USA: Coast to Coast

The complete title for this post should be USA: Coast to Coast and Nothing in Between. Time constraints forced me to skip the greatest part of the US focusing my visit on two cities: Los Angeles and New York. Some say these cities are not what you'd call "real America"; well, real America or not the places and especially the people that I met over there account for some of the most wonderful and genuine characters of my trip.

Los Angeles

My overnight flight from the Cook Islands dumped me in LA early in the morning. The very FRIENDLY (<- is this clear enough?) staff from customs welcomed me to America and opened the doors to sunny California. Although a few hours in Los Angeles are far from enough, I tried my best to take a little bite to the Californian Way of Life. A bus ride along the ever-impossible web of highways near Los Angeles took me to the beaches. Then a long stroll down Santa Monica beach to revive those cheesy American TV series. No baywatchers within sight nor silicon bimbos on rollerblades but the pier and the hot dogs were still there. Great atmosphere that made for another legendary sunset over the Pacific.

New York

Sunset over the Pacific, sunrise over the Atlantic. Good morning New York City! Said to be the world's capital, NYC really is an amazing place. The city in itself is well worth the visit but if you are lucky enough to share your time there with people like Howard and John... then your hands are boasting aces. I met Howard and John (74 & ?, American) through Couchsurfing, they offered to host me for a few days. Their magnificent apartment (two blocks away from Times Square) is insignificant compared to their kindness and wisdom. Howard guided me through the highlights of Manhattan: Times Square, Bryan Park, St Patrick's, Trump Tower, Rockefeller Center, Statue of Liberty, Wall Street, World Trade Center, Chinatown, Little Italy, Central Park, Guggenheim Museum... I'm sure you all have heard about them before. However only a native New Yorker like him could tell you about the legendary burgers of McSorley's (one of the oldest pubs in NYC) or the impressive frescoes of the museum of American Indians.

Once again it seems clear to me that a place is as good as the people you share it with. New York City is beyond words and so are Howard and John. Thank you guys for making my visit to New York such a wonderful time!

Interesting things that I've learnt:

• American hot dogs are nothing but a lousy frankfurt that wouldn't make for a proper snack for a German shepherd. Genuine burgers are, however, small pieces of art.
  
• Americans don't eat junk, at least not more than we do. Some of them are really good cooks that would blow the asses off the French, Italians and Spanish chefs (not the Basque, though! hahaha).
• Opera makes sense. Behind the odd look of the old-fashioned heavy-weighted fellows that sign on the stage there are exciting stories including bloody murders, bizarre sex and all sorts of perversions. On top of that these artist comprise the ultimate showman/woman, they are actors, singers and performers all-in-one.
• Among other things, the new WTC will include an astonishing transit centre designed by the Spanish arquitect Santiago Calatrava.
• Shopping in New York is good and cheap. Don't miss the second hand shops in East Village, especially No Relation Vintage.
• Apparently I am not the only one struggling to build furniture with bamboo. During my visit to the National Design Museum in New York I learnt about Ezri Tarazi, an Israeli designer who's tried to build amazing furniture with bamboo. Watch video!
  

