Until Next Time

I cried. Hard. My excuse? Looking into the sunset for too long on my way to Auckland International Airport. It hit me like a ton of feathers; the feeling of getting your heart crushed by the most beautiful thing in the world. The situation was all too familiar, like that when I left Hawaii...the nostalgia, the confusion, wondering if it had really happened or if I was simply dreaming. I boarded the 777, an aircraft significantly smaller than the one I had originally left on, and dragged my lifeless body to seat 47C. I was immediately, monotonously greeted by an overweight older gentleman, breathing heavily, sitting in my seat. His wife casually leaned over and told me he had claustrophobia issues, and asked if I could squish my 5'11" body toward the window seat. Something New Zealand has taught me? "No worries". I sat down, but was moved yet again. I can't complain this time around...I had two seats to myself. Epic win.

I was pushed around, scolded, and scoffed at as soon as my goofy, relief ridden smile exited the plane. I would have never thought reverse culture shock actually existed, but I was taken back, disappointed, and utterly determined to make good use of the 10 hour layover I had. I hopped a bus to Santa Monica, long board in hand with a desire to live the typical California dream. The bus broke down half way to the pier (of course), and we were redirected to another stop along the way. The couple next to me rolled up a blunt on the side of the road, whipped out a brown paper bag, and kindly asked me if I cared to join them for a smoke and drink. I declined, completely sketched out and eagerly wishing the new bus would come around. It was from that moment on I realized that Los Angeles is truly a strange, strange place....the wide-eyed staring, the random questions, the street performers. Quite a sight. Despite the oddity that ensued throughout the afternoon, I managed to make it to the beach and sleep on top of my long board, waking up sunburned, revitalized, and unfamiliar with my surroundings. It's as if I'm living one vivid dream after another, my body never flinching to return me back to reality. I drained the life out of my iPod, playing everything and anything that would remotely reflect the mood I was in. It's dead.

I'm in the airport, desperate for a tube of toothpaste, staring at the departure screen as my flight continues to be delayed later, and later. The destination flashes obnoxiously, sending me on a wild goose chase to find the right gate. I'll have to check again soon, being that Washington Dulles is staring me in the face. I don't want to go to Washington. I heard it's raining in New York. Quaint.

I hereby declare this portion of my life 'closed'. It's been real.

Over and Out

I can see for miles. Every mountain peak, every leafless tree, the vast stretch of a turquoise harbor. The air is light, crisp, and the sun radiant. I've never seen a more clear day in my entire life. The atmosphere feels so thin that I'm afraid we'll all be sucked into the vacuum of space. I've been looking outside, pretending that the sunlit, white apartment buildings were something out of Santorini, their harsh reflections sitting proud above the dead, winter ground. I'm not sure if I should smile, or cry, or search around my brain for a sensible emotion to reflect what's going on around me. My room is empty, the stark white walls have returned full circle, and two massive luggage bags beckon to be throw in the belly of a plane. I arrived in New Zealand yesterday, or that's what I like to think when I'm completely out of touch with reality. It has been four and a half months. Someone liquefied this country, poured it in my mouth, forced to me to swallow, and then proceeded to shake my head violently until I could no longer walk. Have you ever dreamt in a dream? You wake up to some alternate world, grateful that you're no longer sleeping, but come to the sick realization that you're in fact, still sleeping? New York is going to smack me in the face, dump cold water on my head, and blow an air horn right in my ear to wake me. It's that moment that I fear the most.

As would anyone who spent a few months in a place other than 'home', I have absolutely no words to describe this experience. I've felt emotions that I never knew could exist, my life flipped upside down. A desperate attempt to be in full control of a double life, the one I left behind in New York, and the one that I'm about to leave here in Auckland. I've been saying goodbye all day; my words feel so hollow. I'm convinced I've been an empty mass of flesh and bones for the past few hours, tear ducts completely unresponsive, my conscious thinking about nothing more than how I'm too lazy to take out the trash. It just sits there on the floor, staring me in the face. Screw it, I'll leave it for tomorrow.

