The Final Final Post (this time I'm serious)

Well there's really no reason for me to write - or you to read for that matter - this post, except for the fact that now my blog has finished at a crisp 50 posts. So woo! 50 Posts! (the legitimacy of all of which, is not open to discussion).

But to make it at least somewhat relevant, I have a stat.. I was gifted this book '1000 places to see before you die' in Easter and have calculated that after gracing 28 countries I'm 7% of the way there! Given that over 7% of my life has already passed it's clear that I have some catching up to do, but hey that's what ridiculously large lists are all about. So bring on the next 927.

June 20 - Brass Monkey Ultimate Tournament

Well one things for sure - the last post was a blatant lie, not the final one at all! But I have a pretty solid justification, because after landing in Auckland I headed straight to Rotorua for a weekend ultimate frisbee tournament, and so technically it's part of the world lap as it happened before I got home. And yes it was definitely worth it, as my sleep-to-wake ratio of about 1:4 together with a wee bit of food poisining and a few other bonus extras was meet by two 7-hour days of ultimate frisbee. And watching the All Blacks game from the comfort of a thermal spa, which was the really tough part obviously. But having to sit outside in the cold between games to stay awake and battling health all the way didn't only pay off with a top five placing, but also a prize at the end for my dedication! And so everytime I look at that black devil-horned ruber ducky sitting proudly on my shelf I will be reminded of the sweetest ultimate tourney of my career. Cheers Brass Monkey.

Me with my infamous hat-drawn team of sunday's outdoor competition - Mydoom.

Cheers to my wicked MUCOUS team mates for the ultimate welcome home (pun fully intended), and for the lift back to the Manawatu! See ya soon.

The Final Post

And so my trip has come to an end yet the irony of traveling will never settle - that I feel more like I haven't started than before I ventured out. Why? Because the more you see the less it feels like you've seen. Because seeing a place serves only to highlight how big the wolrd really is, and how much there is left to be seen. The beauty of travel of course lies in it's very definition, for a focus on the transition between destinations and not destinations themselves means that we are left with the possibility to continue it perpetually. And the weight of never having it completely 'done' is far outweighed by the inspiration and enticement of knowing theres always more out there. Of course this is not a pledge to a life of continually moving hippieness, for traveling also has the opposite effect in its teaching of an appreciation of home. This is perhaps the greatest lesson of all, for it also teaches us that home does not always pertain to a place, but can also be a single person, a lifestyle, or a certain place in time.

If I were to define traveling, to summarise its entire existence, it would be the act of chasing freedom. And over the last 6 months I have managed to cacth up to it, in fleeting eternal moments like seeing Araura Borealis dance across the sky; manouvering a snowboard between giant Canadian Fir trees at night in a whiteout; watching an elderly Malay woman weaving a basket with an aura of peace so bright it singed anyone in the vicinity; sharing a life with those closest to me; feeling a team of huskies dragging a sled through the snow; and having a coffee at the end of it all.

WHERE TO FROM HERE..
Europe has some amazing sights, places which as a member of the human race we are in a sense obliged to see, however I've come to recognise the need for a greater challenge. There is indeed challenge in attempting to decipher the Cyrillic alphabet of a timetable in Bulgaria 7 minutes before you're train departs, or devouring a plate of rotten shark meat at a backstreet market in Iceland, but for travel itself the frontier lies beyond the West. This is why a stop off to see Borneo was an indespensible, and consequently unforgettable addition. But then I always enjoy the challenge of traveling Europe's expensive countries with funds not even a nepalese sherper would be proud of, and so with that challenge in place I will always return. The true motive for any return to Europe however, will always be the people who occupy it; People who will forever be more interesting, more insightful, and more beautiful than any mountain, lake, or ocean could ever be. I feel honoured to have meet such people and owe them all so much for inspiring me to travel.

I think it's about time that I offered something useful on here, to give back a little something to those who have sacrificed a slice of their day to read this blog. So here's some practical advice in the form of travel tips. Tried and tested the world over, these few are guarantee to never let you down (most of the others I have aren't quite as "reliable" so I'll leave them out). Enjoy.


GARETH'S TOP TRAVEL TIPS

When going out for lunch order a wrap - their efficiency and down right genius will serve as a constant reminder to roll (and never to fold) your clothes.

Head to places where you're the only one from your country, that way when you do something wrong (like ruin the dinner or not brush your teeth) you simply say "this is how we do it where I'm from".

Fight sleep and it will fight you right back.

Make friends with air hostesses - they're the only people who can get you free food when you need it most.

