Some Snaps of Time. Another month with Marlene cruising the north part of the south island.

Warmth in the Night, Arthur’s Pass

A Break from the Rain

Maximum Load: One Person!

Hidden Door

Conductors: Bird Song Orchestra

Cold, Wet, Happy, Triumphant.
Another introduction for those at home.
Name: Sander
Nationality: Belgian
Occupation: Freelance, whatever makes more money to keep traveling
Where we met: Charleston, NZ Tiny town on the West Coast

Pancake Rocks, Punakaiki. Pass the syrup please.

Check out the name tag. Mooooo

Boulders on the Port Hills. Christchurch

I Agree

He just smiled and gave me a (Marmite) sandwich.

Foot Prints and Shimmers. Abel Tasman

Pathway to the Clouds. Abel Tasman

Gather Your Own. Dinner was on Mother Nature that night.

Two different tides meet at French Pass. Marlborough Sounds

Beech Tree Forest

Tint of Yellow

Keeping up with the world…or Not

Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

Traveling around NZ by van(Marlene) was the way to go. There are the buses that run pretty comprehensive routes across the island, but they pack in travelers like sheep, glazed-eyed staring out the window as they pass by a gravel road that looks incredibly inviting. The problem for me is, that road is not on the bus route. Marlene has proved to be a perfect match for me. Capable of tackling some pretty hairy roads we’ve made our way off highways, down gravel, across a couple creeks and onto the pot-holed dirt roads that have recently become more and more muddy. The further down the gravel and dirt I go, the more I think to myself, “This is it. This time I’m getting stuck with no one around to pull me out.” Trudging up hillside dirt roads in first gear at a roaring 10 kph I try and convince myself to turn around, “but the road is not wide enough and if I stop moving I might get stuck. Then I’ll have to back down that whole way!” I think back to the last road, when I didn’t turn around, and how happy I was at the top when I was rewarded with the view over a beech tree forest canopy spanning miles till it disappeared into the ocean.

I’ve spent little time in the towns here. Not the they are unpleasant by any means, they’re dwarfed and lost from thought due to the immense green landscape around them. I’ll make a stop every couple of days for some fresh veggies to accompany my tuna and pasta dinners, get a refill of propane for my cooking stove, and some gas to get me out to the next dirt road.

Describing the landscape is tough. It’s the best parts of the US, the best parts of California, multiplied a couple times, stuffed into a peanut shell and sparsely populated. Just watch Lord of the Rings. Instead of Frodo and Sam running away from Orcs, while Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli give chase, imagine me with my camera and binoculars in either hand, walking towards the birds that don’t fly away. If you were a cruel person you could actually whack some of these birds right from the air as they flutter within arms length of your face, looking at you with as much curiosity as you are looking at them. No binoculars necessary for some of the bird watching here. Mountains are tall and snow capped, trees are extremely abundant, lakes have amazing turquoise blue glacier water, the coast makes me feel as if I’m back on PCH driving though Big Sur, sheep, tons of friendly people, some weird ones too, endless hiking trails, braided rivers, rain forests, fjords, waterfalls, Maoris’ eager and ready to educate you on their native culture. It’s an endless island of mother natures best.

My route so far: (A map might help sort it out)
Beginning in Christchurch
SW to Mt. Hutt area and Mt. Sunday area
S to Peel Forest
Onward S to Timaru, eagerly moved further south
Oamaru, Kakanui, Moeraki Boulders, Shag Point
Back up NW to Elephant Rocks, Lake Aviemore, Lake Tekapo
S to Lake Pukaki, Tasman Glacier, Mt. Cook
SE to Dunedin and Otago Peninsula
S into the Catlins Forest, Curio Bay, the Petrified Forest, Slope Point
Leave Marlene in Bluff and take a ferry further South
Stewart Island, Halfmoon Bay(Oban), Ulva Island
Back onto the mainland
N to Lake Mavora, and Fiordland National Park, Te Anau, Milford Sound
N to Queenstown and surrounding area, Cardrona Pass, Wanaka
Mt. Aspiring National Park, NW to Lake Hawea, Lake Wanaka
NW to the coast from Haast to Tai Poutini National Park
N to Fox and Franz Josef Glaciers
N to Ross, Hokitika and the Hokitika Gorge
E across Arthur’s Pass
Currently in Christchurch, recharging to tackle the Northern Section of the South Island.

