Extraordinary @ MindSay

This was one of the most interesting, exciting, unexpected seasons of BlogAbroad yet. Maybe it was because of the bloggers themselves—the mix of personalities was astounding, from the philosophical, intellectual Gabrielle to Michal, the bon vivant who seemed to enjoy every moment of her time in France; and from Judd the wry adventurer to Joe, the meticulous, incisive, brave traveler of lands that many Americans would, frankly, be too scared to visit.

 

Or maybe it had to do with the places the bloggers studied abroad: From India to France to Jordan to Germany, this season’s bloggers seemed to have been spread out across the globe, both in geographic as well as in cultural terms. And such a wide range of cultures and countries absolutely made for a season of excitement.

 

Perhaps, though, in the end, it was some combination of these factors, coupled with that intangible something that manifests itself when intelligent people do extraordinary things and let the rest of us in on their adventures.

 

Alchemy. Excitement. Uncertainty. Honesty. All of these added up this season to result in one thing: A heck of a ride.

 

In today’s world, few places are more misunderstood and feared than the Arab Middle East. Indeed, recent years and events around the world have led to “Middle East” and “frightening” becoming synonymous. But Joe managed to get past those issues, make himself at home in Amman, Jordan, and delve beneath the surface. If there is one quality that defines him, it’s bravery. Whether he was traveling to Egypt or interviewing an administrator at the headquarters of the Muslim Brotherhood, Joe never failed to find a way to understand the nature of the people, the country, and the culture of his home for the semester. And as a result, we all learned a whole lot more than we probably ever expected to about this part of the world whose importance will only continue to increase in the coming years.

 

Gabrielle followed in the footsteps of so many of history’s most incisive and sponge-like minds and ventured to India. But unlike so many travelers who have found themselves on the sub-continent before, Gabrielle’s journey became just as much an internal one as it was external. She had her share of struggles, to be sure: From trying to find a research project for the end of the semester to learning how to communicate in Hindi, Gabrielle’s time was not always easy in India. But she always managed to pull through it, and usually with a healthy dose of self-realization and a sharing of the kind of wisdom that usually only comes from people much older than she. As this season ends, she is leaving India for other lands—Fiji, Singapore…you name it, chances are that Gabrielle will travel there. She has been an inspiration to every one of us who dreams of distant horizons and of shores in lands not our own. Hers truly looks like it will be a life less ordinary. And lucky for us, she has shared it for a few months.

 

As far as Michal goes, there is an expression in French that perfectly applies to her: La vie en rose. It means much more than its literal translation, which is to see the world through rose-colored glasses. And through Michal’s eyes, and through her blogs, we have all gotten a little glimpse of how joyous life can be when you allow yourself to experience it deeply. And while she still may not be able to smell all the different aromas in a glass of wine (though she tried mightily, and several times at that!), she’s learned to speak French, she’s seen some of the most beautiful parts of that fabled country, and she’s learned that the key to living a good life is sometimes nothing more than being open to the opportunities that come your way. If only more people had her worldview…

 

And, finally, there’s Judd, whose time in Germany is probably best summed up in his most recent posting: "Jon and I walked into Switzerland today to visit a Chocolate factory. We stopped at a super-market where we asked for directions and met a man who offered us a ride to the factory, as it was quite far away. Now I wouldn't normally suggest or accept rides from complete strangers, but Jon was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, so I went along complacently. We arrived at the factory in one piece I'm happy to say. In retrospect I think it is shame that we had to question the motives of someone who was just trying to be kind. In any event, we walked into the factory, but sadly, they were not running tours at this time of year. It's a shame too because I imagined it to be just like Willy Wonka's Factory inside. I suppose I'll have to wait till Spring to find out. We didn't walk away empty handed, however. We bought some cheap chocolate and then rode the train back to Konstanz.” There’s a lesson here: If you keep yourself open to new experiences, and to meeting new people and always remaining hopeful, then you’ll be able to accomplish anything. By the time he returns home, Judd will have been away for a full year. And by following his adventures, all of us are sure to be better, more interesting people for having done so.

 

Just remember that it’s not all over: The new season is beginning in just a few weeks. In the meantime, though, this is a great time to reflect on all that the bloggers have been through, learned, and experienced. It’s also a good chance to give ourselves a breather. Because once you meet next season’s bloggers, you may never want to leave your computer.

