In a tragic turn of events, my small Canon Elf camera broke. For those of you who know my love of taking about a million photos a minute with that thing, you can understand my devastation. I almost jumped off the ferry I was on when it broke, just out of sheer depression.
However, Laura has kindly let me borrow her camera for photo taking until I purchase a new one. So hopefully the lapse will be short.
All of that to say, I've uploaded a ton of new photos in the "From Christchurch" album.
Enjoy!
Monday, March 31, 2008
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Barefoot in Sydney
We're in Sydney and it is beautiful. Like, seriously, such a cool city.
I've never walked as much in my life as I have the last two days getting around this city though. For reasons too complicated to try to explain in this space, we ended up at a hostel called Tokyo Village that is like 8 miles from anything. So we walk alot.
Yesterday we decided to go check out a few Sunday markets and then catch a ferry over to the nearby Manly Beach. It was the perfect day for it as the weather here right now kind of feels like Labor Day weekend in the states. It's not fall yet, but it's too cool and dry to just be summer. The beach was great and after hanging around in the town for awhile after lounging on the beach, we caught the ferry back to the city.
At some point over the course of the day yesterday, Everett started to morph into the ultimate tourist. I don't know exactly what happened. We left the hostel with him wearing a normal t-shirt and shorts and shoes and me carrying his wallet and book in my bag. Then, at the first market we went to he bought a bathing suit that looks like every other bathing suit in Australia. Then, when we arrived at Manly, we stopped in a super market to get some drinks. Everett decided while we were there to purchase soap and a canvas bag. A bag that he loves more than anything now.
He moved his book, wallet and passport into the new bag with his soap. He changed out of his shorts, putting them in the bag. Then, while at the beach, he went up to the shops again, this time purchasing a bright red "Manly Beach Surf Patrol" shirt. He put his old shirt in his bag. And then he put his shoes in the bag.
So, for the rest of the night, all he wanted to talk about were two things 1) how awesome it was for a guy to carry a bag and how he wished it was acceptable in the US and 2) how he wanted to see how long he could go barefoot.
We went to a nice beachside bar before dinner, a nice Indian restaurant for dinner and another bar back in Sydney once we returned. Everett never put his shoes on. Or took his bathing suit off. At one point, as the evening wore down, he went up to a guy who was walking barefoot down the street and just stood next to him, noting that they were both barefoot. The guy told Everett he'd been barefoot for 2 weeks. I'm pretty sure I've never seen Everett be that impressed with someone.
We're off to the beach again today. And, in fact, Everett just walked into the internet cafe wearing his beach patrol shirt and bathing suit.
I'm just glad he has shoes on.
I've never walked as much in my life as I have the last two days getting around this city though. For reasons too complicated to try to explain in this space, we ended up at a hostel called Tokyo Village that is like 8 miles from anything. So we walk alot.
Yesterday we decided to go check out a few Sunday markets and then catch a ferry over to the nearby Manly Beach. It was the perfect day for it as the weather here right now kind of feels like Labor Day weekend in the states. It's not fall yet, but it's too cool and dry to just be summer. The beach was great and after hanging around in the town for awhile after lounging on the beach, we caught the ferry back to the city.
At some point over the course of the day yesterday, Everett started to morph into the ultimate tourist. I don't know exactly what happened. We left the hostel with him wearing a normal t-shirt and shorts and shoes and me carrying his wallet and book in my bag. Then, at the first market we went to he bought a bathing suit that looks like every other bathing suit in Australia. Then, when we arrived at Manly, we stopped in a super market to get some drinks. Everett decided while we were there to purchase soap and a canvas bag. A bag that he loves more than anything now.
He moved his book, wallet and passport into the new bag with his soap. He changed out of his shorts, putting them in the bag. Then, while at the beach, he went up to the shops again, this time purchasing a bright red "Manly Beach Surf Patrol" shirt. He put his old shirt in his bag. And then he put his shoes in the bag.