Foods:
All the seafood is amazing.
The best fish and chips I’ve ever had
Lamb-fabulous
Paua (abundant relative of our abalone, meat is black instead of white)
Green-lipped mussels, mussel patties
Feijoa, native fruit
Marmite, Kiwi version of Vegimite
Pineapple lumps, a great candy that puts a smile across your cheeks
Some traditional Maori eats…
Kina (sea urchin) straight from the ocean, sweet and creamy
Muttonbird (Sooty Shearwater) cooked in stew whole, pulled out and de-boned, very pungent smell and taste, fatty and oily, not my favorite but enjoyable

Bird favorites:
Kiwi (vocals only, no visual…yet)
Blue Penguins
Yellow-eyed Penguins
Royal Albatross
White-capped Mollyhawk (albatross)
Petrels
Royal Spoonbill
Australian Harrier
NZ Falcon
Weka
Pukeko
Spur-winged Plover
Wood Pigeon
Kaka
Kea
Red-crowned Parakeet
Kingfisher
Saddleback
Fantail
Tui
Bellbird
Tomtit
Australian Magpie…and many more

I never realized that a whole country could be one giant campground!!!  I’m serious, no joking here.  Square mileage of NZ isn’t too much smaller than CA: 103,738 to 163,696 sq miles.  The population here is just about 4 million with 3/4 of it on the north island.  To put that in perspective, there’s 36.5 million in California.  Unlike home, the Kiwi’s aren’t over developing every piece of gorgeous land with cookie cutter homes and strip malls.   Camping is free almost everywhere on the island and it’s extremely common to just pull off the road next to a river or stream and set up camp.

With this sort of camping in mind I didn’t want to be on a bus/train, anything tourist schedule. The other day I purchased a 1989 toyota Lite Ace.  It looks like a quart of milk tipped onto four wheels with a motor in it.  The back is gutted and has a bed raised a couple feet on a wood frame with storage space underneath. This is the ultimate camping van, about 2/3 the size of my bus, maybe a bit smaller actually.

Tomorrow I’m off for the lovely green of New Zealand…sadly waving goodbye to my friends, though we’ve already made plans to meet up in a couple weekends.

-Riley’s theme song during our trip.-
Look at earth from outer space
Everyone must find the place
Give me time and give me space
Give me real, don’t give me fake

Give me strength, reserve control
Give me heart and give me soul
Give me time give us a kiss
And tell me your own Politik

Open up your eyes

Give me one, ‘cos one is best
In confusion, confidence
Give me piece of mind and trust
And don’t forget the rest of us
Give me strength, reserve control
Give me heart and give me soul
Wounds that heal and cracks that fix
Tell me your own politik

Open up your eyes
Just open up your eyes

But give me love over,
Love over, love over this,
But give me love over,
Love over, love over this.
“Politik by Coldplay”

A story to be continued…

The next day we got lost several times within being lost already trying to find Tuw’s studio. After a bit of frustration we eventually found it. If you’re ever in Thailand this is a tip to remember. It doesn’t take long to figure out that most Thais don’t know directions at all. If you ask for some, they’ll tell you how to get to your destination even if they don’t know where it is. It runs in their nature to not say no. So bad directions are common apposed to a simple “I don’t know.” It’s wise to ask 3 or more people and combine the ones that go relatively the same direction. Then ask along the way again. The closer you get, the better people know their five-block radius. We walked into Tuw’s studio and took a seat. He offered us tea as soon as our shoes came off. Conversation. Tuw is an extremely nice and personable guy. We looked at his art, talked about his inspirations, his artistic techniques (which he didn’t mind sharing) and enjoyed the tea. The next day we returned to the studio for portraits.

