Adam's Adventures in NZ: Rocky Too

Franz Josef Glacier

So the next destination of my quest through New Zealand was to find something ridiculously unlikely to climb, like a building or a very tall man. However, without access to any radioactive spiders or Big and Tall outlets my dreams seemed somewhat unrealistic. Still I found my unlikely target in the form of Franz Josef Glacier. Located on the western coast of New Zealand the Franz Josef Glacier is one of only three temper-ate weather glaciers that exist in the world. (One of the others, Fox Glacier, is located about 20 miles to the south of Franz Josef.)

Despite its name as a temperate-weather glacier, do not be fooled. It was still quite cold and wet. (Basically when they say temperate glacier, it just means there is a decreased chance of losing fingers, toes, and ears to frost bite, but only a slightly lowered chance.) I suppose this drop in weather was to be expected as the New Zealand winter was just beginning. Thankfully, I was given a water-proof outfit which was not only capable of keeping out the rain and the ice, but was also stylish enough that it made me feel like I was going on away mission with Kirk and Spock. I was also supplied with crampons and climbing boots as the glacier was understandably icy and slippery.

For those who do not know what a glacier is, it is a large persistent body of ice. Originating on land, a glacier flows slowly due to stresses induced by its weight. A consequence of glacier flow is the transport of rock and debris abraded from its substrate and resultant landforms like cirques and moraines. A glacier forms in a location where the accumulation of snow and sleet exceeds the amount of snow that melts. Over many years, often decades or centuries, a glacier will eventually form as the snow compacts and turns to ice. (according to Wikipedia, anyway). Franz Josef Glacier is a World Heritage Site, which means its pretty damn special. It was named after Emperor Franz Josepf I of Austria by the German explorer, Julius von Haast in 1865. The Maori legend for the area names its Ka Roimata o Hinekukatere. It was believed that Hinehukatere persuaded her lover Wawe to climb the mountain with her. Wawe being a bit of a klutz and a poor mountaineer was killed in an avalanche. Hinehukatere cried for the his death and the tears fell on the mountainside, froze, and formed the glacier.

My guided hike spent roughly six-hours scaling the heights of the glacier and exploring the crevasses and ice flows of the massive natural structure. As the glacier is a constantly shifting force our guide had to be an expert in the delicacy of the ice below our feet or the stability of the slopes we were climbing. There were some openings that we came across in the ice that fell for hundreds of feet, and by the time we were done we found ourselves more than 2,000 feet above sea level. The glacier itself seems to go through a cycle of retreat and advance over a roughly 10 year cycle. The ice pushes forward and then pulls back up the mountain with changes in climate. Generally speaking it is easier to climb when the glacier is in retreat (as it currently is), but it can be more dangerous. However, the glacier itself (even in when advancing) is still shrinking, due partly to the bogey-man that is global warming. Still, we also has to take into account that even this is not a new trend, as the glacier has been shrinking ever since the last ice age (approximately 15,000 years ago).

Walking the glacier

The one thing that surprised me was the blueness of the ice. There were some parts that seemed almost unnaturally blue. Even more interesting was that the color did not seem limited to the ice itself, but the glacier run-off and streams were also amazingly turquoise in comparison to almost any other water source I have ever seen. I even drank from the glacial run-off. It was surprisingly cold, but refreshing.

Yet despite the cold, the rain, and even the slight chance of accidental death I found myself invigorated by my climb up the Franz Josef Glacier. I have climbed and hiked a lot of natural wonders in my time in Australia and New Zealand, and this was truly unique. Here I was trekking across one of the very phenomenas that helped shape the world. Glaciers are responsible for the carving of our planet, and never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I would have the chance to ride atop one as it made its slow but steady work of the towering mountains that surrounded it. So even though the climb was uncomfortable, wet, cold, and rather arduous, it will remain as an experience I will remember for a long time. So to wrap this up in the most cliche way I c guess, man think of, the Franz Josef Glacier has left an impact on me as much as it has on the earth around it. Also I ended my day with a free pass to the Franz Josef Hot Spring... so there was that too.

Adam's Adventures in NZ: The Search for Spock

The official Seal of New Zealand (get it)

I started my trip on the South Island of New Zealand by taking the ferry from Wellington to a small shipping town called Picton. There I was met by a very old man holding up a sign that read "Brunner." He delivered me to my new rental car and soon I was off down the Queen Charlotte Highway on my way to Nelson.

Nelson, is only a slightly larger and more important town than Picton, if only because of its proximity to Abel Tasman, the south island's most famous national park. I booked myself a bed for two nights with the intent of visiting the park on the next day. However, my real dilemma was that I was tired of hiking. Over the course of the past several months I have spent more time than I can count lugging my lazy behind up so many mountains, down hundreds of dirt paths, and tramping my way through every corner of wilderness from Sydney to Endor. So I decided to try a new approach, exploration by water. I booked myself on a kayak trip to explore the sands and surf surrounding Abel Tasman National Park, and it was one of the best decisions I made.

Not only did it feel good to be out on the water, but the day was unseasonably warm for the New Zealand winter months. I found myself on a trip with a group of I-Site employees. (I for Information Sites are scattered all over Australia and New Zealand. They are usually managed by middle-aged women who can recommend to you anything from a great trip to a great restaurant. Mostly, in my travels I have utilized these small ports of information for their free bathrooms and to ask stupid questions: Where are the glowing lakes?; What is a tuckerbox?; etc) Anyway, among the highlights of my kayak trip (besides the amazing coastal scenery) was the seal sanctuary we visited.

A large seal colony protected by the New Zealand Government lives off the coast of Abel Tasman and is open for kayakers to visit. We were able to get close enough to colony to not only see the seals, but have them curiously come up and play around our boats. They bobbed and weaved in between us, doing tricks and generally being ridiculously awesome. I was even able to touch one as he stood up on a rock beside my kayak. It was certainly a real highlight of my New Zealand trip. However, it was not the only surprising experience I had while on my south island journey.

$10 a Day? Maybe for Non-Brunners

The destination I actually found myself getting most excited about was not the Pancake Rocks (though they were interesting and beautiful, situated along New Zealand's equivalent of the Great Ocean Road) or the Castle Rocks (which were huge rocks that made even a 6'2" guy like me feel like a kid. At least kiddish enough that I allowed myself to run gleefully down a particularly steep hill, only to be embarrassed when I discovered an elderly German couple watching me.) No my most astounding find in this stranger newer world is locasted about 30 kilometers outside of the town of Greymouth, in a small vacation town, visited only by locals. It is not a usual destination for backpackers or international visitors, but I found that I could not resist visiting the majestic shores, of Lake Brunner.

Mostly, I believes Lake Brunner was probably going to be a large boring body of water, and I would entertain myself by getting pictures of me posing in front of signs and markers proudly bearing my surname (which I did). However, little did I know that Lake Brunner is actually a beautiful crystal clear lake situated at the foot of towering white-capped mountains, near an area named after Thomas Brunner, surveyor and explorer. Thomas Brunner was born in England in 1821. At the age of 20 he was appointed to the New Zealand company as a surveyor and he helped to establish the settlement of Nelson. During his time in New Zealand, Brunner and his sidekick Kehu (a Maori) left on a five month expedition to explore and trace the western coast of New Zealand. During this expedition he actually identified Mt. Cook as New Zealand's highest mountain. So why isn't called Mt. Brunner? (An early example of Adam's Law in effect.) On his second an most arduous journey down the Buller River, the Brunner luck continued. By the end of the following year Brunner and his party ran out of provisions, and were forced to eat their dog (and that is why to this day my family serves dog every Thanksgiving.) To add injury to insult Brunner also suffered a severe stroke and was left paralysed on one side of his body. However, Kehu (his Robin) refused to leave him and with the help of the rest of the members of the expedition was carried to Nelson, arriving in June of 1848. Among his many discoveries was the identification of coal in the Grey River Valley, and in 1851 he was awarded the Patron's Medal by the Royal Geographical Society. He died in 1874 in Nelson, Kehu and a large Maori party attended the funeral.

