The Fat Question
Repeatedly on this trip I've been asked by fat british people why americans are so fat. This is deeply irritating. To be asked by an in shape person to speak for all of america on obesity is irritating enough, but unbearable with the added hypocracy. So what I usually say is, "I don't know, how come you're so fat?" Or, "I know it's horrible isn't it, we're almost as fat as the British." Or, "Oh the Brits are equally fat, we're just more concerned about it and have a more exhaustive press." No I don't say any of those things, what I do say is, "I think what it is possibly is that they eat too much and don't exercise enough." Which, I realize, is only slightly less snotty than the three above.
The vast majority of the people commenting on the States to me have never been there, which is interesting. Occasionally I'll get someone on their way who says something to me like, "Well we're planning on flying into LA and then driving to: Vegas, the Grand Canyon, throughout Utah, up to Yellowstone, back down to Yosemite, then the coast road down to LA. We've got about 12 days which we figure will be ample time." Apparently they think since you can fit the States on the same piece of paper as your average European nation it must be approximately the same size. At first I tried in earnest to explain just how impossible their planned itinerary was, then I jsut gave up and wished them luck. Let's hope they figure it out in AZ and not 11 days into WY with no airport for 500 miles or so.
For those of you who long to see a little Cockney slang in action it's featured in the Soderberg movie, "The Limey" starring the guy who played General Zod in Superman II whose name escapes me. Also for more interesting tidbits on the language check out my buddy Mason's blog which you can convienently link to just off to the right here by clicking on "Mason" under "We the people." He also has some great stuff about the american experience abroad.
Some Human Stuff
The first night up at the Welcome Flat hut I got out the minnie speakers I brought (they're about the size of a deck of cards) and set them up on one of the kitchen tables at the request of the Danish boys. I asked around a bit to make sure no one would mind and then put on some Coltrane. We sat around a while and played some card game that seemed to be a combination of war and shithead and texas hold'em. Most of the Kiwi guys were outside drinking vodka coke (yuck. The last time I drank vodka coke was with Josh Clisby in his kitchen after school in the 9'th grade or so. NOt because we liked it you understand, but because we could somehow get away with it without anyone knowing. I'm pretty sure we both thought it was retched stuff.) and joking with each other. Then one of them came in and said, "Excuse me, could you turn down that awful stuff? Some of the lads outside are a bit put off by your, (then he imitated the sound of Coltrane's horn with his mouth!)" So I of course told him to get fucked. No I turned it off, said, "All you had to do is ask, didn't mean to offend anyone." And then had a half hour psychotic episode in my head in which I expounded to all the "offended lads" outside about their lack of taste/culture. I calmed myself by rationalizing that anyone who thought Coltrane was awful wasn't someone I wanted a lot to do with anyway.
The other day here in Queenstown while walking from reception to the stairs with Chris I noticed a potatoe on the ground. A great big washed potatoe, so I said, "Hey there's a potatoe on the ground." Chris looked at the potatoe and said "Ay (pronounced like I, meaning yes)" and kept walking. Later I noticed someone had picked the potatoe up off the ground on the ground floor and placed it on top of the firehose on the 1'st floor. Which I found even more bizarre.
Aussies call a round of drinks a "shout", as in "Who's shout is it? Oh it's my shout." Also when someone has bought you a drink they've shouted for you.
Kiwi's say "sweet az" when something's just fine, kind of like we use "right on" or something along those lines. I'm still not sure if they're saying "sweet ass" or "sweet as" but it sounds like sweet az. They also say "no worries" at times when I couldn't possibly imagine there being a worry. Like when asking a bar person for a beer the bar person will respond with no worries. They also distinctly do not say "fush and chups" for "fish and chips" in my experience. What they do say, oddly, is "Fish and chips." I've been waiting to hear someone say fush and chups, and no one has. I'm unsure where the viscious fush and chups rumour comes from.
Last night I had more to write today but as usual I've forgotten it, so more later when it all comes back to me.
