One day, you tell people via mail that you update the blog tomorrow, and then you discover that the library is closed sundays. And then you meet some friends from kiwi-picking times. And then they take you along to the next national park, where you spend two days away from civilisation. And then your next hostels don't have internet. And next you know it, a whole month has passed. Time feels weird here.
tl;dr: Write in the comments when you saw your own blood for the last time. Incidentally, I am alive and well.
\paragraph{29.07.12}
Generally speaking, the world is my oyster. Gymnasium and three years of University made me a member of the top 5% (own estimate). Whatever I'll do, there is just no way I won't land on my feet. There's jobs everywhere for our kind. Some say that that's a New Zealand thing, and in Germany the situation is harder. But I got jobs at the youth club 'kamp' and the tele-market-research company, which earned me plenty to survive. I envied the rich and the famous, for Europe seemed their playground. Then I travelled around the world on a student's budget and realised how fortunate I am, that the whole world can be my playground. Just a thought. Today I watched 'Ai Weiwei - never sorry', a documentary by and about Ai Weiwei, a chinese anti-government artist who (amongst other things) made photos of his middle fingers pointing at various government buildings around the world, and a video installation with various chinese people, stating in their native dialect: 'fuck you motherland'. A very interesting insight into the mind of an artist. I also watched 'from up on poppy hill', an anime film about a student romance. Beautiful visuals, though I prefer stories that delve into the fantastic. In the evening, I went to a get-together at the Civic Wintergarden with the artist of 'inhale-exhale' who made a photo and video installation showing a woman underwater with fish, ink and lighting. He lived all around the world but only recently got his foot into the bigger doors. Unfortunately, there was no time to delve further into his history. A great experience talking to a crazyhead with smooth jazz in the background and other moviegoers around.
\paragraph{30.07.12}
Today's movies: 'marina abramovic: the artist is present', a portrait about the first performance artist to get an exhibition of the same name in the moma. The artist was present, indeed. For three months, she was in the museum six days a week, twelve hours a day. She sat on a chair and visitors could sit in the chair opposing her. She didn't speak, she merely looked at them. Very intense, even channeled through a movie. I also watched 'on the road', an interpretation of Kerouac's famous novel. The movie got to me, because I, too, am 'on the road' for quite a while now. Though my lifestyle still differs from the ones pictured. Makes one think about the 'why'. On a lighter note, Kirsten Steward showed that she has more than one facial expression.
\paragraph{31.07.12}
Today, I watched 'bert stern: original madman', a portrait about the photographer. He tried to live fast and die young, but failed on the latter. Not as impressive as Marina Abramovic, but still a decent movie, one I can take ideas for my own life from.
\paragraph{01.08.12}
Today: 'animation now 2012', short animated films, some of them very funny. Especially hilarious is 'mulvar is correct candidate'. I also see 'abiogenesis', which preceeded 'sound of my voice' some days earlier and which I couldn't see then. At the hostel, Frank and I discuss movies. Turns out he is not too bad when sober. Later that day I watch 'the king of pigs', a south korean animation (or anime? no idea), a story about bullying and violence in a (south korean) school. Makes me think. Even the laughs of the audience make me think, because it's at moments I whouldn't think about laughing. Definetly a movie the film club should watch.
\paragraph{02.08.12}
'a monster in paris': Animation about a monster in Paris (duh). Fun and with wonderful songs, but ultimately predictable. A kid's movie [not a judgement, I like kid's movies]. 'pink ribbons inc.': A documentary about the evil breast cancer awareness companies fundraising money from gullible people. A movie with almost no numbers. They showed the companies emotional approach towards their targets (i.e. donators) but they make their point by emotional means, too. Still, the movie as a whole was a remarkable example of how stupid masses can be controlled by both sides of a medal. Some scenes of the awareness movement reminded me of religious methods. If you are experiencing trouble focussing while you watch this, try to guess at what point I loudly stated, for the audience to hear: 'testify!'. Third movie of the day: 'vulgaria'. If Quentin Tarantino was chinese, this whould have been his early work. Over the top, but awesome. Including the soundtrack. I possibly had the best experience because I sat in the first row and the speakers were a bit loud. Very funny was the fact that I arrived a bit late at the cinema, and there was still a long line outside. I wasn't sure if it was my line, so I went to the entry to ask. The girl who came towards me saw the ticket in my hands and told me to walk right through. I was the first one in the theater
[note: gets half of my 'best movie I have seen on the festival'-award].