Lake Brunner is the largest lake in the northwestern part of the south island. It is popular for fishing, particularly for catching freshwater mussel. Upon seeing MY magnificent lake I must admit I was stunned by the sheer size and beauty of it. I dined on peanut butter and potato chips by the lakeside as I watched the clouds reflected off its clear surface. I do not think I could have picked a better place to proudly bear my name. The locals, however, where not amused when I proclaimed myself long lost ruler of the Lake. Thus, it was that I ended my visit to the majestic Lake Brunner by being chased off by several retired fisherman and a snarky mouthed waitress from the Lake Brunner Cafe. (I'm still not even sure where they found pitchforks in this day and age.)

Arthur's Pass

After leaving Lake Brunner I passed through Arthur's Pass (another place not named for me), which wraps around and through the New Zealand Southern Alps. These mountains are some of the largest peaks in New Zealand and belong to the same geological range as the actual Alps and the Australian Alps (which my loyal readers will remember I so treacherously crossed driving between Melbourne and Canberra). As with all my mountain driving I found myself ascending and descending sharp inclines, making hair-pin turns near treacherous and deadly drops, and narrowly avoiding oncoming logger trucks as they labored up and down the steep sloping roads. However, what I was thrilled to notice is that for the first time, I was not bothered at all. At this point I found that not only was I adapted to driving on the wrong side of the road, but I was no longer daunted by the prospects of crashing hundreds of feet below to a fiery death. In fact, I found myself exhilarated by my drive through this rugged and amazing mountain scenery. (The high arching mounts set against the backdrop of a reddening sky combined with my own terrible singing voice belting out lyrics to Cage the Elephant and Linkin Park songs.)

I cannot say for certain, but perhaps I am actually starting to adapt to life in this part of the world, or perhaps (*gasp*) even beginning to find a little confidence in my own abilities and judgement. Hey, if I can find a lake called Brunner on the otherside of the world, than maybe anything is possible.

Adam's Adventures in NZ: and the Order of Peter Jackson

Every noble adventurer needs a symbolic crest
to proudly display, and while on my quest I showed mine
with pride and honor, each symbol representing
part of who I am what I value.

It's a dangerous business, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.

Let's face it -you all know me- I'm a nerd, and what self-respecting nerd could resist checking out the parallels between the works of Peter Jackson and that other guy (JRR Something or other) and the land which I found myself traveling through.  As for my own feet I tried my best to keep them solidly on the road as I continued my journey across New Zealand, however I must admit that for part of the time my head was in the clouds. (And I mean that literally, the cloud cover in New Zealand is so low you can't help but have your head in the clouds at least for a while.) However, when the mist cleared every so often, I would glimpse a world that was almost magical in beauty and in belief, and it was suddenly not hard to find myself embracing my inner-hobbit in a world called Middle-Earth.

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.

I started my exploration of Middle-Zealand, in the place where most of Tolkien's adventures tend to begin, the Shire. Now, the filming location for the Shire is in a hidden hilly area near the town of Matamata, on a privately owned sheep farm belonging to the Alexander family, on a road called Buckland (seriously). When choosing the location Peter Jackson originally was only looking for a land which had a large tree placed next to a lake. He found it on the Alexander farm, however he also found the rolling landscape and isolated beauty for which to place the rest of the town of Hobbiton. The only way to access the set is to take the guided tour, (which also included a sheep shearing demonstration and the opportunity to bottle-feed lambs). Normally, the Hobbiton set would be mostly gone, with only small wooden white cutouts left in place to represent where hobbit holes and houses had been during filming, but not for my visit. Peter Jackson will soon be filming The Hobbit, in the location and as such the set was restored to full beauty. Not only was the entire town of Hobbiton restored to its perfect movie-like realness, but even the vegetation and other small touches were restored to the set, allowing me a chance to actually walk through and explore a realistic home of Hobbits. Now for legal reasons having to do with the filming of The Hobbit, I must stop my description here, or face litigation. I had to sign a contract promising that I would not reveal anything of what I saw or what I heard while taking the tour. This nondisclosure agreement also means that I cannot put my 1,001 Hobbiton pictures up here or on Facebook for anyone to see (which makes me wonder what is the point of taking pictures if I can't have a profile picture of me standing in front of Bag End?) Happily though, I should be able to tell my loyal readers everything I know about the set and The Hobbit, sometime around 2014, after the release of actual movie...

Mordor and a cloudy Mt. Doom

The next Middle-Zealand location I found myself exploring was Mordor and Mt. Doom, or as they are known in the "real world," Tongariro National Park and Mt. Ngauruhoe. Truthfully, at first I was a little disappointed over the low cloud-cover and misty weather conditions that I was met on the day of my visit as it obscured me vision of the peaks of the great volcano of the Enemy. However, I realized that I don't know if I would have wanted to visit the park in any other type of weather. With the gloomy atmosphere and a sunless sky hanging over my head, I realized that I was getting exactly what I wanted, not a hike through Tongariro National Park, but a hike through Morder. I will spare you my Gollum impression, (Stupid fat hobbit...), which I randomly broke out during the day for no one's entertainment but my own. Thus, I spent my day climbing not over the volcanic rock of Tongariro, but the treacherous black rocks of Mordor, nor was I walking through just any reedy, lifeless marsh, but I found myself carefully picking my way through the Dead Marshes, half expecting to see spectral elf and human faces in the waters staring back at me. Unfortunately the low clouds did cover the peak of Mt. Doom from my vision, but I did spend quite a bit of time watching the clouds as they moved across the face of the volcano, briefly allowing glimpses of the Mt.  Ngauruhoe and satisfying my more dorkish ideas. All I can say is that it was an amazing sight to behold, but just like Frodo I had to be moving on. So I hopped on my giant eagle and headed for my next location.

I ended my exploration of Middle-Zealand and the North Island in the most appropriate place, Wellyland (an idiotic name for the capital of New Zealand's movie making industry), also more commonly known as the city of Wellington. It is Peter Jackson's home town, as well as the location of Weta Workshops, the visual studio responsible for the Lord of the Rings and a hundred other movies, such as The Chronicles of Narnia and King Kong. Over 50% of the filming for Lord of the Rings was done in and around Wellington and I took a tour of the city and surrounding areas to see places such as Helms Deep, Rivendell, and the Buckland Forests. We explored some of the filming locations, paused to take foolish pictures, and of course heard stories of filming around New Zealand. For instance, many of the Orcs seen in the movie were portrayed by a regiment of the New Zealand Army (I mean because what better does the New Zealand Army have to do?)

I could have been an elf.

The New Zealand Government basically gave Peter Jackson an open ticket for anything he needed, even so far as making a new governmental position called The Minister of Middle-Earth (I wish I was kidding), whose job was to build roads, declare no-fly zones, and basically be prepared to allow Jackson and his crew to break any law they wished in the name of making this epic trilogy. The entire country of New Zealand was behind this project, in only the way I think Kiwi can be. My favorite story is how when they were filming Helm's Deep, Peter Jackson was short of a few hundred extras and just sent people around to the local hostels and got all these international travelers to come work with him for a few days. The government waived all visa restrictions and allowed Jackson to pay hundred of international backpackers, despite the illegality of it. Basically, the lucky bastards that were selected earned roughly, NZ$150 a day, just to get made up as orcs, elves, or humans, to stand in the background and fight with a sword or bow. (How come nothing like that ever happens to me?)