Cockney Rhyming Slang
I promised this a while ago so here it is. Cockney Rhyming slang is my favourite and I think the most clever slang in all of english. My friend Sam, who delightfully uses the slang around me now because she knows I dig it, tells me that technically this is South London slang. In order to be considered cockney one has to be born within the sound of the Bow Bells, and she wasn't. Here's how it works: the noun is replaced by the first word of a two word phrase, the second of which rhymes with the noun in question. For example, if one were to say "I haven't got a Danny." What you're saying is "I haven't got a clue." Because Danny Larue rhymes with clue. Sometimes you say the entire replacement phrase, in these instances I've wrapped them in "". Enjoy.
Bread and Butter= Nutter (ex. That blokes a real bread.)
Apples and Pears= Stairs (ex. The loo is just up the apples.)
Britney Spears= Beers (ex. Drinkin a couple britneys.)
Hampstead Heath= Teeth (ampsteads)
"Sky Rocket"= Pocket
Tommy Trinda= Winda (window)
Packet off Dreft= Left
Stingin Nettle= Kettle (put ont he stinga)
"Deep Sea Diver"= Fiver
"Ayrton Senna"= Tenner
Veera Lynns= Skins (rolling paper)
Oily Rag= Fag (cigarette)
Salmon and Trout= Snout (" ")
Ruby Murray= curry
Plates of Meat= Feet
Frog and Toad= Road
Dog and Bone= Phone
Pigs Ear= Beer
Pony= 100 quid note
Pony and Trap- Crap
Mince Pies= Eyes
Jack and Danny= Fanny
Rosey Lee= Tea
Jam Jar= Car
"Adam and Eve"= Believe
Earther Kitt= Shit
Thru'penny bits= Tits
Bobby Moore= Sure
Rob a Dub= Pub
Kitchen Sink= Chink
Sceptic Tank= Yank
Nelson Mandela= Stella (artois)
"Brahms and List"= Pissed (drunk)
"Trouble and Strife"= Wife
"Skin and Blister"= Sister
Hillbilly= Chilly
Sherbert Dab= Cab
Whistle and Flute= Suit
Currant Bun= Sun (the london paper)
"Cream Crackered"= Nackered (tired)
Danny Larue= Clue
Come on, how cool is that? Today I'm doing a cocktail clinic for Tristan and his exceedingly nice and attractive staff at 47, the bar that was nice enough to put on the Series, with sound, for little old me. Hope you all enjoy the Saaf London (that's how they say South, there's no "th" sound in Saaf London) rhyming slang. It's raining.
Sweet isn't it.
I just watched the Sox take the series with a guy from Colorado and two Aussies. The Kiwi's milling around were very supportive and always up for a good time, amused at me jumping around a bar like a lunatic. I don't know if I've said enough about how great the people are here, it's hard to describe really. Let's just say that it's no wonder my friend Lance is such a good guy coming from an exceptional country such as this. Oh and for why Kiwi's call themselves such check out Lance's comment on the last post. He also gets to the bottom of the Anzac mystery. They're a flavor of cookie here, amoung other more meaningful things.
If I couldn't be in Boston for this I'm glad I was in NZ.
Kiwi's
People in NZ refer to themselves as Kiwi's. It's their national, nearly extinct, nocturnal flightless bird. It's on their one dollar coin, like the Loon is on the Canadian one dollar coin. The Canadians call those Loonies, but they don't call themselves Loonies like the Kiwi's call themselves Kiwi's.
Kiwi fruit is actual the chinese gooseberry that the New Zealanders started growing over here in the later part of the 19'th century and decided to rename the Kiwi fruit. It's not native to NZ.
3-0 BABY!
I just walked the Sox beat up St. Louis in a sports bar, in the middle of the day, by myself. WOOO HOOO! I'm having trouble containing myself. The kiwi staff got a big kick out of me cheering at the tv alone. Pedro got saved in the first 3, but was brilliant in 4-7. Anyway you all know this, I'm just excited I got to see it. Tomorrow I'm headed to the same bar to watch game 4. We can do it, I know we can. My favorite part was hearing the sox fans in St. Louis cheering, "LET'S GO RED SOX." All the way over here on the other side of the world.
I'm in Queenstown by the way, maybe the most stunning little mountain town on the planet. Think Telluride with water. I'm debating buying new boots to go back up on the tracks, but my legs are still shot so I'm going to have to hold off for a few more days. Enough time to watch the Sox in the series at least.
