Pilgrimage to New Zealand

by Eric Huynh (son of Han and Judy Huynh)

Everyone should visit New Zealand at least once in their life. It's truly a marvelous place, with scenic highs to match any place on earth and activities for the wildest adventurers, all in one compact country. In New Zealand, you are never more than two hours from the beach or more than a foot away from a sheep (there are 13 sheep to every person). It has all the conveniences of a "modern" country with few of the nuisances (if you can put up with three-month-old movies). In general, New Zealand feels like America if America were "done right." People are friendlier, and everything somehow feels safer.
I visited New Zealand for the first time this past April, and was asked to write about my trip for 7ND. Since this newsletter is targeted toward New Zealand alumni, I expect most of you already know more about the country than I do. But I hope there are some readers out there like me, sons or daughters of 7ND members who have grown up in Viet Nam or the United States, and have yet to set foot in the "land of the long white cloud" (that's New Zealand, by the way). Or maybe some of you haven't been back to New Zealand in years, and this will rekindle some memories. Anyway, here are a visitor's impressions of this wonderful country. (Note: My knowledge of Vietnamese doesn't extend beyond restaurant menus, so I'll have to write in English.)

CHRISTCHURCH

After a few days in Hong Kong and a month in Australia, I arrived in Christchurch, the largest city in New Zealand's South Island. My first impression: This is the most efficient airport I have ever seen! Everything was very smooth; there was no waiting for luggage (a big relief--when I landed in Hong Kong, my luggage landed in the Philippines) and going through customs was a breeze.

My host Quang Dinh was already at the airport to greet me, which was a pleasant surprise. I met Quang during his visit to the United States, which many of you read about in the last 7ND (his story was the model for this one). His father Qui attended high school with my father in Viet Nam (so many years ago!). Quang was very helpful in showing me around Christchurch and helping me plan the rest of my trip, but the best thing about staying at his house was his mother's incredible cooking; possibly the best Vietnamese food I've ever had. I almost hoped they would adopt me so I could eat like that every day.

Christchurch is described as "the most English city outside of England." I've never been to England, so I will take this on faith. It's certainly different from most cities I've seen. Though Christchurch is either the second or third largest city in New Zealand (it depends on whether the person you ask is from Wellington), it retains a distinct small-town feel. It might be because of the downtown square and the lack of skyscrapers, or maybe it's because they still have milkmen.

The Avon river winds lazily through every block of the city (or so it seems), surrounded by nicely manicured gardens. Tourist sites include the old University of Canterbury, the Cathedral, a top-notch natural history museum, the botanic gardens, and some wacky guy named the "Wizard" who apparently speaks at Cathedral Square every day except the day I was there. Trams have also returned to the city, but Quang assured me that walking was faster.

The new University of Canterbury (where Quang is a student), unfortunately, is not nearly as nice as the old university attended by the students of the '60s (our mothers and fathers). Quang showed me around the grounds, and gave me probably the most detailed tour in history of the rec centre. The new campus seems to have been designed by engineers or scientists, but not architects or artists. This cluster of concrete and steel outside the city makes the historic, quaint, old downtown campus (which now serves as the arts center) seem even more appealing. It's college like you imagine it from the movies: the green grass of the quad surrounded by ivy-covered brick buildings. But now there are no classrooms, no offices. Just shops selling beads and trinkets. That's progress for you.

Besides helping me make travel plans, Quang taught me a lot about New Zealand sports. Most of their sports have logical American equivalents: Rugby (the national treasure) is football without pads. Cricket is a slow, boring version of baseball. But the worst is netball, a simplified version of basketball played mainly by women, as if to say women can't play regular basketball (we know they can). In netball, defense seems to be discouraged, yet the players still frequently miss their shots. I found it hard to watch, but I fell in love with rugby.

TRANZALPINE EXPRESS, WEST COAST, AND GLACIERS

From Christchurch, I went on a tour of the South Island by train and bus. Though Christchurch is a major city, the South Island is primarily known for its natural beauty and "adventures" offered to tourists, like jet boats and bungee jumping. Of course, all of this is expensive, so it's best if you are happy with simply seeing the sights. I quickly convinced myself I was.

