Ten years ago today I arrived for the first time to Aotearoa New Zealand.

I was a month shy of 19 years old. As the northern hemisphere slid into winter, the southern was climbing into spring, though it snowed the day after I landed. I’d never been away from home on my own for more than a week. Apart from a quick family trip across the border to Canada (before passports were required), I’d also never been out of the country. Yet (and this has never happened in any of the more than a dozen countries I’ve been to since), as soon as I stepped off of the airplane I felt at home and a sense of a peace strong enough that I stopped and took a mental note of it.

This evening I plan to take some time to reflect on the past ten years. I want to look back at why that trip happened, how it cascaded events after it, and what that means for my future years. It was such a life-defining trip: so much that has happened in the intervening years has been shaped by it. Maybe it’s because I’ve been back several times since, but it doesn’t seem like it’s been nearly a third of my life ago.

It’s important to take time away from the comings and goings of life, to step back and reflect upon one’s life itself. I want to evaluate where I’m at, in the context of where I’ve been – what I thought and told myself back then – and see what changes I should make for tomorrow.

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.
– J.R.R. Tolkien

Even if my friend hadn’t received my note with flight details (he hadn’t) to come pick me up I wasn’t worried. I wasn’t coming into a foreign city that I didn’t know. I’ve become very nonchalant about my travel, but am even more so here in a way. Not apathetically, but comfortably. I know what road from the airport to take to get into town, how to avoid the central business district and what alternate routes to use to get to my friend’s house.

I call New Zealand home. It’s part tongue-in-cheek and part how I really feel about it. That doesn’t mean that Oregon isn’t home to me also, but just to explain how comfortable I feel here, even when I find more and more cultural differences the longer I stay. The first time I came here, a wet-behind-the-ears traveler a mere 18 years old, I felt oddly at peace, welcome, and, well, home when I stepped off the plane. For someone who’d never been away from home or family for more than a week or two, that was significant and memorable.

Why am I reiterating all of this? It’s nothing I haven’t expressed before: friends expect me to stay each trip – even my banker thought it wise to add a few extra weeks to my accounts’ travel notice and the immigration officer asked me when I was moving permanently.

Maybe it’s to emphasize what I felt the first few days walking and driving around Christchurch. I was glued to the #eqnz Twitter stream and online media news sources the week of the February earthquake. I saw all the footage and photos. I read all the stories. I knew more about the city’s situation and plans than my local friend when I arrived. But I hadn’t seen it all myself. It feels a bit surreal.

When I bussed from the airport to the mall where my friend was to pick me up, I went right through my old neighborhood. Aside from a boost in traffic, it was fine. Maybe one roof with a removed chimney. Then we drove across town, around the CBD and to the east side. Buildings missing facades, second story rooms exposed where roofs and walls had fallen away, potholes and protrusions all along the roads where liquefaction had sucked down or pushed up the pavement. Previously familiar areas unrecognizable through the damage. You think you know a place and discover that you may no longer. It feels a bit surreal.

The next day I spent the morning walking along the east side of the cordoned off downtown. Initially the entire central portion of the city was closed. Roughly 100 blocks by my estimate. A month later there is much more open and many inroads pushing towards the interior red zone. As I walked along cracked pavement and gaping earth, looking at destroyed businesses and leaning houses next door to seemingly intact buildings, I noticed that everyone who could was going about their day. Yes, it’s been a month, but this is how it’s been since the initial shock (and aftershocks) wore off: life goes on.

I had the opportunity to meet with a handful of businessmen who had previously worked in the CBD. While they expressed frustration at not being able to access their buildings, even if they were okay, the biggest topic was how they were managing to continue running their businesses and how different companies were coping. Listening to people talk at a local pub’s trivia night you wouldn’t hear anything about the quake. Church groups still meet, though possibly (like my old church) in a different building. My friend and I were talking, he said that life is still moving on for most people, things just take a bit longer. Water needs to be boiled before drinking. Driving somewhere may require slower speeds and alternate routes.

For all of that, there is still a tension, a disturbance, under the surface. The second and third nights I was woken by aftershocks. In the nine days I’ve been here I’ve noticed five aftershocks, a couple of them strong enough of long enough to be a little disturbing, though not dangerous. Compound that number by months and that will start to cause strain. And of course there is everything else, it’s foolish to play like there are no residual effects. There are lives lost, property damaged, jobs gone, landscape changed. Schools are still only partially open. Christchurch won’t be a “normal” city for several years, if it ever really is again. The natural need to continue life will cause a shift in where hot spots are in the city for recreation. That makes it weird to see a place I have contemplated living long term be in such a state.

