July/August 2007

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June 2007

The New Majestic

My temporary home in Singapore this summer will be the New Majestic Hotel in Chinatown. On my last flight home, a guy from Lucas Arts told me about this great designer boutique hotel where every room is different as designed by a different artist. It only has 30 rooms and is very-Kelly with mosaic bathrooms, relaxing music and some rooms even have their own bamboo garden with exterior bathtub.

http://www.newmajestichotel.com/


They let me keep my bags there all summer and as I come and go on weekends, I am put in a different room upon each return.

My first evening, I went for a run along the Esplanade and re-injured my knee trying to keep up with a cute expat from SF, who was giving me pointers on where to look for housing in Singapore.

“How long is your assignment?”

“One year.”

He laughs, “Everyone here is told one year and it ends up at least double that. I’m already a year and a half past my assignment date and still have another year or so to go…”

The next day, I go to meet with my engineering team at the International Business Park, home to my new, huge, glassed in, office for the summer. All the engineers and architects are from India, except for one Singaporean man and a Chinese girl. As I met with them one on one, I asked them to show me on a map what city they come from and tell me about the area, including how they got their name, because some are named after their father, some after their city, others don’t know. Some want to be called by their family name, others by a nickname that is not on any of my contact lists.

Happy Ending

Two days later my knee is tweaked from running on my past injuries and I’m back to self-physical therapy on the hotel fitness center bikes. As I wandered through Chinatown, I find a foot reflexology place - $20 for an hour and I have four hours to kill before I catch an overnight train to Kuala Lampur.

This little masochist Chinese man lures me in for relaxation, which it was everything but. He pulls the chicken meat off my calves, pierced my Achilles heal with his pinky nail, and pulled my piggies out of their sockets. With every yelp I made, he just presses harder.

“Pai gooud.”

“No, pain not good.”

“No, Pai gooud, you strong, you not weak like Singapore girls.”

Okay, even though I want to cry, with a comment like that, I’m going to try to be strong. Every point he pressed, I could feel sensations going from my heart to my foot. So sharp, goose bump ran down my spine. Another spot, I almost lost my bladder. And another spot, now keep in mind that all he was touching was my foot, I think I got a happy ending.

Hello Kitty

There is no where I go in this town where I am not forced to go shopping. The Singaporean culture revolves around shopping and I hate shopping. Even the public transit stations are shopping malls. And what is their fascination with Hello Kitty? She is everywhere.

I do enjoy roaming around Chinatown though. The night markets are very colorful with the red lanterns, street vendors and bright colored fabrics. There is a new temple that just opened too and even though it looks like the Chinese restaurant I used to go to in Naperville, Illinois, it was still pretty cool. A lot of Budas.

KL

Now being a countess and seasoned business traveler now, staying in five star hotels taxis paid by the company, and expense accounts – I was rudely awaken by the fact that my normal means of travel may be ruined for life. As I humbled myself to an overnight train to Kuala Lampur (KL), the first-class city state of Singapore has a third-world country inside it at the train station.

I am challenged by a squatter in the train station restroom. How come I can go to the bathroom anywhere in nature and manage not to pee on my ankles and pants, but as soon as I have a target and foot pads, I miss? So now I have to deal with my peed on pants for the next ten hours and WHAT…no toilet paper!!! For paying 20 cent to pee, I should at least have toilet paper!

That reminds me of another thing that I need to be acutely aware of being left handed. When I eat, I eat with my left hand. When I hand people things, it is usually with my left hand. When I point, it is with my left hand. I have been informed that I need to stop this behavior since most of the cultures in Singapore regard the left hand as the one you wipe your arse with.

I am probably one of three Caucasians in the whole train station and probably the only woman without a veil. It is stinky, crowded and everyone, especially children, are staring at me. I know it is just because I look different, but it kind of makes you feel like you have no privacy.

When I get to my bed on the train and settle in, an Indian family asked if I would change beds with one of their assignments since the wife was given a bed in another car. I have no problem with it and offer to do it. However, later I will find out that this is the worse bed I could possibly get – next to the toilet which smells like a zoo by five hours into the trip and people going in and out of the door between cars all night.

