48 hours and counting

"The adventurer gives in to tides of chaos, trusts the world to support her-- and in doing so turns her back on the fear and obedience she has been taught. She rejects the indoctrination of impossibility. My adventure is a struggle for freedom"
-Hib and Kika, Off the Map

So. I'm leaving in two days. I recognize both the imminence and the gravity of the situation, but panic, stress, and fear haven't set in yet (and perhaps they won't?) I think I'm comfortably secure enough in my skills of self-preservation to recognize that the next two months will be a piece of cake, albeit with the help of the pervasive eco-tourism industry that NZ plays host to. They're used to travelers and I'll be inundated by resources. The only resource that I won't have access to, and one that has been my primary safety net over the past four years, will be the radical community. From my exterior, probably flawed, observations it seems that New Zealand lacks one and ultimately has little need for one, anyway, as their politics are peculiarly neutral. While traveling in practically any other part of the 'free world' I would have access to a network of anarchists and punks that would be able to lend a hand, or squats for last minute housing. Perhaps it's not that NZ lacks this facet, but it will be extraordinarily harder to find than in, say, Barcelona. This deprivation of my comfort zone is probably a good thing-- I am being forced to see the world through a different lens than usual.

I've finished packing, only to find that my possessions for the next 2.5 months are extraordinarily light. It's pretty cathartic to reassess which objects act as luxuries and which I consider necessities. This process was shocking even for me, who consumes far less that the average American does.
Chaos of packing:


I'm leaving at 6PM on the 28th, but thanks to severe time differences and an unfortunately long layover in LA, I won't be landing in Auckland until the morning of the 30th. I'm losing a day!