Te Paki Stream is the entrance to New Zealand’s “90 mile beach” highway, in the far north. Because of unusual weather patterns the stream has silted up to where it doesn’t work for that any more. But the tour buses still come in so the daring can ride boogie boards down the sand dunes.
I took a pass on the thrill, but enjoyed watching others.
While research has its place, I want to have my own experience without worrying about what I am supposed to see and feel.
I almost always study up on places before I go, to have an idea of what my options are and special significance of what I might see. Sometimes I look things up later, to better understand what I saw, but when I am somewhere I am just there.
My best memories are about things I couldn’t have planned, because I didn’t know they existed.
I am not talking about tiny, expensive, breakable bottles of essences that will do miraculous things. I have a fairly sensitive nose and how things smell matters to me. There are a lot of less than pleasant smells in the world.
Here’s are some mundane things I bring along to make things more comfortable.
I love travel by train. Thank you to Cee for sending me down a very pleasant train trip down memory lane, searching through my archives looking for pictures that translate well (or at least okay) into black and white.
Just over two years ago I had a chance encounter that led to one of the best experiences I have ever had. I was walking around in Weifang, China, where my son lives. I was not only lost but clueless about how very large the city was.
Weifang’s claim to fame is kites. They have a kite museum and I, incorrectly assumed it was in the very large complex that is called people’s square (it is in People’s Park, a few miles away). I was wandering about, my second day in town, still a bit jet lagged. I didn’t have a map or instructions so I just wandered. My feet were getting tired and I was starting to wonder if I should head the kilometer or two to the mall where I knew I could get a cold drink, when a man carrying what looked like it might be a fishing rod in a case stopped next to me as I watched some fish in an artificial waterway.
He pointed to some things I smiled. I thought maybe he was going to fish. But somehow, without either of us speaking a word of the other’s language he indicated I should follow along and I did.
He was carrying a kite. I had not tried to fly a kite since a child and I never had much success the once or twice I tried. This guy could fly a kite, and so could the other men in the park. It was amazing to see how high the kites went, and impossible to really show with a photograph, although I tried.
Soaring up in the atmosphere.
With your feet on the ground you’re a butterfly in flight.
It was great fun to watch. I couldn’t believe it when he gave me the controls! He wanted to try out my camera so I handed it over (one of the great things about having a not horribly valuable, hard to use camera is the ability to do that). He had fun playing with my camera and I experienced being “a bird in flight, with my fist holding tight to the string of a kite”. It is a great sensation feeling and adjusting to the wind. It was one of those times when you are fully there in the moment. I knew I was having one of the times of my life and kept at it until my neck started to cramp up. He took a lot of pictures, many of them of me (I am a bit of an oddity in that city as I have mentioned in a couple of other posts).
I think I look pretty happy in the picture (that doesn’t often happen, I am one of the people who is always blinking, scratching my nose or something just as the camera fires).
I have written about this experience before. I just can’t believe that it happened to un-impulsive, stay-away-from-strangers, plan-it-all-out-ahead-of-time me. That experience changed me, it made me much more comfortable going with the flow and being open with strangers. One of the pictures he took of me with his kite is my gravatar. A butterfly is a good symbol for a life changing experience.
I was just thinking about suitcases, traveling and hauling a smallish but pretty heavy one around. Reminiscing about how I used to pack, which was very light and minimally. How appropriate that today’s (or maybe it is yesterday’s or tomorrow’s depending on your time zone) Daily Post prompt is “suitcase”.
I was pretty close to the weight limit on the checked bag and had a full backpack and a tote as well. What happened to me? I used to have one bag, I traveled for three weeks in France using a backpack my sister-in-law called a daypack, we had borrowed it from her because I couldn’t find what I was looking for. Eventually I did, it was a Kelty Moraine, they called it a day-and-a-half pack, I still think it is the best pack ever. I used it for a month long trip to Japan, among others and never felt it was too small, but it wasn’t sufficient for this trip, even though my clothing and toiletries are about the same as ever.