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Por motivos de tiempo mi paso por los EEUU se limito a dos de sus grandes iconos: Los Ángeles y Nueva York. Muchos dicen que estas ciudades no representan la "verdadera América"; sea cierto o no los lugares y sobretodo las personas que conoci allí representan algunos de los carácteres mas genuinos de mi viaje.
Tras 11 horas de vuelo aterricé en Los Ángeles a primera hora de la mañana. A pesar de no disponer de mucho tiempo, mi corta visita a California me permitió saborear algo del famoso "Californian Way of Life". Primera y única parada: playa de Santa Mónica. Aunque se echaron de menos a los famosos vigilantes de la playa (sobretodo a ellas), las torres, los paseantes y los perritos calientes estaban allí.
Con apenas 8 horas de diferencia vi el atardecer sobre el océano Pacifico y acto seguido el amanecer sobre el Atlántico. ¡Bienvenido a Nueva York! La también conocida como capital del mundo es un lugar asombroso. Más aun si se tiene el gusto de compartir la visita con gente tan maja como Howard y John. Estos dos newyorkinos no sólo se ofrecieron a hospedarme en su apartamento de Manhattan sino que hicieron de guias improvisados por la ciudad. Times Square, la caterdral de St Patrick, el Rockefeller Center, la Estatua de la Libertad, Wall Street, el World Trade Center, Chinatown, Little Italy, Central Park, iconos de la cultura americana que hicieron las delicias de mi cámara.
Una vez más queda claro que la visita a un lugar es tan buena como la gente con la que se comparte. Nueva York es un lugar excepcional, como lo son Howard y John, sólo espero que todo aquel visitante que se adentre en esta jungla de cristal tenga la suerte de conocerla de tan buena mano.

Pics'n'vids: USA

Reclame

Hooked on the Cooks

Last Tuesday 8th of December I time-traveled for the first time in my life. I took a plane at Auckland's Int Airport at 10pm and arrived to Rarotonga the same day at 2.40am (20 hours earlier), now, how cool is that?

Rarotonga is the main island of the group of seven islands known as the Cook Islands. Less than 15000 souls -most of them Maori- inhabit this volcanic island whose total area covers approximately 67 km2 (the size of San Marino). In spite of the relative bad weather (20-25 deg C, overcast with showers), I managed to do a bunch of interesting things in this idyllic island. You won't find many pictures though, for two main reasons:
1) I thought that the bad weather didn't make justice to the place and 2) I spent a lot of time at the beach and under the water so most days I left the camera at home. The highlights of my trip were the trek across the island (8 km north-south), the bicycle tour around the island (32 km), the long hours snorkeling in the crystal clear waters of the lagoon that surrounds the island and the breath-taking sunsets at the beach.

In conclusion, a very relaxing week that helped to recharge my worn-out batteries. Next stop: America!

Interesting things that I've learnt:

• Tiny islands in the middle of the Southern Pacific Ocean are not a myth. I must add that planes don't crash there every now and then unleashing a very intriguing sequence of events with no logical explanation.
• A coin doesn't necessarily need to be round. Check out the $2 Cook Islands coin!
• The first European to come across the Cook Island was the Spanish sailors Alvaro de Medaña in 1595.
• The first European who cooked a tortilla de patata in the Cook Island was no other than Iñaki Merino Albaina in late 2009.

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El pasado 8 de Diciembre hice mi primer viaje en el tiempo. Al mas puro estilo Michael J. Fox en 'Regreso al futuro', me subi en mi Delorean particular a eso de las 10 de la noche hora local de Auckland (Nueva Zelanda) y aterrice en Rarotonga (Islas Cook) poco antes de las 3 de la madrugada de ese mismo dia. En otras palabras, retrocedi 19 horas en el tiempo.

Rarotonga pertenece al archipielago de las islas Cook. Con poco mas de 15000 habitantes, esta diminuta isla volcanica -del tamaño de San Marino- ofrece paz y descanso a todos aquellos que puedan permitirse un largo viaje al medio del oceano pacifico. Tal vez fue esto lo que atrajo la atencion del marino español Alvaro de Medaña al convertirse en el primer Europeo en darse un garbeo por la zona. Yo por mi parte buscaba descanso, y a pesar de que el tiempo no acompaño del todo, lo encontre. Mi visita se resume en: caminatas por la isla (especialmente bonita la que atraviesa de norte a sur en poco mas de 8 kilometros), largas horas buceando (con tubo y gafas) en el arrecife que rodea la isla y atardeceres de pelicula en la playa. En resumen, una semanita recargando las pilas para mi proximo destino: America!