Yet, despite my inability to be picked as a movie extra for a major blockbuster film, I had an amazing time on my own quest around Middle-Zealand. I drank hot chocolate at the Shire (as well as saw a sheep shearing), tramped through the Dead Marshes to the foot of Mt. Doom, and even posed for picture in Rivendell and visited the Weta Workshop where I got to see all the memorabilia, weapons, armor, and other assorted heroic props from Lord of the Rings, and other movies.

More than anything I think this nerdy little quest of mine has jazzed up my artistic juices and again further strengthened my resolve to not allow my own creative ideas and impulses go to waste. So, just like Sam and Frodo I return from my journey not a man of greater wealth, but a man of greater knowledge and understanding both of the world around me and of myself. I feel as if I did not see Middle-Earth, so much as I saw the possibilities of Middle-Earth, and the possibilities that exist when one trusts in their own ideas and follows their dreams.

All that is gold does not glitter, and not all those who wander are lost.

Adam's Adventures in NZ: Episode II: The Attack of the Climbs

Geothermal Vents and boiling lakes of fire.

According to Joseph Campbell's theory of Monomyth, or more commonly known as The Hero's Journey, before receiving the "boon" which moves the hero from simple mortal to mythic figure, it is a requirement that said hero must first endure a trip through the underworld, either physically (as is the case with Ulysses and Aeneas,) or figuratively (such as Luke Skywalker's descent and long through the lower levels of Cloud City.) On my Unheroic Journey, I felt a literal journey through the land of the dead would probably have been a bit too extreme (and only one airline flies there, Charon Airlines, and their prices are outrageous. I mean 2 Denarii? Really?). Anyway, I settled for a journey through New Zealand. After all, when one is already in the land down under how much further down can one go? (answer: New Zealand)

I began my journey on the North Island of this bold new (under)world. So after departing the disappointing city that is Auckland, like Perseus, I set out in my rental car(s) on my most current of adventures. Over the next two and a half weeks I would find myself faced with not only some of the most amazing natural wonders I have ever seen, but some of the most deadly. I say deadly, only because when one journeys through the Land of the Kiwi, you cannot help but keep it somewhere in the back of your mind that at any point the ground may literally give way from under your feet. Whether your eventual end come from volcanic fissures, violent upheavals of weather, and of course earthquakes, there are plenty of fun and interesting ways to go.

Most of these severe conditions are due to New Zealand's volatile placement in the Ring of Fire (The series of converging tectonic plates located around the Pacific Ocean, but they are fond of Johnny Cash as well).
It is funny how you can realize something on an intellectual level, but the truth of a knowledge isn't dully realized till you find yourself in a place such as New Zealand. For me such an epiphany came when I arrive in the town of Rotorua. The sewers and grates on the street were venting steam, and my initial thought was, "Well its a cold day, and this sort of thing is natural in New York City on cold days. Maybe a lot of people have their dryers running."

It wasn't until I made a further inspection (led by the sulfurous smell of rotten eggs) that I discovered that the streets of this seemingly normal and widely-populated (By Kiwi standards) town were in fact venting not steam, but geothermic ash and smoke. It is sort of a cold realization that comes over you when you realize you are staying at hostel that is built in a town that is built over a very young and rather active geothermal vent (IE, a volcano that has not happened yet.)

Featured above are my New Zealand rental cars
Top: Gandalf the Grey
Bottom: Gandalf the Powderd Blue

So, instead of leaving well enough alone (because what fun is that,) I got back in my car and tramped my way out to the Waimangu Volcanic Valley, which was only a few miles down the road. The valley claims to be the world's newest geothermal system (in other words it could blow at any time.) So I was overcharged for a small brochure and vague directions that led me to a walking trail where I could explore the vent system to my heart's content. It is not until you are staring at a boiling bubbling lake, (which I know from personal experience, is hot to the touch) surrounded by mountains venting steam and ash like a chimney that you suddenly realize how vulnerable we as humans are to the whim of our mother planet. All along the walking and climbing routes in Waimangu there were "evacuation" points where one was to run to in case something happened. As if my running to a bus stop was going to save me from a massive implosion of superheated gases being channeled directly from the Earth's fiery interior. Still, as unnerving as it can be to walk (in other words, climb) around massive craters with names like. Inferno Crater, Explosion Crater, and Echo Crater (okay that last one isn't too intimidating,) it can also be startlingly beautiful. I suppose growing up in New Jersey I have grown accustomed to a sort of singleness of nature.

Sure New Jersey has its seasons and its temperaments, but no one walking the boardwalks of Atlantic City, driving along the Garden State Parkway, or marrying their cousin in the Pinelands ever has to worry about the ground suddenly opening up a portal that leads directly to a fiery hell. (After all, we already have a portal to hell in New Jersey, its called Camden.)

However, if I -along the course of my quest across New Zealand- needed further reminder of this unremarkable uniqueness, danger, and beauty of this country, than there was no better place to find it than at one of my next stops, Tongariro National Park. It is one of the most famous parks in New Zealand, mostly for its eight-hour hiking walk called the Tongariro Alpine Crossing which is touted as one of the most beautiful hikes in the world. I unfortunately was not fully prepared to embark on this particular walk, as the journey does lead you above 1,500 feet, and I had no clothing or provisions to tackle the snow which I would have encountered at such heights, and the weather was not really great. Still, I did do the beginning part of the hike (which found me laboriously climbing to only smaller heights such as 1,000 feet), which was rife with reminders and instructions of what to do in case of an eruption as one of the park's main attractions Mt. Ngāuruhoe, the still and active volcano that last erupted in 1975 (Basically, get out of the path of lava flows). However, I was not fully deterred from reaching greater heights as I found I could drive up to the peaks of one of the park's mountains (or as close as you can get to it).

The road was treacherous, as the day was misty (its always misty in New Zealand), cloudy, and of course wet. The roads were narrow and full of sharp turns, but despite all that I navigated them with all the skill I have acquired over the sum of my driving experience in Australia and New Zealand. There was only once when I nearly lost control, and that was when the cloud parted to reveal an off white shape. At first I thought it was just a peculiar cloud formation hidden behind a grayer cloud formation, but I soon realized that what I mistook for the whiteness of a cloud was in fact snow. I suppose I have never seen the jagged snow-capped peak of a true mountain so up close before, because the sight was simply unbelievable. I found myself gazing at a true mountain in all sense of the world. Its white top and imposing features only served to intensify my sudden feeling of smallness and insignificance when faced with the awesome time-spanning power of nature. (I think I elegantly summed it all up in a loud uncontrolled expletive that started with "s" and ended with "t.") More amazingly, amidst all the ice, snow, mist, and volcanic debris there exists a world of natural life. In a place where everything could go horribly wrong in so many ways, plants and animals seem to not only survive but thrive in the nutrient rich soil of snow covered volcanoes.

Waitomo Glowworm Caves

Yet, that seems to be the norm in the country. Life exists where it shouldn't which was best illustrated to me at the Waitomo Glowworm Caves. If you have just read that name and are a little confused, do not be. The caves are exactly what they sound like. Basically, you take a tour through darkened caves learning the history of the caves and the insect known as the glowworm (the small larval form an ugly insect that glows its tail to attract food) before boarding a boat and setting off down a darkened river overhead which you see one of the most amazing natural sights you can imagine. I can only describe it as looking at the nighttime sky with thousands of small points of light glowing down at you, only you are in a cave. The ceiling of the cave is literally covered in glowworms each casting their soft-light for all to see. Unfortunately, cameras were not allowed as they would disrupt the small creatures, but you will have to take my word that is was one of the weirdest and most amazing things I have seen (as far as insects go.) To me it seemed only a small reminder that the world is full of so much strangeness and wonder.

