Drowning in Miscellany

The "ladyboys" of Brunei

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 14:27:37 GMT

Turning the corner from the internet cafe to my hotel I first noticed a pair of long, long legs across the street from me. What struck me as funny was that they were exposed legs leading up to a very short, even by American standards, skirt. She looked over at me as I walked on the other side of the street and even though she was talking on the phone she used one hand to wave at me. Not expecting a pretty young girl to wave at me I had a bit of a delayed reaction before I finally returned the wave. But I didn't stop, I just kept walking even as she said something to me from across the way. Before I entered my hotel I turned around for one more glance at her and as I did she curled her hand into a loose fist and moved it towards and away from her mouth, in a seductive motion. The universal sign for a blowjob. Then it hit me. She was a prostitute.

I had never seen a prostitute before, as baffling as that might sound. Walking up the steps to my room I tossed that idea around in my head and couldn't believe that my first glimpse of a prostitute was in a conservative, muslim country. What were the chances? Who knew? And who knew she would be so open about it.

A short while afterwards the two english guys I had been hanging out with returned to the room and I immediately beckoned them over to the window that overlooked the girl's corner. Before they got there they said "Prostitutes? Yea we saw them walking although they looked a little masculine." AHHHHH.... We were all intrigued now and ended up sitting in front of the window watching them (a second had arrived). Our eyes turned critical towards them as we went back and forth: "male? female?".

Our attention didn't go unnoticed and soon they were motioning us with their hands, giving us the old BJ signal and flashing us (though they still wore a bra). We chuckled, laughed and one of the guys I was with flashed them back. But still... we weren't sure. They were obviously both very attractive but....

Finally we gave up and went out to the night watchmen for the hotel and asked him what the deal was with them. He confirmed that they were in fact men and then asked us if we wanted to choose. Shortly after we watched one of them get into a car and drive away towards a dark alley. The whole thing left me very confused.

This will be my memory of Brunei. My first sighting of a prostitute, a "lady boy" no less. It's almost as exciting as my first sighting of an Orangutan!
----

Back in Malaysia now. In 3 days I start the diving portion of my trip. I am psyched -- nine dives over 3 days and then a 3 day river trip.

1 for 3

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 12:36:53 GMT

When I planed my time for the town of Kuching I had 3 major goals in mind, which is why I ended up spending 4 days in this city.

I wanted to see a proboscis monkey which are normally viewable at Bako NP, Malaysia's oldest national park. It's about an hour from Kuching, an hour divided between walking, bussing and boating. The last few miles to the NP can only be accessed by boat. I ended up spending about 6 hours at the park, hiking around and seeing what there is to be seen. Obviously 6 hours isn't a long time so I wasn't surprised when I didn't see much wildlife. I saw some macaque monkeys and a fish, obviously lost, in a small puddle. But I didn't see any of the monkeys with the big noses. What I did see, in abundance, was my pale white skin turning into a bright crimson burn. I also sweat. A lot. I really think I should just start free balling it, cotton boxer shorts are a waste, becoming nothing more than a sweat filled rag within minutes of hiking.

I also wanted to see the rare rafflesia flower in bloom. This was, admitedly, a tough thing to plan. The flowers bloom all year, on no set schedule, so it's just a matter of getting lucky. In case you don't want to make the trek out to the NP that houses these beauties you can just check at the visiter center in town where they have a daily update from the park rangers. Sadly, each day I checked I found out that they were not in bloom. I still might get a chance to see them next week when I continue my exploration of borneo but this was to be my best shot.

I wanted to see some orangutans while here and on this score I was rewarded. I saw at least 8 of these gentle beasts this morning while visiting the Semenggoh Orangutan Refuge. The orangutans here are semi-wild and will all eventually be released into the heart of Borneo. But for now they wander the massive preserve foraging and going about their daily lives. Luckily for me they tend to show up at a central location in the morning for "feeding time". This is where I got to see them, really up close. They are beautiful animals and \to watch them swing through the trees is quite a treat. Their long arms are remarkably graceful and they are quite the aerialists. 2 of the ones I saw today were babies, still attached to their mothers as they were too little to swing on their own. The babies, of course, were very cute as were the adults although they look so sad all the time. They need to smile more, like I was when I watched them!

So 1 out of 3. It's OK. I have really liked the town of Kuching. It's very laid back, I have found some excellent restaurants and the hostel I am in is one of the best I have ever stayed in. I have gotten quite lucky with the rain. Even though it is the monsoon season we have only been getting about 30 minutes of rain each day. So long as I have my umbrella with me I am good to go!

In the morning I fly to Mulu caves, a very remote cave complex that is home to a massive pile of guano from 5 million bats that swarm out of their cave, en masse, every night. I can't wait to see that!!

moments

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 14:19:31 GMT

Sitting in a local Pizza hut, a book in one hand and a slice in another, I notice some movement out of the corner of my eye. I glance in the direction, looking through the large plate glass window that I am sitting next to, searching for something big but instead I find a tiny gecko staring at me through the glass. It's big black eyes look me up and down before it scurries away. As I finish my meal I notice it again and again, hanging out, coming back for glances.

