, down muddy hill hugged with thick fog, and around unexpected hairpin turns. This was New Zealand driving at its greatest. All of these features were part of the typical drive about the South Island, only taken to the maximum. Driving during the night, I never had any idea what kind of odd formations and landscapes surrounded us as we parked to camp. But when daylight approached and we poked our heads out of the van, it was like stepping out into a whole new world that nobody could possibly know. At times I was not sure if we had somehow hopped the ocean and travelled to another country. The last light of one sky would leave me with visions of a sunset reflecting in a calm ocean inhabited by sleeping seals and blue penguins, and the first light of the following sky would burst out from behind jagged, snow capped mountains where glaciers and icebergs reside. It was the most beautiful feeling to wake up and not know what unreal, untouched world was awaiting you outside the van door. There was not one morning that I woke up without thinking that we had gained some type of exclusive VIP pass giving us front row seats to the best views in town. I thought about this as I lurched onwards, hoping that the menacingly black curtain and blinding fog would lift and reveal its secret of a deeper beauty to this currently eerie and suspicious world.

 Growing extremely tired from the three hour drive made before taking on this dismal road to nowhere, I started to realize now that my friends who were supposed to entertain me during the night drive were now dozing off. I was alone suddenly, trying to navigate foreign roads that did not exist to my struggling, spastic GPS. Being the leader, I was only able to follow my dwindling hope that some sign of life would eventually emerge around one of these bends. Not sure if we were even on the right road anymore or if this place actually existed, I decided to pull over and figure out a plan with the other vans. All I knew is that we needed to find a place to sleep soon, seeing as most of the drivers were getting weary. Somehow we came to the conclusion to keep going on the basis that if we did not reach this destination soon enough, we would just camp on the side of the road where I knew we were sure to encounter the creatures that roamed the abyss in my horror movie. No big deal. Seconds later, something actually did pop out of the abyss directly into the beam of my lights. A deadly creature? No, just the typical New Zealand road kill, a possum. It was actually somewhat relieving to almost hit that possum as it forced me to not succumb to sleepiness and it proved that at least there was some life here after all.

Time was seeping out of the clock as it seemed like we had been on this road for at least an hour now; a drive that I believed would only last about twenty minutes. I thought about the lack of signs along the course and how the only signs I remember seeing earlier depicted rock falls and narrow roads. Realizing that on one side of my van, rocks were gazing down at me tempted to crush any vehicle stupid enough to cross this route and the other side carried vicious demons looming and determined to attack us trespassers, I assumed that escaping from this fate was no longer an option. But then, to my relief I finally saw the first sign. Squinting with fiery red eyes, I was pleased and a little shocked, due to lost faith, to see the name “Totaranui Coast Track” and an arrow directing me to the right. Breaking out of the darkness, I began to see a few dim lights from the main cabin and I felt myself internally rejoicing at the sign of my survival and my ability to close my eyes and cuddle up with a warm blanket at last.

After the long night’s nerve-wracking journey, it was naturally amazing to open our eyes to a vibrantly green enclosure that unveiled a vast rusty colored beach where no footprints existed. It was like the first snow of the season, glistening in the crisp morning sun, ready to be touched and molded by the first feet to sink into it. Taking in the pure serenity that the morning seemed to offer as an apology for night’s cruel deception, I thought about how unique that drive was and how the fears that surmounted, now became an experience that I would not have wanted to miss. Driving in the South Island reflected the words of U2’s song Beautiful Day, “You’re on the road, but you’ve got no destination.” Every drive possessed a feeling of aimlessness where we were entertained more so by the unexpected adventures that we encountered and dwelled in the mind-set of just going, living in the moment, and taking it easy.

Sheep and Cows

You cannot drive anywhere in New Zealand without passing fields of sheep and cows along the way. It is a well known fact by locals that the population of cows here is about double that of humans, and the most astounding figure is the ratio of sheep to humans is approximately 20:1! Living in the city, I do not see these animals every day, but as soon as I venture off, sheep and cows almost seem to line the sides of the roads. They truly are EVERYWHERE! I've even spotted them hanging out on the edges of grassy cliffs enjoying their fresh green grass.

