ramblings of the unstable

Beer light ON, Good judgement OFF

callasavary — Fri, 23 Apr 2010 20:16:00 GMT

For those that are concerned for my safety I apologize for my delay in posts. I have no excuse except that I am a lazy bastard. Thus, I have much to catch you all up on so let’s get started.

Ali and I spent our last night in Auckland attending a Rugby game. Essentially, take everything wrong with American Football and subtract it. You’re left with Rugby, a much more aggressive, dangerous and intense sport. Not to mention shorter as the play stops for nothing, not even the injured. Courtesy of the guys around us we began to grasp the rules and cheered on the hometown team who ultimately came out on top. Although like most good sporting events its not about whether you win or lose its about how drunk you get. A very attainable goal when the bar you’re at has 2 for 1 drink specials. The segments of memory that remain of that night are of me whipping out some ‘white boy meets crippled gorilla’ type dance moves, an unfortunate Lady Gaga impression followed by me telling various strangers I was a lesbian baby stealer from Vietnam. All of which very classy moments.

However, it was not without punishment as we rose to meet a hangover equivalent to the wrath of a million angry gods. Our bus to Waitomo left super early so we drunkenly packed our bags in the dark. A near impossible feat considering the room was a mess and I could see double of everything (How do I know which one to pack!?). Eventually, we staggered off to the bus station where I slept on the curb. The bus ride was 3 and a half hours but I only remember 5 minutes, all of them horrible. Once we had arrived at Waitomo and dragged ourselves off the bus the driver took one look at us and told us to stop drinking. We slumped away to the nearest hostel where a woman at the front desk subtly announced “Whoa you guys must be hungover!”(Really what gave it away?). Feeling o-so attractive I curled into the fetal position appearing to be on the verge of hospitalization and remained as such for the next 16 hours.

Seemingly, the following morning I rose from the dead feeling like a shiny new penny. Ali and I decided to embark on Waitomo’s main attraction: blackwater rafting through underground glowworm caves. Yes, it is as awesome as it sounds. Basically, once you get all sexified in the fashionable wetsuit, gumboots and flashlight helmet attire you journey on through farmland to an unassuming hole in the ground. Squeeze your way through the slim dark hole by way of a giant ladder (that’s what she said) and enter an amazing underground lair. Illuminated by flashlight, you witness a world of shattered rock formations creating winding tunnels to scour and broken walls to climb. Minerals collect on the ceilings of the cave and drip into hundreds of pointed rock formations seeming like bony fingers slowly reaching down towards you. A ways into the caves icy water lies, home to eels, sewer rats and other cuddly species of the sorts. Cringing, you uneasily enter the gasping cold water. Flashlights are turned off and fears soon forgotten as the cave ceiling glows with what looks like captured stars . Stars that are, in reality, glowworm poo. Moreover, the magnificent glowing poo lights your way as you climb aboard an inner tube and float seamlessly through massive dark tunnels. Regardless of its nature, the combination of the carnivorous jaw-like appearance of the cave and the thousands of brilliantly luminous little bulbs that decorate it is one of the most strangely beautiful things I have ever seen.

Emerging from the caves we were met with warm rays of sun and the realization that we had totally missed the bus to our next destination. After moderate stressing and the throwing down of some much needed cash we booked our escape and headed to Rotorua.

Our time in Rotorua was primarily spent absorbing its cozy laidback atmosphere. Finding a home away from home in our newly favorite hostel, Crash Palace. Underground reggae music floats through this funky hostel in a great location with an amazing staff and an army of friendly animals are there for you in your time of pet deprivation. A perfect place for us animal loving hippie types.

In between apple bongs at our stoners paradise we ventured out to attempt Zorbing. Which is basically a massive hamster ball for people. You climb into a huge plastic sphere and roll down a hill, a meter of air cushioning you from any harsh impact. Furthermore, you can choose for them to add water into your Zorb, the downside to which means you wont roll head over heels. Ultimately, Ali and I did not bring a bathing suit so we requested the dry option. Naturally, we must learn everything the hard way as the slight breeze that gently drifted over the hill made it “too windy” to dry Zorb safely. For this reason, we climbed in fully clothed and rolled down the hill sloshing around uncontrollably. Ali described it best, commenting “it was like being a sock in a washing machine.” Meaning we should all be very envious of our socks because it was a lot of fun. Of course the fun subsided once we were dripping wet and freezing at the bus stop, still it was completely worth it.

The final night we had in Rotorua was one of our favorite memories of the trip thus far. All of it spent hanging out with our awesome roommates. We were bunking with a couple of Scottish guys who made up the band ‘Project 6’ so they treated us to a live show. These boys are extremely talented so I recommend to all those whose eyes skim these words to look them up and give them a listen as it will be more then worth your time. It was a night of music, cheap wine and ridiculous youtube videos. Perfect in every right as it reminded us of what it was like to have a good group of friends around that you just effortlessly click with. Begrudgingly, the next morning we left our lovable hostel and new found friends for the next stop on our journey, Taupo.

