Just Wonderful...

And tell me again why these states can't store their own filth?

"EnergySolutions Wins Big with Stimulus Contracts"

I realize that EnergySolutions is out in the middle of nowhere Utah, but that doesn't necessarily mean that it's safe or ok. If Oklahoma and the likes want to create nuclear waste, they should keep it. Just because our neck of the woods could be considered "ugly" , that should not be a good enough reason for waste disposal. Utah was one of the fastest growing states last year, which means that in all likelihood, this area will one day be inhabited.

But the only time Utah citizens think about their children is when it comes to gay rights and re-redistricting schools. Seeing into the future is not a gift most in this great state of Deseret possess.

And no thanks to Obama either on this one. WHERE IS THE PROTEST, PEOPLE?



On a funnier note, my favorite [New Zealand] professor, Sir John Pirker of Biology shed new light on the recycling of paper. We didn't get through his whole section (we have four different profs in this class) so he demonstrated what we should do with the last page of notes: rip it off, crumple it up and throw it away.

"It's not wasteful," he told us, "it's all carbon! If we recycle it, we won't have to plant as many trees! And what do trees do? They suck up carbon! So throw it in the dump and in 20 years (ok more like 200 million) it will turn into coal!"

Sadly, today was his last lecture. So far, two out of three profs in that class have been great. I've never been so interested in biology. It really shows that the professor makes all of the difference (last semester, I didn't go to over 70% of my bio classes because my professor was so incompetent, thanks NEU!).

But I don't enjoy the switching up. I finally get used to the style of one, and next thing I know a new lecturer is in front of class making things confusing as all hell. That's what you get for going to school in a different country, I suppose. The American university system is entirely different from pretty much the rest of the world's. We're in the minority on that one, but I like it so much better.

There's so much I can say on that topic, but alas, I have class to attend (yay for structural geology!). So adios, mis amigos y amores!

Hurry Up! We have a Tide to Catch: In Which We Hike the Abel Tasman Coastal Track

Finally! Something to write about!

Kidding, but actually, not really. I know all of you guys back in boring old US don't really understand this, but it's been pretty boring here too. Fall (or autumn as I'm so often corrected) is officially here. The weather is becoming more hostile everyday and school is regularly busy. The combination of the two [seemingly] warrant lazy weekends--lounging in pajamas all day, baking, watching movies, crafting, etc.

BUT! This past weekend we (as in Tommy, Ryan, Chris and I) decided to get off of our arses and once again explore the country of limitless exploration.

Destination: Abel Tasman National Park, on the northern tip of the South Island.

A mere 7 1/2 hours from Christchurch! Ha! We left Thursday afternoon after lab, (NB: As of last week, I no longer have Friday classes!) and arrived at the Marahau trail head around 11:30 or so (can't quite give an exact time as I had fallen asleep for at least an hour before we got there).

The forecast was dim-- rain ALL OVER the ENTIRE island, but our restless bodies couldn't stay in Christchurch one more weekend. And what's an adventure without the possibilty of severe weather?

And (for once) the forecast was right. Well, for the first night at least. Our original plan was to find a patch of dirt to camp on for the night, but it was absolutely pouring. Luckily, Royale pulled through. Chris and Ryan put the seats down in the front, and Tommy and I put the back seats down. Quite comfy as far as a van goes. Strong winds and sheets of rain kept us all tossing in our sleeping-bags, but we knew this would probably be the worst of it, and better at night than when we were hiking.

We woke up on Friday morning to a crisp, sunny view of Abel Tasman: dense forests lined with pristine beaches. As usual, we took our time waking up, eating, packing our bags, buying hut tickets and didn't start the trail until a bit before noon. To our credit, the guy who sold us our passes said it would only take us about 5 or 6 hours to reach the Bark Bay hut (or final destination for the day).



So we set off and were immediately stunned by the beauty (well, I was at least, but I don't know why the other guys wouldn't be). This was easily the most gorgeous place I have ever been to. And I'm being serious this time.




Most of the first day was spent in what is unmistakeably a rain forest, but the only description I could find says that there are large kunuka trees. I'll call it a rain forest. It had all the beauty of one without the pests (ie, there weren't any mosquitoes the size of your face, and it was lacking in carnivorous plants). Ferns of all shapes and sizes competed with huge trees. Tropical bird calls were often undertoned by the gurgling of a stream or waterfall. And of course there was fungi galore. It was the touch of color the area needed. Every once in a while we would catch a glimpse of the ocean or beach, but for the most part we were in the forest.