New Zealand is a place unlike any other. On the plus side since New Zealand was once full submerged below the sea there are no snakes or spiders that could potentially kill a man in a matter of moments, unlike Australia, (on the downside, you still need to avoid the lava flows.) Yet, nature here can still be violent and beautiful, astounding and even downright bizarre at times, but if there is one thing this country teaches a traveler is that you cannot underestimate or under appreciate the world on which we live. I mean if you ever do, that is probably when it will kill you. 

Adam's Adventures in NZ: The Maori, The Brits, and the Wardrobe

After I lost my stick catching game. Maori
facial markings below the cheeks represent
skills in the material world. Most women would
have had the traditional chin tattoos as it
marked them as mothers and carefgivers.

Among many of the activities and trips I took while in New Zealand, I went to the Tamaki Maori Village in Rotorua to learn more about the Maori people (the indigenous people of New Zealand), and their culture. Also, the trip included performances of native singing, dancing, and an all you eat traditional Hangi meal (cooked in the ground). So even though I went for the food I found myself discovering a native people which are more fascinating than any I have encountered.

The Maori (Mar-ee) are of Eastern Polynesian descent. They are very similar in look to native Hawaiians, or native Samoans, but over the centuries of isolation they have developed not only a unique culture and language, but also a very distinct outlook on the world. They call New Zealand, "Aotearoa," which means The Long White Cloud. They are a tribal society, adept at planting, fishing, and the craft of war. When Europeans arrived in New Zealand in the 1700's, initial contact was considered amicable. The Maori generally embraced the arrival of the newcomers as it opened up new opportunities for trade. By 1830, there were estimated to be as much as 2,000 Pakeha (white people) living among the tribes of Maori around New Zealand. Their status often ranged from slaves and prisoners to missionaries and those who simply went native. It was also during this time that the introduction of the musket into tribal warfare upset the balance of power among the Maori people, which came to be known as the Musket Wars and resulted in the utter devastation of several tribes. Also contributing to the reduction of the native people's numbers were the usual gamut of diseases that Europeans carried. Everything from the measles to the common flu killed off almost 50 percent of the Maori people.

In January 1840, the British Crown official annexed New Zealand as a colony, and in February of that same year the Treaty of Waitangi, was signed. This treaty is probably one of the most significant native treaty documents ever signed. First off, there is a dispute over what the treaty itself called for. There are claims that the English version of the treaty called for the Maori to secede the sovereignty of their lands to the British, while the Maori version said nothing of this particular clause. Secondly, the treaty guaranteed the Maori people that they would be able to stay on the lands they currently occupied. Thus, for a while everyone was happy, but with all things of colonialism, the colonists did not abide by the treaty for very long. By the 1860's the British Crown was selling of Maori land to settlers and cattle farmers. This led to the New Zealand Wars, fought between British troops and Maori warriors. in 1862 the Native Land Court was set up to further transfer communal native lands to individual ownership and the Maori found themselves being pushed farther and farther away from their tribal lands. it was after this that the native population began to go into decline, with only a little over 40,000 Maori people remaining by 1896.

However, the Maori, unlike almost any other native culture I have seen, have always had a way of not only retaining their own identity, but of reinventing themselves to not just survive, but thrive. As an example, the reason we call them Maori and not "Natives," "Aboriginals," or other European-esque identifications, is because the Maori themselves agreed upon the name in a pan-tribal way. Maori means "normal," or "ordinary." Thus, in what I find a very ironic twist of colonialism, it is the native people who are identified as the norm while the European colonists are called Pakeha, which basically means "Those White People." Moreover, the Maori people are highly adaptive to western ways. Even as far back as the eighteenth century the Maori began selectively adapting elements of Western society, such as European clothing, food, and even education and architecture. Many Maori made quite a profit off of the Europeans that arrived in their land and by the early 19th century a political party arose in the New Zealand Parliament called the Young Maori Party. Among the members was a young Maori politician named James Carroll which even became acting prime minister for a time. Because of their influence and knowledge of colonial politics they were able to ignite a revitalization of the Maori culture.

Maori dinner cooked traditional Hangi style. In otherwords,
the food is buried underground for hours with hot coals.

During my time in the Maori Village I met several interesting Maori people, including the owner of the village who was more than happy to share a laugh as much as his love for the New Zealand Rugby team (The All Blacks.) Him and his family showed us traditional Maori weaponry, facial markings, dances, building construction, and of course dinner. Our food was cooked in a Hangi (which basically a hole in the ground where the food was placed over smoldering coals for several hours.) Everything from the fish to the lamb was cooked to perfection and the carrots and potatoes were some of the best I think I have ever tasted. The Maori dances and songs were amazing and combined with an acoustic guitar they were hauntingly beautiful at times. I had an amazing time learning about this interesting people. I even got to play a traditional Maori game which was taught to kids to improve their warrior and weapon skills. (I lost)

Yet perhaps, what has impressed me most about the Maori is not so much how they survived, but how they adapted and yet kept a distinctive and amazing cultural identity. Modern Maori not only retain their unique sort of beliefs, but they have adapted those beliefs to take into account modern science, christian religion, and understanding. Their culture has grown with the times, adapting Western ideas to native traditions. Modern Maori live in houses, drive cars, go to work, have pensions, pay taxes, yet they remain distinctly their own people. Some even choose to retain traditional facial tattoos. During World War I and World War II, the New Zealand Army fielded a Maori Battalion, which was said to be made up of some of the fiercest of soldiers on the fields of Europe. Combining ancestral warrior traditions with modern warfare made sure that the 28th New Zealand preformed with distinction in places like Crete, North Africa, and Italy. There was an especially large explosion of Maori culture during the 1960's. As a result both Maori and Pakeha began adopting Maori ideas, language, and tradition. As such New Zealand today is as much made up of Maori culture as it is of Western culture. Any signs you find in New Zealand are written in both English and Maori, sometimes with the Maori coming first. As most Americans know at least a little Spanish, most Kiwi know at least a little Maori, with it being the second most widely-spoken language in the country. All the places you go in New Zealand do not have European names, like Smithtown or Cook Cove, but have Maori names like Rotorua, Lake Tekapo, Te Anu, etc. (I am horrible at pronunciation.)

In the New Zealand Parliament there are seven seats designated for Maori representatives, which are routinely filled by Maori elected in general elections through populace votes. There is even a separate Maori political body, (and while I was in New Zealand the Maori people just elected a new King.) It is common to find Maori in the national spotlight, and several of New Zealand's best Rugby players are Maori (and trust me their is no greater way to a Kiwi's heart than through Rugby.) Most startlingly, during the 1990's the Maori people got the British Crown to officially apologize for breaking the Treaty of Waitangi, and providing over NZ$900 million dollars in settlements for stolen lands. It was the largest settlement ever awarded to a native population and the apology was signed by the queen herself. Queen Elizabeth signed the apology in person and this is not only the first time the sovereign of Britain ever signed such an apology to a native people, but it was the first time Queen Elizabeth ever signed any document in public.

Because of their resiliency and tenacity the population of Maori has surged. To date there are more than 660,000 Maori people in New Zealand which makes up roughly 15% of the nation's population. Maori are everywhere. They are lawyers, doctors, politicians, actors, teachers, shop owners, sports stars, and of course surfers (everyone loves a surfer.)

