Kiwis don’t rinse the soap suds off their dishes before placing them in the rack to dry, and I’m ready to hypothesize that some sort of related glycerin buildup in the brain is what’s causing so many people down under to hallucinate that mullets are fashionable. Maybe it’s the Eurotrash influence, too. I’d rant about the crocs, but that particular epidemic is scorching the States as well.

As did Troy in Amsterdam, I heard Mambo #5 on a ‘modern hits’ radio station while on the freeway in Auckland. Tangentially, it seems kids my age have yet to get past the house techno that the Bay Area so thoroughly wore out in the 90s. I tried to name-drop Justice or SebastiAn, but if it doesn’t have a Roland 505 with the Cliché knob set to MAX, I guess some people just can’t be bothered. To be fair, I saw hordes of Keffiyeh-wearing hipsters in Wellington, but I was too shy to throw myself at them and ask about the latest Iron & Wine album like a lost, dehydrated waif begging for water at the edge of a desert oasis.

Meanwhile, I’m more tan than I’ve been in years, and am running, so to speak—trying to stay ahead of the throbbing, ominous thunderhead of existential crisis gathering on the horizon. (A very common theme for young adults, really, and I invoke it mostly in jest. Mostly.) I never thought living out of a suitcase for weeks on end could come so easily to an anal-retentive bore like me.

“Gulp down a teaspoon of kerosene and chase it with a glass of milk two to three days before you go tramping. In time, it starts to seep out of your skin and the little buggers won’t even land on you.”

That was yesterday’s advice on preventing sand fly attacks, provided by the chain-smoking, half drunk restaurateur whose Thai cafe was doing brisk business in the tourist district of Christchurch. The tiny bastards are stealthy, and unlike mosquitoes (aka ‘mozzies’), you often won’t even know you’ve been bit until the telltale itchy welt greets you the next morning.

Other than the half-dozen or so bites I’m trying (and failing) to ignore, things are peachy. Just a few days ago we were kayaking off the coast of Abel Tasman National Park, sharing the warm water with seals and five-foot stingrays before bedding down on a floating hostel alongside a bevy of cliquish Germans, a couple Brits, a couple Frogs, and a jolly Swiss gal.

We’re in Akaroa now, whose French flavor compliments Christchurch’s English pride (although not historically, as the two countries originally competed to colonize these islands). My little brother departed for the states this morning, and I’m blissfully relaxed after spending last night pounding out some freelance work which had been keeping me preoccupied.

Manly March is just around the corner. Ready yourselves.

I flew the coop. I left San Diego. The mourning process was exhausting, and I miss my friends already.

I’m in New Zealand now, and things have been fantastic so far. We’re staying at a quaint motel in Thames—a tiny town just south of Coromandel—and I should make this quick because it’s late and the free wi-fi is spotty.

Auckland is pretty and reminds me of Vancouver—lots of tall, modern buildings and fobby asians. Even though I’ve only been a passenger so far, driving on the opposite side of the road was quite unsettling for the first day. My cousins are great, and the bars and clubs they showed us make me miss North Park (RIP Scolari’s). King’s Cup has slightly different rules here, the drinking age is 18, and you can drink on the street or in a car if you’re a passenger. Bars stay open all night. Gratuities do not exist.

It’s warm and humid here, but I’m enjoying it because the snow that greeted me as I drove to my parents’ house in Norcal was a pain in the ass. I’m already a bit sunburned, though—the ozone layer is thin down here.

Things that are disappointing: Comic Sans on shop signs, no turning at a red light, and fat people. (The fatties are preventing me from pretending that this is Europe.) Also, it’s pretty heartbreaking to see dead hedgehogs on the side of the road.

Onward! I’ll probably groom this post later. Maybe.