Sitting in a local cafe, a book in one hand and a glass of the most delicious iced tea in the other, I gaze out across the vast veranda and watch the river as it flows lazily away. Behind me is the city, cars racing around, buildings announcing their presence (with loud, American named hotels) but in front of me, in front of me is the moment I most cherish while traveling. I sit, sipping away and realize how thankful I am for this moment, how thankful I am to be traveling.

These are the moments I seek out when traveling, these are the moments that I am beginning to remember from previous travels.

I am in Borneo now, in the town of Kuching which I am finding to be quite agreeable. It's a manageable city, much less frenetic than Kuala Lumpur (which, I grant you, I loved for the exact opposite reasons), where I have been enjoying myself immensely.

It's been less than a week for me in Malaysia and so far I am really liking it. Everyone is so friendly and helpful. There are no touts and no one (well, except for the massage hawkers in KL -- "Hey mister, anything you want" -- for a second I debate bringing up my kitten fantasy but then decide to continue walking) hassles me. Instead I am left alone, like everyone else. Brilliant.

I am fascinated by language here. Malay is the official language but most people speak English to the point where many advertisements and menus are only written in English. This makes it extremely easy for me but at the same time creates some awkward moments as not everyone speaks English and so I am faced with being presumptuous and assuming they speak English or insulting them by speaking like a 5 year old. ahhh, it will all come together.

afew more days in Kuching and then I am off to explore the Mulu caves before heading up to Brunei and playing Sultan for a day.

Something that has been whetting my tongue has been the discovery that I can purchase fresh "cat poo coffee" (aka civet coffee) while in Indonesia! I can't wait to spend 30 dollars on a cup of coffee!!!!

the durian fruit

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 13:56:24 GMT

Towards the beginning of November 2007 I found myself checking in to a hostel in the capital city of La Paz, Bolivia. I arrived really early and since it wasn't all that buzy after I had finished filling out my paperwork the girl behind the counter walked me to my room to make sure I knew where everything was. I was on the top floor and I noticed, as we came to a landing, that each floor had a sign saying "No durian fruit allowed". Finally, when we got to the 4th floor (my floor), I had to ask, having never heard of this DF before, "What is a Durian Fruit?" She didn't really know but she did know that they smelled really bad and were pretty disgusting. That was enough for me but it lodged the name in my brain.

A few months ago when I began planning this trip I discovered that durian fruits are pretty popular in Malaysia and in fact they are grown here so they are fresh. Once I realized this I knew I would have to try one.

However, there was a catch. I might have mentioned here sometime over the years that I don't eat fruit. I generally don't like the taste and/or the texture. Sometimes they just seem too messy or require too much work to prepare. Most fruits revolt me. I wondered if I couldn't handle an orange how would I be able to handle the much maligned DF?

Today I discovered the joy (ok, that might be too strong a word) of DFs while wandering the streets of Kuala Lumpur. It's an intimidating fruit. To look at it, and see all of it's spikes, is enough to make you pause a moment and make sure you have paid an appropriate level of respect towards the fruit. It's also a chance for you to be really thankful that the vendor had cut the thing opened for you.

The smell is supposed to be the worst part of the DF. It's been called pungent, disgusting, rotting flesh and many more colorful adjectives over the years. Personally I didn't mind the smell. This was in part because i was eating it outside where the smell blended in with the garbage strewn around the block, the stagnant water of juice detritus and car excrement mingling at my feet and my own body odor, literally emanting off my sweaty body. Had I had the thing in a closed-in room I might have thought differently.

I'll admit that when it came time to eat the thing I hesitated. It doesn't look very appetizing, being a cross between a giant lima bean and kidney that had been soaking in fermaldyhyde, that makes you want to do anything but pick it up in put it in your mouth. But I did finally and found it to be somewhat tasty. Once I broke through the light skin I found it to be the consistency of a custard. The taste matched and was fairly sweet. After the first bite I was able to basically suck and lick the fruit off of the large seed.

With a help from a friend I was able to finish it off and felt quite proud of myself. It was the first fruit I had eaten in many, many years. I might have another one before I return to the states. I love that I can't stomach an orange but had no problem putting down one of these fruits. If you have the chance to sample one I would suggest it. I don't know what they cost in the states but I paid around 3 dollars for mine. But the memories, and photos, are worth much much more.

KL is great, Malaysia is wonderful and I am looking forward to heading over to Borneo on Sunday.

a traveler's milestone

Wed, 28 Oct 2009 12:03:27 GMT

This morning I put on my nicest clothes (aka, the cleanest in my pack) and walked down to the US COnsulate office in Perth. A few months ago I realized that my current trip would require more passport stamps then I have space. Today I had pages added to my passport. 22 pages to be exact. It was pretty exciting.

Sydney

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 03:53:45 GMT

At the corner we wait. Dozens of people mass around, pushing their way to theedge, their eyes glancing back and forth between the oncoming traffic and the light aht says "don't walk". You can see them calculating, you can see it in their eyes, in the way their bodies are tense, about to pounce, as their mind tries to decide if an approaching gap in traffic is large enough to support their dodging bodies or if they are better off waiting for the light to change and the cars to maintain their waiting, idling stance.

Finally there is release. The throngs, mixed with businessmen, tourists and students, surges forward, a rapidity in their movement that you can't quite tell if it's to make up for lost time or if it is to make it across before the cars start their push again. I am in the middle of all of this, tucked safely within a pack of hustling Sydney people as we all move on to the next intersection and begin the process again. The waiting and the motion, beauty and life.