If a guy by the name of 'Riccardo' offers you a cheap deal on a used car in the murky shadows of upper Kyrkogårdsgatan after 11pm, just say no.

Know that there is no such thing as a bad experience.

When heading through airports, freshen up by 'sampling' an array of cologne and perfume at duty free. much more convenient than finding a shower, and has a longerlasting effect.

Travel not to see the world, but the people of it.

THANKS DUDES..
And so finally I want to give a big ups to everone who made this trip what it was. So cheers to Janine for a start! To Malcolm and Silvia for the touch of home, Maris and all you Monroe guys from NY, Woody and the Woodmans (including extended 'family' - thats you brog), Michelle, Murt and Lorr, to Exchange/Erasmus 09 I love you dudes, Rackarbergsgatan Lilla Sunnersta and Galbo, Kim Tim & Flippin and the Vemdaleners, Lotta & The Berlings & Team Gotland, The Raj Family and especially Deb, my homies at home, all the faces I meet, to my cellphone which took almost every photo you see on here, and to of course Sarah. Go hard and God Bless.

G

June 19 - Home

I lifted my sleep deprived head to the nearest window of the near-empty 777 and observed the distant horizon. The next thing that went through my head was exactly this: "Hah, that cloud looks like a mountain. Wait a minute, that cloud is a mountain" as Taranaki poked proudly through the endless sea of white surrounding it. So you can imagine the excitement when a second cloud, which looked exactly like Mt Ruapehu, turned out to be a real mountain as well! At this point I knew, after 6 months, I was home.

New Zealand Mate!

After 20 flights, 9 countries, and over a dozen pizzas, the lap was complete and I was back where it all started. But not without gaining something..

The Annual Airline Awards

As the 09 World Lap enters into it's final leg and my trip is drawing to a close, it's time to honour the various airlines which have hosted me throughout the year. Unfortunately all those trains, buses, taxis, other trains, bikes (of which there's to many to count), and mates cars don't feature in this: The 09 Airline Awards:

MALAYSIAN AIRLINES Winner of the best in-flight elevator-music category

RYANAIR The airline most likely to introduce standing room on flights

SAS SCANDINAVIAN The letting-me-carry-a-knife-onboard award

AIR CANADA Record holder for delaying luggage (15 days - slashing the old personal best of 8 hours held by America's own Jetblue)

MAS WINGS Award for the longest cruising altitute length of 2 minutes and 20 seconds

Congratulations to all you winners. For the rest of you, better luck next year..

June 15 - Mulu Caves

This time I think Ill start where I seldom do - at the very beginning by firstly introducing Gunung Mulu National Park. This is because this is a place well worthy of appreciation, and so the chance to see it in the flesh (by flesh I mean jungle and rock) was something far beyond what a simple recognition and appreciation could ever conjure.

Mulu is Sarawak's only UNESCO site. It is also a geography student's dream, with caves that host the entire entourage of cave formations including cave curtains, columns, stalagmites, stalactites, helictites, and vegemites. And it's also home to the worlds biggest cave passage and at a humble 700m long, 400m wide, and 70m high, is large enough to swallow St. Peters Basilica (about the first time in this blog something has been correctly compared to this cathedral) or several Boeing 747's. Unfortunately I can't be any more specific than 'several' in this case because when I questioned the local guide as to how many exactly (hearing the comparison before) I received only a 10 minute speech on how planes can't actually land in the cave, and that you have to 'use your imagination', as a response. And by 10 minute speech I really mean he repeated the above phrase for 10 minutes. So although the local inhabitants outside the cave may not be overtly impressive, the inhabitants inside the cave definitely are: 3 million bats. So after exploring the nearby Lang's cave and its geological history-soaked formations it was "quick, to the bat cave!" Yes I actually did say this.

Inside Lang's Cave

The trip inside the mammoth Sarawak Chamber (hereby referred to as the Bat Cave to make up for a batman deprived childhood), feels like what I imagine a bacteria would feel like walking into WalMart. So big that the mist in the distance shrouds your view, and the flash from the camera makes nothing short of a pitiful attempt to photograph what has got to be the worlds biggest pile of Guano (or bat crap, as us more cultured individuals might refer to it as). Like being swallowed by the mouth of the Earth itself, and with an ever-trustworthy mercy that the earth won't close it's mouth behind you. As the sun descends and the evening arrives however, the best views are from outside the cave where this 3 million strong team of batpower emerge from the cave for their nightly hunt (you don't need insect repellent round here, these wee fella's eat them all). And as they do so they form strings of helixes which spiral, twist, and dance across the sky above. It is what a song would look like if it were to be bought to life. I called it the northern lights of the equator.

