A few final pictures

The picture of me clean-shaven was taken August 18th, the day before I left. The picture of me with a few whiskers was taken November 20th. I wanted to show the difference between the three months. Longer hair, a beard, and losing seven or eight pounds will make you look a tad different.

The Last Entry

November 13th, 2006 Hyde Park Inn, Sydney, Australia
Living in Brisbane for the past few months has been a great experience. The only other times I’ve ever lived in a big city was before I can remember in Fort Worth and then for a few months in Athens. It was peaceful, clean, and friendly city and I was sad to watch it get smaller from the window of the plane. I could see Kangaroo Point and the Bridgewater Apartments from the sky and then it all disappeared.
It was a short flight to Sydney. As my bag came out on the conveyor belt, I felt a slight twinge of anger as I saw that the zipper had been busted and my socks were falling out. This is the second time airline baggage handlers have destroyed my bags and I wasn’t happy about it. Colin was there waiting for us in his long socks and we loaded his bus again. We drove through the city to the familiar Hyde Park where we pulled up to our old abode at the inn across the street from the lovely park. I’m a big fan of Sydney. It feels more European, or British, than the other cities we have visited. Pierre, Darren, and I were put in the same room (801) we had before and I claimed my same bed. The view from the balcony was still beautiful.
Our other bags which Colin had driven here from Brisbane were waiting in the lobby. Mine was the big broken one with masking tape wrapped around it. I hauled the thing up to the room and threw it down. The three of us left the inn and walked a blocks over to George Street where, across from Town Hall, was a discount shopping mall. We tried a luggage store closer to the inn, but it was ridiculously expensive. At the discount store I found a really big, solid suitcase at a very reasonable price. I was very happy. It was much bigger than the busted one and seemed to be pretty tough. That’s what I like to see in a bag. So I bought it and was happy.
I went for a run around Hyde Park, going four times around the perimeter. Sydney’s a fantastic city, especially the area around the park. It feels safe and right. Sitting on a bench on the far side of a park was an old lady who was here two months ago. She reminds me of the lady in Mary Poppins about whom Julie Andrews sings “Feed the Birds.” A flock of pigeons sat around this lady, quite a few of which were perched upon her shoulders. I wondered what had brought her to the streets and why she was still here.
We were told to wear formal clothes to the Opera House this evening, so I had to dig out my slacks, white shirt, and sports jacket again. I wanted to breathe, so I decided to ditch the tie. Once the group had gathered in the lobby, we walked down the street to our dinner, which was in some hotel, the name of which escapes me. It was a buffet dinner, and it was very good. Ashley, Greer, and I developed a philosophy of life regarding two rolls of bread. We are all advocates of the laidback Australian mindset, enjoying and appreciating life. Everything’s too fast in America. We can’t slow down, because then we might actually think about decisions before we make them. Take time to appreciate the rolls once you’ve buttered them. There’s no need to rush and choke them down. Do what the Greeks do: work for awhile, and then take a siesta for an longer while. Enjoy your buttered rolls. That’s life right there. Pretty profound stuff right there.
We boarded the bus and headed to the Sydney Opera House for a concert. I didn’t really care what the music was, because it was in this amazing building. We entered the large Concert Hall and found our seats, which were actually well-positioned. The opening act consisted of a brother and sister and two other guys. They were very talented, playing the guitar and harmonica and trumpet. The girl could be a very good singer, but she unfortunately does this weird undulation with her voice which I call the “sheep effect.” I did like their music, though. And then the main performer came on. Her name is Kasey Chambers, and Australian country and western singer. And she was really good. I very much enjoyed her music. She’s a fantastic performer, very witty and humorous. She seemed like a very sweet and amiable person, incredibly down-to-earth. She was definitely excited to be performing where she was. She did a great job of interacting with the audience. The first ten years of her life were spent living out of the back of her family’s van in the Nullarbor Plain, living off the land. They would sit around the campfire at night and sing and play the guitar. Her father plays in her ensemble now. She’s a very good lyricist and has a beautiful voice. One of the best songs was a tune she wrote a few years ago about Steve Irwin. It celebrated his enthusiasm and zeal for life (or for buttered rolls), and it seemed appropriate to play it now. It was strange to imagine I was watching this concert in the Opera House, but then again I’ve done some pretty wild things on this trip that don’t quite seem possible.
The city glistened as we walked into the night. The bridge behind the Opera House was lit and the water beneath it sparkled. Tomorrow we spend touring a few of the many sites of Sydney. Only a few more days left and this will be but a distant memory.

November 15th, 2006 Hyde Park Inn, Sydney, Australia
We met in the lobby of the hotel at 9 yesterday morning and boarded the bus as soon as Colin arrived. We made our way to a small peninsula with a view back towards Sydney Harbour and the Opera House and bridge, nicknamed the Coat Hangar. On the other side of the neck of land, hewn into the rock, was Mrs. Macquarie’s Chair. Elizabeth Macquarie had this stone chair carved from the rock by her husband Lachlan Macquarie (who had a tendency to name everything after himself). After the convicts were brought in to hack away, Mrs. Macquarie was able to sit and watch the ships as they sailed into the harbor. On the far side of the peninsula was an inlet in which the old wharf once sat. This has now been turned into very expensive apartment complexes. The top floor of one of these complexes was purchased by Russell Crowe for $14 million. Great actor, but he’s got a surplus of money on his hands. It’s not even a very attractive location. I wouldn’t pay $14 million for it. Then again, I’m the kind of guy that struggles over whether or not to spend a few bucks on a bottle of water.
As we drove we made a few stops for pictures of the harbor. One stop led to a path that crawled over a series of rock outcroppings. Out in the distance I could see sailboats being tossed by the waves. Going around in the world in a sailboat, or any boat really, would be a lot of fun. That’s another thing to add to my list of things to do before I die. I’m going to have to live a really long time.
Colin parked the bus on the side of the road and we walked across a stone bridge and down to Bondi Beach, supposedly the most famous in all of Australia. For some reason I doubted this, because Surfers Paradise seemed pretty darn popular. We were given a fairly large chunk of time here, so I simply walked up and down the beach, enjoying the breeze and the view of the sea. William saw me from a café and accompanied me to the playground where we hopped on the swings and scaled the monkey bars and slid down poles and just acted our age.
Lunch was up the street from the harbor in a German restaurant called Löwenbräu. We were led to a dimly-lit room in the back where, lo and behold, another buffet was set up. This is in no way a complaint. Buffets are definitely the way to go. And you can’t really complain when you have chicken schnitzel.
We walked down the street to the harbor where we boarded the Captain Cook III and set out on a two-hour tour of Sydney Harbour and others that connected to it. It was a fantastic way to see parts of the city, passing right beside the Opera House. A lady stood on the deck with a microphone pointing out things of interest and telling stories about the city. I love Sydney. Ashley and I had coffee with a elderly lady from southern California, telling her about our trip and hearing of her upcoming cruise around New Zealand. William and I sat in the back of the boat and threw pieces of bread to the seagulls that flew, literally, within inches of us. William almost lost a hand and he seemed to think it was really funny.
“Oh, Donafen, dey almost bit yoh nose off!”
Once we were docked, we walked up the street, past the restaurant, and underneath a tall tunnel to an Anglican church. We made a quick stop to check it out before meeting Colin and the bus. He drove us around the corner to Hyde Park and St. Mary’s Cathedral. This is the beautiful and massive church that I was unable to visit two months ago because it was closed. But not this time. It was a magnificent church, one of the most beautiful I’ve seen. It was most certainly the most attractive, and the largest, church we have seen on this trip. The crypt was closed, which only meant that I would have to return the following the day.
We had done a fair amount of walking during the day, so I thought two laps around Hyde Park was adequate. Kevin, Darren, Heidi, and I walked to a video store and rented a few movies for the evening: Shaun of the Dead, Equilibrium, and The Usual Suspects, Felicity, Katie, Will, and Derek all joined us in watching them. I had to become a member of the place to rent them. It’s unfortunate we’re leaving soon, because they offer some pretty sweet deals at that joint. Life’s unfair sometimes, I suppose.

Heidi, Darren, Felicity, and I met in the lobby of the hotel and headed out to the Sydney Aquarium. We passed several blocks and over the main highway on a walkway before coming to Cockle Bay, which connected to Darling Harbour. We bought dual tickets to the aquarium and to Wildlife World. The aquarium was far more impressive, probably because everything in the wildlife place we had seen in the Outback or at the Australia Zoo. The variety of fish that swim in the seas is pretty astounding.
We walked along the wharf of Cockle Bay and found lunch. I had my last fish and chips, at least for awhile. I’m going to miss that stuff. We then began making our way back across the streets. We came to George Street and went into the Queen Victoria Building. It’s a large structure, in the style of, very appropriately, Victorian architecture with green domes upon the top. The inside has been renovated into a shopping complex, a very expensive one, so we didn’t stay around very long. We peeked into a few souvenir shops before making our way to Hyde Park.
We arrived at St. Mary’s Cathedral. A ticket had to be purchased to venture down into the crypt, but it was only $5, so I figured I could splurge. The vaulted ceilings of the basement stretched over floors laden with beautiful mosaics. A sort of museum was set up with information on the history of the church and the surrounding areas. It was certainly worth the few bucks to get in. We sat on one of the back pews for a little while, listening to the music of the organ.
I went on another shortened run, again figuring I had walked a good long way. At 5 the group met in the lobby and we drove around the corner to the revolving restaurant, the observation deck of which is the tallest in the Southern Hemisphere. The view from the top was amazing. Sydney’s quite a large city. The Tasman Sea lay before us and the Opera House was also visible. We ate an excellent buffet dinner before we descended down the lift to the street. Upon returning to the hotel, we all piled into a meeting room on the first floor to have a sort of closing ceremony for the trip. We went around the room and shared our favorite memory and the person who has impacted us the most. It was difficult to narrow it down, but people really had some heartfelt responses. I named Rich, Dr. Byram, and, of course, William as the people who meant the most. When I said his name, William’s little face went red and he smiled sheepishly and hung his head. Derek said I had impacted him in our many discussions, saying that even though we didn’t always agree, I had challenged him and inspired him with my conviction and my desire to what’s right no matter what. I really appreciated that. I’m glad that kind of stuff is apparent, at least to some people. Poor Joelle was crying, as were others, as she tried to get through her favorite things.
“Jonathan,” she said, wiping her eyes, “I loved our hike in New Zealand. That was just so great. And I have really loved the way you are with kids.” As she said this she wiped her eyes once more and added, “I want that in a husband.”
Everybody started cracking up at the awkward (and unintended) timing of that sentence.
We then played a game in which we picked a name of someone in the group out of a bag and everyone else had to guess who it was. It created some interesting situations. Kevin Finn drew William’s name out of the bag and immediately ran over to me and jumped in my lap, popping me on the top of the head. I think everyone figured out who he was. Patrick had been contracted at the beginning of the semester to create awards for everyone. They were absolutely hilarious. Mine was in honor of an incident in New Zealand, and it was presented to Jonathan “I am the Messiest Pooper” McRay. Don’t ask. Rich and Dr. Byram then shared a few thoughts about the semester, of their appreciation and enjoyment of all that has gone on in the past few months. It’s strange to think it’s all over. This was our last night in Australia. Three months have gone by very quickly. I think it’s hitting some people that it’s all drawing to an end, and they’re realizing that they weren’t as ready to go home as they thought. There was no such revelation for me. I knew it already.
I’ll miss this place.

