Tour Sydney whirlwind style

With merely two and a half days in Australia’s largest city, I scoured guidebooks and locals’ minds for suggestions as to the must-see sights. Looking like a total tourist (which I hate doing but sometimes feel is necessary for a myriad of reasons) by sporting my tennis shoes, a windbreaker, and my daypack, I hit Sydney’s streets non-stop.

Now I’ve created my top five must-do list for future travelers:
1. Attend a performance at the Sydney Opera House: Views from the outside do no justice to the acoustically-ideal interior. Learn, as I did, that the Opera House consists of six separate performance halls, not one.
2. Walk the Royal Botanic Gardens: Allow at least two hours to stroll from Mrs. Macquaries Point, offering picturesque views of the Opera House and Harbour Bridge, through the lower gardens along the Farm Cove waterfront.
3. Cross the Sydney Harbour Bridge: While the high fences (installed to hinder “jumpers”) detract from the city views, this typical tourist activity shouldn’t be missed. Empty your camera’s memory card beforehand to provide plenty of space for shots of the city’s skyscrapers, waterways, and world-renowned buildings.
4. Dine waterfront in Darling Harbour: Whether you prefer seafood, Thai, or kangaroo steak, one of the restaurants overlooking Cockle Bay and the Central Business District easily fills a hungry belly. I recommend eggs Florentine at Nick’s for a leisurely brekkie (breakfast).
5. Shop at Paddy’s Market: Every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, stalls fill the ground floor of Market City selling almost anything imaginable. I opted for a pair of faux designer sunglasses, but locals crowded the fresh fruit and veggie stands making that area barely passable.

English doesn't translate to English always

People in the U.S. speak English. People in New Zealand speak English. But English is a broad term for one language and the differences in vocabulary could fill a translation dictionary.

I have been speaking English for the past month, but I haven’t been speaking American. Locals refer to everyday objects with completely different names than I do. Here are a few words:

U.S. English : Kiwi English
Cooler = Chilly bin
Ice pack = Slicker pad
Sandwich = Sammie
Cookie = Biscuit
Flip-flops = Jandals
Swimsuit = Togs
Panties = Knickers
Jacket = Jumper
Tennis shoes = Trainers
Mini-van = People mover

And my favorite Kiwi saying:
Sweet as: I confirm that what you’re proposing is good with me

Since terms like bugger (oh, crud) have infiltrated my daily vocabulary, I feel more integrated into the Kiwi lifestyle. Unfortunately y’all doesn’t translate and only elicits laughs and signals my Southern U.S. upbringing. Apparently, I fool a few people though because my seatmate on my Christchurch to Sydney flight today thought I was a Kiwi. Too bad I’m in Oz now and have to learn the Aussie terminology.

Special thanks to my Christchurch gal Sara for teaching me the majority of my Kiwi English.

Pictured: Some messages, such as beware of falling rocks and ice, are too important to risk being lost in translation. Fox Glacier’s safety signs forgo words in favor of pictures.

Lake Matheson sunrise speaks for itself

As a writer, my professors and editor mentors taught me early in my career to avoid clichés like the plague. But a whole book describing the morning sun peaking over Mt. Cook and cascading onto Lake Matheson would never do justice to the moment. The calm water perfectly reflected Mt. Cook and Mt. Tasman, whose peaks nosed into clouds.

Only four miles outside of Fox Glacier village, the hour’s walk around the lake jumpstarted my day with unparalleled beauty.

Sometimes, a picture truly is worth a thousand words.

View atop Fox Glacier provides perspective

Donning cleated hiking boots and cramp-ons (metal teeth that clamp to the bottom of boots), I cautiously guided my way across the glacier’s slushy surface. For stability, I jabbed my ice pick into the surface. Unlucky me though, previous hikers had worn down the pick’s point to a nub, rendering it almost useless.

Eight hundred steep steps ascending aside Fox Glacier brought our hiking group to this entry point where we trekked onto the ice. Our Fox Glacier Guiding leaders Steve and Megan led us through pre-cut paths, freshening the trail by hacking at the glacier’s face with massive double-headed picks.

All around us, crevasses and séracs added character to the glacier’s surface. Water (previously part of the glacier ice) flowed in crannies, pouring into holes melted away on the surface.

After navigating across blue ice for 20 minutes, we stopped on a flat vantage point. Every direction I turned gave me a more awe-inspiring view. Behind me the glacier inclined sharply toward it’s accumulation zone between the mountain peaks. In front of me, the glacier expanded into the valley, seemingly filling all the nooks in the terrain.