On one of the trips Loyola held for us, we travelled to central North Island to the towns of Rotorua and Taupo. Along with the activities of zorbing, luging, and viewing the geothermal activity in the are, we also got the opportunity to attend the Agrodome Sheep Show. I felt like I was a little kid at a petting zoo going around and touching the sheeps' waxy, thick wool and laughing at their silly facial expressions. There were 19 different breeds of sheep that they presented and described to us. I found it entertaining to watch as each sheep was introduced and scampered (sometime tripping) up to their pedestal, starring off into the audience and looking proud. We also got to observe the shearing of a sheap. I felt sorry for the poor little guy as he was held down while all his wool was stripped from him. But the speed in which this was done was mind blowing! Within probably one minute all the wool was neatly removed and piled up in a large heap. This show was very interactive as well and included the audience in the tasks of milking a cow and feeding baby lambs with bottles of milk. Being an eager volunteer, I was lucky enough to milk my first cow! As i expected it was not too easy and very strange yanking on this cow that stood unamused. In the final part of the show, the large Huntaway dogs came on stage and showed off their intelligence and superb training. They even were instructed to climb up the pedestals where the sheep were all displayed by walking on top of the sheep. I was not expecting this, but was highly amused at the sheeps' careless reactions and the skills that these dogs possessed. Since I feel as though I've seen enough sheep roaming all of New Zealand, I did not expect to be as entertained as I was at this festivity. But learning more about these awkward animals and the worth of their wool made them no longer just the everyday New Zealand sheep seen grazing on the side of the road.

Kiwi Inventions...

No single thing can describe New Zealand for all it is, but if required to describe it in limited words, one could not do so without mentioning Zorbing. Have you ever wished that you could be a hamster just so you could run around inside of those plastic hamster balls? Well leave it to the Kiwi's (New Zealand locals) to invent a giant hamster ball for humans. The Zorb, invented in the North Island city of Rotorua, was made for no other reason than to provide random entertainment to those who desired to plop themselves inside a giant plastic globe and roll down a hill. It sounds a little crazy and silly. And it is!

The Zorbs are made of one large ball that is about 10 feet in diameter that is connected by hundreds of small ropes to a smaller ball within it. This forms an air pocket between the two balls and keeps the impact minimal, making the ride more comforatable. From the outside of the larger ball there is a small tunnel-like entrance that you have to shimmy yourself through in order to get inside the small ball. Once inside, the world becomes blurred out by the thick layers of plastic isolating you in this odd contraption. Before taking off, the Zorb is filled with a little water, and since it is almost winter here now we were privilaged with a warm bath. Although, as I sat in this plastic ball full of water with my friend, I started to feel like I was in a baby pool splashing around in the miniature tub of gentle warm water and the smell like plastic floating bath toys. Also, the thought of rolling down a hill in this funny looking ball for pure entertainment transformed me into a 6-year old Laura, who would soon be hysterically giggling down the entire hill.

As the Zorb takes off, it is tempting to try and stand and run with the ball for as long as possible. But I must mention that there is a downfall to this: you WILL fall down. You either start to look like a not-so-skilled Roadrunner as you trip over your own feet, the unmerciful water tackles your feet and yanks you down, or your friend who failed the moment the Zorb started rolling falls into your running path. I can't remember which happened to me, but I'm pretty sure it was a combination of the three. After you're down however, there is no getting back up. Instead the world becomes a mixture of green and white fog as you tumble about, limbs attacking you from all directions with no way out and no end to be seen in this blury madness.

I Can Fly!

I don't really recall the first time that I decided that I wanted to go bungee jumping someday, but at some point when I was just a child, the idea of dangling and bouncing upside down from a stretchy cord appealed to me. Long before I knew I was coming to New Zealand, I shared my intentions of bungee jumping someday with my family. My mother, who had gone parachuting out of a plane before figured that she couldn't deny me of my desires to bungee jump and my father is only amused and interested in any extreme sport or activity. However, with every risky situation, my older brother always entertains himself in making an effort to terrorize me of the the dangers that could occur. For the longest time I had a major fear of tornados. Everytime a storm with high winds blew through town, my brother tormented me with my fear by either claiming to see a tornado or making observational comments like, "Doesn't the sky turn that color right before a tornado forms?" Naturally, when I brought up my idea of bungee jumping he knew it was his job to find a way to terrify me. After his report on the danger in bungee jumping, I had this horrible image in my head of the slack of the bungee coiling around my neck on the bounce up only to strangle me as the slack tightens on the way down. What a calming picture!

