Finding routine in a faraway place
Or, what New Zealand taught me about finding adventure at home
You can’t walk across the Harbour Bridge in Auckland unless you’re also planning to jump off it – attached to a bungy cord, of course. Standing at the edge of the bridge myself, “caveman brain” did not fully grasp the concept of extreme sports. I sought comfort against the groundrush I was feeling by thinking about how thousands of other people before me participated in this ridiculous adventure in the country where commercial bungy jumping first started. I found myself about to jump off this bridge, and jump into NZ more broadly, as part of an MIT International Science and Technology Initiatives (MISTI) internship with Air New Zealand.
Before my short train to New York and then my 17.5 hour flight (the 7th-longest flight in the world!) to Auckland, I had not left the greater Boston area for an entire semester. My master’s thesis was due, and I had established quite the routine. I had a go-to running route on the esplanade that I repeated 55 times throughout the semester; I had go-to coffee shops (shoutout to Bloc and Smoot Cafe) to work on thesis-writing with the other graduating students in my lab every Sunday; and I had my go-to takeout spot, Sugar and Spice, where I ordered the same drunken noodles dish each time to fuel evenings of writing and rewriting. By the time my thesis was submitted, diploma (case) in hand, and bags packed, I was so ready for something new that I did not even object to experiencing winter for the second time that year.
Adventure came easily while I was 9000 miles away from Boston and in good company with other MISTI students. At the start of my internship my roommate, Sarah, and I created a Google Maps list to save places we wanted to see, which quickly accumulated over 250 addresses. Like many other MIT undergrads, Sarah was well acquainted with MISTI. She had already strategized most of her summers and IAP periods to participate in several experiences abroad through the program, whereas I stumbled upon the NZ opportunity by happenstance and luck when I saw an e-flyer for the airline internship, which aligned with my field of study as a grad student.
Participating in MISTI is an excellent opportunity for global travel, so long as you balance your internship and academic demands with your touristic ambitions. Throughout my 10-week internship, I often felt like I was living a double life: intern during working hours, Professional Tourist by night… and on weekends. Sarah and I probably found every single experience that could be booked within a ~5 hour bus radius from Auckland. We got to visit Hobbiton; saw geothermal activity in Roturoa; went to a Polynesian spa; experienced the road among sheep, rolling hills, rivers, and lakes; went all the way up north to Cape Reinga where the calm Pacific Ocean meets the rowdy Tasman Sea; and saw glowworms in the Waitomo caves. We even did a walking tour to see kiwi birds in the wild, which entailed taking four buses and then partaking in the fun, but slightly irresponsible, tradition of hitchhiking with other Professional Tourists to Tāwharanui Regional Park. Booking experiences became such a regular occurrence that I eventually had to create a new category within my budget called “adventures.” There were just so many new things to do!
Looking up at the night sky at Tāwharanui, I truly realized just how far away I was from my grad school home of Cambridge. Here, everything was so different, even the stars. Orion was upside down, the Northern Star was absent entirely (located somewhere below our feet, facing the other side of the planet), and the Southern Cross shone brightly to help stargazers locate the South Pole. In this new place, routine felt harder to establish. But I still had to live the non-tourist part of my double life. I lived a quotidian existence Mondays through Fridays of commuting to work, cooking, and exercising (I wanted to maintain the running routine I had established back home), but it was a challenge. Wintertime in New Zealand meant that all of my runs would be outside of daylight hours, and the park closest to me was often pitch dark when I was running. I got lost the first several times I ran there, and my Boston-honed fitness level was no match for the elevation gain of Auckland’s volcanic hills.
It took me a while but through repetition, I finally got the hang of daily life. I eventually started looking to my right before crossing the street (because cars drive on the other side of the road from the US!), and I joined other runners carrying headlamps on their morning runs. I even started emails with Kia ora (“hello” in Māori). I was slowly becoming a “local”. I knew which dairies (corner stores) had my favorite Kiwi snacks, and I had a go-to coffee order (a flat white) and a go-to takeaway spot for kebab on chips (fries). Even running up and down volcanoes became easier as I adjusted, and the hills that I initially despised became some of my favorite running routes. Going from always trying a new spot to having regular haunts felt like an important transition during my time in Auckland. It meant that my Professional Tourist title was slowly wearing off, and I embraced “living like a local.”
Being labeled a “tourist” is often used as an insult by the locals of “destinations,” places that travelers want to flock to. Sure, when you first arrive in a new place, doing touristy things is excused, even encouraged. But is there a threshold at which it becomes gauche to be touristing? After how many weeks in a place is it more important to establish a routine and “go where the locals go” than to maximize the amount of sightseeing you can fit into a sleep-deprived day? Maybe having the tourist experience alongside living like a local is possible. Maybe tourists serve as a reminder to locals to stay adventurous, even during the mundanity of routine. One of my favorite activities throughout my entire internship was an impromptu trip to a local beach when a few of my coworkers and I drove to Piha Beach with no agenda other than Being There. There was no walking tour, no commentary, no bus ticket to be booked, and it even rained for a little bit. We played cricket in the black sands and we sat and ate cookies from the supermarket. We braved the cold to go for a (short) swim, undeterred by the winter weather, to fit in a little bit of adventure into a local trip. What was an experience of a lifetime for me was also an opportunity for my coworkers to experience their own home outside of a routine.
The months that followed the internship were filled with unfair comparisons between Boston and Auckland. I became the “study abroad” cliché who couldn’t stop talking about studying abroad. It got so bad that when I went on a 4-mile running first date with someone, my friend made a point to ask me how long it took before I brought up New Zealand (it was at mile ~2.5, thank you very much). While I miss Auckland, my trip across the world showed me that you don’t have to be a tourist to seek adventures. I already made a Google Maps bucket list for Boston, and it has 190 places.
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