Eau so Fresh.

We have had 2 days of rain.

I can almost hear people's eyes rolling all the way up in Vancouver.

If you knew what rain is like here, you would know that two days of rainfall here is like 2 weeks of rainfall back home.

New Zealand doesn't mess around with its precipitation. When it rains, it pours.

But now, as I sit and type this, there's lots of blue sky and that gorgeous golden light that seems especially golden in those late summer evenings. We're heading into Indian Summer with the coming month (as March is the Southern Hemisphere's September).

But back to rain. A place famous for its rainfall is Milford Sound. Scotty and I didn't see a drop of it while we were there, but it boasts an annual rainfall of 20 feet (Vancouver doesn't even get 4 feet annually). Scotty and I were reading some of the random facts about the rainfall in Milford and how the residents don't say it's raining unless the rain is averaging close to an inch an hour (no joke, the fiordlands are known to get up to 10 inches of rain in a 24 hour period, and they consider it a drought if it doesn't rain for four days as many of the waterfalls begin to dry up). The ocean ecosystem in the fiord is very unique due to this heavy rainfall- it actually has a layer of freshwater (up to 20 feet) laying on top of the salt water.

A SUMMER EVENING IN MILFORD SOUND

NOTICE HOW THE GRANDEUR OF THE MOUNTAIN DWARFS THE SIZEABLE BOAT BELOW

WE LOOKED INTO GOING OUT ON KYAKS, BUT A FEW HOUR RENTAL WOULD HAVE SET US BACK A FEW HUNDRED DOLLARS... I'M OK WITH LOOKING.

We didn't have any flash flood rains, but we did have our very first sand fly experience.

Holy hell.

I have never been one to willingly crush an insect (just today I had a heart-sink moment when I thought I had vacuumed up a live moth followed by jubilation when I found him to be uninjured on the floor... serious ear-to-ear grin as I put him outside), but I found that even my bleeding heart can run dry.

Mosquitos have nothing on the sandfly. Sandfly's are tiny, fast and they swarm. They will find that one inch of skin you failed to put repellant on and feast on it. Each individual fly can and will bite you over and over and over again. Their bites instantly itch- you feel a tiny pinch as they bite into your skin, and then you are riddled with that bite for 2 weeks. They don't stick to dawn/dusk hours or shady spots. They are present everywhere.all.day.long.

And they bite through clothes.

TWO LAYERS OF CLOTHES IN THE HEAT- TRYING TO AVOID THE SANDFLY BITES. YOU EAT YOUR MEAL ON FOOT SO YOU CAN RUN BETWEEN BITES. SCOTTY WAS ANGRY WITH ME FOR TAKING THIS PICTURE BECAUSE HE SAID HE WILL NEVER WANT TO REMEMBER THIS MOMENT (THE ONLY PANTS AND LONG SLEEVES HE PACKED WERE BLACK... IT WAS IN THE HIGH 20'S). 

The presence of sandflies made Scotty and I turn on each other on more than one occasion.

Survival of the fittest.

MOST OF THE CAMPGROUNDS IN NZ HAVE KITCHENS WITH MULTIPLE HOT PLATES AND ALL THE DISHES  YOU NEED. WE LIKED THE COMMUNITY FEEL OF THE SHARED KITCHEN, DINING HALL AND LIVING ROOM SPACES. THAT AND THE FACT THAT THE SCREEN DOORS KEPT THE SAND FLYS AWAY.

YOU'RE WELCOME NEW ZEALAND... IN THE EARLY 1900'S DEER, ELK AND MOOSE WERE IMPORTED FROM CANADA (THEY ARE NOT NATIVE TO NZ) TO THE FIORDLANDS. 

GUNNS CAMP (WHERE WE STAYED) HAD A LITTLE MUSEUM ATTACHED. IT WAS WHERE THE WORKERS STAYED WHILE THEY WERE DIGGING HOMER TUNNEL WHICH STARTED IN 1935 USING PICK AXES AND WHEELBARROWS. 

