Home for a Rest

Despite my frequent changes in location and occupation over the past three years, this September marked the most dramatic transition I have experienced in a long time. I don't really possess the words to explain why - I'm not totally sure I even understand how extreme this shift has been yet. With that acknowledgement of emotional turbulence out of the way, here's a few actual events that happened in my first semester as a graduate student. Maybe they'll help illuminate things.

But first - remember how I used to play basketball? I shot around mostly by myself in Arthur's Pass, and played once a week while I was in Spain. I've been dribbling a basketball since I could stand, but I gave plenty of sports a try at one time or another. A few years ago, it occurred to me that basketball is a relatively safe sport that I could expect to play for more years than certain others (rugby, for instance). I'm also more talented at it than any other game, so I decided to make it my sport of choice. Returning to a university setting also meant the possibility of intramurals, pickup games, etc. But guess what happened on September 1 during a casual game of 21?

 

I badly dislocated my right middle finger - my shooting hand, and on a day when I was ON FIRE. I have photos of the x-ray, but they have made people gag, so I won't post them here. After weekly occupational therapy and four months of playing time, I'm clear to play again. My hand was a conversation starter as I met my new classmates and professors, and did not inhibit note-taking as I write with my left hand. It also served as a reminder of the convenience of the Canadian health care system - apart from a lengthy wait in the emergency room. No bills, no forms, just a friendly occupational therapist who met with me weekly for months. She also reminds me that I'll "have a fat finger forever," and that my "hand modeling days are over." I told her I can still model my left hand.

After that little excitement, my term began. As we will spend much of our time studying the Halifax Regional Municipality (HRM), the first year of the MPlan program starts with an optional field trip to a destination anywhere else in the Maritime Provinces (Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick, for the non-Canadians reading this). We spent several nights in Yarmouth, NS, and took day trips to various nearby locations. The whole thing was an excellent way for the new class to get acquainted with each other and the program. Plus, I went on the best whale-watching trip of my life.

Whale-watching off Brier Island.

Peggy's Cove.

Lunenburg.

Sunset in Yarmouth.

Once the actual classes got started, my definition of "busy" had to be rewritten. Planning is a diverse, complex field, and it seems the best way to learn it is by doing. I agree with that philosophy, but when "learning by doing" means having multiple assignments due almost every week, it also means coming up with creative metaphors to explain the situation. Drowning was one that I used frequently in September, or the more colo(u)rful version in which I described my class as a group of preschoolers being taught how to swim by being kicked into the deep end of a pool. 

I emphasize that I used those terms in September, because as the assignments started getting submitted and the grades started coming back, we all began to adjust. By the end of October, I'd gained some degree of comfort - I stopped listening to pump-up music before presentations, for one thing. As the final assignments rolled around in December, the stress had been replaced by the most complete burnout I've ever experienced. I have no creative metaphors for how burnt out I was because...I was burnt out. But I guess this group of preschoolers figured out how to swim. Or at least keep our heads above water.

Being so busy has not completely prevented me from having a social life. My classmates and I dominated a campus trivia night for weeks before our first loss. It's been a while since I lived in a city that has professional sports teams, so I've made it out to a Mooseheads hockey game and a Rainmen basketball game (Canada has its own pro basketball league - who knew?). Most importantly, several friends from the past have become friends in the present, a privilege I never anticipated.

The Rainmen don't draw big crowds, but those of us that go get good seats for cheap.

But the holidays have been a welcome opportunity to exhale, recharge, and get some perspective. This program has been forcing me to ask myself a number of questions, few of which have easy answers. However, I'm only three months into a two-year program. Of more immediate concern is that I'm two weeks into my break, and there remains ample sleeping and chocolate-eating to be done before next semester starts.          

Montreal, part of the scenic route I took home by train.

Return of the Nerd!

Since this post, I have been letting the subject of my plans for September fall by the wayside. Now that the North Island, the South Island, and Saipan are behind me, it's time to explain my next adventure.