\paragraph{03.08.12}
'compliance': Based on a true telephone prank (multiples, actually). A police officer calls a fast food restaurant and asks the manager to take a young female employee in the back room and conduct a strip search due to a theft filed by a customer. Every piece of information needed is given away by the manager herself. A brilliant study on gullability and the assumed authority and good intent of 'an officer of the law'. 'no': If you liked 'wag the dog', this is your movie. The mind behind the 'no' tv ad campaign for the poll about keeping the chilean dictator Pinochet. Which, naturally, is torpeded by the dictator's 'yes' campaigners.
\paragraph{04.08.12}
'holy motors': The official program states that the movie stays 'conspicuously unrewarded' at Cannes. So, getting no rewards is a good thing, then? Yes, it is. This movie made my mind boggle. We follow Mr Oscar, who is driven around Paris in a stretch limo with all sorts of masquerade material. He has various 'appointments' to do. What exactly is his job? Who are his customers, his financiers? I came up with dozens of possible explanations and backstories while watching, only to be prooven wrong with the next appointment. The advertised song by Madonna is ill-placed and doesn't really serve the movie. The two other musicial pieces, however, were great. See it, and don't look it up beforehand! This is what I meant by 'What' is important, not 'Why' [other half of my best movie award].
\paragraph{05.08.12}
'how to meet girls from a distance': A New Zealand made movie, its world premiere, in fact. In the first half, I was on the brink of walking out of the cinema. The only one preventing me from doing so was the comic relief character. Is there an english word for 'fremdschaemen'? The second half, however, was better. The official aesop about love can be thrown out of the window, and replaced by my favourite character's own one about honesty. Even though our main guy doesn't really get it. This movie shows the awkward side of the Barney Stinson livestyle, the side that should be considered before one becomes a life liar. 'whore's glory': Documentary about prostitution in Malaysia, India and Mexico. Quite shallow on information, but merely the try to squeeze a feel out of me. Fazit of the festival: 23 movies watched, more I didn't watch, several I wanted to watch (the ambassador, the angels share, bernie, bully, the cabin in the woods(y i didn't watch this?!), caesar must die, crazy horse, farewell my queen, le tableau, the minister, neighbouring sounds, reality (might have matched 'no'), room 237 an inquiry into the shining in 9 parts, side by side, the taste of money, and various short film copilations). An interesting experience with movies and whole genres I haven't even heared about before. Some day I might calculate how much money I spent on the festival. Also, and I cite: 'what is the most resilient parasite? A bacteria, A virus? An intestinal worm? An idea! Resilient, highly contagious. Once an idea has taken hold of the brain, it's almost impossible to erradicate. An idea that is fully formed, fully understood, that sticks.' with the ideas of libertarianism, voluntarism, anarchism, capitalism in your brain, you can watch most of your favourite movies for a 'second first time', and some are completely different movies.
\paragraph{06.08.12}
Today I went to the doctor for my third hepatitis vaccination, the first two of which I took prior to my departure. Also, I had a lump in my throat for some days, like a cold but without the feeling of weakness. Just a minor inflammation, comes and goes. The vaccination is fast, no need for me to get it from the pharmacy, everything is fast, with short waiting periods. Propably because I have to pay it myself and reclaim the sum from my insurance. I also met Janis, a german guy who arrived just some days ago. I show him around in the city and tell him that I plan to get to Taupo tomorrow. He spontaneously decides to join me. We go to the Britomart transport center and book a bus.
\paragraph{07.08.12}
Getting up early and driving to Taupo. Getting to the Rainbow Lodge and booking three nights. Getting to the lake and trying to go to a small mountain, but it starts to rain, so we head back to the hostel.
\paragraph{08.08.12}
We start early on the walking track to the Haka Falls and beyond, to the dam, which opens at 2pm. We skip several interesting looking spots for the way back to be at the dam on time, but we're late anyway. It's 16 o'clock so we decide to hitchhike back. We get a ride quick and he says he'll put the sign we made from a Dunkin' Donut check from two days ago into his diary.
\paragraph{09.08.12}
I walk along the small pier at the lake and meet the owners of a sailing yacht which is about 80 years old and once belonged to Errol Flynn. They tell me that they make trips to the maori head carvings that are only visible from the water. I get my travel mate from the hostel and off we go. During the trip, the owner tells us that the yacht was once sailing around the world, was sold to his father in New Zealand from Fiji and was transported to the lake by truck about 30 years ago. At the carvings, he tells us that they are not genuine maori carvings, but the work of a pair of artists some years back.
Still looks impressive.
\paragraph{10.08.12}
I book three more nights, but my travel mate leaves to Northland because he got a call confirming a wwhoofing place there ['wwhoof', willing workers helping on organic farms]. I don't do much due to the rain.