Pics'n'vids: Cook Islands

Pic of the Week: High Up

The Adrenaline Week (Part II)

After the skydive in Taupo I was ready to leave New Zealand. Six weeks in this amazing country during which I went from herding sheep, to hiking through the Middle-earth, dancing half naked, climbing volcanoes, and finally to jumping from a plane at 12000 feet. Mission accomplished. Or wasn't it?

I arrived to Auckland on Sunday evening. I'd barely checked in my hostel when I received a message from two old friends from the south island; remember the Swedish Legolas and Aragorn? Cecilia and Lina had just arrived to Auckland from a trip to the north and were eager to explore NZ's biggest city. We met the next morning at the foot of Auckland's Sky Tower. This tower -built between 1994 and 1997- rises 328 meters from the ground offering stunning views of the city. It was at the top of the tower where Cecilia (or perhaps Lina) pointed at the harbour bridge and said: hey guys, did you know that people actually jump from that bridge? In a different context this comment would need further explanation, however in New Zealand everybody understands that what my friend meant was that one can bungy from the bridge. And to Cecilia and me this meant trouble. During our trip in the south we had agreed that if we ever saw each other again in NZ we would bungy together, no excuses.

I guess things like this must be done quickly, avoiding much thinking, but the speed of the sequence of events that took place that Monday morning (did I ever say that I like Mondays?) compares to nothing. Five minutes after the Infamous Comment (a.I.C.) the three of us were at the activities & tours counter paying for our bungy jump. For me that meant no way back, no matter what. 15 min a.I.C. I was lost in the parking lot, desperately looking for a silver Mazda. 28 min a.I.C. somebody was giving me a full-body harness and a helmet. 42 min a.I.C. I was sitting on a metallic chair while someone tied what seemed to be an elastic rope to my ankles. Finally, 47 min a.I.C. I smiled to the camera and adopted the position of "Christ the Redeemer" before leaning forward and fall.

I had done it, I had bungyed. For a long long time the bungy had been in my ToDo list but every time I pictured myself on the edge of an imaginary bridge cold sweat run through my hands and feet. In contrast with tandem skydiving, the bungy requires remarkable balls. There is no one backing you up there, it's only you and the rope. Your mind might want to jump but your body begs you not to do it. I challenge anyone who doesn't believe me to stand up right now, close their eyes and lean forward while imagining themselves falling from a bridge. It is terrifying. Nonetheless and by looking at me in the video you couldn't tell that I was scared, and in fact I wasn't. I guess it was the dramatic pace of the events that pushed me into some sort of ecstasy that made me insensitive to what was happening around me. I woke up when I touched the ocean's water and then it was too late to worry about anything, there was only excitement and fun. I must thank Legolas and Aragorn for that, thank you girls I couldn't have done it without you!

At last I was ready to leave, I packed my bag and left for the airport. It's becoming a cliche but once again I must say that some of the things I've experienced in New Zealand will remain in my memories for the rest of my life. Awesome country! Thanks Aotearoa for keeping me safe, take good care of yourself and see you again someday!

Interesting things that I've learnt during my last weeks in NZ:

• The meaning of the Maori haka.
• That Auckland's Sky Tower is highest free-standing structure of the southern hemisphere!
• That sandals (also known as flip-flops and thongs) and called jandals in New Zealand.
• How to overcome personal fears.
• The real value of consistency and social observation as motivational techniques (I put to practice some of the social psychology theory that I learnt for my master thesis).
• That my kiwi friend Glen does NOT live anywhere near Auckland. Sadly I learnt this the hard way, sorry mate we MUST see each other again in Europe or NZ!