Honestly, I'm afraid of home. A lot has changed. My old daily routines will no longer exist, friends have jobs, new lives, and I'll be sitting behind a desk wondering how to occupy myself through means of emotional stability. However, the smell of barbecue, the heavy summer breeze, the greenery, the shorts...my entertainment.

It's all over before it ever began. I'll never be able to live this moment again. My feet are cold, the sun is setting, the ceiling clings to a single birthday balloon, and I'm completely alone. This is the last time I'll see the sun duck below the horizon in this place. This tiny country, its oddly distributed population, the white sail of a boat loudly presenting itself against the bright, blue harbor. I'm still stuck in this damn staring contest, the past challenged me and I gladly accepted. Those tear ducts would come in handy right about now.

Rain.

I was fortunate enough to have my mom and aunt come visit me in Auckland. I snuck on the elevator, hit floor four, got out, and tapped rhythmically on the hotel door. I was greeted with hugs and kisses and my mother's characteristic cry of happiness. We would be heading up north for the weekend, attempting to escape the cold and rain that has been looming over Auckland for the past month. Luckily enough, the clouds parted, and the sun was shining not more than 40 miles outside of the city. We drove up toward the Bay of Islands (as pictured above), and ran around to Paihia, Matakohe, and Whangerei. Despite the hourly long sessions in the car believing my life was going to end in a fiery crash off a cliff side, the trip was, well, good. It was really nice seeing my mom; I'm so proud that she conjured up the guts to sit her fearful butt on a plane for 22+ hours.

Saw this bad boy solidified in a substance called Kauri Gum, from the great Kauri trees in the forest of Waipoura.

Anyway, I woke up this morning to blaring speakers, hundreds of voices, and police sirens. Despite not wanting to glance out my window due to the horrific weather that we've been having, I peeked out and saw hundred of protesters (maybe), marching down the street with signs and megaphones. They chanted in Maori, held their umbrellas, and proudly made their way down the soaked cement. I've noticed that people here will protest with the protection of the police, rather than getting beaten and tear gassed. The individuals in this 'walk' held a giant sign reading, "Our city, our rights. No supercity with us! Us! Us!" I've noticed that no matter where I go, people from New Zealand hate Auckland. They despise its infrastructure and superstructure, calling it just another city in which "Just Another Fucking Aucklander" resides. I'm absolutely terrible at keeping up with current events at home, none the less in a country whose past is completely unfamiliar to me. I wasn't exactly sure about the reasoning behind this 'protest', but my guess would have to be the lack of Maori representation and voice in the New Zealand parliament. I'll find out eventually.

I've recently come to the conclusion that I'm probably going to be a crazy cat lady when I'm older, except without the cats. Odds are you'll find me in a shack, with my great dane, Shelby, babbling monotonously to the walls. I love planning out my future as a desperate, single woman. Cheers!

Oh, cellular telephone apparatus.

Today I woke up early to the sun coming through my window. It hasn't been around much, as Auckland's been plagued with black clouds and rain for the past few weeks. I briefly sat outside to feel the heat of the sun on my face, absorbing what little time it may have left before the clouds move in again. After that I did something funny, I mean, not completely bizarre; something out of sheer curiosity. The joy I would get from this moment pulled the corners of my mouth to my ears. It's stupid...no, it really is...but I took out my cellphone from the states and plugged it into the wall, hearing that ridiculous Verizon start up tone. I grinned. I had no idea what my intentions were at this point, so I continued to scroll through the options menu, play with the once familiar ring tones, and best of all, view old text messages. At this point, I was grinning uncontrollably. Of all things, how could a cellphone put a smile on my face not more than 15 minutes after I woke up? Then I started to realize the familiarity of the object...how much of home was stored in its ridiculously small memory, the phone numbers of people who I thought I'd forgotten, and I continued to smile. Reading the text message conversations right before I left for Auckland brought back fleeting memories of saying goodbye, the sick mix of excitement and anguish, the overall feeling of blindly tossing my rattling bones into a new place, and I continued to smile. My tear ducts unknowingly welled up as things went slightly blurry for not more than a few seconds, and I continued to smile. How can such a thing make someone feel this way? I knew at that point that things would only get worse. If I decided to hold onto that piece of home longer, I would have surely broken down; every drop of homesickness pouring from my eyes. So, I shut it off, tossed it in the draw, and shared the bizarre stream of emotions that came with the simplicity of a cellphone.

