Crossing Oceans

The car was gone. No more Snow White. And it was now time for me to say my goodbyes to New Zealand.

The day I left I had to get up early again (4 a.m. to be exact). I had to pack, shower and make sure that I was ready when my ride arrived at 6. Call me a little over conscious, but I like to sit and enjoy my coffee and have a peaceful morning and not have to rush, rush, rush. I didn’t want another hectic morning like when I dropped Niki off at the airport.

I was really lucky that one of my Rippy mates, Scott, was headed to pick up one of his friends just when I needed to get dropped off at the airport. I didn’t have to pay for a shuttle and I got to have a nice ride to the airport with a friend (thanks again Scott! I really appreciated it!!!). And, on the plus side, he didn’t get lost…he knew where the heck he was going. All in all it was a great send off.

At the airport I arrived at check in about 4 hours before my flight was due to leave (ah yes, because my flight was delayed…) with two HUGE backpacks that were 10 kilos over the weight limit. The woman at check in told me that I had to get rid of my 10 kilos or pay 10 NZD per kilo to have them put on the flight.

Being that I am really convincing I made a deal with her. I said I would get rid of at least 3 kilos if she would let me check the rest for free. And guess what…she bought it! We had a deal and I had to sit at check in and go through all my stuff to make it work. Pulling out underwear, make-up bags, power cords and all sorts of other random junk I finally made it to a decent weight limit. I was all checked in. Now it was just time to wait.

I sat for what seemed like AGES at the airport. I was so early that my flight didn’t even have a designated gate. I managed to find some free internet and caught up on all of my important emails (ie: facebook and gchatting with my dad…the realllllllly import things!).

Finally (literally 4 hours later) it was time to board the flight. Aerolinas Argentinas flight 1182. Man was it packed. I was lucky enough to have an isle seat and unlucky enough to sit next to a bizarre Israeli man that had a great obsession with Lady Gaga (Yes, he listened to Lady Gaga on HIS CELL PHONE, for all to hear, pretty much the WHOLE flight! He even sang along to EVERY song…I was so far beyond over it that I didn’t even say a word. I didn’t know whether to laugh or be put off. So I chose indifference.).

3 hours or so later we touched down in Sydney. I am always full of nerves when I enter a new country. I never know what to expect from customs officers. Will they be nice? Will they ask me a million questions about why I am here? Are they going to strip search me? What is going to happen?

Well this is how it went:

1. Waiting to get my bags an officer came up to me and said, “Excuse me miss. Do you have any beef jerky or granola bars in your purse today?” As I quickly replied with a confused smirk, “Beef jerky? Huh? No. I am a vegetarian. I would never touch the stuff. Ew!” He just smiled and gave me a chuckle and then stamped my immigration card and walked away, wishing me a good meat free day!
2. Then I had to walk through the real immigration line. This was the freaky part. I was so nervous. It was my turn and I handed the woman my passport and my declarations card. She literally scanned my card, scanned my passport, looked at me and went “huh” and gave me a nod to walk through to the exit. That was all. Nothing else. No “hello”. No “you can go now”. Just “huh”. It was very strange, but I will never question it because I guess that huh is better than “please step into the back room, miss…we need to ask you some questions…”
3. Now I had to wait in line to exit. This is the part where they pull random people aside and scan bags and do full searches. I was just screaming to be searched. I had two 70 Liter backpacking backpacks attached to me: one on my front and one on my back. I looked like I was smuggling a small baby into the country. I had a totally weight of 30 kilos. People were looking at me as if I was nuts (which I was) to have all that stuff. The officer at the front of the line filtered me into isle one. What was isle one? I was convinced it was the line that they scanned bags. I was so close but so far away. I KNEW that they were going to go through all of my things. I just wanted to be free! I waited in line for about 10 minutes until I reached the front. The officer looked me up and down and asked, “Is all of that yours?” I just smiled and answered, “yeah, I know. Too much! I gotta get rid of most of it. I just didn’t have the time.” He just smiled and said, “shoot. Ok! You can exit!”

I WAS FREE! I made it through. No hassles. No stops. No NOTHING. I was so relieved. I walked out and was so excited to have made it through and to see Niki waiting there for me! Excited to give him one of my massive bags to carry (just kidding. Just excited to see his face!)

So I made it to OZ. Sydney was huge. Big skyscrapers. Tons of cars and buses and millions of people that are all in a hurry to be somewhere. No one gives a crap about who you are and where you came from. The city is only for those who have a tough skin. The weak will never survive.

I make it sound intense, but that is how it came off. I will admit it was daunting to me at first. Coming from Carlsbad, a small city of only 96 thousand, I am not really into the hustle and bustle that a big city entails. I am not used to people telling me to show up on this day next week at this time or I will have no chance at a job. I am used to living a slower paced kind of life.