During the last ice age approximately 15,000 years ago, Fox Glacier reached the sea miles away. While the glacier has retreated since, it’s currently growing each year. Standing atop Fox Glacier, I felt I could truly see the glacier’s path, both past and future.

Pictured: Top: Looking at Fox Glacier from down the valley. Bottom: Hiking atop Fox Glacier with the inclined ice face behind me.

Queenstown reigns as the Global Adventure Capital

In what city in the world can you sky dive, bungy jump, hang glide, paraglide, jet boat, white-water raft, mountain bike, ski, ride horses, fish, and hunt almost year-round? Where else but Queenstown, New Zealand?

If anyone else knows of another city where such opportunities exist, please post in the comments. I certainly have never encountered such a Disneyland version of mind-blowing adventure activities to this extent.

For good reason, Queenstown claims the title of the Global Adventure Capital with flying colors. And did I mention all these activities are set against the backdrop of the Remarkables mountain peaks, Lake Wakatipu’s expansive shores, and the Kawarau and Lower Shotover Rivers winding coves? Sorry, that must have slipped my mind.

Actually, I will never forget the backdrop thanks to my bird’s-eye view of the land during my tandem SkyTrek hang gliding flight. At 8 a.m., I harnessed in with my Argentinean pilot Girardo in preparation for a 10-minute soar on the air thermals.

“One, two, three…Step, step, GO,” commanded Girardo as we literally ran off the side of the Remarkables. To my amazement, the air lifted us immediately and weightlessly into the sky. My eyes watered and my nose ran as the wind swept past us.

As Girardo guided our hang glider, I looked around at the amazing scenery. Above us the jagged Remarkables almost pierced the high clouds. Below us on the mountain’s slope, I spotted herds of red stags in velvet. Down on the grassy fields aside Lake Wakatip (as the locals call it), I watched two hang gliders land ahead of us.

“Want to do some tricks?” Girado asked, as we descended toward the landing field.

“Absolutely!” I enthusiastically replied.

“Hold on then” said Girardo, just before sending us into twisting spirals. Our hang glider would plunge downward then bank sharply in one direction before Girardo took us horizontal again. Basically an airborne roller coaster of sorts.

After starting a day with that, not much else could compete. But my new friend Sara and I opted for a jet boat ride nonetheless. Switching from air to water, the tricks continued.

Our Kawarau Jet driver sped down the Kawarau River at up to 85 kilometers per hour, turning the jet boat in thrilling 360-degree spins. While Sara and I couldn’t stop cheering, the Asian girls in front of us screamed at the tops of their lungs.

Diverting off the Kawarau, we skimmed across the Lower Shotover in merely 4 inches of water. Yes, 4 inches! Every wee (meaning “little”) bit, rocks would scrape against the boat’s hull slightly. On one rocky bank, a dirt bike rider awaited our approach then raced us down the river’s shore till we left him behind, desiring our speed.

Before the ride, Sara and I were comfortably dry. Afterward, we looked like drowning survivors. One hundred percent worth the douse to experience more of Queenstown’s adventurous side.

Pictured: Top: Girardo and me practicing before our hang gliding take-off. Bottom: View of the Remarkables from the Kawarau River during the jet boat ride.

My envisioned New Zealand comes alive

World Heritage sites span the globe from the Grand Canyon to The Great Wall of China. In the southwest corner of New Zealand, 2.6 million hectares (I’m pathetic at measurement conversions, so just excuse my switching between metric and standard units.) within four national parks create the Te Wahipounamu World Heritage area. Having just visited Mt. Cook National Park, I next ventured to Fiordland National Park further south to experience another component of these World Heritage lands.

The drive from the lakeside town of Te Anau to Milford Sound passed through vast expanses of untouched land, exactly the images that came to mind when I imagined New Zealand in years past.

Roadside lookout points throughout the Eglington Valley offered great views of sheer mountain faces on either side of the tussock-filled valley. At the Mirror Lakes pull-off, a boardwalk wound through beech forest down to wetlands where the lakes perfectly reflected the mountains in the still water. For a contrasting waterscape down the road at the Chasm, the Cleddau River rushes over and through rock faces, carving out holes and deep falls.

The Te Anau to Milford Highway ends, as expected, at Milford Sound. Tolerating the masses of tour groups was immediately rewarded aboard the boat as the fiord’s hidden coves revealed cascading waterfalls and New Zealand fur seals.

