Kangaroos surprise you.

There are moments. Moments when you are with a kangaroo in a new and strange land, and it's right in front of you, so close that it's touching you, so you reach down and pet it. Moments when that small, three foot tall kangaroo looks up at you, with this look in its gentle black eyes: a combination of curiosity and contentedness. There are moments when you look at that kangaroo, eyes locked in mutual understanding, and you just know that that kangaroo is taking a dump on your shoe.

But then he hops away, and you see that he didn't take a dump on your shoe. And then you realize -- that's what kangaroos do. Kangaroos surprise you.

Stopping to listen and look

I've been in Sydney for a few days now, and am happy to have stayed in one place for a little while. I'm staying at a very cool modified Victorian hostel (here they are simply called 'backpackers') right in the King's Cross section of town, which is has a similar feel to the Mission District in SF. The hostel is eclectic and international; the hallways echo with different discussions in a mixture of languages, a French conversation blending in with German one -- like a linguistic stew.

Even in a big city like this, where the identity of a country's people can be hard to spot, I've already seen what it was about Australia that made me want to visit - the people. Case in point:

Out at a very crowded pub last night, I felt someone's hand on my back. Instinctively suspicious, I turned around with a raised eyebrow. The guy behind me said " D'ya mind if I get by, mate?"
"Not at all," I said.
I guess he could see my confusion, so he said "Sorry, I just like to ask instead of just pushing through, ya know?"
Yes. I do know. I said thanks.


I think I've heard that a country's heart is with its people.... I think I'll like Australia's heart.

Genuine Ham, Pressed by Actual Armadillos

Country Number Two -- Australia.

Made it in today at about 7am (got up at 2:30am for the flight -- ugh), and after an hour and a half line at customs just to tell them that I didn't have any broccoli, bananas or livestock in my backpack, I made it into the sunlight of Sydney. I'm very thankful for the uptick in temperature -- I don't think I'll need my wool sweater anymore.

So, I was pretty tired when I got in, but I spent all day walking anyway... it felt good to be in a sunny city again. I went to the New South Wales Art Gallery, watched a soccer game in Hyde Park (two companies playing each other I think, and in the middle of the day), checked out the Royal Botanical Gardens. And though I had no plans to see it today... there it was: the Sydney Opera House. As touristy as something like that can be, there's something about seeing it in person. It really was an impressive sight. I must've taken 5 or 6 mediocre photos, and then just gawked at it with a grin on my face. I can see the whole shell-design thing I guess, but truth be told, I thought it looked a bit more like a gaggle of armadillos mooning the city. I don't know; as I said, I was tired.

Eddie and Macaulay on the road to Christchurch

Ever taken a 12-hour bus trip in the rain? Ever had to watch Daddy Day Care and Home Alone 2 while doing so? Ever wondered what you'd done to deserve this?

Now, pictures:

Well, the NZ leg of my trip has come to a close. In a word -- BEAUTIFUL. It's like Nature's all-star team--I would love to come back here, as there is so much more. Here's a random summary of my time here --

Most common color seen: Green

Most common feature of land: Hill

Most serene feature of land: Dale

Most impressive feature of land: Mountain

Most commonly heard music on radio: Maroon 5, Jack Johnson, Kiwi band The Exponents

Most unique alphabetic quirk: Calling the letter 'z' -- "Zed"

Best Sychronized Dance by Rugby Players: The All Blacks' Haka or War Dance, done before every match





My most common meal: (tie) ham sandwich, Baked beans and toast

Favorite NZ beer: Tui (North Island), Speights (South Island)

Most common nationality of fellow traveler: British (many)

Least common nationality of fellow traveler: Morrocan (none)

Most unlikely name for an Irish settlement: Hokitika (gold mining town on West Coast, almost entirely Irish when settled)

Favorite spot: Milford Sound, Fiordland National Park

Favorite kiwi phrase: "Sweet as"

Favorite fellow traveler: Alistair Irvine, from the UK. Soft-spoken guy in his early fifties, who had recently gotten divorced. Sold the house, and used some of the money from that to travel around the world, similar to a trip he did twenty years ago. He'll use the rest of the money to buy a flat when he gets back; then he "just needs to find a job".

Fee-ORD. K-eye-AKK.

On the other end of some major time spent bus-bound on the West Coast, I finally found myself at my southernmost destination: Milford Sound.

Milford Sound is not a sound. It is a fiord. This was a point made to me many times, followed by a desciption of glacial carving, etc..... I just wanted to see the big funky mountain-ocean thing.

And there she was: all snow capped peaks, sheer sides and shimmering waters. And in an uncanny stroke of odds-beating luck, I got to see it on a sunny day. Milford is one of the wettest places on the planet -- averaging around 23 or so feet of rain a year, spread over 300 days. I got to see 2 of their scant 65 days of sun.

So, I took to a kayak. Kay-ak. (Between those two words, kayak and fiord, I had more fun saying them to myself in my head than I do with most other pursuits. With the former I was partial to a German-tinged "KAYAK", spoken like a trooper saying "Achtung!", and for fiord I opted for the more logical Swedish Chef rendition: "Eeee - fiord! fiord! fiord!")

Anyway, I went out on a sea kayak into the sound. There were about 15 of us in the group, led by our guides.... and it was stunning. The scenery alone would've been enough, but we had company. First, the fur seals played together right aound us, alternatively rolling over in the water and lounging, looking up to the sky and wiping their faces with their flippers. At one point, we were within about 7 feet of them, and they didn't seem to mind. But the highlight was the bottlenose dolphins -- a small pod swam near us, slowly moving among the kayaks, curious. They would swim from one area of the sound to another, popping up to let some air out, always close enough to be seen by us and sometimes within 15 feet.

And then they were gone. Until -- at the end of the trip, as we were heading in, I heard a big splash. I looked toward the splash and out of the water, in arched grace, were three dolphins, jumping in the sun. They were sychronized too; like a rogue Sea World splinter group, auditioning for a southern audience. The guide said he had only seen something like that one other time in all of the times he'd been out. It's definitely not like anything I've seen, and it will stay with me for a long time.