What happened is two-fold: First, I am now going places where I know people, my bag is stuffed with gifts for people. The second thing is technology: I have a laptop computer, a “smart” phone and my camera is much bigger than the little point and shoot I used to carry, and with the devices go chargers, wires, extra batteries. the escalator and
Is the change for the better? Yesterday was a travel day and I lugged my luggage. As I was going along, limping because of a blister I pretty much decided that I need to go back to the old ways. To get from the train to the exit from the station you have to go down three sets of stone steps (kalunk, kalunk, kalunk), through a tunnel with a corrugated stone surface (bzzzzzz), then, still corrugated up a ramp (still going bzzzzz). I was really slow. As the exit came into sight my friend, Emily, came running down to hug me (no idea how she got through security) with a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and a cup of cherry tomatoes. I changed my mind and decided that good friends are worth sore feet and achy muscles now and then. The jury is still out on the technology.
I am getting ready to take a long trip. So I clicked on some article or the other on Pinterest related to surviving a long flight. One thing led to another and several hours later I emerged awed by how Tricky and clever people can be when it comes to travel strategies.
I have taken lots of long flights and have methods for making it more tolerable. Some are things that other people do, some are not, or at least not done by or deemed worth publishing by the various pundits who do those cool infographics.
I have, after many long hours perusing when I had better things to do, picked up a couple of new things to try: one is putting small dabs of moisturizer and a bit of beauty balm into an old contact lens container to take on the plane. The other was to take a picture of my travel documents with my smart phone.
I won’t be rubbing my hair with a dryer sheet to prevent static-y fly away hair. They are pretty perfumed and really not meant to be rubbed on one’s body.
I try to not take up the limited restroom capacity more than necessary. On a trip to Europe one time I had to wait with my legs crossed for the restroom to open up for some time and a teeny-bopper came out having obviously washed her hair! The flights aren’t that long! One can go 24 hours or more between shampoos. Besides, if you look too chipper they won’t think you go with your passport picture!
I am considering putting a set of my own tips together…except that I am too busy trying to jam little gifts for various folks into the nooks and crannies of my suitcase. Maybe when I get home…
You have never stopped working. You have traveled tens of thousands of miles loaded to the max and all your wheels still roll (one does stick a bit and have to be adjusted now and then). In spite of being dragged around and dropped in some fairly dusty and dirty circumstances you look great, a few wet wipes and vacuuming and you look just like you did when you came out of the box back in 2008. To compare you with an expensive machine that traveled only a thousand feet before needing extensive, and expensive, repairs is wrong.
Packed and read for second trip to China.
Headed out on first trip to China.
Packing for third trip to Africa.
My excuse is that I like to travel light and you weigh eleven pounds empty. I have never taken a trip with you where you were not pushing up against the airlines’ weight limit of 50 lb. As much as I can lift, and probably more than I should lift, in the awkward ways one lifts suitcases in and out of buses and trains, bending and twisting at funny angles.
Te Whakarewarewatangaoteopetauaawahiao, New Zealand
Christchurch, New Zealand, before the earthquake.
Mitre Peak, Fjordlands National Park, New Zealand
Ferries and Opera House, Sydney, Australia
Four Mile Beach, Port Douglas, Australia
Great Barrier Reef
Flower market in Amsterdam
Students with pens carried by “Bertha”
Sunrise at Masai Mara, Kenya
Two boys reading books carried by “Bertha”
Sunrise in Mulundi, Kitui, Kenya
Dai Miao in Tai’an
Your heavy weight was because you were full of things for people. Books for an elementary school library in rural Kenya, gifts for friends and family. I rarely take you when I travel, only when I have lots to take, yet you have been to New Zealand, Australia, the Netherlands, Kenya (3 times) and China (2 times). You always got where you were going and held up in situations where a lesser, lighter, piece of luggage might have buckled under the load or lost a wheel. Heck, between trips you worked as storage for off season clothing.
Now you sit in my son’s room in China, acting as a wardrobe, probably soon to be reloaded for a return trip to the states. Full of souvenirs and gifts for family and friends…and the love they symbolize. But what should I call you now?
Maybe “bixi” (pronounced “bee shee”, give or take, as the “sh” isn’t quite equal to ours) after the stone tortoises that carry the heavy steles on their backs. The steles commemorate important events.
Side note: since the spell checker didn’t like Stele I double checked it and, in addition to being correct, learned that it is the source of the word stellar.