GO SOX!
I should elaborate more on the past rushed postings but I'm not much for thinking right now. I'm leaving out a lot of the human stuff, I know. I'll work on that.
Glacier/Copeland Track
This is bound to be kind of a long one, fair warning.
Thursday I went for a walk on the Franz Joseph glacier with a guide and 9 other people. You show up at the office around 7:30am and they outfit you with big clunky uncomfortable boots, Talonz (like crampons without the spikes on the sides) and a goretex jacket, then you all pile in a bus with your daypacks and drive 10 minutes to the carpark at the glacier. The aproach is about 4km through a rainforest and then a long rocky glacial valley by a river. Our guide's name was Astrid and she had a much larger pack and a full size pick axe on her back, oh and shorts, all the guides wear shorts. I think it's a macho thing. Once at the glacier you take your talonz out of the bag and strap them on your feet, they give each person an ice axe and it's up the glacier you go behind your trusty guide. Your guide and various other people wearing the same Franz Joseph uniform who've beat us to the glacier begin and continue to hack away at the glacier with their Pick Axe's. They carve steps in the glacier, they fill in cravasses with huge chunks of ice. They whack themselves shelves to stand on as the whack away at the glacier. It was a day of destruction and water, lot's of water. Extrememly cold water. The glacier can grow at up to a meter a day, and shrink even faster, not as slow moving as I'd always thought. We climbed up to the top of the second ice fall, (I'm still kind of unsure of what exactly that means) through various tunnels and cravass like openings and ice stairs and had lunch in a spot where you could look up and see the remaining 6km of glacier, or down the valley clear to the ocean. Stunning spot. Most of the guides go surfing when they get done whacking away at the glacier with big pick axes all day. Hiking a glacier's kind of like a giant ice stairmaster from hell, I think I went to bed at 7 that night. I can't imagine doing it with a pick axe.
The next morning we all (Chris, Peter and Kristian) got up early and caught a bus to the beginning of the Copeland trail for the 17km trail to the Welcome Flat hut where we'd spend the night. Some advice for anyone thinking about doing this, or any other hike in NZ. Bring big burly boots, as if you bring "light weight hikers" like I did NZ will shred them in a matter of minutes. I have 9 tears in my boots, oh well, it didn't really matter that much as I'll explain later. Also WOOD THINGS ARE SLIPPERY! DO NOT STEP ON THEM! Oh and bring twice as much chocolate as you could possibly think you'd want, and almost no clothes. Xtra clothes I mean.
The Copeland track starts with a river and continues up through the rainforest into the mountains along the copeland river. What I mean by it starts with a river is that you have to walk through the river, and 25 or so creeks and rivers on up the track. Big boots or not your feet are going to get wet as the 1'st river is about thigh deep. Why didn't we just take our boots off you ask? Well we did, but it turns out not to matter as the track is really a giant mud puddle and your feet are soaked within minutes even if you carried them across the river. Anyway the track is gorgeous if a little wet and we spent the day climbing up I don't know how many 1,000 feet over wet rock and across those cool suspended one person at a time foot bridges and things like that. My pack was far too heavy, as always. One day I'll learn. Once up at the hut there were 30 other people who'd all just done the same thing sitting around drinking and cooking noodles and rice on campstoves in the kitchen. The kitchen is a bunch of steel counter tops and 2 sinks to wash up in and a couple of picknick tables, you bring your own stove. 100 yards from the hut are natural hot pools with amazing red and green mud in them. We spent a lot of time in the hot pools that night. The next day we took small packs the 7km up to the Douglas Rock hut and back to Welcome Flat over some very rugged terrain and more rivers, in the rain. The views from Douglas are fantastic, or so we've been told as it rained the whole time and we couldn't see 10 feet. Good fun though, lots of laughs about how wet and scrappy we were. The morning after we walked back out to the beginning of the track again, in the rain. Ponchos work great by the way, I recommend them to everyone. Through all this I'm happy to report that I've only bruised my right elbow and my left knee (refreshingly, something on the left is not working) is a little jinky. Besides that just your usual blisters and such. Oh and I was sick the whole time, some kind of coughing, sneezing, fever thing. So by the time we got down the bottom on the 3'rd day to meet our bus, after 60km in 4 days up and down over rugged stuff we were all a little tired and beat up. This is where the adventure begins.
