My Housemate is Famous!

Anna would be terribly embarrassed if she were to find out that I'm posting this commercial on my blog. So don't tell her, plz. K thx.



She's famous!

Hostel Musings

Stenio, Stenio, Stenio....

Q: Who is Stenio?
A: Stenio is a Brasilian traveler (although I'm sure he'd prefer the title "surfer dude"), as well as the most recent addition to Noah's "Ban List."
Q: And what is the Noah's "Ban List"?
A: That would be the hostel's long, long list of delinquent hostel-goers, put on the list for things like stealing, rent evasion, belligerent drinking, or merely for being rude to my boss Simon.
Q: So why is Stenio on the list?
A: All of the above. He's what we call a "Class A Ban List-er".

I'll admit; I have a soft spot for Stenio. And since his banning, his attempts to sneak into the hostel have grown more and more comical. How could I not be somewhat amused? At first he pretended not to understand when I told him he was no longer allowed at Noah's:

Carlyn: Sorry, Stenio, for the 15th time, I can't check you in.
Stenio (imagine a Brasilian accent): But why no?
Carlyn: For the 15th time, you've been banned.
Stenio: I isn't understand. I have money. I pay.
(Stenio flicks his beautiful shoulder-length hair over his shoulder...I pretend not to notice).
Carlyn: Sorry.
Stenio: I will call cops. This is injustice!
(Stenio makes rude hand gestures and makes a diva-like exit through our automatic sliding doors)...

...Four minutes later I see a strange-looking man with a towel wrapped around his had and Mary-Kate and Ashley-style sunglasses. I mean, seriously. He's got to be kidding. He hasn't even done a proper job of disguising himself. Not only is he wearing exactly the same board shorts as before, but strands of blonde hair are sticking out from underneath his turban.

Carlyn: Stenio! I can see you.
Stenio: I have hate for this place!
(Stenio makes yet another rude hand gesture and makes yet another diva-like exit through the doors).

This will occur at least three or four times over the course of the next couple days. One time he'll even make it up onto our rooftop deck, at which point I'll catch him on the camera and stomp upstairs to kick him out. He'll give me that innocent look and tell me he "isn't understand" again. False. He understands perfectly well. And for some reason unbeknownst to me, he likes to sneak into Noah's on a daily basis these days.

Ah, there are some very interesting people in this world, and I'd like to think that about half of them have already walked through Noah's hostel doors (and the other half soon will...). This hostel seems to attract some crazies. Lucky for them, I'm easily amused....

What's in Your Wok?

For almost 3 years now I've been entirely Thai-averse--that is, I've refused  to put any sort of Thai curry, noodle, or stir-fry in my mouth. Tragic, I know, but after a certain event (known to those close to me as "That Day Carlyn Got Car Sick"...), I've done my best to stay away from all things coconut and pad thai--and anything that might remind me of these things.

Consequently, it might come as a surprise that I chose to dine at an establishment known as "Thai on Wok" last night. Ha. Yeah, me too. But as I strolled by last night during a quest for food, I was struck by a) the delicious aroma, and b) the large crowds that seemed to be very much enjoying their giant platefuls of food. So I took the risk and went for it.

Omg so yummy. Brian ordered the tangy lemongrass chicken, while I opted for the ginormous portion of pork-fried rice. For only $10 each, the price was well worth it. Not only did I leave with a very sizable doggy bag, but with a take-away menu comprised of over 50 stir-fry and curry combinations...I've been cured, folks! I will most definitely be taking a walk on over to "Wok" sometime in the nearby future. And yes, that pun was obviously intended.

Hostel Musings

Laurence, a long-term guest from the UK, and his friend Johan just asked me: "Carlyn, would you, for the LAST time...pleeeaseee put some hot girls in our room?" Ah, to be a receptionist at a hostel in Bondi. It didn't take me very long to learn the majority of male backpackers frequent hostels with hopes of meeting their dream girl (or at least a one-night Aussie hook-up). My question is, however: Why is it that all the guys ask me to place "hot girls" in their rooms, but none of the girls request "hot guys" and instead flock to all-female dorms?

Boost Mobile SurfSho

 For the first time in over 20 years, Bondi Beach is currently in the midst of hosting a world-class international surf competition. Attended by greats such as Kelly Slater (USA...woot, woot!), the competition started today and will continue on through Sunday.

 (oh hey there, Kelly Slater...)

Granted, I have work, but the competition is free to spectators and luckily my front desk looks right out over the beach. I'll definitely be stopping by tomorrow/Sunday morning: http://www.boostsurfsho.com.au/home

Up in the Air

The sport of paragliding, I've realized, is a true hobby. Particularly in New Zealand, there's a whole motley group of characters who reunite atop the same high hills and mountains each day to float off and enjoy the scenery.

Brian and I were lucky enough to join this group for one day up in Nelson, a cute little town up in the northern part of the South Island. While most people opt for adventureland Queenstown, we opted for Tony and his tandem paragliding "company" up north...Greatest decision ever.

Within hours of our arrival in Nelson, Brian and I found ourselves strapped to two harnesses, which were in turn strapped tight to ropes attached to a rectangular-shaped parachute. Tony (I flew with Tony, Brian flew with Tony's partner) looked over to me and asked me if I was nervous. Of course, I hadn't really thought about it, but as we approached the edge of the mountain, I experienced a bit of anxiety. Um yeah, it was high.

"1,2,3...RUN," Tony screamed.

We both started running (see pictures below...it kind of looks as though we're spooning in an upright position), and eventually the parachute inflated and lifted us right off the ground. Tony yelled to keep running, which I did, though I felt a bit silly, as my feet were no longer touching grass. I felt as though I was riding a unicycle, except for the fact that I had neither a) a unicycle, nor b) ground to ride one on.