There is nothing unique with getting tangled up in pedestrian traffic, its patterns are visible in every big city anywhere in the world. Ahhh, but there it is, isn't it? Sydney was my first big city in over a year and I found myself rediscovering the joys of being in a proper city. Ther is joy in the surge of traffic, joy in the bustle of pedestrians, joy in parks that straddle sykscrapers and harbors bustling in activity, the life blood of the city pulsing to the beat of the street buskers.

W/in minutes of being in Sydney I found myself wondering why anyone would willingly trade it away for a witner in ANtarctica (much less a full year) and began cursing myself for only allowing myself 2 nights in the city. Each step brought new discoveries and I finally had my chance to, if not rediscover, then to be reminded about the world. I feared blinking, turning or stopping lest I miss something old being made new. Christhchurch, for all of it's quaintness, didn't prepare me for Sydney, for the feelings of home.

I became quite smitten with Sydney. I became even more smitten by all the dark haired beauties that inhabit Sydney. I thought they were unique to CHC but no, they are all over. I think they just aren't unique to McMurdo, which is where my confusion came from. I was also rather surprised to see so many pregant women, their bulbous bellies leading the way, wandering the street. I haven't seen a pregnant woman in over a year! I had to stop myself from staring. Didn't want to be that guy.

I am in Perth now, having just arrived after a 70 hour train ride. The trip was fun. More to come on that....I fly to Malaysia on Thursday morning.

photos from the Sydney Aquarium and Wildlife Center

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 09:48:38 GMT

I spent some time at the aquarium this morning. My main reason for going was to see the dugongs -- there are only 5 in captivity around the world! They were pretty cool and the aquarium as a whole was well worth the visit. Very well done!

photos from Sydney

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 09:45:03 GMT

A quick photo dump post. I love Sydney. I love being in a big city again. Tomorrow I start my train journey to Perth. Here are a few photos of the city:
(the funky sink is from the Sydney Opera House)

7 continents, visited.

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 10:03:48 GMT

A few hours ago I landed in Australia, the last of the 7 continents for me to visit. I still love that Australia is the last and not Antarctica.

I love Sydney. I love being in a big city again. There are crowds, and traffic and people running all over the place. Businessmen mingle with tourists, there are street festivals, events, sites, opportunities and lovely lovely dark haired beauties all over the place.

Ahh to be back in the world.

swimming!

Sat, 17 Oct 2009 23:20:49 GMT

After doing a winter at McMurdo your first few nights back in Christchurch, the real world, have to be all about fantasy fulfillment. This is the chance to finally make good on all of those promises to yourself that were hatched during the darkest hours of winter. If you wait too long reality will take over and you’ll start to reevaluate your goals, question the logic of winter mind when compared to RW mind, to the point where you won’t go through with them. It’s been quite funny for me to see what people have done when they first set foot back in the RW.

There have been elaborate tattoos, the designs tweaked and honed during long, slow work days that over the winter months have probably grown too big and would have been sized down a week later. There have been expensive nights out to the strip clubs; I have heard rumors of someone dropping 800 dollars in one night for the pleasures of scantily clad women bouncing on their knee. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if some of that money found its way between the thighs of a local street walker. And, of course, there have been drunken binges, nights in bars that ended as the locals were starting to get up to go to work, hundreds of dollars spent on overpriced (but fresh) alcohol. All in all nothing too out of the ordinary or unexpected from an isolated, predominately, male society.

I had two major fantasies (three if you include my, as of yet unfulfilled, desire for a basket of kittens to be dropped on me) for my arrival back in the RW that I have since managed to fulfill. These were very basic, very mundane fantasies when compared with some of the other outbursts. The first, to eat a juicy rare steak, I knocked off on my first full night in town. It came from a restaurant called Mu, a favorite amongst ice people and was positively delicious. The pictures have been posted, you may have seen them. Moo. My second fantasy was to go swimming (yes, yes, I know, I have pretty boring fantasies) which I managed to knock off yesterday.

I visited the QE2 swimming complex which is about a 20 minute bus ride outside of CHC. Throughout the winter season I would find myself visiting their website, looking at all they had to offer and wondering how it would feel on my body, wondering what it would be like to once again cut through water, my arms propelling me faster and faster through the water. As far as community pools go the QE2 is pretty epic, by far the best pool I have ever visited. It is so much more than your basic pool. There are slides, diving tanks, a wave pool, a lazy river and a spa. Initially I was impressed by the swimming lanes as they are setup to be 50m in length. I had only ever swum in 25m lanes so this was a bit of change. It probably wasn’t the best idea to start my second lap off with the butterfly stroke as I barely made it half way before having to switch to an easier stroke.

There are 5 slides, all indoors, that cost 11 dollars extra (entry to the pool is only 5 dollars) for unlimited usage. I wasn’t terribly impressed by them; they were pretty small and designed for younger kids. What did come as a bit of shock to me was to be surrounded by so many little, screaming children. There were hundreds of them, all in an echoing stairwell, chattering and yelling, paying no mind to any one but themselves or their gaggle of friends. One of them even managed to, accidentally and lightly, punch me in the balls. Their little voices caused me to cringe each time, a thousand nails being drawn across a brittle blackboard. The NZ accent is greatly improved by puberty (I tend to compare the NZ accent with the British accent which I will forever associate with David Attenborough, whom I hold as the standard bearer for all English things vocalized).