November 16th, 2006 On Air China Flight 178, somewhere along the East China Sea
I was able to procure Patrick’s laptop in order to pass the time of this long flight. I might need to retract a few things I said previously about Air China. This flight hasn’t been so bad. Perhaps I’m strange, but I’ve always enjoyed airline food, and the meals on this particular airline are no exception. For some reason Pierre and I were lined up to sit next to one another, and I had the window seat. People over six feet should have their choice of seat on a plane. Anna was kind enough to switch around, so Pierre moved to an aisle seat behind us and Anna hopped up to the seat 30K and I moved over to the aisle. I actually have plenty of leg room and the flight actually showed a decent movie early in the trip. I suppose Poseidon is a better choice for an airline movie than a cruise movie. Definitely better than Cast Away or Air Force One.
I had planned on waking up early this morning to run one final time around Hyde Park. My alarm sounded at 7:50, and I promptly turned it off and set it for a later time and fell back asleep. I’m not a very disciplined person early in the morning. Thirty minutes later I was up and showering and making sure everything was in order. I left my old suitcase in the room. I had planned on taking it to Hyde Park and making a bonfire out of it, but it wouldn’t have looked good to miss the flight to China because I was sitting in an Aussie jail.
We all have a lot of luggage. I could have left half of what I brought. I should have figured that three months ago, but my dear sweet mother was trying to take care of me. It was appreciated, but I’m carrying around a load of deadweight. On top of this I have been asked by Felicity to carry one of her many bags. I should have just thrown it back at her, but it was my day to chivalrous.
By 9 we had all the bags on the bus and it was scraping the pavement. As we drove, Colin expressed his deep appreciation for this group and for all that it means to him. He has been driving for HUA for eight years now and seems to be as much a part of the trip as Australia itself. His voice shook as he spoke. We exchanged a hearty handshake as we said goodbye. He was quite possibly the finest pool teammate I’ve ever had.
I don’t belief I have ever had so much trouble checking my bags. Oh yeah, except for that one time when I had a darn sword! I had somewhere believed we were allowed two carry-ons, but this was not true, so I would have to check three bags: two of mine and Felicity’s. We were allowed thirty-two kilos per bag, and my new big one was around 31.2. It was mainly the bag itself that weighed so much. My smaller suitcase was far under the limit, so I did a bit of rearranging with my backpack to reduce its weight. I had to pay $28 for checking three bags. I definitely hope to be reimbursed.
Security was a breeze, for the sole reason that I no longer had a laptop to pull out of my backpack. Heather, Shelby, Ms. Pam, and little Claire were flying back to Brisbane. Heather and the girls would be joining the rest of their family in LA a day after we arrived. It was sad to say goodbye. Shelby gave me a big bear-hug and I thanked Ms. Pam profusely for the trip. It would not have been possibly if it weren’t for her. She coordinated everything, fixed everything, provided every piece of information, and just simply made this the outstanding trip it was. I couldn’t thank her enough. Dr. Burks, she deserves a really big raise.
I was able to sleep quite comfortably for some time. I turned the music station on my armrest to the Classical music station and rested my head against the seat and closed my eyes. I really love that kind of music. It’s quite relaxing and peaceful. Vivaldi’s “Allegra” from “Spring” of his “Four Seasons” was playing and I blocked out the hum of the airplane and listened to the sound of the orchestra. Yes, the D.J. did mention the name of the song, but I’m a fairly well-rounded guy, so don’t act so surprised.
As Australia faded beneath us, I gazed out the window, longing for the day when I could return once more. There are so many more places to see and so many people I want to visit again that I cannot imagine not coming back. Australia is a beautiful land full of amazing sites and sounds and smells. Living there was an incredible experience. I miss the Land Down Under already. I have been to the incredible world of Australia, and I will come back again. Someday.

November 17th, 2006 On Air China Flight 983, somewhere over Siberia
We landed in Shanghai around 8 and disembarked. We followed the maze that is that airport until we came back to the same gate and boarded the same aircraft, sitting in the same seats. I experienced a bit of déjà vu. When we left China in late August, we flew in to the same gate and went through the same maze, arriving back at the same gate and sitting in the same seats once again. The trip to Australia began in the same way it ended. Our first hotel in Australia had been the Hyde Park Inn, which was also our last. It created a little bit of parallelism.
We arrived in Beijing around 11:30 and were greeted by our dear old friend Vince, holding that old yellow flag. With him was Daniel Ranberger, the guy who graduated from Harding and was now teaching English for a year in China. He had also flown to Australia and spent a little over a week with us at the Bridgewater Apartments.
Winter had arrived in Beijing, and it was refreshing outside. The forecast, however, said nothing about this. Instead of predicting “Cold” or “Sunny” or “Cloudy,” the one word forecast for Beijing was “Smoke.” Our accommodation for the night was a good little drive into the massive city. The Pei Xin Hotel was a very nice place. There were two to a room, so Derek and I signed up and headed to Room 711. The rooms were large and the beds comfortable. The only problem was it was really warm. The air conditioner had been turned off, presumably because of winter. I don’t understand this line of thought. Just because it’s cold outside doesn’t mean it needs to so hot inside you have to get naked to keep cool. I am not implying by this that either Derek or I got naked, I’m just attempting to make a point. The temperature should be fairly cool and you want to get warm snuggle up in the blankets!
I awoke a little past 10 this morning. We didn’t have to be anywhere until 12:30, so I didn’t feel the need to arise any sooner. A few people went to the Pearl Market down the street, but I had no money and no room in my suitcases. I ran up and down six flights of stairs five times to serve as my exercise and then just sat on my bed for a long while. Derek and I discussed the book he was reading, The Sword of Shannara, which I had recommended to him. At 12:30, all of our bags were on the bus and we drove to the Beijing Noodle, which was the second restaurant we had eaten at when we first arrived in Beijing. We were originally scheduled to dine at a Western buffet, but a few of us (myself the leader of this group), protesting this decision, seeing as how this was our last meal in China and it would be a shame to spend it eating food we were going to eat in a day’s time. We were then taken to the Silk Market and given an hour-and-a-half to explore and shop. I wandered with Katie and Felicity, and we were hounded by the shop-owners, being dragged into stores and hearing, “For you, I have good price!” a few times too many. At 4, we were back on the bus, saying goodbye to Ran(berger), and heading to the airport. We again thanked Vincent for all he had done and said goodbye.
The check-in line took some time to get through. I kind of hid Felicity’s bag under the counter and got away without having to pay for it, choosing to carry it with me. It’s sitting in the overhead bin right now, so I guess the ruse worked. The Byrams were not flying with us because they were heading to South Korea for a few days to visit some friends. I was really tempted to change my ticket, and Dr. Byram was more than willing to help, but I figured there would be this short red-headed woman in Tennessee who would be a little upset with me. We all exchanged hugs and bid farewell. It was sad to see them go.
Rich and I sat and discussed Christianity Rediscovered and my paper on that subject until it was time to board the plane. Yet another part of this journey is ending. The next time we land we will once again be in the United States.
X-Men III just came on the big screen. And seeing as how I’ve run out of things to talk about and Rich’s laptop battery is running low, this would be a good time to take a little break.

In LAX Terminal 5
Our plane landed in Los Angeles four hours before we left Beijing. Air China Flight 983 flew out Beijing, China, at 8PM on November 17th, 2006. That same flight landed in Los Angeles, United States, at 4PM on November 17th, 2006. I suppose time-travel really is possible.
My stomach was full of butterflies as we landed. I had very mixed emotions about once again touching down in the U.S. I was looking forward to seeing my family and friends, but I just wasn't ready for this trip to be over. I came to Harding for two reasons. The first was that my two closest friends (Caleb and Daniel Meeks) were going to attend there, and the second was this trip. I was the first person to sign up for HUA, and I did so before I even committed to Harding. After a difficult experience my first semester at Harding, it was, along with my friends, the thing that kept me where I was. We all exited the plane and made our way through Immigration to the baggage claim. A few people grabbed their bags and were immediately off, rushing to catch flights. It was sad to watch everyone break apart. It really was all over, and I didn't like it. I gave Rich a hug, thanking him for the trip and this experience. He told me to make sure I come to Chicago soon. He called to William and Annie and told them to come and say goodbye to me, and William sprinted across the room, yelling, "Dohnny!" He leaped up into me, almost knocking me over. Annie raced over also. I'm going to miss those kids. I'm going to miss walking down to the Littles' apartment in Brisbane and hearing Annie say, "William! Shelby! Jonathan's here to see us!" I love that family.
It's strange to realize that after three months of travel I am back where I started. The group came together here, many of us meeting for the first time and coming with the knowledge that we were about to set out across the world. It's bittersweet returning home, and not because of anything wrong with home or the people I am going to see, but because in a month-and-a-half, when I leave my family once again, it won't be because I'm returning to Australia, New Zealand, and China. I'll never have this time of my life back again, and I sit and think about whether or not I seized every opportunity I had to make it the best that it could be. I wouldn't mind living it again.
I dropped all my bags on a cart and wheeled it across several streets to Terminal 5 where Delta is located. Ashley and I are flying to Atlanta on the same flight, and he was already there. Pierre was there also, flying on Delta, but not on the same flight. I had no wait in line and the only problem was that my big suitcase was over the weight limit. I protested, saying I was allowed out of the country with this much. It was in vain, so I had to pay $25. I'm spending more money now on extra luggage than I ever did on the whole trip. Ashley and I were supposed to meet Kevin and Greer, but we couldn't find them and decided to go ahead and pass through security. Ashley's bag set off the scanner, so they were passed through once again. A tall, elderly black man with a slow, steady gait grabbed Felicity's bag and carried it over to a counter to search it. It seemed it to had set off the alarm. Ashley grabbed his and went on through. I know it must have looked strange to this gentleman as he pulled out girl's clothing and a coin purse and a Sportsgirls Magazine. I very cunningly noted that I was aiding a friend who had too much luggage. He eventually emptied the entire bag and passed it through the detector once more, but nothing showed up this time. He helped me repack and apologized for the inconvenience.
"Son," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder, "you have a safe flight, all right? God bless you." I liked this guy.
He searched the wrong bag though. When Ashley's bag triggered the alarm, they passed it through. Felicity's bag was in front of it and the two are similar in appearance (the bags, not Ashley and Felicity), so when Felicity's bag came through, my friend assumed this was the one that set off the detector. I'm glad Ashley's a decent guy and didn't get away with, say, a gun.
Since that time we have been attempting to pass the time in whatever way we can. We got something to drink and watched a basketball game on TV for a while. I browsed through the magazines of one of the stores and then plopped myself on the floor next to the gate and napped. Julie appeared out of nowhere. She was leaving on the flight to Atlanta just before us, out of the same gate from which we are going. Pierre showed up, also, which is how I am able to type at this moment. Julie's flight left at 10, so the waiting shouldn't be too much longer. Poor Pierre's flight to Cincinnati doesn't leave until 12:45.
We lose three hours on this four-hour flight, which isn't actually a bag thing. I then have a three-hour layover in Atlanta before flying to Knoxville, where I will be picked up by my family and we will drive into the Appalachian Mountains to the little town of Jellico. It's a diverse world in which we live.