The 1,692-meter-high Mitre Peak rose from the dark, tannin-stained, water to oversee our boat cruise out to the sound’s mouth into the Tasman Sea. My two favorite spots along the ride were Bowen Falls, dropping from a valley in the Darren Ranges, and Harrison Cove where snowmelt from Mt. Pembroke enters the fiord via Harrison River.

Pictured: Top: Mirror Lakes reflecting the mountains across the Eglington Valley. Bottom: Bowen Falls plunging 160 meters into Milford Sound.

Tramping the Hooker Valley

Hearing the words “tramp” and “hooker” in a title could suggest the wrong image of my day. Quite the contrary, Kiwis use the word “tramping” to mean “hiking.” And the Hooker Valley is the valley leading up to Hooker Glacier with spectacular views of Mt. Cook.

The mountain towered above, slightly shrouded in clouds. I snapped away pictures in awe of the mountain’s height. Continuing my 3-hour hike, I walked over two swing bridges, which cross the Hooker River, to suddenly see an even taller mountain. What was the monstrosity before me now?

Apparently I had mistaken Mt. Sefton for Mt. Cook. Mt. Cook dwarfs Mt. Sefton by a few thousand feet, reaching 3755 meters and being the tallest peak in Australasia. Munching on my trail lunch of canned tomato basil tuna (New Zealand and Australia have every flavor imaginable of canned tuna!) and an apple, I sat aside Hooker Lake watching a Japanese hiker skip rocks toward mini icebergs. Mt. Cook loomed overhead with its formidable ice- and snow-capped peaks. Around me countless other mountains jutted into the air. Of the 27 mountains in New Zealand over 3050 meters, 22 are in Mt. Cook National Park.

After walking back into Mt. Cook Village, I met Pat and Maureen for “ice blocks,” a.k.a. ice cream treats. Pat and Maureen happen to be the most amazing 73-year-olds who can walk me into the ground without seeming winded. Pat’s calf muscles are so massive that they look like implants. Needless to say, I aspire for their health later in life.

That wasn’t the day’s capstone though. To cool off from my hike, I took a swim in the glacier-fed Lake Pukaki. Well, a swim is a huge exaggeration. It was more of a running dive into the 40-degrees-Fahrenheit water with an immediate retreat to my towel.

That wasn’t the day’s capstone either though. Sitting on my cabin’s porch, I had an unobstructed view of Mt. Cook and its neighboring peaks as the trees parted perfectly. Nothing better than having some distance to truly appreciate what I had just experienced up close.

Pictured: Top: Mt. Cook up close during my tramp. Bottom: Mt. Cook from afar on my porch at Glentanner Park.

World Buskers Festival brings crowd-pleasing acts to Christchurch

Seeing an eight-foot-tall unicycle isn’t a daily occurrence for me. Being in an elevator with an eight-foot-tall unicycle and its rider certainly was a first for me yesterday.

But when buskers are in town, such encounters are to be expected.

The buskers? In the simplest definition, buskers are street performers. But they bring much more to town than the amateur shows at Mallory Square in Key West.

Each year, the World Buskers Festival descends upon Christchurch for 11 days, bringing national and international entertainers to the city streets around Cathedral Square, Victoria Square, and the Arts Centre. Save a few shows, the performances are free except for the highly sought-after donations to buckets and hats.

Straightjackets, swords (to swallow!), and pogo sticks abound in solo, duo, and group performances throughout the day. Slackwire Sam, who traveled from Vermont to perform, juggled flaming batons while riding his unicycle across a slack-rope.

However no one I’ve watched competes with FUSE Circus. The five Kiwis (New Zealanders) take to an aerial performance stage to swing high above the crowd on trapezes, flip from bar to bar, and twist on aerial fabrics. The audience gasped every time a group member went airborne across the stage outstretched toward another member’s hands.

FUSE Circus’ human balancing acts likewise garnered audible compliments from the crowd. I still am in awe remembering my favorite balancing stunt of the evening (pictured top left).

Pictured: FUSE Circus performing in Victoria Square on Tuesday, January 27.

Hotel SO’s stellar location offsets shoebox-sized rooms

Advertised as ergonomically designed, Hotel SO fails to mention that its modern rooms might also give you claustrophobia.

During our weeklong stint in Christchurch, I’m staying at the newly-opened Hotel SO in central Christchurch. The techno music blaring in the lobby welcomes international visitors of all ages, avoiding language discrimination with its wordless beat.

