The personal authentic travels of a world-wide drifter, you'll always see pics of me at the locations being described (if the other blogs you're reading don't do that, odds are they were NEVER there, just saying…)
Back on September 22, a day before I was supposed to leave to go to Reykjavík in Iceland I fell down and went boom on the streets of London, yet again!￼
￼At the time I was staying in the Kensington neighborhood directly adjacent to Harrods (a world famous department store, now owned by the family of the guy that Princess Diana was in the car with when she died)￼￼ and had been spending the morning walking around and exploring the museum district where the Victoria and Albert Museum is, while listening to an audible recording of a book￼. Yes I was very distracted and putting a lot of stress on my brain, which was still dealing with post concussive syndrome￼. ￼￼I had already become aware of the fact that I was starting to mentally fatigue and had contemplated staying in place and finding a cab to take me home￼, but had rejected the notion￼ thinking I shouldn’t be such a ninny, my body was still fine and I needed the exercise.￼
Suffice it to say that was the wrong decision.
One of the problems I’ve had ever since the major concussion (back in Australia about two years ago) is that when I start to tire the balls of my feet￼ begin to drag. ￼ this is a problem that I’m still dealing with today. Initially they had been doing it all the time, so that it felt like the sidewalk was reaching up to grab my feet as I walked; but after identifying the problem and￼ some self implemented physical therapy — who knew that my childhood ballet lessons would ever serve some sort of practical use￼ in adulthood￼￼￼; I basically made a practice (for a few months) of focusing my attention on what my feet were doing, and that solved the problem by 95%.￼ That said, anytime my brain starts to fatigue my feet go right back to dragging.
Anyway I suddenly caught my foot on a not completely level piece of sidewalk, tripped and started to fall … But I guess because I was mentally fatigued￼ my hands didn’t do what they’re supposed to do, which is to Jut-out in front of me to break the impact and keep my head from hitting the ground￼. As a result I landed pretty much square on my forehead.￼
￼The picture in the upper left-hand corner is what I looked like shortly after hitting the ground. I lay there immobile in a state of shock￼, but some very nice girls whose names I didn’t get stopped and helped me. Once they gotten me up off the ground they escorted me down the street to a local pharmacy which turned out to not be a real pharmacy. They then took me from there even further down the street to a branch of the Boots pharmacy chain￼, ￼where there was a minute clinic type set up￼. ￼
The pharmacist was busy talking to some other customers when I waddled up and asked for help, with blood trickling down my face￼. First she said “please stand in line and wait your turn.”￼, and then looked up at me and said, “apparently you take priority!” The people she’s been talking to were not particularly thrilled with this until they turned around and took one look at me and agreed that in fact I did.￼￼ She took me into the clinic area and cleaned up my forehead and put a bandage on it and then took me out to the street and put me into a cab and directed it towards the nearest hospital with an emergency room￼, namely the Chelsea and Westminster hospital.￼
I then got to experience yet another example of how by comparison to other industrialized countries ￼the US health system is seriously fucked up. I went into the waiting room, had to wait for more serious patients to go ahead of me – – keep in mind my forehead had already been cleaned up and bandaged by the woman at the pharmacy. When they finally saw me — The room has been pretty full when I arrived and I had a wait of maybe an hour￼, they cleaned my wond￼ up a little bit more and put surgical super glue over the cuts to help them heal (and keep more blood from escaping– as we all know head wounds are heavy bleeder’s)￼.￼￼￼ when I asked how much it was going to cost me, this visit to the emergency room … keep in mind that in the United States if I even step foot into an emergency room I am hit with a bill for $1000, and that’s before seeing the doctor￼￼￼. When I was in Australia they charged me $134 to walk into the room, $134 to see the doctor, $134 for the CAT scan, etc.… So at the very least I was expecting some sort of fee of a few hundred dollars. To my shock and awe they informed me I owed them NOTHING!!!￼
The second picture on the upper left top row is what I look like when I woke up the next morning. The day started out with a small black eye swelling in my inner tear ducts adjacent to my nose, and progressed rapidly over the course of the day, most of which was spent at the airport or on a plane heading to Reykjavík. The third picture starting from the left in the second row is what I look like the next morning waking up in Reykjavík, and from that point on every photograph was taken once a day over the ensuing days. By the time I left Reykjavík the bottom right picture all I had left were lines that made me look like a football player.
What was kind of funny is that in spite of the fact that my eyes were deep purple almost nobody said anything to me about them, other than my best friend who flew in from Chicago to spend that week with me. There was one exception, one elderly man who I met in the waiting area for the flight to Reykjavík said to me, “I have a bet with my wife, she thinks you’re just doing some sort of weird make up thing, but I said that you had fallen and hit your forehead and that you have black eyes as a result.” Apparently the same thing that happened to him as a kid.
What I was most impressed by, and my Best friend￼ felt the same, was just how impressively balanced the swelling was. It really did look like eyeshadow I had applied to my eyes, So I can’t fault people for thinking that that was what it was.￼￼￼￼￼￼
Located on Route 66 in El Reno Oklahoma is a cute little diner called Sid’s, which has been serving up delicious food for over 40 years. Although it doesn’t look like all that much, this restaurant has actually achieved some notoriety on the national level for the quality of it’s cheap eats.
While it takes advantage of their route 66 address, and has been written up in guidebooks as part of a Route 66 road trip, it’s important for authenticity’s sake (I believe) to remember that Sid’s is NOT technically a historic 66 diner. Sid opened the place in 1989, five years AFTER route 66 had already been decommissioned (in ’84).
Their claim to fame, isn’t that, but rather the food… specifically their fried onion burgers, which are considered to be so good that the Food Network listed them as among the top 5 burgers in the whole US of A., and the Travel Channel has listed them as one of the must visit road side diners in the country in the cheap eats catagory.
