last day of work

Apia, Samoa

Through tumultuous weather, clouds and rain to the clear skies above, I left my year in Auckland today.  My apartment, emptied of bikes, crockery and books, awaits my return, where for 3 more nights I will spend the last days of my sojourn, a tourist once again.  I will return as a visitor on a foreign passport to collect mementos of time passed, attempting to capture events, friendships, places.  I hold these memories close to my heart, but they are like grains of sand in the hourglass, defying containment.   The trinkets in my suitcase a poor attempt to share this year with friends and family.

My last day at work was anti-climactic, lost in rugby world cup opening day traffic madness, patient care, the usual routine of a busy general surgical practice.  Oh, there were the patients who gifted books, socks, and greenstone.  Good-bye tears shed.  Phone calls with those who I had difficulty expressing the depth of my thanks for allowing me to come to NZ, for taking a risk on an unknown approach to a workforce problem, and for sharing knowledge, support and compassion. A quiet meal for lunch with nurses and house officers (interns and residents) celebrated our year.  The day prior marked by a gift from the department, with thanks. 

Red vented Bulbul

Friday, September 9^th, the opening day of the Rugby World Cup, is the event that marked the day, not the last day of two Physician Assistants.  Businesses closed early, transport promised to be hectic.  The usually empty train platform was packed.  When the already full train came, I stepped aboard, squeezing in as one more person fit between me and the door.  We got to talking, the young trainee intern with a penchant for all things Spanish: salsa dancing, Spanish language. The London-based physiotherapy couple who will visit the US in 2 months, the Samoan who boarded the train for the festivities.  All of us, pressed against one another, hot and sweating, as the train waited on the tracks.  I understood how desperation for escape in crowds can lead to mayhem.  Even as some opened the emergency exit, allowing fresh air to rush in, our car was calm.  My last day, spent meeting new faces, new friends.  New Zealand, the small country where folks claim only 2 degrees of separation, rather than 6.  Auckland, for the first time in my experience, resembled the bustling of a bigger city.  Crowds arriving for the Haka, traditional Maori warrior-welcome,(which I missed due to work and train delays), fireworks and festivities.  The game took place outside the CBD, though every bar boasted opening game viewing, even those in small back streets.

What has this year meant? Perspective of course must be considered; personally, professionally;  perspective from the general surgery department, to Middlemore, the health workforce and international health.  Conjecture will replace any true knowledge of what this has meant.  The spinning of this tale is not yet done, though my physical presence in Auckland soon will be.  It will be interesting to see who it is I stay in contact with, for that is determined in part by my willingness to reach out, by others willingness to stay in touch, and by happenstance.

Frangipane outside my hotel room.

This year, I have been vulnerable to loneliness, yet assuaged by travel and sport, by visitors and family.  I see now that the vulnerability, or the fear of it, has both protected me and isolated me.  With confidence comes further risk taking.  I see that this year has bred more confidence which I hope in turn will yield more personal connections, more travel, even as I do now- a solo woman flying to the south pacific.

Park across from Hotel Elisa

Professionally, though my hands have been tied by policy, I have learned a different way of medicine.  Folks often remark that Middlemore has third world medical problems in a first world health system. Like many large centers in the US, the work outpaces the work force. Long hours and burnout are common.  Yet, the hours are still less here than mandated resident hours in the US.  The nature of the medical work intrinsically lends itself to burn out.  The need to provide adequate cover 24 hours a day, 365 days a year.  Hospitals can’t close up shop at 5pm and wait for the earth to rotate to morning once more.  The emotional impact of caring for people produces burnout like no other. Yet there are so many gifts.

I don’t know how my year will be perceived by others institutionally, nationally or internationally.  I do think we have demonstrated to MMH and NZ that mid-level care is not middle of the road, but rather excels expectations, providing continuity that teaching hospitals world-wide are sorely lacking.  Filling gaps, sharing the work, knowledge and skill, our team of providers yields better care than any one of us could have done alone.  The past year has been a collaboration of consultants, registrars, house officers, nurses,  politicians and policy makers. Where the PA profession goes from here in NZ is largely out of my hands.  I feel I have worked hard in a local, immediate fashion.  I am reminded of the bumper sticker, “Think globally, act locally.”  Yes, I have thought globally, my actions have been limited to local colorectal team at Middlemore.  Perhaps the effects will have larger ripples through NZ. Australasia, and other countries where medicine has difficulty reaching its people.  I will continue to “watch this space.”

