I seem to have a problem sleeping in hostels. Sound familiar? Anyone who's spent any time away from home knows the strange sensation of sleeping in another bed, and anyone who's stayed in a hostel knows that combining this with sleeping with strangers is a sure recipe for little sleep. Maybe this whole problem started with my last week or so in Montreal – stressing out about not being ready, finding someone to take my room, and my application to do a Master's all contrived to reduce my time in the land of nod.
You can therefore imagine that I was not best pleased, Sunday morning, at the prospect of waking up at 7am after going to bed around 1:30 that same morning; not to mention the mean thin mattress I was sleeping on that made a shifty crunkly noise when weight was put on it, suspiciously similar to the sound of a mattress protected against kids wetting the bed. My goal was worth getting up for though – the island of Alcatraz awaited and I was set to catch the first ferry over there. I thought for some horrible moments that I wouldn't actually make it since the #10 bus, driven by a slouching mass of a man who looked like he would have to roll many parts of him up before getting up himself, lumbered slowly along the streets; so slow in fact that we barely overtook a couple walking in the same direction.
Waiting in line to get on the ferry I was struck by the short-sightedness of the tour operators. Instead of creating a wonderful opportunity to simulate what it may have been like for prisoners sent to this island jail, they instead slowed everyone down by taking a photo of each person or group in front of a vinyl backdrop of Alcatraz (the island, not the prison). Yours to buy for only $22! Bear in mind that while on the boat you have ample opportunity to take a photo in front of the real thing.
The fe
rry ride offered gorgeous views of the city, its buildings shrouded in mist as the sun started shining. It was a gorgeous day, and I was all set for a prison visit. Alcatraz has a whole lot of history – it was a military fort until money was tight and it became a prison (until money got tight then it became a national park)... who knows what might happen next?! There's a steep incline to the prison which sits imposingly on top of the rock. Walking amid ruined and abandoned buildings, the place felt desolate, much like I would imagine prison would feel. There's a great audio tour of the prison included in the cost of admission, and it is well worth it. With the headset on you can almost forget all the other tourists stopping at the same places and looking up at the same time as you.
Although it was warm outside, inside the prison was a completely different matter. This place was cold – and full of so many stories, dreams, deaths and hopes for something else. The cells were really quite small and there were, of course, no TVs, though prisoners did have access to 2 radio stations. Interestingly enough, the meals served had to not only be nutritious, but well-presented too – wonder if that is still a rule these days? Perhaps the most poignant thing about Alcatraz was the proximity to the outside world. San Francisco is a 10-minute boat ride away and is clearly visible and often audible, depending on the direction of the wind. Imagine being locked up on a rock, only allowed out of your cell for a certain amount of time each day, and outside the prison building for a short span of time in that day, but all the time you know that your old life is just beyond your reach. Must have been heart-breaking and infuriating, maddening... so maddening that people would scheme and plot and try (jury is still out as to whether any succeeded) to escape.
I did almost get stuck on Alcatraz when I tried to take the 'Agave Trail' back to the dock but instead ended up on the other side of the prison, surrounded by the stench of bird pooh (the island is now a bird sanctuary – learn from my experience and look before you kneel) and the only way out being up some steep, crumbling concrete steps to the exercise yard. I eventually found my way to the boat and joyfully set sail in the sunshine for San Francisco, wondering how it must have felt for prisoners who got off the Rock to their freedom.
The rest of my time in the city was spend riding the cable cars - awesome! - and doing mundane chores like posting things, trying to get back the music lost on my iPod, and attempting (unsuccessfully) to finish my letter of intent for Concordia. As I prepared for my departure to Fiji (via L.A.), I got to thinking about how, although I wasn't too keen on San Francisco to begin with, which I think was due in large part to the mingy hostel I stayed in in the ghetto my first two nights, I had now, like Vancouver and Seattle before, got used to the city somewhat and was slightly nervous about the next move. Traveling is fun, of course, but it is also stressful. After a few days you have to get used to a new place, new bus systems, new people, new beds. The place you would think you should go to get photocopies is not the place where you can actually get them... But my next stop is Fiji, how could I be nervous?