Their burger (i.e., the regular) consists of a large number of thinly sliced onions that are then smashed into the raw meat so that they merge with it, but as a solid layer– a bit like what happens with hash-browns. The King is just a larger quantity of beef.
I watched them making these, and based on the massive amount of fat involved wasn’t going to even try them (as they were completely off of diet). But as I was asking about the sandwich, they insisted I have at least a taste of one for free. (This is a VERY friendly place.) So they made up one and cut me off 1/4 of it so I could try it. Normally the burger includes a huge gob of mayonnaise, but they-made this one without
The remaining 3/4 were given to this this elderly woman sitting next to me, who was a regular. From what I overheard, she’s apparently in dire economic straits and they’re always adding free add-ons to her meals. I therefore insisted that I pay for the whole of her meal, my 3/4 and everything else she was eating.
As a result they insisted that we have a picture taken together. I have to say she was a very nice lady, very cheerful and upbeat.
Like I noted previously, the “French fries” in this restaurant are still referred to as Freedom Fries. That, and the heavy references to American’s armed forces kind of tells you all you need to know about the politics of this town, and the restaurant’s owner.
This is term that was adopted in 2003, and to this day is still used by the most hardcore Republicans around the country. The renaming (let’s keep in mind that french fries are actually from Belgium and not France) was the idea of a guy who owned a diner in Beaufort, North Carolina by the name of Neal Rowland. This patriotic act was in response to France‘s opposition to America’s proposed invasion of Iraq (which we went ahead and did anyway, without world support). Not long after two Republican politicians picked up the idea and ran with it; the first was Walter B. Jones, who represented Rowland’s district’s in Congress and the second was Bob Ney, a Representative from Ohio who in 2008, was convicted on corruption charges and did jail time — why yes this does make me smile. In 2003, Ney was still the Chairman of the Committee on House Administration, and therefore in charge of managing all the general ‘stuff’ for the members of the house of Representatives. What these “patriots” did was to … as a way of sticking to the French (who are always quick to point out that French Fries are NOT French), insist that the cafeterias that serve politicians in Congress change the name of the fries likewise.
And, why YES, the locals who El Reno did in fact, in majority, vote for Trump.
If you’re ever in the historic town of Acre, Israel (it’s one of the oldest continuously inhabited ones on the planet) and looking for a place to spend the night that is nothing fancy, but clean and HIGHLY affordable, look no farther than Nazar Khoury’s Guest House. I stayed here for almost a full month, and LOVED IT. If you want to book with him you can either call him directly (see number below), or use Booking.com, Agoda, or Airbnb (like I did — you may need to be signed into your Airbnb account in order to see that link, I’m not sure). That said, while he has four different rooms available, his place is so much more affordable than the other places in town, that he tends to be full almost continuously (or at least was while I was there).
Be warned, this is NOT a fancy hotel, with elevators and bell boys, but rather his family home that he grew up in, which he has converted himself in order to accommodate guests. He runs it himself (the guy in image above) and for the most part does a pretty good job of it … If you stay here you’ll be getting an authentic experience of how the locals live.
His home, which is located about four floors up, has a patio that overlooks the mediterranean ocean and the old Ottoman built seawall/ ramparts of this historic, and once militarily strategic town.
It is an almost idyllic place to sit and enjoy the ocean. While there you can also get to know some of his other guests (I met more than few people that way) as you all watch the setting sun while nibbling on the free munchies he provides.
This picture (above) was taken at around sunset — as you can tell by the golden color of the stones, and if you look up towards the Nzar Khoury sign, you’ll spot some guests, particularly the guy in the black shirt, talking to each other while enjoying said it from the patio — next to him was in fact his wife (who was distracting him from the view).
The great part about having stayed at the Guest House for almost a month was how many different sunsets I was able to watch… no two ever exactly the same
From his home you can easily see Acre’s famous lighthouse, and Haifa across the bay.
On VERY clear days you can just make out the second holiest Bahá’ítemple in the world, known as the Shrine of the Báb, it’ll look like a vertical strip from the top of the of the mountain to the bottom, with one very large building in the middle of it. I know all about the Bahá’í because one of their temples isn’t far from the home where I grew up, north of Chicago. But like I said, you can only see it on VERY clear days… otherwise the fog and or smog (depending on the color — fog is white, not brown) will block you from seeing it.
Just to the right of the lighthouse is the remains of a submerged crusader castle. On days when the wind is low and the water is still, you can just make out the walls of the various rooms of the building…
on other days you’ll see fishermen (who aren’t actually supposed to be there, but the police don’t stop them) fishing either off the exterior wall of that castle, or netting up fish caught in the pools they create.
Getting to his place is however NOT the easiest thing for people with mobility issues (it is NOT wheelchair accessible). The image above is the first set of stairs you’ll need to climb. These were built by the ottoman controlled Acre and were built more to be comfortable for horses pulling carts, then they were for humans. That said, the built-in ramps would have been a lot more helpful if they were filled in (so to speak). If you try pulling a suitcase up them, or a cart, the wheels will constantly slip off to one side or the other. (I’ve not seen anyone even TRY to negotiate them with a wheel chair.)
Nzar’s home — which is built upon the remains of a Crusader Church — is just next door to the St. Andrew’s Church (Greek Catholic), which is accessed from the parking lot by that same stairway. So, if you’re lucky, as I was, from his balcony you’ll be able to watch an Arab wedding party ceremoniously lead the bride to the altar.
At the top of the stairs you make a hard left (if you go right you see the church’s front door which is usually locked) and you’ll see the big metal door that marks his entrance
Push it open (it’s never locked)… be careful not to pull the handle (sometimes it’ll come off)… and you’ll see a very uninviting steep staircase that’s about 2 stories high with a banister that is just a rusty pipe bolted to the wall… that wiggles a bit if you lean on it (so don’t if you don’t absolutely need to). That said, while I was there a 90-year-old gray-haired grandmother with a seriously bent back put me to shame on those stairs.