The TranzAlpine Express train service is highly recommended. I rode from Christchurch to Greymouth on the West Coast, where I transferred to the first of many buses. On the train, you see the scenery abruptly change from the grassy plains around Christchurch to rolling foothills and then to ever-steeper mountains, with icy blue rivers thrown in every once in a while just to take your breath away. I spent much of the trip in the "observation car," an open-air car in the middle of the train where everyone goes to take pictures. It was very cold out there, but you couldn't beat the view.

Traveling by train will always be fun, but traveling on a bus is fun for about 10 minutes, especially when your driver seems to be trying to show you that driving through the mountains isn't that hard--look how fast I can go! The worst part of the bus trips were the "refreshment breaks." We would always stop at some roadside store/gas station/restaurant, and they always had simply awful food--greasy meat pies and other tasteless, British-inspired "food." After meals at the Dinhs' house, it was particularly disappointing. These buses were designed for sight-seeing, but my stomach found it easier to try to sleep as much as possible so I wouldn't get sick. It's a shame, because the South Island has to be one of the most beautiful places on earth.

My first night I stayed at the Franz Josef Glacier, a real-live glacier that you can walk on or fly a helicopter over. I opted not to take the $150 helicopter ride, and spent only a few waking hours at the glaciers. I enjoyed myself cheaply, doing some exploring on my own. My memories will not be of climbing on a river of ice, but of enjoying the full moon at midnight as those icy blue glacier-spawned rivers roared toward the ocean.

QUEENSTOWN

My next stop was Queenstown, a ski mecca in the winter, and a plain old "fun" city the rest of the year. Queenstown's geographic situation is incomparable. I took the gondola (skyway) up the side of the mountain to get an overlook of the city, and it was breathtaking. The city is nestled between mountains on the shore of Lake Wakatipu, with still more mountains jutting right out of the clear waters of the lake. I can't imagine a more picturesque setting for a town.

Queenstown is a tourist trap in many ways, but there's always something to do. I stopped at a bird sanctuary to see New Zealand's interesting native birds, including the kiwi and the kea. Kiwis are what everyone wants to see, but they aren't very exciting. They're nocturnal, and the only way for most visitors to see them is to go to one of these "nocturnal kiwi houses," where the light is kept dim during the day, and you can view the kiwis through glass if you're lucky. I waited 15 minutes and saw nothing, until finally one of the park rangers came to help. All around the kiwi house there are signs telling you to keep quiet, to not use flashes, or do anything else to upset the kiwis. You begin to think they're some holy kind of beast, and should be treated with the utmost reverence. And then this ranger comes in and shatters that image. He roots around for a while, finds a kiwi, and then picks him up and THROWS him to the front of the cage, just so some tourists can have a look. So I got to see my kiwi.

I like the kea much better. It's a dull green parrot that enjoys the cold weather in the mountains, and it causes all kinds of problems because it's not only very smart but incredibly destructive. Keas have been known to attack sheep and love to pick at the rubber seals around car windows. They're not scared of people at all. They walk around "like drunken sailors," as one bus driver described them, waiting for you to make a mistake so they can grab something to eat. As a local, I would probably grow to hate them, but as a visitor, I found them very amusing.

MILFORD SOUND

From Queenstown I took a special bus trip to Milford Sound, which is always listed on the "must-see" attractions of New Zealand. Milford Sound is, by my estimation, the most beautiful place on earth. If you haven't been there, by all means go. It's everything they say and more.

The Milford Track is a very famous hiking trail that every New Zealander is supposed to do once in his life. I didn't have time to walk it, but covered roughly the same ground on the bus (I know, it's a poor substitute). They both end up at the same place: the tip of the Sound, where you can (and should) take a boat tour on the sound out to the Tasman Sea.