My room exudes all that is hip: a flat-screen TV, mood lighting, and sleek built-in cabinets. Other hip features aren’t exactly to my liking. Take the raised, built-in bed for example. It feels like a ship’s bed with walls on three sides and an annoying blue nightlight underneath (although I know some people would like the light). I can’t imagine sleeping with another person in the bed. Whoever was against the wall would literally have to climb over the other person to reach the bathroom during the night.

Speaking of the bathroom, I refer to it as “the bubble.” Three steps away from my bed, the bubble contains a compact bathroom surrounded by rounded, frosted glass doors—not private from the room in the least. The sink, toilet, and shower are mere inches apart. You can utilize everything in the bathroom within an arm’s length.

I guess that I should consider myself lucky though. Why? I have a window! Many rooms have the same layout as mine but have a mirror instead of a window to deceptively enlarge the space.

Hotel SO’s location certainly counterbalances the squished rooms though. Two parks, delicious restaurants (highly recommend the chicken masala at Little India where I ate last night), trendy shops and bars, and numerous museums surround the hotel within a 10-minute walk. With all that awaits my exploration in Christchurch, I don’t plan on spending much time in the hotel anyway.

Pictured: My Hotel SO room. Notice how I had to pile all my bags against the door to take clean pictures.

In and around Christchurch

Considering it was noon in Georgia, my body awoke at 6 a.m. here yesterday. No need to waste the morning, so a walk through Hagley Park was in order. A mere five-minute walk from my hotel, Hagley adjoins the west edge of central Christchurch. The immense paved walkways overlook the park’s lakes, golf course, and soccer fields. And unlike many city parks in the States, no homeless people slept on the benches and trash was nonexistent. The only dilemma: which side of the path to walk on. Road paintings contradicted each other, some guiding walkers to the left and others to the right. No one I passed seemed to know either, as they walked on both sides.

My pasty white skin yearned for some sun. Off to Taylors Mistake. A beach that is, despite the unsuggestive name. Plenty of empty sand in the early afternoon, prior to the influx of locals, yielded a play place for paddleball with my new friends Tee and Wes. The chilly water felt like that at Maine’s Acadia National Park in the summer or like jumping in a lake during late fall. Completely worth the chill bumps to body surf some waves. Watching the hang gliders taking off from nearby peaks and flying overhead increased my desire to test out this adventure activity.

Just a 20-minute drive away and linked to Christchurch via a road tunnel, the town of Lyttelton holds the area’s harbor and delicious ice cream. In the heart of town, Empire General Store’s ice cream options range from boysenberry to chocolate fudge. At the recommendation of Tee, I opted for Gold Rush, a butter cream flavor with crispy chocolate chunks.

Back in the city, the eating continued with dinner at Portofino, an Italian restaurant on the Avon River, which looks like a creek. I couldn’t finish my generous serving of rigatoni with spinach, sundried tomatoes, and cream sauce. I learned that New Zealand wine lives up to its reputation with some Allan Scott Chardonnay.

The nightlife had just started at 205 bar. The exposed brick walls and long drapes surrounding nooks of seating created a cozy interior for drinks. Jetlag caught up with me shortly thereafter, culminating my night back in my tiny Hotel So room….more on the accommodations later.

Pictured: Taylors Mistake

Getting there is NOT half the fun

The saying “Getting there is half the fun” applies only to travel when you stop along the way for random exploration, such as eating coconut ice cream off the Hana Road en route to the black sand beaches.

Four flights, totaling twenty-four hours, only makes the destination all the more desirable.

On my Atlanta to San Francisco leg, my seatmate sprayed me with spit upon talking. My headphones and fake sleeping didn’t stop him from talking to me either. I’m considered talkative, but he rendered me a mute.

The San Francisco to Auckland flight rewarded me with an improved seatmate, an Aussie woman who provided countless tips for my late February Sydney trip. But thirteen hours in one seat just isn’t comfortable, despite Air New Zealand's relatively spacious seating.

Arriving in Christchurch, New Zealand to sunny skies and 75 degrees Fahrenheit weather made me quickly forget my stiff legs and slight headache. I’ll gladly put up with twenty-four hours in the air for this city, which proves lovely already.

Going Down Under

“The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page,” Saint Augustine once said.

My mom shared this quote with me after finding it in a book during our travels in Cape Town, South Africa last summer. Saint Augustine’s words resonate strongly with me, as I constantly desire to learn about our global community.

Please join me as I explore New Zealand and Australia while working for UGA Studies Abroad in the South Pacific and Caribbean. To learn about the program, visit Australia and New Zealand: Spring Semester.

Special thanks to April, Kristen, and Larry for assisting with the naming of this blog!