the fun continues

What do you get when you go kayaking, hiking, caving, rafting, dancing, and drinking for four days straight? You get hungover. And sore. And sick.

Day five: Rotorua. Still.

Our first bus had moved on down the line, and we were stalled in Rotorua with sore throats and sore bodies. But we were quite happy to have two mornings to sleep in and one and a half days to take it easy and recharge before getting on the next bus. We took naps and shopped and went to bed early for once. Rotorua is known for its sulfuric smell due to geothermal activity in abundance. Every once in a while I’d get a big whiff of the eggy treat Rotorua offers, but it never really bothered me too much.

Day six: finally leaving Rotorua and heading to Taupo, skydiving capital of the world.

Lake Taupo is NZ’s biggest lake with a perimeter of 100 miles, and the skydiving center is right next to it. I was a little worried about skydiving because of how terrifying I found bungee jumping to be, but I honestly thought I might like skydiving better. When you bungee, you’re all trussed up like a turkey, standing on a concrete ledge with your toes peeking over the edge with nothing to hold on to besides the bungee staff who won’t even let you hold on to them for very long. Trust me. I tried.

Still, the idea of falling out of a plane at 15,000 feet was enough to make my heart pound. On the way, the bus stopped for a little scenic view of Huka Falls, which famously pumps enough water every three seconds to fill an Olympic-sized swimming pool.

A limo from the skydive company came to pick up the four of us who were diving.

Our bus driver pulled us aside right before we left and said, “Listen, you guys should know that the instructors over at the skydiving place might not be as enthusiastic as they normally are. There was an accident over at Fox Glacier yesterday. The skydive plane blew up just after take off. You shouldn’t be worried about your plane or anything, but I just wanted to warn you guys that they might be a little more somber than they normally are because some of their friends died yesterday.”

GULP

Jess and I exchanged slightly worried looks. And then we got in the limo. Hi, mom! Oh I didn't tell you about that little tidbit? Oops! We're safe and sound!

I hear that some skydive companies spend a bit of time giving instructions to the jumpers, but at Skydive Taupo, your tandem partner points to a photograph on the wall of an instructor and a jumper mid-air, says “Look like that. Feet close together, arms out, back arched. Like a banana. Can you be a banana?” And that’s the end of your lesson.

Heading out to the little pink plane, they took lots of photos of us, obviously available for purchase later. We loaded up, and then I realized that my tandem partner and I were the last people to get in the plane. Which meant that I would be first out. Eep. I began to worry about whether or not first out would have been my preference, and then I told myself to shut up because regardless of when I fell out of the plane, I was still going to be FALLING OUT OF A FREAKING PLANE.

The little plane climbs climbs climbs; the view is breathtaking; my heart is a kick drum.

I warned my instructor down on the ground that I was going to be scared. “I really want to do this,” I said. “But I’m going to be really scared. I won’t freak out, but I’m going to be scared. Just take control.” He nodded and said, “Not a problem.”

The orders are simple. Hold onto your harness. Tip your head back so it’s on the instructor’s shoulder. After you’re out of the plane and situated, put your arms out when the instructor taps you on the shoulder. I repeat the directions in my head. I’m strapped to my instructor, facing forward on the plane, sitting on the floor, waiting to reach altitude. Everyone else faces us. He says, “Your friend keeps looking at you. She’s giving you the thumbs up.”

“Oh. Ha. That’s because she thinks I’m going to freak out,” I reply. “But I’m not going to freak out.”

He jokes with a mostly-gone German accent, “You can freak out if you want to. It doesn’t really matter either way to me.”

And then the pilot yells something. And then the other instructors throw up gang signs which must mean it’s time. My instructor rolls up the accordion door. He’s twice as big as me and I’m strapped tightly to him, so when he spins me around, scooting me toward the open door, my little legs dangle out over the edge of the door and my sneakers blow in the wind. FUCK OH MY GOD OH MY GOD THIS IS HAPPENINNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGG

And then we’re out. I’m falling. He flips me up so we’re looking at the plane, bright pink and growing smaller. Then he turns us head down, dive-bombing toward the clouds. The noise is incredible in both volume and texture. My ears begin to hurt. The wind lashes at my face and hands. Even in gloves I feel my fingers getting cold, losing feeling. We were promised over 60 seconds of free fall time. It definitely feels like it to me as I start to wonder just when he’ll pull the parachute. And then he does, and my legs fly up in front of me like I'm a rag doll. My ears are killing me. “How was that?” he asks.

“My ears are fucked up!” I yell back, unable to control my volume because I can barely hear anything.

“Just hold your nose and blow to equalize the pressure,” he suggests. Oh. Duh. Altitude. I blow and blow and blow, and it’s a little better, not quite as painful, but my ears would be screwed up for about three days.

Once the parachute is out, he loosens a couple of harnesses, adjusts the loops around my thighs, and gets me in a sitting position for sightseeing. The lake is just breathtaking. It’s a partly cloudy day, which is nice because it’s not blindingly bright, and the scenery is just gorgeous as sunlight peeks through over the lake and hills. This, I keep thinking, is why people skydive here. He narrates what he’s doing and points out some sights. “I’m going to do some turns now, if that's okay with you,” he warns me. And then we’re spinning, my body nearly horizontal as he steers. We do turns in the wind, and I giggle wildly. The other three divers, including Jesse, are up above me, coasting and spinning with multicolored chutes.

Then it was over, and we were all on the ground, laughing and high fiving. They try to sell us our photos and show us the videos they took of two of the other divers. Jess and I both elected not to have a video taken of us. After seeing the videos they took of the others, I don’t regret that decision. Especially since it was a decision that saved me $150 worth of embarrassing video footage of me looking unattractive. One of the divers did buy the photos, and I acquired these from his facebook page.

Then we were off to the hostel to clean up for a dinner date. Back in the states before I left for study abroad, my good friend from college, Gretchen, mentioned that her ex-boss’s son lives in a city called Taupo and that I should try to visit him if I was ever nearby. As soon as I got a look at the bus map and saw that Taupo was a stop, I got Seth’s contact info from Gretchen and we started emailing. I gave him our tentative dates, and we exchanged phone numbers. Gretchen went on and on about what a sweet guy Seth was and how amazing it would be if we actually got to meet up in NZ. And then we did!

He works at a restaurant in Taupo and happened to have the night off that we were there. Seth and his coworker were having a farewell dinner at their restaurant since she was off to her next adventure, and Jess and I joined right in. Delicious food and great company. After a nice long dinner, we went to meet up with a bunch of our bus people and some of the skydive staff at a local Irish pub. You know how I love a good Irish pub, you guys. Seth was amped to get to play foosball with other Americans and turned out to be just as darling as Gretchen had promised. Sweet, sweet night.