Papa Can't Afford a Brand New Bag

I'm venturing into week six of my 15-week trip and I'm still struggling to find someone who thinks my services are worth actual payment. I knew going into journalism I was entering a career that would provide some struggles in the monetary realm, and that was a fact that I was okay with. What I'm less okay with, and what is sometimes difficult to wrap my head around, is how I managed to pick the one field that is considered by all accounts to be a dying one. Bankruptcy is likely at the doorstep of every major newspaper in the world over the next 5-10 years. Magazines, my breed of interests, are fairing a little better, but I would suspect they're not far behind either.

The Internet, arguably the most powerful tool for information available, is the dirty little culprit. And the fact that this surprises me - the man who wakes up every morning and catches up on his news with a few clicks of the mouse - is quite sad. Will this technological beast be a provider of jobs to aspiring journalists like myself? I think only time will tell, but I'm not incredibly optimistic about it.

That hoopla aside, I did meet with the editor of local news-magazine The Aucklander and had a little chit-chat about potential work in the area. He's currently looking into a copy editing position for a local printing press that would, if possible, pay for my services - an exciting and rare transaction that occasionally happens in this kind of work. Admittedly, copy editing is far from my forte as I grew up in the spell check age and used it to its full potential. But they don't need to know that.

As far as recent events, this past Sunday Will and I went to Bethells Beach on the west cost for a nice morning hike. For the most part, nothing different from our usual hikes: beautiful weather and breath-taking scenery. Your typical Utopian paradise. I'm sure you understand. No really. Go turn up your heater. You're probably freezing.

The event worthy of note, however, was our abseiling adventure down another hill/cliff/mountain/all-of-the-above. On this particular day the ground was extremely muddy. And, as one might expect, mud+abseiling is likely a recipe for disaster. To clarify, to be able to successfully scale down a hill with a rope, you need to be able to plant your feet firmly to the ground, which in turns shifts your body weight to your legs and holds you in place.

What Will and I managed to do wasn't abseiling, per se. It was more like mudsliding, backwards, whilst gripping a rope for dear life - in style. Will assured me it was perfectly safe, but in our little duo I'm typically the voice of reason. And by voice of reason I mean I'm the only friend who cares enough to tell Will when he's being an idiot. This was one of those times. I got myself into a situation where I was absolutely certain if I moved another inch I was going to slide all the way down this mountainside (Note to Mom: this is all for show - I was totally safe. Really). So I began ranting to Will, who was already quite a bit below me, what an incredibly bad idea this was and there was no way we were going to be able to get back up. Because, lets be honest, sliding DOWN mud is certainly possible. But sliding up mud? I barely passed physics in college, but I think this one is a no-brainer.

As it usually goes though, I was talked into continuing our nonsensical adventure and within 30 minutes we'd completed our descent. The prize, of course, was another private beach to ourselves that nobody else would dare be insane enough to try and access. We had lunch, took some pictures, and headed back up. As it turned out, it wasn't nearly as impossible as I'd talked myself into believing and we made it back to the top in half the time.

Thus ended my 5th week here in kiwiland.

Thanks for reading. Miss you all.

Mudsliding guru,
John

Knee Slappers

I distinctly remember a thought process I had as a child that has recently become relevant. One day I was people-watching with my grandfather (a favorite pastime of mine) and I saw a much older man having a very difficult time getting around. I remember thinking how irresponsible it was that someone would let themselves get into such poor shape. In little John-John's world, everything in life could be controlled. Our success, our failures, our health, our state of mind, were all practically something we decided for ourselves. Ignorance, as they say, is bliss. I was entirely oblivious to the association of age and physical ineptitude. But even as I grew into my teens I struggled with the concept of aging. I only got faster over time. My reflexes and dexterity improved and, honestly, it all seemed to come naturally (as it tends to do with all teenage boys who associate youth with invisibility).

But it wasn't until at least a decade later that I started to realize even my body has its limits. Between the weekend hikes, the weekday walks, the daily gym sessions and the Tuesday soccer games, I've known to some small degree how it felt for that old man of my past.

Last Tuesday we had our third soccer match, and after two losses I was certainly hoping our luck might change. It didn't begin well when we started with only five players on the field. But, in the end, our division-6 team of mostly guys who 'used to play' managed a 2-0 win. And victory was only sweetened by my scoring of the final goal. A breakaway in the last two minutes left me and the opposing team's goalkeeper in a one-on-one situation, to which he attempted to get into my head with some encouraging words - "well mate, give it your best" - right before I rattled the hell out of the ball into the back of the net.