Once inside you’ll see an apartment with VERY high ceilings. These are traditional to the region, and act as a sort of natural air conditioning system, as the heat rises above your head, and the cold drops to floor level. That said, no two spaces are on the same level. All the bedrooms are a step up to a place where you can leave your shoes, and then another step up to the bedroom area… the en suite bathrooms are yet another step up.
My bedroom, where I stayed, has a skylight (image of it from the building’s roof)… but it’s currently the only one like that does. Unfortunately there were no way to block that light… so I ended up having to go to sleep earlier than normal in preparation for an 8am wake up (after a 6 am one, at which point I covered my head with a pillow)
At night, Nzar lights up his sign, so you can still easily see it from the parking lot below. IF you’re in one of the rooms that lines the back alley, as I was, and pop your head out the window, you’ll an large number of swallows (who you can watch at around sunset feasting on the mosquitos, G-d bless them), hanging out on the electrical and telephone wires that line the way.
That said, I WARN YOU… they wake up really easily from things like the flash on your camera; and if awoken, they will fly around like crazy idiots for the next hour or so, chirping noisily. DO NOT WAKE UP THE SWALLOWS. That said, if you’re there during Ramadan, as I was, the wake up call before sunrise to allow muslims a chance to have breakfast, is ALSO going to wake the birds… you’ve been warned (ear plugs are your friend, as is a pillow over your head).
If you’re passing through Paeroa, while road tripping New Zealand (NZ) — let’s face it you’re most likely on the way to some place else — you WILL be seeing these two “Big Things”, i.e., huge bottles with the letters L&P on them located at either end of town. They represent one of NZ’s national soft drinks, which is made in here, using the local water.
It is a super sweet lemony concoctin called L&P, short for Lemon — because it’s supposed to be a lemon tasting drink & Paeroa, the name given to the magnesium bicarbonate rich water of the springs located here. That said, the brand is no longer made here… it got bought out by Coke years back and is bottled up in Auckland …. although I’m not sure how many Kiwi’s know this.
The bottle above, located in front of the L&P cafe, is one of two such bottles in town. In the photo I’m pointing at the advertising slogan on a red banner across it’s front… which reads “World famous in New Zealand.” I thought that was pretty witty, but learned afterwards that, according to Wikipedia, it was so successful that it has become a popular saying in New Zealand.
At first I assumed the one in front of the cafe was the promosed “big bottle” but when we got there we were told that it was in fact the smaller one. The BIG one, is at the other end of town in a small park along the main road/highway… Although, that said, if you compare the one above with the one below, to me they looked to be about the same size, only the one in the park is standing on a pedestal
In case you’re completely unfamiliar with the product, L&P is a local to NZ brand of a lemony flavored soft drink… that in my personal opinion wasn’t very lemony, and actually tasted kind of fake … like some lab’s idea of lemon… And then of course I read the ingredients and…. its basically water, sugar, a lot of acid, and Citric acid (330).
As I discussed at length in the article about my visit to Hobbiton, (the movie set where the Hobbit Shire for the Lord of the Rings Movies where shot) is that while New Zealand’s economy is ranked first in the entire world for its socially progressive policies, and has a reputation for being one of the cleanest and greenest among the First World/western block, high income, Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) countries…. the reality is that it is, ironically, also the most DEregulated government within that institution.
In day-to-day life, part of how this shows up for the average consumer is that in New Zealand, food labeling is DEVIOUS… so if you look at the close up of the bottle’s ingredients it says “food acid (330)” rather than “citric acid” … and ALL chemicals put into foods are like this… You know how in the states the general rule is if your reading the ingredients list and you can’t pronounce the ingredient you probably shouldn’t consume the product? Well in New Zealand ALL food additives are some easy to read words and a number code.
First my friend and I went to the L&P cafe location (which is the first one you’ll hit if driving south from Auckland to Wellington, and pit stopped long enough to try a bottle of the stuff and use the facilities.
While the menu looked ok, I was actually holding out, if you can believe it, for a pit stop at the McDonald’s down the road. No, seriously! This was because along with happy meals in New Zealand’s McDs were giving out children’s books by Ronald Dahl (he of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, which was renamed as Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory for the movie version) with the happy meals instead of toysThe book being given out was his story Matilda (which in the movie version is called Matilda), only given out one chapter at a time — so that the title of the chapter was the title of the book — but with no reference on the cover to the fact that it was part of the larger book called Matilda. But for the fact that I’m very familiar with the story (not just the movie) I would never have known… and I was hoping beyond hope that at least they were giving out a chapter a week, because ever McD’s I stopped at was handing out the same “Marvelous Miss Honey” mini book.
After this we stopped at the park at the other end of town where the “bigger” bottle was located. This one had little spots on the ground leading to it, which I’m guessing were supposed to be bubbles… which was kind of cute…. and a collection of signs talking about the history of the town
As well as the history of the product
According to the sign above, the reason the drink was made in this town, and I guess was made part of the drink’s name, was because the water in the town is naturally effervescent…. hence the bubbles on the floor.
That said, we weren’t the only ones stopping to take a picture with the bottles… only these guy had the good sense to bring bottles of the stuff with them for when they posed in front of it.
While my friend and I were road tripping south from Auckland to Wellington, we found ourselves with some (planned by me) spare time, and my friend … he who was doing the driving… pretty much spontaneously decided he wanted to use said time to take a scenic route option his phone had notified him of, rather than stay on the most direct one. So, we turned off of New Zealand’s highway 1 and onto the Manawatu Scenic Route.