November 19th, 2006 Jellico, Tennessee, the United States
For some wonderful reason I had been awarded with a seat on the emergency exit row. A man in his sixties named Don, from Augusta, Georgia, sat next to me and we had a long and very good conversation. I told him about the past three months, which in turn led to a discussion of politics, which then led to a discussion of God. Strange progression, but it worked out well. Don expressed his growing distaste for the evangelical world, and I was forced to agree. I sometimes think Christians are the most discriminated against and most hated group in the world, and sadly much of the time we bring it upon ourselves. Don and I turned to the topic of grace. It is so unique to Christianity and Christians are often the worst at showing it. The point is not whether you believe homosexuality or abortion are right, we are required to portray grace and love. I was encouraged by my talk with Don, and hopefully he was also.
The plane landed in Atlanta around 6:30 and my next flight didn’t leave until 9. Ashley and I took our time making our way to our terminal (we were both flying out of the same one) and I grabbed a beautiful Cinnabon, and it was good. A flight attendant bought me a cup of hot chocolate if I let her cut ahead of me in line so she could make her flight in ten minutes. I couldn’t refuse. As my plane was boarding, I said goodbye to Ashley and headed to Knoxville.
As I rounded the corner in the Knoxville airport, my family came into view. The only one not there was my sister, who was at a youth retreat for the weekend. My mom looked expressionless me for a few seconds until she realized it was me. She squealed, which kind of scared me, and ran up as I walked up. It was good to see my family once again. Our little home of Jellico, nestled in the Appalachian Mountains, had not changed at all, and that was fine. A little bit of fall was still in the air so I could enjoy sweat-shirt weather. My dad and I ran four miles together, chatting as we went. I was able to attend my brother’s first basketball game and see some of my closest friends from high school. Later in the evening, I saw my second family, the Meeks, and my other brothers, Caleb and Daniel, who had just arrived from Harding for Thanksgiving break. It is good to be home.
But I miss Australia and New Zealand and China. I miss traveling and having somewhere new and exciting to visit each morning. I would never have those three months back again. They were officially over. And suddenly it was like it never happened. It almost felt like I had never left, and I had to look at my pictures to prove to myself that I had. I love Tennessee and my family and friends, but I wouldn’t mind going back. This time of the year, though, is a good time to come back. The holidays are close and the weather is perfect and the families will be convening to eat a whole lot of food. But in a few weeks time I will once again be ready to throw on my brown jacket, grab my green backpack, and strap on my camera, leaving my razor behind and set out to wander through this vast and beautiful world. Iceland actually doesn’t sound too bad.

THE END

The Brisbane Finale

November 12th, 2006 Bridgewater Apartments, Brisbane, Australia
A couch that didn’t move was an excellent place to park my rear end for a little while. Speaking of things not moving: perhaps I should have listened to Rich about seeing a doctor. A few times during the day I became quite dizzy and began stumbling around. I had to catch myself and sit down for a few minutes before the discombobulating feelings passed. It was a little disconcerting. Patrick had some ibuprofen, and that seemed to help because today I’ve been able to walk straight.
I actually spent a large portion of my time sitting on the couch of suite 3009. Katie wanted me to put all of my pictures on her computer. Felicity wanted all of my pictures and all of Katie’s pictures on her computer, and I wanted quite a few of Katie’s on my external hard-drive. So, I transferred the rest of mine to Felicity’s (I had done most of them while on the ship), and then downloaded all of Katie’s pictures onto my hard-drive, which was followed by me putting all of mine onto her computer. Then I plugged my little machine into Felicity’s computer and shot off Katie’s pictures. It took a long time. I then went through Katie’s pictures deleting all the ones I didn’t want, which also took quite a bit of time. I should get paid for all this work. Felicity said I didn’t have anything better to do, like (cough) a scrapbook (cough).
Derek and I walked to Tuppy’s and got something to eat and a couple of movies. We watched Red Eye and Inside Man while I worked on another drawing for Will’s scrapbook. It’s not the best I’ve ever done. I haven’t drawn anything for quite some time, and I think I’m a tad rusty. If I had more time it would have been much better, but he had to turn it in this afternoon so I was limited to the amount of time I had. I then set myself once more into that beautiful bed by the balcony and drifted off into a comfortable sleep.

We were on the bus at 8:45 this morning driving to Cleveland for church. It was the last time we would be worshipping with this amazing community. These people are another reason I plan on returning. I’ll miss Michel Chekertri, and Trav and Niki, and her parents Martin and Sue (who were both raised in Zimbabwe and spent quite a bit of time after they were married backpacking around the world), and the other wonderful individuals that comprise this church. I did communion. I didn’t prepare very much beforehand unfortunately, because I was asked to take charge of this late the night before. I turned to Matthew 26 where the thirteen guys are sitting in an upper room reclining around a low-lying table, breaking bread together. I said nothing new, but I think it was profound in that we don’t always think about why we choke down a cracker and (in the case of the Churches of Christ) sip on grape juice. It represents something, and it’s good to remember that. After all, Jesus said to do it for that reason. Rich spoke about the history of baptism, and did a very good job. It was interesting to be reminded of the origins and different practices. He did an admirable job with a difficult topic.
As I said goodbye to Martin, he told me when I come back they would have a preaching job open for me. I assured him they didn’t want to waste money on that, but as long as I could just sit and be with them all I would be back. He told me he would hold me to that promise.
A large potluck had been prepared and as we waited a card game of Spades was played by the usual four people. After the meal, I spoke for quite some time with a lady whose name escapes me about American literature. She is taking a class on the subject and had been told by some of the other HUA students that I am an English major. Unfortunately, I have not yet taken American Literature in college, but we had a wonderful conversation about authors such as Langston Hughes, Ellison, Melville, Nathanial Hawthorne, and John Steinback. She has some sort of project approaching and was seeking advice about good American authors about whom to speak. I don’t think I was much help, but it was still enjoyable to talk about it.
I was sorry to leave. I don’t know when I’ll be back to Cleveland. It was an encouraging and uplifting church experience. I’m thankful to have been a part of that community, even for a short time.
I did a few touchups on the drawing for Will at the apartments and then went ahead and repacked my suitcase, making sure everything was in order. At 4, we loaded the bus again and drove to our final event in Brisbane. We were going to see the Cirque du Soleil’s new production called Varekai. A series of large circus tents had been constructed in a vast parking lot. We entered the largest one and found our seats. The performance took place on a circular stage backed by a jungle of towering poles.
This was by far the finest production we have seen on this trip. It was a magnificent show. At first, it was a bit strange, feeling like a weird dream, or just something out of a Tim Burton movie. The costumes were lavish and extravagant in color. The music was one of my favorite parts of the entire thing, a mix of Italian and Celtic, with occasional African-sounding melodies. The acrobatics of the performers was absolutely astounding. They flew through the air, flexibly shifting in the most incredible positions. Every single act was unbelievable, everything from the juggler to the comedy and the guys leaping and flipping from one swing to another to the three little kids twirling around ropes while doing gymnastics all across the stage. It’s hard to do such a thing justice, because to adequately describe the specific acts would be very difficult. We were not allowed to take pictures and the DVD of the show was $45. The CD was $30, and I wasn’t about to fork over either price. That being said, I was thoroughly impressed. I would watch it again.
As we drove to dinner, William sat with me and Joelle. I spent the ride picking hairs out of his head and slurping them like spaghetti, as well as pulling stuff out of his ears and nose. I was so full from eating his hair and ear particles that I almost wasn’t hungry enough for the buffet at the Casino, but I managed to choke down a few things. I sat with Rex, who has been our bus driver quite a few times. He’s a really great guy to sit and have a few glasses of ginger ale with. Originally from Christchurch, he and his wife came to Australia twenty years ago. He owns the bus charter company for which he drives, as well as some sort of car company. He and I spoke about the past several months and life in Australia and how strange it will be to go back home and driving across the Outback (which he did ten years ago) and all sorts of fun and exciting things. He gave me his contact information for whenever I’m back in Australia so I can stay with him and his wife.
Tomorrow we leave the grand city of Brisbane for good, at least for good on this trip. It’s a sad thought. But a few days in Sydney shouldn’t be too painful.

PS The buildings in the pictures are Tuppy's and one of the two buildings in which the Cleveland church meets.

