It’s finally happening. The streets are looking the same, blurring into one waste of time. The stares are getting suspicious, no longer filled with kindness. Is it possible that I, Briana Rose Soroko, self-proclaimed traveling junkie, am actually homesick? This revelation startles me. I thought you had to have a home to feel this terrible. Sure enough, my symptoms of loneliness point to this unlikely scenario. So, what should I do?
Find a New Zealander, that’s what.
Mark’s first words to me were, “Excuse me but do you speak English?” to which I replied, “Yes, and so do you.” It was a cup of coffee at first sight. We went to a café that looks suspiciously like Starbucks, and exchanged stories of our travels.
And what adventures he’s had! This is my story, not his, so I won’t go into detail about the woman who’s husband passed away ten days before she stole Mark’s heart and money, but I will mention his current traveling companion, a renegade Buddhist monk who’s having some faith issues.
We discuss philosophy, sex, and- I’ll admit it- I become a bit smitten. I blame it on my passion for Lord of the Rings. Even before I saw the films, I’ve been enchanted with Middle-earth and NZ. They’re my fantasy countries, and here was a character from my dreamland, right beside me.
I desperately want to go to the bar with him to continue our contemplations on existence, and maybe even meet this monk, but have to meet up with my fellow Wisconsinites, to celebrate the New Year. (Readers take note; this is one of many examples I can give on why traveling with a group blows.) As it turns out, they don’t have any plans, so I slyly suggest the bar. This surprises them I’m sure, considering I’m the only one in the group who doesn’t drink, but they heartily agree.
We search for the only bar in town, and find it roughly a mile away. BM Pub, short for Batman, must have been designed after his underground cave. It’s monstrous, with black domed walls towering above us. The stage is empty. The tables are empty. It’s a dance club without customers. No one in their right mind would stay here, and Mark is long gone. I sigh sadly- how quickly romance enters and leaves your life. (Readers take note two; don’t let the love of your life slip away.)
I’m still in good company, and within thirty minutes, the club is packed with people. Chairs are discarded to make room for the crowd, and the music begins. I have no idea what they’re saying. But it’s absolutely perfect. Who needs old New Zealanders and doubting monks? I have Thai pop stars to dance to! I scream the countdown emphatically, laughing that I don’t know 10-1 in Thai.
HAPPY NEW YEARS EVERYBODY!
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