When you’re trying not to eat constantly where can you go in Madrid to escape?   La Caja Magica, home of the Madrid Open 2010. It’s a tennis tournament for those who still don’t know what’s going on.  The preview to the French Open, the Madrid Open draws the big stars hoping to perfect their clay court strategy before heading to Roland Garros.  Amy made the mistake of telling me about the tournament and agreeing to join me even though she hasn’t quite figured out how the game is scored.  Thankfully the venue had enough to entertain her while I enjoyed a few tennis matches.

As Amy stared into Roger’s eyes wondering if he’s like to take a stroll through the Retiro with her, I enjoyed watching Spaniard David Ferrer win his match.  Spanish pride had the place rumbling from the quick yells of “Vamos David!” in between points.  Despite the extreme regional pride that you’ll see in Spain, when it’s a Spaniard against the world, that’s all that matters.

During the match, I started contemplating how the countries I visited exhibited patriotism.  Spanish pride being what it is, it still doesn’t compare to what I saw in New Zealand where I found Kiwis beaming every time you complimented their country.  Of all the places I’ve been, I’ve seen no country more proud of it’s land, culture, and experiences.  Kiwis gush and drool about the riches their country has to offer.  So much so that traveling any other way than camper van or as a backpacker just doesn’t compute.  Getting any further away from nature seems to a Kiwi like a horrible waste of an opportunity not to mention money. They’re also extraordinarily willing to help travelers experience the best their country has to offer.   I had been interested yet indifferent to New Zealand’s nature before I visited.  After all, how great could their outdoors be?  Kiwi enthusiasm and dedication to making sure I had a good time resulting with my city-hardened heart melting. Suddenly, I, like CQ, was also staring at sunsets as if for the very first time.

So although I’m super happy, glad and comfortable to be back in Spain, I’m fondly remembering New Zealand even though I can still hear the laughs from every Kiwi upon learning I’ve never spent the night in a tent.

Let’s just skip over the Switzerland that I didn’t see. Cold and rainy Geneva along with 12 hour days filled with “Je ne parle francais” was enough for me to make a few resolutions: 1) take those French classes I always wanted and 2) not to miss my EasyJet flight to Madrid. Iceland’s erupting volcano attempted to delay my entry into Spain, but I got there just in time. My friend Amy was waiting for me having arrived at our Madrid hotel earlier that day. A week in Spain exploring wine country, Spanish art, and of course food. Lots and lots of food. (This will turn out to be a little too much enthusiasm, but you only live once.)

I love Spain. The way of life. The freshness of the food. The oh-so-exacting nature of the language. The Spanish don’t easily offer up information. They answer a question with just the information required. Ask the wrong question – that’s your fault. But ask the right one – be prepared for an onslaught of opinion and conjecture. How are you supposed to tell the difference? Well you can’t. It’s all about nuance and intuition. You have to figure out or really feel the Spanish language to know which words to use when. I suppose it’s probably the same for most languages. When you do, you’ll have a marvelous time. So what if you don’t know Spanish? Learn some. Seriously it’s not hard to learn basic words in any language. Hello. Goodbye. Thank you. Please.

I’ve been amazed in my travels by tourists unwillingness to show courtesy to their non-English speaking host country by picking up some basic phrases. A little learning will go a long way. Especially once you realize that Spanish maps don’t actually tell you how to get anywhere. Also, a week with a bunch of four language speaking Swiss is enough to make you vow to kick them off their smug high horses. So far, I have two down, two to go. I’m already looking forward to picking a fight in French.

Switzerland wasn’t high on my list of countries I needed to visit, but in my planning my time I figured I should do at least one thing semi-work related.  A little googling and I found the Lift Conference in Geneva.  I traded my time for entrance to the conference and a free place to stay.  Seemed like a fair trade. I have proof I was there. These are the volunteers as we were saluted at the conference close. (Far right, near the mobile).

Now I have nothing against Lift10 and it’s mission.  Enabling the discussion about the use of technology in society is a worthy endeavor.  But my 3 days volunteering made me accept one thing:  I don’t like conferences.  Perhaps my expectations are too high.  The workshops and talks with the best titles turned out to be disappointing. Where exactly does this “networking” happen? I watched 700+ a day sit behind their computers or play on their iPhones/Blackberries. I’ve been to several conferences in my career and regardless of topic, they all seem the same to me. I’m also always surprised by how quickly I want out of there.

Spring in Europe was also a bit colder than I expected. Talk about being underdressed with sandals and a jacket that I will burn because I never want to see it again. At some point, I’ll have to visit Geneva again because I didn’t see much more than the walk between the hostel and the conference center. My other big learning from Switzerland: I don’t like cheese fondue. After about four bites, you realize you’re eating a pot of melted goo that just slides down your throat and sit in your stomach. Yuck. A nice warm, gooey pain au chocolat, however, indescribable. Seriously yum.