We spent an entire day tramping. First we did Key Summit and then we drove 15 minutes down the road to the next trailhead leading up to Lake Marian which is nestled in between two mountain peaks.

Key Summit delivered 360 views of towering mountains. Sigh. We spotted Lake Marian across the canyon. Maybe it's just my imagination, but the sky looks so much bluer here (maybe it's the lack of ozone and the fact that we're in the middle of the ocean far from the big cities of the world?).

HOW PRETTY IS THAT?

DUE TO TORRENTIAL DOWNPOUR, THE GROUND CAN QUICKLY TURN INTO A LAKE, SO THERE WERE BOARD-WALKS EVERYWHERE IT WAS FLAT.

I SPY WITH MY LITTLE EYE, LAKE MARIAN

WE'LL SEE YOU SOON

We wandered around on a self-guided tour (there were little laminated cards that you could borrow when you reached the summit- they told you what you were seeing, what vegetation you walked by and the history of the land). On the way back down, Scotty and I decided to run the better portion of it. So many stink eyes from other trampers- the serious types who walk with giant packs, hiking boots and walking ski-poles- they don't like people like Scotty and I who wear our gym clothes and drink coke zeros on the same hike as them, it's as if we're making a mockery of it. We're funny- us humans love to make everything serious and centered around the "gear" (just look at yoga- do the Indian yogis really use/wear all that stuff?).

SILVER BIRCH FOREST

THE MOST ROMANTIC OUTHOUSE EXPERIENCE EVER

MOUNTAIN WIND.

The tramp up to Lake Marian was a bit of a trollop. There was no running. No coke zero. Lot's of climbing over large rocks. There was one section that lead through a giant rock slide. It was marked by a sign that said something like, "Very Unstable Rocks, No stopping for 200m"- very comforting. We came out of the tree-line into this huge "river" of ugly, jagged grey rocks. It made me think of the boneyard in The Land Before Time. On our way to the lake, I scuttled across it as fast as I could go. On the way back I had lost most of my will to survive (6 hours of hiking later) and dragged my aching knees across it and muttered angrily over how I signed up to hike in a forest not a rock quarry. Clearly, I had reached my tramp quota.

THE START OF LAKE MARIAN TRAMP

THE FORESTS ARE THICK

But the lake was beautiful. We stayed until the sun disappeared over the edge of the mountain before heading back. So much raw beauty, such beautiful colours, this is New Zealand.

SIGH. 

SO IDEAL

We got back to the campsite and devoured our Chickpea Masala. With our lungs full of fresh mountain air, we passed out in our tent by 9:30. Being outdoorsy is exhausting.

A SUMMER NIGHT, TUCKED INTO THE MOUNTAINS, AT GUNNS CAMP

They've done studies, you know. 60% of the time, it works every time.

Just a regular Wednesday night. 

Take Two. Action.

Milford Sound may be the place that we've been told to go to the most (especially by some of the travellers we met in Fiji). We stopped in to Te Anau and visited the Satake's (who were helping at a summer camp on the lake) and then we headed for the Westcoast. Brian had warned us about the tunnel that he described as being "New Zealand sketchy" and said it looked like it had been hallowed out with spoons (like the tunnel at tunnel beach) and was quite long.

Despite these very accurate warnings, we were still shocked. Never in our lives have we had a driving experience quite like that. Picture a towering mountain- the landscape kind of like the Hope side of the Coquihalla- you climb up to that mountain and see a hobbit hole in the side of it. There is not a light leading you into it (nor any inside for that matter). There are no line markers. Just a pitch black, jagged tunnel with water dripping down from above and no sign of the other end of the tunnel. You could be driving towards the center of the earth for all you know.

Luckily I video taped it.

When we arrived at the tunnel, it was late in the evening and we had ascended up through a cloud. Everything was eerily still and we had no clue what to do. There was one sign off to the side that said "traffic control lights 9am-6pm." It looked rather one-way, but there wasn't a soul around. Not a car to lead us through. I had this feeling that there would be a giant semi truck coming straight at us once we were inside.