After lunch/dinner with Tuw, we visited a paper store where Riley was unable to contain himself. All handmade paper of amazing quality, different colors, different sizes and so cheap it was impossible not to get any. If someone didn’t know what kind of store we were walking out of they may have guessed it was a rug shop. The bundle over Riley’s shoulder was the same dimensions as a rolled up rug, only it was paper. Meeting Tuw and finding this paper shop inspired an artistic burst within us both and most of our evenings were spent drawing and painting on the patio of our hostel. It was a mellow few days of keeping out of the heat, but keeping busy.

A link to some of Tuw’s work http://www.lalunagallery.com/artist_chumpol_taksapornchai.asp

North on the superhighway out of Chiang Rai lies a windy mountain road that runs into Myanmar. Military check points become more frequent the closer the border becomes. The air is cold today, the further from Chiang Rai we go, the colder it becomes. It splits through the fabric of our jackets and paints our knuckles white and blue. After an hour Riley has had enough and we switch driver and passenger. It is much colder as the driver. No windbreak, but my fleece is a bit thicker. The hills line either side of the road as we ride through high altitude valleys. A hot spring. We stop and rest. The springs are more of trash can size holes in the ground with hot water bubbling up. Faint smell of sulfur. A mother and three children squat next to one of the springs boiling eggs in the steaming water. We climb, doubled up, back on our scooter and zoom off. Our engine lets out it’s high pitch roar as we pass a loaded down truck. The roads become windier, steeper, and narrower. Vegetation is thick and green here. Another hour passes. We’re riding through the clouds. The air is moist and cold. We’re riding above the clouds. It’s warmed up some, the sun hitting our hidden faces. Another stop. It’s beautiful. Rolling hill tops with a hazy background. We walk around. There’s crops that have been harvested up here, what they are we do not know. Some slash and burn areas and tilled dirt. Back on the scooters. We’re pushing the 100cc’s in first gear up a steep road. It roars in excitement, so do we! Some time later we end up in a small mountain town that has founded itself off tea. A random tourist stop with not too many tourists. Lunch. End up in a tea stall sampling many different types. Saffron tea. We purchase some, along with some others. Goat jerky. I get some. Back on the scooters braving some even windier roads. A tea plantation. Rows of tea plants that share the appearance of a vineyard covering a hillside. Downshifting our scooter grumbles to a stop. We get off and walk around the rows. The plants are knee to thigh high, a couple feet wide with green leaves. The road again. We hit pockets of warm air as we pass under canopies that form a tunnel. The sun is starting to drop. Highland rice patties butting up to the base of mountains. A small river runs between them and our road. We walk the mud beams for a while, stretch our knees and soak it in. It’s a long haul back to Chiang Rai. We arrive as the last light flees from the sky. The evening food market is as busy as an ant mound. We weave our scooter through the crowd. Stop at this stall, Riley hops off and grabs some fish. I keep the motor going, he hops back on. We stop at that stall, he grabs some fresh squeezed orange juice, mouth watering. A couple stalls more, we have a salad, chicken, some strange bread thing cooked in a pressure cooker with pasta sauce topped with veggies and pineapple. Dinner. We stop and get some beer as well. The beer here isn’t really beer. It’s a watered down, bad tasting version of what we call beer. (You might not share my opinion if you like Bud Light, Natural Ice or Milwaukee’s Best. Those who know Riley and I are quite aware that we’re a tad snobbish when it comes to beer, wine and the culinary realm.) Back at our hostel we unroll a couple banana leaves on the floor that we use as plates. We sit cross-legged on either side of the leaves with a wooden skewer in hand as our utensil. Our food is strategically placed on the leaves so we don’t have to cross skewers to stab bites. It’s all fresh and cooked exactly how anyone would want it. Full of flavor and moisture. Over 100 miles on a scooter followed by a great dinner. We sit on our balcony and watch the activity in the small neon lit street behind us. Time to take a breath, what a day.