The best part of Geneva was hearing complimentary words about a friend far, far away.  Another volunteer (from Poland) had taken a course in Denmark from a friend who lives in San Francisco.  His kind description and appreciation of my SF friend brought him to life.   I guess that’s how you’re supposed to network.

At some point, you encounter enough new experiences and moments that you just can’t process things fast enough. How can you tell or know if you’re having a good time or learning something? You can’t. Or at least I can’t.

About a month ago, I stopped posting because I just couldn’t figure out what to say. In my travels, I crossed a point where I went from doing things to seeing things. How can I compare climbing a glacier with seeing the world headquarters of the United Nations? Both were interesting, but of very different ilks. The loss of my camera also took away the excitement of capturing everything possible. I became more cautious or perhaps even more censoring of my own actions. Not to mention, Geneva was the first place where I didn’t think I was having a good time, but couldn’t be sure.  I decided I needed time to process it all.  Perspective comes with time and by putting things away and then bringing them out again to re-examine.

So where did we leave off? I headed back from Australia and New Zealand for a few days in Houston. After that I went to Geneva for the Lift10 Conference and then 2 weeks in Spain. At the moment, I’m in El Salvador with only 2 days left before I have to go back to work. Don’t worry though, I won’t leave out the juicy details of tapas ordering, daredevil driving, and pain au chocolat.

“PLUNK!”

“What was that?”

“That was my camera!”

“That’s that then.”

This small exchange kicked off a few hours of sulking in torrential rain. My camera, specifically purchased for this trip, had fallen out of my pocket and into the bottom of Milford Sound. How? I’m not entirely sure, but it was definitely gone.

I awoke that morning with an unusual level of unwillingness – it was the first time in New Zealand that I didn’t want to do what I had planned. Fighting the warm, toasty bed, I fixed my lunch, got dressed, and waited to be picked up. My plan was to kayak Milford Sound, see some waterfalls, and then check the last of the big NZ sights off.

One major hindrance: the biggest rainfall in 10 years.

I think it was hearing the guide’s astonishment and awe of the quickly rising water and rushing rapids that made me realize I was witnessing something special. So I tried my best to capture every moment. On that memory card, there were great shots of the river almost hitting the road. Or of a staff member on a cruise boat rushing out to take his own pictures of the waterfalls. Not to mention the shots where the wind and water was so strong that it looked like the waterfall was going up rather than down.

I can’t share them with anyone, but the memory lives vividly in my mind. Perhaps that’s what was intended. I suppose it doesn’t matter. We didn’t end up kayaking that day. No way, no how were kayaks entering the water when even big cruise ships were staying docked. We were this close to spending the night on board the cruises because the roads were closed. That would have been the most fascinating thing of all. Luckily, the roads were opened long enough to escape Milford Sound. I made it back to my hotel sans camera and soaked cold to the bone. I wanted to cry over my loss, but the tears never came. In the end, I couldn’t complain. I’d gotten what I wanted: a unique, amazing experience. You’ll just have to trust me, the water was going up to the sky.

“No, I have no idea where I’m going or what I’m doing,” I declared to CQ when I arrived in Wellington. This was after knowing that I was coming to NZ for a good six weeks and wanted to do something different. Planning isn’t always my strong suit. All I knew was that I was headed to the South Island and I needed to see nature. CQ helped me sort out an aggressive 10 day South Island plan that would include two kayaking trips, 1 day hike, a glacier walk, but driving on the wrong side of the road.

Day 1 of South Island adventures: Kayaking in Abel Tasman National Park.

I got picked up super early in the morning and we drove out to the kayaking company’s base. From there, piling in another van and straight to the water. We arrived at the dock only for me to see this going on:

About three meters of water gets displaced and brought back by the tides everyday. The width of the sandbar/beach is so much that they need these tractors to put haul the water taxis back into the water. It’s a good 10 minute ride from the dock to see. Imagine this boat with 10 people plus 4 kayaks tied to the back. And yes, it still floats.

We set off in the direction of Tonga Island which serves as a marine reserve, but also where you can find seals! It’s so strange coming up to what looks like a brown blob and realizing that it’s a live, fully in the wild seal. They let us come into their home. Baby seals are naturally curious, energetic kids who love to play.

I wasn’t so lucky that the seals chose to jump on my kayak, but my Slovenian friends Ales and Marjeta got the most bang for their buck when three seals jumped on theirs. But, I can say that this guy gave me a nibble. You know how dogs some times gnaw on you a little but without biting, well that’s what this guy did. Pretty cool.

Kayaking was fun and gives plenty of time for introspection. You really have nothing else to do while you’re paddling. The day was perfect, the company agreeable, but I couldn’t tell you what I thought about that day other than “this is amazing” and “I need to live near water always.” Assurances abound, however, that after a full day of kayaking 1) your arm will hurt so bad that you can’t even cut meat and 2) the next morning you’re still going to be swaying in your head.