Hotel Elisa: Apia, Samoa

While medicine is a bottomless pit, in many ways (there is always more one person  can request), the US medical system gives so much, yet misses so many.  I have learned, too, the value of universal coverage, rationing and rationalization of care. I return a better practitioner for my experiences in NZ.

View from my room El Manumea hotel

 Sea and sky have met for the past few hours of flying.  Now, white sand beaches outline the eastern shores, aquamarine water  suggesting coral reefs fuse into deeper blue offshore.  Samoa, land of my exploration, contemplation and relaxation,  I see you.

The private, rock-walled, roofless bathroom at my hotel...

Full circle

Photos while running: Rangitoto from Beach near Takapuna, North Shore. Auckland

It has been a full year since I arrived on that windy, rainy day in Auckland.    I arrived ten days before the start of work, to get my bearings.  Now, two weeks remain in my work contract. I will miss Aotearoa, the land of the long white cloud.  Mostly, I will miss the people I have come to know.  No, they are not family, nor have I built a community, a home, although, with time, I have no doubt I would.  Through work, I have come to know nurses, cleaners, orderlies, administrative assistants, barristas, cafe workers, consultants, house officers, registrars, patients and others.  Outside of work,  through travels and casual conversation,  I have come to know train conductors, fellow  travelers, locals and foreign transplants. ~ a myriad of people in a true multicultural community. People  have shown me such kindness.  Folks have loaned me books, an ear, brought me food, invited me to dine, introduced Caleb to Auckland and other young adults, helped me learn about medicine, held my hand through long days and difficult moments.   It truly has been a privilege to work with and get to know the many faces of Auckland,  as well as met those from Wellington, Greymouth, Christchurch and smaller kiwi towns.  Some friends have moved on ~ to the US, Australia, England, Germany, Israel, Japan, China, India and further afield.  Others I will leave behind.  I will hold them in my heart.  To all of you, friends: If your travels happen to take you to San Francisco, or wherever I find my home, I hope you will come stay a while. The door will always be open...

Contemplative tidal pool. More photos while running...

This land, where I have run, walked, soul searched, swam, explored, will forever be in my memory.  In the past few weeks, I have been working on revisiting places I love and seeking out those sights I have intended to see but somehow postponed. I visited the old art museum before its scheduled closure.  A new museum is set to open on Sept 3 which I hope to visit next weekend.  The nation is putting its best foot forward as the world focuses on NZ with the Rugby World Cup which opens Sept 9th. I ran to the new waterfront art and cafe walk, and later went on a date to an art show there.  Last weekend, I went back to Muriwei, my favorite  beach spot.  The long black-sanded beach makes for a lovely run; watching surfers, seabirds, dog walkers, and horseback riders provides pensive entertainment.  Observing the gannets court and cavort in the wind following the run was like a fine appertif to be savored.  I could have stayed for hours, but my feet were numb and cold.

Sunday run photos...

This is winter??? photos while running

Today, I ran along the shore from Takapuna beach toward Devonport, the eastern "North Shore" of Auckland. Running the coast, over rocks and along the bluffs was stunning.  The sun was warm, reminiscent of summer. It is hard to believe that by the calendar, we were still in winter.  (yet last week we had the first snow in 80 years in Auckland!!).  Unfortunately, I bonked... and had to lay down in a cemetary to recover before running the rest of the way to my car.  Dinner and Jasmine tea at a Thai Restaurant in Devonport revived me.   I consider  the land my feet have covered in NZ: from Russell, in the Bay of Islands north of Auckland, to the waters of Milford Sound, the tracks in Marlborough sound, and the streets of Wellington, Christchurch and Dunedin; the Coramandel, Rotorua, D'Urville Island, Taupo, Mt. Manganui,  and Taranaki.  Alternatively, I have considered  the varied  topography of NZ from glow worm caves, to surfing waves, volcanoes, glaciers, muddied tracks, dry hard pack, sheep trails, farm, bush, parks,  and city streets.  It has been a lovely adventure.  I am not sure yet what it all has meant and how I have changed as a result.  Time and distance may provide that perspective. Now, I am busy attending to work, job hunting, and moving with little time for contemplation.  That time will come.

