Notes from home
I've been thinking since before I left about travel and what it does for the mind. I mean besides all the clichéd but true stuff about expansion and growth. For me, and it's only on this trip that I've thought of it this way, it (travel) allows me to see things not only for the first time, but as if for the last time. There's a big difference in how the mind records visual info depending on circumstance, and I think the difference between first sight and last sight is significant. This is only true of course if you let yourself see this way, or rather think of yourself seeing this way as you're seeing things for both the first and last time. There's undoubtedly a better way to say that. Jetlag also does strange things to the mind, this post being a result of one of them.
Another thing with travel is that it bonds you to people with celerity. I know I haven't written much about my friends while on the bus, but I spent all day every day with them and I miss them. Towards the end a few of us even adopted nicknames for each other based on the characters in the bad spy books we were reading. I was Asher Flores but Nibbles just called me Ash. Sam (Nibbles) taught me all that cool slang and was nice enough to laugh at my jokes and let me play her obscure american indie rock. Kate who was wonderfully reserved and proper, but didn't think she was which made it even better. Chris my Scottish partner in crime whose translator I became as I tried secretly to master the accent (I do a pretty good Glaswegian after 5 weeks). And of course Ed (Dick Carriage) who spoke the Queens English and taught me great words like "bowser" (which is a great big thing that holds liquid) and kept us all laughing until woozy. We played a lot of pool, drank a bowser of Brittney’s, went on tours/walks/boats good and bad together. They're all warm, funny, generous people and I hope, unlike what I've written about above, that this is not the last time I will ever see them.
Tattoo
Part of my private itinerary for NZ was to get a rather large tattoo on the inside of my left forearm, up and around the band on my upper arm and ending at the shoulder. I know that sounds like an awful lot of work but the Maori designs work with negative space more than positive, so most of it would be left open. So I asked around and was told that the place to do it would be Christchurch, the last stop on my tour. I made an apointment at a place called Downunder Tattoo and took a cab over this morning to talk to the Gypsy. I'm unclear why so many tattoo artist choose strange nom de' plumes for themselves, but allready having been tattooed by guys named Spider and Slick I figured it was all good. Downunder's out in the industrial part of town, which I liked. I never trust the shops in prime locations, too much foot traffic, lots of cheesey flash work, etc. Temple Tattoo in Oakland was the most trustworthy shop I'd ever been to. They were by appointment only and you had to book 3-4 months in advance to get a session; foot traffic is irrelavent if you're really good. Anyhoo I talked to Gypsy, who owns his own shop up in Hamilton about what I basically wanted, how much space to cover, etc. I've also drawn the majority of my tattoos,so this was a departure in that way as well. I said something like, "I'm really interested inthe negative space aspect of Maori design, how they tell a story and highlight the body." Or some crap like that, and he said, "So you're looking for big, black and open." "Uh, yeah, wide open." He said no worries just give me a few minutes to work it up. He looked at my arma bit and then went in the back and I lingered around the front of the shop looking at all the shit on the walls and the t-shirts. West Coast choppers is huge even down here, unfortunately and the giant iron cross that's Jesse's symbol now adorns heaps of Kiwi boys and their back windows. He came back out with a big piece of flash, huge thivk black lines and placed the paper on my arm saying, "Powerful isn't it." It was, it was also the exact opposite of what I was looking for. It was symetrical and bordered and all in black rather than all open and just generally wrong. So I said, "Something like that, just all the black will be skin and the white black right?" and he said, "Yeah we could do it like that, but it won't be as powerful, but let's play with it." This guy's been tattooing for about 30 years, so I had a fair amount of trust for him. He put me in the chair and shaved my arm,aplied speed stick (preffered antipersperant of tattooist's everywhere) and then placed the carbon on it. When he took it off I looked at it a bit, this giant blue thing, a little larger than the tlingit design I have on my right forearm and then I said, "I'm gonna look at it a while, give me a minute." As an aside I've had this re-occuring dream about having a big fuzzy blue turnip or something on my left forearm and thinking it to be a huge bummer. It's always nice to wake up to my naked arm after that. So I walked around the parking lot out front looking at my forearma nd trying to picture what it would look like in negative. Then I went back inside and told him thanks but no thanks, I offered to pay him for his time, he refused and I walked out. Now I have a bald blue left arm, but nothing that won't come off in a couple days. Oh well, trust your gut. There were lots of other reasons as well, but that would be long and fairly boring.
Outside the hostel here in Christchurch is another giant chess set. I've been watching the locals play and a couple of the guys have game. Behind the chess set is a medium sized cathedral, classically styled. In front of the cathedral is a man reading from the bible standing on a step stool and next to him is a guy dressed up like Gandalf (Gandalf the Grey, beard and everything) standing on a wooden step ladder yelling about the PM and the big bang amoung other things. Next to him, continuing west is a Chippy and a Kebab truck and a giant sculpture that looks like the paper they wrap flowers in, that cone shape, without the flowers. Oh wacky NZ, how I'll mis you. I forgot to mention in my last post that I've discovered it is indeed possible to sleep when one is cold, wet and hungry on a boat in rough seas.
