The Other Side of the World

Every evening, when the hard, hot sun has slipped over the edge of the land mass that is the North Island, I slide out the front of the house (the entire wall facing the street is left yawning wide all day). I choose the direction the cool wind is blowing and I walk. Not because I love to walk in the evening (which I do) but because I feel the need to stretch my context – my understanding of where I stand – into large quantities of heavy concrete sidewalks, acres of shaded yards and masses of stiffly held lavender clumps. I face outward and look up, arranging in my mind the subtle shiftings of the enormous streaks of white cloud as the sun sets. The insistent caress of the constant breeze marks it rhythm into me. The rich throaty chorus of insects subterfuging the grass swathes and holds me. There are differences between walking where you are home, and walking where you are merely trying to gently grope for a marker, where you are merely trying, at the bottom and end of the earth, to find your place.

Because I have to run and catch a bus, not because it’s easy . . .

People go barefoot *everywhere* – the bank, the supermarket

There are willow trees, evergreen trees and palm trees all growing along side each other

Yogurt is runny and comes in jugs or cartons

There is almost always a distinctive sea breeze, even though the actual sea is nowhere to be seen (and as a result my hair is wavier than it has ever been)

The sun is burning hot because we’re under a hole in the ozone layer

The City Library is brand new and amazing. I want to move in. Also they sell parsnip cake there. Must try this soon . . .

There are no pennies here, so everything gets rounded.

Some things sound British (tea is dinner). Some sound Maori (Kumaras are sweet potatoes) and some things are just . . . (‘cool’ stands in for ‘you’re welcome’)

And lastly, I promise, as soon as I have the internet at home I’ll write something properly intelligent. I think internet cafes sap my brain.

Apart from the fact that there’s nowhere to put all the books and they’re stacked haphazardly around the room, I think it turned out quite nicely.

Enh, who am I kidding? The books always end up on the floor anyway. More accessible.
And yes, the big basket is full of wool. I am cool beyond reason . . . Of course, I would be slightly cooler if the suitcase that had all my posters/pictures etc showed up. Patience is such an art, no?

As promised . . . photos of the park-forest-university


Inside the student center


One of the residences
A little native shrubbery

Yes, Jess – there are horses

And Jess, there are also cows. . . . . *on campus* . . . .

Try not to be too jealous – those of you stuck in scary concrete academic contraptions . . .

Which is of course, the Maori name for New Zealand. Meaning ‘land of the big white cloud’ – and I must say, very aptly named (I have refrained, however, from taking reams of cloud pictures).

A side street facing one of the two mountain ranges that surround the town. I mean, hills. I have been unequivocally informed they are not tall enough to be mountains.
My sweet little house
The noteworthy bamboo growing on the north side
And of course, a reference to my first post (really I just wanted to show everyone my underwear).

Must run now, bed being delivered shortly . . . .

By rigourous Taiwanese foot massage that is. I was almost in tears, but it was decidedly that “good kind of pain”. Although, in retrospect, perhaps I should have just gotten my brother to kick my feet for 40 minutes instead?

Entrnace to the night market- a Taiwanese tradition
Food stalls serving dinner at a frenzied pace
a ‘pancake’ batter being stirred with a paddle attached to a drill
vegetable filled dumplings cooked on a grill
assorted cooked snails
roasted duck heads
In Taipei, young couples almost never cook dinner at home.
Traditional Taiwanese hot pot with enoki mushrooms, green onion, cabbage, intestines, duck blood and fermented bean curd (so fermented its rotten smell permeates most of the market) in a spicy broth. Counter intuitively delicious!
a piece of someone’s intestine goes to meet mine . . .
millet, tapioca balls (think: bubble tea), and coconut jelly covered in shaved ice with passionfruit syrup on top

Finally after 4 days, 7 takeoffs, 7 landings and 3 continents (note to self for future: direct flights are key).
I was so tired, I arrived, took this photo out of the bathroom window at the hostel, and went to bed for 18 hours. It’s currently 24 degrees and sunny with a nice breeze. Ahhh . . . .

Taipei from the observatory at 101 (world’s tallest building)
I’m off to Thailand for the night! More to come . . .

Because no-one actually wanted to see the hair, right?