I figure, this is a good night for a sleeping pill. Now some of you may remember my story of taking a sleeping pill en route on a fight to Egypt some years ago, where I drank red wine and vowed never to that again after throwing up and passing out in the airplane potty. Well, thou shall never take sleeping pills on overnight trains either, ESPECIALLY, if there is any chance that you may have to pass through customs in the middle of the night.

We had to go through a control point when boarding the train, so I thought that was it for the passport check. Around midnight, I am rudely awakened by a conductor who wants me to disembark and join the others in a huge hall on the Malaysian boarder. I can hardly walk and keep my eyes open.

The agent looks at me, and my passport…

“You travel alone?”

“Yes.”

“You work in Singapore?”

“Yes.”

“Why you travel alone?” and he looks at me with a big frown of pity for me, “You have no friends?”

“Yes I have friends but they are not coming with me to Malaysia in the middle of the night.” And they are not stupid enough to take some third world chicken train to save a few bucks.

After that, I could not sleep all night and the train was almost 3 hours late getting to KL. I was kind of happy though since that meant I could see the Malaysian Jungle in the daylight and it was neat to pass through the little villages and watch from a train, even if I was sleeping in my own pee a little longer.

As we approached KL, I could see Petronas Towers in the skyline. My first architectural pilgrimage in years. The architect, Cesar Pelli, is a graduate of my alma mater. I saw him present the project back while I was in grad school and have wanted to see the towers ever since. The design is Islam meets a Chicago skyscraper and built a twin next door to Siamese connect them with a bridge. It is a beautiful structure and tomorrow I will be first in line for the sky bridge.

My hotel is right across the street at the Hotel Maya – amazing hotel, very Kelly – check it out online at www.hotelmaya.com.my – the giant therapeutic pool/Jacuzzi is very relaxingas you loose yourself in the modern design.

My camera broke today, but I hope I can retrieve the images to date. I guess I’ll HAVE to go shopping tomorrow.

Discotheque
THat evening, I went down to dinner at the hotel. No less than four people approached me, asking, “You travel ‘lone? Why you travel ‘lone. Where you husband? Where you boyfriend? How come you not married?” Asians do not do anything alone, especially the girls.

I went for a walk through town and was exposed to my first cat calls on the continent. Malaysia has a very Muslim and Middle Eastern presence due to the petroleum industry, so maybe it is the Sultan blood within them. I got to Zouk, a trendy disco to venture in. The ‘Ladies Express’ line took me through the crowds directly to the center of the Futurama dance club. Not only was I the only girl in the club, but the only Caucasian and the only blonde. It took me about a minute of feeling like a piece of meat before I headed back indoors, where I belonged.

Instead, I went to the hotel skydeck, looking at Petronas towers all lit up like giant Christmas honeycombs, to drink a cosmo. Another couple my age noticed me sitting alone and invited me over for a drink with them. This is why I love to travel alone, because I never get the experience to meet others when I am with friends. They were from the east coast but living in Korea. He was an IT specialist in the military and she taught English in a Korean school. It was fun venting on the differences of the Asian culture, especially the shopping fetish. Now I have friends in Korea for my next layover there.

Thursday was our groundbreaking ceremony for Genentech, where I was able to meet our Vice President and top scientists for our treatments: Lucentis and Avastin, which will be produced in our Singapore campus. The ceremony was formal with Ministers of Trade, Economics, Science and Technology and other high ranking Singaporeans attending alongside the US Ambassador.

In Asia, everything is about ‘Face.’ A presentation put on for others to exhibit your merits. It is all about what you show to the outside. In the business world, this means lavish events to show your company’s success. It is precisely rehearsed, much like a wedding ceremony, and networking is the primary focus of these rituals. The right people need be present.

So back to ‘face’ and collectivist ways of Asia, I attended my first aerobics classes in Singapore last night. The girls can not work out alone either. They come in groups of 3 to 4. Most have the exact same, newest, most expensive ADIDAS shoes advertised in the magazines and they wear hot pants, even the boys. I felt so sorry for one girl whose tampon string was hanging out of her hot pants…that’s when you know your shorts are too short. Classes are taught by metrosexual boys in a Jane Fonda workout that kind of way that felt like cheerleading camp, or working out in the Castro circa 1989.