Hoping to fly into Mulu in the 19 seater twin-otter aircraft, our plane was actually upgraded to a larger one in order to accomodate those whose flight had been cancelled the day before due to 'too many bats in the sky'

Day two saw the mission continue with a ride/walk upriver (you'll see what I mean soon) to a couple more caves within the National Park, Clearwater cave and Wind cave. Amazingly named because of the clearness of the water and the wind which rushes through them respectively. This is almost as Original as the nearby Deer Cave which gained it's name from the Deer which used to live in it. Almost. So with river levels at a record low, it was still possible to get a longboat upriver but meant that every once in a while I had to get out and push. A bit like my car really.



Given its epic 125km journey beneath the earth, the cool water that emerges from underground at the mouth of Clearwater cave proved to be the perfect spot to go swimming with the water snakes. However trekking through the jungle in 38 degrees and 500% humidity (that last figure may be slightly 'inaccurate') meant that when I did find a place to swim it was almost impossible to remove the clothing that had adhered to my skin, which coupled with overenthusiastic movements posed a significant problem. But I eventually won the battle and the prize was bliss.



Pretty soon I began shivering and I was loving it. I had finally found something cold in this country, after being severely dissapointed by everything else from the ocean to a coke straight out of the fridge to the hospitality of the local people.


I wish I was here at Clearwater cave 2 months ago, as to be able to claim I've seen the longest cave passage in the world as well, but I'm too late. Just back in April a cave network in Vietnam stole the spotlight, but with exploration going on all the time it shows us that we really don't know it all, and ever more so when we believe that we do. And more profound is that we have no idea as to how much we don't know.

My trip into the caves (especially the Bat Cave) is one I'll never forget and so all the extras, like a trip to a local village where an old woman was jamming out on a nose flute, being chased by bees the size of a pingpong ball, and some rather entertaining locals, made it a permanent ornament on the mantle of my memory. It's the sort of place that simple photographs will never do justice and I feel like a cheat for trying, but hey here's a few anyway.

Mulu, Borneo

And cheers Deb for the sweet local hookups.

June 13 - Inland Borneo

Local village, inland Borneo

One thing that quickly becomes clear in a place like this is that you can't escape a market - even in the middle of nowhere you can guarantee that you'll find the opportunity to score yourself some fish, exotic fruit, and BBQ chicken bums on a stick. My favourite stall had to be one which advertised selling the following: bricks; cement; chickens. I mean that's everything you could ever need right under one (pseudo)roof. Genius! Being with Malaysians also meant that I had the unique and rare opportunity to not only head to markets us 'whities' never see, but also having the comments directed at me by market stall owners translated - a very entertaining experience.

For anyone who knows me well, you would know that I love bananas, need I say more. And so with this in mind when I browsed the 'banana markets' I was in my own little slice of heaven (and Garry you were definitely there in spirit as well). Malaysia boasts the world's greatest number of banana varieties, with 80% of them yet to be botanically identified. I can't think of a cheesy pun off the top of my head to slot in here so I'll just say it was sweet..

Bananas!

The next mission, thanks to a few local connections, was the chance to see a palm oil factory in action with a personal explanation of the whole process. So after checking out the restricted areas and how this fruit is converted into oil we headed through the workers villages to see the whole 360 degrees of the operation. Interesting stuff.

Heading further inland, in search of a rare variety of coconut available only in certain times of the year and in certain areas (ie those that are isolated enough to not be contaiminated by standard coconut palms), was a chance to see the real Malaysia. Markets selling food I didn't even know existed, longhouses so long they almost dissapear over the horizon, and one local bloke asking me into his house for some munitions-grade rice wine at 3 in the afternoon, all embedded colourful pieces into a vivid picture of the island. And although too late for the coconut, the timing was perfect for the sunset which accompanied us all the way back north along the coast.

Sunset over the beach

The culture class continued a couple of days later with a visit to a Sikh Temple, complete with the kit that conveniently combines the stylings of a guru, a bollywood movie star, and a teenage mutant ninja turle together in one sweet package. The hospitality I have witnessed in Malaysia is second to none, and this trip was no exception. Meeting the Sikh Priest was very insightful, as was the explanation he gave into all the different aspects of the temple, and coming from a catholic mass a couple of hours before was a feast for the mind.



Photos

East Malaysia, Borneo

You Know You're In Borneo When...

Well Ive successfully found a place that is as far from Sweden as possible, in every way possible: Borneo. To carry my point here's another list to start off where the last one left. You know you're in Borneo when...