As the tour guides are fond of saying, Milford Sound is "not really a sound, but a fiord." If you're like me, you don't even know the difference. Whatever you call it, it's an ocean inlet surrounded by steep, rocky mountains. It's hard to describe the beauty of this place without pictures. Imagine steep mountains rising directly out of the water like wading giants, with literally hundreds of waterfalls pouring off them at every angle after a heavy morning rain. Now imagine that, but even more beautiful. That's Milford Sound. We had dolphins swimming right beside our boat, cruised past a seal colony, and headed right into a waterfall. Most of the smart people backed up or went indoors, but I stayed right at the front of the boat--that water was cold!

INTERISLANDER FERRY

The following day, I returned to Christchurch. Though I loved the South Island tour, I was glad to get back to Quang's house for the food. I spent another day in Christchurch before leaving for the North Island and the rest of New Zealand.

New Zealand is divided into two major islands, and to get from one to the other you must fly or take a ferry. I opted for the Interislander Ferry across the Cook Strait. The ferry is very large; it holds cars on the bottom level, and has several decks for passengers, complete with small arcades and casinos, a movie viewing room, and several restaurants serving the same disgusting Kiwi fare I had at the South Island bus stops. It was a great trip for a while--more of that New Zealand scenery, with a maritime twist--but after three hours I only wanted to know when I was going to be off the boat. I was asleep before we got to Wellington.

WELLINGTON

I had a list of people I was going to stay with in New Zealand (mostly through email connections my parents set up), but I had no one to stay with in Wellington. In Christchurch, Uncle Qui mentioned an Uncle Duong who went to college with my father. I didn't know who he was, so I was a little hesitant to call him up and say "Can I stay at your house?" Qui helped me out and it was easier than I thought.

I'm so glad that I did stay with him in Wellington. Uncle Duong was the most interesting person I met on my whole trip, and his family (including exchange students) was great, too. I could have listened to him tell stories all day. Listening to him talk about Viet Nam in the days after the war was eye-opening, but made me feel very happy that my parents were in America at the time, where they couldn't be sent to prison for trying to escape.

It was also nice to hear stories about my father in his younger days. I guess, like most people, I've always seen my father as something far less than extraordinary. Growing up, he was just the short balding guy who couldn't throw a baseball right. But coming to the other side of the world and hearing about his golden student days gave me a new perspective, and now he's one of my heroes. That was one of the best things I got out of this trip.

Wellington is the capital of New Zealand, but more importantly to me, it was the first place my parents lived after they were married. Uncle Duong took me on a tour of Wellington, and I got to see all the places I'd heard about: 72 Kelburn Parade, my parents' first flat. Victoria University, where my father took English classes before starting at Massey. The botanic gardens and the cable car. I was taking all kinds of pictures to bring memories back for my parents.

Dad had the bright idea that I should check on his Bank of New Zealand account from 30 years ago. Although he only left about $30 in it, there was a chance that compound interest turned it into an extraordinary figure--like, say, $60. I think it's more likely the entire amount was consumed by fees, and he probably owes them money now.

On an international scale, Wellington is not a large city, yet it behaves like one. For one thing, it's the capital of New Zealand, and has all the requisite government buildings, including the oddly shaped Parliament House which is known as "The Beehive." The downtown area by the harbor is built up, and most of the construction looks very recent. The main square with the library and public buildings seems especially haphazard--it's like there was an architecture competition, and the judges couldn't decide on a winner, so they let them all build in the same place.

I immediately felt at home in Wellington. I don't know if that was because it reminded me of San Francisco (crazy hills, cool weather) or if there was some memory left from my parents.

PALMERSTON NORTH

Palmerston North is the home of Massey University, where my parents met in the '60s. As such, this was another of the focal points of my trip; without Massey University, I wouldn't be here today. So PN was a special place for me, even though I had never been there before.

I stayed with Auntie Huong and Uncle Tuoc's family. Before arriving, I had heard plenty of things about this house: "It's a circus!" "You can't usually see the floor." All of these things were true, but it was a rockin' good time. I thought we had a lot of people under one roof in Wellington (7), but that was nothing compared to this place, "the most casual house in New Zealand." Even though Uncle Tuoc was out of the country, we had 10 people in the house, and I had the unheard of luxury of a room to myself. I felt a little guilty.