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Tras mi salto en paracaidas en Taupo ya me daba por satisfecho con mi visita a Nueva Zelanda. Mision cumplida en las antipodas, o tal vez no? A mi llegada a Auckland aquel domingo recibi un mensaje de dos viejas amigas de la isla sur, Cecilia y Lina. Estas suecas supermajas me habian acompanado hasta Milford Sound y ahora estaban en Auckland con ganas de explorar la ciudad mas grande de Nueva Zelanda. Acordamos el encuentro a la manana siguiente, a pie de la Torre de Telecomunicaciones de Auckland. Fue en lo alto de esta torre (la mas alta del hemisferio sur) donde una de las chicas apunto al puente de la bahia y dijo: Sabeis que hay gente que salta desde aquel puente? En un contexto diferente dicho comentario requiere mas explicacion, pero en Nueva Zelanda todo el mundo presupone que a lo que se referia mi amiga no es sino a que es posible hacer puenting desde la susodicha estructura. Pero la cosa no acaba ahi. Semanas antes y tras ver a unos 'colgaos' en la isla sur, Cecilia y yo habiamos acordado que si alguna vez nos volviamos a encontrar en NZ hariamos todo lo posible por tirarnos de un puente en condiciones. Yo pense que ella no se acordaria (y no seria yo quien le refrescase la memoria) pero nada mas lejos de la realidad, 5 minutos mas tarde y desde el lobby de la torre mis amigas y yo estabamos pagando el salto. Supongo que una cosa asi solo se hace de esta manera, rapido y sin pensarlo demasiado, pero el ritmo de los acontecimientos de aquella manana es cosa de otro mundo. En apenas 20 minutos aparcamos el Mazda a orillas del puente. Acto seguido unos operarios nos pusieron los arneses y nos condujeron a la plataforma de salto. No habian pasado 50 minutos desde el comentario en lo alto de la torre cuando a pies puntillas me acercaba a la repisa de la plataforma. Salude a la camara, abri los brazos cual Cristo Redentor y me deje caer al vacio. Con dos cajones!

A juzgar por el video del salto no se podria decir que los tengo como bolas de canon, que no estaba asustado para nada. Y para mi sorpresa la verdad es que no lo estaba. Todavia no me lo consigo explicar. Durante anos habia sopesado la idea de hacer puenting, sin embargo cada vez que me imaginaba saltando de un puente las manos y los pies se me llenaban de un sudor frio de la impresion. A diferencia del salto en tandem (paracaidas), en lo alto del puente la responsabilidad de saltar es tuya y solamente tuya. Es algo irracional, tu cabeza te dice 'vamos' y tu cuerpo dice 'ni de cona'. La verdad es que aquel lunes mi cuerpo no decia ni mu, o si lo hacia yo no lo podia escuchar. La voragine que me habia transportado desde lo alto de la Torre de Telecomunicaciones hasta la plataforma de salto me impedia sentir nada. Para cuando me desperte estaba tocando el agua del oceano y para entonces ya era demasiado tarde para preocuparse de nada, solo quedaba disfrutar. Una experiencia inolvidable que se la debo principalmente a Cecilia y Lina, sin su determinacion no lo habria conseguido!

Tras tachar el puenting de mi lista ya estaba listo para abandonar Nueva Zelanda. Os sonara a topico, pero mi visita a las antipodas me ha deparado un punado de experiencias dificiles de olvidar en lo que me queda de vida. Que pasada de pais! Gracias Nueva Zelanda por los ratos que me has hecho pasar, cuidate y nos vemos de nuevo algun dia!

Bungy from Auckland's Harbour Bridge

Pics'n'vids: Adrenaline Week (Part II)

The Adrenaline Week (Part I)

Here a funny thing about time, sometimes a second can last for hours and some other times a week seems to go in less than an hour. One can squeeze a life in 25 years or waste it in one hundred. I've spent the last ten months celebrating mine and after lots of planning I was ready for a colossal party that I called 'The Adrenaline Week'.

Monday:
In contrast to the Boomtown Rats and Brenda A. Spencer I DO like Mondays. I believe a good start of the week can shoot you over the tedious Tuesdays, Wednesdays, etc... and bearing that in mind I cracked my adrenaline week with a bunch of insane downhill mountain-bike rides. The terrible weather (pouring rain) and the world-class mountain-bike trails near Rotorua teamed up to provide what's probably been the scariest of all the activities I've done in New Zealand. I know that after reading what I did the following days you won't believe what I've just said but it's absolutely true. Forever carved in my memories the two young wild boars running in front of my out-of-control bike as I rode down the Split Enz. Watch movie!