So, for the rest of the night, all he wanted to talk about were two things 1) how awesome it was for a guy to carry a bag and how he wished it was acceptable in the US and 2) how he wanted to see how long he could go barefoot.
We went to a nice beachside bar before dinner, a nice Indian restaurant for dinner and another bar back in Sydney once we returned. Everett never put his shoes on. Or took his bathing suit off. At one point, as the evening wore down, he went up to a guy who was walking barefoot down the street and just stood next to him, noting that they were both barefoot. The guy told Everett he'd been barefoot for 2 weeks. I'm pretty sure I've never seen Everett be that impressed with someone.
We're off to the beach again today. And, in fact, Everett just walked into the internet cafe wearing his beach patrol shirt and bathing suit.
I'm just glad he has shoes on.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Roomies
I've roomed with some random people on this trip. And I'm not just talking about Laura, who gags every time she brushes her teeth and Everett, who talks incessantly about how amazing his sleeping bag is every time he gets in it.
I have literally slept in the same room with countless people over the last few weeks. Countless because some of the rooms I don't even know how many people were in them.
Most notable among them are Michael and Vick (easy enough names for two girls from Atlanta to remember) in our beachside bure in Fiji; Neil, the British guy who wore boxers WAY too short for him in bed and then forgot to cover with a sheet in the morning; the guy with an odd lip piercing sleeping six inches from me in our prison like dorm in Nadi; Elliot and John, the two British guys who kept Laura and I up until early morning asking us to pack their backpacks for them and make them sandwiches - among their less offensive suggestions; the seriously goth girl who was reading a book called Slasher alone by herself in the room all night in Wellington; the very short German guy who I almost smushed in the middle of the night from the top bunk falling through... the list could go on.
However, the guy in our room last night beat them all. We were staying in a hostel for our last night in New Zealand in a dorm room with 8 people total. Of course, per usual, Laura and I were the only girls. Last night was a little unusual for two reasons. 1) We had to set our alarm for 3:30 a.m. in order to catch our flight this morning to Australia. 2) I have the worst cold EVER. And I could NOT stop coughing. Like, uncontrollable loud coughing.
So, after a shower, I settled into my bottom bunk and proceeded to cough up my left lung. There was an older German guy standing next to my bed who began shaking his head.
"Are you sick?"
I nodded.
"Did you take medicine?"
"Yes, a lot." (I had pretty much swigged down a bottle of cough medicine.)
"You need to drink tea. Hot tea."
I laughed, hoping he'd take the hint that I didn't need his medical advice. I just wanted to go to sleep.
Then he took his shirt off, muttering something about it being hot.
Then he muttered something about my mother not being there to take care of me. Then he said something in German and laughed. To himself.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing," he giggled again. "I can't tell you."
I rolled over, glad Everett was on the bunk above me because this German was creepy.
"You really need hot tea," he insisted.
I rolled back over, coughing. "I'm too hot to drink hot tea," I said, because I felt pretty feverish.
"Really?" he seemed incredulous. Then he began tsking as if that was absolutely terrible news. He was packing his bag and kept walking in and out of the room. Everett and Laura and I began talking a few moments later and somehow the conversation came around to Everett saying something negative about people dating people they'd met on the internet.
The German jerked around as if he'd physically been slapped. I kicked the bottom of Everett's bunk, wishing he'd take it back, certain this guy was going to kill us in the middle of the night for insulting internet dating.
"Oh, I don't know, I think it's great. Lot's of people find true love that way," I said loudly.
He turned back to his packing, seeming content for the time being.
A little bit later I fell asleep. Finally.
But then, around 2 a.m. I woke back up (coughing of course) to see you know who, crawling out of his bed wearing black bikini briefs! His bed was right next to mine and he stood right next to me, with his light shining behind him. I closed my eyes, wishing I'd never seen that.
He walked out to go to the bathroom and I leaned forward, tapping Everett on the bunk above me, whispering to him to check out the German. A few minutes later, after getting locked out of the room and having to have someone open the door for him, he returned, in his undies. Everett looked at him, moaned and then rolled back over.