Just past Takapuna. Run photos.

Many have asked what is next for me~

The month ahead will bring me a year's worth of seasons: winter now, next week heralds the first of spring (which in NZ is the first of September).  In two weeks, I will venture to Samoa (which will feel like summer).  I will leave NZ on Sept 21, the first day of autumn.

Devonport Picnickers: music, food, friends, dogs... Photos while running

At this point, I have two job prospects: One is teaching at Pacific University in Hillsboro, OR (near Portland), the other working in GI Oncology at Stanford University Hospital.  I will live with my sister, Margaret, in SF until I find my next home.   I do seek community and a home base from which to continue to travel, exploring the world, my own backyard, and myself.

Hauraki Harbour, Coromandel Penninsula in the distance. Photos while running

I will likely write few more blog entries, namely one from Samoa, and one upon my return to the US, before putting my blog to rest.

Auckland, as seen from Devonport. Photos while running

Thank you all, dear friends, family and readers, for allowing me to share my journey; my thoughts, travels, and pictures.  Thank you for taking time to participate in my life.  I hope I can lend an ear, provide support, pick up mail, show my love to you as well as you have  through your support in this past year.

but wait there is moa

9 weeks.

Is it possible that I have a mere nine weeks remaining in my one year contract to work in NZ?  A year.  It seems contrite to say that it has flown past, as at times, it truly has crawled.  In reminiscing, I understand better the depths of my naivte upon arrival.  Can it have been any other way?  I recall trying to train my ear to understand the kiwi accent, at once enjoying the lilt of the Maoori and failing to follow conversations for lost phonics and phrases. Culture. History. Medical culture. Language, expectations. Living in Auckland has brought new meaning to each of these phrases.  Experience that cannot be contained in one word, or picture. A song, a fragrance, a greeting: Kia ora. The depth of which I don't even begin to understand, but at least I have a better idea now.
What has it meant? Has my presence had an impact on medicine here? My intent, to lead by example, has it been enough? Health workforce issues are and will be a huge problem in the years to come.  Insufficient health care providers to give the care that is needed.  Even that sentence is loaded with preconceived notions.  Who is the health care provider? What is the care that is needed?  Need. One word that encompasses such different parameters in different cultures.
I cared for a woman on the plane who likely had appendicitis. Her "need" was to get to her home country to have her medical care where she could afford to pay for it.  The fellow from Lebanon, a non-resident of New Zealand, wanting to return to Lebanon for medical treatment, because he would not require an interpreter to understand what transpired from one day to the next in his hospital stay.  Expectations. Emergency room and emergent admissions are covered in NZ, though it may take some time to get the tests required. Gratitude commonly expressed by patients for the simplest of kindnesses.
I strongly feel that PAs offer a unique solution to the workforce shortage.  Two years of intense medical school classes, with clinical rotations has led to a qualified, quantifiable work force with a good fund of knowledge that is consistent and reproducible (and requires recertification).  We are trained with doctors to problem solve in a similar fashion. We are a group that works in collaboration with doctors in a model that best exemplifies medical teamwork to provide outstanding care.  It is well known among PA circles that when evaluated by independent evaluators, PAs provide better quality care than MDs. Why? Not because PAs are smarter, more caring, or better, but we represent a team. Two (or more) heads, and hearts, for that matter, are better than one. It is not about how good the provider is, but how good the care is that is provided. 
What have Stethanie and I changed? No, we still do not have the right to prescribe medicine, order xrays, but these hurdles can be overcome with time.  We have not started a school, or a licensing board.  We do not assist in surgery, or do many procedures on our own. We have gone back to basics of medicine: clinical assessment, discussions with the patient, and formulating plans with good scientific reasoning. I hope that our efforts have demonstrated a new way to look at how to structure medical staffing issues. How to think outside the box.
There are so many ways to solve these issues.  It takes flexibility on all fronts.