Sitting in the departure lounge (this is too kind a word for what this actually is, I think they are in the middle of refurbishing it, or if not they should be), I can't believe I am on the move again and I can barely believe where I am going. Although I thought out the trajectory of my whole trip about 5-6 months ago, I have not done extensive research on any of the places I am going and in fact only booked my Fiji accommodation a week ago. I am stoked...I am looking at all the other people here and trying to figure out who is Fijian, who is on vacation, who is backpacking... I have no clue how long the flight is, I only know it's currently 21:02 on December 01 and I arrive at 05:45 December 3rd. I wonder how it will feel to cross the dateline...will I even notice? Will time be all screwy for the next while, or will the relaxation (and partying?) of Fiji mean I take to it like a duck to water? Only a few hours until I find out!
This will of course be posted once I actually have access to the intetron, which may not be for a week!
Back in Christchurch after a fleeting 7 day tour of New Zealand's south island, my main impression of this vastly underpopulated country is just how beautiful it is. Ranging from sandy beaches to flat plains, vast mountains and gorgeous blue glaciers, there is a whole lot to see, explore and experience. The weather can sometimes be off-putting: we had a joke on the bus that there was a rain cloud that had fallen in love with the blue Connections logo; but you can still do a lot despite the rain.
Missing out on skydiving in Queenstown was really sucky; but as I kept telling my new friends: you can jump out of an aeroplane almost anywhere. Milford Sound in the rain was also a rather nice, calm experience – the rainfall makes more waterfalls appear out of the rock and gives everything a very misty, ethereal look. Not being able to see the peak of Mount Cook was a bit of a bummer, but the surrounding scenery was still pretty spectacular and what would you know, but when we finally arrived back in Christchurch it was sunny.
Not for long...my final full day here has been a massive rain fest. Not a rain storm that blows over, but one long, dreary damp day when everything gets wet – shoes, coat, bags.... Thankfully I have a rain coat! Sometimes it looks like it's letting up, but as you adventure back outside you realise it is just raining slightly less than before and there are more unfortunates passing without umbrellas than about 10 minutes ago. Christchurch, as I mentioned before, is quite a small little town. I had thought it economically depressed until I went out for a few drinks last night. The place was thriving! There are quite a few bars, pubs and clubs and after about 11pm the streets were busy with revelers from different parts of the world. The one thing that struck me the most, however, was how...uncomfortable I felt. I was not scared, nor did I feel threatened, but the overall feeling or vibe of the place was of people hunting. Mainly men. Unlike Queenstown, there were men everywhere: old, young, drunk and slightly more sober. All seemed to have one goal in mind – to kiss (or more) a girl. My friend Dewi & I even saw one gaggle of men carrying a cardboard cut-out, much as you'd see promoting a movie – of a woman in the streets. She was probably a famous actress but I didn't recognise her.
New-found friends... one of the best things about traveling, after or maybe joined with seeing new places (often ones you have thought of visiting for a long time), is meeting new people. Admittedly this can sometimes be a tiring experience, but there are many benefits. I primarily chose to do a tour of the south island because I knew it would be easier than me trying to find my way across and around the country, organising places to stay and eat along the way. (I am even happier with my decision now that I know how expensive internet access is here. I still can't really work it out, other than to think that you are pretty far from anywhere.) The Connections tour had another great advantage though – traveling with other (hopefully) like-minded people. It's always interesting to be thrown together with a group of strangers, and little did I realise when I joined the tour in Christchurch that many of those on the bus had actually already spent 8 days together in the north island. I met many fun and interesting people and got to appreciate them all to different extents and for different reasons. Some I wasn't so sure on at first meeting, others I got to know quickly, some slowly, some barely at all. However all were friendly, approachable, and cheerily said good morning to one another when we'd meet, invariably around 7:20am, to eat breakfast before packing ourselves back in the coach for a long journey to another spot to stay. So, my memories of New Zealand will be of endless, arresting scenery (as my photos attest to) of mountains, lakes, green plains, rolling hills, sheep, snow and ice, and a whole bunch of new friends and acquaintances whom I wish all the best with their further travels, returns home, exams, love lives and general life. It was great to explore the south island with you all and share different experiences, not to mention learn more about myself in the process of getting to know you and reacting to different circumstances. Thank you all, and thank you New Zealand. I wish I had learned more about the Maori (there was a stay with them on the north island tour) and I have no idea how to say goodbye in their tongue, though I am sure Google would help if I could afford the internet right now, but that is what I say. I am not sure when I will be back, but I hope that when that does roll around I have a bit more sunshine and as great friends and encounters as this time.
