I’m currently rocking on the interisland ferry between the south and north island of New Zealand. An older woman carrying a vomit bag was just escorted by four gentleman toward what I’m guessing is the bathroom, or perhaps the backdoor. Meanwhile, Motion Sickness Jenny (i.e. me) is popping gummy worms like Valium in an effort to prevent herself from being the next lady to stumble across the boat with a face the same shade of green as the casino carpeting.
This ferry is huge. It’s carrying hundreds of people and nearly as many cars. There’s a cinema on the second floor, along with a kids playground and a carnival-type activity area where there will be CHILDREN’S face painting—so said the intercom lady—where you can sign up for your CHILDREN to have their faces painted. Okay, we get it! But your system is unfair.
There’s also a cafe and restaurant, a lounge, a gift shop, an i-Site (which is not a sight for sore eyes, but a place where you can make bookings and get information about NZ), and those are only the things I saw on the seventh floor before I planted myself in the corner next to an outlet so I could plug in my computer. It’s a claustrophobic setup, actually. There’s a loveseat with a table in front of it, but an Asian man overtook that. I’m in a small round cushioned chair, bludgeoned between a set of coin-operated lockers and the couch, and another kid with face piercings and headphones is in a chair on the other side of the couch. Beyond our small offshoot of a room, there really is casino-style carpeting that leads to the restaurant/cafe where a live jazz band is playing. And we’re rocking from side to side in that stomach tumbling way that makes me want to die and/or eat gummy candies until I explode.
ANYwho–Sorry I’ve been MIA for a while. I left Queenstown on the 14th, and I was trying to cram as much as I could into my last weeks there. I have SO MUCH to blog about, though, it’s absurd. You’ll have to forgive me when a month from now I’m still blogging about things that happened in New Zealand. I’ll quickly give you a current update.
I’m mid-road trip across the country, with six days to go before I jump on a plane to Bali, and then head home.
Have I mentioned Bali yet?
I came to that decision much like I came to my New Zealand decision: irrationally. It started with everyone around here talking about past or future trips to southeast Asia—evidently that’s the hip thing to do when you’re on this side of the world. It’s beautiful, they say, and cheap, and those words are like fairy dust to me.
Even though it felt impulsive, the actual ticket-buying process was anything but. It involved weeks of consulting friends, family, the Heavens, and at the very end, an online magic eight ball (because I did not have access to a real one). After my third “Ask again later,” I went for it and purchased a ticket. And no, the irony of visiting Bali after basing my blog on Eat, Pray, Love does not escape me—as if that isn’t creepy enough, the fact that I plan to meet her palm-reading friend Ketut will definitely push me over the psycho stalker edge. Don’t worry, though. I haven’t gotten “I am Liz” tattooed on my bicep, or written a song about how much I love her and want to have her babies, but I AM very excited to see what Ketut tells me about my future.
A quick word to the New Zealand traveler: it’s impossible to see the country properly in less than a month’s time. Two months would be ideal. I’m trying to cover both islands in two weeks and I feel like I’m missing everything. There’s so much to do here, from kayaking through serene beaches to tramping across multi-day mountain tracks to sitting in thermal hot pools—I want to visit every café and pizzeria and kebab place, stay in a cute B&B, but because I’m trying to make my money last, I eat canned soup and stay backpackers with seven other people in a room. It is, however, quite an experience (which will constitute another blog someday).
The ferry ride is almost over, and I must look at a map to figure out where I’m sleeping tonight. And in case you’re wondering, the gummy worms prevented motion sickness, but now have me feeling nauseous in a different sort of way.
More traveling stories to come. I’ll try not to drop off the radar for too long.
They Call Me Fushilou 