Nirvana

I am fascinated by the Buddhist religion and one of my goals for the year is to gain a better understanding of the world’s eastern religions. My temporary neighborhood in Chinatown is a good place to start. A new temple just opened, containing a Buddha museum, where I started to learn more about Siddhartha, Buddha’s real name.

Buddha’s mother was impregnated by a six-tusked elephant who wrapped his trunk around her three times before sending Buddha into her womb! What was she smoking? It is probably the same weed that made people believe that Mary was still a virgin after giving birth. Buddha is the enlightened or ‘awakened’ one. There has been more than one Buddha and there will be many more. I think my Uncle Edwin may have been related in some way.

Kelly-san – this is what they call me in Japan.

Now I’ll venture out to visit some temples in Japan along with a Japanese tea ceremony, the Godzilla statue, Imperial Palace, Ginza, and I heard one too many Gwen Stefani songs not to want to venture into Harajuku. I am staying at a traditional Japanese Inn called a Ryokan. I sleep on a tatami mat surrounded by shoji screens and rice paper wall cover. I take forgranted that Singapore is Asia for beginners. Once I left Narita airport, nothing was in English, except for the advertisements. Most people I have encountered do not speak English.

After spending time in a long customs line the train threw me into the middle of Friday rush hour in Tokyo on the subway. I find what works best is to write on a piece of paper where I am going and people point me in the correct direction, or at least I think. I may have walked a few circles. Luckily for me Hattori-san, my ISPE friend, came to find me at my Ryokan and was my translator last night.

Wish me luck…oh, but I eat so many fortune cookies that all I have is luck. Another thing I have learned is that a smile in any culture can go a long way.

Harajuku Girls

Saturday morning – after having one of the best night’s sleep on a tatami mat, I let the Japanese experience continue into the communal bath on the top floor of the Ryokan, overlooking the temple’s pagoda. I was the only one in there at the time. The floor is similar to a sauna with hardwood slats and the bath is made out of wood as well. There is a long, black granite countertop and opening to a small bamboo zen garden. I soaked in the hot mineral water with the sun filtering in the shoji screen.

Set off for a quick walk to the Asakusa Temple, then hightailed the Ginza line into the center of Tokyo. Again, not much is in English and I wandered around the streets a few times in the absolute wrong direction to where I was headed. I was hungry for breakfast and all Japanese eat is fish, fish, sushi. I was hungry for my regular cookie breakfast. Then there in the distance – my savior, Starbucks. Again nothing there was in English, but ‘Soy Chai Tea Latte’ with a smile is international. I could also point to a chocolate donut while drueling profusely, DO-NUT I say all wide-eyed.

Wandered to the Shiodome across from Hama-rikyu Gardens. When my feet began to hurt, I hailed a cab to Okura where I had lunch in a Japanese garden and experienced my first tea ceremony with a (hot) Russian male model and his two friends from the Ukraine. He spoke Japanese and would translate what they were doing in Ukrainian, then English.

After that, I took the subway to Harajuku and walked the streets of trendy teens in their wicked outfits. Everyday is like Halloween night in the Castro here. I was lured into the shopping frenzy and bought some sheik shoes. Metro back to Ginza to find the Godzilla statue, which was disappointedly tiny. A few blocks away is the Imperial Palace and I tried to find FLW’s Imperial Hotel with no luck. By night fall, I was back in Ginza where I ate at a trendy Tokyo café and wandered the electric streets before metroing back to Asakusa. I was so proud of myself for finding my way home.

May 2007

S’pore

This is the first day of the rest of my life. Sunday night SFO International. My first Business Class flight on Singapore Airlines. No waiting in line. My baggage is tagged with priority to be offloaded first. I am escorted to the business lounge where I may enjoy an open bar and a variety of refreshments of my choice overlooking the tarmac. Six other Genentech colleagues join me.

We get our own private boarding gate to enter before departure. I have my own private pod with a reclining leather chair that operates in a multitude of directions to a full horizontal recline. I can’t even figure out how to work the chair or the remote. The personal TV has over 100 stations with movies in English, Chinese, Japanese, French, and probably even Swahili if I look hard enough. There are four beautiful Singaporean women dressed in silk gowns who all call by name.