Another week lays ahead. I best get to bed!

Malcontented

It was one of those days.  The alarm clock rang several hours before I was ready.  The memory of the warm bed remained there even as I got ready to run for the train.  I think I left part of my brain on the pillow, for I was still in a daze at the start of my day. I yearned for coffee.
Everyone has these days. It was all about me. How hard it was to get to work.  How I really did not want to go to work.  How much work there was to do.  How I don't know what is happening next.  I was grumpy.  I was "not on."



  At first I thought my morning consisted of one disaster after another.  A code on a patient down the hall from mine-- I ran that code.  One patient who needed urgent surgery.  A chance meeting of a former patient who had suddenly gone blind. Rounding on several patients under our care who have been in the hospital for months.  At some point during the day, and it is funny that I don't remember when, I thought about each one of those people.  What their day must be like.  My day wasn't one disaster after another, it was one lesson after another. 

One thing about working in medicine.  I am always learning. New techniques, new ideas, new studies.  Today I had a little lesson in perspective, humility.
Today's lesson was about grace.
One of my patients was admitted in February.  She is a small, frail woman in her thirties.  She looks older than me.  She greeted us with a smile and entreated us to take some chocolate.  She can't eat and gets all her nutrition intravenously.  She loves chocolate; so she buys it to give away to us.  One night, before going home, I found all the nurses on her ward were setting down to a large  "take away"  meal.   When I asked who had arranged such a feast, they pointed to her room.  She had bought them all dinner and had her mother deliver it.  Yes, she has some bad days.  Mostly, she triumphs at small successes.  Like today, she got out of bed with help. Stood for a few seconds and made it into the chair next to her hospital bed. 

Tonight on the train, I tried to go back, to remember each person and imagine the day through their eyes.

None of these patients. NOT ONE complained.
Most of them thanked me.
and I thought I was tired.

Vacation, Italian style.

f

Reading on the patio @ il Baglio, Sicily with Morgan.

Ten days, sandwiched between four days of the longest travel days I have yet to experience,  the privilege of travel has been mine, yet again. From Auckland to Sydney, Hong Kong, Rome and finally Palermo,Sicily, I wended my way to a week long family reunion followed by four days in Rome with Morgan and Caleb.

The swimming hole at the villa on Sicily, reefs all around.

This trip has been a lovely repose. Rest from work and from my persistent self-examination of my future plans.  Within our group we had historians, anthropologists, health care providers, psychologists, musicians, writers, geologists, world travelers, thinkers, activists, environmentalists, intelligent and  creative minds.  The ages spanned from 8 to 80.  Each  perspective a different view of the world.  A lovely panoply  with which to experience Sicily.  I let others plan this vacation and as a result I have been a hitchhiker of sorts.  It has been delightful.

Bella, my niece, in the amphitheater in Segesta

In Sicily, we stayed in a lovely villa on the water between Catellemare de Golfo and Scopello.  The deep blue Mediterranean water was the perfect temperature for long swims, the days were mostly sunny and warm.  We dined exceedingly well, but the best food was what we prepared ourselves from the local cheese, olive oil, tomatoes and wine.  

Lion statue that guards the "fountain of shame", Palermo

One of our first excursions was to the ancient city of Erice.  We took the gondola  up through the mist to the walled city and wandered the cobbled streets to the ruins of the cult of Venus.  That night, we dined in nearby Trapani , nearly filling the exquisite trattoria with our party alone.  Sicily, being only 100 miles from Tunisia, has a multi-cultural history from Greeks, Romans, to African travelers.   The ruins were less crowded than those we were to visit in Rome and Pompeii.   Our next archeological site was Segesta.
There, on a sunny day, we viewed ruins of Muslim mosques,  the most well preserved of Greek temples, and whispered messages in the amphitheater.   Availing ourselves of the blue water, the ocean rejuvenated us after hours of viewing ruins.