But alas. Here I am. And here I shall stay for a while.

welcome to Sydney!

BATS! I swear that they eat kittens, or children. They are the size of small dogs and there are THOUSANDS of them!

Sydney Bridge and Opera House

Sydney Opera House

Tomorrow I will tell you about finding jobs and settling in! That was even more interesting to say the least!

Until next mates! See ya!

NZ continued...

So where was I with NZ? Ah yes…running from police…almost running out of gas and having pretty much what will go down in history as one of the WORST mornings ever!

The day got better as my Rippy mates took me out for a fun filled night on the town. I will sum it up with this. We ate, we drank, and we were happy to find out the next day that everyone was still alive! It was too much fun and again one of the reasons why I miss NZ so much.

After our night out I was down to only one day left to get rid of our hunk-o-junk “snow white” (that was the name that Niki happily bestowed upon our car). I had to either sell it or take it in to be dismantled. Luckily in New Zealand, they gladly pay car owners up to 300 NZD to have their cars wrecked. And since we paid only a mere 500 NZD for Snow White, the 300 NZD was sounding like a nice rebate.

I had displayed a colorful “FOR SALE” sign inside the car for about a week (for a mere 400NZD) hoping that someone would rescue Snow White from her horrible dismantled fate. I was even offering those interested a discount…but there were no takers and I was forced to make an appointment to have Snow White torn to shreds.

On the morning of dismantling I was up way too early again. I had to work at 10 a.m. and needed to get to the dismantlers by 8 a.m. to ensure I had enough time to hitchhike back to the city (don’t worry. The dismantlers were only about 10 minutes away, and hitchhiking in NZ is totally safe…I promise).

So as I sat and drank my delicious instant coffee I could feel a set of eyes watching my every move. Not interested and not in the mood to mingle (sheesh, it was 6 a.m.) I continued to ignore the glances. After about 10 minutes I had had enough! So I looked up at a young 20 something doe eyed girl staring at me and said hello. She returned my hello with another American hello and that’s when it all went to s*%#.

We chatted for a while, exchanging the usual “where are you from” and “what are you doing in New Zealand”. She was another American (if I remember correctly from Colorado) who had just arrived the night before in NZ and really had no clue about the country (I think the best thing that she said was “I had no clue that New Zealand was so much smaller than the US!”…DOH!!) About 20 minutes into our conversations (and about 500 questions about NZ later) it came up that I was selling my car (or at least I was trying, but unfortunately had to get it dismantled…bla bla bla…). I don’t know if it was my charm, my good looks, or amazingly useful used car salesman skills, but I had this girl dying to meet Snow White.

With my coffee in hand I led little miss America out to meet Snow White. She seemed interested and baby I sold that car like no one ever has. I was so good at selling that thing that she even bought it knowing EVERYTHING that was wrong with it…the brakes, the alignment, the unpaid diesel tax and so on and so on…I mean shoot! The damn thing only cost 300 NZD…and I even gave her the phone number of the wreckers that would give her 300 NZD to have it dismantled if for some reason she called her daddy that afternoon and he wasn’t too keen on having her drive a 1984 Toyota Corona. It was a deal made in heaven. I didn’t have to hitchhike, she got a car for dirt cheap and I was done with all my responsibilities for the day with time to spare. Man I was feeling good.

On my way to work I walked my new American friend to the post office to ensure that the car was changed over to her name and that all the responsibilities of Snow White were now on her and not on me. She paid me my 300 NZD and I was off to my last day at Rippy NZ.

My day at Rippy was pretty uneventful. Folding t-shirts, talking to customers and the usual retail nonsense. Oh wait…there was one fun thing…I almost totally forgot! About an hour before I was due to get off I caught a shoplifter. And this wasn’t any ordinary catch…this was mad fighting on the street, scream battle, in-your-face kind of a thievery catch! Long story short, a Maori girl came into the shop and while we were all busy filled her bag full of stuff and proceeded to walk out the door. As soon as she did the alarm sensor went off and she just kept walking (that’s when you know their guilty…no one ever keeps walking if they haven’t stolen). So I excused myself from my customer and went after her (stupid? Maybe.).

I ran out the door and started yelling, “Hey, you just beeped walking out the door. Hang on.” What did she do? Ah yes, she kept walking…trying to pretend like she didn’t hear me. Oh man, did this piss me off! So I ran after her and stopped her dead in her tracks by stepping right in front of her walking path.

And this is how it all went down:

Me: Hey! You beeped walking out the door. I know you stole something.

Her: What the f*&% are you talking about. I didn’t steal anything (in a very aggressive tone).

Me: Yeah you did. I can see the jandals (that’s what they call sandals in NZ) in your bag. Give them back.

Her: Bugger off, bitch. I didn’t steal.