Not more than an hour in the sky, they are already feeding us (at 2am) on table cloths with real silverware and china. I am sure a terrorist can formulate a weapon out of my fork much easier than that tiny bottle of lotion they made me throw out in security because it was not in a zip lock bag. Waldorf salad, lamb shank, grilled vegetables, dessert, followed by a cheese tray. Everyone gets fuzzy slippers, a real pillow with silk sham and an actual blanket – not the felt paper from economy.

The bathrooms are spotless because the ladies in the silk dresses clean the pee off the floor. I watch no less than seven movies that night and read half of ‘Blink,’ a good book about thinking without thinking. I can do yoga and Pilates in my pod. Transferred planes in Hong Kong at sunrise, but nothing was open yet.

The airport in Singapore is lined with orchids. It is very clean and safe feeling. Our posse from Genentech includes two men over 6’6” and me with the yellow hair. We stand out in the crowd of Asians, especially on the mass transit, which we take into town to the Hotel Intercontinental. The landscape is lush and green. Even the housing projects are Cabrini-clean.

In half an hour we change and are in a taxi to Bovis’ office. The office of our general contractor is very Ikeaesque overlooking the Polo fields. I rapidly realize there are not many women in construction here. I am the only girl in the boardroom, and I’m at least ten years younger than everyone. There are two expats from Ireland working for an Australian construction company in Singapore. As we review the estimates, I am trying to do the exchange rates between SNG$, US$, Australian $ and sometimes even the Euro. All measurements are in meters. I know they are speaking English, but don’t understand words like ‘fly-tipping’ and ‘lorries.’ One guy on the team is named Kee Shin Keong – which sounds like Cheech and Chong whenever they say his name. I’m not the only one in the room smirking each time.

Our project is an Ecoli plant to manufacture one of our breakthrough drugs, Lucentis. Lucentis is made from a human antibody fragment and works by keeping new blood vessels from forming under the retina. People with a certain type of eye disease, new blood vessels grow under the retina where they leak blood and fluid. This is known as the "wet form" of macular degeneration. Lucentis is used to treat the wet form of age-related macular degeneration to prevent blindness.

We try to force ourselves to stay up until 10pm, so after the meetings, our Genentech team went to Newton’s Circus where there is a large open patio surrounded by street vendors. We got a little taste of everything to wash down our giant Tiger beers. Little Asian men are flashing us with fake Rolexes taped to their chest and Raybans down their pants.

2:45 pm Monday our time/5:45am Tuesday their time, I make it down to the gym. We are two degrees from the equator and it is pitch dark until 7am. Today’s meetings went for 12 hours! I was fighting to keep my eyes open and not trying not to puke as the waves of nausea came and went. Luckily we got out of the office for fresh air and to visit the site. As I roam in my OSHA approved open toed sandals, I am warned to watch out for Cobras and Black Mambas in the brush. This threat is balanced off by the fact that they have monkeys in the trees.

Driving back to the office, we pass what they call Bubble Gum Jail – where they sentence you to if you are caught chewing gum, which is illegal in Singapore. It is actually a Chinese prison.

Countess Keen

So when I signed up for my Singapore Air online, the information sheet has a list of prefixes containing Mr., Ms., Mrs., Miss, Dr., Professor…and if you scroll down far enough you will get to Baron, Count, Countess…hey countess, I know how to count, I can be a countess! So for kicks, I entered Countess. Now all my confirmations come addressed to Countess Kelly Keen and they even address me in flight with Countess Keen. My brother says they put one too many “o’s” in the word for me.

Kava & Kiwis

This is an update from a trip to Fiji & New Zealand a year ago - gathered from emails sent to friends.
BULA!

Imagine a world where everyone looks like Shirley from 'What's Happening.' That would be Fiji. I am 3 hours behind, but a day ahead most of you and will be one of the first to experience the New Year - just behind the International Dateline! I'm also having serious afro envy.