This morning, Everett was none too pleased with me. Apparently, he feels that there is very little worth waking him up in the middle of the night for and that German guys in black underwear are DEFINITELY NOT on that list. Something he has reminded me of multiple times today.
Frankly, I'm just glad I never have to share a room with that guy again.
I have literally slept in the same room with countless people over the last few weeks. Countless because some of the rooms I don't even know how many people were in them.
Most notable among them are Michael and Vick (easy enough names for two girls from Atlanta to remember) in our beachside bure in Fiji; Neil, the British guy who wore boxers WAY too short for him in bed and then forgot to cover with a sheet in the morning; the guy with an odd lip piercing sleeping six inches from me in our prison like dorm in Nadi; Elliot and John, the two British guys who kept Laura and I up until early morning asking us to pack their backpacks for them and make them sandwiches - among their less offensive suggestions; the seriously goth girl who was reading a book called Slasher alone by herself in the room all night in Wellington; the very short German guy who I almost smushed in the middle of the night from the top bunk falling through... the list could go on.
However, the guy in our room last night beat them all. We were staying in a hostel for our last night in New Zealand in a dorm room with 8 people total. Of course, per usual, Laura and I were the only girls. Last night was a little unusual for two reasons. 1) We had to set our alarm for 3:30 a.m. in order to catch our flight this morning to Australia. 2) I have the worst cold EVER. And I could NOT stop coughing. Like, uncontrollable loud coughing.
So, after a shower, I settled into my bottom bunk and proceeded to cough up my left lung. There was an older German guy standing next to my bed who began shaking his head.
"Are you sick?"
I nodded.
"Did you take medicine?"
"Yes, a lot." (I had pretty much swigged down a bottle of cough medicine.)
"You need to drink tea. Hot tea."
I laughed, hoping he'd take the hint that I didn't need his medical advice. I just wanted to go to sleep.
Then he took his shirt off, muttering something about it being hot.
Then he muttered something about my mother not being there to take care of me. Then he said something in German and laughed. To himself.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing," he giggled again. "I can't tell you."
I rolled over, glad Everett was on the bunk above me because this German was creepy.
"You really need hot tea," he insisted.
I rolled back over, coughing. "I'm too hot to drink hot tea," I said, because I felt pretty feverish.
"Really?" he seemed incredulous. Then he began tsking as if that was absolutely terrible news. He was packing his bag and kept walking in and out of the room. Everett and Laura and I began talking a few moments later and somehow the conversation came around to Everett saying something negative about people dating people they'd met on the internet.
The German jerked around as if he'd physically been slapped. I kicked the bottom of Everett's bunk, wishing he'd take it back, certain this guy was going to kill us in the middle of the night for insulting internet dating.
"Oh, I don't know, I think it's great. Lot's of people find true love that way," I said loudly.
He turned back to his packing, seeming content for the time being.
A little bit later I fell asleep. Finally.
But then, around 2 a.m. I woke back up (coughing of course) to see you know who, crawling out of his bed wearing black bikini briefs! His bed was right next to mine and he stood right next to me, with his light shining behind him. I closed my eyes, wishing I'd never seen that.
He walked out to go to the bathroom and I leaned forward, tapping Everett on the bunk above me, whispering to him to check out the German. A few minutes later, after getting locked out of the room and having to have someone open the door for him, he returned, in his undies. Everett looked at him, moaned and then rolled back over.
This morning, Everett was none too pleased with me. Apparently, he feels that there is very little worth waking him up in the middle of the night for and that German guys in black underwear are DEFINITELY NOT on that list. Something he has reminded me of multiple times today.
Frankly, I'm just glad I never have to share a room with that guy again.
Family Reunion
We're reunited with Everett.
This was no easy task. In fact, it's pretty much taken a week. When we left him at a Starbucks in Auckland it was kind of open ended as to when we would see him again, but Laura and I kind of assumed we'd meet up with him sometime in the next few days.
