Gorilla Camping

Behold a gorilla campsite:

Mitch the rental car and our white tent and yellow rain fly in the background. The paddock to behind the fence was the source for the cattle-like smell.

For those not yet introduced to the concept, gorilla camping entails driving to a secluded spot in any country in the world, setting up camp, and staying the night. Now the car you see pictured here is most certainly not Adi, because she was out of commission for the weekend, and Lance the mechanic, was benevolent enough to provide us with a rental car, for no extra charge, no extra papers to sign, essentially no questions asked, and off we went to continue on our holiday! It was truly amazing! However after an amazing first couple of days with a wonderful Couchsurfing host named Debbie in a place called Titirangi, outside Auckland, we at this point had no place to stay.

“Where should we go?” seemed to be the question on everyone’s lips. Though dinner was taken care of, as we had eaten in the car, and after we passed some potential spots at a golf course, and some other just off the motorway 5 star destinations, we settled on heading toward signs for a motorbike course and a national forest. Finding nothing, we turned on to a spot with a small A-frame shed with no door, and an unenclosed triangle of land on the edge of a farming paddock, which seemed to be a place for cattle, as the smell prevailed in the night air. Undaunted, we pulled out the tent and Mike and I laid down in it, and then Dan and Carrie prepared to sleep sitting up in our rental car, lovingly nicknamed “Mitch.” It did not take long and we were out. The morning however brought many surprises.

Mike breaks camp, and Carrie’s waking leg in the foreground

The morning sun in New Zealand is quite strong, and easily permeates and warms the fabric of our tent. Thus the morning dew led to a damp and yet humid awakening to the sounds of heavy construction equipment and men’s cries. Somewhat puzzled, I rolled over a few times to catch the last bit of sleep before I would allow the morning to begin in earnest. When I finally did decide to leave the tent, I was a bit surprised to find what I saw….

We were in fact across the road from the edge of a massive stone quarry, wherein multiple workers were making their way in massive dump trucks, and backhoes could be heard working at the earth below. On our side of the road, we found that the fence indeed enclosed a paddock, but we never saw the cows for which an odor gave ample evidence.

Road on which we camped: quarry to the left, our camp and cattle paddock to the right.

As I emerged from the tent, I heard one of the workers yell down,
“Put a shirt on,” and from that point I was certain that one of them would eventually make their way down to “evict” us from our gorilla campsite. However, no one ever came, and so I woke the others. We made tea, literally on the side of the road, prepared peanut butter and banana sandwiches (I have happily found that everyone enjoys this combination), and broke camp.

Morning and camp have broken

Throughout our morning duties, two workers did make their way down toward and past us, and both times offered a friendly wave. Stunned, I realized that we had just camped for free in a place we had none of us ever been before, in a country to which we were newly arrived, and we were now receiving friendly greetings from the people that worked in that area. Absolutely amazing, and the rest of the trip has only proven to further and amplify this compliment.

Adelaide

Front view of Addie including old Mazda logo

Rear view including license plate

Front interior, photo taken of course from the left, passenger’s side of the vehicle
Back seats including pillow and my reflection

Back of the station wagon including yellow-bagged tent, red curtains contrived from sheets

So to many, this would merely be the name of another town in Australia, however to us in the beautiful land of New Zealand, it has taken on a whole new significance. “Adi” or “Addie” has become the nickname of a 1994 Mazda Capella 626 station wagon, that has so far carried us safely down from the northern island NZ metropolis of Auckland, to Wellington and within striking distance of the south island.

Carrie and Dan with the title to Addie shortly after our sealing the deal

The story began upon our arrival to NZ via our various methods on 4-Jan-2011. Dan and I got in at around 5am, jet-lagged and more than a bit exhausted from our sporadic sleep over the course of the 4-hour flight. We survived though, stumbled through customs, where we had to resort to displaying our Australian working holiday visas to the customs agent in order to prove that we would someday again leave New Zealand. It wasn’t until long after we left the airport terminal that I now understand the overwhelming desire never to leave this country.