I thought my hostel was on the beach, but instead has 'beach access'...20 minutes down the road! So I set out on foot to find it with kids passing me by playing football in the road and all the cars yelling BULA out to me. At least the walk was beautiful through the sugar cane fields and under the landing planes. A young guy approached me and asked where I was headed. When I told him my plans to attend the beachfront, he laughed and told me I can't go there alone because it is full of drunk guys. He offered to be my chaperone. He looked harmless so I allowed him to accompany me. I couldn't pronounce his name so I called him 'Joe.'

He showed me the 'sleeping giant' in the mountain and explained how time are hard for the Fijians right now since the political upheaval has scared all the tourists away. Sure enough, when we got to the beach, it was full of drunken Fijians, naked kids and pot dealers. Not the luxury retreat I was hoping for. They were yelling things to us in Fijian, which I know was making Joe uncomfortable.

I needed to find an ATM, so Joe told me where the main town was and again offered to accompany me for getting a Fijian fare on the taxi rather than tourist prices. It was kind of cool having my own private tour guide and all I had to do was buy him cigarettes. He showed me an Indian temple and then took me for a unique experience in a local bar, playing the Fijian drinking game, BULA. Fijian beer bottles are about 1l. Everyone shares a glass and you yell BULA and clap you hands 3 times before drinking your shot of beer. I was the only white person in the bar and got to join in on all the reindeer games. I don’t even think Joe was old enough to drink in the States.

Next we went to a Kava ceremony with Moses where I got to be the Queen, but that only means they wanted me to buy a $300 kava bowl. So I was drunk by 3pm, on a kava high and Joe wanted me to go back to the beach with him to watch the sunset and try some more Fijian traditions. That is where I departed back to the hostel, before I ended up in Fijian jail.

The backpacker's hostel has many international travelers and the bar livened
up in the evening with a live band. I met a group of Australians who I drank with most the night. One guy was a contractor on the island for large resorts and the Australian company was pulling him out and ending all of their projects here based on the current political situation and lack of money in Fiji. It was interesting finding out that construction workers here are bribed with Kava to work harder. Everyone is on island time.

So I awoke at sunrise to run on the beach and hopefully beat all the drunk guys out of bed. It was a beautiful morning and I only saw one other person until about 8am. When the Fijians started waking up and coming to the beach, the strangest thing happened. Six dogs came out of the palm forest and ran with me. One had rabies and scared me to death because he was foaming at the mouth and attacking the other dogs. These dogs walked and ran with me for about an hour and barked at anyone who came near me.

I had my own security guards and even gave them names that they responded to.
Homey was foaming from the mouth, one puppy had a broken leg and he was 'Peggy' short for peg leg, the albino was 'whitey' just like me, ‘Beagley-Beagley,’ loud mouth (who wouldn't stop barking) and ‘Nipples’ – who must had just had puppies. They accompanied me all the way back to the hostel safely.


So NYE in Nadi was a blast. The hostel had a huge party with fire dancers and live band and we took part with the locals in a traditional feast where they dig an underground BBQ and roast pigs, chicken and anything else on the island you can possibly BBQ. It is sort of similar to a Lua. I brought in the New Year with the bunch of Australians from the night before, Canadians, 4 girls from Denmark, a few people from Holland and the Fijian staff & their friends. I learned a new dance, of course called the BULA.

The next morning I taxied with the Canadians to the airport. You know the
flight is going to be an experience when they make you step on the luggage
scale to weigh yourself before boarding. It was neat seeing the islands
from the air, but a little bumpy.

Flying into Savu Savu reminded me of the plane coming into Fantasy Island.
It is a short tarmac on the ocean with a hut. Airport security is a fence.

Then I traveled 36 kilometers on a dirt road though little villages to where
the Tui Tai was anchored. The children all yell BULA as I pass by and want
to slap my hand as I board a raft to the sailing ship. All together there
were about 20 passengers on board and 19 Fijian crew members. Most of us
were 30-something, but there where a few older adventurous couples who
reminded me of Carl's parents and always set off on unusual trips. (In fact
Carl, one couple was named Charles & Susan!-his parents names). There was
an Indian couple on board from LA, a girl from Rome and her husband from
Scotland and a family from Colorado with 2 high school-aged kids. Later
that afternoon, 5 more Californians boarded- 3 from SF.