Heading north from Chiang Rai we hopped on the A1 superhighway with no particular place in mind. A turn off the highway took us west towards the hills and mountains on this particular day. We slowly made our way down some dirt roads. Soon we found ourselves surrounded. We couldn’t believe it. None of us knew where they had all come from, but they were there. Pineapples! Everywhere we looked. Just a few moments ago we had been heading towards a large bamboo stand on a hillside. The colorful fruit bushes put off a vibrant red in the afternoon sun that resembled the sunset of the previous evening. In the middle of these groves were scattered trees that the rows of fruit swerved their way round.

After the pineapples, we were on our way again. Random turns, some smiling locals standing by the roadside. We wave hello. Stop at a small roadside stall to grab some water and shade for 15 minutes. Which is also a way to rest out butts. Scooters are nothing like cruisers and the more miles you put on them, the more you feel it. We were now roaming down small roads with rice patties on either side. Find some shade to park the scooters under and go for a walk. The raised mud walkways between the tiers of the patties are thin and sometimes unstable. Walking on balance beams of mud we take some photos and try not to go for a dip in the rice water shallows. The surrounding hills and sky are reflected from the water. Small tips of green rice plant poke out of the water forming a small pattern in the reflections.

Mid afternoon, the weather has cooled to a comfortable temperature, we’re hiking. At the end of our trail is a small waterfall. We sit on the rocks, no one talking. It’s one of those places that is nice to sit and listen. A small breeze, the sound of the falls, birds talking to one another and singing their songs, trees rustling. Relaxation. Stefan goes for a dip in a swimming hole as my stomach begins to grumble.

A couple kilometers from the entrance to the hiking trail was a small hill tribe village named Jalae. We all thought that might be a good place to grab a late lunch. Slowly, we rode into the village, scanning for a hut or longhouse that looked like they might be selling some rice or noodles. A little something to hold us over before we make our way back to Chiang Rai. We asked a younger lady and motioned a spoon eating from bowl. Her name was Metae, she spoke a little English and brought us back to her mothers house. Soon we found ourselves sitting on the patio of a longhouse. An old woman inside frying something in a large wok over coals. Smells of good food and smoke seeped from inside the house. We were served a small amount of Thai whiskey to start, followed by a bowl of rice and fried pork. Within half hour the whole family is joining us in our meal on the patio. Our simple lunch turned into a couple hours of conversing. One of the brothers had studied English at the university in Chiang Rai and spoke it quite well. When the sun started to drop we said our goodbyes and asked how much lunch was. To our surprise, Gao told us not to worry about the food, it was his pleasure to have us and we were invited to come and stay with them the next day. It was their New Years and there was going to be a large celebration with food and dancing. “See you tomorrow.”

An introduction to the family:
Tribe: La Hu
Village: Jalae
Mom: Nacu
Brother: Gao
Sister: Metae
Some friends: Jawa and Jaba

We arrived to Jalae the next afternoon and the celebration was in full swing on Nacu’s patio. It was packed full of people, around 15, I was surprised it didn’t collapse. As we pulled up on our scooters Gao came to greet us and showed us to a room in the longhouse that had been prepared for us. A small makeshift mattress with 3 blankets and pillows. We quickly dropped our bags and joined the party on the patio. Stefan went to his scooter to get the beer we had brought as Riley got his 35mm ready. We’ve learned, internationally, that beer is a welcomed gift among men. Amongst the many on the patio were the Village leader, the community leader (7 villages make up their community) and the leader from the neighboring tribe of the Ah Ka.

Food was plentiful, especially pork. Most families that could afford to do so had just slaughtered a pig for the New Year. Traditionally the people of these villages practice animism, which is the belief that all things such as animals, plants, geographic object and some inanimate objects have souls (Similar to that of American Indians). Christianity is present and a percentage (don’t know the number) of the villagers are converts, though they still partake in the traditional ceremonies. Back to the food: Fried pork, stir fry pork with veggies, pork soup, spicy pork, chicken stir fry, chicken lime soup, rice, amazing little cookies with fruit between them, spicy papaya salad with glass noodles, this fried rice goop that’s made by boiling rice, mushing it together and letting it cure, then cooking it when you want to eat it.