But when you're travelling, you have to suck it up. If it's good enough for a kiwi, it's good enough for me.

This (the video tape) was the tunnel on the way back (so we had done it once before).

I believe I recall my initial reaction being dramatic breathing and a lot of "ewww" and Scotty's being "whoa, this is crazy" and a lot of laughing.

On our way back to the entrance of the tunnel, there were two huge giant Kea's sitting on the road (New Zealand's Parrot)- just to complete the dreamlike (leaning towards nightmarish) feeling of that night.

That's Something Worth Holding on to.

Scotty just wrote his midterm this morning. It is incredible to see how aging has completely changed the type of student he is. He spent most of the weekend studying, and even studied the entire day yesterday. I like seeing how he cares about doing well (I have trouble understanding people that don't care at all- but I know that I tend to over-care).

Anyways, with my partner in crime buried in the books, I buried myself in the books too and took tons of notes on colour theory (I finished off the book in fact!), and now I am reading the 1999 edition of "Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain" (I need to brush up on my drawing skills for school). I came across a quote I quite like:

"Don't pay any attention to the critics. Don't even ignore them"- Samuel Goldwyn

I believe that quote will become very valuable as I launch myself into this rather terrifying and exciting world of design (where catty people seem to congregate).

And that's it. I have a video I'll be posting maybe later tonight or tomorrow morning, but I am late for tea- so I'll have to see what scraps the boys have left me.

Reunited and it feels so good.

After two and a half weeks apart (us in Australia, then them at a camp, then us camping down south), Scotty and Brian went down to see two matinees in a row at Hoyts theater (I am going to bring my camera next time we go, you won't be able to get over the seats and leg room). I am sure it was followed by some Mc D's (which is called MAC-ah's down here) and some riding. This is how they pulled up at the front door after their date.

Just the two of us...

THEY WRESTLE JUST ABOUT EVERY NIGHT... AND WHEN I SAY WRESTLE I MEAN THAT BRIAN TRIES TO DEFEND HIMSELF FROM SCOTTY'S ATTACKS. IT'S EXTRA CREEPY BECAUSE SCOTTY DRAWS THE BLINDS AND THEN LURCHES AT HIS FRIEND. BOY RELATIONSHIPS ARE WEIRD. IMAGINE IF DURING THESE 8 MONTHS OF WATCHING THESE TWO WRESTLE- I GOT LED TO BELIEVE THIS IS NORMAL FRIEND BEHAVIOUR AND RETURNED TO CANADA AND BEGAN DRAWING THE BLINDS ON MY FRIENDS, MOM, MOTHER IN LAW, SISTER'S IN LAW... I COULD NEVER GET AWAY WITH IT. SOMEHOW SCOTTY DOES. I THINK IT BURNS OFF A LOT OF THOSE BURGERS THEY EAT- THEIR BREATHING BECOMES AWFULLY LABOURED WHILE THEY'RE WRESTLING.

Brian is already getting really sad at the thought of us leaving. Many of his sentences start with, "we only have like 4 weekends left so..." (usually this is justifying more burgers). 

Big Love in the City

The reality of being in Sydney struck me when we crossed over the ANZAC bridge. I had a serious lump in my throat. I had always thought, one day. But finding yourself in the middle of one day? It's huge. I will start out by saying that the 36 hours we spent in Sydney was not even a thimble full of time to explore such a gorgeous city.

SYDNEY SUMMER 2000 OLYMPIC CAULDRON TURNED FOUNTAIN

SYDNEY'S OLYMPIC PARK

ENTERING THE CITY FROM THE BLUE MOUNTIANS

ANZAC BRIDGE. CROSSING THIS WAS HUGE FOR ME.

We headed over to Manly Wharf, but when we saw the price of parking ($8/hr???)- we abided by the small print (under 30 mins free) and gave ourselves exactly 22 minutes to wander (*speedwalk*). Restaurant patios were packed with people, looking very fabulous, enjoying a cocktail-hour drink.