That was not to be. He stayed in Rotorua on the northern island for much of the time and then followed our steps through Wellington, on the ferry across to Picton and then on the bus down to Christchurch for the last several days.
Of course, I knew he was in Christchurch so I'd emailed him telling him we'd already made reservations at Base Backpackers here for tonight. He emailed back saying that he had gone ahead and moved into our 10 person dorm room and would see us there. That was the last we heard from him.
I emailed several more times, giving him flight details and meeting times. Nothing. Finally, today we arrived, we attempted to go to the meeting places I'd mentioned, hoping that maybe he would show up, having read the email and just not responded. He didn't.
So, around 4 we were able to move into our room where we discovered Everett's sleeping bag on the bed. It was a nice confirmation that he was probably still alive. Finally, around 5 o'clock, I'd gotten sucked into watching Back to the Future 3 with some British guys in our suite while Laura read outside, and then, who walks in the door, but Everett.
He was burnt red sunburned, his hair looked like he'd stuck his finger in a socket and there was a giant ripped hole in the back of his shirt. But, he was alive.
And he had plenty of ridiculous stories from his last week-from sleeping on a cot in the office of a hostel because an Indian family had moved into his room and kicked him out, to meeting "the love of his life," a German girl named Lana, in Rotorua.
It's good to have him back though. Although I think he's going to feel pretty differently about having me around because I have developed a cough that sounds like a mix between a person with emphysema and a loud dog barking. (The girl at the computer next to me literally just offered me some of her coke because I was coughing so much. It's out of control.) So, sleeping in the dorm tonight is going to be fun. I'm pretty sure the two guys who shared the room with Laura and I last night wanted to murder me this morning.
Luckily, I don't have many hours of sleep tonight to worry about. Our shuttle for the airport leaves at 4 a.m. On that note, I'm off to bed!
This was no easy task. In fact, it's pretty much taken a week. When we left him at a Starbucks in Auckland it was kind of open ended as to when we would see him again, but Laura and I kind of assumed we'd meet up with him sometime in the next few days.
That was not to be. He stayed in Rotorua on the northern island for much of the time and then followed our steps through Wellington, on the ferry across to Picton and then on the bus down to Christchurch for the last several days.
Of course, I knew he was in Christchurch so I'd emailed him telling him we'd already made reservations at Base Backpackers here for tonight. He emailed back saying that he had gone ahead and moved into our 10 person dorm room and would see us there. That was the last we heard from him.
I emailed several more times, giving him flight details and meeting times. Nothing. Finally, today we arrived, we attempted to go to the meeting places I'd mentioned, hoping that maybe he would show up, having read the email and just not responded. He didn't.
So, around 4 we were able to move into our room where we discovered Everett's sleeping bag on the bed. It was a nice confirmation that he was probably still alive. Finally, around 5 o'clock, I'd gotten sucked into watching Back to the Future 3 with some British guys in our suite while Laura read outside, and then, who walks in the door, but Everett.
He was burnt red sunburned, his hair looked like he'd stuck his finger in a socket and there was a giant ripped hole in the back of his shirt. But, he was alive.
And he had plenty of ridiculous stories from his last week-from sleeping on a cot in the office of a hostel because an Indian family had moved into his room and kicked him out, to meeting "the love of his life," a German girl named Lana, in Rotorua.
It's good to have him back though. Although I think he's going to feel pretty differently about having me around because I have developed a cough that sounds like a mix between a person with emphysema and a loud dog barking. (The girl at the computer next to me literally just offered me some of her coke because I was coughing so much. It's out of control.) So, sleeping in the dorm tonight is going to be fun. I'm pretty sure the two guys who shared the room with Laura and I last night wanted to murder me this morning.
Luckily, I don't have many hours of sleep tonight to worry about. Our shuttle for the airport leaves at 4 a.m. On that note, I'm off to bed!
