The UniMelb Final Exam (a.k.a. stressful nonsense)

Exams at Melbourne are easily the most unecessarily nerve-racking experience I can think of.  Forget the fact that I was grossly underprepared for this controls exam, for a minute, and just picture this: over two thousand university students rushing into an enormous (and freezing cold) open exhibition hall--so large, in fact, this is where they played basketball when the olympics were in Melbourne in 1956.  Everyone has an assigned seat at a tiny desk lined up in rows.  There are "invigilators," (the intense quasi-police force of old retired people they hire to proctor the exams) everywhere directing us, complaining that my see-through blue pencil case was against regulations, etc.

The first fifteen minutes are reading time.  As soon as they let you into the room and you rush to your seat, you are allowed to read the exam but not write.  Miraculously, the correct exam ended up at each person's desk.  Then an incomprehensible voice on some PA somewhere says begin, and you hear the unmistakable sound of two thousand people picking up their pencils.  The next three hours will probably suck.

The exam was really hard.  Much harder than the previous year's exam the professor gave us to practice (figures, he's an ass).  It was essentially a three-hour mind pillage; my brain was rendered pudding.  When there are fifteen minutes left, the hawk-like invigilators stop circling us poor students and line up at the front of the room between each row.  When the clock hits the hour, they immediately start walking down the aisles and pull away all the papers.  Then you're free to go.  When I left, despite having convinced myself that I certainly failed, I was relieved just to get out of that room.

Taking an exam in a really difficult subject is bad enough when you're not completely intimidated by your surroundings.  Yet again, Australia has made me really appreciate the way things are done at Princeton: quiet, relaxing exam rooms, sans-proctor per the honor code.

Well, at least it's over.  One down, two to go.

Kiwi Land, Epilogue

Location: Christchurch International Airport

Date: 6 June 2012

Time: 1:00 PM

Kiwi Land, Epilogue

It’s snowing.  In June!!!  I mean, it’s really coming down.  This is the first real snow they’ve had in New Zealand this year.  When we woke up and left Rangitata at 7, there was already enough snow for angels and great snowballs.  A few inches, at least.

Mal'ach sheleg

Doing the snow dance!

As a result of this epic snow, however, I’m stuck in the Christchurch airport.  My flight (and basically every other) is canceled.  The next flight is not until tomorrow.  Oy.  The power went out for a little while, too.  I’m really getting that state-of-emergency vibe, a bit of a bummer way to end my uber vacation, but I’ve got a laptop and movies so I’ll manage.

Cancelled, cancelled, cancelled...

All my time in the airport did give me a chance to reflect back on the trip.  I’m so glad I came here.  If you remember from my very first post, New Zealand was one of the reasons I came to Australia (the most important reason, probably).  It’s been a growing and learning experience traveling on my own like this.  I’ve met great people (and secured free places to crash in a few European countries).  I’ve seen the most breathtaking natural beauty, the kind that just makes you smile that there are still places as untainted and well cared for as Kiwi Land.  I convinced myself to jump off a bridge, dive of a cliff (three times), and ride in a crazy boat through a canyon.  And to think I’ve only seen a small part of what New Zealand has to offer.

Update: 8:50 PM

I’ve been in the airport for almost twelve hours now.  I’m planning on sleeping in the airport tonight, which will be a first for me.  It’s a bit of a surreal experience.  I’ve lost track of time, which is probably good because otherwise this would feel like an excruciatingly long time.  I must say, though, the airport staff is making an effort to make this as least miserable as possible.  They handed fruit and blankets to us, which was really nice and cheered me up that they’re not just hanging us out to dry.  All us travelers (i.e. the ones with nowhere else to go) were moved to the international arrivals area, a small (and kinda chilly) terminal, but I’m alive.

I’ve attempted to get some work done, but transitioning back to school mode is proving to be difficult (yet again).  Study habits? What are those?

Location: Virgin Australia Flight VA63, somewhere over the Tasman Sea

Date: 7 June 2012 (I think, although I’ve lost track)

Time: 8:40 PM

I’m finally on my way home to Melbourne.  In the end, I was in the Christchurch airport for more than thirty hours.  I was starting to feel like Tom Hanks in “The Terminal.”  It was a fiasco, for sure—it really made me appreciate how well they deal with snow at Logan.  It turns out the flight they switched me to actually had a meal, which I really needed (a welcome change from pre-packaged airport sandwiches).