MANLY WHARF IN THE BACKGOUND

HOW AMAZING IS THAT WOODEN BOX ON THE BACK OF THE BIKE?

We hightailed it out of the underground parking before our 30 mins were up and settled into the sand on Manly Beach. We snacked on chips and salsa and watched the surfers catch their final waves of the day as marshmallow clouds floated like dreams in the sky above us.

SUNSET ON MANLY BEACH

We got super lucky that night and found a super quiet street not far from Bondi Beach. We woke up at 7:30 and headed to McD's for coffee and pancakes and then whiled our morning away on the beach. I think the dark cloud looming above us (cloudy but still sweltering) kept a lot of people away... I saw a shot of Bondi on New Years Day and it was shoulder to shoulder people. We had a wide berth of personal space which is probably a rarity on Bondi in the summer (being from Vancouver, I have a tough time getting used to crowded beaches... plus, I think Canadians have a bigger "personal space radius" than most).

BONDI BEACH

I BELIEVE THIS IS UNCROWDED FOR BONDI BEACH IN THE SUMMER

We had to return the car to the Sydney airport by 1:30, so I grabbed an icy cold shower in the changing room before we left. I hightailed it out of there with drippy wet hair when the most awkward human being started lifting the front of her dress to wash her fleshy bits in a very public shower... seriously... the clean feeling of that shower lasted 2.5 seconds (*ifeelsodirty*)

I don't have many kind things to say about the Sydney Airport, nor the very bitchy (sorry mom, you would have used the same words to describe him) man at the concierge desk. Long story short, we couldn't store our baggage, we got locked out of the airport until 2 hours before our flight left (and staff were late, so despite being in line at 4am, we were left sprinting through the airport to be the last 2 to board) and we couldn't catch a train back because the train doesn't run to the airport after midnight.

2598 KMS DRIVEN IN ONE WEEK. THAT'S WORTH A PAT ON THE BACK.

When we get home, ask me about the Sydney airport and I will rant for days.

For a city as big as Sydney, the airport shuts down from midnight until 4 am, so flights like ours, leaving at 6am are a complete nightmare. Really Sydney airport?

Choke on it.

(deep breath, pours wine)

Anyways, by 3:30pm, we were on a very packed train with our backpacks and bags headed for the harbour.

Being from the Pacific Northwest, we're always among the last to ring in the New Year (New Zealand is the first). I guess I've never really thought about it, but because we're some of the final ones, we're the lucky ones who get to see the world celebrating the big night from the moment we pour our cereal until we are excitedly counting down those final 10 seconds. I have always loved watching the "loop" of NYE celebrations on New Years Eve day. To be completely honest, I've never been a huge NYE person. I have always felt it to be somewhat magical, but as a kid and teenager, I often spent my countdown in front of the tv and I have worked a handful of them as an adult. I have had some pretty fun ones too, but I've never spent much on that night- if I've done anything, it's been some sort of house party.

But I've long dreamed of ringing in the New Year on a hot summer night, under a blanket of fireworks on some cramped walkway in Sydney's Harbour. For me, the image of fireworks exploding from the ANZAC bridge is just as epic as the ball drop in New York (one day maybe?)- you see if for years and years on tv and then one day you find yourself standing there...

The streets were already packed as the contents of the train spilled out into the sweltering heat. Scotty was a true stud and insisted on carrying all the bags. Remember how much stuff I crammed into my carry-on? That pack weighed a ton! What a man. There wasn't time for hmmm'n and hawww'n- we made a decision quick and found a spot that gave us full view of the bridge. We piled up our bags, pulled out our books and lounged across our luggage.

READY TO WAIT 8 HOURS FOR THE FIREWORKS.