We were supposed to meet the bus at 5ish at the bottom of the track on SH6, the road. But we left a little early and got there at 2, so 3 hours to fight the 1,987,843 sand flies and go crazy. A couple of people from the hut were heading in to town and offered us a ride which we happily took, we'd just call the bus company when we got there and arrange a meeting in town. This isn't as sketchy as it seems, there's only one road, and the bus runs one way down it, and the town was before the track on the one road, so no problem right? Well we got to towna nd called Stray, the bus company who told us no problem just wait at the Ivory Towers hostel and the driver will pick you up there at 4. So we had a beer and some fries and then went and waited in front of the hostel in the rain for an hour. He never came, we called and said "hey where's the bus?" They said "He was there looking for you, you weren't there." We said "We were standing in front of the sign, the bus is bright orange, he wasn't here." They said "He says he was there . . ." We had an argument and got stranded in Fox Glacier for the night. Fox is just south of Franz Joseph, lots of glaciers. The Danish boys really needed to get on this specific bus, so we wandered around town asking people if we could pay them to drive us to where the bus was supposed to be. This isn't as hard as it might seem as the Fox only has 2 streets and 4 bars. Byt he 3'rd bar we'd found two guys who'd not only do it, but do it for nothing, only in the morning. Sid the trucker and Peter the sheep shearer. We bought them a bunch of beer and all got up 5 hours later to get into the back of Peter's Kia for the ride to Haast, where the bus would be. Here, for your enjoyment is an actual piece of conversation between Peter and Sid:
P: Hey Sid that's the Fucking beach over there mate.
S: Aw yeah? Isn't the bech fucking great?
P: yeah, except for when it's fucking raining like this fucking week.
S: well fuck that then!
P: Aw fuck, hey Sid that's the fucking Jacob's River.
S: Right, isn't that that fucking aussie wine?
P: No, that's fucking Jacob's Creek.
S: Fuck yeah it is!
I could hardly contain myself by the end of the hour and a half. We caught the bus and figured out what had happened, I'll tell you all later as my times almost up. I know this feels a bit rushed, but I'm scared if it's too long it won't post, etc.
On the hour and a half drive from Fox to Haast, on the only road, we saw one other car.
GO SOX!!!
Wow, see what happens when I leave the country for a little while. History, every time. I can't believe it, I mean I can, of course I can.
I've, at long last found a fast internet connection. It's in a big red bus beneath a glacier. Who'd of thunk? For those of you confused on how to reach me: you can either post comments here where it says comments or you can email me at jonsanter@yahoo.com. I get them both, no worries.
Yesterday I made a bowie knife all day with an amazing man named Steve Martin, no a different steve martin. We sarted witha piece of hard steel and 6 hours later I have this beautiful thing that has lots of forge marks in it. I've exaustively photographed this process I'll bore you all with it when I get home and put it up on the web.
2 days ago we feried across to the South Island, spent the night on a farm, hiked 20k of coastline then crossed the top of the southern Alps to arrive in Barrytown on the South West coast of NZ. This is breathtaking country. It's as if California's coast, Montana, Nova Scotia and a rain forest were all mixed into one place. Rugged, abandoned, basically perfect. 1,000k of coast and 30,000 people. We spend hours on the bus driving by beaches with nobody on them. Still lots of rain but it doesn't really matter. Today we went to the Bushmans establishment for some possum pie (it's not very good) and watched a history of the deer in NZ. Deer were introduced for hunting and then multiplied out of control until they were literally eating the country, so NZ declared open season on them and hired professional hunters to hunt full time. Then they discovered a market for the meat in Germany and the price went through the roof, so everyone startede killing them untill there were almost none left. In order to keep the venison industry going they decided to start farming them, but first they had to capture them alive. After some deliberatioin on how best to do this the good old boys down here decided the best way would be to hover above the deer in a helicopter and have the passenger jump out onto the back of the deer and wrestle it to the ground. OH yeah, I've seen the tape. People did this for a living. Then some really smart guy invented the net gun, so now you just had to shoot this net over them from a moving helicopter traveling over rough terrain at full speed. Much easier.