 

Stay tuned!

a couple weeks ago i bought a copy of "Batman Begins" on DVD. It is an awesome movie. definately the best Batman film to date.
But watching the movie made me think and wonder why superheros are never doing it just because. almost every superhero chose to fight injustice after some sort of tragic event. Batman after his parents murder. Spiderman after his uncle murder. Superman after the war on his home planet and his parents death. the Hulk after he got nuked. the Punisher after his family's murder. the examples go on and on.
why is it that it has to be some extraordinary circustance that make these ordinary men and women choose the life they do? why can't it be Joe Schmoe, sitting in his La-z-boy, drinking beer? I mean isn't it just as possible that a person could just become a superhero because they are bored? who's to say that the guy can't just say "Fuck it, i don't have anything to do today. hey, I know, why don't i go start some shit with a bad guy? yeah that would be cool"?
I think this is the next great superhero Extraordinary Man. he doesn't have a cape. he doesn't have any super powers. he just likes to start shit with people that are evil. he goes out at night with his super-mobile (a VW Beetle from 40 years ago) and uses his incredible ability of annoying enemies into submission.  his only weakness is a television with Tevo.
Oh yeah that's my kind of superhero,

Ohh yeah - when I read my past posts. I discovered this post I made about Fiona Apple. Her album which I meantion is done has been for quite a while, but the record company don't seem willing to release it.

 

Anyways I found it at a torrent site in a bad quality though.

It is in fact called Extraordinary and eventhough I still love her(fiona apple) voice, it's not captivating me as much as her paste albums did.

 

EDIT:

And I then surf around a little after posting this news I learned about fiona apple like 6 - 7 month ago and find out she HAS released the album reproduced and all - check out this review I found.

So that gives me a new goal for the weekend - get my hands on the "new" rereleased album - o'boy can't wait to check it out.

 

 

Welcome, welcome ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, to the second and final part of my five-day romance with the city of Te Anau and the Kepler Track, one of New Zealand’s nine Great Walks (not five, as reported earlier, sorry). If you’d like, please scroll down to read about the first part of my journey, though this is by no means necessary to enjoy Part Two.

(For trivia buffs, the others are the Routeburn Track; the Milford Track, which is, of course, by the world-famous Milford Sound; the Abel Tasman Coastal Track; the Rakiura Track; the Heaphy Track; the Waikaremoana Track; the Tongariro Northern Circuit; and the Whanganui River Journey—see New Zealand’s Department of Conservation website [www.doc.govt.nz] for more info on these and other hikes.)

We find our heroes awaking early, preparing for a steep uphill climb. We were around 500 meters up at Iris Burn Hut, and the trail would take us up around 1500 meters before settling down to Luxmore Hut, just over a thousand meters above sea level. The day started like the previous two, in the forest. The climb was steep from the get-go, and any hopes of levelling off were dashed as the trail wound its path up the mountain, growing steeper with every curve. I turned to music for strength, via my iPod Shuffle. It helped a bit, but if I have to give one piece of advice for steep climbs, it’s this: Don’t look up. Looking up while walking uphill and seeing only more uphill is very depressing if you’re already exhausted. Rather, the ground just in front of you, and work towards that, and then the ground just beyond that. The morning was not all despair, though, as our environment encouraged us with better and better views of our surroundings:




The forest seemed to age around us, the plentiful moss-covered beech trees giving way to hardier types, now covered in lichen. After an eternity, we very suddenly popped out above the bush line. Rejuvenated, we scrambled to the top of the ridge, and took in the panorama.







We had been warned of an “easy” uphill climb followed by a “hard” uphill climb. Climbing up, we thought that the easy part had shifted to the hard part, and we were now prepared for the gentle up-and-down of the ridge.

We were so wrong.



This picture is taken from a reasonably level angle, and yes, those are stairs winding away in the distance. Without handrails. On top of a freaking mountain. Looking up, I wondered if Kez had ever dealt with something like this in her training.

I climbed every one of those accursed stairs, and as clumsy as I am, I nearly tumbled to my doom on several occasions. My joy was boundless, though, and I scooped up a few handfuls of snow and threw them at Geri to prove it. Hey, when you’re from Texas, you’ll take snow whenever you can get it.

At long last, we arrived at Hanging Valley Shelter, which is just a small enclosed, well, shelter for hikers if the weather gets too extreme. We decided to have lunch just here, but there was one other guest.