I’m looking forward to being back in my apartment and starting back up my routine.  I’ll really have to kick it in gear and study.  But who am I kidding, I’m not really going to study, am I?

Kiwi Land, Part XIII

Location: Rangitata Rafts Hostel

Date: 5 june 2012

Time: 8:00 PM

The 4WD tour—well, actually 8WD—was pretty cool.  First we went in an SUV (an old Land Cruiser, which was cool) for about ten minutes to where the road ended by the bottom of the glacier, between two huge sets of mountains.  Interestingly, it’s actually really close as the crow flies from here to the west coast, but driving would take over ten hours because the mountains are impassible by car.  Then we (four of us and the guide) got into an “argo,” an 8-wheel off-road vehicle, kind of like a mini tank with wheels instead of a track.  It steers just by varying the speed of the wheels rather than actually turning anything, which makes it a bit of a rough ride, but that just adds to the experience.  The argo was surprisingly nimble.

The argo.

The drive to the glacier was probably about a half hour each way along a twisty gravel track.  On one side was the glacier wall, basically a huge mound of boulders and rocks that have been deposited there by the ice, and the other side is mountains with hugely active slide zones.  The guide told us that if the rocks are darker, it means they slid recently (and that can be really dangerous, like an avalanche but deadlier), and if they’re lighter they are typically more stable.

Argo ride.

Once we got to the end of the track we hiked up the glacier wall to look at the ice.  It was incredible.  It’s hard to get a sense of how big it actually is because the mountains dwarf it, but it’s 2 km wide and sticks up 100-200 meters about the turquoise lake at its end.  There are icebergs floating in the lake, remnants of pieces that fall off the glacier periodically.  The ice is covered with a layer of gravel, which is essentially nature’s way of keeping the ice cold, so you see a mixture of blue ice and dark grey stone.

The glacier advances (i.e. goes downhill) about 5 meters per year, but it melts (i.e. retreats uphill) about 100 meters in that same time, so the net effect is that the glacier is retreating significantly, leaving a larger lake as it goes.  Our guide is the first (and I think only) person to ever water ski on that freezing cold lake, which is obviously a crazy feat.

The path to the glacier.

It's really hard to gauge the scale of that behemoth. 

Proof.  I'm here.

The weather wasn’t great this morning (surprise), but it was a worthwhile excursion nonetheless.

We rejoined the Stray Bus after our argo tour and headed on the last leg of our journey, to Rangitata via Lake Tekapo.  Lake Tekapo is, I believe, a manmade lake.  They say if the dam breaches, the surrounding towns have only a few seconds of warming before they are wiped out.  They estimate the whole thing would empty in twelve minutes.  Something tells me that’s just not the greatest idea…

Actually, I don't think that's Lake Tekapo, but it looks just like that.

Church of the Good Shepherd.  A lot of people have weddings here, and I can see why.

The good shepherd ('s shepherd)

Our hostel tonight, Rangitata Rafts, is pretty unique.  It’s a bit rustic (although not as rustic as Gunn’s Camp) and countryside-y.  I guess it’s meant to be a sort of white water rafting outpost, and there are all sorts of pictures of crazy rapids on the walls.

Sandra, Ida, and I cooked a family-style dinner together as our last meal, which was really nice, almost like a Shabbat dinner.  We’ve grown pretty close in such a short time.  Tomorrow morning it’s express back to Christchurch, and time to fly back to Melbourne.

We signed our names on the paddle at Rangitata Rafts

The last dinner with my New Zealand family.

Kiwi Land, Part XII

Location: Mt. Cook (backpackers)

Date: 4 June 2012

Time: 7:50 PM

I took it pretty easy last night.  I was totally adrenaline high from the swing and jetboat, but I eventually calmed down enough to get some sleep.  We left Queenstown around 9 this morning with a new driver, Scratch, for the last few days north back to Christchurch.  The bus is packed now and every seat is taken.

Today’s main stop is Mt. Cook, New Zealand’s tallest mountain at approximately 3,750 meters (12,300 feet).  The peak, and the ones surrounding it in these Southern Alps, is stunning.  It’s capped with deep snow, and a big glacier runs down the face.

We got to Mt. Cook around 2.  Sandra, Ida, Matt (also Swedish) and I took a 1.5 hour walk to Kia Point, a lookout at the base of the glacier where we were basically staring straight up the face of Mt. Cook.  It’s quite breathtaking.