Tomorrow I go up on the Franz Joseph glacier with a guide and 5 ohters to tromp around on the snow and ice and wear shorts and have a grand old time, the day after I finally head into the mountains for some actual camping with Chris, Peter and Christian.
Chris is Scottish and no one in NZ can understand him, so I act as his interpreter.
check in at the hostels usually goes like this.
Hostel: "What's you're name."
Chris: "Chris"
Hostel: "I'm sorry?"
Me: "His name's Chris."
Chris: "He's my interpreter."
Hostel: "I'm sorry?"
Me: "He said I'm his interpreter."
Chris: "He's from fuckin California mate."
Hostel: "I'm sorry?"
You get the picture. Peter and Christian are from Denmark. They both speak flawless unaccented english. Everyone of them is 6,1 plus. I'm a midget. Pictures, not to worry, pictures will be forthcoming.
I know I haven't written much, this is mainly due to shitty and slow internet connections. But a lot of the last 2 weeks has been on the bus. In fact it's started to feel like a whorl wind tour of NZ's supermarkets as we stop to buy supplies constantly. Nice markets, if that's your thing.
We get up at 7:30 or 8, shower, get on the bus. We eat some kind of thing from our plastic bags of supermarket food, we drive to some attraction, get off the bus wander around. Back on the bus, 1.5 hours later we stop for coffee, we wander around closer to the bus. BAck on the bus drive to destination, check into room between 3 and 7, get stuff organized, have a drink, play some pool, write in journal. Try to figure out what to do tomorrow when we get off the bus. I'm excited to get off the bus for 3 days in the bush.
Yankee Bastards
In an unrelated travel post . . . I just watched the Sox get whacked, and was the only screaming/moaning person in a bar full of British people who couldn't care less. Oh and I missed the first 2 games of the series, so I get to be broken hearted all at once. I'm sorry I can't be there to commiserate with you P, there is, as always, next year. I've got my hat on permanent inside out till I hear otherwise.
Jesus is my lead off man. And about those rings, well they know where they belong now don't they.
Tomorrow I take the ferry across to the south island, the place I've been waiting to go. Excited. Some random stuff:
The toilets here have 2 buttons, one for half a flush, one for a whole flush. This was initially baffling as they're not marked as such.
The paper towel dispensers have a brand name on them and then the slogan, "For a clean fresh towel every time" as if this was some kind of breakthrough in hygenic technology.
Meat Pies. Every Cafe is full of meat pies and sausage rolls, which are equally disgusting.
Fellas, if you're really into fat pasty British girls, then New Zealand is the place for you. I mean if that's your thing buy a ticket right now!
More on that, and the overwhelming hipocracy in anti-american sentiment abroad later.
GO SOX!!!!!
Waitomo / Cathedral Cove
As it turns out it's easier to post email's home from Asia than from NZ. Many of the places we're stopping in don't have internet connections and when they do they're dial up so this page takes about 10 min to load, etc. NZ is a small sparcely populated place, the Driver keeps saying things like, "We're coming into a a rather large city city now of, oh about 50,000 . . ." 3.9 million people in the whole country and 1.4 of them live in Auckland. The south island is supposed to be even less populated, I can't wait. I should be there within the next 4-5 days.
