I’ve noticed some strange things about New Zealand, the first being that they don’t refrigerate their eggs.  Even weirder than that is the sheer number of Germans here.  When I was in Fiji, a German guy told me that NZ was the “German playground,” and he’s right.  There are also tons of English and Canadians, but very few Americans.  It’s kind of embarrassing that most of these non-Americans know more about American, and international, politics than I do.  I mean, I don’t really care that they know more than me but it’s kind of frustrating to come off as the typical ignorant American.  They think I’m an idiot for not worrying about every little problem, like the Republican Primary or the strength of the American dollar.  Maybe they should be worrying that the neutrino might be faster than the speed of light or that nobody really knows how a gecko’s feet stick to everything.  Whatever, instead of voicing any of these thoughts, I stuck to Solomon’s words: “even fools are thought wise if they keep silent, and discerning if they hold their tongues.” 

    After my Valentine’s day McDonalds’s romance, Dustin and I spent another two days in Wellington: first touring the town gardens, national museum, and Parliament, then taking a day off to get over a cold I picked up somewhere in Turangi.  At Parliament, I wondered how hard it would be to get become one of the 200+ MPs in a country with a population slightly larger than Houston’s.  Wellington is a very cool town with lots of hills, a beautiful bay, and just a good feel to it.  Our hostel was a cool place too – we met a Kiwi guy who was in training to become a skyscraper window washer and a Canadian girl who was just traveling and got to spend a lot of time with both of them. 

    To get to the south island of New Zealand, we had to take the 4 hour ferry ride to Picton.  I was excited to see that they had a big screen and seats set up for a movie, but more than disappointed to see Mr. Bean’s face in the first 30 seconds of the film.  We immediately took a bus from Picton to Nelson, where we immediately found out that we should have taken the bus to Marahau, the closest city to Abel Tasman National Park.  The intercity buses going to Marahau were done for the day, so we took a local bus and then had to hitch hike with three different cars to get there.  We had a small scare with all the hostels being booked, but finally found a place about 2 km out of town. 

    We took a water taxi to Bark Bay early the next morning and then hiked at least 20 km back to town, visiting a frigid river pool along the way.  The trail was beautiful and reminded me of the Greenbelt in Austin, except with tons more green and a ridiculously blue ocean.  The tide there made for a 3.5 meter change in sea level, revealing huge mud and sand flats with billions of shells and the trail cutting straight through them.  The trail went right through a small town of about 20 houses right on the coast – privately owned land that never got bought and incorporated into the park by the government.  What a cool place to live. 

Split Apple Rock

Truffula tree - the Lorax

    Unfortunately, the all day hike pretty much destroyed my right knee, which was already struggling.  It’s kind of worrying and frustrating to be having knee problems when 90% of what I wanted to do in NZ was hiking related, but now we’re in Nelson for a few days to relax and heal up.  These days off are becoming one of the things I look forward to the most, which is good at times, but can easily breed laziness and inactivity in one of the most active countries in the world. 

    On the last few hours of the long hike, I found myself thinking of my last few days in the US: dinner with Luke, smashing rocks at the Greenbelt with Robin, Phil’s third appreciation party, coffee and friends at Mozart’s, breakfast in Dallas with my parents and Kathleen, and dinner with Elaine in LA.  There was a lot of joy in those weeks.  I wished that I could have those things now, but quickly stifled the thought – those things are to be enjoyed and remembered, but will consume me if lingered on and yearned for.  I had to remind myself, to convince myself even, that there can be just as much joy and fruit from this time.  It kind of reminded me of my summer of solitude in Wyoming.  It could have been such an adventure, but I squandered it in loneliness and self-pity.  Before that was the miserable first semester at TAMS.  I’ve grown so much in these last few years and I’ve been eager for another opportunity to do it right, to struggle well, to fight for the peace and freedom that is mine in Christ – “it is for freedom that Christ has set you free; therefore, stand firm.”

    For now, I’m praying that my knee will feel better in a few days before we hit the Fox glacier, or at least before Queenstown.  Being hurt and sick isn’t so bad when you think of it in terms of “for whatever reason, God though it best to give me a cold, make my knee hurt, and slow me down.”  Just gotta trust that God knows what’s up.

    I also saw a guy with a Dr. Pepper in Wellington and almost lost it.  He looked at me like I was insane when I was all like, “Dr. Pepper!? Dude, that shit’s amazing, huh?”  He just smiled and turned away.  Whatever, he clearly didn't keep it real.  I bet he’s drinking Coca-Cola and reading his horoscope right now.  But at least I know there is DP somewhere in this country.