We snorkeled in the morning, sea kayaked in the afternoon and that evening,
while eating dinner, dolphins swam along side of the boat. Not a bad way to
start 2007. One day we hiked a volcanic crater to the rim and SCUBA'd in
the afternoon. There were fruit bats and goats living on the crater.

The next 5 days were much the same - SCUBA diving in the mornings,
stretching on the bow, mountain biking the islands in the afternoon through
little towns and even made it to the International Dateline on one ride. I
got to stand in today and yesterday at the same time!

In the evenings we would have dinner on the boat or visit coastal villages
and end the night with the crew playing their guitars and drinking kava,
looking out at the full moon. The children in the villages are great. They
are so full of energy and they love the glow bracelets that Samantha gave me
for xmas! One night I was the town babysitter giving airplane rides and
playing tag with the little ones.

Yesterday, for our final farewell, we had another traditional Fijian BBQ on
a secluded beach and sea kayaked in the bay before returning back to the
boat for a talent show.

Today, I will stay in a village near Savu Savu with a family and return to
Nadi tomorrow afternoon for a day, before leaving for New Zealand.

Having a great time - and no need to worry Mom & Dad - it is very safe here
and the people are wonderful. I have now introduced pig yatzee and pilates
to the islands.

Still in Fiji - back from the Jungle! In Savu Savu one would think they
were in Calcutta by the Indian population. Bollywood music and the smell of
curry emits into the streets. Linga picked me up there at about 3pm as we
headed to his Aunt's village. Unfortunately one can not call ahead when
bringing visitors and when we arrived, the town was in mourning for a
funeral of a 3 year old girl who died. Not a good time to entertain house
guests. Linga's cousin, Meli had the idea to take me to the jungle to visit
his family's remote house.

Now why would I embark into the jungle with strangers? Linga was one of the
local hospitality reps on the sail boat and became my friend during the
week. He led me on some of the most fantastic mountain biking trails on the
remote islands of Fiji. Even though he is one of the scariest-looking
people I've ever met (kind of of a mix between the mom on Good Times and a
flying monkey) - he has a good heart and is gay. I don't have to worry
about him hitting on me. In addition, he has been the personal escort of
Michelle Phiffer, Xena, and the new princess of Monaco, so I was in good
hands.

Another 1 1/2 through the rain forest in a torrential downpour, the taxi
gets stuck in the mud and we have to push it out. We stop at a village
along the way to pick up gifts for the family. We drove up a mountain road
to the power station that supplies electricity to the island - Meli's dad
watches the site. We pull up to a long house which Meli says houses 16
people & he informs me that they have never seen a white person before!

8 children came running towards me as I exited the cab. I gave them a big
BULA and they giggled at how different I was from them. I could feel once
little girl trying to jump up behind me to touch my hair, so I took it out
of the braid to feel it and instantly I had 80 dirty little fingers in my
hair.

We went into the living room and sat on a giant mat. I quickly realized
that I had more stuff in my luggage then they had in their whole house. The
children were asking me questions about California - they all spoke English.
They wanted to know if I knew movie stars? Am I married? Where are my
kids? Do you want to bath with us? I was hoping the last was a mix up of
words, which it was - they wanted me to see their pool.

I followed them into the jungle to the power station, then up over 500 steps
(and you thought my house was bad!) to the turbines and a 2 story concrete
reservoir they call their 'pool.' My parents would never let me play at the
electric company - or run with a machete, which the oldest boy led us with
to get us through the forest.

After sunset we returned to the house where I presented them with gifts from
me and other people on the boat - band-aids, children's Tylenol, and kids
books which I read them that night. I got a break from babysitting to have
Kava with the men of the family- the women don't drink because they cook,
Linga says. Later we had a feast sitting on a mat - curry chicken,
vegetables and tarot followed by a fruit salad.

I spent the evening talking with the family and showing them pictures on my
ipod. Then gave the kids the rest of the glow bracelets - which made their
lifetimes. The two oldest girls slept in the room with me for a 'sleep over
party' and the rest of them where sprawled across the living room mat, like
the Tate murder scene. It was good I gave them glow bracelets or I would
have stepped on them when I walked out to the bathroom at night.