Adam's Adventures in NZ: The Fellowship of Me

Because what kind of trip would it be without a picture of an
ironic and symbolic road sign?

Question: What country is perpetually lost in the shadow of its larger and more influential brother, has a slightly smaller population of people, but has a similar yet slightly funnier sounding accent to that of their more well known cousin-country, is populated by nice courteous people, has snow, follows hockey, and has glaciers? If you answered anything else but New Zealand, you would be wrong. (Ahh, I tricked you.) They truly are the Canada of the Southern Hemisphere. It is a statement I feel confident in saying as many Canadians that I have met has agreed with me. However, I also have to point that the Kiwi (That is what you call someone from New Zealand) also has a fierce rivalry with their Aussie cousins, that Australia barely knows about or pays attention to. It is very similar to how Canadians think of Americans and how Americans never think of Canadians... at all.

So I decided that while I was guest in this part of the world I would be remiss if I did not spend some time in Australia's little brother. Thus, after spending a night sleeping in Sydney Airport, I hopped a Qantas flight to Auckland, New Zealand. On arrival I was met with a security inspection where (just like when I landed in Australia) I was pulled aside for a more "thorough" check. Apparently, to the people of New Zealand, I look suspicious... Regardless, once I managed to get through security, exchange my funny looking Australian money for funny looking New Zealand money, and collect my rental car, I found myself in a place that I can only describe as a mixture between Ireland and Hawaii. After more than 5 months in Australia I feel like I might have forgotten what real green grass looked like, but there is plenty to see in the emerald isles of New Zealand. It is interesting how Australia and New Zealand can be so close to one another yet they could not be more different.

Ahh, reminds me of some cold Saddle Brook nights.

Even the Kiwi history is distinct and all its own. The first people to reach the country were of Polynesian descent around 1280 AD. The first European to arrive in New Zealand was the Dutch explorer, Abel Tasman. Dutch cartographers named the land Nova Zeeland, after the Dutch province of Zeeland. It was Captain James Cook (yeah that guy again) that would anglicise it to become New Zealand. Cook visited the islands in 1770, about a 100 years after Abel Tasman. Afterwards, the waters around New Zealand started becoming used by British, French, and American whalers and trading ships. The native Maori people were uncanny traders and enjoyed bartering for the new goods. Of course after traders came missionaries to bring religion to the "Godless Heathens," but that is another story. When Sydney was founded in 1788, the Australian colonists (prisoners) showed no real interest in New Zealand. (Why would we want that lush tropical islands, when we can have this arid desert?) However, at this point the islands of New Zealand had become sort of a haven for escaped prisoners, sailors, and anyone looking to escape government. Partially, in response to this in 1839, the Australian colony of New South Wales was expanded to include New Zealand. What followed next was what usually follows when the British move into areas already populated by indigenous people. Promises were made and broken, and in 1841 New Zealand was established as a separate colony from Australia. The next 40 years would see a sharp increase in immigration with people coming from England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland, the United States, India, and China. The discovery of Gold in 1861 spurred the quick and rapid settling of New Zealand's south island. The south island event tried to become its own separate colony, but that motion was defeated 17 to 31.

In 1901, when Australia became a commonwealth it invited New Zealand along, but the Kiwi didn't really like that idea. So in 1907, they decided to become their own commonwealth. This sort of casual rejection of anything Australian will partially mark the culture of New Zealand for the next hundred years. Try calling a Kiwi an Aussie and you'll probably get a swift punch in the nose (okay so maybe they're not as polite as Canadians, but really who is.)

Auckland, New Zealand. The City of Ehh...

I started my New Zealand adventure by staying my first day in Auckland. It is the largest and most populated city in New Zealand. With that said I was able to walk through the entire downtown area in a little over an hour. I must admit to not having a true affinity for this city, that should be the New York City of New Zealand (or at least the Vancouver of new Zealand.) However, in my travels I learned that I was not alone. Most backpackers, and most Kiwi themselves seem to not particularly like Auckland. It is a place almost devoid of any sort of cultural feel or outstanding uniqueness to it (aside from the Wendy's restaurant I found in the downtown area.) The city has a harbor, a marina area, a large mall, and a skytower, which was built 50 meters taller than the Centrepoint Tower in Sydney. (They just couldn't resist.) Perhaps the most exciting feature of Auckland was Mt. Eden which offered a panoramic view of the city, but I couldn't tell you much about it, since when I hiked up to its summit I was met with nothing but mist and fog (a trend that would seem to follow me through the rest of my adventuring in this country.)

A Kiwi who I met told me that the best thing about Auckland was leaving it, and I couldn't help but agree. So after a night of sleeping in my car I was more than eager to set off on my quest across this strange new country. I say quest because for anyone who truly knows me, you know one of the real reasons I came to New Zealand (Hint: 13-letters, Ruler of jewelery,) but that is another blog.

For the majority of my stay in New Zealand I found myself driving through lush forests, towering mountains, and rolling fields of farm yards and cattle. There is no denying the natural beauty and wonder of this small and interesting country. Both the North and South Islands sit on geological fault lines which cause the formations of massive volcanoes, earthquakes, and ice flows. The whole damn country is ready to explode and sink back into the sea at any moment, but maybe that is part of the fun. The geology of this country is very much alive and because of that its beauty is all that more startling. There is so much to do and see on these two small islands that I feel as if I did not give myself ample enough time to see or experience even a faction of it. Though, I did try and I can only hope you will choose to stay with me as I venture across this newer and stranger country.

Sydney Wildlife

Lego Boxing Kangaroo

While in Sydney I spent a good part of my time exploring the wilder side of life, and I'm not talking about the rendition of "Livin on a Prayer" I sang at the Karaoke bar one night. I mean to say that I went and saw many forms of wildlife and sea creatures, and I don't mean my two German friends: Hans and Brunhilde who followed me to Sydney. (Those two are like a bad cold you can't just seem to get rid of... a very bad and scary cold.)

Anyway, I bought an inclusive pass to visit the Sydney Aquarium, Wildlife Park, Sydney Centerpointe Tower, and Manly Ocean World. This proved to be a pretty good decision as the weather for most of my time in Sydney was nothing but overcast and rainy days. So instead of spending my time with the wildlife that inhabited the streets of the city I, along with a few friends, spent a good deal of it with the wildlife that inhabited the sanctuaries of the city.

Yeallow Footed Wallaby

My first stop was the Aquarium where I found not only a variety of Australian Stingrays (is it wrong all i could think about was Steve Irwin?), Sharks, and Legos. The good people at the Lego Company seemed to have loaned several works of lego-art to Sydney and its wildlife sanctuaries. Each was a beautiful piece of work and to a lego enthusiast from way back, like me, it was an added bonus. However, the real thrill was the the kilometer of underwater tunnels that ran below the tanks of the aquarium. From the vantage point you could watch hundred of thousands of native tropical Australia fish swim amongst not only stingrays (poor Irwin) but sharks and manatees. Maybe i am naive to find this somewhat exciting, but it was an amazing sight to see, mostly because I finally realized that "Finding Nemo" is set in the waters of Australia, because I swear I saw every single freakin fish in that movie that was in that tank. I find you learn new things every day.

My second stop was the Sydney Wildlife Sanctuary and all its animals, including the usual assortment of kangaroos, koalas, and spiders (ugh). The insect section was particularly painful, especially when I was presented with spiders so big that if they escaped they could only way to put them down would be with a hunting rifle (and I'm talking about the kind you need for bears. .22 caliber or other small shots would only make it angry and escalate the situation into a cheesy 50's horror movie... Packers...) I did however make it in time to see Rex, one of the oldest and largest fresh water crocodile in captivity.