Stop signs are "just used for shade"
A swim in the sea is the most unrefreshing thing one can do - is there anything even even remotely cold around here?
Dinner consists of rice, veges, and whole fish - and everyone's fighting over who gets the eyes
There's not a single Volvo insight. At all.
You're the only white guy on the entire plane
Insect repellent becomes permanently fastened to your hand
The most amazing beaches graced by the most amazing sunsets are amazingly amazing
The toilet seat stays closed to keep out unwanted guests, i.e. monitor lizards
You silently praise the bloke who invented air-con at least 3 times a day



The experience really began in the plane flying over the islands and oil rigs of Malaysia, when the bloke next to me (who had a grand total of 3 teeth and whose family occupied the entire back quarter of the plane) asked me if I was an all black. Being the only kiwi he had ever met I suppose I could see where he was coming from, but unfortunately I had to burst the poor old man's bubble - that I only play for the Canes.

Upon my first day of arrival, after being hit by a brick outhouse in the form of 35 degrees, and near-interrogated by airport staff concerned about swine flu, I put aside some severe sleep deprivation in favour of a swim in the sea. Hoping to be woken up slightly, the water temperature was likened to the last shower I'd had in Sweden and instead I was really just taking a bath in the world's biggest bath tub. So in other words it hardly worked to refresh me. I'm now at my new temporary home in Miri, East Malaysia, with a family for whom hospitality takes on a whole new level and am offered the chance to see a side of Malaysia that we are not always so lucky to see. Big ups to the Raj family, you guys are awesome.

You Know You're In Sweden When..

Well like a boy band my time in Sweden has come and gone, but not without leaving its mark. The last few days were a whole bunch of farewells, both to Sarah and to those Ive spent the semester with, and a night hiking through the woods to our uni cabin, all vitamised together into a soup of surreality. I won't say anything more here except thank you Sweden, for providing a canvas upon which to write one of the most dramatic chapters of my life.

Anyway, we all love a good list so to sum her all up here's a guide to clearly illustrate that you know you're in Sweden when..

There's wireless in the local cathedral
You're the only dude on the street without a blond slick-back
Everyone seems to pronounce English better than yourself
People go to a furniture store (Ikea) just to buy a hot dog, then leave
It gets so cold it doesn't snow
It gets so cold the part of your brain that registers that it's cold stops functioning, and instead resorts to hallucinating about food
Every second car is a Volvo
You have the time of you're life



Next stop, Malaysia..

9 June - A Night In The Woods

For our last night in Sweden, a bunch of us hiked into the woods to the uni owned cabin for the season finale. There was no electricity or running water, but the ample supply of firewood and hay to feed the local moose were all that were needed. As well as a few guitars and bits of food lovingly lugged through the bush.






And here's the last few straggler photos:

Sweden 3

June 5 - Gotland

Gotland receives more sun than any other part of Sweden and acts as a magnet for students and families as soon as the summer arrives in Scandinavia. Gotland was also where I was battered by torrential rain and wind that I hadn't experienced since crossing the Baltic sea in winter. So it had a bit of catching up to do, but it didn't take long.

So the 1 hour drive to the far south of the island, as well as the evening around the dinner table, was spent catching up on stories since the last time I had seen my favourite Swedes. Although a considerable chunk was spent on them convincing us that even though Gotland is 'unique' it's still actually part of mainland Sweden, turns out they get a bit of stick from their motherland. Just to give you an idea, while grad students in Stockholm go round in a bus, these guys go round celebrating on the back of a tractor. The next day was spent exploring the rocky coast of the southern tip of the island, checking out the family summer cottage in the woods behind the beach, and sampling some head-sized ice creams (turns out it pays to know people who work at little ice cream stands in the middle of nowhere, who knew..)

Windmill in the south

Then once the lamb was ready, which had been open roasted for the best part of five hours, the festivities began. Lonely planet will always tell you to head to festivals to get a good idea of the culture and on this humble island in the Baltic, it's no different. So as the locals and family gathered in around us we got a true glimpse of Sweden that to a non-Swede would always be hidden, and speaking with guests from the Swedish development agencies was a wicked way to encapsulate a semester spent studying exactly that. One thing unique to Gotland is a specially brewed drink which tasted like stale beer that's been soaked with smoked mutton. I honestly can't think of any other way of describing it without sounding offensive, but like anything unique, the capacity for appreciation is huge. There may well be a reason why nobody else anywhere on earth has taken it up but nonetheless the national brewing champs are aptly titled the world champs. And so I was stoked to get a photo together with the 2002 World Champions, a claim to fame I'll never forget and for more reasons than one hah.