A Few More Pictures

pictures of the South Pacific

The South Pacific

November 5th, 2006 Onboard the Pacific Star, somewhere in the South Pacific
It’s the wee hours of the morning and the waves are gently rocking the ship and I’m starting to feel a little drowsy. Or perhaps that’s nausea. Can’t say for sure.
I awoke Saturday morning at half past 8 in order to have my bag that I’m leaving behind outside for the truck to haul away. But all did not go smoothly. The zipper on my large and overloaded suitcase has finally had enough and called it quits, divorcing itself from the rest of the bag. It’s an unfortunate separation, considering this marriage kept the family inside together and safe. Kinda ticked me off. If only airline employees would take better care of passengers’ luggage. We return to Brisbane for a day-and-a-half after the cruise, and I know what I’ll be shopping for! Because right now the only things holding that bag together are a piece of rope and some masking tape.
At 10:15 we boarded the bus and drove to another point on the river where the large Pacific Star cruise ship was waiting. Ray, Rich’s dad, was able to come with us on this excursion. Heather was not coming, because Claire was too young, which is part of the reason Amy flew over to be with her. The rain came tumbling down as we stood in line to check luggage and get boarding cards and show passports and the like. There are two things I don’t like about traveling: all the paperwork and all the money. It’s unfortunate these two things constitute a lot of traveling. Once everything was taken care of, we walked through what kind of looked like a plastic tunnel onto the ship.
It’s pretty impressive. I’ve been on a ship over the Mediterranean from Greece to Israel, and it was a nice boat/ferry. But this is the real deal. Almost every level (and there are 11) has a luxurious lounge. There are souvenir shops and an art gallery. The ship also contains a library, Internet café, three swimming pools, a hairdresser, a fitness center, and a medical center. The sip is 672.5 feet in length and is 85.3 feet in width. It rises to a height of 47.8 meters above the water line, and sinks to 7 meters below. The total passenger capacity is 1,350, and there are 520 crew members. All of our rooms are on the 6th level. I’m in a room with Darren and Pierre. The rooms are very comfortable and come equipped with a T.V. and telephone. I noticed that Titanic and The Poseidon Adventure were not included in the movie selections.
Lunch was served buffet-style on the 9th level. This food is amazing, and if I’m not careful and diligent, I will have come on this boat as a passenger and will leave as cargo. I then walked around, touring the many facilities of this fine vessel. I’m amazed at how much they can fit on this thing.
I actually took a nap for a little while as we drifted away from the harbor and sailed out of the Brisbane River into the big blue wet thing. I returned to wandering aimlessly through the ship before coming back to napping. This exchange went on for some time. The reasons are unclear.
Each night dinner is served in the Bordeaux Dining Room on the 4th level. Our group is in the first sitting at 5:45. The dress for this evening was “smart casual.” Ms. Pam told us some people would just be going in what they wore when they boarded, but I knew a few people in the group would be dressing up. I kept the blue jeans and boots on, but discarded the beat-up brown hoody (or is it hoodie?) for a white dress shirt and my sports coat. As I emerged from my cabin, the model comments ensued once more. I’m beginning to see them as some sick game to torment me. Either that or I’ve missed my true calling in life. Although, “there is more to life than being really, really, really, ridiculously good-looking (I quote Ben Stiller’s character from the hilarious movie Zoolander).” Pierre, Darren, Felicity, and I were all pre-assigned to table number 4. Sachin from India was our friendly waiter, and was seemingly disappointed when we failed to realize that his name was the same as a famous cricketeer’s. We don’t get a lot of cricket in the U.S. The meal was delicious. I enjoyed roast prime rib with fruit and a potato. Life on a ship ain’t too bad. There’s something exotic and exciting about it.
After dinner, Heidi, Darren, Felicity, and I wandered around before find ourselves in the Pacific Show Lounge where some sort of song-and-dance show was being performed. It was a very well-done production, although some of the routines were a little shady. Some of it was quite entertaining and it was an interesting taste of the nightlife on the boat. At 10, in the same room, the movie RV was being shown, so we returned after changing. I watched it on the plane to L.A. in August, but I enjoyed it much more this time. The headphones on the plane kind of detract from sound.
I’m sitting now at the desk in the room. The other guys are asleep, which is where I would like to be. The boat is rocking a bit more significantly now. Hopefully, instead of making me stain my sheets, it’ll rock me to sleep.
I think this next week is going to be an exciting, fun, and adventurous time. Tomorrow is a full day at sea. We don’t encounter land until Monday afternoon.

November 6th, 2006 Onboard the Pacific Star, somewhere in the South Pacific
Yesterday I got up around 9 and, after showering, made my way upstairs. In the Starlight Lounge a church service was being held. Rich and Ms. Pam were in and I sat beside them. Captain Stefano Ravera of Italy led the service.
I did a lot of walking around in the morning until I was roped into attending a dance class in the Pacific Show Lounge. First was ballroom dancing, which I had done before. It was Katie Pagett’s birthday, so for a sort of present I danced with her. Healthy, wholesome dancing is pretty fun, I must say. The next class was salsa, and we were cutting some rugs at this point.
Lunch was again buffet-style. I returned to walking about before settling in the Pacific Show Lounge to watch Over the Hedge. I napped for quite some time before preparing for the Captain’s welcome aboard party at 5. This time, I put on the full costume. It isn’t all that bad wearing a suit, but after a while I begin to want my t-shirt and blue jeans. In the Pacific Show Lounge, Captain Ravera welcomed us on the Pacific Star and introduced some of the higher-ranking officers onboard. A jazz trio played in the background. Dinner followed soon afterwards and we descended to level 4. Pierre switched with Heidi some she and Darren could sit with one another. The meal was again delicious, and we chatted with Sachin throughout the evening.
Heidi, Darren, Jennifer, Felicity, and I went to a room and played some board game called Settlers. We actually didn’t get very far, because Failure to Launch came on T.V. and a certain number of our group was sucked in. The game never recovered.
That night I slowly walked around, standing on the deck, enjoying the sea breeze blowing through my hair and the waves rocking the boat. In the Starlight Lounge was live music and dancing and I went in there for a little while to soak up the atmosphere. A very lively night of karaoke was being held in the Casablanca Lounge. I leaned against a column, wincing at the butchering of many good songs. Pierre actually did a fairly good job with Creed’s “One Last Breath.” He told us later that he now knew what it was like to be famous: everyone was supposedly crowding him and praising his talents, and he said it was getting a little old. Oh, the life of a star. I was told to get up there, but I just don’t have the guts I suppose. After awhile I slipped away. Something about drunks stumbling over themselves on a boat trying to sing just doesn’t appeal to me. Don’t ask me why, because you’d be surprised at how many people this does appeal to. Unfortunate.

It was again around 9 when I awoke. My alarm has been going off at 8:30 but I just couldn’t bring myself to get up at that time. Thirty extra minutes helps, I don’t care what people say. I found my way to the gym on the 10th level and hopped on one of the treadmills. Thirty minutes on one of those things seems a lot longer than actually going somewhere. I’d rather be running outside and letting my feet take me somewhere than just standing still. It did provide a good view of one of the decks and the sea behind it.

(written November 7th, 2006 in the early hours of the morning)
Another dance class was taking place, but I was late, not having known there was one. I rested for a spell in the room. One of the channels on the T.V. is a black screen, but it plays jazz music. I’m a big fan of jazz, so I sat and listened to it for awhile. It’s actually playing as I write. I ate a light lunch of assorted fruits at the buffet on Level 9, and then returned to my cabin. The Matador, with Pierce Brosnan, was playing and I had wanted to see it. It’s a very interesting dark comedy, and he does an excellent job at shedding the James Bond image. A few times the channel needed to be changed. Tonight, the movie being shown in the Pacific Show Lounge is The Da Vinci Code. It would have been an opportune time to see it, because it was free and I wouldn’t have to waste money to watch it. But, I had such a good day today I didn’t want to ruin it by thinking about how much of an idiot Dan Brown is. If you’re going to write historical fiction, the history part actually needs to resemble history in some way. I’ve done quite a bit of research on the book so I can hold an intelligent conversation about it, and I really don’t see a need to entertain myself with something like that. The Matador did have some questionable parts, yes, but the channel could be changed. A movie whose soul purpose is to mock and question (and not that questioning is bad, but when you do so with false information and bias…) my beliefs is not necessarily a movie I need to spend two-and-a-half hours of my life watching, even if Ron Howard directed it and Tom Hanks, Ian McKellen, and Paul Bettany are in it. I don’t see anyone making a film that belittles and demeans Mohammed, or promotes the ludicrous and appalling idea that the Holocaust didn’t happen. And now we’ll hear what my colleague, Roger Ebert, had to say about it.
At around 2 we could see the harbor of Noumea of New Caledonia very well. I went up on deck to watch our approach. By 3 we had docked and everyone began hurrying down the gangplank. The archipelago of New Caledonia was pretty much unknown by European standards until the French navigator Louis de Bougainville saw them in 1768. Six years later, Captain James Cook landed on one of the islands while traveling to New Zealand. He called the place “New Caledonia,” which is the Latin name for Scotland, because the pine-clad ridges were reminiscent of the far north of Britain. A base for the U.S. during WWII, it is now a French protectorate, so I once again stepped into France, albeit a little far away from Western Europe. Noumea is the capital of New Caledonia, located on the island called Grande Terre. The entire grouping of islands has a population around 200,000, with 80,000 in Noumea itself.
Patrick and I were heading for the war memorial. Patrick’s granddad was actually stationed here during WWII after his ship was sunk off Guadalcanal. We were joined by Will. We walked down the street of the rather not-so-impressive city (which reminded in some ways of Ramallah, in the occupied territory of the West Bank) to Coconut Square where we hopped on a bus. It took us out of the city and down the coastline. We exited at the stop for Quin Tero, which is where the memorial was. We climbed up the steep hill to find….nothing. There was no memorial. An elder gentleman in his mid-70s was walking around and I asked him where the memorial was. He answered in a distinctive French accent, saying the memorial was actually back in the city. On the top of this hill, he said, were guns from WWII. He then offered to drive us to the top. I overlooked the possibility that this man was going to kidnap and kill us and jumped in the front sea. The other guys must have tossed out this idea, seeing as how they got in the back. At the top were several large guns pointed out to sea. Our new friend, whose name was Gaston Bon, offered to take us across the island to where even older guns were situated and to some old convict buildings. How could we not acquiesce? So we did.
Monsieur Bon was born on the island of Vanuatu and raised here in the South Pacific. He studied engineering in Paris, where he met his wife of forty-three years. He worked in Noumea for twenty-some years doing engineering and the like before teaching at a technical institute, which we passed during our drive. I asked him if he really had the time to be driving us around.
“Ahhh, I’m retired,” he said with a shrug and a smile. “And if I go home, my wife will make me do something.”
We stopped in the town at the war memorial. Half a sphere protruded from the ground, lined on the far side by several pillars adorned with a portion of the image of the American flag. We then headed away from the city into those pine-clothed ridges which had impressed Captain Cook so long ago. We entered an old dirt road that wound its way up a hill. This, Monsieur Bon informed us, was a place where no tourists came, because buses couldn’t maneuver through there.
“The only people who come,” he said chuckling, “are strange people like me who bring tourists with them.”
At the summit, cutting into the hill, were several pathways enshrouded in trees. Sticking out from the branches were the old guns from 1850. No one else was going to make it up here. This is the way to get around. Our friendly guide produced a flashlight from the trunk of his car and led us to an opening in the rock of the hill. It led into a tunnel which carved its way beneath the earth. Several rooms were along this road in which American troops slept when they were stationed at this lookout point. Let me repeat this- we went into a tunnel underground!
We drove down the road to a point where we could see the beach where the convicts arrived and lived in huts. The port was still visible in ruins. Each time we went to spot and spent some time looking, taking pictures and receiving information, Monsieur Bon would say, “Voila. Now we go.” He took us back into Noumea to the Post Office so we could have our passports stamped, but unfortunately it was closed. By this time it was past 5, so we he took us to the harbor. I asked if we could pay him, and he scoffed at the idea.
“I love to take Americans around because of what they did for us in the war.”
I didn’t do anything for him, but he certainly did a lot for us, and I daresay we had the best trip out of the entire 1,300 people. I’ve been smiling the rest of the day. Will said he was going to hang out with me with from now on, seeing as how all the cool stuff supposedly happens to me. I saw an older man and had a question, and from there a remarkable memory was formed.
The attire for the night was smart casual, so I again donned blue jeans and the white shirt and jacket. Dinner was French in flavor and was again pretty darn good. Heidi, Darren, Felicity, and I retired to the 8th level where I was taught to play Spades in the “Card Corridor.” I am supposedly becoming a more well-rounded, and ultimately a better person, because I am learning card games. That’s a load off my shoulders.
One floor up, on one of the deck, was live music, old-school rock-and-roll. Dancing had begun. It’s fun to watch those who actually know what they’re doing mixed with those who are flailing themselves in what the great show Seinfeld would classify as a “full-body heave.”
Tomorrow begins early. I have to run and be somewhere at 8:45 to pick up a ticket to hitch a ride on a boat which will take us ashore. Another day awaits us in France, the South Pacific.