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Last day in Queenstown
I have a cold. I've actually had it since Fiji. Seriously, I might be the only person I know who can catch a cold in tropical climates. I have the immune system of a 95 year old.
Anyway, so after sleeping 14 different places in the last 16 nights. (That's right. I counted.) My cold hasn't really had the chance to recover and go away and this morning, it finally all caught up with me. I did NOT feel good. So, I spent much of my morning lounging in Starbucks and doing some reading as Laura meandered around Queenstown.
However, as the afternoon approached we both decided we wanted to do one more Queenstown-ish adrenaline junkie kind of thing. So, we opted for something called jet boating. I'd never heard of this before, but apparently it's pretty popular over here. Basically, it is a small boat that can run in about 6 inches of water and goes extremely fast and makes sharp turns. They put it in a river in a canyon and then you go flying down the canyon while your driver whips around doing 360s in the water and you cling on for dear life. There are about 8 or 9 people in the boat.
The canyon itself is really like nothing I've ever seen. It looks like something in Disney World with blue, blue water, massive rock walls and random waterfalls. Our driver, Phil, was a very kind Kiwi who seemed fairly intent on killing me. I say "me" there because Laura and I ended up on the front of the boat with Phil. Laura was in the middle, Phil was on the left and I was on the right. Phil's inclination seemed to be to be to ram the right side of the boat into a jagged edge of the canyon while going about 60 miles an hour. Afterwards an Australian man came up to ask me how close I thought I'd gotten to hitting a rock.
Too close.
It was tons of fun though and so beautiful. We got sprayed a few times with lots of river water as we spun across the rocks, but that was about as dangerous as it ever got. But, that, in combination with my cold and Laura's general tiredness, was enough to wear us out for the day and we headed back to our dorm for a late afternoon nap.
While this pretty much makes us grandmas by Queenstown standards, I couldn't have been happier. Actually, the only thing that made me happier today was the purchase of cough medicine, cough drops and extra klennex. Now that's what I call exciting stuff.
Anyway, so after sleeping 14 different places in the last 16 nights. (That's right. I counted.) My cold hasn't really had the chance to recover and go away and this morning, it finally all caught up with me. I did NOT feel good. So, I spent much of my morning lounging in Starbucks and doing some reading as Laura meandered around Queenstown.
However, as the afternoon approached we both decided we wanted to do one more Queenstown-ish adrenaline junkie kind of thing. So, we opted for something called jet boating. I'd never heard of this before, but apparently it's pretty popular over here. Basically, it is a small boat that can run in about 6 inches of water and goes extremely fast and makes sharp turns. They put it in a river in a canyon and then you go flying down the canyon while your driver whips around doing 360s in the water and you cling on for dear life. There are about 8 or 9 people in the boat.
The canyon itself is really like nothing I've ever seen. It looks like something in Disney World with blue, blue water, massive rock walls and random waterfalls. Our driver, Phil, was a very kind Kiwi who seemed fairly intent on killing me. I say "me" there because Laura and I ended up on the front of the boat with Phil. Laura was in the middle, Phil was on the left and I was on the right. Phil's inclination seemed to be to be to ram the right side of the boat into a jagged edge of the canyon while going about 60 miles an hour. Afterwards an Australian man came up to ask me how close I thought I'd gotten to hitting a rock.
Too close.
It was tons of fun though and so beautiful. We got sprayed a few times with lots of river water as we spun across the rocks, but that was about as dangerous as it ever got. But, that, in combination with my cold and Laura's general tiredness, was enough to wear us out for the day and we headed back to our dorm for a late afternoon nap.
While this pretty much makes us grandmas by Queenstown standards, I couldn't have been happier. Actually, the only thing that made me happier today was the purchase of cough medicine, cough drops and extra klennex. Now that's what I call exciting stuff.