In the three years since I finished my undergraduate degree, I have intentionally worked a variety of different jobs to broaden my experience. Potential career paths have been spinning through the back of my mind, each with roughly the same level of appeal. After three years spent investigating, the biggest conclusion I have made is that it would take several lifetimes to explore the possibilities offered by every one of my interests. However, I also realized that I did not want to spend the rest of my days making coffee and sandwiches for just above minimum wage. I wanted to be doing something that made positive change, so at least I could finish each day comfortable in the knowledge that I was doing what I could to improve the world. Being a barista did not do that for me.

It became clear that graduate school was in the cards, and I used my extended stay in New Zealand to explore various options online. The study of planning (you may have heard it called urban planning) has attracted me for several years now. I have long been convinced that humanity's relationship with the planet is out of sync, and the planning of towns and cities seems like an excellent way to manage that relationship. Planning also combines several of my other interests, allowing me to get a sense of what the aforementioned "several lifetimes" might have been like.

After coordinating references, transcripts, and personal statements through the wonder of the internet, I was enthusiastically accepted at Dalhousie University, in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Their MPlan is a two-year degree with a mandatory work term. My only hesitation about it was the two-year commitment (European degrees are one year), but the more I hear about it, the more I'm glad I accepted their offer. I recently made a visit to Halifax to arrange housing and get acquainted with the city. A number of friends from my undergraduate years happen to be living in the area as well, and one is even in the same program.

I will do my best to update the blog while at Dalhousie, although much of the material might be filed under "planning nerd." Time will tell.

Meanwhile, here's an assortment of photos from the past three years.

Logroño's bridge over the Rio Ebro.

Bambi, the deer that the staff took care of at Pueblo Ingles.

Eating clam chowder from a bread bowl in San Francisco - it was better than my facial expression indicates.

Stormtroopers guarding the Willis St mall in Wellington.

The crayfish tail I cooked in Arthur's Pass.

A ringtail possum in the tree outside Chris' house in Brisbane.

Bird Island near Saipan.

Island Leaping

Those of you who have read this post will recall that I was not headed directly home when I left Auckland on June 1st. After my parents and I traveled around the South Island, over the Cook Strait, and up the guts of the North Island, our journeys diverged. Mom, having spent the previous month on two long-distance trips, headed home. Dad and I were on our way to Saipan, which is so small this spell check doesn't even recognize it as a word.

In an age when David Beckham can commit to play simultaneously for the LA Galaxy and the English national team, and Ryan Nelsen can play two games in London and one in Auckland in a week, it might seem like almost anywhere is easily accessible by plane. I assure you, that is false - although our journey did begin in New Zealand, a long haul from almost anywhere. When Dad and I left Auckland, we were on our way to Tokyo, a mere 10-hour flight. After some sushi and a few giggles at Japanese toilets, we hopped a three-hour flight to Seoul. We spent the night in Seoul airport's "Rest and Relax" area, a free place to sleep, use the internet, and even have a shower in the morning. We had to work out some confusion over whether we were arriving or connecting, but once it was all cleared up, it proved to be the nicest airport I've ever slept in (and I've slept in a few). Once we'd showered, we boarded yet another flight, this one a four-hour ride over the Pacific to Saipan. For some reason, we were bumped up to first class on our last flight. It was so comfortable we almost didn't want to arrive.

But arrive we did, and I spent a week with Dad getting a sense of life on Saipan. Saipan is in the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands (CNMI), which is related to the USA in much the same way as Puerto Rico. When Dad was working here in the late 1960s, all of Micronesia was a Trust Territory of the UN, administered by the USA. In the intervening years, that Trust Territory has split into CNMI and the independent nations of Palau, the Marshall Islands, and the Federated States of Micronesia. CNMI's unique relationship with the US has odd results, such as products being labelled as "Made in the USA for export only," while the immigration officials at the airport are American.

Aside from the political changes since Dad was last in Saipan, far more tangible economic changes have altered the look of the island. A possession of Japan before World War II (and the site of a major battle during it), the Japanese have returned in droves as tourists. Just as Americans vacation in the Caribbean and Kiwis in Polynesia, the Japanese vacation in Saipan. There are also hefty quantities of tourists from South Korea, Russia, and China. Tourism has led to resort hotels by the dozen and duty-free shopping downtown - there's a Louis Vuitton on Saipan.