Me: Do you hear how loud and obnoxious my American voice is. Do you know that if I yell help that there are going to be about 20 people here in 10 seconds. I have no issues screaming and making a scene…I like the attention. So you can give me the jandals or we can do it the hard way.

Her: F*$# you (as she hands me the jandals…more like throws them at me).

Me: And I want the other pair too. (We are still walking at this point…people are starting to stare)

Her: Are you crazy? I don’t have anything else.

Me: I’m getting LOUDER (as my voice goes up).

Her: F*$# you (as she pulls the other pair out).

Me: Now the last thing I want is the jumper that you stole too. Just give it to me or I will go in and get it.

Her: God you’re a f*&%-ing bitch. I don’t have a jumper. Stop saying that I have more.

Me: Ok fine then, I am going in after it.

Her: For Christ sake, BUGGER OFF (as she gave me the last item in her bag).

Me: Now that wasn’t too hard, was it? You’re lucky I didn’t make that hard for you. I never want to see your cheek pierced (yes, she had her cheek pierced) face in Rip Curl again. You messed with the wrong American.

Maybe I was a bit harsh. I will admit that I left some of the colorful language out of this rendition. I know that some of my readers don’t appreciate foul language. I had to leave some in for affect. But, needless to say, I was feeling pretty good about my catch and it was a good way to end my working in NZ.

So I said my last goodbyes to the crew and I was heading back to my hostel…ready to spend my last night in NZ peacefully. All I needed to do was pack my bags and get rid of any unnecessary junk that was not entirely essential from Australia.

As I walked up to the hostel the owner greeted me with what I thought was a joke…”Hey Rach, saw your car on the tow truck today…so I guess you couldn’t sell it after all…” WHAT? Tow truck? My heart immediately sank. Not only because I knew that a tow truck meant a horrible fate for Snow White, but I also knew that dismantlers gave car owners significantly less money if they came and picked the car up as opposed to having it dropped off (which I told little miss America when she bought the car).

So I ran into the house looking for this girl that bought my car, remembering that she had let me leave some stuff in the car until I got back from work. Man I was going to killer her if she left that stuff in there when they towed it!

Finally I found her, and probably in a less that polite tone, asked her what the heck was up? In a sad attempt to push my guilty button she told me how she had taken the car to a mechanic (which I had told her not to do) and that he found out about the diesel tax (that’s why I told her to avoid mechanics if she could) and that he wanted her to pay up the tax before he would work on the car. I guess she had a freak out and decided that she wasn’t willing to live on the edge like we were and opted out of being a car owner.

So being that she was a complete moron, she called a company and had them pick the car up and had it towed. She didn’t get 300 NZD, and she paid 80 NZD to have the car inspected. STUPID. That day ended up costing here about 180 NZD. A hard life lesson for this poor girl, but one that I think was necessary.

Some of the people at the hostel was trying to make me feel bad, telling me that I needed to pay her the difference of what she lost on the car. HELL NO, I said! I told her the deal. I didn’t force her to buy the car. I told her what she needed to do to get all of her money back. I GAVE FULL WARNINGS. I am not responsible for people’s stupidity.

Is that too harsh of me?

I don’t know. I was my last day in NZ and I just couldn’t be bothered to clean up the mistakes of my fellow American. I gave her all the info that she needed and that was all I could do.

Anyways…that was my last night in New Zealand. Tomorrow I will tell you about my flight to Sydney and arriving in this ENOURMOUS city (well, it’s pretty big to me).

Until next time…see ya mates!!

Picture Update

I know I am a liar. I promised to unfold the rest of my NZ adventure...and share a bit about Sydney. But hey, I have the sniffles and thinking hurts too much. So for now I hope these few pics of sydney will suffice. They are just a few that I stole from facebook. I will get some more up later and will definitely share the rest of my adventures!!

Sydney Gay Mardi Gras and just some out and about pics!

Love Ya mates and I will update soon!

Fugitive on the loose

I know, I know. BAD BLOGGER! BAD BLOGGER! Sorry about being MIA for the past month. Life has been a little crazy and the last thing that I have wanted to do is sit down and update this blog. But here I am. Up early, sitting street side in Sydney listen to the roaring traffic rush past me. But alas, I have gone too far.

Let me recap. For those of you who don’t know, I left New Zealand. Even as I type the words I am saddened to say that I am gone. I know that I bitched and complained while I was there, but now looking back I didn’t realize just how good I had it. New Zealand is such an amazing place. Clean streets, minimal traffic and AMAZING PEOPLE. I think that it was the people that will make me want to someday return. I am so thankful for all the relationships that I made and all the kiwi’s that I got to know and love. You will always have a special place in my heart!

But let me touch on the real reason why I have had no time to tell you guys about my adventures…about how I am a fugitive and used car salesman…

As it goes, moving from one country to another is always a bit stressful. And as I always do it, I am working up until the last day before I need to leaving giving less than enough time to get everything done that needs to be completed. But I figured hey, all I need to do is finish work, get Niki safely to the airport, sell the car/have it dismantled and sell off all the camping gear that we aren’t going to need for Australia. EASY!