The highlight for me was getting to use the diving tanks. They had your standard low and high diving board which I immediately used. I hadn’t been on a high diving board in years since pools in the states started removing them do to insurance concerns. They also had a series of three diving platforms which were opened to the public. I have only ever been to one other pool that had these and they were always closed. I jumped off the 5M and 7M platforms a few times. Each jump was positively terrifying as my legs scrambled to find footing in the air and my mind screamed insults at myself. The moment of leaping does require a bit of faith as the whole thing is quite risky and you need to remind yourself that the water, and not concrete, will receive you at the bottom. Splashing down was almost as thrilling as looking back up and seeing how far I had willingly fallen.

I really enjoyed comparing pool etiquette here to pool etiquette in the States. There seemed to be more disorder at the QE2 than you would find back in the states. The diving boards fed a constant stream of divers into the water with barely a pause for the previous diver to get out of the way. In all the pools I have been to before the rule, enforced by a scowling lifeguard, was to wait for the previous person to get to the ladder. The boarding zone for the water slides wasn’t monitored by a lifeguard. Rather each slide had an illuminated “go, stop” sign to direct traffic. You can imagine out how effective that was, people were going whenever they felt like it, people were going in pairs, people were going backwards and there was pushing and shoving. All in all there was a notable absence of rules. It was perfect. I loved it.

The only smear on the day was someone stealing my towel. I had left it on a chair near the lane pool and when I went to retrieve it at the end of the day it was gone. What baffles me is that it wasn’t even a good towel. It was probably about 5 years old, holey and very, very thin. This was not a towel you would want to snuggle up in longer than you had to. Drying yourself with it would cause sleight discomfort as the rough edges could rub you raw. But I loved it and since it was so thin it was perfect for traveling – it rolled up tight and dried fast. I ended up having to air-dry and use the sleeves of my shirt. Now I need to replace it. In one day someone stole my milk and my towel. Oh NZ, is this the best you can do?

Afterwards, sitting at the bus stop, waiting an hour for my bus an older woman sat down next to me. She was probably in her 40s but she wore the mask of someone much older, you could trace her difficulties through the deeply entrenched wrinkles that ran across her leathery face. Her left sandal, quite old, was falling apart and I wondered if she thought when she was a child if she would grow up to be someone who wears third hand sandals. We spoke intermittently and she, not surprisingly, immediately picked up my accent: “Ahh, you’re American.” I spoke of where I was from. She asked if NY was flat or if there were mountains. She inquired about the great Long Island beaches, which I will forever love even though they are dirty and lacking by NZ standards and then she asked me what’s “popular” in the US. To this I had to laugh and began the whole Antarctica story to explain why I haven’t been home in over a year. It gets old. Her bus came soon and she was off, leaving me on the bench still damp from the pool and quite happy with my day.

some photos from CHC

Fri, 16 Oct 2009 23:08:48 GMT

These pictures are all from the Lyttleton area of CHC. This is where the annual re-supply vessel for McMurdo docks. It's quite pretty, as you can see...

Fri, 16 Oct 2009 23:06:27 GMT

When you get off the ice Raytheon pays for your first nights accommodation. You are given a list of about half a dozen choices, ranging from low to midrange. There really are no deluxe accommodations and your decision ultimately comes down to what few amenities you want included for the one night (which rarely is a full night as we don’t get into town until 10pmish). While most of the people who left with me opted for the higher quality places I decided to stay at the YMCA. Not because I thought it would be fun or I wanted to have a good time but because it would be the cheapest option for my second night. Why some people went high end the first night only to move the second night is beyond me.

The YMCA offers a wide variety of rooms including fairly cheap dorms but they also have an annex, an old building next to the modern Y where they rent single rooms out to males. Due to the age and sparse amenities these rooms are offered at a fantastically low price. When booking a room the minimum rate you can pay is based on 2 weeks occupancy (189 NZD) but even paying the full price is cheaper for me to cover the 8 nights that I am going to be in Christchurch.

On my second night I moved across the street to the Williams House. When I inquired about booking a room here the woman at the YMCA desk tried to discourage me, saying that it’s “very old, very old”. I was not dissuaded and paid for my 2 weeks. Once settled I didn’t really see what the issue was. The room I am in is bigger than the single room I occupied at the YMCA. True, it doesn’t look as pretty, isn’t as warm and the bed is a bit less plump but it’s nicer than most of the places I stayed at in South America and for a single room the price is pretty amazing.

There is a communal kitchen with a very basic cache of supplies. This has been helping me save money on breakfast as I can buy ingredients from a store and then prepare them myself. Although this morning I discovered that someone stole the last of my milk that I had left in the shared fridge. I don’t mind the theft so much as it was the last of my milk and it made me have to trudge down to the store before I could eat. OK, the theft bothers me a bit as well. What kind of prick would steal someone’s milk? Don’t they realize it violates the whole spirit of a shared kitchen??

The downside of staying here is that it is pretty bleak and pretty isolating. There are no common areas, no meeting place for other travelers to swap tales or spin yarns. It’s basically a cross between a flophouse for transients and a cheap motel without the hookers. Accordingly I have been trying to spend as much time out of the room as possible, even if it is just hanging around on a bench in the main square of town (a plan which has been tough given all the rain). I just like to be around other people, even if I am not interacting with anyone. I thrive on observation which is something that I can’t do in my room.