It also turns out that I'm not claustrophobic, I always thought I was. So on Wed I decided to go spelunking, or "caving" as they call it here in NZ. (they, in general use the language better than we do. They "have a shower" they don't take one. They fill forms in, not out, etc.) The Waitomom caves are not to be missed according to everyone so I signed on for some underwater white (black) water rafting in an inner tube. They took us out to a Quonset hut in the middle of a sheep field and put us (myself and 3 others) into 10mm wetsuits and galoshes and then we marched across the field-o-sheep (who stare at you as you go by, all of them at once)to a ladder descending 30' or so through a very small hole. At the bottom our guide said "well you've all passed the claustrophobia test. Now crawl through there." An even smaller hole. At one point the hole he wanted me to go through was so small I got stuck and had to back track. This illicited a minor internal claustrophobic crisis, but all's well. For the next 2.5 to 3 hours he lead us through a maze of caves and water pools. Oh helmets, we're all wearing miner's helmets with the light in the front, black 10mm suits and white galoshes. I kept whacking my head on things, good thing for the helmet. We swam through pools and climbed around stalagmites and a crawled/floated through exceedingly small spaces. We stopped and turned off our headlamps to look at the glow worms (shagging canabalistic toxic shit maggots, I'll explain that to whomever when I get back). Our guide, Brad, warned us to not twiddle our fingers in the water or the eels would bite us, oh and not to bleed if at all possible so they dont' go into a frenzy. We walked around looking for eels, and found one. I know this sounds a bit scary but it wasn't, at all. No rafting, no fast water, didn't do any of the things described in the brocure. Maybe we accidentally got taken on a different trip, who knows. It was fantastic, one of the best things I've ever done.
After the caving they drove us to a fancy beach town where we stayed in un fancy dorms and got up early to walk to Cathedral Cove. Kiwi's use the word "walk" where we would use, oh say "outdoor excursion." The walk to Cathedral Cove was 3 miles or so up hill for 2. A great and unexpected morning workout. Picture a perfect light sand beach in your head surrounded by tan cliffs and sub tropical flora. That's Cathedral Cove. There wasn't anyone else there, which keeps happening and I'm always surprised. This country feels untouched in a way I didn't think still existed. The DOC (department of conservation) is in charge of conserving 1/3 of the country and they do a hell of a job. When we reserve land and wildlife in the states it usually means you aren't allowed to hunt/log/mine on it. In NZ it means you can't alter it at all, you can't take a shell off the beach. It's fantastic. They're an outdoor oriented people, to a huge degree. I can't tell you how much time I've spent listening to them, all of them, talk about the trees. They love their trees. I'm going to post this, as I'm sure it will take a while to go through.
The next post will be about the Haka, followed by one about all the Cockney slang I've been learning from my friend Sam. Thanks for all the emails and comments. Oh and Lance, thanks for everything bro. Amazing place you have here.
Go Sox!
Tractor
1 point-non moving tractor
2p- working tractor
5p- tractor dealer
-5p= mis id'ing another piece of equipment as a tractor
10 bonus points!- animals humping
played much like "punch buggy" or pididel or bididel, only without the punching and kicking. We played the Driver all the way up to Paihia and he beat us soundly, 26 to 11.
I've been trying to post, but blogger seems to be hacked often here in NZ. I spent a couple of days in Auckland walking around, the museum, I hiked Rangitoto the volcano right off the coast. The good news is that NZ is an astoundingly beautiful country and Green, 98% green. The bad news is the reason it's so green is that it rains, all the time, all day long. Today being the first sunny day I've had since arriving. Yesterday I took a unimog (a giant offroad troop transport converted for tourists) all the way up 90 mile beach, on the beach to Cape Reinga, where the Pacific and the Tasman sea meet at the very top of the country. You can actually stand on the tip of the country and watch the two oceans collide in front of you. I've taken pictures but I'm sure it won't convey the power of that place. We also went sandboarding on the giant sand dunes. You hike to the top of a big old dune with a boogy board, then you lay down on it propped up on your elbows and hold onto the front corners, braking with your feet as you go like hell for the river at the bottom. Not as scary as the shovel races in Angel Fire. I'll tell you all about those when I have a connection I trust more.
I'm about to take a boat out around the Bay of Islands, then tonight I go back down to Auckland for 1 night heading south at 8 tomorrow morning. I've decided to not rent/but a car and instead I've signed up with the "Stray" bus. Unlike "Magic" and the "Kiwi Experience" the Stray bus seems to be filled with other people around my age. I haven't seen an American yet, but more on that later too.