The notoriously smart, notoriously notorious Kea bird, a kind of parrot, I believe. Intelligent and unafraid. Actually, under the wings of it’s gray-brown exterior are some vivid oranges, reds, and even blues. This one wanted our lunch, and though we gave him a bit of apple, he (she?) wanted more, and devised many schemes to get it, the most crafty of which was hopping under the table and snatching at food held in our careless hands. Christa and the kea had a face-off, neither backing down from a death stare that would have sent me home for a teddy bear and a hug. Eventually the kea retreated, though protesting loudly, and we enjoyed the sunshine on our faces. Christa then made a quick toilet stop, and as I looked over at the facility, my jaw dropped. That girl had nerves of galvanized steel.



The Toilet to Nowhere. It’s actually dangling over the edge of the ridge, and though it’s supported by those cables, I would definitely think twice about whether I really had to go before entering.

Soon, though, we moved on, and the going became slow, as first one side, then the other, then both dropped away from the trail as it curved uphill, now downhill, now around the side of this mountain, overlooking that lake. We soon glimpsed a fjord:



Though the scenery was unbelievably beautiful and changed with every curve of the track, the hard going took its toll on us by the time we reached the next shelter two hours later. This time four keas laid claim to it and its toilet, and they left quite a mess. They circled around us, cawing loudly. As we snacked on some cookies, they grew louder and louder, until I lost my temper and started arguing with them. They cawed back in deafening unison, and I gave up, defeated. Stupid green birds. We hiked on and on, and came to a side track leading to Mount Luxmore. This trail was less than a foot wide, and fiendishly difficult to follow, disappearing completely at times, leaving Christa, Geri, and me scrabbling up the mountain face. Eventually, we reached the top, 1471 meters up (around 5000 feet)



We lingered for a while, and then the call of a nearby kea drew us back to our packs, worried that the kea might have ripped a hole in them, or worse, tried to mark some new territory. As sunrays roved over the countryside like so many searchlights, the track sloped downwards to Luxmore Hut, and we reached it after eight exhausting hours on the trail.


A hut isn’t as small as the name connotes. Each one contains dozens of bunks and is about the size of a ranch house. Luxmore was by far the largest hut, and even had lights, which dazzled our eyes after days of candlelight and gas stoves. It was an early evening, as the hut was crowded, large groups of people jostling one another for space. We felt somehow removed from this group; we had come so far already, and these people were only beginning. They had not faced the perils we had, had not triumphed in the joys at Moturau, nor jumped in an ice-cold river at Iris Burn or reveled in every morsel of chocolate eaten during the breaks. We went to bed early that night, though I lay awake for a while, contemplating all that we had seen.

The final morning woke me just before seven, and I lolled in a half-stupor until Geri’s phone alarm went off, waking everyone in the bunkroom except Christa, who was coming down with a cold. Thinking that I should put on some water for everyone’s tea and coffee, I walked out towards the deck, yawning and stretching. There I found a most unexpected surprise.



Dawn approached. Now wide awake, I stumbled back into the bunkroom (I told you I was clumsy), and woke Geri, despite his request of three more minutes. “Sunrise,” I blurted, and he was up and out of bed like a shot. We watched the sky growing steadily more orange, tinting the low-lying clouds, and Geri suggested that we go down the path a ways, so we could see around the bit of mountain obstructing our view. Geri and I grabbed our shoes, and sprinted down the boardwalk as fast as we could go, uncaring that one slip would send us tumbling thousands of feet below. We stood in the thigh-high grass around the bit of mountain, and looked unblinkingly toward the horizon. One other hiker followed us after a few moments, and the three of us welcomed the first rays of the sun into the world.



After that, the day was a breeze. The path was entirely downhill, and we walked down through the bush line, through the clouds. The views were still excellent, though after Day 3 and that morning’s sunrise, it was tough to find a place on our camera’s memory cards. We strolled into the city of Te Anau a little after one in the afternoon, where we met Jamie, the Canadian guy from the first day, and gave him a ride to Dunedin, where he is currently enjoying his next adventure.

As we headed home, words and phrases like “incredible,” “wonderful,” and “Earth’s magnum opus” chased each other around my mind. Of course, that’s a far-fetched claim to make, only having been to two countries in my life, but the feeling lingered. Geri, Christa, and Jamie chatted of other countries, other times, but for me, I cranked up the volume on my iPod Shuffle, and concurred with U2: It was a beautiful day.

These are only a few of the pictures I took during my five-day journey. I have put up 130 pictures--including the ones you’ve seen--here if you’d like to see other pictures, learn more about the trip, or just see the pics shown here in higher resolution. The ones here are some of the best, but they’re only some.