Rex is 5 meters long (15 feet), and 700 kilograms (1,543 pounds), and currently he is roughly 40 years old (he's a cold war kid.) Apparently, he was captured in the Northern Territory, as he had a taste for local pets and was captured for the safety of both Rex (the croc) and Rex (the beloved dog). He also lives alone as he has killed and eaten the two other crocodiles that used to live in his habitat. Unfortunately I did not make it in time for feeding, as food is dangled from a high railing above Rex's head, as the croc who weighs more than my car is forced to jump out of the water and snag the hanging meat. I have seen other crocodiles eat while I was in the Northern Territory, but none as large as Rex. I got very close to him (behind 10 inches of reinforced Plexiglas) and his length is amazing. I could never believe anything was that big.

You're lucky to have Zoidberg as a friend.
 But cross me and I'll turn on you like that!

As amazing as the killing machine, Rex, is I also found plenty of other interesting creatures, among them the Yellow Footed Rock Wallaby. It is basically a small kangaroo with big ears and a ringed tail. Another surprisingly peaceful place was the butterfly habitat. Basically a large deck situated in a green forest there are thousands of different kinds of butterflies fluttering around your head, which more often than not come to settle on you. I never knew butterflies could come in so many colors. I saw everything from deep hues of blue and purples to vibrant almost neon green.

Manly Ocean World was somewhat less impressive unfortunately, but it was free (even if it only took 15 minutes to walk through.) I did however get to encounter a tank of cuddle fish, which is the oddest sea creature I have probably ever seen.

I was glad for my time to explore the Aussie Animal kingdom and I met some pretty interesting above land and water animals that are unique to the deadliest continent in the world, including the top ten poisonous snakes in the world, the deadliest sharks, crocodiles, jellyfish, and of course the spiders (oh God, the spiders...) I feel pretty satisfied that I have seen most of the weirdest and wildest this hemisphere has to offer... well all except one creature... The kiwi, but that's another story.

Suddenly Sydney

Yeah... There's that...

Thus it was that I arrived in probably the most iconic city of Australia, Sydney. Even Americans that do not know much about Australia (and that is a good deal of Americans) have at least heard of Sydney with its Opera House, Harbor Bridge, and so much more.

I spent ten days in Sydney and I question whether that was enough. There is a great deal to see and do in this large and historic city. It is the site of the "First Fleet," and the first European settlement on the continent of Australia. Established in 1788 by Captain Arthur Philip the city was originally called Port Jackson with only the harbor cove being named Sydney, but eventually the name came to encompass the entire colony. On July 20, 1842 the municipal council of Sydney was formed and the Sydney was declared the first official city of the colony of Australia. It has been called the "Siren City of the South," and the "Athens of Australia." It is the most diverse city in Australia as it is usually the first stop for visitors and immigrants alike. It is a diversity that shows itself in the ever expanding district of China Town, or in the number of Greek and Slovak restaurants one sees on the street corners, tempting me with kebabs...

Regardless, for a person who has spent the better part of his life growing up in the shadows of New York City, Sydney was almost like coming home. I found myself once again enmeshed in a forest of skyscrapers, traffic, and impatient pedestrians all crowding across busy intersections as they fast walk their way across this vast metropolis. My first official act in this new place was to take the free city tour offered by my hostel. (Emphasis on "free") It was a basic get to know your surroundings type of tour that showed a noobie like me the key places to focus my energies over the next ten days.

Darling Harbor

Our first stop was Darling Harbor. It used to be the old harbor for shipping and commerce, but in modern times the commercial harbor was moved down to Botany Bay (KHAAAN!... You're going to have figure that reference out for yourselves, folks.) So to save the harbor from abject poverty and despair, the city transformed Darling Harbor into a downtown shopping area and high-class eatery district, complete with a Starbucks. (Basically it is the kind of place I couldn't afford to be in, but it was nice to look at.) It is also home to the Maritime Museum, and the failed Sydney Monorail... which is an interesting story...

(Please tell us... Well, because you asked...) Basically twenty years ago the monorail system was paid for by the city as a way to modernize Sydney and bring a new way to relieve traffic and congestion. (Not a bad idea.) However, once the monorail began construction, several sections of the city began to protest that having the elevated track run through their streets would detract from the historic and natural beauty of the city. Thus, the track kept getting pushed further and further back from the main areas of the city, until eventually it became pretty much useless as a mode of public transportation. However, since the city had the grant to construct it it was basically erected around Darling Harbor and the outlying shopping area. It goes in a long loop, and its only purpose is to entertain bored tourists. I actually find this sort of indecision and second-guessing pretty common in Australia. Aussies usually have grand ideas of change and modern thinking, but when it comes time to implementation, they often shy away from it, like a child that climbed a tall tree, and decides against jumping once they are at the top.

Even with this sort of indecision permeating the culture, Sydney is still a modern city in all senses of the word. It has its iconic places such as the Opera House, Centre-Point Tower, and Hyde Park (if that sounds familiar its because the Aussies named it after Hyde Park in London.) And, in a true show of modernity the city is basically covered in malls. In fact, Westfield (The people who built up the Garden State Plaza) decided that the one thing Centre-Point Tower needed was a huge five-level mall around it. Don't get me wrong it is a nice mall, but it seems a little much to erect it around the tallest building in downtown Sydney. (Yep that is a tall structure... you know what it needs, A Mall!)

However, even with all this shocking civilization surrounding me, I was not prepared for the view I was treated to at the end of my walking tour, the Sydney Opera House. It is funny in a way. I mean I knew it existed and I knew it was in Sydney and it was definitely on my list of places to visit, but it is such an iconic building that seeing it with my own eyes was almost a moment I wasn't prepared for. Its iconic sails rose over the harbor and drew the eye, regardless of where else you looked. I assume it is the same way when people see the Statue of Liberty or the Hollywood sign. These things become so linked in culture and identity that they take on almost a mythic form in the mind. Seeing the Opera House in the flesh (sort of speak) is like going to Disney World as a child and seeing Mickey Mouse. Both the Opera House and the Harbor Bridge were everything I expected and more. (I have a lot of picture to prove that too.)

CentrePoint Tower, second highest building in the
Souther Hemisphere, only because New Zealand
Cheated. Their sky tower has a higher antenna.

Yet, there is more to Sydney than just its iconic structures and crowded streets. There are many iconic suburbs and places outside the city, such as Manly Beach and Bondi Beach. Both were recommended to me as places worth seeing and they both did not fail to disappoint. I found Manly to be a picturesque resort town complete with sailboats and golden sunset at the mouth of Sydney Harbor. I took the ferry over (as was recommended to me by a friend), and traveled back on the ferry at sunset to watch the sun sink behind the Harbor Bridge and cast its rosy rays on the bay and Opera House (thus, I took more pictures). Bondi Beach, on the other hand, is more of a vibrant beach going town that attracts college kids and surfers (like the Aussie version of Belmar.) It is known for its tremendous surf and I could see why. The waves I witnessed on my cold day of a visit must have been at least eight-feet high. I found myself walking the cliffs high atop craggy rocks and monstrous crashing surf. I was as far away from the tall towers of the downtown as you could get, yet even then I knew that these two different and beautiful beaches were not only distinctly Australian, but distinctly Sydney. The city has a feel, much like how any city does, but there something indescribable about the metropolitan Mecca of Australia.