The room is not helping me adjust to suddenly having so much free time in my day. It’s very weird for my days to no longer be structured, to no longer be occupied by work. I have to find new ways to fill my time (a challenge when I am still suffering from sticker shock at the cost of everything here). Having nothing to do it’s easy to say “ahh, let’s go back to the room” but of course when I get there I end up reading or staring at the wall (wondering about the various carvings, such as the guy who carved in a swastika in 1994) which isn’t very satisfying. I do have my laptop with me which is nice. I have never really traveled with it before and will be sending it home next week before I leave CHC (I still have access to the APO so mailing things from here is like mailing something in the states) but for now it's nice for writing well thought out entries and managing my photos.

Before I arrived back in town I was a bit disappointed that all of my medical/dental/psych appointments were spread out over a period of 5 days as that meant I really couldn't leave CHC. However I am realizing now that one nice thing about that is that it provides just enough structure to give my days a bit of purpose, a bit of direction. Most of my day is free but by having to be somewhere at a given time it forces me to do stuff. I really don't consider my vacation to begin until I get out of CHC next Thursday so my time in CHC isn't a part of that. I do think it's sad that I will have spent 10 days in NZ but have barely left CHC. Ahh well... so it goes.

Today, I am going to a swimming pool! With a wave pool! And 50m lanes! And 5 indoor water slides!! Joy! I will be submerged! I will float! It will be brilliant.

grass!

Fri, 16 Oct 2009 22:48:12 GMT

One of the first thing I did after clearing customs and leaving the Christchurch Airport. I was interrupted by my shuttle driver asking if I wanted to leave on an earlier shuttle. I wonder what he thought when he looked over at me...

an assortment of photos from leaving the ice...

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 23:55:16 GMT

Before you leave the ice you need to put your dirty linens outside of your door...

One last view of my room...

I left a note for my roommates made out of cheerios. I found the cheerios when I was cleaning, they are from Sept of 08.

watching the loading of our seats for the flight.

One last view of Mt Erebus. McM never looked so small!

boarding the plane...

One last view.

My fantasy for many, many months...

mmm... rare steak...

It IS fun to stay at the YMCA!!

Having left the ice.....

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 23:38:13 GMT

From the back of the plane I watched a member of the flight crew approach a garbage bag that had been hung near the door. He casually tossed a piece of trash into the bag and then moved on. There was no hesitaton. No one second pause as he compared the piece of trash in his hands to the placard on the trash bag indicating what belonged in it. There was no placard. This trash bag was meant to contain everything.

It’s funny what things make me pause, upon leaving the ice, and what things don’t bother me at all. The incident with the trash was the first instance when I realized that I had truly left the ice (down there we have about 13 garbage categories, everything gets sorted). Watching the man throw away his trash so flippantly I cringed – you’re doing it wrong – but then immediately felt liberated when I realized that throwing things away would no longer be a chore, that I would no longer carry pieces of trash around in my back pocket, uncertain of what category they belonged in.

Yep, it's fun to not sort your trash!!

What amazed me was how quickly McMurdo slipped from my present and became nestled so tightly in my past it’s as if it always was. Within seconds of boarding the airfield shuttle I could feel it slipping, this is not some dramatic license – before I had even left town memories were being shifted around, recategorized and reevaluated. I drove out of town with a big grin on my face and a bounce in my limbs, the uncertainity of the past few hours long forgotten and although I told myself to take “one last glance” I didn’t. Buildings, people, places just blurred by me as my thoughts turned towards the future, towards my travels.

I have found that the long goodbyes are the hardest as they leave too much time to think about it. I spent weeks saying goodbye to Antarctica and each time it felt so painful, so deeply vested in loss, because I knew what I was giving up but I didn’t know what I was gaining. When it finally came to leave, when inevitability met up with the present, there was no pain, no loss, just a desire to finally get on with it, to move forward, to leave the rock.

To say it all seems like a dream is a cliché, I know. But, cliches exist for a reason. Antarctica has been a dream and though I know it’s still down there, my friends are still doing their thing it just doesn’t seem real anymore. That it should only be a 5 hr plane ride away seems wrong as surely the journey must be longer, harsher, farther. How else to explain away the vast distances in my mind? The same things that I was mourning a week ago, the missed parties and events, all seem so silly now compared to my new options.

I am discovering that it’s the ice habits that are the hardest to let go of. The sorting of the trash was just the first of many ingrained behaviors that I now am suddenly breaking. Perhaps an even greater, overreaching, habit is the idea that I am now no longer subject to the rules and regulations of McMurdo. I am no longer institutionalized. I can be unsafe if I want to. I can run whenever and wherever I want to (but I won’t). If I want to drink a beer with lunch and lounge about for the entire afternoon I can do that as well. Mind you these aren’t hard habits to break, I don’t need counseling to get past them, but I do love the brief hesitation that occurs in my mind when I realize that the only thing I am “getting away with” is normal life.

I can’t say that coming back to the “real world” has been some earth shattering experience. I wish I could. Part of me wishes it was possible to fully rediscover the world but it’s not, not when you have spent 30 years living in it. The habits and patterns of life have been etched too deep to forget. In some sick way I am a bit disappointed that my 400 days on the ice haven’t left me catatonic, a bumbling fool unable to even tie his own shoes. It seems wrong that I should so easily slip back into the world, as if it had been holding my spot all along.