Me and Ida.  Oh, and mountains.

That would be Mt. Cook, folks.

Me and Sandra.  Oh, and more mountains!

Kia Point.

After the hike we saw a short 3D movie about Mt. Cook in the local hotel.  (There isn’t even a supermarket here, but they have a movie theater!)  The film started off explaining the Maori creation story and the legend about how the peaks came to be.  Four Maori people (explorers basically, people of legend) were sailing their boat in stormy seas when it hit a rock and capsized.  They climbed onto the overturned hull.  According to the legend, they froze and turned to stone, eventually becoming the south island of New Zealand.  Their backs formed the Southern Alps, and the leader formed the tallest peak, which us white people call Mt. Cook.  The rest of the film was about the first people to scale the summit and some subsequent attempts, including a really cheesy bit with a plane flying around the mountain.

This hostel is really nice, more like a hotel than a backpackers’ accommodation.  The deal I booked for the room and the 4WD tour I’m taking tomorrow includes a free meal.  The food here is really good; I had salmon (which I miss so much because I haven’t been eating it on my poor student’s budget) with a cold soba noodle salad and a glass of pino noir.  Now it’s an early night tonight because I have to be ready for the 4WD tour at 8:15 tomorrow morning.  Can’t wait!

Kiwi Land, Part XI

Location: Nomads Backpackers, Queenstown

Date: 3 June 2012

Time: 5:00 PM

The first part of my adventure is the canyon swing.  The swing is the tallest cliff jump in the world.  It starts 109 meters above the Shotover river.  Basically, you’re harnessed onto a long rope that’s suspended above the canyon with wires.  You jump (or flip or dive or anything) off the platform into a 60-meter freefall.  At the end of this freefall you’re going about 150 kph (over 90 mph) and then you swing 200 meters in an arc over the water.

Oh, nothing like a 109 meter canyon!

For some reason they drew a snowman on my hand...

Gear on, myspace style

Two things about the swing: one, it’s absolutely terrifying; two, it’s absolutely exhilarating.  I jumped three times because they were having a special on repeat jumps (a charitable donation to help a kid with cerebral palsy).  The guys up there are known for screwing with you—telling you how things “usually end up okay,” pretending to throw or kick you off, etc.  It’s 100% safe, but they like to convince you that you might die.

1. My first jump was a backwards flip.  I left the platform backwards, threw my head back and feet up, and I did a couple flips in the 60 meters.  Then I hit the swing, flipped back upright, and shot out into the canyon, screaming with excitement.  Again, I must go again!  Thankfully they winch you back up so you don’t need to walk to the top of the canyon.
2.  The second jump position was called “gimp boy.”  You hang upside down on the wire with your feet crossed above you, for some reason holding a teddy bear between your legs (and a ukulele in my hands), and then they pull a pin and you plummet face first towards the ground, which is the craziest thrill.  They joke that you should bring spare underwear to this activity (and even sell it there), and I almost needed it.  The operator told me he would give a countdown… “five, four—“ then he pulled the pin so I was completely surprised, so I made a very non-manly noise as I shot towards certain death.  That was my favorite one.
3.  I did a “superman” forward leap for my third one.  It’s technically not as scary, but having to actively throw myself off the platform was very hard.  Its not a very natural thing to jump head first off a cliff, but I eventually mustered up the courage.  My jump was more of a spread-eagle/flying squirrel combo than a superman, but it was fun nonetheless.

Backwards flip

"gimp boy"

Superman

The canyon swing was my favorite adventure activity, even more fun than bungy.

"Even my shit was scared!" Yes, they sell underwear at the swing, just in case accidents happen.

After lunch I did a jetboat ride on the Shotever river.  The jetboats zoom through the narrow canyons at 80 kph, and the drivers are trained to make you think they are about to crazy into the rocks.  You literally get inches away from the canyon walls as they slide the boats around the corners.  What’s cool about the jet boats is that they can operate in only four inches of water because they’re powered by water jets instead of propellers.  The dual jets (powered by a 320 hp crate motor in back) pump over 800 liters of water per second!  This makes the boats not only fast, but highly maneuverable, and they can even do 360 degree spins, which we did about ten times.  The ride was about 30 minutes of sheer thrill.

Jetboat (that's me in the front on your left)

Yes, that's supposed to happen.