Honestly, as worried as I was about having to carry our bags around the city, I quickly realized that they were a blessing in disguise. Sitting on the concrete from 4pm until close to midnight? Every bone in my body thanks those bags for being a soft spot to sit. Most people around us were resigned to sitting on sheets of newsprint or flattened cardboard boxes.

I'll just be up here on top of my luggage castle like a G6.

Scotty insisted that I go try and catch a glimpse of the Opera House before the streets got so packed that I wouldn't be able to get through. I tried, but no luck. The best spots for watching the fireworks were blocked off and one could only gain entry if the pre-bought a wristband...

...even fireworks aren't free. Lame.

So all I got to see was a sliver of one of the sails. Clearly, we should have come down to the harbour last night. Total rookie.

I went back to Scotty and described how beautiful that one little point of the Opera house was. And before long, I was fixating on how we were going to get back to the airport. We got mixed stories on the train schedule at the airport (don't even get me started), so I went to grab a schedule. I was gone five minutes... if that... and when I returned, big sheets of wood were blocking the way back in to where Scotty was. A tight pod of people were pushing to try to get in, which completely flustered the cop who was telling people that the harbour area had reached full capacity.

I stood there, behind the pushers like a proper Canadian, and got nowhere. It was clear that these people just thought that if they pushed enough, they could get in, and they weren't originally in there, they just wanted in.

I finally pushed my way in front of them and got the officer's attention and told her my story.

"Too bad" was her response.

I found another officer and he just shook his head. "You'll have to call him to come out"- yeah, except that we're tourists and neither of us have a cell phone.

I found a third officer. My face was burning and my eyes were welling with tears as I begged him to let me in. He rolled his eyes and then gestured to the small gap under his arm. I shot through that hole so fast and returned to Scotty all shaky. There was zero warning that a wall would be going up and I cannot tell you the kind of panic that was rising in this small town girl's chest in those 15 minutes. I literally had a running conversation with myself... calm down, be agressive, don't let a "no" stop you.

When I got back to Scotty, I felt like a little kid who had gotten lost in a mall- except no one wants to see a 29 year old cry her eyes out because she got separated from her husband.

I honestly don't know what we did for the next 5 hours. I think Scotty finished a book (what a surprise, he's averaging a book every 5 days or something absurd like that) and I blatantly people-watched (which is such a poor plan when no one is going to be moving for the next 8 hours... it's that "who's that strange girl sitting on top of her backpack, and why is she staring at me" kind of awkward).

"R U GOING TO HEAVEN" IN THE POOREST SKY WRITING EVER. VERY AWKWARD CHOICE FOR NYE.

OUR FELLOW SPECTATORS AT THE SYDNEY WHARF

About 2 hours before the first set of fireworks, the ferry docked for the night. Right in front of us- blocking almost the entire bridge.

Hahahaha. As I type this, I see that so many things were going wrong, but I don't think I really noticed it much at the time. I think I was too swept up in the excitement or something.

It's okay, we told ourselves, the fireworks will be up in the sky.

Thank goodness that they did an early show at 9:30 because our spot was complete garbage. Between the roof of the ferry terminal, the giant ferry parked in front of us, and the big electronic sign to our other side, we missed so much of the show. I was pretty crushed trying to crane my neck to peek under the sign. Scotty's look was probably the worst and it wasn't even the crap view of the fireworks that he was reacting to. He was reacting to me. He knew the view was bad, and he could see me struggling to see anything. I looked at him and read it on his face- he was crushed watching me be crushed.

After they ended, we made the decision to try moving. A total gamble as we easily could have only found a worse spot, but we figured it was worth it. It took forever to move a few hundred meters, but we managed to find a brilliant spot with good views of the sky and the bridge.

ONE HOUR TO GO. NEW SPOT. THIS SHOULD BE GREAT.

By 11:45, everyone was on their feet and yelling. People kept counting down the minutes until the bridge lit up and the clock started counting down from 90 seconds. That's when everyone lifted their cameras and phones and a sea of lcd screens lit up the wharf. Once we hit the 10 second mark, I think I started stomping my feet and giggling. When the clock struck midnight, the sky lit up with fire. 12 minutes of fire. It was unreal. The crowd hushed and everyone around us just stood there with their mouths hanging open.