As you could probably guess, the hike did not take us five or six hours. It took about seven. And that's excluding our beach stop and our lunch stop. Needless to say, it was dark well before we got to our hut (keep in mind you Northern hemisphere folk that the days are getting shorter here).

Poor Tommy had terrible blisters on his feet and began hiking in flip-flops about halfway through our journey. Once we were going by headlamps, I had to warn him for potential toe stubbers because (Murphy was on his side) his headlamp didn't work either.

However, walking in the dark isn't that bad (Tommy may oppose this view). It was dark, but it wasn't late. We got to our cabin around 7pm. Also, we got to see tons of glow worms along the trail. You would never see them in the day time. Duh.

So we got to Bark Bay hut, made dinner and pretty much passed out by 9pm. We went about 23 km (15 miles) that day and were beat. We also had to wake up early because (drum roll....)we had a tide to catch!

This being a coastal track meant that sometimes we had to hike along the coast. And sometimes the tide is too high for crossing, and sometimes it isn't. Lucky for us, low tide this weekend happened around 8 am and pm. So on Saturday morning, we left Bark Bay around 7 in the morning in order to make it to Tonga beach in time to cross (no way were we hiking in the dark again).
This may, or may not be Tonga Beach. They all look similar. Anyways, for argument's sake, I'll say it is. Of course we made it, and found out once we got there that it's actually possible to cross 3 hours before and after low tide. But getting up early actually worked to our advantage as will be discussed later.
Ze naaatuuuure (as the Germans say) on Tonga was awesome. Especially because we just learned about starfish and mollusks (shell fish). The bird was just funky and the rainbow was, well a rainbow. How can you not take a picture? Especially since it was over a rainforest. Ahh...love it.

After we made it safely across Tonga, we made our way back into the bush.

Just an example of the trail and also why I don't enjoy taking pictures of myself.
Tommy pretending to be a dinosaur (brontosaurus specifically)--in the hopes that we'd see the real thing.

All of a sudden (well, maybe a couple hours after we left the beach) we stumbled upon a lodge. The Awaroa Lodge to be exact. The term lodge is a perfect description. It is a really ritzy hotel including signs urging trampers to "respect the privacy of guests" and to "not walk past guests' doors". We stopped anyways because the boys were really craving something greasy and their tunnel vision only saw the word cafe. Being a lodge, "cafe" meant $15 for a sandwich, and we also couldn't sit in the dining room, we had to sit out in the rain (well, it was more misting, but I like playing the part of the victim). Even though there were no guests in sight. Sigh...

The boys ate their food and we threw our packs back on to finish the rest of the hike to Awaroa hut (not to be confused with lodge).
Hiking across a nameless beach before we got to the lodge. Rain looming in the distance.
Tommy and Ryan hiking up to Awaroa Hut. Our home for Saturday night. We got there around noon, which is good because it almost immediately started pouring.
Ryan watching the tide come in (view from the hut porch).
Playing cards to pass the time. We were the only hikers there for a while, but the hut soon filled up. Included were the requisite Europeans (four or five), a Harvard Med (surgeon) student (this has to be noted because we were talking about who knows what, and I mentioned that I'm going to marry rich--probably a surgeon. So of course this surgeon who lives five minutes away from my school shows up. The boys were all a bit miffed that their wish--bikini-wearing super models-- didn't show up) and an old[er] couple from New Orleans. It rained most of the day and night and again we were really lucky to miss the worst part of the weather.
Tommy, Chris, Ryan and I on Sunday morning, about to cross the estuary.
Leaving Awaroa hut.
Crossing at "low tide". Because it rained so heavily the night before, the estuary never drained out. This is me up to my knees, but the deepest it got was about mid-thigh.
Haha, Tommy didn't want to get his shorts wet.

More fungi.
Good example of the "rain forest".

A really big tree (Tommy's there fore scale).
Being geology nerds and pointing out the vein in the rock.
Not blinking, just squinting.
This is why you wear shoes, boys and girls.
A perfect ending to a perfect weekend in a perfect part of a perfect country. Ha.