Pretty much as SOON as we left route 1 we were happy we’d done so…
We found ourselves driving through a very windy and narrow river canyon type road (which was much more fun for him from a driving perspective than the mostly straight highway 1), with sides that were almost chalky white but shot through with green
and a road that took us higher and higher up the side of the gorge, after which we entered a flatter area (at the top apparently)with some farms, and a GORGEOUS mountain range in the distance
And then to MY delight (he was driving so past he didn’t even see it as we whizzed past) I noticed a stopping area with a sign and picnic area, and demanded that he stop and return us to it. [One of the many reasons we’re not traveling together anymore is he likes driving through places and considers them seen, while I like stopping each and every time I spot a good potential photo, so that I can take good pictures. Ironically, after I ended it with him, he wanted me to share with him said pictures.]
looking down into the gorge I could see what the original settler meant, in terms of it looking like the dress circle seating in an Opera house (read the image above)…
It wasn’t until afterwards when I researched the ‘Ruahine dress-circle’ that I learned that there was a side road we could have used to go down into it where there is a very popular swimming hole down there which we missed.
Unfortunately, since he’s not one to carefully plan things in advance, my travel buddy was driving through the area sort of haphazardly (if I’D been the one to PLAN it, I’d have known in advance about the stopping location and the possibility of the swimming hole) and his GPS on his phone instead of taking us through the length of the whole scenic drive redirected us OFF of it once we got past the end of Ruahine Road, and (as he’s not a planner) he didn’t realize we actually had sufficient time and would have had MUCH better views had we stayed on it… because from what I’m reading about it now, as I write this, we really only got a bit of taste of it…
In Tangiwai, a rural Māori community in New Zealand, about half way between the rural towns of Rangataua and Waiouru, just off the side of highway 49, is a memorial to the worst train accident in the country’s history. The catastrophe occurred on Xmas eve in 1953, when the rail-bridge over the Whangaehu River collapsed beneath an express passenger train traveling from Wellington to Auckland, resulting in the death of 151 souls.
The disaster happened because the Islanders at that time suffered from a lack of understanding of the full risks associated with being directly downstream from an active Volcano, in this case, Mount Ruapehu (see images above and below).
Volcano’s are beautiful, and their eruptions result in rich black fertile earth at their bases that is wonderful for farming, and this is why so many farming communities are located directly at their bases all around world — in spite of their being some of the most violent forces on earth.
For example: think about the cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum located at the base of Mount Vesuvius (a volcano) in Italy, or the town of Kagoshima in Japan which sits directly adjacent to Mount Sakurajima, which is so active that residents have to walk around with plastic umbrellas to keep the volcano’s ash out of their hair.
The cause of the Tangiwai disaster was in part seriously bad luck. Almost 10 years earlier in 1945, Mount Ruapehu, the volcano whose nearby presence is the source of the area’s sustenance, had erupted creating a thick layer of ash at the top of the mountain.
Over the next 8 years, water collected in the cone of the volcano, forming a lake, held in place in part by that same layer of ash. Earlier that evening, at around 8pm, the water (heavy with lava, ice and ash) had broken through and rushed downhill via the Whangaehu River (whose headwaters are the yearly melts off the glacier that sits atop the volcano — see the pictures above taken in during NZ’s summer), and at approximately 10:15pm, the force of flood had taken out many of the railroad’s bridge’s supports…. but unfortunately, not the bridge (which the driver might have seen).
The disaster happened only about 5 minutes later, at 10:21pm, and as I said resulted in the death of 151 souls; the recovery was horrific and continued for days as bodies were found hanging in near by trees, washed downstream by the river, or buried in banks of sand and mud; 21 of these bodies of the victims were never identified, and the bodies of another 20 souls, who were believed to have been on the train, were never found.
Here are two videos about the disaster from youtube. The first is very short, 1.5 minutes video posted by the Auckland War Memorial Museum:
This second video is a full 20 minute TV show about bad days in history that focuses on the disaster:
In a similar way to the tiny rural town of Riverside, Iowa (Population 993), having its monument in honor of the future birth of Star Trek‘s James T. Kirk, the slightly larger rural town of Taihape, New Zealand (NZ), population 1,730, has a giant “Gumboot” (Kiwi for a rubber boot) in honor of its fictional hometown TV character, a farmer by the name of Fred Dagg.
Created by a NZ satirist by the name of John Clarke, in the 1970’s, the Dagg character — known for wearing his Gumboot’s 24 hours a day (even in bed and in the shower) was designed to represent and make fun of the stereotypical NZ farmers, who lived in NZ’s stereotypically isolated farming towns.
Once he unveiled Dagg on national TV in 1975 the character made Clarke a national star. And as he had chosen Taihape as that hometown for his character, and the town owned that claim to fame with a will. Not only have they declared themselves the Gumboot Capital of the World, but they also have a yearly Gumboot Day, where contestants compete to see who can throw a gumboot the farthest, and who can wear them and look the dashing while doing it.
As anyone who reads my blog knows, I have a sort of perverse love affair with BIG THINGS (this will be my 59th one to blog about), i.e., oversized road-side attractions. You tend to see them in small towns, places that people would otherwise not travel to; with the items built or purchased, as a way to draw in tourists. Casey, Illinois is probably the most obsessive example of this, as in they’ve got EIGHT big things around town that hold the Guinness World Records for being the world’s biggest, for that sort of item. America has a LOT of things like this, with the world’s biggest ball of twine in Cawker City, Kansas, probably being the most famous; it was in the hit movie Michael (1996) where the Arch Angle Michael — played as less than angelic by John Travolta — comes to earth specifically because he wants to see these sorts of things. I argue that anyone doing a road-trip across America is sort of obliged to search them out… because they are “Americana.” That said, once I started road tripping around Australia I discovered they were into this sort of stuff as well, and likewise, New Zealand also has a few (although neither has as anywhere near as many can be found across the USA.)
I found a very good Neil Gaiman quote on the topic of road side attractions, in his novel American Gods, which is now one my favorite books (read it three times at least):
“So what is this place?” asked Shadow, as they walked through the parking lot toward a low, unimpressive wooden building.
“This is a roadside attraction,” said Wednesday. “One of the finest. Which means it is a place of power.”