\paragraph{11.08.12}
I want to walk to one of the smaller mountains around, but after quite a while of walking, I am still in a suburb and the mountain looks as far as ever. I ask around and am informed that it's about 15 kilometers away, and it takes hours to get up. I decide to take some other path through the suburb back. It looks like I imagine America to look like. Endless roads, broad enough for a strip of green between street and sidewalk, and endless hedges and fences behind which you can see house after house. It's a pre-9/11 America, people are friendly (then again, NZ is place 2 in obesity and has the highest rate of kfc per person).
\paragraph{12.08.12}
Today I read 'Atlas Shrugged' all day. The story got me. I begin the day at the point where they find the motor remains and end at the point where America is transformed into a People's State. Interesting, Ayn Rand uses Phlebtonium AND a MacGuffin. And I can't shake the feeling that the Phlebtonium will be necessarry to make the MacGuffin work. The guy in the mirror looks more awesome than ever [whereever that came from].
\paragraph{13.08.12}
I walk to the falls and encounter a small side stream entering the river in a small, murky waterfall. I want to know what is on the other side and after a bit of hesitation, I jump. I grab any brush I can find on the other side, then sharply realise there are thorns as two sting me in my left hand, one quite deep. I pull them out, and think about the last time I saw my own blood. I couldn't recall. Behind the falls, there are the 'craters of the moon', a sulphur field and my destination for today. There is a park around them with bike and horse treks. I walk along them, going left, going right. When I come along a map, I see that the shortest way back to the falls and the town is blocked due to logging work. I plan a route along several biking tracks, but get off track and make a part of my route through small, replanted needle trees. It's difficult to move along because of the thick underbrush. In the hostel, I met Felix again, who is travelling with his kindergarden friend Phillip, who is visitin him for three weeks. They agree to take me to Turangi, a town at the south end of Lake Taupo and north of the Tongariro National Park.
\paragraph{14.08.12}
Update from 21.08. Felix and Phillip give me a lift to Turangi, where I ask for the hike opportunities. As I knew, the great 'Tongariro Crossing' that every backpacker knows and that leads to the volcanic crater of 'Mt Doom' is closed due to the eruption some days ago. They tell me to see the scenic walk of the river instead, right next to town. Without alternatives, I agree and go to the cheapest bbh hostel, the 'Aplus Lodge'. It seems a bit like a hippie commune, with painted fences and several buildings connected by selfmade roof sections. It's nice. The people themselves make me think of the most stereotypic hillbillies ever, but once I get to understand the accents, they turn out quite nice. The hostel clerk asks me for my plans and I tell him about the river walk. He is shocked, for that is one boring plan. He pulls out a map of the national park and tells me about lower walks around and in between the peaks, which are still open. I choose a two day trip from east to west, between two of the peaks. He allows me to store some of my stuff at the hostel so my backpack is lighter and drops me off at the desert road, which I leave to the right into the desert which is freckled with low shrubs. After a while, I cross a forest, several small streams, then back through badland again. At the evening, I reach the hut, bigger than I expected. From my notes in the hut:
'' time flies when you're having fun'. And it does. This morning, I woke up for the seventh time in the 'Rainbow Lodge' in Taupo. Now, in the evening, I'm in the 'Waihohonu hut' in the Tongariro National Park, and propably alone for kilometers. Felix, whom I met yesterday (seems years ago), and his visiting friend Philipp, took me to Turangi, then drove on to Wellington to go sightseeing. The famous Tongariro Crossing, which takes you to the sight of 'Mt Doom', is closed due to the eruption just a week ago. I asked at the iSite for other tracks, but they all start some driving time away. Shuttle is expensive and needs a minimum of two people. They tell me that the river walkway along the city whould be nice, too. I go to the bbh hostel, which seems empty except for some painfully stereotypical hillbillies. The guy running the hostel laughs at my plan to see the river and shows me several possible walks, unsing the huts to spend the nights. I decide on a walk and he starts a checklist. He offers me a used gas cartridge, lends me one of his pots, lets me store some of my stuff (and the backpack goes on my back again) and even brings me to the start of the track in his car. I leave the road and walk a path only marked by posts with orange arrows. It's rainy, and the way goes through some shallow streams (or the water flows through the deeper parts of the walkway). The way goes through low bushes, forest, then bushes again. After some time, the sign 'you are now entering Tongariro National Park'. I walk on. The 'hut' is bigger than the expected log cabin, and it's mine. I heat the chimney and make rice with baked beans. DJ was right, after hours of walking, with a stunning view and noone around, that meal tastes better than anything I could remember. It's getting dark outside. I write in the light of the chimney and two candles. Good night. After what feels like an eternety, I get up from the cold to take a piss. Too cloudy to see stars. My mobile says it's nine pm. Guess that happens when you have no electric light and go to sleep at sundown. So, I reheat the cimney and build myself a matrass fortress against the cold. I'm far from it, but I think I have the faintest idea what DJ was talking about when describing his feeling of hopelessness and defeat when he was out of chocolate. Earlier in the hut, I ate the lollypop the last hostel manager gave me as a fare-well gift. Now, I am searching the table for its remains. I didn't bring 'Atlas Shrugged' because of the weight; now that I miss it I know I have made the right choice. It may be preferable to generic pop music, but it's still a distraction. To get the most of this experience, I have to feed my senses, and thus my mind, with reality only.'