However, Dad's experience connected him with the native Chamorro and Carolinian people of Saipan, and we spent most of our time with them. People welcomed Dad like a long-lost family member - literally. I've been enthusiastically informed that I am family now too and welcome to return whenever I like. We spent much of our time catching up with Dad's old friends and visiting sites that he remembered. There was always plenty of food, drinks, and music, which made for a consistently pleasant atmosphere (it also helped explain why obesity and diabetes are such serious problems there). I consumed more coconut products than I had in my entire life up to that point, strummed a ukulele in front of a crowd, and saw avocados the size of eggplants. I also learned about betelnut, a mild stimulant that the Carolinians chew religiously. The instantly noticeable red stain on a person's teeth is a dead giveaway.

Life on Saipan is heavily influenced by the weather. Many household activities take place outdoors, as the humidity is even more stifling indoors. I've learned that Carolinians tend to relax on their floors, rather than on chairs or couches, and now I know why - it's cooler down there! Dad frequently marveled at the fact that he had lasted for two years in such oppressive conditions, and I could barely last two hours without relief. Furthermore, Saipan has one of the most uniform climates on Earth, meaning it's a sauna all year round. The only exception we found was higher, exposed areas which get regular breezes off the ocean, and they were like oases in the desert. When I visited Brisbane I was lucky enough to miss the worst of the heat and humidity; on Saipan I had to confront it 24 hours a day.   

Words can only explain so much about the week we spent in Saipan. It was one of the most unique and unusual weeks of my life. But all good things come to an end, and we had another flight odyssey ahead of us. An early-morning flight to Guam connected us to an eight-hour flight to Honolulu, where we spent a day to adjust to the time change (and for me to set foot in Hawaii). From there we took a seven-hour red-eye flight to Denver and a three-hour flight to Toronto. I learned two things on that last journey: United is an airline to be avoided, and the Pacific Ocean is HUGE. The magnitude of the distance set in on the drive home; luckily, Mom was driving.

Japanese toilets come with an explanation.

Look at that legroom!

Dad strumming away on our first afternoon on Saipan.

Ping showing me how to prepare a betelnut - it's a complicated process!

Dad outside the school where he used to teach.

Dad outside his old house with some of the Borjas, his old neighbours.

Cutting betelnut off the trees.

No words necessary.

Eating a mango peeled like a banana.

Drinking a coconut.

Ping, Dad, Lino, and me.

Pineapples and avocados - yes, the avocados are as big as they look.

Didn't I just go through US Immigration? Kinda? Maybe?

Suicide cliff.

The Grotto.

Island paradise? I think so.

Puppies everywhere!

A flame tree.

Island paradise? Another vote yes.

 

Going Out in Style

My parents once told me that if I ended up spending two years in New Zealand, they would try to come visit. New Zealand has become another home to me, and considering that it's not a place one can easily visit from North America, I was happy to give Mom and Dad a reason to make the trip. After a couple weeks spent zipping around the North Island and catching up with friends in Wellington, I flew to Christchurch to meet my parents after their trans-Pacific flight odyssey.

We only had two weeks to spend in the country together, unfortunately, so planning an itinerary was challenging. A number of compromises had to be made, especially as Dad was limited by some pretty serious sciatica aggravated by hours spent sitting in airplanes. Having just finished a meditative solo trip around the North Island, I had to adjust quickly to travelling not just as a group, but as a family. It had been just under a year since I'd even seen my parents, and now I was partly their tour guide as well as their son. And that's not to mention that I was still in the process of moving two years' worth of belongings back to North America. I had spent the previous year establishing a comfort zone in Arthur's Pass, and now I was emphatically out of it. With all that being said (or written), our trip went fantastically.

After meeting up in Christchurch airport and “uplifting” our rental car, we made a quick stop for some lunch and I drove us up to Arthur's Pass in the rain. We spent three nights there. I did my best to tie up loose ends while showing Mom and Dad around and introducing them to the people who shaped my time in the mountains. Mom, who hikes frequently back in Northern Ontario, quickly made the adjustment to hiking in the Southern Alps. Dad's sciatica kept him off the trails, but he learned more about local history in three days than I had in a year (thanks to John Charles).