But, as they also say, some things are bitter sweet. In the split second before I was able to shoot the ball, one of the defenders gave me a quick ankle-tap, causing me to nearly trip and almost stealing from me a minuscule moment of sport-induced glory.

As a young teen, ankle taps were a regular part of the games I played and never once did they cause any sort of injury. Even at 24, however, apparently the body is more prone to injuries from the slightest irregular movement. The goal has since caused me a week-long limp that appears to be improving at a surprisingly slow rate.

I guess what I gather from all this - and to make sure to clarify that I'm NOT looking for pity points (but if you want to send me sweet e-mails of concern I'm sure it'll dull the pain) - is that our bodies, I think, come with some sort of built-in pre-geriatric mechanism that not-so-subtly warns us to SLOW DOWN. That we're not as invincible as we thought we once were. I'm not suggesting by any means that regular exercise and athletics should be discouraged (especially not in our mid 20s for cryin' out loud), just that it appears our bodies don't just begin to give out once we hit nifty 50. I'm sure all you oldies out there reading this have no sympathy for me whatsoever, but you could have at least given a man a fair warning.

I wouldn't call this much of an update, so I apologize if you came looking for another installment of New Zealand adventures. But at the moment I'm too focused on the countless muscles that I didnt even know existed throbbing throughout my body.

Reality checked,
John

Heat Wave!

Chicago Tribune reporter Mary Schmich wrote an essay in the late '90s titled "Advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young." It was a hypothetical commencement speech that she wrote to the graduating classes of that year. This beautifully written address began and ended with the same priceless advice: wear sunscreen.

Sitting here now, I can certainly attest to the value of such wisdom, and the unfortunate reminder that results when said advice is not heeded. Let me just say that if it wasn't for the miraculous healing power of aloe vera, I would spending the next few days lying in a cold bath of water, cursing the world.

Will and I decided to take a little road-trip up to the Coromandel this past Saturday and enjoy some of the excellent (see: extremely hot) weather. It was about a 3+ hour drive, which put us there around 10 am on Saturday morning. The sky was a bit overcast and it wasn't too warm yet, so we decided we'd be safe to take a little morning walk before lathering on the spf 50.

The sun apparently doesn't appreciate having its might put into question. About 30 minutes down the beach it decided to sneak up on us like a thief in the night (for lack of a better and less-ironic simile). We reached the car under the false hope that maybe it hadn't 'noticed us' yet. Maybe, we thought, if we rushed to put on sunscreen now, it might magically counterattack the effects of UV rays seeping into our flesh for the last hour unprotected. Unfortunately, like most forms of mysticism, that simply wasn't the case.

The result would be comical if it didn't hurt so much to laugh. The sun apparently had a little more bone to pick with Will, as he took the majority of the burn and ended up with a perfect outline of the area where his skin wasn't protected by his shirt. I, on the other hand, ended up with a very burned neck, which apparently is much funnier to Will who instantly recognized the connection to my southern heritage. Rednecks - as they say - are proud of it.

That aside, our adventure to the Coromandel somehow managed to top all previous trips. These are basically the beaches that even New Zealanders consider vacation spots, which says a lot considering I'm in a country where you can be at a beach within hours regardless of where you live. Walking along the sand, looking out into infinity, was truly surreal. I couldn't stop thinking that there weren't enough hours in the day for me to take it all in and truly appreciate the experience to its full potential.

Will wanted to take a hike to some rock formations nearby where we could jump into the ocean. We decided to go a little off-road, like we do, and see if we could scale along the rocks that outline the beach at low tide. The trick here, of course, is to make sure we reach our destination BEFORE high tide. After 30 minutes of taking this improvised path, we were within site of the rock formations. The only problem was that the outlining rocks had suddenly become steep cliffs that only a very advanced climber would dare attempt, lest ye be thrown into the jagged rocks below.

Our only option was to turn back and return to the beach. Hastily. About 20 minutes into our walk back, the tide began to come in. Although we were still at a safe distance above the water, one surprise wave swept up and slapped Will in the face, taking with it a nice trophy - Will's $300 prescription glasses. Sad to say, this suddenly became a slightly more expensive trip for my good buddy.