Tuesday:
After a few days of rain the weather finally gave us a break. To celebrate it we signed up for a rafting trip down the Kaituna River. The river features grade 5 rapids plus the awesome 7 meter (21 feet) Tutea Falls, the worlds highest commercially rafted waterfall. To be honest I prefer slightly calmer waters because in this kind of rivers there is not much you can do on the raft, basically you go down at the mercy of the rapids praying for your life each time the instructor shouts: DOWN!

Wednesday:
The rain was back in town so we decided to hit the indoor climbs at a local gym. Nothing special really, but a good way to keep the body pumping. We topped the day bathing in the thermal waters present in this volcanic area of the country.

Thursday:
Drove from Rotorua to Taupo stopping at the very impressive Huka falls and the supermarket to stock up for the next's day challenge.

Friday:
Our prayers for good weather didn't work - not even the Maori haka. After five days waiting we decided to set off for the Tongariro Alpine Crossing anyway. This 19-km trek -said to be the best day trek in NZ- features dramatic views over volcanoes and pristine lakes. I guess they were still there but due to the adverse climatology we could barely spot some peaks. Certainly a shame but at least we can say we did it, which was far from easy under those conditions.

Saturday:
After the previous night's celebration I woke up with a head cold and a mild hungover. Luckily I had some ColaCao left and this was indeed a good time to use it. Timid sun beams found their way through the cloudy sky. I looked at the calendar, looked up to the sky again and said: now or never! One hour later I was sitting on the lap of a Hungarian skydiver on a plane at 12000 feet above the Lake Taupo. The door slided open, a wave of strong wind blew my face, my feet hung in the void, and eventually I felt the final push, off we went!

For three seconds flashes of the shinny pink fuselage mixed with others of the far ground in a sensation that can only be compared to being inside a giant washing machine. We stabilized after five seconds or so, from there on a dramatic free fall towards the clouds. It was when I felt the moister of the clouds on my face that I started to realize what was happening and I just loved it! We left the clouds level behind (or above) us to discover the snowed peaks and the massive lake Taupo -the size of Singapore- growing lager. Then the pull, the sound of something unfolding and a jerky stop in the air. Finally I could hear Laci (the Hungarian Siamese twin attached to my back), How would you like to play with the parachute? He supervised while I maneuvered the life-saving device with the right and left cords. Finally he took over and asked me to raise my legs. My ass landed smoothly on the green paddies near the airstrip.

I couldn't believe what had just happened, 45 seconds earlier I was sitting on a plane and now I was on the ground. That had been, without a doubt, the most unbelievable minute of my life. Thanks to all those who made it possible.

Sunday:
Emulating the good Lord I decided to rest on the seventh day. It had been an amazing week with very few hours of sleep and way too much excitement. My body needed some rest and found it on the couch of the hostel. What it didn't know then is that there was one last surprise awaiting.

To be continued...

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La paradoja del tiempo es que a veces un segundo puede parecer una eternidad y sin embargo otras veces una semana se esfuma en un minuto. 25 años pueden valer una vida o tal vez 100 no sean suficientes para cumplir tus sueños. Yo me he pasado los ultimos diez meses celebrando este regalo de mis padres que es la vida y tras echar un ojo a la hucha me agencie un billete para una montaña rusa que bautice como 'La Semana de la Adrenalina'.

Lunes:
Tal vez no suene demasiado excitante en un principio, y menos cuando leais el resto de la semana, pero descender las laderas proximas a Rotorua fue sin duda la actividad mas excitante de la semana. Los barrizales, las sendas con badenes, los conejos y jabatos saltando delante de la rueda delantera de mi bici y las caidas (sin mayores consequencias) permanecen en mi recuerdo como una de las experiencias mas extremas del viaje y tal vez la mas arriesgada. No habia gozado tanto sobre dos ruedas desde mis carreras por el 'rompeculos' de Armentia.

