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.

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.

My thing is that I tend to get motion sickness on them. Ask Louise how Providence to Martha’s Vineyard went about 5 years. Since then, it’s outside in fresh air for me. Luckily, crossing the Cook Straight went wonderfully. I think it’s my new favorite ferry. New Zealand has the sky we only dream of in America. After teasing CQ the night before about staring at sunsets, I realized why she does so. It’s mesmerizing. It was also freezing cold. Double jacket, hat, in desperate need of a blanket, I spent three hours braving the winds, but without a tickle in the stomach.

I ended up on the Interislander between New Zealand’s North and South Islands entirely on the recommendation of a woman I skied with in Lake Louise. It was her favorite part of her NZ trip to and said I would regret not doing the voyage. My favorite day was yet to come, but this day was pretty spectacular. How often do you get the sun shining down on clear, clean blue water where you imagine rays dancing across? I spent the whole trip in disbelief that I was actually there. Without realizing it, I had mobilized myself to take time off work, plan a trip, and end up entirely on the other side of the world. All by myself. And I was having a great time. With nature.

“Cut off from direct experience, cut off from our own feelings and sometimes our own sensations, we are only too ready to adopt a viewpoint or perspective that is handed to us, and is not our own.”

I’d started reading Michael Crichton’s Chronicles (thank you Amy) as I started my sabbatical and found his experiences resonating with me. It’s the best description of why I don’t like to plan too much or read too much before I travel. I’m afraid of not being able to make up my own mind. To know what I actually believe and think about something. Crichton’s quote is also perhaps the best justification for why I chose to take time to see the world. I felt I had erred too far in the direction of allowing my life’s natural momentum to take over rather than making conscious choices. Only with direct experience could I reawaken myself to life’s possibilities rather than acquiescing to the well-formed path beneath my feet.

My South Island adventures are entirely designed to generate direct experience. We shall see what sort of mayhem and mania I encounter. But first, get another look at this view:

I am very familiar with Cuba Street in Wellington.  Other than that, I couldn’t tell you much about Wellington’s city center.  Why spend time in the city when you can get out and see the countryside.  CQ, Stu, and I took off for a day of wine tasting in Martinborough.   The long and windy road gave my stomach a go, but it was worth it.  As it was a quiet Sunday prior to Easter holidays ending, not much was going on in town.  We had a great lunch outside on a supremely sunny day.  Then we hit three wineries that remind me of the small and intimate places in Sonoma.  I tried my first botrytis wines as well as a red that tasted like cotton candy.  On purpose.

CQ then directed us to Olivo, an olive grove and oil producer.  Turns out that it’s her favorite reason to visit Martinborough.  We had the good fortune of being treated to a tour of the olive groves and a lesson in olive oil making by Olivo’s owners.  We were lucky in that we could see the olives still on the trees turning from green to black.   Then we heard about Mrs. Percy who had recently visited Olivo with her fellow ladies from Masterton.  Olivo makes dessert olives (balsamic and pomegranate) that were so irresisitible to Mrs. Percy and her friends they called up Olivo to figure out how they could get more.  As Helen told us this story I could just imagine the little old ladies sitting around figuring out just how many more jars of pomegranate olives they needed.  After hearing a story like that, I had to buy the olives to find out for myself.  I’ve wrapped the jar up so I won’t be tempted to try them before getting home.     What I don’t know however is how I’ll get more if I find out like Mrs. Percy that I must have them.  Olivo, like many places in Martinborough can’t be found outside of Wellington, let alone New Zealand.  Let’s hope they’re only okay.

Well, I saw it on the menu at a Wellington cafe and dared CQ to ask the waiter.  She refused, so I went and did so myself.  The waiter looked at me confused then realized what I had asked.  With a smile, he informed me that a Fluffy is steamed milk for kids and a Vienna is coffee with frothed cream on top.  I was pretty disappointed with the answer.  I thought I had discovered a unique Kiwi coffee concoction.  I ordered the Vienna, but it didn’t have the appeal of the Fluffy Vienna.  If I ever open my own place, you will see a Fluffy Vienna on the menu.  There’d be some combination of whipped cream, coffee, and chocolate.  I may need to have a Fluffy Vienna creation party when I get back to DC.  Any takers?