November 7th, 2006 Onboard the Pacific Star, somewhere in the South Pacific
I was going to get up early this morning and run, but I just didn’t have it in me. I was pretty tuckered out. I awoke a little after 8 and went up to the sight of the island of Lifou before me. Heidi, Darren, and I went to the Starlight Lounge to wait for Felicity and Katie to pick up tickets for the boats to shore. The port was far too small to accommodate such a large ship, so what were referred to as tender boats shuttled people across the tropical island. The two girls were pretty late arriving, so we missed the first boat, and then the two of them missed the second one the three of us were on because they were slow in walking down the stairs.
A light rain was falling as we motored the distance to the wooden dock. A market under a large pavilion welcomed us as we arrived. Lifou, while part of New Caledonia, is the largest of what are known as the Loyalty Islands. It was certainly less Caledonian than Noumea, appearing much more like what one would expect of a South Pacific island. We followed a path through the jungle to palm-treed area on the shore. A wooden staircase led down into a small cove. Two local men were swiftly climbing up the palm trees, gathering coconuts and hacking them open with machetes for the people who walked nearby. We bashed our own open and it wasn’t all that appealing. On the way back down the path, we took a slight detour into the trees to a large rock wall. Vines and trees dangled from the crags and crevices in the stone. So, Darren and I shed our backpacks and began scaling the wall by way of the vines. It wasn’t very far to the top, but it was still pretty cool to go climbing with vines.
We walked along the shore on the other side of the dock and found a little path which led to the top of a hill, on which a tall cross spread itself before the open sea. Inland was a very French-style church, built in 1898. We climbed a staircase inside to where a long wooden pole reached up into the bell tower. Darren shimmied up it, almost dying in the process. Well, not really, but it makes it more exciting. At least he would have died in a church. Do you get points for that?
Katie desired to walk down the road to the right of the church to view the houses. This was a sparsely populated section of the island with only a few cars passing by as we went. We were led by a dog that emerged from one of the houses. It seemed to have difficulty controlling its bladder, because it whizzed every twenty seconds. I think it may have been marking its territory, letting us know where we could and couldn’t go. Or it just hadn’t been potty-trained.
We then went on the road to the left of the church, which led past the dock and became a good little hike up a hill. The three girls ditched Darren and me (without telling us, by the way), so the two of us were the only ones to get to see the beautiful Notre Dame de Lourdes. It was a small church, faded in color, and it seemed to be made out of the same bleached material as the other church. On the top stood a statue of Mary, her hands folded in prayer. There wasn’t much inside, but it didn’t really matter. This church was perched atop a hill with a magnificent view of the island. Too bad there were so many people around.
Darren and I caught a boat back to the ship and met the girls at the buffet for lunch. We then headed back to the island. Hey, you take a free meal when you can, especially when the only other option is fermented coconuts. The sun was out by the time we arrived. We walked to the right of the dock, away from the majority of people, to a little grassy area above a short drop by way of limestone rocks to the water. Abby and Chesley were there, so we dropped our stuff by them. I ran and jumped off the ledge, not realizing exactly how shallow the water actually was. Good thing I didn’t dive. The ledge from which I jumped lipped over small caves. The clear green water softly rushed into them and I sat in one for awhile, looking out at the sea. Abby, Katie, Darren, and I swam down the coast a little ways, exploring some of the caves and just enjoying the water.
Heidi, Abby, and Chesley soon returned to the ship, followed soon afterwards by Darren and then Felicity. Katie and I sat on the grassy ledge as the rain began to fall, talking about the trip and people and the cruise. We then grabbed our stuff and headed back to the Pacific Star. I went up to the gym to run for around fifteen minutes, but all three treadmills were being used and I really didn’t feel like sitting around waiting. Besides, it was around thirty minutes to 4, and I was going to go to line dancing class, good ole’ country dancin’. It was pretty fun. I didn’t end up utilizing my newfound skill by going to the hoedown this evening, but I guess I have it logged away for future reference. I went ahead and got dressed for the evening. It was again smart casual, but instead of wearing the sports jacket I donned my brown jacket. I had missed it a little bit. Heidi, Darren, and I went up to the Starlight and found the game Clue at the library. Derek was there, so he played with us. Dinner was once again very good. Sachin was interested in ways we Americans greet one another, so we went through “Howdy,” “How are you?” and “Whassup?” I think he found the last one pretty amusing, because he said it to me as he checked on us throughout the meal. Heidi, Darren, Felicity, and I went to the card corridor and played a round or two of Clue before making it just in time for “Dance,” the show for the evening. A few of the routines were a little racy, which I thought was unnecessary, but the best part of the evening was the Riverdance segment to techno Celtic music.
The four of us booked a tour for tomorrow at Vanuatu and then went up to the buffet for coffee, tea, and more Clue. All of us were pretty tired once we finished. It was a little after 10, but we’ve all been staying up a little late and participating in a lot of different activities. Darren and I were up talking fairly late last night. He’s conked out now. The jazz channel is on, but right now it’s playing something with what sounds like a Spanish guitar. I like it.

November 9th, 2006 Onboard the Pacific Star, somewhere in the South Pacific
I got up pretty early in order to be on time for our tour in the morning. We weren’t sure of the exact time we needed to be onshore, so we overcompensated by getting up early. The tickets had been slid under our doors during the night and we didn’t need to be at the blue tent aft of the ship until 9. I walked down the ramp of the ship into the country of Vanuatu, making it my 25th country. Felicity, Katie, Heidi, Darren, and I arrived at the designated spot to find that our tour had been cancelled due to a rockslide. Why me?
We began trudging into the town of Port Vila. A trunk with a bed-load of people drove passed and the driver offered to chauffeur us into town. We hopped in and sped along the road. At one point a truck going in the opposite direction stopped us. A multitude of guys dressed in Hawaiian-style shirts, who were sitting in the back of the truck, began yelling at our driver angrily. A man who appeared to be a policeman began speaking with our driver. I assumed it was a bunch of taxi drivers ticked off at our guy for stealing their business. Katie said you can’t pay for experiences like this. She’s right: we didn’t.
We began walking around the main street, peeking into the shops. I couldn’t find a patch anywhere. I was saved by Will, who found a store somewhere that carried them and got one for me, figuring I wouldn’t find one. Sweet. Outside one of the shops a woman in a colorful purple dress handed us sheets of paper and asked us to fill them out. The papers concerned our reasons for visiting Vanuatu; she was taking classes to become an education teacher and this was one of her assignments. Our other interesting encounter happened later. I left the group for a minute to find Katie, who was trying to get money. When I returned, a man and a woman were standing in front of the other three with two video cameras and a microphone. The man wore a Star of David around his neck. They were asking Heidi and Felicity about our ship and if we knew that our captain was giving orders to dump tons of oil in Vanuatu, destroying the ecosystem. We, of course, had heard nothing about this. I began to wonder if it was true, considering the strict rules and regulations that have to be followed in order to sail one of these ships. The man then pulled out a newspaper sheet, citing an article that proved what he said was true. I looked over his shoulder and noticed that it wasn’t an article at all: it was an excerpt from the letter column of a newspaper, which I would say is slightly more likely to be opinionated. It what they said was true, than it’s tragic and just wrong. But they can’t prove it, and they did a poor job in convincing me. But maybe I’m just being skeptical.
The archipelago of the country of Vanuatu consists of eighty-two separate islands, with a population somewhere around 182,000. The town of Port Vila is located on Efate Island, situated somewhere in the center of the grouping of islands. For a long time, parts of the islands were controlled by the British, and the others by the French. In 1906, the Germans were snatching quite a bit of the South Pacific, so the Brits and French decided to join together and put their flags side by side. This led to things like two languages (as well as the local dialects), two jails, two police forces, and so on. It wasn’t until 1980 that Vanuatu became independent.
We walked the forty minutes or so back to the ship for lunch. We were fortunate to get another tour, which left at 12:30. Pierre joined us, and we were the only ones on the tour. We pulled out of the harbor and headed inland towards the Cascading Waterfalls. There we met our guide named Ani (I assume that’s how he spelled it) who led us up the mountain, passing streams and naturally made swimming pools of clear water. We detoured to a beautiful lookout of the jungle below and the sea beyond. This was a tropical island. This is what I saw when I thought of the South Pacific. As we walked, I talked with Ani about the history of Vanuatu. He was a really cool island kinda guy, friendly and always smiling.
We finally came to our destination. In the middle of the trees was a series of short waterfalls and pools. Stairs had been carved into the stone leading up to them. This was a really cool place to swim. There were caves in the some of the rocks and ledges from which to jump. I, of course, had to find the biggest one. One of the drop-offs was in the form a slide which led into one of the deeper pools. After several times of the usual feet-first, I began going down face-first. On the second run I kept my head a little too close to the face of the rock and right before I hit the water I banged my head incredibly hard against the smooth stone. I entered the water and everything seemed to be shaking and stumbling. I’m pretty sure I had a concussion. My head was pounding for the rest of the day. It still hurts a little bit. I sat still for a few minutes before we began walking back down. I decided not to surf down as I had planned.
Back down they had refreshments, such as fruit grown in the area. Seven or eight guys played guitars and drums and other instruments and sang island songs. We then hopped back in the bus and headed back to the boat. I sat on the edge of my bed for a little while, trying to let my head settle. I went up to the gym and ran a hard fifteen minutes, which didn’t exactly settle my headache. Rich wanted me to go see the doctor, but it would’ve have been really expensive and I was feeling a little better.
“I was stumbling a little bit earlier,” I said, “but now I think it’s just the boat.”
“Uh, well, the boat’s not moving,” Rich said.
Dinner was Italian, and it was really good. The four of us then went to one of the rooms and played a few rounds of Clue before going to the 10 o’clock showing of Mission: Impossible III. Then, I went to bed.