Picture Perfect
Ok, so I've been putting up A LOT of new pics. So I've run out of room in my old album. Which is why I've renamed some things and moved some stuff around. Now, I have an entire links section for photos (with two albums). The original "My Backpacking Trip" has been changed to "From Fiji to Picton, NZ" - there are new photos at the end of it! There is also a brand new album called "From Christchurch on." It's all new stuff and I'll keep adding to it as we travel until I run out of room.
Check 'em out.
Check 'em out.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Jumpers
Today I jumped out of a plane at 12,000 feet.
And it was AWESOME.
So, last night around 10, Laura and I decided that we wanted to go ahead and get to Queenstown today minus the crazy bus driver and 9 hour trip. Checking online, we found flights for this morning for $85 so we booked them and set our alarms for the 9 a.m. flight.
Queenstown is easily one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. It's a little like Jackson Hole, Wyoming is the closest I can come with an American city. It's surrounded by staggeringly tall rocky peaks and has beautiful woods going up the side of many and has azure blue water in the middle of it all. The town isn't too big and the whole thing is like an amusement park for adults looking for adrenaline rushes. From "Canyon Swings" to bungee jumping to white water rafting... everything in between... they've got it all.
And, it's known for being the best place to sky dive in New Zealand. Maybe the world.
So, arriving at our hostel, we asked the friendly guy at the desk, Ben, about it. He strongly encouraged us to do it and before we knew it, we'd booked the 12:30 time at nzone, a local skydiving operation. Laura was terrified. I took a lot of pictures of her scared reaction. And she even went to far as to tell me that if she began to cry, I was still allowed to take pics to document the experience. Luckily, she didn't.
Skydiving isn't cheap. I wasn't particularly nervous about the jump part so much as the "will this kind of money be worth it?" part. It was $300 NZD a piece, but I swallowed, handed over my Visa and figured this is probably one of those once in a lifetime kind of things.
After getting a short instructional video and being told that we would be jumping with one other person - our "tandem instructor" - we rode the bus to the landing location, a small field outside of town. Getting there, we watched as probably about 40 people fell from the sky in random intervals while we waited for our turn. Laura and I were the last to be called.
Walking in, I met my tandem instructor. And let me say, it was $300 dollars well spent. There is "hot," and then there is "dark German guy dressed in Top Gun-ish flight suit, wearing polarized sunglasses hot." Volker, or Volk as I like to call him, was almost as good of a view as that from 12,000 feet. Laura is completely infatuated with her instructor, a british guy named James and Volk as well. In fact, she had the nerve to tell me that Volk was too short for me. (This may be true, but I'm not going to let that get in the way of our love.)
So, after Volk suited me up and James did the same for Laura, we were given a quick lesson on how to jump from the plane and then we hopped on the tiny plane where we literally had to sit between their legs as we ascended to 12,000 feet (like how I keep saying that? It was a long way up).
The view was beautiful. The plane was so small, but I was sitting next to the clear door so my view was totally unobstructed. Laura was still pretty terrified and kept randomly screaming the whole way, which was highly entertaining. Finally, we reached the point and I opened the door, as instructed by Volk. We scooted to the edge, I leaned my head back on his chest and he pushed us off.
And wow. I mean. Wow.
There is nothing like the feeling of free falling like that. Nothing. It doesn't feel real. It feels like you're watching it on TV with 100 mile per hour wind rushing at your face. It is the most bizarre feeling ever because you're flipping all over the place. After 45 seconds, Volk pulled the parachute and the world stopped rushing towards me.
The rest of the ride was pleasant. Almost like parasailing. Volk loosened my straps a little and let me briefly steer the parachute. Then he spiraled us downward, pointing out Queenstown in the distance. Finally, we smoothly landed, me on my bum, on the grass. We got up, Volk giving me a high five (and then a hug. again. totally worth $300.) and I watched as Laura and James landed behind us with Laura yelling enthusiastically.
So yeah, that was it. I then called my parents as soon as I returned to Queenstown (thanks Katie for being my phone operator for the night :)). They were none too pleased. In fact, I believe the word used most often was disappointed. And there was also some talk of me leaving Rosie an orphan. (Don't think this hadn't crossed my mind. I may have even left a brief will for Rosie tucked in my journal.)