In the past I have said Melbourne has more a Philadelphia-ness to it, with its small bistros, dedication to the arts, and savage fandom over sports teams, than I would say that Sydney is definitely the Australian New York, but something else as well. It has the buildings, but less population. It has the "hustle and bustle," but with the underlying Australian-ness to it (In other words, still a bit slower than New York.) It is a place that seems almost unique in the world. Do not get me wrong, as much as I enjoyed Sydney, my heart will always be with my adopted home of Melbourne, and the simpler days and friends I met there, but I do not want to understate how enjoyable I found the "Big City." Perhaps, traveling is definitely beginning to take its toll on me. Regardless, Sydney was a nice place to put down some roots for an extended amount of time, meet some people, and get into some trouble outside of the usual trouble I get into. All in all, (despite what Melbournians would say), Sydney is not a bad little town.

It's Not Easy Bein' Blue

Blue Mountains, from waaaay up.

My last stop on my tour of Victoria and News South Wales was the Blue Mountains. It is the mountainous region that most closely borders Sydney. It is also listed as a World Heritage site by the United Nations, so I knew it had to be on my list of things to check out (because the UN is obviously the wisest and best run organization on the planet...) The Blue Mountains get there name from the bluish hues that the mountains take on when seen from a distance. The color is created by a mixture of atmospheric light deflection or mie scattering, combined with the abundance of eucalyptus trees which can be found on the forested slopes. (Wikipedia lists the reasoning as caused "when incoming ultraviolet radiation is scattered by particles within the atmosphere creating a blue-greyish colour to any distant objects, including mountains and clouds. Volatile terpenoids emitted in large quantities by the abundant eucalyptus trees in the Blue Mountains may cause mie scattering and thus the blue haze for which the mountains were named." I hope that cleared up any questions.)

When visiting the Blue Mountains it is sometimes hard to find a good day for viewing the range as the area is also known for constant fog and mist, I however (and for once), was lucky. Especially considering that for the better part of my Five-Day Mission it was rainy and foggy. To state the obvious the view was breathtaking, and something I could never begin to describe on this humble electronic page, so you'll just have to take my word for that. However, I was a bit vexed over the accessibility of the mountains themselves. I experienced a few problems during my time on the mountains, that may be worth noting, because I always want to share my mistakes with the Internet.

First off, I went to the Blue Mountains without a very concrete plan on where I needed to go and what I needed to see. I just assumed I would find an information office and grab some leaflets on the major sights and attractions. So when setting the destination on my GPS, I naturally selected the address for the Blue Mountains National Park. This all seemed rather simple at the begging of my journey, but what the GPS failed to inform me, in that tiny female voice of her's, was that the Blue Mountains National Park did not official begin until you are several hundred feet off the ground. Thus, it was that I followed the directions onto a road that eventually turned to gravel, and then eventually turned to dirt, and then eventually turned to pitted dirt full of holes that were capable of swallowing my little yellow four-door coup. (You could understand how that probably would have lost me my deposit.) All of this happened while the Yellow Hornet and I were steeply ascending up the side of a rather intimidating mountain. Still like a man possessed I plowed on. In hindsight alarm bells should have started the minute I saw hikers wearing 4-inch spiked climbing shoes and carrying day packs full of water, or 4x4 Trucks and SUV's fighting their way up the same road I was now forcing my laughably undersized car to climb.

I reached the peak of my journey near the hiking track for the Golden Stairs, which is the most famous and serious hiking trails in the entire range. I was tipped off to this by the sign that labeled the 9-hour track's difficulty as "You're Probably Going to Die." I however, had just ascended up several hundred feet over terrain that no man in his right mind would have crossed, so I was feeling lucky. I had no intention of doing the entire hike, as I was armed with nothing but sneakers, a small water bottle, jeans, a light-jacket, and a stick I found leaning against the start of the trail (obviously where its previous owner had left it after falling several miles to his gruesome death.) I hiked out for about twenty minutes in one direction, before the sheer stupidity of what I was doing began to dawn on me. I can't be sure if it happened while I was clinging to the face of a rock wall in a desperate attempt not to get too close to some of sheer drops I faced, or if it was the German hiker I met as he headed past me in the opposite direction, and his look of general alarm at my under-prepared attire. Regardless, I turned back, but before I did, I found myself towering over a majestic panoramic valley full of startling mountains, and wide deep valleys. The distance of everything was almost beyond comprehension, especially as the horizon of blue mountains rose up in the far distance to meet the blue sky.

The Three Sisters

Following my high-flying stupidity and return to sea level, I was finally able to locate the visitor's center and more level walking paths from which the Blue Mountains could be viewed, though at a lower elevation. The only problem with this was that the walking paths all ran from the visitor center along a constructed viewing platform from where one could view the Three Sisters rock formation. Around that viewing platform were parking meters. As I could not leave the Yellow Hornet in a metered spot (because I'm not paying 2 dollars for 30 minutes of parking,) I had to drive outside of the town center to find an unmetered spot. I accomplished this, but found that the spot I was parked in had a time limit of two hours. I originally, thought this to be no problem, and I set off to explore.

I first took in the Three Sisters, which is famous for an Aboriginal legend that surrounds three sisters of the Katoomba tribe that fell in love with three men from the neighbouring Nepean tribe, but marriage was forbidden (as it so often in in these stories.) The brothers were not happy to accept this and so decided to use force to capture the three sisters causing a major tribal battle. Battle ensued, and the sisters were turned to stone by an elder to protect them (because that's what you do... I personally would have turned the opposing army into stone, but that's just me). Anyway this elder was killed in the fighting and no one else could turn them back. It is an interesting tale, which turns out was created by white Australians in the 1930's to generate tourism for that area of the Blue Mountains, but I digress.

Katoomba Falls

The sight was amazing and I then wished to journey to see Katoomba Falls, a misty spraying water fall that hung high over the valley itself. The walk time listed the trek as an hour there and an hour back. This complicated my life as I knew I had just wasted 20 minutes looking at, (and taking stupid pictures of myself with,) the Three Sisters. So I did the only thing any rational person would, I walked very fast. It turns out that their two-hour track can be done in one hour and fifteen minutes, and there is still enough time for sightseeing, picture taking, and even philosophical pondering (admittedly, this was my fifth day of me by myself, with no other substantial human contact to speak of, and I was probably going a little stir crazy.) The falls were amazing.

I finished up the rest of my day by traveling around the Blue Mountains and taking in some of the random wonders that were located in the valley regions around the mountain such as the Leura Cascades or the myriad of lookout points around the slopes of the mountains. I was exhausted by the end, but I felt pretty accomplished. Not only had I seen beautiful scenery, but I had defied death on top of a mountain, navigated my way up a cratered road, dodged a parking ticket, and even broke the walking track record for the Katoomba Falls Hiking Trail. Yes, I went to sleep tired and happy, knowing that in the morning it would be back to civilization, and city life, and boy what a city...

Mr. Brunner Goes to Canberra

Old Australian Parliament Building

So it was that I came to the sparkling city of Canberra (Can-bra), the center of Australian government and politics. It is a city that exists for no other reason but to exist... I'm getting ahead of myself. In the early 20th Century after the Federation of Australia, the debate turned to which colonial city should be the Aussie capital city. The two favored were (...surprise... surprise...) Melbourne and Sydney. At the time, Melbourne was Australia's largest city and the obvious place for the capital. Western Australia, South Australia, and Victoria supported Melbourne for the capital. However, New South Wales, (which was the largest colony,) and Queensland, favoured Sydney, as it was the original Australian colony, it was far older than Melbourne, and it was the only other major city in Australia (not much has changed). Tasmania, was off doing its own thing. I don't think the six people who lived there really cared... Anyway, this deadlock might have been resolved, but the Sydney-Melbourne rivalry is so fierce (even to this day) that it was clear neither city would ever agree to letting the other one becoming the capital.