My alarm went off at 8:30 this morning, but I shut it off and slept another hour and twenty minutes. I took a shower and walked around a few minutes. It was raining up on deck, so I went back to the room and relaxed. A little before 12 I got some lunch and met Heidi, Darren, and Felicity in my room to watch Munich. Derek joined us. That movie is one of my favorites. This is when film isn’t entertaining, but it’s important to watch. It’s actually pretty depressing, and now my head hurts even more.
I sat on my bed for a little while, attempting to wish away my headache. Eventually, when it didn’t leave, I got up and went to the gym to run. I ran for thirty minutes at a pretty fast pace. The good thing about a treadmill is setting a good pace, because if you can’t keep up, you get shot off the thing. I broke a good sweat, so I was happy.
For awhile we flipped through the channels and then it was time for dinner. It was formal night, so I transformed in James Bond again, except I let Greer borrow my tie, so I went open-necked, which is infinitely more comfortable. Sachin was accommodating as usual, and the Beef Wellington was delicious. The four of us retired to the card corridor and I was taught a new game entitled Cards. We then went to the Pacific Show Lounge for what was the last show called “G’Day G’Day”, a sort of tribute to Australians and New Zealanders. It was a lot less shady than the others, and I really enjoyed it.
The rest of the evening has been a little of this and that. I went walking around for awhile. Katie and I went out on the deck and talked about life, the trip, people on the trip, people not on the trip, and so on. It was a really good conversation and it was very nice outside. The champagne fountain was in the Bordeaux Restaurant where we have dinner. A mountain of glasses was filled as bottles were poured over them. At the moment, I am sitting in the card corridor with Felicity who is scrapbooking. We have been joined by Chesley and Troy, who is the Assistant Cruise Director or something like that. In his late twenties, this Canadian joined the army at 17 and fought in Kosovo in ’98-’99. Of the 151 countries in the world (the number Troy gave), he’s been to over 100 of them, and he’s 26 years old. I was a little jealous. He then went to music school (he’s part of the jazz trio onboard) and has been the music director at Dollywood. He’s now working on the cruise ship and will be doing so for a few more months until his house is paid off. He bought us drinks (non-alcoholic drinks), so that was cool.
We get to set our clocks back an hour tonight. Another hour of sleep!

November 11th, 2006 Bridgewater Apartments, Brisbane, Australia
Derek joined us in room 6027 because Kevin Larey suddenly became very sick and subsequently barfed all over the room. That’s not a good feeling at all, and not a good smell, which is probably why Derek moved out. Darren, Derek, and I stayed up into the wee hours discussing doing the right thing no matter what and how interesting it is that some people decided to choose the dumbest things as their source of fun. It is a sad and confusing world in which we live.
My alarm sounded at 9:30 and I shut it off to sleep a bit more. I didn’t awake for another two hours. And it was glorious. It was purely an accident, and I wasn’t complaining. I was up in time to go with Darren, Heidi, and Felicity to the Bordeaux Restaurant for lunch. We sat with two older ladies and a boisterous couple (well, I should say the lady was boisterous) in their 50s or 60s. They were all from Australia and had traveled extensively in the Americas, Europe, and Australasia. They were all certainly well-to-do, because their traveling experiences seemed to be a little bit on the more comfortable side. They were all very pleasant and we had an enjoyable meal talking and laughing. We discussed American politics and what they describe as the “psychotic Republicans and the crazy Democrats.” I think we all agreed (at least I and our Australian friends) that we should get rid of all of them and start over.
We continued are never-ending card-playing (which I admit I now enjoy doing) and then returned to one of the rooms to watch North Country, a fictionalized account of the first successful lawsuit filed by a woman against her employers at a mining company for sexual harassment. It was depressing movie, well-made, but one that made me mad. People refusing to stand up for what’s right ticks me off, and I also wanted to beat the snot out of some of the miners.
After the movie I went to the gym and ran hard for twenty minutes. I had fifteen minutes to get ready, so hopped in and out of the shower, barely getting wet, and arrived just in time. It was actually fairly sad. These meals, and our wonderful waiter Sachin, have been very enjoyable. I was, however, ready to get off the boat. Concussions and swaying don’t go well together. The rocking had been especially severe and I was feeling somewhat nauseous. As we finished and said farewell to our Indian friend, we once again returned to the card corridor on the 8th level and played more cards. We then turned to Clue, which I finally won, and on my first guess.
At 10, in the Pacific Show Lounge, was a talent show, and our friend Darren was taking part. He sang “Come Sail Away” by Styx, and it was absolutely hilarious! It was an electrifying performance, with the usually quiet and self-contained Darren bursting out of his shell and he held the crowd in the palm of his hand. He was the only one who received a standing ovation. An older gentleman did an excellent job with Frank Sinatra’s classic “My Way.” I’m not a big fan of this song: it’s pretty individualistic, and very American in its point of view. I’m not sure we’re supposed to do things “my way.” It could be argued that God’s way is my way, but I think there are a few things in the lyrics which contrast with this. Change some of the words, and it could be a very meaningful song.
I watched karaoke for a few minutes before getting sick of it. I can only take so much horridness. And I felt like I was wasting my life, so I left. I walked up on deck and stood in the dark. The moon was visible through a translucent cloud covering, turning one area of the darkness into silver. Ahead of us I could see the small lights of the coast of Australia.

The morning came early. I got up a little after 6:30 and got my things ready. We had sent our suitcases out the night before, so we didn’t have that to worry about. I forewent a shower and went to eat a few croissants for breakfast. The usual four of us went to the Starlight Lounge and played cards until our card color (gold) was called on the loudspeaker. It took a few minutes to pass through security and find our bags, but we were soon outside and on the bus once again.
It was nice to be on solid ground once again, and I was glad to be at the apartments. We arrive before 10, so we still had the whole day left. Laundry was first on the list, because my plastic bag was stuffed full and it was nasty. The stink is rotating in the washer as I write.
I’m not sure what the rest of this day will hold. I’m feeling a nap and a movie maybe. One week from today, I will in Jellico, Tennessee, the United States, on the other side of the world. Wow.

Back in Brisbane

November 3rd, 2006 Bridgewater Apartments, Brisbane, Australia
It felt really good to get nine hours of sleep. I got up at twenty after 8, feeling fairly rested. I went to the basement to recover the large piece of luggage I had left while we were out gallivanting through….everywhere. A little surprise awaited us outside the door of the storage room: it had been broken into while we were traveling. Some people’s belongings were strewn all over the cement and bags had been opened. Someone had found their way into the locked storage room and ransacked several bags. Cara’s computer had been taken, and a few items were relocated into others’ bags. Mine was slightly open, but it had been packed that way, and nothing had been taken. They could’ve taken the computer for all I cared, because it’s a piece of junk. But, they didn’t, so I still have this deadweight. The police were called, and they basically did nothing. They weren’t very helpful at all, and unfortunately I seriously doubt anything will be recovered. The bags we are leaving behind during the cruise will not be left here.
I ran along the familiar path beside the river to Griffith University and back. It was good to be on known turf, although searching out places to run as I ran while we traveled was pretty exciting. It was considerably warmer running here, since summer is the in-season right now, as compared to Mt. Cook where my rear end froze off.
After a cleansing shower, I sat down with a borrowed computer and an external hard-drive and spat out a three-page extra credit paper for Psychology. I am still uncertain as to whether or not I actually need it, but why not be on the safe side? That’s all I’m saying. It’s entitled “Nature and Nurture in the McRay Family.” It discusses the ways I am alike and unlike my parents, and how these traits can be attributed to nature (the way I am) or nurture (the way I have been influenced to be). It was a pretty intriguing study, I must say.
I spent some time packing my things and making sure everything was in order. I headed across the river into the city for awhile to buy a bag of apples for my meals. Brisbane is a great city, and I really think I’m going to miss it. It’s nice having a large metropolis right across the river from you. When we come back after the cruise for a day or two, I’m just going to roam.
Because there was nothing better to do (and even if there was, we probably still would have done it, because it’s just that good), Will, Derek, Darren, Anna Justus, and I watched The Fellowship of the Ring once again. It was just as good as it was the first time, and the subsequent million times. Insert satisfactory sigh here. Moving on.
I actually think I went to bed soon afterwards. It was only a little after 10, but boy did that bed look inviting.