Nonetheless, at around 6am we came out into the baggage claim and transport area with no place to go, no place to stay, and no plan. But there was internet! Free SAMSUNG computer terminals that provided free internet access to anyone willing to stand and type. Within minutes I pulled up a place by the name of the Skyway Lodge, made a toll-free phone call from the first pay phone I had used in years, and Scott came and carted us to his hostel, where we stayed for a mere $30/night. Beautiful it was!

Dan slept and I skyped. Then, after a swim, hot tub, read of the Lord of the Rings, I could not resist and laid down as well. 2 hours later I awoke to my brother’s pillow flying at my head, and the realization that we were one hour late to pick up Carrie at the airport! We rushed, and were able to get Scott the hostel owner to take us the 15 minute ride, and we found Carrie patiently seated amongst luggage and anxious tourists. So with a hug I swept her up and off her feet, and the Rudzinski-Malone journey had begun!

The rest of the afternoon-evening included some fresh strawberries and ice cream, the sharing of great stories, and some comical pics! Ultimately we ended up back in our room, three of us on a twin-sized bed, perusing the Aussie/kiwi digital classified on gumtree.com. We had acquired everything in Oz using the site, and so figured that it would work well for NZ as well. As it turned out, there was a car advertised that happened to be located on the same street as the hostel. Incredulous as we were, we became even more so when the owner Mohammed agreed to come pick us up in 20 minutes. When he arrived with the car and we took it for a spin, we immediately became obsessed with the possibility of picking Mike up from the airport at midnight that night in our own car. So we did it!

Tim takes the wheel for the first time!

We ran to the ATM and between the three of us gathered up the necessary capital to make our first investment in NZ, and to make the first ever car purchase for Dan and Carrie! It was amazing! And after a series of discussions on the topic, we settled on the name Adelaide or “Adi” and “Addie” for short. We love her, and she has taken very good care of us up to this point. But not of course without a few snafus, as can be expected with a car that is 17 years old. Oh and we didn’t end up picking up Mike from the airport either. As with most things, this trip has turned out in many different ways that we never could have expected…

Mike loads Addie from the back – day after we bought her

A day in Auckland and two nights at Debbie’s

Below: The Sky Tower in the Auckland CBD (Central Business District)

The day after Mike and Carrie arrived was a Wednesday, and energy was at an all-time high. We took Addie from the hostel raced through the streets of Auckland, running errands such as a dropping Mike at a medical checkup and chest X-ray so he could obtain an Australian visa, and acquiring a kiwi mobile phone, and a variety of other necessary accessories. We also located the state library where we could access free internet, and passed through a couple of other shops containing camera equipment and other things we needed.

However upon our settling into our parking spot, we discovered that Addie was leaking some fluid onto the street, and were immediately drawn to the issue that the fluid in the coolant reservoir was boiling over. We would later learn that the coolant was non-existent, and the car had been cooling itself on water supplied at an irregular basis by the previous owner, and that the radiator was in fact blocked. Comfortable as I am with old car issues, we rapidly sought a mechanic, but when we changed money learned that the mechanic was in fact on a “bad side of town.”

Mike and Daniel wait patiently as Carrie and I change money at Westpac Bank in the Auckland CBD

The teller was kind enough to recommend a different place, but as it turned out we found Lance at a place called Mt. Albert Automotive after we dropped Mike for the X-ray at a clinic nearby. In the end we had to return the following day, since it was already too late to start working on that Thursday. So we instead armed ourselves with plenty of water and made our way to a nearby Western Springs Park where we enjoyed an afternoon of fruit and spontaneity. The former purchased from Mr. Fruitee (one of several fruit vendors that pop up along the highways throughout the country, and the latter consisting of Daniel trying to eat melted gummi peach rings, Mike photographing everything and tripping as he chased empty garbage bags, Carrie frolicking in the grass, and myself doing cartwheels. The weather was beautiful and it was truly a splendid way to spend the afternoon, apart from the sounds of the speedway style racetrack just across the lake.

