10/09/11
About a month ago, I decided to make a drastic change in my life. I am accustomed to moving and traveling to different cities. This is just on a grander scale. In January 2011, after 6 years of living in Myrtle Beach, SC, I decided I needed a change. I had grown weary of my job and quite complacent with my surroundings. Myrtle Beach is a fantastic place during the summertime, and the exact opposite during the winter, the only bright spots of the winter season are the “free pours”.
Lot of the same places, same people, same (some, not all) forced interactions; after college, there just wasn’t anything keeping me there anymore. I felt a calling to leave, to branch out, as I usually do. I’ve never been one for conformity and my lifestyle has never entertained the “American Dream” ideal. I just want to experience as much as possible and be happy.
I chose Austin, Texas for a few reasons. Mainly, because I had been there before and had a blast during SXSW (a music festival; where over 3000 bands play in the span of a week) but also because it was a big city and the University of Texas is there. So that left me with lots of options both for employment and enjoyment. Not in the New York, Los Angeles category of big city. Big enough that I could possibly find a “real” job and see what big city life would be like.
I remained there for 6 months and have no complaints what so ever. Except for the fact that the people of Texas only believe in “the Texas way” of all things and they won’t deter nor believe that things are done any other way in the world. That was a bit annoying, but the people I came in contact with and the experiences there as a whole were amazing! I guess I could say I always knew it would happen, I told my Dad before I left that I gave myself 1-2 years maximum and would eventually head back to the coast unless there was an incredible job opportunity. Neither came to fruition and went in another direction.
I have always felt at peace around the ocean. Big surprise, I know, but the salt water just cleanses everything as if it were washing away any doubt or worries in your day. The people are much more relaxed, less judgmental and usually friendly. I missed it. I didn’t miss Myrtle at all although I did miss my friends, I just missed living by the beach in general. I missed being able to ride my bike down to the water equipped with just my chair, iPod, whatever book I was reading and the Frisbee….just in case. I knew Austin was a great place to live and I plan on returning, just as a residential area, I felt there was more.
Enter Matthew Mendelssohn. Matt has/had aspirations of playing rugby for Team USA, Google it, they do exist. Matt had decided to go over to New Zealand that same January and play a season in one of the 3 greatest countries of the sport. Our situations are incredibly different but we find a common ground in our love for exploring new places and interacting with new people, learning about new cultures, as well as finding other “squirrel activities” and mischief we can get into along the way.
We had Skyped back and forth for a few months and I could tell that the trip was discerning him. I think he is happy he went and gained the experience and gotten better at his craft, but I could tell in his voice that he missed home. That he missed that familiarity. That his trip wasn’t exactly panning out the way he had planned.
Then he started to tell me of this epic road trip he had planned. How he was going to drive a friend’s car all the way from Auckland in the North Island to Wanaka, towards the southern tip of the South Island. Stopping in every major city, with free places to stay in all but one city, bottles and bottles of our ol’ buddy Jim Beam, and at the end staying with his snowboard instructing friend in his cabin on the mountain, which all sounded like a terrible 80’s movie to me….obviously, I was all in at that point.
I made the change of all changes. The decision others only dream of and few even consider. I uprooted myself from Austin within a 10 day period. Got a visa to work, bought 2 plane tickets, closed out my accounts, leased my apartment and drove the rest of my possessions 20 straight hours back to my sister Holly’s house in North Carolina. All to quench a wanderlust that has plagued me for most of my life. The want for something new, the need for something fresh, the desire for anything exciting and unknown.
I arrived in New Zealand, alone. Scary at first, but still exhilarating! My phone had died. The outlets in the South Pacific are completely different and incompatible with my American PC, all I had was the cash I brought with me and the name of the town, Silverdale. So I leave the plane and hop right through customs to the exchange booth, upon which I receive roughly $150 more than I brought because at this time the economy had our US dollar valued at $.82/dollar. Couple questions to the locals and a $16 bus ticket later and I’m on my way to Auckland.
Keep in mind I in no way advise this tactic for one reason, Kiwi’s are a lovely race of people, however they have NO sense of direction. That’s rule number 1 for traveling to New Zealand. Never ask a Kiwi for directions, either look it up or find it yourself. The 2 most discouraging things you can hear when you step off a plane into a country you’ve never been to are: 1) “Wow, you’re nowhere close (from your destination)” or 2) “Enter City Name Here, I’ve never heard of that”. That’s just an example; there are several more details of dodgy directions from other stories.
After talking to several bus drivers, coffee shops and pedestrians, I found myself in the bus station talking to the information desk. Who (was not a kiwi) drew me a map to where the bus stop I needed was. Which was a huge relief because a Kiwi’s favorite lines for directions seem to be, “O mate, just got down, take a left and hop on the bus” (several bus stops on every street, pointless jabber). If it’s not in Auckland, don’t even bother, because the Aucklanders only know Auckland and they don’t really know that very well, just the popular streets.
I’m not sure if it was because of my obvious Americanism (I CANNOT pull off any other, apparently I absolutely scream American on sight alone) but instead of just saying “No, we don’t know”, everyone talks to you like they have a direct link with Garmen. I chalked it up to them being Jafas (People living outside of Auckland use this acronym to describe Aucklanders) or they were just trying to get rid of the silly American (fairly common practice in most countries). Complete toss up.
I ride the bus all the way to my destination, the Happy Kiwi Café. Luckily I sat next to a nice lady on the bus who happened to give me a detailed tour as we were riding and helped me find the place once I arrived in Silverdale. There I met Maria, our surrogate Tongan mother. She fed me, without expecting compensation and gave me a ride to the flat that Matt lived in. She is a saint and is the only reason I ate in New Zealand for probably 3 weeks.
After getting to Matt’s I find a note. Very “Shawshank” esque, “well Red, you’ve made it this far, perhaps you’re willing to come a little further”. I was not. After all that travel (20 hr drive, plane ride to LA, plane ride to NZ, being lost walking and 45 minutes of bus) I had no intentions on getting on another bus to go to Matt’s work. It was naptime. I just needed to be stationary for a second, I was wearing thin.
I awoke to a very bizarre feeling. It was almost as if it had been a dream and I woke up with the immediate anxiety of “Holy crap, I just flew across the world for no other reason than I wanted to travel”. Too late for that chatter brain, time to go exploring the new digs so I walked back down the Kiwi Café and caught a ride from an English guy named Merlin (I don’t make this stuff up, things like this happen to me).
I reached the café where Matt worked; while he was closing up shop, I went to get a phone and open a bank account. Then we went and had dinner at Maria’s house, I had my first job interview and topped off the night by watching some fire spinning.
Fairly productive first day across the world, it honestly felt like summer camp; between the 9pm “lights out” (Matt worked at the café and baked at 5am) and the ginger roommate (also Matt), it pretty much WAS summer camp. It was a long first day but the adventure had just begun, the next morning was the beginning of the road trip. Sporadic sleep was going to be a luxury if available, so at least 1 night of consistent sleep was just what I needed.
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