In the presence of champions

The capital Visby is perched on the West side of the island, and is encased by a medieval city wall whose roll has evolved from keeping out invaders to keeping out time itself. Inside a sea of red tile roofed houses guard over a web of cobbled streets and alleys dropped over the hills. Admitabbly most most of the exploration undertaken was in fact just to find a place to eat but whatever the motive we got a wicked view of the city, culminating at the largest ice cream store in Sweden. Wth over 130 flavours it was a sweet spot to kill some time before getting on the ferry (conveniently parked just across the road), and I know you're excited now but wait till you hear the lineup.. With flavours like saffron, gingerbread, after eight, bubble gum, strawberry cheesecake, and harry potter its actually almost impossible to get a nice old vanilla or choc. Although no matter how many hundreds of flavours a single place can offer there's only one that I care about and that's goody goody gumdrops. And they didn't have it.

The streets of Visby looking up to the North gate

Big ups to Lotta, Casja, Staffan, Hannes, and mum and dad Berling. It was wicked to see you dudes and hang out in Gotland, and we'll see you all again soon (after some toehook training). People like you make me realise how lucky I am. And cheers Sarah for the sweet company..

Photos:

Pohangina, Stockholm, & Gotland

June 3 - Two Slices of Home

For my last week in Sweden I was blessed with the company of Sarah, who on her way to the States popped in to say g'day and check out the sights (in the rain). It's a crazy feeling when home from the other side of the world suddenly appears on your doorstep and in an instant two almost totally seperate lives (my life in Sweden and my life in NZ) combine like weetbix and milk poured into a bowl. And just like those weetbix and milk, it's a wickedly wholsome combination.


So first up was some local culture, our chlaustrophobic-lover's cathedral, Uppsala castle and its botanical gardens, and my corridor kitchen (thus touching on all definitions of culture). It was also a chance for my fellow European buddies to test their ability to understand the kiwi accent with Sarah, and after 5 months of practice with me they more than lived up to the challenge. With only a week in which to cram the entire Swedish experience however, we parted with Uppsala and headed south to the capital and onto the island of Gotland.

The last supper with some fellow students

The first mission in Stockholm was to the massively impressive Vasa museum, which houses the massively impressive 17th century warship the Vasa that's made even more impressive by the pirates of the Caribbean theme tune which is running as background music in your head. Well, at least in mine. Ironically it's the impressiveness which caused the ship to sink in the first place, on it's maiden voyage, due to the massive number of wooden carvings which adorned her making it top heavy. The thing never made it out of the harbour before it keeled over in a slight breeze and sinking to the ocean floor, only to be virtually forgotten about until the 60's. It was then salvaged and dry docked and as it was the biggest and most lavish warship of it's time, and the only one like it in the world, it was over the years painstakingly restored. In order to preserve it once lifted out of the water, it was sprayed with glycol for 17 years and dried for a further 9 years, however the level of sulphur still present in the wood creates 100kg of acid a year which could eventually destroy it completely. Best go check it out while its still around.


The streets of Stockholm never host a boring exploration, and even in the cold and rain, my 10th trip to the Swedish capital was no different. So the last few hours before having to catch the train to the ferry port town further south were spent wandering the cobbled streets of the old city, and chillaxing on the waterfront. Walking through the whopping 35 inch wide Marten Trotzigs alley reminded me of being born, only this time round you either can't stop, or be collected by the next wave of perceptually-obese people navigating the steps behind you. Then beyond the alleys and cobbled squares adorned by slanting buildings is the Royal Palace - home to Sweden's King and Queen and a rather amusing changing of the guard ceremony (at least so Sarah thought). Its easy to be fooled by the perceived calm in the photos, but on this day (and only on this day) the new grads shattered that ideal like the glass from a spent bottle (you'll see the relevance soon). We learnt that when you graduate from gymnasiet (college) its custom to kit out a gravel truck with a sound system, pack as many students in as possible, fill up the empty gaps with bottles of alcohol, and drive the streets of the city from sun up to sun down. The convoy can be heard a mile off and as we learnt the hard way, make sure you give yourself a good 2m between truck and self to avoid getting as saturated in beer as the students themselves. Sweet idea for a party. And the irony was that we were making our way to the island of Gotland to see some Swedish friends of mine, who had a brothers graduation party the night after we arrived. So really Stockholm was just an introduction..

Sarah and me in Gamla Stan (old town), Stocki

So the mission continued as we hauled ourselves through another 5 hours of traveling on our way to the island of Gotland to see my buddies Lotta, Cajsa, and Emilie, and the families and locals which make the island unlike any other.

(And in case you're wondering, the second slice of home is Gotland, where the abundance of hospitality, farmers, and sheep make it a mini NZ by itself).