37 SECONDS TO 2012

IF ONLY MY CAMERA COULD CAPTURE EVERYTHING HAPPENING IN THE SKY ABOVE US

We had no where to be until 4 am. The city emptied quickly after the fireworks ended, so Scotty and I made our way over to the Opera House. Bright lights and pounding bass drew crowds to the NYE parties hosted on the edge of the harbour. Girls in pretty cocktail dresses danced on the dance floor and spectators watched and held their own dance parties from the railings above. Clear beach balls bounced up and down between the people who paid to be there and the people who were there for the fireworks but stuck around to take in the magic of the night.

I think it was this "after party" that really got me. We felt like a collective despite the fact that we were strangers. People offered to take our picture, they broke into dances on the walkways, couples kissed on benches, people from the balconies yelled "Happy New Year" to the people below and everybody was grinning ear to ear. This I loved.

Don't ask me how we did it. Trust me, it wasn't an effort or even a consideration. Somehow we breezed past the security at the Opera House. We only realized we had done so on our return for the train when we noticed the security guards turning people away.

The Opera House was far more magnificent than I had anticipated. Much grander. We climbed the stairs and pretended to know the waltz. Scotty is scarily good at this pretend ballroom dance thing we do. I am not. I am a toe stepper and shuffler. But being swept around the courtyard under the sails was the most swoon-worthy moment of the entire trip (maybe even my life).

LET'S DANCE

PARTY ONLOOKERS JOINING THE PARTY FROM ABOVE

THIS WAS MY FAVOURITE SIGHTING OF THE NIGHT. I LIKE TO THINK THAT HE HAS LOVED HER FOREVER AND AS THEY'RE FINISHING UP WORK FOR THE NIGHT, HE FINALLY GOT TO DANCE WITH HER AND MADE HER LAUGH UNTIL SHE CRIED....

We found ourselves back on the train platform just before 3am. Some drunk a$$-hole urinated on the pillar behind me and when he went back to join his friends beside us, I just stared a hole into his face until he made eye contact with me... even on my good days, I tend to have a scowl on my face. It's just my relaxed look, so I know my dirty look is a real effective one. He looked at me and then quickly away.

I just kept staring.

When he made eye contact again, he went red and said, "I'm sorry" to which I responded, "You're disgusting"

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN 1.5 MILLION PEOPLE WAIT ALL DAY FOR FIREWORKS

THE CLEANING CREW HAD THOSE STREETS TIDIED IN RECORD TIME. IT WAS PRETTY IMPRESSIVE TO WATCH

He sheepishly slunk to the wall and sat out of my view until the train came. I don't care if you're drunk. There's a bathroom down by the entrance. It's not my fault you walked by it.

You deserve to feel like an ass when you act like one.

Because the airport was closed, the train didn't stop there, so we had to get off a stop early and walk the rest of the way. Because there were no planes coming in and it was dark out, we had no idea what direction to head in. Scotty, being the brilliant and insanely laid-back guy he is, reached into one of the bags and pulled out the GPS. I had anticipated that we would be fighting with each other by this time. Having to walk with heavy bags at 3 am when we've been up since 7 am the morning prior are conditions for the perfect storm.

But he had me laughing. I was prepared for a fight, but seeing him loaded up like a pack horse, speed walking, arm outstretched and staring at the GPS and muttering something ridiculous... I couldn't have picked a better partner in crime.

3:40 AM IN THE AIRPORT WAITING FOR THE CHECK-IN TO OPEN IS LAME.

We left that dreaded Sydney airport and touched down in Brisbane for a two hour stop over before boarding a plane fore Dunedin.

I have to say, flying over NZ was breathtaking. I made me super excited to spend the next few weeks exploring the south Island.

HELLO NEW ZEALAND

After a very long sleep of course.