Daedulus' wall, in the Temple of Venus, Erice

About 3miles down the road from our villa near Scoppello, the Riserva Nationale de Zingaro offered a place to hike, run and swim.   This nature preserve wrestled from road construction through protest of 3,000 people, was the first in Sicily formed only in 1980. I gladly paid the 3 euro entry fee thrice.  The water teemed with fish that were not present just a few km down the road at our house.  Fishing was not permitted in the reserve.  Although fishing has been a way of life for many Sicilians for centuries,  newer fishing methods have nearly demolished the Mediterranean marine life.

Zingaro National Reserve and Marine Reserve, Sicily

Palermo, home to the airport, lays claim to being the largest city in Sicily.    We had planned a birthday present/cooking class experience for my father in Palermo.  There we braved the traffic and met at the palazzo of a duchess for cooking class. Inside the walls, a magnificent home, full of history, secret passages and elegance, hides from the chaotic Palermo street traffic.  We ventured to a loud, bustling street market to buy ingredients for our feast.  Our “graduation”  was the dinner, the sum of our efforts. 

Shopping for our ingredients in Palermo.

As with many places in Rome and Sicily, resplendent churches may have humble appearing exteriors and set in the most unassuming places, providing a sharp contrast to the hustle of the life outside its doors.  A modern city has grown up around many of these churches and ruins, almost despite them.  How does it change one’s perception to grow up in a country where ruins from thousands of years ago exist next door?  Do you have the sense things do not change much?  Or rather does the contrast of modern and ancient remind one of just how much our actions influence the world/earth?

Palermo market

Caleb and Chloe, Palermo

 Our final group archeological visit was to Salinute, the largest archeological site.  Andrew, a historian who had written about the area, guided us expertly through the streets of Salinute.  He embroidered history, recent events, engineering theories into  a lovely background that made the experience much more meaningful.  I regretted not doing my homework more thoroughly prior to my visit for all the other ruins I had visited.  Andrew joined us for dinner at a small inn nearby.  Simple, delicious, set on a patio with overhanging grape arbor and gracious hosts, it was one of my most memorable dinners with the family.  

Temple at Segesta, Sicily

Our best meal, however, was not in a restaurant, or catered, it was a pot luck birthday celebration.  The impetus for our trip and family reunion was to celebrate my father’s 80^th birthday.  His actual birthday, March 12, was the day following the earthquake in Japan, a day I had essentially missed all together, as I was preoccupied trying to reach Caleb in Japan.

Dad, Kate and Chloe at dinner in Trapani

Thankfully, I was able to celebrate his birthday during this visit.  A slide show with pictures from Dad’s life had been created, a collaboration by Lynn, Kirsten with some input from every family member. It was a lovely tribute to a kind, generous man. There were many causes for celebration during this trip; Margaret’s birthday (June 3), Kimberly’s recent graduation, Brent’s upcoming 50^th birthday.

I have a lovely, loving extended family. This trip represented a perfect time to renew our ties.  If anything, I wish I had more time to spend with each of our family.  More time to discuss what was meaningful to their lives.  I hope to make more time to continue to connect with each member.  

Following our Sicilian family reunion, Morgan, Caleb and I returned to Rome, to spend a few days together before dispersing to different sides of the globe.

Cobbled streets, Erice

Fountain of Shame: Why? "Because the monastery faces the sculpture devoted to nudists" said the carbinieri of Palermo

Rome.  A city of ruins, art,  and food.  Cobbled roads leading to piazzas with magnificent statues, ruins from ancient Romans reused, or strewn on the ground.  Yesterday, we walked to the historic city center.  We walked on streets that thousands tread annually. The same the Romans built. We visited the Colloseum, Roman Forum, Piazzas that Michelangelo designed, we made wishes at the Trevi fountain, climbed the Spanish steps, and ate fried artichokes in the Jewish quarter.  With guidebook in hand, we recalled the lives of Caligula, Nero, the Renaissance.   