We actually hung out on this beach for a while waiting for a water taxi to take us back to the car. Once we got there we pigged on greasy food--even though we only hiked for about two hours--there's nothing like bad food after backpacking, and drove back. Got back to Christchurch around midnight on Monday morning. Good timing!

Stay tuned, more frequent updates to come [hopefully]!

Another Day, Another Year

Well, it's finally happened. I am now one hundred percent officially an adult. None of this "18+" anymore. I can rent a car, control my finances and buy alcohol...what an age.

Despite this milestone, I don't feel any older. Now, I know that everyone asks/gets asked whether or not they feel older on their birthday. And everyone says no, right? Well, last year I didn't say no. It was a big yes. Twenty felt so old! Two decades, twenty years ago, etc...the lingo just creates a sense of a long time. But twenty-one, not so much. Saying "twenty years from now" verses "twenty-one years from now" carries a bigger statement. There's just something about it. And I know of at least one person [my awesome flatmate, Brandy] who agrees. So I'm not alone out there.

It raises the question then, "why twenty-one?" What is so special about this number that opens so many doors for young adults? After all, the age of majority is eighteen. Well, I could turn this into a research paper, or maybe I won't. I'd rather just philosophically discuss the meaning of age, numbers and growing old.

In our [western, developed] society, age is strongly linked with identity. Well, for the first *two decades* at least. How many kids under the age of fourteen or so will say "Oh I'm almost ten," or "I'm six and a half," when asked their age? If my experiences are accurate (and I'd like to think they are), then most kids are as specific as possible in order to be "as old as possible" if you will.

After about fourteen, most kids will just tell you their age, but then there are the milestones to look forward to. The milestones that directly relate to age. Turning sixteen, turning eighteen-- both are HUGE. Something to look forward to. And of course there's twenty-one. The age of all ages. Or so society has made it seem.

But what if there was no such thing as age? What if we didn't keep track of how many years we have been on this Earth (or if we didn't keep track of years at all...but that's another concept entirely)? Many societies don't. And to be quite honest I don't know the real reason why they don't, but if I had to guess, it would be because age doesn't really matter. It is not a survival mechanism. It was probably just something made up to make us as humans feel special, to mark an occasion (or maybe early statisticians wanted to keep track birth/death records? [like I said, not a research paper, just going off of my own thoughts])

And that gets me wondering, if there was no such thing as age, would there such a thing as maturity? Would this song (the inspiration of this post, sorry it's so *immature*) be relevant?


I don't know.

And then there comes a point when age doesn't matter for a while. My guess is that for most Americans it is the day after their twenty first. For me, it was the day after I moved to Christchurch. You realize that there are no more big milestones. You are just in your twenties and that's it. Age starts becoming irrelevant--in your job, in school, in bars, even the age difference amongst friends becomes wider and wider. Remember in middle school when you wouldn't even hang out with seventh graders as an eighth grader, or in high school a senior was looked down upon for dating freshmen?

Soon, you start dreading getting older. It's just a reminder that your body is getting older. Time is moving quicker and things pass by. Instead of saying your almost forty three, you think that you've been forty for the past three years (ahem, Mom). And you don't even want to think about turning fifty.

Note: if I'm offending any of the older readers out there...I'm sorry. It is probably just because I lack the experience and wisdom of old age...

There's that point when age is only a reflection of how you feel. So that makes me twenty one still, my mom is in her mid thirties, and my dad is, well, forty (c'mon, your beard is finally silver, not blond!). And that is, in my opinion, the most important age. When you can decide how old you want to be.

So those are my thoughts on getting older. I had a great birthday, hanging out in the most beautiful place in the world with some amazing people. It wasn't your classic "American" twenty first, but it didn't need to be for me. I think celebrating birthdays is a little silly anyways. Sort of like saying to all of your friends, "Hey, buy me a drink because I was born today! Aren't you happy?"

I now [technically] have nothing to look forward to as far as age is concerned, but I can't wait to get older. I can't wait to see where this life leads me, and look back on all I have done. I can't wait to meet more great people, and watch the ones I know become wiser and extraordinary. I can't wait to be fifty but act like I haven't aged past thirty (if my parents are any indicators [and they should be, I share their genes] I shouldn't have a problem with that one).

I love you all, and wish you an amazing year!