Martes:
El mal tiempo por fin nos dio un respiro y para celebrarlo nada mejor que un descenso en rafting por el rio Kaituna. Este rio incluye rapidos de grado 5 y varias cataratas, incluyendo una de 7 metros que es la mas alta que se puede 'navegar' en el mundo. Todo sea dicho yo me quedo con las aguas mas tranquilas de Nepal pues en un rio como este no hay mucho que hacer sobre la barca, basicamente uno baja a merced de los rapidos agarrandose al remo y la barca cada vez que el instructor grita: abajo!

Miercoles:
La lluvia volvio a hacer acto de presencia. Nuestra alternativa para mantener los niveles de adrenalina altos fue una visita al rocodromo de Rotorua. Nada nuevo pero sin duda una buena manera de matar el tiempo cuando la climatologia no acompaña. Para acabar el dia nos dimos unos baños en las aguas termales de la zona.

Jueves:
Dia de transicion. Mis compañeros de viaje Greg y Bryony (24 y 23, ingleses) condujimos los 90 kilometros hasta Taupo parando en un supermercado para abastecernos para nuestro proximo reto.

Viernes:
Nuestras plegarias no fueron escuchadas y el tiempo no mejoro. Cansados de esperar, nos decidimos a intentar la Travesia al Tongariro. A lo largo de los 19 kilometros de caminata (desnivel de 800 metros) uno pasa de las laderas volcanicas a las cumbres nevadas y los crateres y lagos de aguas pristinas. Supongo que todos ellos estarian alli pero lamentablemente y por culpa del mal tiempo no pudimos ver casi nada. La travesia se convirtio en un desafio contra los elementos que me costo un catarrillo que cure a base de cervezas de celebracion.

Sabado:
Etapa reina de la semana. Tras una noche movidita desperte con un ligero dolor de cabeza, nada que un buen tazon de ColaCao no pueda remediar. Entonces vi la señal, unos rayos de sol que se abrieron paso entre las nubes sobre el lago Taupo. Tras meses esperando a este momento era la hora de decidirse: ahora o nunca!
Una hora mas tarde una avioneta rosa despegaba del aerodromo local y yo me sentaba al regazo de Laci, un paracaidista hungaro que habia prometido devolveme a tierra firme en una pieza (viva o inerte). Ser el ultimo en subirse al avion no solo significaba sentarse al lado de la puerta de metacrilato sino tambien que yo seria el primero en abandonar la nave. El altimetro alcanzo los 12000 pies (3500 metros), la puerta se deslizo dando paso a una racha de viento que despejo los sorprendentemente pocos nervios que me tenia. Mis pies colgando fuera del avion, Laci sacude mi hombro y se impulsa fuera del fuselaje. Los siguentes 3 segundos (o 3 horas?) se resumen con flases de avioneta y suelo en la lejania, algo asi como estar dentro de una lavadora gigante. Tras esto Laci consigio estabilizarnos, desde ese momento y durante 10 segundos (o 10 horas?) caida libre sobre las nubes. Fue al sentir la humedad de las nubes sobre mi cara cuando me di cuenta de que no estaba volando o flotando sino cayendo. Increible sensacion, imposible de explicar. Pasamos las nubes de algodon y descubrimos los picos nevados y el lago Taupo (del tamaño de Singapur) haciendose mas y mas grande. Un sonido electronico es sucedido por otro similar a una vela hizandose sobre el oceano y entonces paramos en mitad del cielo, como si nuestro ascensor se hubiera estropeado a mitad de camino. En la calma de las alturas oigo una voz, es Laci, me pregunta si quiero maniobrar el paracaidas a lo que respondo gustoso. 'Tiro de la cadena' derecha e izquierda a lo que el parapente responde con sendos giros en espiral, por primera vez siento que estoy volando de verdad. La tierra se acerca a nosotros y Laci retoma el control. Me pide que levante mis pies en lo alto. Mis posaderas se posan sobre la hierba del aerodromo tras una habil maniobra de mi gemelo siames.
Que ha sucedido? hace 45 segundos estaba sentado en una avioneta y ahora estoy aqui, sobre la hierba. Que ha sucedido? porque no puedo evitar sonreir? porque tengo ganas de correr y saltar como un crio? La adrenalina supongo. Gracias a todos los que han hecho esto posible.

