Thank Goodness for Cultural Differences

There aren’t a lot of words to describe my 4-day free weekend simply because it was entirely out of this world.

In order to get to Abel Tasman National Park, named after the Dutchman who found NZ before Cook, my group (me, Lauren, Justin, Jesse, and Adam) had to fly from Hamilton to Wellington to Nelson. The airports were such cultural shocks; Hamilton’s airport is labeled as International, but it has only one gate, and you can take a picture of the whole interior of the airport in one shot. Nelson was similarly small, with Hamilton only slightly larger. The most surprising thing about domestic traveling in NZ is the lax security. There were no metal detectors or security checkpoints, and our passports were only inspected once. In one instance, I had my passport ready to show, only to be told that I didn’t need to show it at all. Back in America, not only would my passport have been checked more times than I could remember, but if I offered to show it, they’d be thrilled and take the opportunity to check one more time that I’m not a terrorist. Indeed, NZ has got it right when it comes to a friendly and laidback atmosphere in airports. TI was a very welcome difference. Understandably though, US is much larger with many more security threats.

Once we arrived at Marahau, just south of the Park, we took care of housing and lodging matters, and prepared for our two day kayak trip. Our guide for the first day, Tim, aside from being a kayak guide, is also a professional rugby player, for the Tasman Makos. Look him up. That first day, we kayaked up to Anchorage Bay. On our way, Adam and I spotted a New Zealand fur seal swimming around our kayak. It did a few turns around the back, coming up a few times for air before going to a little bay behind us. It was really cute. (We hoped to see as seal colony the next day on an island, but we passed by too quickly to notice) That night, we slept on a boat which we almost didn’t get back to sleep in. After dinner on the boat, we decided to go take a walk on the beach. Sean, the guy who took care of us, dropped us off and said he’d get us when it got dark. Back in the States, he would have told us the exact time and location of pickup. however, when it finally got dark, Sean and his boat were nowhere in sight. The tide began to rise quickly, stranding us on a more and more narrow strip of beach. Apparently, he had totally forgotten about us, and didn’t realize he had left us on the beach until he saw that there were too few people on the boat. New Zealanders are very laidback. Very.

Despite the fact that everybody we met were so relaxed, by the time we got home Monday, we were all pretty pooped out. Looking back on that trip, as I’m sure everybody else will agree, was amazing and fantastic and beautiful and new. The trip itself was a bit short, but being on water for almost 48 consecutive hours is a bit unnecessary. Regardless, I know one day I will go back. I have to!