Someone tell me if I'm losing it.

This past weekend was the ball...an excuse to get dressed up, drink in a beautiful hotel, and dance to live music. It was, sure enough, a ball. Pre-destination apartment party:

...And we're back.

If only I could begin to explain what the past month and a half has been like. I've felt as if I traveled the world, north to south, east to west, and have seen everything this floating lump has to offer. Reality is, I've remained in the same country I came to not longer than 12 weeks ago. Thinking of time in the span of 'weeks' as opposed to 'months' tends to elongate my already sub-par sense of reality. I sit here desperately trying to share what I've been doing, what I already have done, and what I plan to do, but I can't seem to formulate sentences that will substantially tackle the issue of explaining what's been going on in my life. I spoiled myself rotten for a month, having the pleasure of waking up next to Greg every morning...a small reminder of home. We traveled quite a significant amount in our 5x12 corridor on wheels, leaving our mark on over 2000 miles of South Island highway. To make things simple (for myself), an easy summary would consist of the words 'we', 'did', and 'a lot'. Encountered a stray penguin, jumped off a ledge with nothing but rubber bands attached to our legs, tore it up with heavy machinery on winding trails, ate shit hard on a rope swing (okay that was just me), slept in beautiful locations...blah blah blah blah. I miss that small fantasy; the feeling of reliving the same great dream over and over again, having an important part of your life show up in a city 8000 miles from home. I was frightened about the thought of 'waking up'; the immediate, relentless panic of having something disappear in an instant, and it did. That 27th day, when that stupid blue bus drove up to the curb without muttering a single sound from its engine, was when my sick fabrication of life vanished. Not more than three sentences were spoken before he left...startling as the sound of an alarm clock on a Saturday morning. Reality came out of left field with a hard right hook to my jaw. As soon as I grow used to something, it disappears. My revenge? Scoffing at that bus as its unwelcome presence glides down the road. Every day.

Let's resume. Droning lecturers, power points, feasibility studies, mini exams...Auckland. I'm not as happy as I should be. Kate, you're in New Zealand, people would kill for that. I just can't hold on to that fleeting feeling of contentedness. When you find yourself playing psychiatrist in your room on a Sunday night at 11:00, homesickness has surely reared its head. It scares me knowing that I'm on the trip of a lifetime and I've completely lost interest in everything I do. I've lost the spark. I'm counting down the days until I can again endure the miserable 23 hour trip half way across the planet. I want to wake up somewhere familiar. Feel my grey, concrete life beneath my feet again. Enjoy the heat radiating in my room from a warm, summer morning, throwing my clothes off, and getting under the sheets again with a smile on my face. It's cliche, but being far removed from something you thought you hated makes you appreciate it much more. That's how I feel with just about everything right now.

Enough of my yammering. What a cheerful post. When you don't have anyone to talk to, it's easiest to run your mouth off via HTML. This whole 8 hour time difference thing is screwing with my sanity.

If you want more, just check out photos at http://www.snapfish.com/, user name knettesheim@email.lynn.edu, password newzealand.

Acceleration.

I've been a horrible blogger. I was so dedicated. I've been so distracted. The weather has been non-stop stunning, as with every day autumn is creeping closer and closer. Let's just say I should have been keeping tabs on my daily adventures, being that something strange/humorous/noteworthy has been consistently occurring. Unfortunately, my absent mind has forgotten much of the past week. I'll attempt to mend the debris of my memory. Ladies and gentleman, I give you, the list. Short, yet fairly to the point.