Palmerston North was a non-stop party. I arrived on the train from Wellington at 10:00 PM on a school night, and I assumed that maybe people would be going to bed. No way! At that house, I think the activities start every night around 11:00. I felt at home very quickly. The first night (remember, I got in after 10:00) we: played the piano, did karaoke in Vietnamese, did karaoke in English, watched videos, and ate two meals. They don't believe in "lunch" or "dinner," but rather a continuous series of meals every two hours.

I toured Massey University the next day on a borrowed bicycle. The university apparently has changed massively since the mid-60's. It's still a largely agricultural college, with buildings named "Wool" and "Dairy Research," but seems to offer just about everything these days. I called my dad (collect) from Colombo Hall, where he used to live, to ask him what I should look for to take pictures of. He pointed me in many directions, but many of the buildings he named were in their second or third revision, and my pictures turned out to be of places he had never seen in his life. But I got a picture of Dad and Duong's bachelor flat in Palmerston North, which looks exactly as it did 30 years ago.

My last morning in PN, Tu (Huong's daughter) and her husband Hoang took me to Manawatu Gorge just outside the city. That was another good place for pictures. Hoang was a lot of fun, but I have to admit that whenever I was riding with him, I had to avoid looking at the road, or I would have thought I was going to get killed. I hate to stereotype, but it seems like Vietnamese men are all crazy drivers. Brakes are seen as a last resort, and making eye contact with the person they are talking to in the back seat is somehow more important than keeping an eye on the road. So if you're reading this, Hoang, be careful!

ROTORUA

Like Queenstown, Rotorua is one of the tourist havens of New Zealand, and deservedly so. Rotorua is home to large Maori population, and the site of much geothermal activity. Unfortunately, that makes the whole town smell like rotten eggs (the geothermal stuff, not the Maoris), but you get used to it.

I did the tourist thing in Rotorua, because what else was there to do? A company called Tamaki Tours took me to a traditional 'hangi,' or Maori feast, with a concert of traditional folk songs. At the hangi, our food was wrapped up and buried underground with hot coals to cook. It tasted better than it sounds, though everything ended up tasting the same.

When the tour returned, I spent half an hour in my own private thermal pool at the Polynesian spa, looking up at the stars. The next day I visited the Whakarewarewa (yes, New Zealand has funny place names) thermal reserve, with its bubbling mud pots and boiling geysers. It reminded me of a small-scale Yellowstone National Park, and it was probably the source of much of that rotten egg smell.

While waiting for my next bus out of town, I spent an hour watching some old people play lawn bowling. Yes, lawn bowling. And it was a lot more interesting than netball.

HAMILTON/WAITOMO

My mother's roommate from Massey, Janis Swan, lives in Hamilton. Hers was the only non-Vietnamese family I stayed with. Hamilton is a town with very little to see (though of course it had a university--I think there's one in every city in New Zealand!). But just outside of town are the Waitomo Caves, home of Black Water Rafting. If you ever get a chance to go Black Water Rafting, by all means do it! It was one of the most memorable things I've done in my life.

Black Water Rafting is a very unique way of exploring caves. You put on a wetsuit (make sure you're in good shape before you go--those wetsuits are not flattering!), grab a big inner tube, and float along with your group through a pitch-black cave on an underground river, lit only by the battery-powered lamps on your helmets. Sometimes the water is shallow and you simply walk with your inner tube. A few places require jumps down waterfalls. The best part was "eeling up," when we turned off our head lamps, grabbed the legs of the person behind us (forming a human chain), and the tour guides pulled us through a glowworm grotto in complete silence. 30 feet above us, in the middle of the cavern, were thousands of pinpoints of light; a glowworm colony. It was so eerily soothing, I could have stayed in there all day. (The guy behind me kept saying "Neato!" over and over again). It was like being in another world.

AUCKLAND My final destination in New Zealand was Auckland, "City of Sails." "City of Snails" might be more appropriate--traffic on the highways doesn't move at all. Auckland is the one true metropolis in New Zealand (population around one million), and has all the pluses and minuses you would expect from a big city. Life moves faster in Auckland, and it didn't seem as friendly as the rest of New Zealand. While the people of Auckland aren't exactly rude, you get the sense that they have "better things to do" than talk to you.