So where should I begin…ok, how about getting Niki to the airport. That sounds like an easy task. Or maybe it was and I am just challenged enough to make it hard.

So Niki’s flight is due to take off at 9:30 a.m. I need to get him there 2 hours prior to his flight. It takes about 30 mins to get to the airport and we want to play it safe by leaving and hour early. So if you are any good at math that means that we left at 6:30 a.m., which means that I had to get up at 6 (because I had to have my coffee or perhaps my day would have been worse).

Tired and disoriented I agreed to let Niki drive up there because I have only driven our car one other time before (and that was only down the street to park it). Both of us unsure where the airport is and just assuming that there will be signs to get us there, we undoubtedly got lost. Finally pulling off the side of the road to stop a poor, unsuspecting runner to ask for directions we were back on course.

We arrived at the airport with no more issues. Well, not really any issues. The car was out of gas, but I figured that would be easy enough to remedy. I said goodbye (which included collecting $5 for gas because I was completely out of cash) and promised that I would make it safely 3 days later.

Now I was on my own. Being the directionally challenged person that I am, I started my journey home going the wrong way…for about 20 minutes. Finally figuring it out I turned around and started heading where I needed to. I was in desperate need to find a petrol station and fill my very empty car up with gas. About 30 minutes down the motorway I finally pulled off and found my self in the most hillbilly, trucker gas station that I have ever seen. This gas station beats any Midwestern po-dunk gas station. It was lined with trucker after trucker each missing more teeth than the next. Reluctant to get gas I decided that it was only chance to get home and I didn’t want to break down.

So I go to the cashier and say, “Can I get $5 of diesel on number 3?”.

He replied, “Sorry little lady, number three doesn’t have diesel…move around to number 7.” So I handed him my money (remember this was all the money that I had on me) and moved my car. I was quickly greeted by a man that looked like he spent his life working in dirt and drinking his sorrows away at night. He offered to pump my gas for me and I respectfully declined. The reason I sad no was because I knew that we had not paid our diesel tax (NZ makes all owners of diesel cars pay a tax per kilometer that the car is driven. Our car was sold to us about 15, 000 km over the tax that was paid for…we didn’t find out until it was too late…and were for the most part trying to avoid the police for the past 2 months.) and I just wanted to do it myself.

But of course this man, being either a gentleman or really macho, INSISTED that he do it. So I said ok, fill her up with diesel. Where as he replied “your car isn’t diesel…you don’t have a diesel tax sticker”. (We had removed our diesel tax sticker and all diesel insignia from our car so that no one would know.) I tried to convince him that I had no idea what diesel tax was and that I knew the car was diesel. He wasn’t convinced and made me fire the car up to have a listen…

At this point all the truckers were gathered round to see what the problem was. And when I started the car they could all hear that it actually was a diesel. This made my gas station attendant friend very suspicious and he told me to stay put for a minute.

Scared crapless I waited and tried to catch what he was saying to the guy inside. All I could hear was, “hey Bud, I think we have an unpaid diesel tax here. Think you need to call the police and get them to look into it!”

S*%#!!!!! This wasn’t happening to me! Now way. Not today. Not when we made it almost 2 months without getting caught! I had to get away. Doing the only logical thing that I could think of at the time, I put the pedal to the medal and booked it the heck away from that gas station at about 120 km/hr. I was now a fugitive!

Having no clue where I was I just kept driving. Finally I found what appeared to be the motorway. So relieved I hoped on without even thinking twice or reading any signs. Half way on the onramp I had a freak out…I think I got on the wrong freeway (and remember I have NO GAS and NO MONEY). Feeling stuck I rolled down my window and stared trying to get the attention to anyone that would listen to me! Finally a nice guy rolled down his window as well and reassured me that yes, I was heading to Auckland…and with this traffic it would probably take me about 45 minutes to an hour to get there (with no gas).

Needless to say, that 45 on the motor was one of the most horrific driving experiences I have ever had. Staring back and forth between bumper to bumper traffic and my ever decreasing gas level I almost passed out from the nervous anxiety that was running through my veins.

Eventually, after what seemed to be a lifetime, I found my exit and pulled of. Switching gears from drive to neutral to attempt to save gas I finally made it back to my hostel. I arrived on only fumes (someone above was definitely looking out for me). Upon arrival I walked up to my tent (yes I was living in a tent for about a month) to find it completely blown upside down and everything in it tossed about. All my stuff completely scattered and I had only 20 minutes to get showered, eat and make it to work.

It was by far one of the WORST mornings or my life…and when I say one…its because only 2 days later I had another…

But I have written too much. I will tell you the rest tomorrow!!!!

See ya mates!