Now When You Call Me A Fruit...Do You Mean A Kiwi?: A Fear Of Santa Clause + Fidel Castro= Claustrophobia

Intro

The screams of my obnoxiously bright tank tops and board shorts disrupted the silence of the desolate Auckland International airport as I strangled them to the bottom of my 80 pound green backpack that could barely contain the struggle. For the countless days of even my sweat sweating had been traded for the frigid winds of New Zealand. The transition was easy you see, not because of my acceptance into Gandalf's You Shall Not Pass University (third best after Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Professor Xavier's School for the Gifted) but because of the outlandish Thai logic that I was confronted with during my last week while in Thailand. But I digress, you already know about my deep rooted hatred toward Thai rationale from how famous my previous

blog

is amongst the illiterate.

Prior to reading this second attempt at a travel journal, you may have some questions that you want answered. And like any crime show or suspenseful movie, I'll answer these mysteries in the beginning rather than wait until the end.

"Why New Zealand?" asks Katie Couric.
Well Kate, frankly it was the cheapest and most viable option. Australia was out of the question as its $400 for a working Holiday Visa, which means its a trillion and something Thai Baht. New Zealand on the other hand, offers free Holiday Visas for U.S. citizens-but you'll have to ask Donald Trump if you fall into that category. Ahhh yes, I forgot...I also hate Asian people.

"Where exactly is this 'New Zealand' you speak of?" implores Anderson Cooper.
I have no idea. I was blindfolded, gagged, and sent to what I believe is an Island. Once Liam Neeson realizes I'm his daughter, I'll have more information on my whereabouts when he finds me.

"What can we expect to read here?" probes Diane Sawyer.
Pretty much a lot of spelling and grammar errors. The consistent incorrect usage of 'then' and 'than.' Really uneventful and monotone writing. Crude and inappropriate humor that most people ponder yet fail to say in fear of social backlash. Cheesy Lord of the Rings references, and of course, interpretive dance demonstrations and their correlation to my bowel movements.

In preparation for further reading, please ensure that your pillows are fluffed and tv tray tables are in their full upright sturdy position, your belt buckle is loose and your pants are fully unbuttoned and all essential items are within arms reach. With this said ladies and gentleman, I hope you enjoy this journey with me...Denzel Washington.

Tuesday, 26 January 2016

A Fear Of Santa Clause + Fidel Castro= Claustrophobia

The sounds of deep breaths echoed throughout the darkness as stalactites loomed above, yearning to stab me in the back at a centurial rate. The claustrophobia was barely tolerable as I slowly excreted gas from my anus that smothered the crisp cool air and turned the cave into a literal gas chamber. The strawberry milkshake the day before was a poor idea.

This adventure to the Waipu caves was not for the faint hearted as we crawled through numbing stagnant water and contorted our bodies like Chinese gymnasts to fit through the narrow crevices. The pathway farther into the cave was not outlined by a yellow brick road, but instead, was undefined and paved with curiosity.