Mike frolics in the grass at Western Springs Park northwest of Auckland CBD

That night we headed in to the city, made a stop at the State Library to confirm the location, and then proceeded to a Couchsurfing meeting taking place at a local bar. Once there, we acquired more water from a gas station for Addie, and then continued on to meet Mexicans, Spaniards, Frenchies, Israelis, Indians, Germans, another American, and what have you, as we made our way through the crowd throughout the night, hoping against hope we would find someone to take us in.

And find we did: by chance. Debbie happened upon Mike and after some light small talk, he asked whether she hosted, and then whether she would be willing to take all four of us in. After a moment she agreed. She wants to be a fairy; she has lead a storied life, and now lives in a beautiful A-frame style home attached to neighbors of a similar caliber and interest. Once at her place she provided us with everything we could ever have hoped for, and when we had to turn in our car on Friday morning she even drove us out to take care of our errands. We all had a very good time, but she was truly a Godsend to us in every sense of the word. We are so grateful for her! She even agreed to put up with us for a second night when we discovered that Addie would be out of commission for the weekend, and on that second night we cooked a splendid feast including tacos, nachos, and some glorious spirits and sparkling grape juice. The night could not have been any sweeter!

Debbie bears her plate of goodness to the outdoor feast!

Debbie was truly a light along our path here in New Zealand and helped us to feel welcome and at home having only just arrived in a new land where we knew no one. Our thanks to her and the ways in which she has made possible everything that has since followed!

Fiji, part 3

Above, top to bottom: on the Westin resort overlooking the bay, and at the chapel; the famous "Christmas tree" of Fiji blooms bright red flowers and is all over the island; My flight on New Zealand air from Nadi to Auckland might have been the best flight I have ever taken, fantastic airline including touch screen enterntainment, a food ordering system and hundreds of music, movies and TV shows to choose; my friend Feros at the coffee shop in Nadi was wonderful to me and helped me find a ride back to the airport.


Full Gallery on Flickr


It's really not that hard to sneak into a resort on your layover. It's the $25 for sunscreen I find difficult.
Strolling through the Westin Resort in Denarau port on Viti Levu Island in Fiji, I'm popping up my polo collar and donning my aviator sunglasses, Guinness sandals and swimsuit to do my best tourist stroll. As pasty white as I am, most people assume I am fresh off the plane and looking for something strong to drink.

Baggage check with security? Sure.
Do you have a room? No, but I'm going to the airport later.
Here's your baggage tag. Great.
Do you have a towel for an unregistered guest? Yeah, why not?

Twenty-four hours ago I was standing in a few feet of snow in Chicago, and now I've found an empty beach chair, a cold, complimentary bottle of water, and an umbrella looking lonely. What will I do until my flight leaves six hours from now?

The Malone Voyage to NZ!

 

Top: Aman, Jack, Bhuta and me at their place

Middle: In the car on the way to Tullamarine Airport

Bottom: Melbourne from the air

This story must be told as it in many ways illustrates the character of our holiday to NZ thus far.

So my friend Aman offered to host us at his place near Tullamarine Airport in Melbourne, and proceeded to offer us dinner and drinks, in return for which I offered him the “American delicacy” of peanut butter on celery sticks! He laughed at first, but every time I put the plate out for him and his friends, they polished it off! I guess that this is not a common treat for Indian Punjabis. As it were, a few days before Aman had gifted Daniel and I with some exquisite clothing from Quiksilver and Puma (one of my favorites!) and so in exchange I provided him with the Masterchef kit. You see, Aman and I work in the kitchen together at The Coffee Club and I always give him a hard time about his work. He is an excellent cook by the way.

I have learned many things about the cultural differences between India and the US during my time spent with Aman, and this night was no exception. However, that is for another post. The important moment came when the flight departure was imminent and we went to drop Jack to the train that would carry him to his work at the KFC housed in the Crown Casino in Melbourne. We then raced to the airport!