“It’s perfectly simple,” said Wednesday. “In other countries, over the years, people recognized the places of power. Sometimes it would be a natural formation, sometimes it would be a place that was, somehow, special. They knew that something important was happening there, that there was some focusing point, some channel, some window to the Immanent. And so they would build temples or cathedrals, or erect stone circles, or…well, you get the idea.”
“There are churches all across the States, though,” said Shadow.
“In every town. Sometimes on every block. And about as significant, in this context, as dentists’ offices. No, in the USA people still get the call, or some of them, and they feel themselves being called to from the transcendent void, and they respond to it by building a model out of beer bottles of somewhere they’ve never visited, or by erecting a giant bat house in some part of the country that bats have traditionally declined to visit. Roadside attractions: people feel themselves being pulled to places where, in other parts of the world, they would recognize that part of themselves that is truly transcendent, and buy a hot dog and walk around, feeling satisfied on a level they cannot truly describe, and profoundly dissatisfied on a level beneath that.”
And that really is it… there’s an initial excitement as you head towards the Big thing… a profound level of satisfaction once you’ve arrived AT it, and then an underlying dissatisfaction once you’ve seen it.
Anyone interested in WHY the big carrot is there, please to read the signs in the images above — basically, it comes down to the town being (for a time) New Zealand’s largest producers of carrots. The fiberglass carrot had initially been made as a TV advertising prop for a bank promotion, but later became available for sale;
at this point, a group of the town’s vegetable growers Association, who had been looking for symbol to represent their importance to the town (many of whom were Chinese immigrants who had arrived in the 1920’s) bought it. It was then moved from Wellington, it original location, to the entrance to Ohakune in 1984, in a ceremony attended by NZ’s prime minister.
That said, once the ‘dissatisfaction’ stage had passed, I was more than a bit delighted with the activity park that the city has developed alongside the “erection” intended for both young and old to enjoy.
The park includes a massive playground for kids housed with some scary looking examples of other vegetables grown in the area. I think they’re supposed to be cute, but both me and my friend thought they were kind of freaky looking… AND kids are NOT allowed to climb on them, so what’s the point of them being there?That said there is a nice selection equipment and game areas for the kids
As well as exercise equipment for the adults
This kind of made me sad… the towns forestry industry had added their own presentation section in the park, which included this massive log. According to the History of the log, it had been growing since the 13th century. When they felled the tree in 1955, and when they got it to the mill they couldn’t use it because it was too big for the saws.. such a waste!
There’s also a small area for people who just want a peaceful stroll through a green area, which feels a bit like walking through a patch of forest, along a stream, and is very restful. We saw more than few folks picnicking there.
What I found amusing about it was clearly paid for with funds raised from local business all of whom got to embed a little advertisement into the concrete.
And for the adults there’s also one of those mini outdoor gyms that are popping up all over place in public parks world-wide.
That said, Ohakune is known for more than just vegetables. As I mentioned upfront, the active volcano in the background of the image above was the shooting location for the Mordor scenes in Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings movie trilogy, and is also has earned the being a duel status World Heritage Site both because of both its natural beauty and its religious importance to the Maori people. In summer, it is one of the country’s most popular full day hikes, known as the Tongariro Alpine Crossing, with a terrain towards the top that some have compared to being on Mars due to its utter alienness. While in winter, it turns into something of a ski resort town (more affordable housing for those willing to drive to the slopes), with the closest resort being at Turoa).
In fact that Airbnb we stayed at (it ROCKED, seriously, was like a really good BnB), the owners share their home in summer, but vacate it entirely every winter because of just how much money it earns them as a ski resort rental.
One of the very first things I noticed once my friend and I began our road trip around New Zealand was, this country seems to have a love affair with using corrugated galvanised iron to construct buildings, as in I’ve never seen SO many buildings made of the stuff. One of the towns that has embraced this material with a will is town of Tiarau, New Zealand.
Driving into town you won’t be able to miss this trio of buildings where the Iron’s been molded to look like a sheep-dog that houses the towns i-Site building, and the adjacent sheep & ram building, which house a coffee house and a woolen goods store, respectively.
To paraphrase the New Zealand tourism board’s website, there are over 80 i-SITE visitor information centers scattered around the country, many of them located in distinctive or historic buildings (like the one above). In them you will find no shortage of pamphlets, and trained professionals, who can inform you about everything there is to do in any particular area you’re currently in, including which parts were film locations — i.e., for those travelers who are Lord of the Ring fans. And, of course, while in these i-SITE centers, you can do some souvenir shopping — as I’ve yet to find one that doesn’t have a gift shop.
That said, the i-Site’s store doesn’t hold a candle to the one inside combined sheep and ram building next-door. The ram section is full of Marino Woolen goods, while the front of the Ewe (female sheep) section is is all things like New Zealand T-shirts, post cards, etc., and out towards the back there’s a coffee house that also has ice cream. (For some reason I didn’t take any photos in there.) If you have the time, I suggest walking around town because there’s a LOT of corrugated Iron statutes decorating the place. My friend and I were sort of in a rush to our next location, so we didn’t have time to really do the place justice, just a quick drive through… but there are at least eight different such decorations around town at last count.
[To my readers, warning… this post is pretty self-indulgent; It chronicles almost the past two years during which I on again off again travelled with Mik; It’s an overview of how it happened, what we saw together, what worked about traveling together, and what didn’t. In it are suggestions you might take to heart for yourself, should you team up with a travel companion, but you’ll have to read through all the hay to find those pins of value, cause this is a stream of consciousness, psychological dump on my part.]
After about 8 months of cumulative travel together over about two years … which was a pretty successful run considering how very different he and I are, Mik and I have decided to amicably ‘split up’ so to speak. Traveling together was no longer working for us — well seriously not working for me, and my low-level resentment occasionally blew up into me yelling at him, and THAT wasn’t working for him (well duh). There’s some low level anger, obviously, but for the most part we’ve dealt with it like adults.