The Colliseum, Rome, of course. Only a 3 hour wait to get in.

We have been accosted and succumbed to some of the typical tourist traps in Italy. Our “apartment” has no kitchen,  just a hot water heater and a refrigerator.  It does have bed bugs.  The train tickets we purchased were done so at the assistance/insistence of a woman who later asked to be paid for her help.   Sometimes ordering in a foreign language leads to interesting meals, but it is Rome, and the food has been sublime.  Particulary at a small trattoria in the Trastavere neighborhood.  The chef sat on the steps of his establishment, smoking.  He later came by to each table, talking.  Through stilted Italian, I asked if he could teach us how to prepare his dishes. He volunteered that we could come and cook with him. Perhaps on another trip to Rome...

Morgan

Caleb

It is 11:38pm the night before we depart Rome for our various homes.  The day  was spent in Pompeii wandering ruins of a city that dates to the 2^nd century BC.  Copulating frescoes, amphitheatres, wagon ruts in cobbled roads, and casts of bodies, caught fleeing the gaseous emissions of Vesuvius will live in my memory. In Pompeii, we met Kate and David (sister and her partner) which provided a sense of completion to our adventures.

Home, Pompeii

  It intrigues me that the Romans lived much as we do now.  What we revile in their culture (gladiator battles, brutality) we mirror in our own reality shows, violence on TV.  The walls of the city of Pompeii were plastered (pardon the pun) in political graffiti, dating from 2 BC!  The town was comprised of many houses, a central living area, atrium, kitchen, bathrooms.  

Fresco, in the house of prostitution, Pompeii

Mosaic floor from house in Pompeii

Large houses (2000 square meters) were built by the wealthy, while the merchants lived in the rear of their stores (bakeries, wine merchants) or in smaller homes removed from the pastoral view or main attractions.
What have we learned since Pompeiians walked these streets... in that 2000year span of time?  Electricity, the industrial revolution, democracy, nuclear reactions, motor vehicles, flight, space flight, the internet… where has it brought us?

House of Mysteries, Pompeii

 Art. Music. Sport.  All  ageless, favorite pastimes evidenced in Pompeii, Rome and Sicilian archeological ruins.  After spending the day with frescoes by Raphael and Michelangelo, I also thought about how growing up with them might impel one to sketch, to aspire to venture more into the arts than if one lived in a newer culture or lived within a more electronic/internet aged culture.

Outdoor market, Hong Kong... (with similarities to Palermo)

Outdoor market. Hong Kong

  The internet has brought us the ease of answering questions, of witnessing great art, music, of connecting with others across the globe even as I do now.  Standing in the Sistine Chapel,  walking in the footsteps of ancient Romans, seeing walls purportedly built by mythical heroes, swimming in the blue ocean, smelling the sun baked earth of Sicily, hugging my sisters, playing with my niece… the richness of experience cannot be surplanted by tales and photos delivered on a screen.

Eat. Converse.  Seek out art, music, people.  Live history.  Experience.  This is what I bring home with me. Hopefully, I will remember to do the same once I am back in my usual routine!

Ciao Roma!

Downtown Hong Kong fountain

Roof top in Hong Kong with windmill. Green energy at work

Home from the holiday!

Sicily's sun baked red earth, Greek ruins, small cobblestone streets  are now just a memory.  Today, Caleb and I flew in from Hong Kong where we had a layover which afforded a trip to downtown and noodles for breakfast.  Sandwiched between our Hong Kong excursion and a week in Sicily, were four days of walking (and eating!) the cities of Rome and Pompeii. It seems miraculous that just two days ago we were in the midst of summer.  Auckland? Winter has officially arrived. It is in the 50s, cloudy with rain threatening.  After 30 hours of flying and little sleep, I relish the weekend to relax, wash clothes and prepare for the work week ahead.
Further posts with pictures to come!

Christchurch (Chch) and, finally, Home!