After a few hours of swimming in the crystalline waters, we made our way back home. This time a little more slowly, as Will can't exactly see much at a distance without his glasses and I cant exactly drive by New Zealand laws. I swear, if you stuck the two of us in a china shop we'd give the bull a run for his money.

Lastly, and as a somewhat-unrelated side note, I highly recommend listening to the commencement address that I mentioned above, and you can hear it (put to music) at:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfq_A8nXMsQ

If you can't view videos or listen to audio, you can read the speech here (although I have to say the video is much, much more powerful):

http://256.com/gray/quotes/schmich.html

It's one of those speeches that can put your life back into perspective for those of us who constantly need a nudge in the right direction. Please take 7 minutes of your day for that. I promise you won't regret it.

Warm to the touch,
John

Risky Business

I remember reading somewhere along the way that the key to tackling apathy and "learning something about yourself" is to just say "yes." For some people, trying new things and being proactive about how to spend their day may come naturally. I'm sure these are the same people that grew up knowing, from the age of 8, what they wanted to do with the rest of their life, and were incredibly successful at doing it. These are the people that forced humanity to create the word "envy" and the phrase, "love to hate." I'm not yet convinced they're even human, to be honest, but ironically my utter lack of passion - the very thing they possess so much of - hinders me from caring enough to look deeper into the matter.

But alas, I have always been the guy who finds some excuse, justified in my mind, to avoid trying something new and exciting because I struggled to be excited by its novelty. And I'm slowly, but surely, working on correcting that.

This past weekend I experienced a lot of "firsts" in my life. For example, on Friday we had a "guy’s night" at a local fine-dining establishment called Tusca (which was, among other things, known for its fantastic Sangria by the liter.) I'm going to give away how uncultured I am by admitting that I had calamari for the first time - and I loved it. It was not the rubbery, tasteless dish I had been warned about. It was incredibly delicate with a texture similar to pasta (drenched in butter and oil, which never hurts). Going along with the culinary theme, I also tried pork belly on Saturday night, which I will attempt to recreate when I get back home for my family and girlfriend. And they will enjoy every. last. bite.

On Sunday, Will and I took another tramp (hike), which we've been doing a lot recently. On this particular tramp, we reached a high point where we could take a more experienced trail down the mountain. On the climb down, I was only able to see the trail three feet in front of me before it dropped suddenly, at which point I had to very carefully ascend to the next part. There was about two feet of width to the edge of the cliff, which, by instinct, you tell yourself doesn’t exist. And you definitely don't look down. It's quite a mind job and would be very easy to psyche yourself out. This, really, could be the most dangerous aspect next to falling since the climb is about 45 minutes down and once you’ve started you’re kind of committed to finish.

At several points in this climb there were near-90 degree drops of rock with a rope attached at the top. To give you an idea of my experience level, I'm not sure I even comprehended what abseiling WAS until I was in a situation where I was forced to do it. But with some helpful guidance from Will I found myself hanging perpendicular to a cliff, walking backwards down jagged rocks. And I'm not being melodramatic.

It was truly thrilling. I only worried a little about the potential danger, knowing that as long as I was careful and watched my movements I wasn't putting myself at (too much) risk. The payoff, at the end, was well worth it. We ended up in an enormous, secluded beach that could only be accessed by the 40-minute climb down, meaning we had the entire area to ourselves. We did some exploring, and ended up in a dark, damp cave that would normally have been completely underwater at high tide. We walked through it for about two minutes, at points feeling our way through pitch-black, making it to the other side where we had to climb out. Needless to say, I was feeling very Robinson Crusoe by the end of it all. It’s times like this, however, that one learns to truly appreciate being born in a period when hot showers exist.

It's currently a little late, which always affects my writing in some way as I tend to be compelled to reach some all-encompassing conclusion about what I've experienced - in this case, maybe a hint of perspective. Although I am, and likely always will be, somewhat of a loner at heart, there is certainly something to be said about opening yourself up to every experience available. I think those alien-people who find their passions at age 8 are the personalities that welcome new experiences, while many of us are content, for the most part, with what's comfortable. With what's familiar. And I'm starting to think that's treading on dangerous ground. Without meaning to sound too sage, I'm discovering more and more while I'm here that it's necessary to always try and surprise yourself. Otherwise you risk forgetting, if only to some degree, how it feels to live.

I hope everyone is enjoying this little blog. It’s good for me to keep writing in a time where I have plenty of time to do it (see: unemployed). I miss you all.

Sleep tight,
John