Domingo:
Siguiendo un buen ejemplo yo tambien descanse el septimo dia. Habia sido una semana llena de emociones fuertes y pocas horas de sueño. El sofa del hostal y la compañia de Greg y Bryony son suficientes para llenar mi domingo. Mi cuerpo descansa sin saber que la montaña rusa no ha llegado a sus destino. Continuara...

Pics'n'vids: Adrenaline Week

Skydiving over Taupo

No, I haven't gone surgery to become an American blonde (yet). I stole this video from a fellow skydiver to recreate every second of the jump without paying the ridiculous amount of money that I was asked for my own video. Hope you enjoy it!

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No, la del video no soy yo (por si quedaba alguna duda). Este video pertenece a una de las chicas que salto ese mismo dia y a la cual pedi una copia para rememorar el salto sin pagar la salvajada que pedian por mi propio video. Espero que lo disftureis tanto como yo!

Iñaki & Co Performing the Maori Haka

My Embarrassing Journey through the Maori Culture

Back from the Middle-earth it was time to continue my tour around the world in miniature. Bye-bye adrenaline bursting Queenstown, hello Sunday-at-the-library boring Dunedin. On towards the big balls on the beach, followed by my reunion with the sheep, a couple of boring days in Christchurch (again) and finally off to the north island.

From what I've seen so far the north island is completely different to the south. Here the footprints left by the Maoris over the last centuries are much more obvious and easy to track. Did you ever wonder how America or Australia would be today if someone else (instead of the Europeans) had taken the lead in the discovery? Well, New Zealand is a good example. It is estimated that the first wave of Pacific immigrants arrived from Hawaiki as early as AD 800. Having realised the potential of the natural resources present in the area they hurried to bring some beautiful women from their tiny native islands and settled in what they called Aotearoa, which means 'Land of the Long White Cloud' (people still talk about those legendary 'dobbies').

Dutch explorer Abel Tasman arrived in 1642 (possibly in search of those legendary smoke clouds) and named the land Niuew Zeeland hours before out-sailing for his life after a violent encounter with the Maori settlers. In the years that followed convoys of British and French sailors revived the experiences of the Dutch seafarer including the infamous encounters with the locals. Battles and unscrupulous purchases of Maori land took place throughout the islands for the next few hundred years until in 1840 some Maori leaders signed a 'take-it-or-die' treaty with the Europeans.

Nowadays the descendants of the Maori, European and later to come Asian immigrants live together in a remarkable example of multiculturalism. I've been long interested in the Maori culture. It always fascinated me the courage of these peoples who one morning woke up in their idyllic tropical islands and said: hey bro, fancy a life-threatening boat trip to nowhere? Not only they managed to survive the not-always-Pacific ocean but they also found a better place for their families. They adapted to a much colder environment and established a thriving civilization.

A visit to the impressive Museum of New Zealand or Te Papa Tongarewa in Wellington was a good start for my journey to Maori territory. However I always claimed to be more of a 'do' person than a 'read' or 'stare' fella, consequently if I was to discover the Maori culture I had to do it the right way. Why limit oneself to staring at some Maoris performing the traditional 'haka' dance when I could give it a go myself? F*ck me, as embarrassing as it was I had a blast doing it! The most hilarious part was the post-interview with the crew of Shangai TV (who paid for the lessons) during which I had to sell New Zealand's cultural heritage to an audience of millions of potential Chinese tourists.

