Saturday, September 13th~
Today is a cold and gray day, identical to the one that greeted me on my arrival in Christchurch just over a week ago. It gives a sort of symmetry to the trip, I suppose. I got up and checked out of the hostel, stashed my stuff there and went off to say my goodbyes to New Zealand. Last night, Chelsea and Scotty had told me about a market that happens every Saturday, so I headed there first. They hadn’t quite finished setting up, so I treated myself to a delicious breakfast (one last decadent meal for the vacation), and went to browse the stands. I decided to splurge and but myself a jade pendant. I mentioned before that jade, or “greenstone” as it is more colloquially called, is really prominent in New Zealand. It has always been special to the Maori people, and there are certain shapes carved out of the stone that have special meaning to them; the twisted one that looks like a figure-8 (but can have more twists than just one), signifies two lives being bound together, and the spiral represents new birth. I bought a fishhook pendant. It represents “strength and determination and brings peace, prosperity and good health; also provides safe journey over water.” I am happy I have it, something to connect me to the country.
I wandered around for a little longer, then hopped on a shuttle to the International Antarctic Center. Way fun! I want to go there, man! Antarctica, that is. As an attraction, the center rocks! I rode on the Hägglund (the specialized vehicle for traveling over the harsh Antarctic terrain) on a cool obstacle course, watched a penguin feeding, weathered an Antarctic windstorm, watched all kinds of documentaries, and all-around boned up on my Antarctica trivia. The only thing I couldn’t find out was how much plane tickets are to get there. Very fun, though.
I walked from there to the international terminal across the street, dragging me increasingly dilapidated duffel behind me. I think this trip might be the end of the road for my duffel. I suppose it was never going to last forever. Besides, now that I’ve done a little bit of traveling, I desperately want to invest ina backpack. I think that I finally appreciate how much I can streamline my packing. My flight back to Sydney was on Emirates Airline. Love! It was so so nice! The food (lamb stew) was excellent, the wine was free, and I got to watch An Affair to Remember and have myself a good cry. (I think I need to move that film to my top 10. Maybe it’s there already.) But yeah, Emirates rocks.
When I got back to Sydney, I was going to see if I could ditch my duffel somewhere for the night so that I didn’t have to drag it around and further mutilate it. Note: it is impossible to get from the International Terminal to the Domestic Terminal on foot in Sydney, and you need to pay for the shuttle. What a crock! Well, I had a little sidewalk conference with one of the shuttle drivers, and we determined that I could save about $50 and a whole lot of hassle if I just crashed in the International Terminal for the night. Which I did. I figured, in addition to the economical benefit, it would just be an experience worth having once in my life, and why not have it on my terms? So I bought myself some junk food, busted out the book I bought in Christchurch (The Book Theif, an excellent read), and killed a couple of hours reading. Then it was time for the sleeping. The bench I had claimed in the terminal had four seats on it and was so close to being armless, and yet so far away. There was a sort of awkward divider kind of jutting out between each seat, so it was possible to avoid most of them if you curled up just right, but there was always at least one stubborn bar jabbing me. However, with some clever positioning of my sweatshirt, fleece and bookbag, I was able to sleep in hour increments throughout the night.
Hard to believe that morning comes early in an international terminal.
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