[What follows is a sort of timeline of events … if you’re not interested in the blow-by-blow, feel free to skip to after the photographs stop, to get the meat of the problem.]
In the summer of 2017, after having already traveled alone for about 2.5 years, I had decided that it was starting to get a bit lonely, and had reached out to friends via Facebook to see if anyone wanted to join me in my travels. In September of that year, Mik a guy I knew, whose job allowed him to work remotely, reached out to me and asked if he could swing by one of my next stops and spend a day with me (he combined it with seeing relatives in a town nearby the place I was going to be in Canada).
Over lunch, he brought up the topic of our joining up our horses, so to speak, and traveling together. While the thought of having a travel buddy sounded good, I was more than a bit hesitant. My hesitation lay in the fact that Mik wasn’t so much someone I would refer to as a friend, but rather a peer who traveled in the same circle of friends as I had, about 10 years ago when I had lived in SF. In fact I barely knew him. We’d only ever had maybe one or two serious conversations in that whole period, generally around the topic of why as much as I thought he was a good guy, no I didn’t want to date him. After that, we’d maintained the connection via Facebook/social media (low-level) and about 5 years back, after I moved back to Chicago, he had asked to crash at my apartment for a few days while traveling through … I had a full-sized airbed that I set up in the living room for guests and again had an open invite up on FB. So I was a bit unsure about our potential for being travel buddies, but was lonely enough to be willing to give it a try.
In Late October through early November, we had our first trial run, and spent a little over a week together in Tennessee. First we rented an affordable hotel room with two beds, because I usually don’t sleep well with others. I was really happy to discover 1) he was a very heavy sleeper who, 2) didn’t snore — like not at all. Apparently… I don’t snore either, he said however that I am quite the chatterbox while dreaming, but he said it didn’t bother him.
This was then followed up by crashing at the homes of friends, first one of his, than one of mine in small towns, outside of Nashville… where we experienced sharing beds for the first time. This again also worked out all right (he was great about staying to his side of the bed after I made it clear that I don’t want to be touched while sleeping — HOW he manages to respect boundaries so well while asleep, boggles the mind).
Based on this one week, we decided that we were going to do more traveling together, he headed back to the west coast for work related stuff, and then on to Australia where he’s from originally (and his mom still is) … and I went to Disney World for the third year in a row…. and promptly realized I was bored out of my mind with the place. So I contacted him and asked him, “do you have crash space for me there?” And he did, so I spent the next month figuring out how to downsize my life from the contents of a car, to that of one large suitcase and one carry on, etc., and, on Dec. 31, 2017 I had posted about how after traveling alone for about 2.5 years I had decided that it was starting to get lonely, and how I would now be traveling him, for as long as that might last.
Later that day, on New Years Eve 2017/2018, I flew for the first time in my life to Australia. We hung out there, and did some other stuff, sometimes together, sometimes apart… Then on Australia day, which is sort of, a cross between 4th of July and Columbus day, while attending a protest in support of Aboriginal rights with him, I fell down and went boom, big time… which resulted in a concussion that took about a year to get over the worst of, but that to this day I’m still dealing with the repercussions of.
That said, he was great during the worst of it. Had the foresight to document it for me with photos, knowing that I’m perverse enough to want them. Once out of the hospital, I could see (it was all there in his body language) his inner child was seriously struggling with his adult side in terms of “showing up” for me versus doing what he wanted to do in any particular moment (Mik is 45 going on 9), but he was none the less great about it. A week later (I was STILL in very bad shape “I … …was… …talking… …like… …this…” and was still suffering bad positional vertigo so that I needed to be steadied in order to walk…), but Mik was flying to Tasmania with his mom, and I was scheduled to go to Ballarat (all my posts from there),
LUCKILY the plan had always been for me to spend those next two weeks at the home of a friend, rather than to be in an Airbnb. She was a modern-day pen-pal; as in someone I’d bonded with over the last two years via Facebook, but had never actually met. She’d repeatedly said I should come visit her, so now I was going to. We had intended to spend two weeks traveling the area together, but obviously… life is what happens as you’re making other plans. That said, as dumb luck would have it, she was a former nurse, and as such was much better able (and more to the point willing) to care for me than he would have been. She was great about letting me rest 99% of the time, but still dragging me out for some short trips to places like their wildlife park… And to the Sovereign Hill Park where she regularly volunteers her time… a massive historical reenactment of Australia’s gold rush period, which I returned to for a FULL week during my second visit to Australia (I apparently broke their record for the furthest away person to buy a 1 year pass). It’s like Disney for history nerds, so totally up my alley… to the extent that I could see myself maybe going to that town for long enough stay so as to volunteer there myself.
Towards the end of my stay, when I had more energy, we did a slightly longer trip out to Grampians National Park, Victoria. She also took me to her favorite dentist who (again, as luck would have it) specialized in jaw work; Another of the after effects of the concussion was that the impact from the fall had been strong enough that it dislocated my jaw. As in I’ve had over 1K worth of work done on it since then, and it STILL clicks. That said, she and I get along really well, and for the most part our travel interests are MUCH more copacetic than what I had with Mik, so odds are she and I will most likely do some travel together in the future (although her job does NOT allow her to work remotely, and her finances are that of a hard-working, middle-class person, so any trips will have to be short interspersed ones).
After Ballarat I met up with Mik again in Adelaide, where he was visiting another girlfriend. From there we did a road trip along the Great Ocean road (link to all blogs on that topic). I’ve yet to do much blogging about that because at the time the post-concussive syndrome meant I didn’t have the mental strength to do much of anything. And then, I went to Korea and Japan and I had other things to write about … so my backlog of posts I need to complete is currently set to 140 (YAH!). Am thinking I need to think about staying put in one place long enough to catch up …
That said, during that whole road trip I was really only able to do things that meant leaving the car for short distances. I could NOT manage enough moving around to REALLY be able to SEE any one location in its full glory… let alone the mental energy to be able to really enjoy it. Just sitting in a moving car kind of made my brain feel like it was buzzing. As such, to be honest, I’d like to do it all over again, because my memories from that whole period are a bit hazy (like I said, post concussive syndrome). Only this time I’d cover shorter distances on a daily basis and spend much more time at each location (how I like to travel versus how Mik likes to do it). That said, Mik was considerate and not irritating to be around during that whole thing, and didn’t get pissy about my limitations.