The children awoke me early to go back up to the power station - this time I
had to take pictures. We stopped on a platform where I taught them
kick-boxing moves, and then we headed for a river. Breakfast again was on a mat
with crepes and banana jam. After breakfast we returned to the river to
wash up and put our church clothes on.

Church was fun, but I had serious flashbacks to the Jonestown Documentary I
saw recently. No Kool-Aid for me thanks. They sing and dance and on the way
to church, I taught them a song I learned in CCD (Joy, joy, joy, joy...) I
was sad to leave them when my taxi arrived to take me back to the airport.
They followed me out of town to say good-bye!

One day in Nadi again and I leave tomorrow for New Zealand. I have been
eaten alive by mosquitoes - even on my eyelids. I'm off my adventure sail safe and sound, back on solid ground and I am still swaying. Either the room is moving or the morning Kava is kicking in.

Kiwis

So far New Zealand looks like California with less people, more sheep. Auckland seemed like a mix between SF and London & it was raining cats and kiwis when I arrived on Tuesday. I quickly booked a backpacker's trip to blow out to see the North Island.

I was picked up by the 'Stray' bus by 8am the next morning, led by Liam, the crocodile hunter's skinny replica. Liam is our bus driver & kiwi tour guide for the week. He either has ADD or a serious case of scatter-brain. He hit his head twice on the TV, drove us in circles around downtown Aukland for an hour, almost hit another bus trying to reverse uphill, then thought the bus had a 6th gear, which it obviously did not have as we slammed forward as the motor surged into 3rd gear. This is where he admits that he has never driven the bus before. He is literally crazy. Made us hug trees and talks of monsters living under bridges and in the mountains.

So I am on a bus with twenty 20-30 yr old European kids - Ireland, England, Czech, German, Dutch - no Australians are allowed on the bus because Liam says they steal sheep. We headed south through the Bombay Hills, past Liam's family farm where we had to stop for a pottie break so he could talk to his friend Sandra, then to the Pacific side of NZ to an area very similar to Pt. Reyes called Hahier. There we hiked out to Cathedral Cove and then to the Hot Water beaches where you can did a hole in the sand that fills with boiling water and fills with the surf to balance off the temperature so you can sit in a natural hot tub on the beach.

The next morning, we set off for the Tasman sea to a surfer mecca called Raglean - which looks like a mix between Santa Cruz and Mendicino. We stayed at an old hippy commune that has turned into a surfing retreat for Europeans. The decor and art is very Burning Manesque. Since I do not surf, I rented a mountain bike and climbed up the cliffs above the Tasman Sea for a long ride along the coast and into rolling hills of sheep farms.

Glow Worms

That night, some chefs-turned-surfers made us gormet pizzas before heading off on our sunset hike and glow worm excursion. The glow worms are all over the rocky terrain around the pathways. They look like fiberoptics and use the light they emit to attract bugs before they eat them with their little furry tentacles. The next morning we headed out to Waitomo Caves where I refused to pay $50 to see glow worms again under a Wisconsin Dells-type of walking tour. I hate cheesy tours, along with others on the bus who went to cafes to chill for a while. I told Liam I was setting out to hike for the day. He insisted on showing me a great place that is not so touristy.

The two of us hopped on the tour bus up a hilly one lane road for 33 km (I felt like I was in the song 'take your retards to the zoo' except a retard was taking me to the zoo.) He was right - there were some fantastic hikes with natural bridges and canyons, then we did a second to a huge waterfall. Turns out, Liam is being the bus tour guide-thing on his summer break from law school. I could not imagine this guy in a courtroom someday.

In the afternoon we drove to Rotorura where it is raining again. My hostel has a climbing wall through the middle of it, but I have no belay partner. So I'm playing on hotmail until our group meets up tonight for Sheapard's Pie and a pint of something to put the UK kids at ease with a taste from home. Tomorrow I am scheduled to go 'Zorbing' - It is a giant bubble about 8' high that works something like a hamster ball. They strap you in and roll you down a hill in it. Won't be eating much for breakfast - just in case!

Next we head to Lake Taupo, which sounds like Lake Tahoe, than to Tongariro National Park where I will spend a few days to do the famous Çrossing Hike.