Several years later, I was reminded of this desire that I once had when hearing from a friend of mine who travelled to New Zealand last Spring and was telling me his thrilling story of doing the Nevis Bungee Jump. After watching his video, I instantly knew that there was absolutely no way I was not doing this jump! The Nevis Bungee in Queenstown is one of the highest jumps in the world, (134 meters/ 440 feet--highest in New Zealand) so I decided that if I was ever going to pursue my dream of jumping, THIS was the time and the place! New Zealand has other various bungee jumps across the country, (so far I have seen at least four or five other locations) so it is clear that this activity is a popular attraction and something that should be on the MUST DO list when travelling here. A.J. Hackett (the owner of many of the jump sites) introduced bungee jumping to New Zealand in the late 1980's and it immediately became a major hit considering that the mountainous landscapes of New Zealand provided a perfect playground for these extreme jumps. Because of its long history and popularity here, all of the jumps include the most modern equipment that make the jump safer and more comfortable.

The morning of the jump, April 14th was finally here. Scrambling down from the pod bed on top of our camper van I was wide awake and anxious to go! I had talked about this bungee jump to all my friends and family for the past year and it was always the first thing I blabbed on about when asked what I was going to do in New Zealand. My parents were fully aware of my intentions to jump and excited to hear about it after they knew I was still alive. As my brother teased me when I was little, I found it entertaining to stir up the stress in my mother, who although I knew was mostly comfortable with the event, couldn't help but worry a little (it's a mother thing I guess.) Likewise I couldn't help but be the evil daughter that I am and tell her the date I would be jumping right after she specifically requested that I not tell her until after the jump. I hopped on the bus that day completely fearless as we were lugged to the top of the canyon. Once in our harnesses we glided across the canyon in a small cart on cables that dropped us off in the giant gondella hanging in the middle of the canyon. With plenty of time to look down into the abyss of open air where I would soon be flying, I became suddenly giddy and impatient. No fears or concerns possessed me and I started to wonder if my nerves would eventually kick in once I was standing on the edge. My time came and as I hobbled to the plank, I still felt at ease, but about to burst from the overload of excitement boiling up in me.

Toes barely edging off the end of the plank, heart thundering to a summer storm, I made a quick peek down as if to see where I would land. With a shot of anticipation, after all the waiting I had gone through for this moment, I almost took the dive before instructed to. Pausing for an instant, I inhaled deeply, allowing background sounds to be conquered by adrenaline and excitement, and listened only for the words “3…2…1…BUNGEE!” Like a robot, I obeyed the command with legs that were programmed to bend and spring off the platform at the sound of this word. I cannot forget that first moment when I could no longer sense any physical connection to the earth and I seemed to hover gracefully for one eternal second of release before plummeting toward the river below. Although gravity frantically reeled me in like a bold, unlucky fish that got itself into a snag, it had no idea that I had it fooled (hopefully). Gravity thought it was about to take me to my end, but right before I shattered upon its threatening fist, the bungee caught, slurped me up for a moment, and as if to tease gravity, sent me diving down again. I felt like a lightning bolt bursting with energy that could not be controlled. Then a sudden calm came over me as if this release had refreshed me and all I wanted to do was breathe in this incredible feeling. Briefly becoming a little disoriented and dizzy from a rush of blood flooding to my head, I gave a few tugs to the latch that would detach my feet until it flipped me upright. While I dangled in open air, I could not believe the jump of my life was over as it repeatedly flashed through my memory. I gazed off at the absolute tranquility of the lush world around me, yet soaked in the all ecstasy that this occasion had brought to me.



Cadbury Chocolates and Mochaccinos

Although not originally invented in New Zealand, Cadbury's presence here is undeniable. Every small convenience store or tourist shop is loaded with shelves full of all the popular Cadbury treats as well as the ones exclusively created in the Dunedin factory (a city located on the south east coast of South Island.) While in Dunedin, I had the opportunity to go on a tour of the famous factory and learn all about the chocolate-making process as well as the unique secrets that Cadbury uses to make their special chocolates and sweets. I found it interesting to see a display of the broken down process that the cocoa beans go through separating the cocoa butter from the cocoa mass before being combined with milk and sugar to form the basic milk chocolate bar. We also learned all New Zealand's contribution to the Cadbury name with their four famous treats, the Jaffas, Pineapple Lumps, Moro, and Pinky. Being on the Hershey's chocolate tour twice, I must say that this tour was 10 times better! Every room we entered seemed to promise a new chocolate bar or two for us. And not just a tiny bite size peice of chocolate, but the normal large chocolate bars that satisfy every chocolate craving. I soon discovered my new favorite, the Mighty Perky Nana, a milk chocolate bar with sugary banana flavours inside (definitely designed for kids,  but when it comes to candy im still a child.) Halfway through the tour though, I wasn't able to keep up with the gobbling down of chocolate and ended up with a lumpy sweatshirt pouch full of free bars to munch on later!