Lyttleton Harbour, south of Christchurch(Chch)

We arrived in Christchurch after several hours of driving in the rain from Dunedin.  The downtown portion of Christchurch has been cordoned off since the earthquake in February.  Recently, a few of the streets had been opened.  We parked the car, needing to stretch our legs and went in search of a place to spend the night.  The experience of walking on the outskirts of downtown was chilling.

The lovely old churches were the worst damaged buildings

Fences surround the business district of Chch. No traffic.  The empty streets are eerie.

Seeing buildings that had crumbled and still appeared as they did months ago, bricks scattered across the road, attested to the extent of devastation.  It was voyeuristic in some way, like watching the scene of a traffic accident as you drive by.  Buildings still had their spray painted signs that they had been searched and cleared.  All the buildings in Chch bear a sign denoting its safety status.  Red: danger, not fit for entry.  We walked for quite some time before reaching the motel area as we had to skirt the city entirely.  Most of the motels were full and we retraced our steps, jumped into the car to start our search for other motels.  We were lucky to find something close to the park and settled in for the night.

If you were to only see part of the building, it would appear completely normal... then you turn the corner and see that half of the building lies on the pavement that was once a sidewalk.

Workers are overwhelmed. Rocks still strewn as they fell 3 months ago.

Our last day on the south island was clear and warm.  We decided to try one of the many tracks for which Chch is known.  One of the favorites is the hike connecting Chch with Lyttleton, a small township south of town, over a small hill.  Our plan was to drive to Lyttleton and hike over the top of the ridge, then return and enjoy lunch in Lyttleton.  What we found was a small town that had been uprooted by the earthquake.  The local pub had opened in a trailer parked on the side of the road.  The other businesses did not look at all ready for customers.  We parked to hike the Bridle trail but after climbing several streets to the signpost, we found the track was also closed due to earthquake damage.  Instead, we walked the hillside streets, finding rents in driveways, some homes that appeared sound, yet marked by the dreaded red sign.

One of our planned hikes...

Caleb did get to meet with David once more before leaving the south island.  Our flight home was uneventful.  Once home, we had the pleasure of a visit from Morgan's friend Jillian, who cooked a curry dinner while I started on the mountainous pile of laundry.  Lovely to be home.  Spoiled by having dinner prepared for us, we returned the gesture by giving Jillian a ride to the airport on a clear starry morning.  Over dinner and on the ride to the airport, we reviewed all the things she might miss about NZ, and all the things that it would be lovely to return to see and experience.   " A new adventure awaits!" said Jillian...

I would have loved to hike this track, whose entry is adorned with a Maori carving...

Tomorrow, I will be back at work.

Only 3 weeks until my dad's 80th birthday celebration & family reunion in Sicily!!!! The whole family will attend.
Yes, I truly am blessed!

Dunedin

Otago Penninsula, outside Dunedin

Tuesday May 3.  Hogwartz Backpackers, Dunedin.

The rain outside thwarted our albatross and penguin sighting, though I stubbornly attempted none the less.  The result? Cold, wet and tired with a mild bit of ennui mixed in, Caleb and I returned to the backpackers that used to house the bishop.  Tea, granola bars and books will be my dinner tonight, as I our late lunch sated me and the rain dissuades me from another outing to the grocery store.  Tomorrow we leave Dunedin after breakfast and one more tour of the city, climbing the steepest street in the world.  We have been gone for 10 days now, and I am ready for my own bed, food, and clean clothes. 

Dunedin is a small city, where many Scots settled, at the neck of a peninsula jutting into the Pacific.  Rolling hills of the Otago Peninsula are dotted with sheep.  The coast is home to the yellow eyed penguin, blue penguin, and Royal Albatross.   We ventured to the Albatross Center, but missed the last tour of the nests where two albatross chicks can be viewed.  We were able to watch video footage of the fluffy gargantuan birds. The parents soar above the cliffs, dwarving the seagulls that usually are found careening about the tip of the peninsula.  We also visited the St. Clair Sea pool, but it was closed for the season.  The pool sits above St. Clair beach, and pictures when the pool is open show waves curling up over the wall and filling the pool.   We walked down to Tunnel beach, where a tunnel has been hewn out of the sandstone cliffs, yielding access to a beach from which to view the beautiful rock formations that is home to many shag and other seabirds.