Instead of epic realizations I am taking pleasure in minor re-discoveries. I have been lingering with smells, letting flowers waft a bit more or food fumes mingle with each other, creating delicacies in the air that will never slip down my throat. I walked by a wine store last night, it’s doors thrown open to the street, just as the attendant was restocking some shelves and the clinking of the bottles sounded so beautiful, so human, so worldly. Within that sound resounded a blessed normalcy. Yesterday morning I walked into a café and when I was told, by the staff, that it wasn’t opened yet I receivd the news with such wide-eyed wonderment you would have thought that they had just told me the secret of life (perhaps, they did…). Even though my tummy was grumbling the news didn’t bother me as I was just so caught up in the experience, about as life affirming as one can ask for.

There have been some readjusments: the whole having to pay for things kinda sucks (everything seems so expensive. No, not seems. When a basic breakfast costs 12 dollars that IS expensive) and I am a bit afraid of getting hit by a car as kiwis drive all screwy. I had a brief moment of panic the other day when a car drove past me and the person sitting in, what to my mind was, the drivers seat appeared to be fully engrossed in a book rather than watching the road. It took a few cars to pass by like this, the occupants sleeping, waving their arms or chatting uproariously, before I recalled that the driver side is the passenger side. The weather, while different, has been dreary and cold. Even though I have undergone a positive 70 degree temperature shift I still find myself shivering at night, clutching my light jacket closer to my body and wishing that I still had my big red. I have been having some trouble understanding kiwis when they speak. Even though it is english coming out of their mouth it all seems so quick that I often have to ask them to repeat it.

I don’t want to get ahead of myself. This is still pretty new to me but I think I can say that my reentry to the world has been pretty smooth. There have been no panic attacks, no blow ups, no moments where I found myself in a fetal position rocking myself into the farthest corner. The big test will come once I fly to Sydney next week and am totally alone. There are still ice people wandering around CHC and most locals are familiar enough with the program that I still feel a bit of a connection with the ice which makes being here a bit easier. We shall see, we shall see….

time for a new adventure

Mon, 12 Oct 2009 17:56:28 GMT

The internet makes it easy to prepare to come to Antarctica. Between the official sites and countless blogs you can be prepared for the elements, you can be prepared for the annual parties or the wacky, slightly off-kilter (but entirely awesome) people but no matter how much research one does about coming to and living in McMurdo you can't really be prepared for what it means to leave this place.

After a one day weather delay today I will soon be boarding a plane for the 5 hour flight back to Christchurch, back to New Zealand, back to the "real world" (although a year later my insistence on using quotes has diminished greatly).

I've already written, these past few weeks, about the range of emotions I have been feeling when I think about my departure. I've had highs and lows, magnified by how much I have enjoyed hanging out with the new people and how sad it makes me to leave all the fun. I have spent exactly 400 days on the ice and in that time this place has become my home. That's something you can't prepare for.

I am not leaving this post, on the historical record of the internet, as a guideline for future FNGs on how to leave McMurdo because there is no set "way" and while everyone that leaves takes the same walk to the plane each of us steps differently, lingering on different memories.

This is an entirely personal experience that like the grandest and most meaningful of goodbyes is best figured out for oneself. The truth is even now I don't know what it means to leave Antarctica. I don't know if it has changed me a bit, a lot. I don't know what I will feel when I step off the plane to the waiting embrace of Christchurch. I am a bit afraid that the waiting world will leave me a bit underwhelmed. We shall see, we shall see.

This is my last post from Antarctica, hopefully for only 3 months but life is weird and there are never any guarantees down here. I leave this place, even though I have a contract in hand for next winter*, with the expectation that I will never return. I view everything, experience everything, as if it is my last so it becomes more engrained in my head, becomes more a part of me. I would hate to leave here taking any of this for granted.

I hope you have enjoyed sharing some of my experiences with me this past year. This has been a good time for me but now it's time for some new adventures -- 2 months of travel, diving and swimming. You're welcome to come along again!

*I am tentatively scheduled to return to McMurdo on Jan 19th, 2010.

more thoughts on leaving, on leaving, on leaving (maybe?)

Sat, 10 Oct 2009 20:07:35 GMT

Friday was my last day of work (remember, I am day ahead of the states) and I was positively euphoric. It felt like the last day of HS, like I was just waiting for the bell to ring and release me to the warmth of summer vacation. I had a big ol grin on my face when I walked out of the shop for the last time and geniunely felt excited to be leaving, excited to be traveling, excited to be saying goodbye to McM. It's not that I dislike my job, it's just.... well, it's just vacation time.

But then I got back to my dorm and like most things have been here these past few weeks I started to get sad again. With the exception of a particular awkwardness, I have been really happy these past few weeks. I have been hanging out with a bunch of new people and some old people. I am happy with my roommates and will be sad to leave this situation. This is what bums me out the most about leaving now. It isn't McM, the job or even Antarctica. It's leaving the people and the friends that I have made.

More than that it's leaving this comforting, social enviornment. I might not be the most social person but I like being around people. I like being alone in groups. Last night I spent a few hours hanging out in the hallway with a bunch of folks and while I barely said more than a few words (most of the time my head was far, far away) I really enjoyed being there. For someone who prides himself as being a bit of a loner, I am pretty frightened of being lonely.