TO BE CONTINUED…Now go check out Project 6 at: http://soundcloud.com/search?q%5Bfulltext%5D=project+6

Accidentally Illegal

callasavary — Fri, 2 Apr 2010 20:31:00 GMT

Nothing like 60 hrs of recycled air, random time changes and sleep deprivation to make you question your sanity. I survived though, with only minor incidents along the way. One of which: not locking the door to the washroom. Always fun being on a plane for 10 hrs with the person who just witnessed you squating sans pants in the midst of a less then attractive bodily function. The rest of the plane ride consisted of continous movie watching till my eyes were swollen and my brain felt in threat of an oncoming aneurysm. In the remaining hours of my journey I could feel the cabin fever set in. I got increasingly anxious and accused everything of being 'all up in my grill.' Luckily, the narcolepsy kicked in and I passed out before entirely breaking down and being deemed a threat to international security.

Instead, i awoke when the plane landed and was shuffled off the vessel and into the line for border security. Where I waited as an apparent felon as I unknowingly attempted to smuggle a very illegal apple into the country; a potential $200 fine. Which I dodged by giving up my newly acquainted life of crime and handing over the dangerous fruit to the proper authorities. I feel I made the right choice.

As a newly reformed woman I entered New Zealand. Welcoming the warm, humid air by slightly hyperventilating with relief. It was about 1 am when I made it to my hostel. Sweaty, tired and smelling of stale deoderant. To my dismay my roomates were sleeping which meant stumbling around a dark room till I found an uninhabited bed to drag myself into. 20 minutes later a crazy a person exploded through the door exclaiming "Calla! Calla are you here?!" In a volume that was more of a muffled shout then a whisper. "Ali?" I replied in a confused daze. BAM! Ali's body smashed against me as she flung herself up the bunk ladder and tackled me. The sweet smell of alcohol radiated off of her as she told me how plastered she was and how happy she was to see me. "Goddamnit Ali" I responded. It was a perfect reunion.

We currently reside in Auckland, or as I like to call it: 'Vancouver's siamese twin seperated at birth.' We've been taking it easy for the most part, sightseeing and such. Unfortunately, they have this crazy rule here where the bars can't serve liquor after midnight during Easter weekend. Total bummer and only results in everyone drinking on the streets consequently flooding the parks with innumerable beer bottles. Personally, I feel Jesus would be down with liquoring up on the weekend of his death. He died, that's sad. And alot of people drown their sorrows in alcohol, we shouldn't deprive people of their coping mechanism.

Alright, well i will write more when internets cheaper. Peace.

I'm Not There

callasavary — Tue, 30 Mar 2010 21:34:00 GMT

I've been living in and out of airports and airplanes for the last 30 odd hours of my life. It's not not much more then a blur of metal detectors and bouts of narcolepsy. So far the only thing thats had a solid sleep was my butt. Which fell asleep an hour into my second flight. Requiring serious lunges to revive and restore feeling to the area. Recently, I made the mistake of looking in the mirror, something I do not recommend if you haven't seen daylight in 2 days. I appeared as if I had set up camp in a mcdonalds dumpster where I was attacked by a flock of vicious seagulls and left on the side of the road to die. If you don't know what that looks like then let me break it down for you; I look like shit.

Anyways, this is my first time traveling alone which most people will tell you is an amazing journey of building self reliance and figuring out who you are. Thus, bringing me to my latest self revelation. Which is as soon , and I mean the moment, the pilot turns on the "seatbelt light" and the flight attendants make you stay in your seat is the moment when every last millilitre of liquid in my body absorbs into my bladder and I have to pee like my life depends on it. I am talking octo-mom pregnancy where 8 babies are seriously pushing on my bladder. Not sure if I was once subject to some sort of cruel Pavlov's dog experiment or if it's the "Always want what you can't have" rule gone biological. Whatever the reason it is officially my first step on the path to self discovery.

However, I must admit this whole traveling solo business isn't all fun and games. Once the fears of getting lost in the airport and ending up in Siberia subsided and the excitement of all my self revelation wore off. I realized, after tearing up when I spilled my tea and getting overly emotional when George Clooney suggest he light a backpack on fire in the movie 'Up In The Air,' that being alone isn't so much scary as it is sad.

Basically, you've got an infinite amount of hours to think about all the people you miss and no one to distract you from missing them. So yeah, all my friends and family you can feel proud of yourselves for being awesome and making me cry at insignificant parts of the inflight entertainment while wishing you could be here...assholes.

Well, as of now I am in Singapore for a night. Plan A was to stay in a hotel but then I got to the airport and let me tell you it is sweet living. It's simply a humongous vat of modern architecture interspliced with fancy stores and funky seating areas, featuring various amenities appealing to cheap bastards worldwide. I'm talking free internet, free movie, free tour of singapore and for about 20 bucks I have 5 hrs in a plush lounge with showers, gym access and unlimited free food and drinks. Of course, I'll be back in Singapore in 2 months where I will most definitely venture past the walls of this glass castle. Though, for now I'm on Plan B which is use all free things, abuse the airport rest areas and avoid the guards with big guns.