We could have easily spent more time in Arthur's Pass, but our time was limited and there was more to see. So on Monday (Mom's birthday), I left the village that had been my home for the last time. We stopped in Greymouth to go to the post office, then in Hokitika to do some gift shopping, and then at the TreetopsWalk just south of Hokitika. I had hoped for another stop at the Bushmans Centre in Pukekura – my last chance at a possum pie! - but, being the low season, it was already closed. We ended that drive in Franz Josef, where we spent two nights. In addition to hiking, we arranged some more involved medical care for Dad in Fox Glacier and had medicine delivered via InterCity bus that would suffice for the rest of the trip.

After Franz Josef, we drove to Haast, where I had my last sight of the Tasman Sea, and then through the Haast Pass to Wanaka. It's easy to like Wanaka, and Mom and Dad certainly did. I made sure to go to Cinema Paradiso one more time – Dad and I watched The Company You Keep, but the film isn't really what matters when you go to Cinema Paradiso. It's the cookies. Mom kept hiking, and I took off on my own to walk up Isthmus Peak, on the isthmus between Lakes Wanaka and Hawea. It was a greater challenge than I thought, but well worth the views.

Our next destination was Lake Tekapo, the one spot on our journey that I had not visited. The drive over Lindis Pass was beautiful, but MacKenzie Country was the real stunner. After stopping in Omarama for lunch, we drove through Twizel and made a stop at the southern end of Lake Pukaki. It was a clear day, and Mt. Cook was visible at the other end. After tearing ourselves away from the great view, we continued on to Lake Tekapo. I've said it before and it's still true: New Zealand keeps finding new ways to amaze me. The scenery along that whole stretch of road was jaw-droppingly gorgeous. We spent two nights in Tekapo, taking tons of photos, marvelling at how the view across the lake was just as good by the light of the moon, and hiking up Mt. John.

Our longest drive on the South Island was between Tekapo and Kaikoura. We took the “inland scenic route” along highway 72 to Darfield, which was still mostly farmland, and made an afternoon stop in Christchurch. The red zone cordon had recently been reduced downtown, so I had my first sight of Christchurch Cathedral. I also introduced Mom and Dad to the Re:Start Mall, which was buzzing with activity. But we had to move on to Kaikoura, and stayed there two nights. After visiting the seal colony, Mom and I walked the Kaikoura Peninsula track and met up with Dad for a picnic in South Bay. We also spent some time arranging the logistics for the rest of our trip, as we were to return the rental car to Picton.

On the drive up to Picton, we stopped at the Ohau Point seal colony. Have I mentioned how New Zealand keeps finding new ways to amaze me? Like something out of an animated children's movie, we walked up a small stream from the ocean to a waterfall, at the bottom of which was a pool teeming with seal pups. Inland from the coastal seal colony, it was essentially a “seal daycare” where the parents leave their pups while they go fishing. Dad took a video (see below). There are no words to accurately describe it – simply one of the coolest things I've ever seen.

Our ferry from Picton was delayed by rough weather on the Cook Strait, but it was sunny in Picton. I made one last visit to the Village Bakkerij with Dad, then we all enjoyed the view of the waterfront while waiting for the boat to arrive. This strait crossing was my fourth, and the roughest one yet. I spent it lying down with my hat over my eyes to spare myself the sight of waves crashing over the side and other passengers losing their lunches. That kept me shipshape, and my biggest complaint was actually that we didn't get to arrive in Wellington in daylight.

We spent three nights in Wellington being tourists, dining out, and catching up with friends. On our last day there, Mom and Dad made their own bus tour of the city using the transit network while I did the last of my packing. Then we had a Wellington evening that could have been straight out of the Lonely Planet guidebook: dinner at KK Malaysian, a theatre production at Downstage Theatre, and gelato from Kaffee Eis for dessert. I hope it wasn't my last time in Wellington, but at least that was a great way to finish if it was.

As renting a car was the cheapest way for us to get to Auckland (we left it too late to buy plane tickets), we spent our last full day in New Zealand on the road. It's a long drive, but we have a family history that includes plenty of those. And I was thrilled that Mom and Dad were able to see some of the North Island too. We followed SH1 from Wellington to Auckland through Taupo, and although we bypassed Hamilton, it was almost exactly the same route I followed on the bus my first day in the country. After finding our hotel near the airport, I spent my last night in the country watching rugby at the pub downstairs. Again, if that was my last time in New Zealand – and I hope it wasn't – it's not a bad way to go out. 