Auckland
I arrived in Auckland at 3 in the morning and took a taxi to my hostel, which is out of town in a quiet residential neighborhood. The next morning I awoke to rain. So I milled around for a while waiting for it to stop, but it didn't, so I grabbed an umbrella and headed to the museum. Great museum, like a miniture smithsonian. Then I walked downtown through the driving giant rain and walked around on Queen's street looking at all the stuff that's in every other comercial street in the world. Including btw Dunkin Donuts. I have spotted one Bo Sox hat. Although it might have been a fashion accessory cause I said, "Go Sox!" And he looked at me like I'd said, "Wooly muffin tummy!" The people are excedingly nice, as reported. Tomorrow I'll be hopping on a bus tour for 3 days. This one's supposed to not be full of 18yo's. I hope that's the case. I'm downtown now and writing this cause I don't know what else to do. Uninspired I know. So, I'll write more, and better, later. Rebecca, I can't drop you a line if you don't post your email address, so please do. right.
Tahiti Nui
Thank you all for your comments/emails. Natasha I can't even imagine how you're in fact Paulina's Mom and you don't know what Fernet is. What kind of hole in the universe exists for that one to slip through the cracks between you two? That's supposed to be funny, I don't know if it was. So . . I'm just off the ferry back on Tahiti Nui awaiting the bus to the airport and I figured I'd just pop in here and see if I was able to post. I didn't think the last post worked, but glad it did. This is boring, I'll get right to it.
I've dove 5 times in the last 3 days, not deeper than 90' but spectacular. The best diving of my life. I've finally figured out how to breath less, which makes it a lot more fun. I'll explain that later to those of you who care. I've mingled with black tipped reef sharks and white tipped reef sharks, big morea's (really big, bigger than the morea's in Antigua, his head was 10" around), hawksbill turtles and green back sea turtles, eagle rays and big tame sting rays. Tahiti underwater is fantastic, out of the water it's all right. I know that sounds kind of snobby but it's a strange place. All the charm of the third world and the prices of the south of france. I don't think I'll be coming back. One of my dive buddies just got back from getting her Dive Master in Malasia (spelling?) and tells me it's amazing and cheap. So next time a dive holiday in Malyasia (sp?). There are lots of cats, and lots of chickens. I'm not sure how that's possible. The bar in the middle of town played the 3 Jack Johnson albums non stop in chronological order. Roosters, as it turns out don't just crow at dawn, they let it go all night long starting at about 1 and going till 8 or so. En mass, and from a bit away, they sound like soccer moms at the big game. My bus, the last bus, leaves in a few moments, but NZ tomorrow, but an hour ago. Odd. OH, it's not that the french here are snooty, it's just that I don't speak french. In fact they've been very nice, people on vacation are nice. That's the thing. I'm rushing and not making sense. You'll here from me tomorrow. I'm planning on diving the Rainbow Warrior in NZ, speaking of the french. I hope it's not too cold.
Moorea
I'm on Moorea, the island just north of Tahiti Nui, and everything is very expensive including the internet, so let me just say this. As it turns out I'm not afraid of sharks, but I am afraid of transvestite hookers. I've been in the presense of both over the last 48 hours and only one has made me profoundly uncomfortable. There's not much to do here, I think that's the point. The locals really do sing and dance often, in fact there are some behind me playing guitar and singing right now. \i've spotted a bottle of Fernet, but have not partaken. I went to see a fire dance last night, but there wasn't a dance. The band did cover "My Way" the Sinatra song with full island flare, so that was fun. Everyone else here is french, so I haven't really talked to anyone for a few days. I'm very sunburned. I'll be here till tuesday then on to NZ where everything is cheaper and I'll post more about Tahiti.
Moorea
I'm on Moorea, the island just north of Tahiti Nui, and everything is very expensive including the internet, so let me just say this. As it turns out I'm not afraid of sharks, but I am afraid of transvestite hookers. I've been in the presense of both over the last 48 hours and only one has made me profoundly uncomfortable. There's not much to do here, I think that's the point. The locals really do sing and dance often, in fact there are some behind me playing guitar and singing right now. \i've spotted a bottle of Fernet, but have not partaken. I went to see a fire dance last night, but there wasn't a dance. The band did cover "My Way" the Sinatra song with full island flare, so that was fun. Everyone else here is french, so I haven't really talked to anyone for a few days. I'm very sunburned. I'll be here till tuesday then on to NZ where everything is cheaper and I'll post more about Tahiti.