As a result of today’s activities, I must admit I am an adrenaline junky.  Gravity has become a toy for me.  All my previous reservations about these crazy activities are gone.  Next up: skydive, but I’m going to wait until this summer for that.

Kiwi Land, Part X

Location: Nomads Backpackers, Queenstown

Date: 2 June 2012

Time: 8:00 PM

In the morning we took a walk for a couple hours around Stewart Island.  It was pretty nice, but very grey as the weather was not cooperating.  Eventually, the skies opened up and it absolutely poured, so we headed for shelter in the form of a restaurant to dry off and warm up (lentil soup with sourdough bread for me).

Boats.

Our wet walk

The weather was a shame, really.  Considering how much I shelled out for the ferry, it would have been really nice to have some sun.  If I had more time I would have stayed longer to be guaranteed at least one full day of good weather.

As we were getting back on the return ferry, there was a band recording a music video at the wharf.  It was just a small band, and they had been traveling around New Zealand playing and filming themselves.  Two of the musicians stripped into their underwear and jumped off the dock into the freezing water multiple times, dancing to the song in the water as the guitarist strummed.  It was quite a spectacle, and they sounded pretty good, too.  That definitely tops my quick bungy dip in the river.

Crazy band music video (sorry, no sound)

When we got back to Bluff E.T. picked us up again and we rode back to Queenstown.  We’re staying at Nomad’s this time, which is a much nicer hostel than Base.  It smells less, has free breakfast and dinner, and we even got upgraded to a smaller (i.e. less bunks) room with an ensuite bathroom.  We’re going to go out for a bit tonight (it’s Saturday night in a party city), but I have to be up at 8 tomorrow for my adventure day so it won’t be anything too crazy.

Kiwi Land, Part IX

Location: Stewart Island Backpackers

Date: 1 June 2012

Time: 11:00 PM

It was really warm in the cabin when I went to sleep at Gunn’s Camp, but I woke up absolutely freezing.  The stove ran out of coal overnight, and the uninsulated rooms quickly lost heat.  So that made it a bit slow to get up, but I eventually meandered my way to the kitchen (way too cold to attempt a shower) and gulped down my oatmeal before I got on the bus.

More scenery as we headed south

'Skies of blue'

'Trees of green'

The next stop was Invercargill, which claims to be the most southern city in the world (over 50,000 or something).  You might recall the name from The Fastest Indian, the (Sir) Anthony Hopkins movie about Burt Munro (from Invercargill) and how he brought his modified Indian motorcycle to the salt flats to break the land speed record for his class.  (It’s a great movie, by the way.)  One of the replica bikes from the film is on display in Invercargill, and I had just enough time to snap a photo of it.

Burt Munro's world record motorcycle (film replica)

The Indian Scout, similar to the motorcycle Burt started with

The hardware store…. If you’re like me, something as simple as a properly stocked hardware store can get you really excited.  (Think Masse’s, Swartz’s, etc.)  Well, how about a hardware store that’s half vintage motorcycle museum?  Imagine that between the isles of tools, fasteners, and all the other little gizmos and materials you could imagine were dozens of vintage and classic motorcycles and other automotive memorabilia.  That’s where the Indian was on display, shrouded in its dusty red aerodynamic fish-like cover.  The replica is just like the real thing.  The asbestos insulation is even worn away on the exhaust pipes from where Burt’s legs rubbed.  I loved this museum.  There was also a Chevelle, a Belair, a corvette (one of only four right-hand drive models of that type), and some vintage trucks.  It’s a really good thing we don’t have a hardware store like this back home, otherwise trips would take forever.

The world's greatest hardware store

Dirty and well worn, the way it should be

Thunderbird...

After Invercargill, those of us who were staying on Stewart Island drove another half hour to Bluff, where the ferry leaves.  Bluff is a small and not so attractive industrial town, home to New Zealand’s largest Aluminum smelter (NZ’s fifth largest export).  The one-hour ferry ride was pretty choppy, but not nearly as bad as the ride back from the reef on ScubaPro II.

The view from the bluffs at Bluff

After dinner at the Stewart Island backpackers, a few of us ventured into the woods to try to spot Kiwi birds.  The island is supposed to be full of birds, which we heard but never saw.  The Kiwi spotting ended up being much like the glowworm adventure as we trekked through the muddy woods in pitch black.  An expert birdwatcher I am not.  It was drizzling, so our search didn’t last so long anyway.