We ate the rest of the day, nonstop, whether we wanted to or not. When we were done at Nacu’s house, Gao took us to his friend Jaba’s house. There we ate more food, mostly the same dishes with some fish thrown in the mix. “Jai lai!” was the phrase of the night. Every time it was said glasses were raised and we figured out quickly that small sips were the way to handle the hundreds of La Hu cheers we were receiving. After the sun went down the dancing started. In the middle of the village center was a tall construct of bamboo with colorful prayer flags waving off of it. During the day there had been a pig head hanging in the middle, which was now gone, I don’t know where or why. The dances took place in circles around this. Drums were beat and flutes sang as people danced around. I quickly found myself playing a drum and keeping in step with the locals to their entertainment. Every time one dance stopped a new beat started on the drum and there was a more intricate dance step to learn. Riley stood close alongside his camera as he took night exposures, while Stefan tried his hand in the dancing and soon fell out as the steps picked up. Sleep came soon for us. Most likely a result of the long ride to the village, constant eating, dancing and “Jai lai.” Riley, Stefan and I headed back to Nacu’s house where we made ourselves comfortable on the makeshift mattress in the 10ftx10ft room. Before falling asleep we all agreed we had just eaten more than we do on an average Thanksgiving and Christmas combined!

We were woke early in the morning by the sounds of roosters, snarling pigs, howling dogs and who else knows what. We had coffee, cookies and oranges for breakfast. Nacu made the coffee in a kettle that was covered black in charcoal soot. I’m not normally a coffee drinker, but the coffee that morning was extra special. Warm and welcoming. After we were done with breakfast Nacu went inside and came out with some traditional La Hu clothing in which she had us don and we all took pictures together. Before we left she told Gao to let us know that anytime we were in Thailand we had a place to stay.

Mosquito Hunting

Want some?

If you know what type of bug this is, please let me know.

Wow! Tastes like pear.

The balcony view of the alley behind our guesthouse overlooks a dirty Red-light/ Go-Go strip with a dozen or so neon bars and a handful of street-side ones. There are also a few lady-boy bars, but I haven’t had the desire to venture into any of those fine, well kept establishments. A quiet stroll through this neighborhood is only possible in theory, not actually in practice. Girls materialize from behind curtains, jump out of creaky folding chairs, call from bar stools, or in many cases block your passage and pull you in the direction of their bar.

People of every variety congregate in this little ghetto where I currently reside. Most of the patrons are older western men between the ages of 40 and 60, and there are also many old Thai men that cling to the shadows as they stroll the neighborhood.

In honor of Valentines day and having nothing better to do, Dano and I ventured to one of the street-side bars I had been photographing the previous night. The bar is at the end of the street opposite our Guesthouse and instead of heading directly down the alley (which is a much shorter distance) we walked all the way around the front to approach from the outside. We make our way to two open bar stools and order a beer. To my immediate left is a western male who had to be at least 70. He is hovering over the Thai girl, no older than 20. Their interaction is silent and from any perspective she doesn’t appear to be enjoying herself (can’t blame her).

Bar stools find visitors as the evening progresses, and some of the patrons periodically disappear down the alley with one of the girls. Valentine’s Day has attracted at least double the visitors of any of the previous nights this week. None of the girls seem to know what the Hallmark holiday is, nor was there any real interest in learning (not that I think the holiday is even worth dignifying by teaching other people about it). Most of the the older gentlemen surrounding Dano and I all have a reserved look that doesn’t welcome conversation. However, there are a few gentlemen that speak enough Thai to get by in conversation, and by the familiarity between the girls and them it’s apparent they are not first-time visitors.

Patrons and working girls alike disregard our presence, or at the bare minimum view us as seat fillers. It only took them a few moments to realize that we’re not going to purchase any of their “time,” so we were left alone.

Name: Anatoli (a.k.a. Tolya)
Nationality: Russian
Occupation: Professor of Psychology
Place residing: Dubai, U.A.E.
Where we met: Siem Reap, Cambodia

Name: Stefan (a.k.a. “The Premium”)
Nationality: Finnish (Actually a Swedish Finn)
Occupation: Fine Dining
Place residing: Helsinki, Finland
Where we met: Cat Ba, Vietnam