All through it we kept checking in with each other and both of us felt like this travel partnership was working for us. In particular, I was surprised at how not annoyed with him I was (there’s a reason I never got married, I find most people irritating after a while). At which point I actually allowed myself to feel some affection for Mik, because I was enjoying his company so much (and was grateful for how considerate he was being). From time to time there were minor issues but nothing to write home about. So we agreed, we’d start making plans for future travel once this trip was over.
After the road trip we ended up in Melbourne, where again I spent MOST of my time in bed getting over the mental strain of the road trip. We did however manage one day trip to Phillip Island, to see the Penguin Parade. We then drove towards Australia’s Capitol, Canberra, where both of us had friends,
…his where folks I sort of knew, from back when we all lived in SF, mine was a friend I had gone to the Royal College of Art, in London, with back when I was in my 20’s. This trip was also when I visited the locally famous Dog on a Tucker Box, and pit stopped at Glenrowan the home of Ned Kelly… for the first time (we stopped by both a 2nd time the following year, spending a goodly amount of time exploring Glenrowan)
After a few days in Canberra, we headed north to Sydney again, which is when we stopped at the Big Marino, for the first time (the following year, I asked if we could stop there again so I could actually get some shopping done, and climb up into the sheep’s head, as this time I wasn’t utterly wiped out, like the first time we went).
Once we got to Sydney, I spent MOST of my time resting. Since we still had the rental car, Mik took me and one of his girlfriends, who was visiting him from California, to see Sydney’s Luna Amuseument Park (although we didn’t do any rides or anything like that). Apparently, while in Melbourne he’d walked me to the doors of THEIR version of the same, but my brain was so addled at the time that I didn’t realize that we had till we drove by it the following year when we did a longer stay in Melbourne, and he reminded me of it (the first time, I was just thrilled with being able to do a reasonably energetic walk, as in the post concussive dizziness had subsided enough to allow me to do that).
About a week later we attended the ‘concluding’ Parade for one of Sydney’s biggest tourist draws, MariGras Week — which happens the same week as Catholic MardiGras, but that at some point converted from a Catholic pre-lent thing into Australia’s biggest LGBTQ event (Again, I’ve not yet written that blog post, so I can’t explain why, yet). After that, we headed off on our separate ways, while making plans for possible future joint travel.
SO, a few months later we met up again in for a week in Ohio, where we spent a few days in Dayton, Ohio … a town I’d been wanting him to see. Dayton is in my opinion is one of the most undervalued tourist destinations in the US, as most Americans today have completely forgotten what the town had been in the past (it WAS the USA’s equivalent of today’s silicon valley during the industrial revolution). Mik, an engineer by trade, had passed through Dalton before, on the way to visiting friends who lived in nearby Columbus, OH, but didn’t realize its historic value and had never taken the time to really SEE it, but I had spoken to him about it at length, and had managed to convince him it was up his alley of interests. Turned out he wasn’t so much into issues of flight/travel… but what the town was ultimately about was the evolution of engines, and THAT he is very interested in, so he ended up enjoying himself but for very different reasons than I did. And here in lies one of the MAJOR differences between how Mik likes to travel and how I like to do it.
[return to the meat]
It was after our Ohio trip, while planning our future ones, that I began realizing that most of my choices were turning into doing what he wanted and trailing after him. Me I’m essentially pretty easy, so as long as what he wanted to do was something I was physically capable of (my health issues meant I couldn’t go hiking with him, as much as I would have liked to) all good. The opposite, functionally, only happened after HOURS of negotiating, and tended to result in… you know how when you’re traveling with a little kid you have to actively plan it around what they want to do cause otherwise they’ll make it hell for you? It was a bit like that…. doing anything that he wasn’t really interested in meant being abandoned, because he was never willing to just trail along behind me.
Also, the entirety of the planning burden, was ending up on my shoulders. I was the one who had to search for out next digs, and every time it had to meet his needs, which included him having his own bedroom in any town he had lovers, so that he could have dates… which meant we weren’t really saving any money traveling together in those places. Only I had to also wait on him to agree to each location. I’d create lists of possible apartments, send him the list and then have to wait a full week or sometimes two or THREE weeks for him to get back to me, because he basically had to have nothing fun and hence distracting lined up before he be willing to sit down and do the work of planning.
That was when our disconnects started to really aggravate me. Oh, the conflicts were all pretty low-level. He and I really are pretty much OK with each other, it’s just that for me the benefits of traveling together were quickly getting outweighed by the annoyance of we are VERY different people. It worked for a while, then it didn’t. He likes the weather hot to equatorial, I like the weather cool enough to be able to wear a light jacket and a hat. If I agree to go where its hot and miserable, it happens, if I want to go somewhere cool, it rarely happens. He likes hills and mountains, I like looking at them from flat places where I can walk easier — cause I have real mobility issues and a high risk of falling if they’re not respected. I like shopping, historical and cultural stuff, he’s ok with that in short doses, but his priority is all about being social with old friends, reconnecting with old lovers and whenever possible finding new ones. I need a low-fat but in protein rich diet, he wants a high fat vegetarian one (and is disgusted by the smell of meat and fish). I love Japanese and Chinese food, he actively dislikes those kinds. I like things structured and organized in such a way as to allow for flexibility within obligations (which I never resent), he prefers lots of spontaneity and being able to do whatever he feels like doing whenever he feels like doing it (and resents the obligations that means he can’t, even though he admits there are a lot of benefits that come with my way of doing it).