So tonight we're taking it easy, because, well, I think that was enough for one day.
And it was AWESOME.
So, last night around 10, Laura and I decided that we wanted to go ahead and get to Queenstown today minus the crazy bus driver and 9 hour trip. Checking online, we found flights for this morning for $85 so we booked them and set our alarms for the 9 a.m. flight.
Queenstown is easily one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. It's a little like Jackson Hole, Wyoming is the closest I can come with an American city. It's surrounded by staggeringly tall rocky peaks and has beautiful woods going up the side of many and has azure blue water in the middle of it all. The town isn't too big and the whole thing is like an amusement park for adults looking for adrenaline rushes. From "Canyon Swings" to bungee jumping to white water rafting... everything in between... they've got it all.
And, it's known for being the best place to sky dive in New Zealand. Maybe the world.
So, arriving at our hostel, we asked the friendly guy at the desk, Ben, about it. He strongly encouraged us to do it and before we knew it, we'd booked the 12:30 time at nzone, a local skydiving operation. Laura was terrified. I took a lot of pictures of her scared reaction. And she even went to far as to tell me that if she began to cry, I was still allowed to take pics to document the experience. Luckily, she didn't.
Skydiving isn't cheap. I wasn't particularly nervous about the jump part so much as the "will this kind of money be worth it?" part. It was $300 NZD a piece, but I swallowed, handed over my Visa and figured this is probably one of those once in a lifetime kind of things.
After getting a short instructional video and being told that we would be jumping with one other person - our "tandem instructor" - we rode the bus to the landing location, a small field outside of town. Getting there, we watched as probably about 40 people fell from the sky in random intervals while we waited for our turn. Laura and I were the last to be called.
Walking in, I met my tandem instructor. And let me say, it was $300 dollars well spent. There is "hot," and then there is "dark German guy dressed in Top Gun-ish flight suit, wearing polarized sunglasses hot." Volker, or Volk as I like to call him, was almost as good of a view as that from 12,000 feet. Laura is completely infatuated with her instructor, a british guy named James and Volk as well. In fact, she had the nerve to tell me that Volk was too short for me. (This may be true, but I'm not going to let that get in the way of our love.)
So, after Volk suited me up and James did the same for Laura, we were given a quick lesson on how to jump from the plane and then we hopped on the tiny plane where we literally had to sit between their legs as we ascended to 12,000 feet (like how I keep saying that? It was a long way up).
The view was beautiful. The plane was so small, but I was sitting next to the clear door so my view was totally unobstructed. Laura was still pretty terrified and kept randomly screaming the whole way, which was highly entertaining. Finally, we reached the point and I opened the door, as instructed by Volk. We scooted to the edge, I leaned my head back on his chest and he pushed us off.
And wow. I mean. Wow.
There is nothing like the feeling of free falling like that. Nothing. It doesn't feel real. It feels like you're watching it on TV with 100 mile per hour wind rushing at your face. It is the most bizarre feeling ever because you're flipping all over the place. After 45 seconds, Volk pulled the parachute and the world stopped rushing towards me.
The rest of the ride was pleasant. Almost like parasailing. Volk loosened my straps a little and let me briefly steer the parachute. Then he spiraled us downward, pointing out Queenstown in the distance. Finally, we smoothly landed, me on my bum, on the grass. We got up, Volk giving me a high five (and then a hug. again. totally worth $300.) and I watched as Laura and James landed behind us with Laura yelling enthusiastically.
So yeah, that was it. I then called my parents as soon as I returned to Queenstown (thanks Katie for being my phone operator for the night :)). They were none too pleased. In fact, I believe the word used most often was disappointed. And there was also some talk of me leaving Rosie an orphan. (Don't think this hadn't crossed my mind. I may have even left a brief will for Rosie tucked in my journal.)
So tonight we're taking it easy, because, well, I think that was enough for one day.
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