Dad walking in the treetops.

Saying goodbye to the Tasman Sea at Haast Beach.

Lake Hawea from Isthmus Peak.

That's Mt. Cook on the left.

At Lake Tekapo.

Lake Tekapo.

Christchurch Cathedral.

Mom and I at Ohau Point seal colony.

Ohau Point. See video below...

Ruapehu.

Dad and I at Lake Taupo.

The Great Green and Blue North

When I extended my stay in New Zealand, my new visa tied me to my job in Arthur's Pass. As a result, my mobility was slightly more limited than it had been under my working holiday visa. I had left most of the North Island unexplored when I ventured South, intending to revisit it later. When I stopped work at the end of April, over a month before my visa expired, I finally kept that promise to myself.

My plan was to tour the North Island in a rented campervan. It would allow me greater mobility than the bus network, and the ability to create my own itinerary as I went. Luckily, May is the beginning of the low season for tourism in New Zealand, and quite a few rental companies offer relocation deals as they prepare for the summer's onslaught of tourists. I managed to find such a deal through Spaceships Rentals, the terms of which were pretty simple: if I picked up the van in Christchurch and returned it to Auckland, I could have it for as many days as I wanted at 50% off. Not bad. I did have to pay for the ferry, which costs significantly more with a vehicle, and $30/day for insurance, simply because of some complications with my finances.

I rented the van for 16 days, and spent much of my time driving. It had been two years since I'd driven any motorized vehicle, and I was content to be behind the wheel in one of the world's most beautiful countries for hours at a stretch. My van was equipped with a gas cooker and a bed, so my only concerns were food, fuel, and finding places to park overnight. The last was the greatest challenge, not for lack of space but for the legal uncertainty surrounding overnight parking. Some New Zealanders have an extreme mistrust of “freedom campers” - tourists who attempt to travel the country while paying for as little as possible. I am not one of those, I just believe that driving around with a bed in the back of my van is pointless if I still have to pay for somewhere to sleep. But I managed to avoid paying much, either by finding free places or staying at the reasonably-priced Department of Conservation sites. And once or twice I treated myself to a night at a campground for the better facilities, location, and added security.

Blessed with good weather, I drove just over 3800 kilometres in 16 days, and have now seen pretty much every part of the North Island except Wairarapa and Wanganui. Here's a few of the highlights:

Highway 35 north of Gisborne is a series of bays with plenty of freedom camping and countless spectacular views. Whale Rider was filmed in this area. I passed through as the sun was going down, unfortunately, but what I saw was incredible. That drive also took me to the East Cape, where I was one of the first people to see the sun rise on May 4. The sunrise was blocked by cloud, but the drive back as the sun rose along the hills was a treat.

The climb to the low peak of Mt. Taranaki was short but strenuous. I think it was the first time I've stood on an active volcano. The small town of Okato on the Taranaki coast was a nice place to stop for a bite, and New Plymouth is probably the most underrated urban centre I've been to in the entire country.

Northland was surprisingly awesome. It's much bigger than I realized and I missed plenty of things. What I did see in my brief visit included the Waipoua Forest, which holds the largest trees in the country; Cape Reinga, where the Tasman meets the Pacific; Waitangi, where the treaty that began the country was signed; and Whangarei, another underrated urban centre. The biggest surprise, however, was Hokianga Harbour. I had to pull over when I got my first glimpse of it – stunning.

The whole trip was great and I would have happily continued it for the rest of the month. But I returned the van to Auckland, flew to Wellington for a three-day visit, and then flew to Christchurch to meet my parents, which is where the next phase of my departure from New Zealand began.

Pukerua Bay, home of Peter Jackson and Olivia Blaza-Forest.

Palmerston North, where the city centre needs to warn people off bringing heavy livestock vehicles in.

Lake Tutira in Hawke's Bay.

Driftwood surf shack in Hawke's Bay.

Looking back at East Cape Lighthouse after sunrise.

Mt. Ruapehu as seen from the Forgotten World Highway.

Mt. Taranaki and cows.

Hokianga Harbour.

Sunset at Cape Reinga.

Welcome to Waitangi!