Tony and I were up in the air for about 30 minutes, catching what he calls "thermals" and riding the hot air streams higher and higher up into the sky over the Abel Tasman Bay. Beautiful.

Pictures below:

all geared up

Tony harnessing me in

"1,2,3...RUN!"

up, up, up, and away

up in the air (note: brian's taking all these pictures)

a beautiful view

bird's eye view from brian's paraglider (his bball shoes and some forest)

me again

Ice Climbing on Franz Josef Glacier

After a 5.5 hour drive traversing New Zealand's South Island from Christchurch to glacier country in our cheaply rented Sunny Nissan, Brian and I arrived safe and sound in the town of Franz Josef. Really not much to this sleepy little town, but it's located right next to the glacier--hence the name--which makes for some excellent scenery.

Next morning we woke up bright and early and walked three minutes to the Franz Josef Glacier Guides station, where we were geared up for ice climbing with ice picks, crampons, helmets, fleece hats, wool gloves, hiking packs, Gortex coats and pants. I felt pretty much invincible, despite the fact that only the night before I'd experienced a mini wave of anxiety (I mean, I don't have upper body strength...how could anyone expect me to haul ass up a gigantic wall of ice...). It's funny how a little gadget or item of adventure wear can make you feel all the more experienced--like when you go to REI (best store ever) and surround yourself with camping knives and inflatable rafts and all of a sudden you feel like Survivor[wo]man. Granted, my biceps were still non-existent, but with crampons on my feet and ice-picks in hand, I felt as though Franz Josef Glacier had nothing on me. Ha.

Shortly, Brian and I found ourselves on a little bus with approximately seven other ice climbers: a Texan named Lisa, a guy from Sydney, a couple from Wellington, and a group of three somewhat off-the-rocker, dreadlocked Spaniards who none of us could understand. After ten minutes, we arrived at the glacier:

 

the walk from the bus to the foot of the glacier

the view of the glacier from the rainforest. looks much closer than it appears. in reality, the foot of the glacier is about 2 km away. 

  

walking past the waterfall

 

brian getting outfitted/final checked before heading up

 

ice climbing wall

 

brian about to begin his first climb

brian reaches the top!

 

me = taking control of that ice pick

 

carlyn vs. large wall of ice

  

me climbing up one of the harder climbs...yessss

dramatic pic of brian

 

going on a little hike in between climbs

 

cool little blue cave we found

 

in the cave

 

headed back down

 

view from the top

 

back at the bottom, safe and sound :)

The Most Expensive Apple Ever

For Eve, it was the apple. For me, it was the apple. Until yesterday I’d never thought twice about Eve and her delicious, red fruit. In fact, I’d always thought it was quite cool that Eve had been complex enough to be persuaded by some sort of inner temptation. While Adam kind of just frolicked nakedly around Eden, Eve was all “Hey, that fruit looks delicious. I want it because it’s clearly the best.“ Some might call that greedy and naïve, but I prefer “rebellious” and “determined.”

 Now, however, I’ve been forced to rethink the whole Adam and Eve story.  Why, why, why did she need to take the apple?! Since it was Eve who first took a bite of that sinful apple back in the day, subsequently dooming all of mankind (particularly those of the femle sex), I blame her. Yeah, that’s right; if it hadn’t been for Eve, I would never have been caught by New Zealand’s Biosecurity Customs for “apple smuggling” (my term, not theirs).  She cursed all apples. There’s just no other explanation.

I’ll start at the beginning:

I like apples. So do most people. They’re a good fruit--crunchy, sweet, refreshing. So it’s no surprise that I bought a few apples last week to snack on while working reception (instead of biting the head off an annoying customer, I bite into my apple instead….not quite as satisfying, but it does the trick/doesn‘t get me in trouble).

Fast forward a few days. I walked off the plane in Christchurch, NZ, only to see many signs advertising New Zealand’s strict biosecurity measures. No fruit. No produce at all. No dirt. No wood. Nothing fresh that might have fruit flies or any sort of biological threat to New Zealand’s beautiful country. Totally understandable, but I of course thought nothing of it. Who travels abroad with fresh produce anyway?

Well, clearly I do because as my bag was getting scanned, a little red apple popped up on the screen. Oh SHIT, I thought to myself. I left one of those snacking apples in my bag. You would have thought I had a bomb in there or something, as I was quickly pulled aside and escorted to the “Biosecurity Questioning Room.” Granted, there wasn’t much questioning to do, but they did issue me a $200 fine for “attempting to bring in fresh produce, namely one apple” into New Zealand. Blargh.

At first I was outraged--practically on the verge of tears--that is, until I realized that 200 NZD is less than $150 USD. Plus, I began to feel terrible for having potentially put beautiful New Zealand at risk. A bit stupid of me, I’ll admit. In retrospect, I realize the fine was perhaps very much deserved (although they could’ve just taken my apple and called it a day! Ugh!).

Moreover, just as they finally finished processing my fine, another young American woman was brought over. The officer escorting her carried a Red Delicious apple in his hand. I looked at her somberly and asked, “An apple?” She nodded yes. I pointed to a few feet away where my lonely Royal Gala sat atop a Customs desk, looking ever so lonely. “Me too.” We looked at each other sympathetically, and then she somewhat dramatically looked up towards the sky in frustration (a $200 fine can do that to you). In retrospect, I assume she was cursing Eve as well--metaphorically shaking her first, if you will.

The worst thing, though, is that I never had the chance to enjoy my apple. I suppose such is life.