I awoke this morning (on my own volition, mind you) at fifteen past 8 and went running. It’s a good way to start off the day, actually. I may be tired by the end of it, but it’s good to be outside and to feel like you’re aiding in keeping your arteries unclogged. The other night at Sizzler’s, Cara asked me, very randomly, if I used to be fat. I told her I didn’t think so and made no effort to disguise my confusion about the question.
“Well, I was just wondering because you’re always eating very healthy and you’re always running. You’re very toned, and I was just curious if you had some complex about being fat.”
I will admit this was very strange, but I was flattered, nonetheless. I think this falls under the category of nurture. Mom and Dad: I’ve learned well.
At 10, we met on the patio of the Littles’ apartment and Pam ran through the itinerary of the cruise and what we will need before we head out and such and such. It’s safe to say that this is going to be pretty amazing. Every evening dinner will be served in the main restaurant and most nights “formal attire” will be worn. I tried my slacks and shirt and sports coat on yesterday, and I felt very James Bond-esque. The long hair and beard don’t really matter. Other nights “smart casual attire” will be required. I had to ask for the definition of this phrase, because I was pretty sure my idea was different than what Pacific Star Cruise’s is. And it was. So I’m good to go now.
I spent some time surfing the web and just hanging out. Around lunch time, I headed into Brisbane once again. Felicity came as well. I was really hungry, so I got a kebab at the usual joint. Felicity needed to pick up pictures for her scrapbook for International Studies (this blog is taking care of that for me) and shoes for her dress on the cruise. I wanted to find another hooded sweatshirt, because I basically wear the same one all the time. Everything was so expensive, and I’m cheap, so I didn’t buy anything. The good news is that one of my cards is working once again, so I do have money with which to be cheap.
I believe I have mentioned that I have been contracted (without pay) to do a few drawings for Will’s scrapbook. I returned to the one of Australia I had begun several weeks ago and did some touchups, and will probably do so again. It’s been some time since I’ve engaged that particular artistic side, so I’m a bit rusty. Hopefully it will look all right in the end.
To continue the festivities of last night, Will and I (along with Pierre and Derek and various points) popped in The Two Towers. Good movie. I’ll leave it at that.
I was sitting outside the Byram’s apartment (which is now where the Common Room was, and is where the signal for the Internet is the strongest) browsing through my many pictures when Dr. Byram informed me that my mother was on Skype. It had been several weeks since I had actually spoken to them, so it was really good. My brother was just waking up to go to school and greeted me with a “You’re a moron.” I was able to sign up for classes next semester as we spoke. As of right now, I am taking Western Civ. from 1500 (I took the first part my first semester at Harding), Advanced Composition, American Literature, Vocal Performance, and Living World Religions. Either Advanced Comp. or American Lit. will be dropped, but it seemed wise to ensure that I was in both before deciding which one I will keep.
These two days have been a nice debriefing period. Tomorrow, the southern seas will wave before us and we will set sail on what is to be one of the final legs of our three-month journey. Slowly and surely this adventure is drawing to an end.

PS It will be some time before I am able to update, because the Internet on the cruise is via satellite and ridiculously expensive. So, it could be a few. Oh yeah, and the picture is the view leaving New Zealand. Not too shabby.

Pictures of New Zealand

The Many Wonders of New Zealand

October 29th, 2006 Edgewater Hotel, Te Anau, New Zealand
I know I sound like a broken record every time I write because I repeat this phrase quite often: today I saw some of the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen.
We awoke early (nothing new there) and had breakfast next door. It was raining, which followed us for most of the day. I actually enjoy this kind of weather, so it wasn’t a very disheartening situation from my perspective. It gave everything a calm mood. We left the comforting confines of Queenstown and set out for more escapades.
I was pretty tired, having averaged around four-and-a-half hours the last several nights. That’s not exactly healthy or desired, so I found myself dozing quite a bit during our drive this morning. The trip was pretty long, but broken up along the way to relieve exploding bladders. We stopped on the shore of a lake in a little town called Te Anau where we would be spending the night. It was still a couple of hours to our destination of the day, so after a cup of coffee and a visit to the boys’ (or girls’) room, we continued. Then we came to the real stuff. We entered valley after valley of moss-covered trees surrounded by dramatic snow-capped mountains, lined with strings of waterfalls. We stopped at a swift-flowing stream, called Monkey Creek, which is supposed to be one of the purest in the world, and it was good.
A few minutes down the road was the Chasm. A short walk through the magical trees brought us to a bridge over a fast river which plunged into a gap in the rocky floor. Years of erosion had brought about this slim abyss.
And then we came to the main goal. It was the stunning Milford Sound. A long collection of bays connected towards the ocean. These were bordered by three-covered mountains like those we had seen earlier in the day. Instead of snow, the summits were laden with mist. We boarded a boat and set out on a cruise around these inlets, sailing beneath the magnificent splendor completely engulfing us. We had lunch onboard and I then climbed to the top deck to be alone in this mystical world. At every turn, in every direction, the green mountains were embraced by that faultless gray and white haze with the cascades appearing from the midst of it. The deck soon became too crowded, so I went to the bow, which was empty. A pleasant wind swept across the water, moving the mist with it, creating more unique pictures. It is times like these when it seems God is so apparent, when it seems the proof is right before our eyes. Doubt is present so many times, it is refreshing to have these times of comfort, when faith is not necessarily strengthened, but it is encouraged. The spray from the waterfalls came into my face and I wrapped my brown jacket tighter around me and closed my eyes. But only briefly, because the Milford Sound was too compelling to keep my eyelids down for long. One of the best hikes in the world is here, a three-day journey. Someday, I want to return and climb all over these misty mountains. I felt a strong urge to ditch the bus and hide aboard the boat to lengthen this experience as long as I could. These words are entirely inadequate and insufficient and every other word that has to do with standards unmet to capture the beauty and majesty and mythical essence of this place. Milford Sound has soared near the top of my list of places visited. I’ve said that about a lot of places in New Zealand. I think New Zealand may just have to be viewed as a whole, because it’s getting difficult to differentiate.
I was in a daze on the drive back to Te Anau. This was partly due to the awesomeness I had seen, and also because I was really darn tired. We stopped once more at the Chasm, but I stayed on the bus to rest. I did get off at Mirror Lakes and at Eglinton Valley, a vast plain of tall grass with snow-covered peaks on running beside it on either side. I thought of the plains of Rohan in Middle-earth and of the Three Hunters racing across to rescue their diminutive friends.
The rain had begun again while we were on the boat, but it was a light shower. By the time we arrived in Te Anau it had become a thundering downfall. Edgewater Hotel is, as its name implies, on the edge of the water of the lake. Ashley, Pierre, and I were put in Room 12. They’re nice quarters, with a small kitchen and two rooms. Malcolm drove us into town where we were set loose to eat. Katie, Felicity, and I found a little Chinese place where we were joined by Lily and Heather. I ate Sesame and Honey Chicken while listening to songs from musicals and Disney movies, as well as the theme from Titanic, played by Chinese instruments. It was pouring down rain when I walked the few blocks back to the hotel. I was suitably soaked when I walked through the door.
At 8, we met in the Littles’ room for communion and a short worship service. It was good to come together like that and sing. I led the prayer at the end and had a difficult time getting through it. Three of Morgan’s close friends were killed in a car accident yesterday, hit by a young drunk driver, who was also killed. Two girls are in a hospital in Memphis, one of whom is in an intentionally-induced coma. The parents of the drunk driver are with the other families. I don’t understand why these things happen; it’s just the world we live in. I hope those people involved and those affected can be brought together and brought closer to God through this pain and sorrow.
Pierre, Ashley, and I downed a few cups of coffee and watched Flight of the Phoenix on T.V. Tomorrow we head for Mt. Cook, where we will be staying in chalets at the base. This wide world in which we live can be such an ugly, cruel, and terrible place, but it can also be a place of pure beauty and splendor.

October 30th, 2006 The Chalets of the Hermitage, Mt. National Park, New Zealand
I felt a strong disinclination to pull myself from between those incredibly warm sheets and the comfortably soft mattress. But I did. We drove down the road to the Te Anau Villas and ate a continental breakfast, which is basically fruits, cereals, and breads. I had watermelon and oranges and that was about it. I was able to check my email for the first time in a few days where I read that my great-grandmother, Granny Oakley, had just passed away. It’s been on my mind all day. A part of me certainly wishes to be there with my family and attend the funeral. She was such a kind and giving lady and now I wish I had been able to spend more time with her. It makes me realize how finite life really is, and I think of all things I want to do and places I want to go and the person I want to become. I spoke with Rich this evening about A New Kind of Christian (which, in the first few chapters, definitely has me thinking and reminds me very much of conversations I have had and feelings I have felt) and of the move from a modern theology to a postmodern theology and of the diversity in faith even on this group. Rich said, “If everyone who attends my funeral is just like me then I have failed.”
From Te Anau we drove to Arrowtown, which was once a gold-mining settlement. The main street looked like something from a Western, lined with over sixty wooden buildings from the 1800s. Ashley and I walked around a little while before finding a café in which a very delicious plate of fish and chips was served. Anna Justus soon came bursting in and said an absolutely wonderful thing: “Someone found Dr. Pepper!”
For some reason, the three countries we’ve visited on this trip haven’t realized the importance of the sweet nectar that is Dr. Pepper. Down the street in the Remarkable Sweet Shop I found a can of the stuff. I’ve heard God had his hand in directly creating two liquids: water……..and Dr. Pepper. And it tasted good. And I was happy. I then walked around and found the stream in which all the gold was found. Somewhere in this area was where part of the scene in which Arwen rides to escape the Black Riders. I attempted to jump across the stream, but missed the other side by just a little bit and my right leg was completely soaked. Not cool. My second attempt in jumping across, to get back to the right side, went well, though.
Aside from reading a few chapters, I slept most of the drive today. It was actually very pleasant. My eyes wouldn’t stay open, so I didn’t force them to do anything they didn’t really want. At one point we were stopped for about thirty minutes because of a blast on the side of the mountains. A few of us exited the bus and tossed around the football next to a large field of vineyards. At around 5:30, we arrived in Mt. Cook National Park, and to the Hermitage. We were staying in the chalets which overlooked the valley and Mt. Cook. New Zealander Sir Edmund Hillary, the first man to climb Mt. Everest, used Mt. Cook as practice. The chalets are triangular-shaped structures with the roofs reaching to the ground. I’m in one with the Four Musketeers: Ashley, Kevin, Greer, and Patrick. We had dinner in the restaurant of the Hermitage. The lasagna was incredible, and the banana pudding wasn’t half bad either.
I then went for a run. I wore my long-sleeve Duke t-shirt and shorts and I was freezing. The sun was beginning to set and the snow on Mt. Cook glowed orange and red. I went down the hill and through the expansive plain, covered in that same beautiful grass of green and pale brown that I have seen everywhere else. The ground was uneven, but soft and you just can’t pass up running on that stuff. Splitting the ground in two was what looked like a dried river bed, populated with jagged rocks. And I had to run on that also. I came to a series of hills, and on the top of one was a stone monument dedicated to those who have died from climbing the surrounding mountains. It would be a beautiful place to go, though. I ran to a lookout down the path, and I heard a symphony rising from the valley below. It was the Hooker River, racing from the lake of the same name. Behind it was Mt. Cook, joining to ranges on either side. There were no signs of civilization in that direction. It was pure nature, and the air was pure and everything was pure and clean and pristine. To the right the mountains, black and white, marched into the distance. The lights of the Hermitage were behind me, nestled against another series of mountains, reminiscent of Rivendell. The road we drove on disappeared into the wide gap between the mountains. The ranges to my right had been used as the backdrop for the great city of Minas Tirith in The Lord of the Rings. Standing on that little hill looking around me was such an incredible moment of tranquility and beauty. It was humbling. I was freezing my rear end off, but I didn’t care. I was alone, surrounded by the most incredible forms of nature. It was becoming dark, so I ran back across the plain to the warmth of the chalets.
I’m running out of good descriptive words to use about New Zealand, so I may sound like a broken record at times. But I can’t help it. This country has drained it all out, because everything is worth talking about. So bear with me on that. We don’t leave here until 12 tomorrow, so that give plenty of time to hike around and I’m sure there will be more to illustrate.