I did feel a bit bad for the new folks, the people who just arrived, who wandered by and attempted to talk to me. I might have been a bit rude or a bit short. It's just that with less than 48 hours to go the idea of meeting someone new, no matter how awesome they might be, isn't that appealing. I want these last moments to be spent with known friends.

---

The weather is turning bad here. There is a good chance I won't fly out of here on Monday when I have been scheduled to. Delays happen, I can't do anything about that but still I hope the delay is no more than 24 hrs. When it's time it's time and putting it off just doesn't sit well.

It's time.

RIP

Sun, 04 Oct 2009 07:50:31 GMT

RIP -- Beard
02/08/09 ~ 10/04/09

I have grown really, really hairy...

mainbody begins

Sat, 03 Oct 2009 18:45:10 GMT

This past Tuesday was supposed to be the official start of the Mainbody season down here at McM (for those of you not playing along at home, Mainbody, aka "the summer", is the peak season down here, when the station population swells to 1100+. It's when most of the science takes place and the bulk of other activities). Our first flight was scheduled to land around noon and the first batch of winterovers were all set to depart.

But, being Antarctica, things didn't quite come off like that. The first flight was delayed 24hrs due to weather here. A second attempt was made the following day but a mechanical error forced the place to turn around an hour into the flight. Days were then spent waiting for a part to be flown in from the US and then for that part to be installed.

While all of this waiting was going on people, scheduled to come down here on later flights, prebooked on commercial flights to Christchurch continued to arrive into NZ and wait for their flight. This creates a bit of a problem for the program because there are only so many hotel rooms available on such short notice and since the first few flights down here are filled to capacity you can't add people to the flights. All of our flights have a maximum passenger capacity of 130 people.

Things are a bit different for winterovers waiting to leave here. Since our numbers are fewer and our release dates are staggered it's much easier to add winterovers to the next available flight north. Of course this doesn't make delays any more palatable. When you have been here for 7-14 months those last few days can seem endless. Especially for the folks who were supposed to leave on Tuesday and, since they were no longer needed at work, had nothing to do but drink.

You can't do much about the delays when you are waiting here. You can only hope they end soon and that your off-ice travel plans aren't too badly destroyed. I know a good number of people had plans to attend a seafood festival in NZ, and had prebooked transport/tickets, that ended up missing it and losing money.

Yesterday the first flight finally made it in and I watched more than half of the winter population, my friends, fly away. Because of all the delays we had close to 90 winterovers leave on the same flight which is pretty much unheard of. What was to be a week of slow, leisurely, goodbyes became a cluster of confused goodbyes and an orgy of hugs. Many of these people, unless they come back next season, I will probably never see again.

I was one of the drivers for passenger transport yesterday (I got to drive our big 56 passenger "terrabus") so I was out at the airfield for the arrival of the plane and the depature of the winterovers. As many times as I have been at the airfield I never get tired of going out there. I love the energy in the air, the excitment of those new arrivals getting their first glimpse of this beautiful and strange place or the eagerness, mixed with hesitation, from those waiting to leave. I love that I get to play a part in an activity like this that I would never experience in the real world. Plus it's pretty cool to see the plane land. To look up at the sky, normally inhabited only by clouds, and suddenly see a dark dot that grows in stature and color as it approaches.

Getting back into town I dropped off my passengers, filled my bus up with fuel (25 gallons) and drove to the parking lot where the bus decided to die. 30 seconds from it's parking spot it overheated and got "stuck" at a major intersection. Oh well. We got it restarted and brought up to the heavy shop for maintenance. I hope it runs today when I take it out again.

When I returned to my dorm I was overcome with a sense of melancholy as I walked through the halls and thought of people who were suddenly no longer around. I was invited to a party last night which I ended up skipping. The start of mainbody really makes me feel like I don't belong here any more, that my time is definitely over. I keep thinking about all the exciting things that the summer people have to look forward to and I get a bit sad, a bit nostalgic, when I realize I won't be a part of those activities. I need to get out into the world again, to get a bit perspective about this place.

So instead I got drunk with a winterover friend who will be leaving later this week and passed out by 10:30, oblivious to the parties going on around town and the new arrivals good cheer.

Today more people arrive and I am one day closer to leaving on October 12th.

any Australians???

Wed, 30 Sep 2009 17:37:49 GMT

Hello Australians!! I will be visiting, briefly, your country in a few weeks and am looking for Livejournalers to meetup with along the way....

I will be in Sydney on 10/22, 10/23 and the morning of 10/24.

I will be in Perth on 10/27 and 10/28

I will be in Darwin on 12/11

I will be back in Sydney on 12/12 for a 12/13 AM departure to Hawaii.

Do you live in one of these places? Are you free for these days? Do you care to show a crusty Antarctica winterover around? Let me know!!

(comments screened)

2 weeks

Sun, 27 Sep 2009 16:42:29 GMT

2 weeks and this all comes to an end. The cold, the pretty view of the mountains, the carefree living that is characteristic of this place it all ends when I am abruptly transported and dumped into the waiting warmth (and indifference) of Christchurch NZ where I will spend a week working on medical clearance for next season and then slip once more into the role of anonymous traveler, taking up space in other cultures hoping, and trying desperately, to fill the void that my own leaves me with.