* * * * *

I’m having a hard time knowing how to end this post. I didn’t have much of a point when I started writing outside of explaining how odd it is to come to a familiar place that is striving to rebuild and return to normalcy.  Perhaps this is a DIY. Draw your own point, lesson, conclusion. For me, understanding what New Zealand is to me is an ongoing process – it’s just that it got a little more complicated.

Pre-ticket purchase – “That would be so cool!”

Ticket purchase – “WOOO!!! I’M GOING!!!”
This ebbs and flows slightly depending on how much I’m thinking and being reminded of the trip, but generally stays pretty high. For a few months, life goes on, but the anticipation stays high.

Two to one weeks out – “Oh man! I’m so excited, it’s coming up!”

One week to two days out – “Shoot! So much to do! Stressssssed!”

The day before – Stress + “Wait, I’m really going to miss you all! And I wanted to do that thing that’s happening while I’m gone. Sad.”

The night before – Poor sleep.

The day of – Freak out I’m forgetting something.

On the plane – Siiiiggghhhhhh, I can finally relax.

Land – “YEEEEAHHHHH!!!!!”

(Currently at “The Day Before”)

On September 22nd, 2010 there was a 7.1 earthquake in the Canterbury region of New Zealand’s south island. It was roughly 25 miles west of Christchurch (and 25 miles south of where I went to school in Oxford). It struck in the middle of the night when very few people were about and at a depth of around 6 miles. No one died as a direct result of the quake, and damage was limited.

Since that initial quake there have been over 5000 aftershocks. Read that again. Five-thousand aftershocks magnitude two or higher. That’s roughly 30 per day.

Things seemed to be settling down until thirteen days ago. At 12:51pm on Tuesday the 22nd local time, when tens of thousands of people were at work, people were having lunch, and tourists were taking in the sites, the biggest aftershock occurred. Smaller than the original quake, this one was centered only six miles south-east of Christchurch and a mere 1.2 miles deep. Those two facts, in addition to the timing, created a much more devastating earthquake. 166 people are confirmed dead, thousands have been displaced, the central business district (CBD) was heavily damaged, and nearly two weeks out core services aren’t 100% yet. For the first time ever, New Zealand is in a state of national emergency.

And this is the situation I want to write about. I don’t have a point I’m trying to make, I don’t have any agenda. I just want to share my thoughts. Call it my small coping mechanism for the small way this affects me.

Anyone who knows me knows that New Zealand is my heartland and second home. When I was 18 and 19 and going to school in Oxford I visited Christchurch at least once a week for three months. During my work with Impact World Tour I was sad to not help with the Christchurch show. And then in 2007-08 I lived in the city for eight months. No, that’s not a huge amount of time, but it became home. I had a church I ran sound for and attended; I had a weekly barbecue with a few friends; I had my local watering holes and local dairies; I grew to know locals and became part of the sporting community there. It was in Christchurch I first lived on my own and bought my own first car.

Honestly, it was hard to not be there in September. At first I thought it was weird, but from talking with people, they understand. It has been really difficult to not be there now. Not to see the destruction and tragedy, not to have a sob-story, and not have people care for me. As horrible an event as it is, it is the type of thing that forces community to happen. People must come together. And when major events happen to a group of people, whether it be a small group of friends or a nation, it creates a common bond – a shared experience that connects people. Just like your grandparents can tell you where they were when Pearl Harbor was attacked, like your parents can tell you where they were when Neil Armstrong set foot on another celestial body, and like you can tell each other where you were when 9/11 happened, Canterbrians will be able to tell you where they were and what they were doing at 12:51pm February 22nd.

That’s a shared experience I will only have with them by proxy. Through a handful of personal connections and the Internet. I heard about the quake through Twitter within minutes of it happening thanks to a web designer acquaintance who was visiting at the time. For the rest of the week I was glued to live streaming online news from New Zealand and Australian channels. While the majority of the world focused on the tension in Libya and the Middle East, I looked the other direction. But all I’ll be able to say is I was sitting in my office 7327 miles away worrying about friends.

