Old Pictures Now, New Words Later

Farewell and Arrival

The day of departure. A final sandwich. Deli meat is too expensive in New Zealand. Thank you U.S. customs for invading my personal privacy for my personal security, you make my day. I had a three and a half hour layover in San Fransisco, so my godfather met me at the airport. Stepping off the subway, I stepped into the concert hall of a bearded man and his banjo. He was sitting at the bottom of the escalator. With confidence brought by the mandolin strapped to my pack, I nodded and smiled at him. In response, his single eyebrow twitched and furiously folded into itself. He then threw his head to the side and laughed with rhythm and tune to his plucking. Michael and I rode up onto the bay, bridge overhead, the hills over the water, the sun over us. On the street I noticed an IRO (NR!) built up with cruiser bars. On the bike I notice a set of boots and a polkadot skirt. I plan to spend more time in San Fransisco. After a dinner of sushi and filet mignon, watching the sun set, I forcibly inserted myself into a plane seat. The flight was as unremarkable as any 17 hour flight could be. Except when I watched Star Trek and started tearing up from excitement, and the old New Zealand couple next to me grew really interested. The first thing the Auckland airport offers to its fresh-off-the-plane arrivees is two large bottles of colorful hapiness for only $79. I saw two (fat) (American) (probably 18 and overexcitable) girls with a handle of vodka for each hand. I was already kind of sick feeling. I missed the entire flight to Christchurch, including take off and landing. There, I followed the arrows to my bikebox and gearbag and dragged it to a shuttle that took me directly to my hostel. I have spent almost two days here, watching baby ducks at the river, smelling the blooming city (it's spring here), and talking to people from all populated continents. I will post pictures later when I can use my own computer and internet at the same time. Thanks to all who helped to get here, much love, cheers,
Cyril