\paragraph{15.08.12}
It is one cold morning. My matrass fortress couldn't fend off the cold. I walk around the room while my rice boils. After I pack, I leave for some springs, twenty minutes off the route. The way leads me through fantastic landscape with red stone and shrubs. The springs themselves are basically a pond of clear turquis water from which the stream emerges, one side enclosed by forest, the other by the red shrubby desert. Back on track, I head for the village. The way is only marked by wooden poles every other meter, no track, nothing. I am alone for kilometers. When the ground is too muddy or a stream too wide, there are planks and small bridges, but mostly I have to watch my step and climb over stones in the riverbeds. Either the way has been built in riverbeds or the water flows down the trampled down paths. With the bad weather and on-off rain, there is a small flow of water on some of the ways. The view, though, is magnificent. Despite the clouds, I can see the snow at the lower hangs of the south mountain, and later, as it clears, I can see clouds streaming over the top of the northern peak. It's a great feeling to see no other human, no human structures, nothing. I could be a time traveller thrown back into the past, or a survivor after some catastrophy. With the only animals around being small birds, I have to think of the book 'Jurassic Park' I found at the hostel in Taupo, and almost anticipate a pack of raptors jumping down the next hill. Somewhere, not even distinct enough a place to be the middle of nowhere, I scream 'I am significant' towards a small river and the hill I just came down from. Like Calvin (from Calvin and Hobbes), I might as well add 'screamed the dust speck'. The half mark of todays way is a signpost. Three hours to the hut the way I came, two and a half the way to the village, and ten minutes to a lake. I meet people there, we greet and I go to the lake. Quite far away, but a stunning view nontheless. Back at the signpost, I have a can of beans before I head on. This part is more crowded, I meet some groups on my way, from the village, on day trips to the lakes. I see more rivers, two huge waterfalls and another, huge chunk of forest at the last part of the walk. From the village, I hitchhike back to Turangi and surprise the hostel clerk with my early appearance. Before, I planned to stay in another hut for another day, but I am exhausted. I get to sleep at once.
\paragraph{16.08.12}
I sleep till noon and don't do much the day. I try to read Ayn Rand, but immediately after the dose of reality I had, even this seems shallow and uninteresting. Turns out, even my my mind is saturated from time to time. If I keep feeding it, it will keep hungry in the long run.
\paragraph{17.08.12}
Another lazy day at the hostel. I make plans to go to Wanganui at the coast, to get picked up by Felix and Phillip for our trip to the Forgotten world Highway. The next bus leaves the next day. I book and find a frying joint where I try a fried mars bar. Delicious and molten.
\paragraph{18.08.12}
I take the bus to Wanganui, check in for two days, borrow a cycle and drive around a bit. I discover the library, which has free internet. I return with my netbook, but since it is saturday, they open shortly after I set up.
\paragraph{19.08.12}
Turns out, the library is closed on sunday, something I am not used to anymore, because here, everything is open at any day. Instead, I take the bike to a tunnel and elevator through a section of mountain, up to a viewpoint tower. It looks interesting, circular with three stone beams at the side. It's built from this sponge-esque volcanic stone and has a metal cage on top so noone falls out, which looks like a huge drop of water. The weather is not too bad, the view is still great. Back at the hostel, guess who comes in the front door, Felix and Phillip.
\paragraph{20.08.12}
We pack our things and leave Wanganui for Stratford at Mt Egmond. We find the only bbh hostel to be in what seems to be a run-down military barracks, but it has a nice horror-movie charm, which inspires Felix and me to think of what might happen to us here. When one of the other residents, a Maori, starts making remarks about how german chainsaws are the best and if we knew this famous nazi-doctor, we are delighted. In town, we shop for ingredients and make steamed pasta. Quite delicious, succulent and sufficient to say the least.
That's it so far. I got some music from a fellow backpacker, some of it it matches my situation perfectly:
'himmelblau' by die Aerzte
'Abschiedslied' by Farin Urlaub
'am Strand' by Farin Urlaub