A shared experience isn’t the only reason I want to be there. I want to help shovel silt from the liquefaction from my friends’ driveway. Or to give someone a place to sleep. To help my mates sort out water through their church. I think anyone else would feel the same for a place they consider home. I’ve been keeping up with people who are helping with the technical side of the recovery effort. Within a day websites were popping up helping people find resources and report issues. Even being in touch with these techies has been good. I hope to be able to do more. The Red Cross is looking for some web development help and I may be able to do something there. It would be great to use my skills somehow, even if I’m not there.

What’s weird to think is that in three weeks I will be there. I purchased tickets for a month long trip in December. The plan was to visit friends, holiday, and play in the NZ Ultimate (frisbee) Nationals. I would be staying with one of my friends in the city, probably spend a few afternoons downtown, eating sushi and watching gentlemen play the oversized chess set in the shadow of the cathedral in the square. It’s weird to think that I won’t be allowed into the CBD, it will be at least partially closed for probably months. It’s weird to think I may not be able to stay with my friend because I’m not sure of the state of his house. It’s weird to think I’ll probably have to boil drinking water and use a toilet dug in the back yard. And it’s weird to know that I will experience small aftershocks while I’m there. Currently, every few hours a magnitude 3.something aftershock is occurring in the Canterbury plains. I’m not expecting to be in any danger, but it will be a bit surreal.

If (when?) I move to New Zealand, Christchurch is always where I’ve wanted to live. That hasn’t changed, but it won’t be the same. Not just the skyline, but the culture and mentality of the population has irreversibly changed. As someone there mentioned, there is no six-degrees of separation in New Zealand. For a country of only 4.3 million people, it’s more like two-degrees. If you don’t know someone who was affected, you know someone who knows someone who was.

Much to my relief, everyone I know in Christchurch is safe. Their houses aren’t necessarily, but they are. I was very touched by the friends and family who reached out to ask how I was doing. I wasn’t even there, but they knew how much it meant to me. To those of you, thank you so much.

– – – – –
If you read all the way down here, I’m impressed. Thanks for letting me ramble and process.

Countries: Four
(United States, Canada, Mongolia, Philippines)

States: Six
(Oregon, Washington, Colorado, Utah, Idaho, Nevada)

Cities: Twelve
(Only visits where I stayed all day or slept there)

Lived: Six
(Places I lived one month or longer)

Beds: Twenty
(Including one under the stars)

Planes: Fifteen
(Counting connections)

Airports: Twelve
(Unique ones)

Airlines: Six

I lived out of a suitcase quite a lot this past year. I don’t expect that to change much this year.

And you know what the best part of all of that was? It wasn’t seeing the piece of land my brother is working to preserve while simultaneously develop education in Mongolia, it wasn’t the mango smoothies in a marketplace in the Philippines while our military escort filtered through the crowd. Nor was it the beauty of Estes Park in Colorado or morning runs and swims in the lake in the Central Oregon wilderness.

It was the people all along the way.

It’s my friends and teammates from Ultimate Frisbee who, only knowing me for a short while, are sad to see me go.
It’s the random man who paid for my taxi in Manila, the friendly lady who passed the time with me in the airport in Ulaanbataar.
The nuns who showed boundless hospitality.
The people who held long conversations with me to challenge my attitudes, thoughts, and beliefs.

And suddenly I’m stuck because of the overwhelming amount of incredible people I know and met this year. It’s painfully beautiful.

The best thing for me in traveling is the awesome people I meet: be it in transit at the airport or welcoming me into their homes and life at the destination. It’s also the hardest part because I’m always picking up and leaving again.

My friends complain about me traveling because they are afraid I won’t come back. It’s love. What I’m not sure they understand is that it’s not just I who am gone from their lives for that time, but they who are gone from my life.

Sometimes I half-seriously joke about there being too many awesome people in this world. You can’t know or be with them all. But you want to, because they are incredible and have an amazing story. I want to know what makes everyone tick: what makes them love and hurt. But that’s not really possible, there isn’t time or space with so many people.

I haven’t come to terms with that yet; I’m not sure I want to.

At the beginning of the summer I knew of several friends who were about to embark on some pretty big adventures overseas. For some of them, this was to be their first time traveling outside of America. I wanted to write a list of little tips that I’ve learned after years of traveling: things that have helped me or that I find important. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get it done before they left, but hopefully it will still be beneficial to them and others in the future.

So here at last is a non-finite list of lessons I’ve learned while traveling that may help you on your next trip. If you have anything you’ve learned as well, please share in the comments here.