Now you may have heard the stereotypes that Indians drive fast and that they are tenacious dealers, often finding ways around the rules. Well I am here to tell you that my friend Aman has in fact lent credence to every single one of these!

Upon arrival to the airport, he and friend Bhuta came in to see us off. I believe that in the US our drivers would most often say goodbye and leave from the dropoff point. Not Aman and Bhuta. They came in, and thank goodness they did. My bag turned out to be 3kg overweight for a carry-on to Auckland, and to check it would cost $160. So, what did Aman and Bhuta start to do? They helped me unpack the bag and pull out all the heavy stuff (including my 3kg Netbook) and then replace the pack on the scale. 10kg. Good to go. But as I reached to decide what of displaced stuff I would leave behind, Aman and Bhuta began to shove it all back in the bag. At first I resisted, then I realized that we had the boarding passes, and all we had to do was make the gate. Even when I tried to hand stuff to them, they would say, “No! No! Take it with you!” and they assured me they would be there if we had any further weight issues.

So we said our parting goodbyes and walked past the threshold to the international gate security check. But, would you know it!? There was a flight personnel representative with a scale! By now I had kept the smaller bag containing my Netbook apart from my pack, and so I left I on the ground and weighed the bag, then the pack separately. The pack read 11kg, and in answer to the attendant’s question, “Do you have a laptop?” I responded yes. However since the laptop was already outside the bag, I simply took out a couple pair of pants and weighed the pack again. Watching, he asked, “Don’t you have a laptop?” – “Yes.” I replied. “Where is it?” – “Right there.” I said. “So it was not in the bag?” – “No,” I replied, “but the pack is under 10kg now.” I could see the wheels turning in his head, “Are you flying with Jetstar.” – “Yes.” He briefly considered, then gave a grunt as if to say “Off you go!” Off we went.

We were on our way to Auckland, New Zealand and all the new adventures soon to be described!

Fiji, p.2

Above,top to bottom: My flight to Fiji on the morning of Jan. 4th at 5 am, Nadi International Airport,Fiji; I met many helpful people along the way, including Elisabetta, a Kiwi teaching in the U.K. who was on holiday in Fiji. We shared a cab to the beach and swapped travel stories; I crashed several resorts and took full advantage of free amenities, including water, baggage drop and towels, but not suntan lotion. I got quite burned despite hanging out at the Sheraton, Radisson and Westin hotels: A view of the golf course near the Westin hotel- the disparity between the resorts and rural Fiji was striking in cleanliness.

Full gallery on Flickr

Layovers are boring, unless it's in Fiji

From top to bottom: This is the WRONG ticket counter, January 2nd; the view from my Air Pacific flight at 4 am over the Pacific Ocean on January 4th; the Fiji islands from my airplane window at 4:30 am on January 4th; the countryside surrounding Nadi International Airport, January 4th; Gerald, the friendly Fijian flight attendant who taught me basic fijian words.

Full gallery on Flickr

"You're not on this flight," said the young lady at the ticket counter. "Did you print a boarding pass?"
"No."
"Well, you're not on this flight," she said.
Now one hour and 41 minutes before my supposed departure from Los Angeles, and I don't have a flight. Thumbing through my passport, she typed my name and smiled.
"Ah, you're now on Air Pacific, terminal three."

Sprinting down the sidewalk, backpack over my back, another bag over my head, I nearly knocked over a cart and a small child to make it to the Air Pacific counter. Filled with Chinese, Indian and Korean travelers, I easily shouted my way through the crowd and pushed past everyone with my height. The german woman at the counter seems skeptical of me, the sweat dripping down my face and the bag she says is too big.
I quickly reorganize my belongings to her satisfaction, and with one hour and five minutes remaining, she said "do you have your departure ticket from New Zealand?"
"Yes, but it's online."
"I need a printed copy. There's a printing station down two levels on the other side of this terminal. You have ten minutes."

This time, I did knock someone over, but I made it on my flight to Fiji.