To conclude I most deeply apologise for the embarrassing video to the entire Maori community and to my friends and family; what can I say, I couldn't take another long rainy day in paradise!

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De vuelta de la Tierra Media prosegui mi vuelta al mundo en miniatura. Adios a la capital mundial de la adrenalina Queenstown, hola 'mas aburrida que un domingo en la biblioteca' Dunedin. Reanudamos la marcha visitando las pelotas picadas en la playa, mi reencuentro con mis viejas amigas las ovejas, un par de dias mas en la aburrida Christchurch y por fin despegamos rumbo a la isla norte.

La isla norte se parece poco o nada a su vecina del sur. Aqui la huella dejada por los Maoris -primeros pobladores de Nueva Zelanda- es mucho mas facil de rastrear. He aqui mi version resumida de los ciclos migratorios de las antipodas:

Una soleada mañana del 800 DC dos bilbainos (de nacimiento) residentes en la preciosa isla de Hawaiki en mitad del Oceano Pacifico se encuentran en el bar de la esquina. Tras discutir sobre el arbitraje del ultimo partido del Athletic uno de ellos salta con la siguiente proposicion: A que no hay huevos a montar una gabarra y navegarla hasta tocar tierra allende los mares y volver a este bar a contarlo? Como todo el mundo sabe si hay algo que un bilbaino de pro (resida donde resida) no puede resistir es lo de hacer tragarse el 'a que no hay huevos' a un compañero de txikitos. Asi pues nuestros amigos de Hawaiki pusierson rumbo oeste y no pararon hasta dar con Nueva Zelanda. Comprobada la calida de los viñedos de las islas, nuestos intrepidos compañeros se apresuraron a traerse a las Maris para que les preparasen las alubias en su nuevo hogar. Años mas tarde, cuando en 1642 el marino holandes Abel Tasman se atrevio a decir que el mus de verdad se juega con 8 reyes la cosa fue a mayores y el tulipan se vio obligado a volver a su pais no sin antes bautizar las dos islas como Nueva Ziganda (en homenaje a aquel gran delantero del Athletic). Durante los proximos 200 años marinos ingleses y franceses se repartieron el bacalao de los Maoris despachandoles a golpe de mosqueton hasta que por fin en el 1840 los residentes Maoris y europeos firmaron el Tratado de Waitangi. Desde entonces Maoris, Europeos y Asiaticos han convivido en un clima de multiculturalismo ejemplar en este precioso pais.*

Mi viaje por la tierra de los Maoris comenzo en el Museo Nacional de Nueva Zelanda en Wellington. Mi paseo por las salas dedicadas a la historia de esta civilizacion tan interesante me fascino de veras, no obstante y como ya he dicho alguna vez en este blog yo no me conformo con visitar o leer sobre una cultura, no si puedo evitarlo. Y fue asi como una mañana lluviosa cualquiera y de la manera mas tonta mis compañeros de viaje y yo acabamos poniendo en escena la haka, o baile tradicional Maori, para un equipo de la television China (que se ofrecieron a pagarnos las clases). Momento de oro aquel en el que me dirijo a los televidentes chinos animandoles a descubrir Nueva Zelanda al mas puro estilo Ramon Garcia en la gala anual de 'Nueva Zelanda que bonita eres'.

En fin, pido disculpas a los pobres Maoris y a mis familiares y amigos por sufrir la verguenza ajena pero que se la va a hacer, cuando el tiempo no acompaña y alguien menta las palabras magicas 'a que no hay huevos' los resultados son impredecibles. Mas experiencias fuertes en 72 horas!

*Puede que mi version de la historia de Nueva Zelanda no sea 100% fiel a la realidad, pero sin duda es mas divertida y sorpendentemente fidedijna. Si quereis leeros el ladrillo hacer clic aqui.

Pics'n'vids: Dunedin to Rotorua