October 31st, 2006 YMCA, Christchurch, New Zealand
I got up at a little after 7 and packed my bags. Check-out time was 10, and I didn’t think I would be back by then. I went up to the Hermitage for breakfast, along with Felicity, who would be accompanying me on the hike. Will followed on the same path we took, which was called the Red Tarns. We walked down the road to where the path began by way of a bridge crossing a river. The way then became a steep wooden staircase heading up the side of the mountain. It was a pretty good little hike. Before us was green in all directions, and behind us lay the plain hemmed in by Mt. Cook and its adjoining ranges. I think it took around forty-five minutes to reach the summit of the walk. It ended in a little dirt path that encircled two crystal clear ponds, in which the reflection of the snowy mountains appeared. Felicity had an urge to touch snow, but the closest path was across the side of the mountain, far off the marked path. So……we went off the marked path.
This is hiking. It was bushwhacking. There were no signs of paths or of previous visitors besides places where the grass had been bent into narrow goat paths, which I tried to follow as closely as possible. The ground was soft beneath our feet as we wove between shrubs and over mounds. At times we slid down gravel embankments, carefully avoiding a landslide. I went in front, forging the safest road I possibly could, telling Felicity that if I fell through a hole and died not to go that way. And it almost happened, too. I was walking down a moss-covered ravine when all of a sudden my foot broke through and both feet dangled into some nothingness beneath me. My hands instinctively shot out and grabbed hold of the edge on either side to ensure I didn’t fall through. I was pretty excited.
We continued surfing down rock cliffs and at times we were forced to leap across streams. Some of them were pretty wide and one bank was much shorter than the other. That’s what made this path exciting: there was no particular path. We made our own. Before us, snaking down a wide ridge, was snow which abruptly ended into a fierce-flowing river, which we had crossed by bridge at the beginning of our journey. I felt very happy, jumping from bank to bank, crawling up and down hills, sliding across rock walls, repelling by vines. My chivalric nature caused to pause at times and curb my adrenaline rushed to check and see if Felicity was still alive. But she was barreling along also and pretty much had no trouble with the rough terrain. We finally dropped into the riverbed, which was populated by large stones being beaten by the clear, melted snow. For some stupid reason I didn’t bring any sort of time-telling device, and the sun was blocked by the mountains so I couldn’t adequately tell the time by using my hands either (if you know what time the sun sets, you hold your hands front of you, one on top of the other, with your fingers pointing sideways, from the horizon to the sun; each hand is an hour, and it’s amazing how accurate this method can be). The bus would be pulling out at 12 and I didn’t want to late. The snow was still quite a ways up the mountain and I wasn’t confident that we could make it there and back again in time. So, I threw off my camera and jacket and went running up the riverbed to retrieve a handful of snow. And I wanted to bury my face in it, because it’s quite refreshing. The closer I got to the snow, however, it seemed to move upwards, away from me. After several minutes of flat-out racing, I just felt that I wouldn’t be able to get there, grab snow, and be back down the river in a fast enough amount of time. I returned, my head hanging in shame, without any snow in my hands. I asked if this could be one of those times when it was the thought that counts.
We began our descent along the rapids, cautiously moving around boulders and hopping from one side of the water to the other. When we finally came to a flat stretch, we went into a brisk walk, soon exiting the canyon beside the bridge from which we had originally started. The sign posted in front of the canyon said “Dangerous Passage: No Entry.” We lived to tell the tale. I can’t think of many better ways to see a place than to forge your own path through the mountains.
It was only a quarter past 11 when we came into the Hermitage, but I’m glad we didn’t risk it. At 12 we boarded the bus and pulled away, driving through the gap in the mountains to Glentanner, where we had eaten lunch on our journey south from Christchurch, and where would be eating it once again going north. The heel of foot had been worn raw from not wearing another layer of socks during the hike at Queenstown, and now my left knee, which acts up every now and then from a basketball injury, began throbbing. The cramped seating on the bus didn’t really help. I’ve been limping pretty significantly all day.
I stayed away as much as I could during our long drive back to Christchurch, but the little sleep and draining physical activity was beginning to take its toll on me and I dozed off for some time. We arrived in Christchurch and to the YMCA which we had previously stayed at around supper time and ate in the cafeteria. All ten guys are in Room 202, the same quarters we had before, and I am once again in the same bed. Anna, Lily, and I walked through town for a little while, looking for gifts and the like. At 8, we had a Halloween party. A lot of people dressed up in makeshift costumes. I must say that Darren’s was the best. He wore a red-and-white striped sweater and a cap with a ball on the tip, the spitting image of the illusive character from “Where’s Waldo?” I went as myself, which I’m pretty good at. I was told I should be a male model (as opposed to…..?) for L.L. Bean. It’s the brown jacket and beard.
A game of Charades was begun, and Patrick, Pierre, Will, and I took on a much larger number of girls, and we were really darn good. I think our fastest time at guessing was seven seconds. But the girls do get credit: they did a very, very admirable job with the ridiculous skits we created for them. We were downright jerks at times, and we liked it.
Tomorrow, we leave New Zealand. And I’m not looking forward to it. It will be nice to have a few days of rest and relaxation in Brisbane, but I could definitely do that here. I’ve felt peace and quiet here. It’s amazing what fresh air and gorgeous scenery will do for the mind.
I think a few people are watching Tim Burton’s Sleepy Hollow, with Johnny Depp, upstairs to continue the festivities of this weird “holiday.” I think I’ll join them. If my knee’s feeling any better in the morning I’m going to run. The exercise never stops. Unless, of course, I can’t use my left knee.

November 1st, 2006 Bridgewater Apartments, Brisbane, Australia
My knee was feeling better in the morning, but I decided to skip on a run and sleep twenty more minutes. I forced myself out of the bed 8 and Anna, Ashley, and I walked downtown. Across from the Excelsior Hotel was a Men’s Hair Salon and Tobacconist. On a rack behind the counter was a foot-long pipe, exactly what I had wanted to find. It may be the coolest one I own. I believe I have explained my hobby of collecting pipes. I’m sure the people I’ve bought these pipes from think something which isn’t exactly the reality. Here’s a guy in beat-up, worn-out clothing with a scraggly beard and shaggy hair buying pipes. Pretty interesting.
At 10 we loaded the bus and drove to the Antarctic Centre. The administration and warehousing headquarters for the U.S., New Zealand, and Italian Antarctic programs are stationed in this complex in Christchurch. The museum was filled with exhibits of life on that freezing continent, including video footage and a room set at well below 0º Fahrenheit. A storm swept through, allowing us to experience what it would be like to actually live on Antarctica. I’d love to visit someday.
We went on a Hägglund Antarctic Snowmobile ride. These off-road vehicles were like miniature tanks. Our driver was an older gentleman in blue overalls and a black baseball cap, and he told us about the vehicle over headsets as we drove on an outdoor adventure course. We sped over steep hills and around holes, flying through the air. We drove into a large pool of water and the vehicle became a sort of boat. I’d love to visit the bases in Antarctica someday.
A frustrating thing occurred while I was trying to purchase food at the centre. I found that none of my cards (my debit card of my travel card) would work, which therefore means that I have no money at all. This is not good. It’s left me in a little bit of a stressed state, and it part of the reason why I was in a bit of a peeved mood at points during the day. The other reason might have been that we were leaving New Zealand. I wasn’t ready to go. I was ready to have a few days of relaxation, but I wanted to have them in New Zealand.
We went to the airport and said goodbye to Malcolm, once again going through the familiar routine of check-ins and security. New Zealand has $25 departure fee, and I was forced to borrow this sum from Dr. Byram, seeing as how I was broke. Our flight was delayed for some time, so I found myself visiting with a contractor from Queensland about studying, Australian and New Zealand cuisine, and life in general. Nice guy.
As the plane lifted from the ground, I felt sad. I watched as the snow-topped mountains began to sink into the distance and soon we had flown all the way over the width of the South Island and that idyllic and magical land was gone into the expanse of the sea. As far as I’m concerned, I’m going back someday. I miss it already.
The flight was uneventful, except that the movie shown was Pirates of the Caribbean 2. How cool is that? In case you’re wondering, that’s pretty darn cool. Three hours later, we landed in Brisbane. Customs and security went smoothly. It was the easiest time I’ve ever had coming into Australia. I guess it was because I didn’t have some big sword sticking out of a bag. It was pretty warm outside and I was beginning to long for that cool, crisp mountain air. Dinner was at Sizzler’s. You can’t go very wrong with buffets. The surprise of the night was Heather Little’s best friend, Amy, flying over and showing up at the restaurant before us. Heather was completely in the dark about the whole thing and she seemed pretty amazed.
As we drove across the Story Bridge and saw the lights of Kangaroo Point below, it seemed strangely like coming home. We once again climbed the three flights to suite 3019 and I returned to my same bed in the far left room in the back, beside the balcony. It was the cleanest I’ve ever seen the apartment, except when we first arrived two months ago. Laundry was a beautiful thing. It’s nice to know we don’t have to go anywhere for a few days. But, I will be busy. I have packing and rearranging things to worry about, as well as getting this money thing sorted out, and trying to get Internet access, and I’m supposed to be drawing for Will’s scrapbook. And I think we’re going to have a Lord of the Rings marathon. And I think I’m going to write an extra credit paper for Psychology, just to be safe. Oh yeah, and last but not least: a lot of stinkin’ sleep.