I arrived at night again, and was met at the train station by Uncle Tu Nguyen, Auntie Lieu, and Vicky, another great family that opened their house to me. Vicky showed me around the next morning before she went to classes at Auckland University. I got to look at my fifth university in New Zealand (and again I got a tour of the rec centre!), then we walked to the Domain (a big, grassy park), where we had an unexpected early morning surprise. Some magazine was doing a photo shoot not far from where we were sitting, and the female model apparently decided that we wouldn't notice if she didn't use a dressing room. I won't go into the sordid details.

After Vicky left for class, I spent the day exploring Auckland on foot. I started at the big war memorial museum, which had an interesting juxtaposition of flashy Maori exhibits and dusty old showcases filled with stuffed monkeys. On special display was "A History of Lingerie," which I attended solely for the educational experience, of course.

I tired myself out walking all over Auckland the rest of the afternoon. Auckland has the best selection of stores and restaurants in the country (I swear there are four bookstores on every block--and I went to half of them), but had seedy parts of town that you wouldn't see in Palmerston North or Hamilton. Still, it was nothing compared to Detroit or Los Angeles.

We all had dinner that night with a good friend of my father's, Uncle Long, and his wife. Then Vicky took me to Bible study, where we met some of her friends before going out on the town. They took me down a hidden road to the shore on the other side of the Harbour Bridge, and we got a nice view of Auckland's city lights, and perhaps a closer view of Auckland's drug dealers. We then went to eat at a Burger King which was more "American" than any thing I've ever seen in America. It was decorated all over with pictures of old cars and old movie stars, and other memorabilia destined to evoke that "American" feeling, at least in people who have never been there. They tell me all New Zealand Burger Kings are like that.

The next day Uncle Tu played host, and took me some of Auckland's tourist spots. My favorite by far was Kelly Tarlton's Underwater World, which I thought was great--it was nice as a walk-through aquarium, but I particularly liked the penguin display in the Antarctic World section. We then went to MOTAT, the Museum of Transportation, Technology, and Social History. You would think it would be called MOTTASH these days. I think "Social History" was added just so they could accept more junk. There's a lot of interesting stuff there, primarily if you're interested in old vehicles, but the museum seemed to be in dire need of additional funding. It's a little run down, and not laid out very well.

That night I went out with Vicky and her friends again to a western beach. I was told that the West Coach beaches were special because they had black sand. Well, considering it was the dead of night, it looked black to me. I'm sure they're very nice during the day.

After returning to Sydney for a week, I made one last stop in Auckland on my way back to San Francisco. This time, I was shown around by Katrina Bui, who made the giant sacrifice of skipping classes to be my personal guide. Or was I doing her the favor? She was a blast. She graciously indulged my request to go on a search for tacky souvenirs for my friends at home, and took me to more of the tourist sites I had missed, like One Tree Hill (which is, of course, a hill with one tree on top of it) and the new downtown casino, home of the Southern Hemisphere's third tallest tower, or something silly like that. All too soon, it was time for Katrina and the Nguyens to see me off at the airport, and then, sadly, my trip was at an end.

CONCLUSION

As nice as everyone in New Zealand was, I think the Vietnamese in New Zealand were the friendliest of all. Without exception, everyone I stayed with was incredibly good to me and made me feel like part of the family. I wish I could repay the favor. If any of you are reading this, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

I really regret that I don't speak Vietnamese. I've told myself that I need to learn, and I've started studying several times, but it's hard to keep myself motivated (just like it was in school). I'm hoping to visit Viet Nam very soon. Going to the country, I'll be forced to learn the language. And maybe I'll figure out how to use chopsticks the Vietnamese way so no one laughs at me anymore. And maybe I'll write another 7ND column about that trip, too.

POSTSCRIPT

My roommate moved out two months ago, and I now have a big apartment in San Francisco all to myself. If anyone is planning to visit and needs a place to stay, feel free to give me a call.

Eric Huynh