This caused issues like him agreeing to things after long discussions, and then promptly forgetting anything agreed to that he didn’t actually want to do. At first I thought I was going crazy thinking this was the pattern, but I reached out to a bunch of mutual friends who had been his former partners, and they ALL said, “YUP, that’s what he does!” In NZ this actually resulted in me waiting to be picked up from Hobbiton at 10pm (which is the middle of NOTHING) — even after my having said to him repeatedly, “you’ll pick me up at 10 right?” with him gripping and saying he’d already agreed to that so why was I repeating the question?… (I had because I knew he didn’t want to) …. only to realize he had in his own head decided that I’d agreed to finding my own way home. SERIOUSLY! Oh, and in addition, I prefer staying places for at least a few days each so I can rest a lot, and preferably for months if it’s a major city that has a lot of offer … while he gets antsy staying anywhere for more than 6 weeks (unless it’s a place he thinks of as home), and would prefer to not be there more than 3. … SO, yes, what it came down to was a basic disconnect
My theory about why it worked so well the first trip, but then did a mind blistering 180 the 2nd time we went to Australia, is that, at that point, in his head (he HATES when I do this), our relationship had shifted from “I’m on probation and being considered for a gig” to “OK, I can relax now, this is a sort of relationship with legs, she’s a housemate… with a moving house.” I’ve actually had a relationship like that in the past with the one guy I almost married. We were GREAT right up until I said “YES” to the ring, so to speak… and then from that day forward he went from absolutely charming bordering on perfect, to becoming a right asshole. When I asked him what had changed he’d said to me, “well you’re almost family now, I shouldn’t HAVE to be nice to family.” In Mik’s case… this was things like, he had been super clean and neat the first year, but then turned into something of a minor slob the 2nd (leaving puddles of water in the bathroom, wanting to bring food into my bed when we were streaming a show, etc).
I have confirmation of this being the fact with Mik, because over the last 4 months, every time he and I would have a “big talk”, or I get seriously pissed at him, he’ll shift back into the guy I was traveling with the previous year, at least for a few days…the same guy who I think (based on my personal observations), shows up when he’s with his sweeties (women he’s in non-monogamous relationships with who he only see sporadically, or for short stints) …. and everything will be good… and then he’d get comfortable again and all the behaviors I couldn’t stand would start-up again. (And again, I contacted all the women I know who’ve done long relationships with him, or whose sisters used to be his housemates, and they all confirmed, I wasn’t being neurotic… it was consistent with what they knew of him.) When that switch in his behavior would happen, I got annoyed and short-tempered and snarky with him… with lots of under my breath commentaries. Keep in mind, we’d done big talks to no effect, so I just gave up on trying …. because its pointless to talk about something when it never makes a difference because he just rejects that what I’m unhappy with happened or worse, he accepts it, and then forgets the conversation ever happened. There’s no learning curve, so — either way, it’s a lose lose scenario for me … till the next blow up, at which point he’s worried about his security again and he’s back to who I thought I’d be traveling with in the first place … that same guy who is great and easy to have around. Then wash, rinse, repeat … he gets comfortable again, stops minding his p’s and q’s…. we are back to where we started.
Also, as long as my health issues were emergency mode… he was great, but then he’d lose patience with not being able to do what he wanted to do when he wanted to do it. So, not wanting to be abandoned, I’d try my damnedest to keep up his pace, and inevitably end up falling down (literally, I went boom a lot more often with him than I do alone). Add to that the fact that he kept coming back from visits to girlfriends (many of whom have kids) with colds, and passing those colds on to me… He’s of the sort who gets better after 3 days, I’m the sort who stays seriously ill for a solid 2 to 3 weeks… and by the 2nd cold in 3 months… well, enough was enough. He was in fact ruining my experiences.
Insanity is doing the same thing over and over expecting different results. We’ve had THREE major attempts at fixing this in the last 4 months of traveling together, and the pattern got repeated. Three strikes and done. I told him in NZ, strike 2 … well yelled at him really, that I no longer wanted to go with him to Amsterdam. Then back in Sydney we had yet another blowup (in front of one of his dates) … after which, he’d been on BEST behavior, till finally I was like, “we need to talk about Amsterdam”, he agreed we did… and we agreed to cancelling that and all future trips.
The fact that I had, to his minor annoyance, insisted that we maintain a spread-sheet of ‘who paid what’ at this point turned out to have been a VERY good thing in the long run. For some small things, like dinners where the waiter refused to split the checks, we’d kept a pattern of taking turns, but for pretty much everything else, that all went into the spread sheet. I STRONGLY suggest this to anyone who gives this a try! Of course, he was the one in charge of the spread sheet (because he’s a computer programmer and knows how to make it REALLY work, while I’m clueless beyond using it as set up; as in every time I try to do more than just input data I’d seriously fuck it up and he’d have to go in and change the coding. That said, Mik being Mik, it wasn’t what he wanted to do, so it took him a few weeks to get around to it, with me having to send him constant reminders and him saying “oh yah, thanks for the reminder, I forgot.”; but, he FINALLY finalized it about 3 weeks AFTER he’d promised it would be done by (every leg of planning was like this, hence my mounting frustration with him)… with the end result being he owed me money… which he sent me via PayPal (about a week after figuring out he needed to — yes that me rolling my eyes). Last week, because he wanted my photos but was utterly unwilling to download them one at a time from cloud, we finally figured out how to cross share photographs — I’m a mac person, he’s a PC/Android person, it caused problems… DROP BOX is your friend ladies and gentleman… That said, it was ONLY our friend because he has a corporate account with them which allowed for (almost) infinite hard drive space. His google cloud account would only allow me to download from him a few at a time… not ALL at once as he was demanding… but unlike him, I have a modicum of patience. His unwillingness to accommodate to how websites like Airbnb wanted him to function versus how HE wanted to function, was part of why I ended up doing ALL the leg work of planning via those sites. ….snark snark snark