1. Helped a kid earn 20 dollars from his mates by riding a tandem bicycle and making an ass out of myself.

2. Saw a dangerously high unicycle being rode by a man in a bathing suit down a crowded beach.

3. Met many intoxicated Kiwis around a fire; they proceeded to beat each other senseless.

4. This guy. Casually drinking at bar near the harbor.

5. Experienced 5G's at 200kph in 2 seconds.

6. Experienced 5G's at 200kph in 2 seconds.

7. Did I mention I experienced 5G's at 200kph in 2 seconds?

For only $40 NZD, you can feel like an astronaut (minus the whole prolonged feeling of nausea and potential unconsciousness at lift-off). There's something frightening about catapulting straight up attached to nothing but a seemingly thin elastic band. Catapulting your way straight toward the ground is another thing. I felt this was necessary to prepare myself both mentally and physically for this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ckym6W3t5kQ

Can you dig?

Plans.

This country is so beautiful, that sometimes I think my head is going to explode. My brain feels over worked from trying to process everything I'm seeing and doing on a day to day basis. I just got back from yet another amazing road trip in the Coromandel area. Despite our one day of rain and trek through the thick mud in our bare feet, it was stunning. Our Kiwi friend, Sheri, was kind enough to show us some of the most incredible and unknown areas on the peninsula. A 45 minute hike at dusk up steep rooted trails and rocky terrain eventually brought us to a small house on a huge hill overlooking the pacific ocean. Its plywood interior and 6 bunk beds made the group's hearts flutter, being that we had spent the previous night on a beach in a rainstorm. My bleeding, sore, bruised feet meant nothing after I had a look at the view from the front lawn....

It was stunning. Greens, blues, inclines, rolling hills, anything you could find in that picture of a place you've pointed at and said, "I need to go there before I die." The best part was knowing we could get down to that beach and be 8 of few who would show up. We would then be greeted by red stone walls and marbled driftwood flaunting their colors above the stark white sand. Unfortunately, we were only able to stay for a short while being that the van was to be back in Auckland by 4:30 that afternoon. We still managed to bring it back 2 hours late.

Prior to our visit to this beach, we met up with Sheri's foster grandmother and grandfather, who were kind enough to let us use their facilities to shower off the dampness and sand from our night on the beach. After we had all cleaned up, we sat in their den for awhile chatting about life. Her foster grandfather made some extremely poignant remarks regarding the quality of living and abundance of rules governing our society. After discussing our world of regulation and disdain, he simply stated, "trees were meant for climbing," and "we change for the sake of change, not for improvement." Although these statements may seem unimportant and meaningless to those reading this entry, they resounded in the heads of all of us at the time we heard them. There was something about sitting in a complete strangers living room, looking wide-eyed toward a big brown recliner in which the older man sat, that made the moment much more significant. I won't forget those words.

We spent that rainy night on Cook's Beach singing songs around a campfire, telling stories, laughing, and tripping over tent ropes. Sometimes I force myself to step outside the moment and observe who and what is around me; the moment becomes much more meaningful and time slows down. When you're in a place like New Zealand, it becomes necessary to do these things for the full effect.

This was before our hike to Cathedral Cove. It was cold, wet, rainy, and absolutely beautiful. Once again, it was us vs. nature. We still don't know who won.

As of today, I think my plans for the Easter break are pretty solid. Greg and I are going to travel to the South Island and explore areas like Queenstown and Milford Sound via camper van. I've heard so many wonderful things about the South Island, from its extreme adrenaline junkie reputation to its beautiful landscapes. I personally can't wait to bungee jump off the second highest platform in the world...or tandem skydive with an oxygen mask from 18,000 feet...or white water raft over waterfalls...you catch my drift. Knowing that this trip is only a mere 2 and a half weeks away makes me pee my pants a little. I mean that in the best way possible. If peeing your pants is cool, consider me Miles Davis.

And now for some more eye candy.