Although I do love chocolate, I would not quite classify myself as a chocoholic. However, I will admit that I have a strong addiction to Mochaccinos and the way they serve them in New Zealand. I order them so frequently on campus that the lady who makes it for me knows exactly how I like mine made. I'll approach and immediately she'll ask "Mochaccino, one sugar, two marshmallows?" The first time she asked me if I wanted marshmallows I was a bit confused, but curious I replied "Sure." Originally, I thought that marshmallows in a coffee sounded kind of funny, but I've learned that its actually normal here to have marshmallows in a Mochaccino. Now a Mochaccino is not a Mochaccino to me without one white and one pink (strawberry) marshmallow. There's something quite soothing about sipping slowly on the chocolate powdered foam (my favorite part!) created from the steamed milk with little bits of marshmallow dissolving in your mouth. Then as you get through the foam to the milky, choclately espresso combination, your mouth is suddenly awakened by the warm, rich flavor as it washes down your throat and lights you up with energy. On my travels through the South Island, I couldn't resist trying Mochaccinos from many of the cute Espresso Shops and I was delighted with every one of them.

Here are some pictures of the delicious Mochaccinos I had along the way (the first one you see was my favorite from the town of Wanaka! MOCHACCINO DELUXE!!!)

Climbing the Glay-See-Er was SWEET AS!

Ka Roimata o Hinehukatere (The tears of Hinehukatere) is the Maori name for Franz Josef Glacier located on the West Coast of the South Island. It is said in Maori legends that Hinehukatere had a passion for climbing the mountains in the Southern Alps, but one day her lover, Wawe was swept away by an avalanche. The Franz Josef Glacier was then formed from Hinehukatere's tears as they flowed down the mountain and froze.

As we rounded the corner out of the woods and into carved out valley made up of rocks and streams, our eyes landed upon the magnificent glacier whose glistening white crystals poured down from the mountains meeting with mixtures of mud and rock. Approaching the white field, we suited up into the jackets and pants provided to us and attached the spiky crampons to our giant boots. With the crunch of loose ice and slush beneath our feet, we made our way over the glacier, slipping through crevices and tunnels of slick ice that illuminated all around us with a blue glow. I was in what seemed to be the Ice Age, although it must have been the end of the Ice Age as there was a constant dripping and the ice seemed to be melting slowly. In fact, when we set up for climbing up the steep masses of ice, the bolts that anchored the ropes to the top had to be changed every once in a while so that the melting ice wouldn't make them to come loose and cause someone to fall.

Tied into the rope, with ice axes in my hands, I was ready to try this new type of climbing. I thought about the movie, Vertical Limit and the insanely ridiculous scene where the main character jumps from one cliff to another and miraculously sticks it with his climbing axes.

Digging my spiky toes and sharp axes into the ice wall one at a time, I imagined how fun it would be to reenact this scene right now. I also realized how similar this was to normal rock climbing by the way you have to carefully keep track of your balance as well as scope out nice jugs or lips in the rock (ice) where your fingers (axe) and feet can get a good grip. However, having a rainstorm of ice shower down in your face with every whip of the axe definitely made it a new, unique experience.

Back in the town of Franz Josef, I kept overhearing a lot of the locals or glacier guides speaking about the "glay-see-er." While noticing the difference in pronunciation, it wasn't until I heard the word again from our Kiwi friend who was traveling with us that I really paid attention to how funny it sounded when he pronounced it. Teasingly, the rest of us all began to poke fun at the word "glay-see-er" and have now found it necessary to pronounce it that way in attempt to blend in with the Kiwi's. Throughout my time in New Zealand, I have realized that there aren't really any major adjustments in the way people speak here. There are some words with special pronunciation like "glay-see-er," such as"earplane" (airplane) or "brudge" (bridge) which are typically easy to understand, but on occasions result in a "what did you say?" And who knew that tomato sauce is ketchup, chips are fries, crisps are chips, lifts are elevators, and jandels are flip-flops. There are also some fun expressions that I've taken a liking to, one of the most popular being "sweet as" which is the same as saying something is "awesome." You can even customize this expression by trading "sweet" in for another word such as "nasty" or "hot." In general, I catch myself giggling from time to time over new expressions I hear from my Kiwi friends, but I enjoy picking up on their lingo and using it every now and then.