Tunnel Beach

 Sketchy looking tunnel to the beach

 Although it is a small city, Dunedin boasts a museum, university, and botanical Garden, whose aviary served as the turn-around point of my run this morning.  We looked at the University of Otago and, on a whim, asked about medical school for international students.  We were told that they do not accept any international medical students.  In a country that is stricken by a diminishing medical student applicants and an increasing demand for medical practitioners, it is an enigma why they limit the field of applicants. 

Having evacuated Caleb from Japan due to concerns over potential radiation threats, I feel somewhat responsible for the predicament he now finds himself in.  He had a plan for the year, and a job.  When he left Japan, he had three days to tell the company if he planned to return.  Information about the radiation was slim at that point and all that was known was that Japan was not revealing the extent of the true issue.  The US had evacuated the diplomatic corps from Nagoya, where Caleb lived.  He decided not to return to Japan.

Start of the Kepler Track: one of the great walks in NZ

The issue of what Caleb should do next has been niggling.  One option is medical school.  New Zealand does a better job of providing doctors with a balanced lifestyle than the US medical system.  But for Caleb, he now needs to consider what he wants out of life, asking himself deep questions: Who am I? What do I want from my career? What kind of life do I envision for myself? Where do I want to live? How do I want to live?  What are my strengths, weaknesses?  What is my passion?  How do I wed all of this into the fabric of my life?  I too have been asking these questions, but have yet to refine the answers.  Let me know if you have…

"hut" to hut camping on the Kepler

Coming down from the hut, overlooking Lake Te Anu.  The Kepler track is one of NZ great walks and is so popular, reservations must be made up to a year in advance to hike the track.

Tomorrow we begin to wend our way to Christchurch and the end of our vacation.  The vacation has been a good mixture of visits and activity.  We hiked 28k of the Kepler track, one of the great walks in Fiordlands, kayaked Milford Sound, and took a cruise down Doubtful Sound.  In retrospect, the trip has been a lesson in geology, from the visiting the Fox and Franz Joseph glaciers, to seeing the results of plate tectonics in the mountains of fiordland, which continue to rise 1cm annually.  New Zealand is a place rich with natural history. The south island is much less populated than the north.  Lessons in biology, predators, prey and biodiversity  underlie  bird and marine life viewing.  In the kayak in Milford Sound, the caucophony of birdsong reminded me of childhood birding excursions to the Everglades.  It also came as a bit of a surprise that I have not heard its equal in many decades, a testament to the loss of songbirds in my lifetime.  

End of our hike: Lake Te Anu at Sunset.

Milford Sound by kayak.

Here in Milford Sound, small niches exist.  There is one valley known as Sinbad Gully, for example, where the Sinbad Skink lives.  No other place on earth can this particular skink be found...

Caleb in the bow; kayaking Milford Sound

A peaceful, quiet and personal experience of Milford Sound can be had via kayak.

Thus the vacation has been a perfect mixture of adventures, reflections, thoughtful discussions and reunions with friends.  Now, the weather has turned toward its usual winter pattern here, and urges me to return to my usual rhythm of work, rest, reflection, and play.  A good, strong rhythm with which to dance my life.

Early morning mist on Lake Manapouri, the gateway to Doubtful Sound.

 

Doubtful Sound is more remote and 10 times larger than Milford Sound.  We took a boat across Lake Manapouri, a bus over the pass, and boarded a second boat to cruise Doubtful Sound.  Captain Cook named this fjord "Doubtful Harbour" as he was not convinced it was navigable.

 The water of Doubtful Sound has a layer of fresh water on top.  This layer does not mix with the saline water below.  Tanins in the fresh water filter the light.  Many deep sea creatures are found in Doubtful Sound as a result.   When they turned the motors off, and quiet reigned, the sound was at its most beautiful.  If I come back this way, I would like to kayak Doubtful Sound as well...