A bit too melancholy? I suppose. But I've been up since 4 am with an unquiet mind that is suddenly demanding answers that I just don't know to the questions that always seem to linger.

I had this moment last night when I had absolutely nothing to do and I thought to myself this is as sign as any that it's time for me to go. I was wandering around the halls aimlessly, too frenetic to be in my room, too bored to spend any substantial amount of time hiking, and realized that at that moment, with one exception, there was nothing down here that could satiate myself.

And even now this feeling continues.

I don't mean to paint a bleak picture because that isn't fair. These past few weeks have been wonderful and I am so thankful that I have had a chance to be here for them. I have been more social than I have been in a long time and I have rediscovered the joys that come from that.

As I get closer to my departure date there is a certain weirdness that has been creeping up on me. I think the best way to describe it is as coming to the end of a high school year. It's june right now, my grades are already in and now I am just killing the days that the school board says I have to be here. Summer vacation is right around the corner and am I eager for it to begin, eager for that carefreeness, that sense that anything can (and will) happen.

still here...

Fri, 18 Sep 2009 18:48:10 GMT

LJ tells me it has been more than a week since my last post and now I feel a bit guilty. Not a whole lot for public consumption has been going on down here. Spare time has been fleeting as my social calendar is filled. My flight date was changed on me so now I leave here on Oct 12th instead of Oct 15th. It means a couple of extra days in Christchurch, with the associated added expenses, but I think it is for the best. I have to complete all of my medical/dental/psych requirements when I am there because the plan is to come back next winter. I got my contract offer this morning and should have a signed one within the next few days.

WInfly comes to an end in about 9 days. Most of the winterovers will start leaving en masse then. Even though I hate the franchise, I kind of feel like the elves in LOTR, getting ready to leave Middle Earth: "Now comes the time of summerers, may they be blessed!!"

my anniversary

Tue, 08 Sep 2009 07:18:00 GMT

One year ago today I set foot on this beautiful continent for the first time. I still can't believe a full year has gone by. It has been fun, one of my best. But I do wonder, on occasion, what "alternate-universe" me is up to, the one who decided against coming down here. Is he having fun? I hope so...

From two days ago, nacreous clouds fill the sky. Oh the beauty....

how to spot a winter over!

Tue, 08 Sep 2009 07:11:18 GMT

With all of the new people on station it's important to develop strategies to spot the winterovers. This is something everyone really needs to participate in, from the confused WOs looking for a familar face (everyone looks the same when we are bundled up) to the full of excitement FNG who still can't believe they are in Antarctica. Lately I have been relying on a combination of 3 sound strategies to get me through the day without making a critical faux pas of confusing a FNG for a winterover.

The easiest way to spot a winterover is to look for their service medal. Everyone, by congressional decree, who spends more than 30 days in Antarctica is eligible for a medal. This is a throwback to when the Navy used to run the station. Nowadays there isn't enough funding to provide everyone who comes down here with a medal so only the winterovers get them. Apparently summer folks will get a medal eventually but I think the waiting list is about 10 years long. Along with the medal winterovers get a special "winter over" pin to attach to the medal. This is the crucial element.

If a WO isn't wearing their medal or you are outside the easiest way to spot a WO is to look at their jacket. Everyone that comes down here is issued a "big red" parka so we all pretty much look the same on the outside. However the new folks have semi-new, super bright, really clean jackets. The WOs? Not so much. We have been toiling in the same coat for 6-12 months and during that time the red shine has been rubbed off, the color has faded and in some cases a thick layer of dirt and grime has appeared. This is my favorite method of spotting a winterover. I know my jacket is pretty much black and I am quite proud of that. It says that I have been working my ass off all winter, getting dirty, while the FNGs were playing in beaches and rolling around in the grass. With kittens. It also says I have been too buzy to even consider washing my coat. This is my real medal.

(this is actually my second coat. I got a new one back in May)

The third way to spot a winterover requires a bit more effort and a little interaction. If the WO isn't wearing their coat or their medal it's still possible to figure out that they wintered if you listen carefully to the words they use when speaking. Having spent so many months down here we no longer tread carefully or gingerally approach company policies. We will call BS when we see it (and that's often it seems) whereas a FNG is still too into their "oh my gawd it's antarctica" phase to really question what goes on down here.

This was highlighted to me a few days ago with the arrival of the handwashing police. When I got here last year there were a few nights when management guarded the doors to the galley to make sure that everyone was washing their hands. It was silly, insulting and cemented the idea that we are treated like children down here. But since I was only a week into my Antarctica experience I really didn't care. I chuckled it away as being part of the "experience". This year they did this again (for 3 days) and I was beyond pissed at the whole thing. Gone was the time when I chuckled this away. Gone was the time when I chalked it up as being part of the experience. A year in, this was BS. Anyone that asked me about it I would unload. It actually made me purposely try to avoid washing my hands.

Easy, huh?

the coldest day?

Wed, 02 Sep 2009 09:23:50 GMT

I think today might have been the coldest day I have ever experienced. In town we had -93 windchill (upwards of 50mph wind) and the ambient temperature, before windchill, was averaging around -47. Those measurements are in farenheit.

My 5 minute walk to work was not fun today, particularly when the wind got to strong to move forward.