Zorb

Zorbing in Rotorua was the most I have laughed in years. Imagine being sent through a sphincter into an 8 foot diameter double-membrane plastic ball connected by shock absorbers, filling it half way with water and being shot downhill on a zigzag course. This is what it would feel like to be in a washing machine.

As expected, Lake Taupo was the New Zealander’s Lake Tahoe but Tramping in Tongariro National Park was nothing like California! Tongariro houses some extraordinary sites where Lord of the Rings was filmed, including Mt. Doom. The Tongariro Crossing is rated as one of the best tramps NZ has to offer. (BTW Mom and Dad, tramping does not mean I am short on cash and selling myself on the streets. It is the Kiwi’s word for hiking.)

Even though the Tongariro Crossing is one of the most beautiful tramps, it still claims the lives of some 30-40 people a year due to severe weather changes. The morning we set out was storming, but the information center said the pass would be clear by noon, an hour or two before we would actually be summiting. Most backpackers stayed back in Taupo waiting for the weather to improve, but the short-timers in Kiwiland that had to adhere to a rigorous travel schedule were optimistic that we were going to make it – me, 2 Irish girls, a German girl and a Czech boy.

“How many of you have tramped 17km before?” Liam asked us. I was the only one with my hand raised.

“How many of you have tramped 8 hours straight before?” Again I am the only one with my hand raised and the 2 Irish girls are in flat-soled sneakers.

“Okay, Kelly from California is going to make sure you all come back alive from this tramp.” Liam designates me team leader responsible for the 4 others hiking between three active volcanoes (the largest one erupted last in 1996.) I’ve only lost one exchange student in my life and luckily he showed up naked in my yard the next morning, so my odds are good.

So we set out into a desolate landscape with steam rising above the landscape from the rain hitting the thermo-reactive ground that we are walking on. The first hour warm up was steady, then we hit Hell’s Staircase – straight up using arms and legs to pull ourselves up the volcanic rock. The Irish girls complained the entire time – “F!ck this, Fuc# that, F*ck me pink. Bloody god dang mountain, I’m never doing this bloody tramp again. Hell, never going to walk again after this.”

One would think that Hell had frozen over by the temperature and wind chill going up Hell’s staircase. There were times that I was moving with all my force and not going anywhere. It was sleeting on us and every time we peaked something, there was another peak behind it.

Finally at the summit, as promised, the sun emerged and we were looking straight into Red Crater, or Hell, if you will. All that hard work for the most amazing view over the crater, Emerald Lakes and our first vantage point of Mt. Doom.

The next part of the hike only had one strenuous uphill portion then smooth sailing down, as the Irish girls started singing happy pub songs now, past boiling mud pools and thermal vents emitting steam from the earth. The last hour of the hike was through a tropical rainforest.

Our hostel that night was immaculate in the National Park, looking at the 3 volcanoes and it had a Jacuzzi in the middle of the courtyard to soak our muscles. We didn’t waste any time getting to the local pub for hamburgers bigger than we could fit our mouths around.

The next day I woke up and inquired at the desk on where to hire a mountain bike for the day. “Why don’t you take mine – it will probably fit you.” The guy offered up his bike.

“So where are you headed?” he asked.

“I’m going to ride to the ski area at the base of the volcano.”

His eyes widened, “Do you know how far that is?”

“33 km according to the map.” (that’s about 20 miles.)

“Yeah, uphill.”

“I know.”

He kind of smirked and rolled his eyes, probably thinking ‘what is wrong with this crazy chick? She’ll never make it.’

I had a grandiose thought of riding to the base, taking the chairlift partially up the volcano, and hiking the last 1200m to the top. 4 ½ hours later I made it to the ski area, but only one lift was running, to an uninspiring flat, so I ate lunch looking out at Mt. Doom and rode down (only an hour en retour.)

When I returned, the guy was impressed. “Wow, nobody has ever done that from here before.” I paid for it the next day. I could hardly walk, my bootie was so sore. Good thing I would be sitting on a bus all day.

Got back to Auckland in time for rush hour and a stroll through Prince Albert Park. I left at 4:30pm from the airport today and traveled back in time to arrive back at my office 5 hours before I left. The longest day of my life!