Its OK not to like paradise.

Location: Lake Taupo, NZ  Rides: here 

Since Auckland I had a shitty ride in Tauranga. I chased that with a shitty ride in Rotorua, although my hotel room did have an awesome view of the lake, shielded in the foreground nicely by a Pizza Hut.  I was also tempted by the pokies (slot machines) apparently, since my bank statement tells me so. I had meant to update with some doozies in the meanwhile, but I have been in wifi drought for three days, so those thoughts are behind me now. It took me almost two hours just to map out my ride today since I had to drive around town looking for wifi, then four times it cut out on me. I was the guy sitting outside the supermarket in the orange Ssangyong rental car cursing all of creation. 

I will admit, New Zealand has not been my bag of apples so far. And that’s just fine with me. I am not on vacation. If I were only here for a week or so and it was the first time out of the states or something, I would be gobsmacked. But I am not a tourist, and I am not a college backpacker; I am a traveler. There is a difference. 

Oh, you went bungee jumping in New Zealand? Yeah, I did that at the Jersey Shore when I was an idiot. 

Dani and I in the swimming hole. 

No, I will not be bush buggying or whitewater rafting or skydiving or anything else New Zealand is known for. Not because they are not awesome things to do, but because I don’t particularly want to, and I am not the kind of person to do things I don’t want to.

Especially lately, in light of having to do quite a bit of "work" things lately, like jumping through ridiculous hoops held by moronic robots. I must, so I do, although I get closer to understanding why tigers in captivity eventually rip someones head off. 

No, I am here for the hidden treasures, not where billboards direct me. I suck more flavor out of a place in a 50 mile bike ride than any tourist could hope to in a week of animal parks, zip-flys and geothermal soaks. That's not me being highbrow, although it may come off that way, that's just saying what I think I know to be true.  

And I know now, after traveling for half of each year, that it is perfectly ok to admit to not liking a place.  

I want swims in crystal clear swimming holes that I spy through a break in the grass by the side of the road, and I want to lay back on the warm stone by the side of the stream and let the water flow over my feet, I want to see the full moon come up over a mountain at 10PM and feel dizzy at how quickly it ascends into the sky, I want rides that challenge me and make me sing to myself and get out of my saddle and take pictures that fully capture my happiness like the one you see directly southeast of this sentence. 

I don’t want to shit on “adventure style” travel, because I realize I have a lot of time, and that most do not, and that when I take quick trips with my friends, we do all that hackneyed stuff and it’s a blast.

For example, my first time in Spain with three guy friends on a golf trip about 6 years ago; I can’t really tell you that it wouldn’t have mattered if we had just stayed in the US. Honestly, our inability to properly converse with Spanish strippers was probably the closest we had to a cultural moment. 

The last couple of days have turned me around 180 degrees. The riding has been spectacular and I’ve been inspired. I also have a travel companion for three days, a girl I met through a friend in LA when I was there last January. Our itineraries just matched up, and its been glorious. I talk the same amount, just less to myself. 

In two days, I drive to Wellington for a night and then the next morning I go to the South Island. I will spend more time in Wellington on the way back, but for now, I need to escape from the escape. I need less. Less people, less traffic, less Burger Kings and more snow capped mountains, less cities and more shires. 

Right now, in Taupo there is an Ironman still going on. And at this point, 14 hours after everyone hit the water at 7AM, this incessant saying from the announcer echoes across the lake as the last stragglers come in: “Jack Mulligan, YOU are an IRONMAN,” and “Here he is, 73 years old, from Japan, Hiro Nishiki…..YOU are an IRONMAN!” People across that lake are experiencing, possibly, their biggest life achievement. 

I don’t get tired of hearing it, although I hope everyone is finished by the time I decide to go to bed. 

Hey look, someone else besides me took a picture of me! First one this trip!