Thus, similar to how and why Washington DC was built, the Aussies decided to create the city of Canberra, ATC (Australian Capital Territory). Melbourne remained the capital on a temporary basis while a new capital was built somewhere between Sydney and Melbourne. The idea was that the ATC was supposed to be halfway between Melbourne and Sydney, but because of terrain and some obscure article of the Australian Constitution that said it had to be located within New South Wales, Canberra is actually much closer to Sydney (roughly little over a 100 miles away). The new city was built in the foothills of the Australian Alps (Those small mountains that almost killed me in the last post). As for the city itself, Canberra is a planned city. When one looks out over Canberra it is hard to believe that it even is a city. The whole place is set to look like one big park, with strategically placed trees, monuments, and topographical features used to obscure any sort of typical city skyline. However, this also means that it tends to be a long walk from point to another over rolling green parks and across picturesque river settings. (By the end of the day I gave up walking and starting driving the several kilometer it took to get from one monument to another.) Another interesting fact about Canberra is that it is populated almost entirely by government employees... so its kind of like Trenton.

There she is, Julia Gillard... the woman who kicked a footy
around the White House.

I stayed two nights in the overpriced Canberra Youth Hostel right in the downtown area, giving myself a full day of activity and exploration, along with two familiar faces. I once again found myself face-to-face mustached face with Hans and Brunhilde. This would not be the last time I would see my scary German companions. However, despite my encounters, the morning after my arrival I arose refreshed and ready to dive head first into the governmental affairs of my temporary home. So I struck out toward the Parliament District of the city, crossing across the gardened landscape and eventually crossing Lake Peter Griffin... I mean Lake Burley Griffin. My first stop was the Old Parliament building. It was situated on a natural rise and looked over several miles of a straight land across the lake and toward the Canberra War Memorial. It was a nice old building, but what really interested me was the display of all the international flags that were set along the lakes edge. In the rising sun it was beautiful. After a stroll through the International Flag Display, I headed to the real "meat and potatoes" of the city, the New Parliament building and the giant Australian flag that flew over it. As I approached the nerve center of the country, I could feel the old stirrings take hold in my breast. It was the old excitement and wonder that would sometimes awaken within me back when I was working for the State of New Jersey. I knew I was near a place of importance. (I mean it is the Australian Parliament, that makes it at least as important as the New Jersey General Assembly.)

I dressed up a little for the occasion, as I felt it was appropriate. I strolled into the marble lined lobby, after as somewhat surprisingly simplistic security check. The place was a buzz of activity as there were House Budgetary Committee Hearings being conducted as well as a Senatorial Panel discussing global warming and the implementation of the Prime Minister's controversial Carbon Tax (Basically a tax placed on Australians and companies based upon how much carbon they use annually). I started my day off with the free tour, taking in both the Senate and the House and getting a civics lesson on how the government is structured.

(WARNING: AUSTRALIAN POLITICS) Basically it seems to be an amalgamation of the US system and the British parliamentary system. However, instead of a House of Commons and a House of Lords the Aussies have a House of Representatives based upon population districts of each state and a Senate with ten senators from each state. The Prime Minister actually leads the Legislative Branch of the government and not the Executive Branch. The Executive Branch is the Lord Governor General, and by extension the Queen of England. All laws must be OK'ed by the representatives of the Queen, (however in modern times this is more ceremonial than practical.) Yet, there have been times when the Queen exercised her power, the most recent being when she almost fired the entire Australian government over the fact that the Prime Minister, Kevin Rudd, refused to step down from his position. Still, with the Executive Branch being more ceremonial that anything else, it seems like the tri-pod checks and balance system of government has somewhat of a short leg.

Canberra is also a city of Supervillians.
This is a monument called the Black Tower.
If that is not a villianous mountain-top
hideout than I don't know what is.

The Prime Minister (currently it is Julia Gillard who took over for the aforementioned Kevin Rudd after he was forced to step down), is not truly an elected position. The Australian people do not elect who will be the PM. Instead the PM is selected from within the political party that holds the majority of support in the House of Representatives. Currently the controlling party is the Labor Party (The Australian version of Democrats).. I don't think I ever realized this was how it worked... In American terms that would be like the head of the Republican/Democratic Party being appointed President. The PM has to be a representative elected to government, but he (or she) does not have to be directly elected by the people to the most influential position in the government. I partially was fed up with the American system because I believed party politics too directly influenced government policy, but here I have found a system where the leader of the nation is nothing more than the head politician of any given party.

(END OF POLITICAL TALK) Perhaps, even more surprising to some may be that the Australians are required to vote. If they do not show up to vote they are fined by the government. An Aussie can cast a Donkey Vote (basically refusing to make an meaningful decision while in the booth), but they must show up regardless whether they want to or not. All of this was explained on my tour, along with the fact that the House of Representatives would be meeting that afternoon at 1 PM. Since I was already bitten by the governmental bug, I decided to sign up for what is called "Question Time." Basically, it is the time at the beginning of any parliamentary meeting where the head ministers of the controlling party (The Labor Party), must answer any question put them by other representatives, mostly by the opposition party, Liberal Party (despite the name they are the Australian version of Republicans).

So I took my seat in the gallery and watched the Australian Prime Minster, Julia Gillard, and her government literally yell and argue with their opponents from across the aisle. I was not allowed to have a camera, but it was probably the most interesting display of governmental debate I have ever seen. It was certainly more interesting than any of the false pageantry I have seen in the American House of Representatives, where decisions seem to already be made in backroom deals. I have never seen two elected officials scream at each other and look as if they were going to jump across the center table and wrestle each other to the ground. It was refreshingly honest in a way, and very entertaining. I can imagine, that is probably how it was in the American Congress a hundred years ago, before television cameras. I would think these sorts of displays of raw anger and energy need to be revised... Think of how C-Span's ratings would soar. (C-Span's The Real World)

American Embassy

After a very entertaining hour of shouting and argument I was ready to set out and explore the rest of the city. I spent the rest of my day moving from one monument to another. I visited the Captain Cook Memorial Fountain (which wasn't working), the Canberra War Memorial (just in time to watch the closing ceremony), and even the Australian-American Monument, (basically a giant bald eagle on top of a very tall pillar.) My most interesting time was spent strolling along the main street of the city that contained the various embassies of different countries. Each embassy was amazing. They were usually designed to match the traditional archetecural style, along with native flora and gardens of the representated country, along with other sorts of embellishments. For example, the Canadian Conslate's gate was imprinted with maple leaves. I of course was interested in the American Embassy. (In case I needed to seek asylum while within the city, which seemed a possibility.) Our embassy was a beautiful two story colonial building. It was made to look like a traditional Revoutnary-era house, along with well manicured lawns, a golden bust of the MAN himself, George Washington, and a great American flag. I took several pictures of all the embassies, and by the time I reached Egypt, I realized that the Australian Federal Police seemed to be taking a more than average interest in me. That was when it struck me that taking pictures of foriegn embassies may not have been the most brilliant idea I ever had, so I slowly put my camera away and walked back toward the downtown area with all due haste.

I spent a very enjoyable day in Canberra not only exploring but learning about the Australian system of government. I probably got myself placed on somekind of watch-list because of my snooping around of government buildings (including the equivalent of the Australian's Pentagon)... but I mean if they didn't want me there they should have put up higher gates. The Australian Capital City is a beautiful place full of history and government workers. Many Australians I met, seemed down on the city and even encouraged me not to bother (Australians tend to be down on a lot of things in their own country), but I am glad for my visit. I saw a lot of things and met a lot of people... even if they were scary Germans.