Christchurch
This may or may not be my last post from NZ as I return on wed and am unsure of how much time I want to spend recording the trip while I'm still doing it. I'm looking forward to coming home believe it or not. I'd really like to eat something spicy, this is not possible in NZ as even the hot sauce is misslabeled. This trip wasn't as altering as the last one. I contribute that to NZ being an english speaking 1'st world country and all of the sub reasons that go along with that. I have learned a lot, both about NZ and the UK. I can tell you the difference between a waka and a wekka, a hangi and a hongi. I can distinguish between the Manchester, South London, and the public school accent. No one seems to know why the private schools in england are called public schools. Ed offered that the entrance exams are open to the public, but that doesn't really make sense. I've expanded the Cockney dictionary a bit, I'll be using it when I get home so be prepared to not understand anything I'm saying for a while. Cricket bats are made from willow. Also, no one knows why the british call a sweater a jumper; Woody the doctor offered that he thought it had something to do with the knitting stitch. Interesting. I have had a lot of laughs and onlythe occasional series mood swing, although I think that was due to the vodka which I'm not going to drink any more as it's secretly disgusting. I've become proficient at obscure semi-useless things: the one handed paper fold, multi pocket filing, ipod/digital camera navigation, lightning-fast-2-minute-hung-over-early-morning packing, etc.
Wed I fly out of christchurch at 7:40 in the morning and then:
Christ-Auckland
Auckland to Papeete
Papeete to LA
LA to San Francisco
something crazy like 20+ hours of flying.
Christchurch is a gorgeous little city.
Stuart Island
I'm obligated to post, as this is the furthest south I'm sure I'll ever get. I'm on the small island just below NZ, there are penguins here. Blue Penguins to be exact, though they aren't really blue and I've yet to see any alive as they're nocturnal and slippery. I'm scared of the load time on this computer so let's just say I've beaten the locals on the giant chessboard outside the hotel (one can walk around on it) and besides that I've been enjoying the awful food and brilliant hospitality. Home in a little over a week, I'm planning on longer posting's this afternoon.
Lots of birds here, all sorts.
4 more years
So to celebrate the Bush, Cheney victory I've organized a day of GOP activities. First we're going to bomb the local abortion clinic (my "save the babies" initiative), then an afternoon of clear cutting fun in the 1,000 year old indigenous forest ("healthy forests act"). After dinner I figured we'd all go out and pour motor oil on the ducks ("protecting our wetlands") and then wrap ourselves in the stars and stripes for a fun filled evening of gay bashing ("Americans for morality). Then I was hoping to sleep with a black woman and deny it fervently the next day (see I'm open to all kinds of things). In fact I'm going to deny all of it even as I push/plan to do it all over again. Woo Hoo!
Well at least the Sox won the series.
Jetboating
My friend Chris, the Glaswiegen, is old friends with a girl who runs a bar down here named Louise. She's friends with the head driver for the local jetboating operation, Shotover Jetboats. So today, as a birthday present she took Chris and I down to the river and we went for a ride. A jetboat is a twin engined 500hp jet propelled craft that can cary about 20 people and operate in 6 inches of water. A rather serious $250,000 piece of machinery. When we got there Louise's friend came over and told us that we could either go on the commercial tour or he'd take us out personally. So of course we opted to go out with him and 2 drivers in training. They gave us 3/4 length rain coats and life preservers and we all climbed up on the trailer and into the empty boat. Then the driver got in and proceeded to scare the shit out of all of us for the next 30 minutes. They are very fast, and they pride themselves on how close to the rocks/cliffs in and around the river they can get. On the commercial tour they're restricted as to how close they can run, but luckily we weren't on the commercial tour. These guys can drive, and they love it. They also really like to barrel at a cliff full speed and then at the last second spin the boat into a 360 in an impossibly small space where you really think you're about to kiss a wall/tree/rock. It was, well loads of fun, big wet fun. Everytime he'd spin the boat out and soak us all he'd look over at all of us and say with deep sincerity, "Sorry mate." I'm doing a poor job of discribing this so I'll stop now. I'll be leaving Queenstown and continueing south on Friday morning. 2 weeks left till I fly: Christchurch to Auckland, Auckland to Papeete, Papeete to LA, LA to San Francisco, in one day. That's sure to be loads of fun. I'm beginning to get upset about the election, and my absentee ballot still hasn't come. Thanks to everyone for all the birthday wishes.
Happy Birthday Cin!
