You Say Mt. Ngauruhoe; I Say Mt. DOOM

Before I could hike Mt. Doom, I had to conquer Lake Taupo and its hostel, The Tiki Lodge. The Tiki Lodge became our group’s Hotel California as we waited for the Tongariro Alpine Crossing—host to Mt. Doom—to open. After three days of purgatory the hostel released us to the mountain with good grace and the parting gift of Naomi.

Naomi is a Welsh English literature major on holiday in New Zealand from her study abroad program in Sydney which she’s doing in conjunction with her university in Ireland. At nineteen, she’s hitch-hiking NZ alone, staying in hostels and in strangers’ houses who invite her in and catching rides with people like us, who happen to be going in the same direction, in this case: the Tongariro Alpine Crossing.

Though hundreds do the Crossing every day, very few people attempt Mt. Doom. Its formidable slope and lack of standard path, utterly lacking solid footholds, are enough to intimidate most. At the top of the climb, steam rolls over the rocky edge and a precarious walk around the slim ridge reveals volcanic-heated rocks, a large patch of snow, and the red crater of Mt. Doom. Surfing down was the highlight of my journey thus far. I’ve never felt so formidable, so euphoric—rocks tumbling past me, inertia unstoppable, my balance shifting second by tilting second as I charged down the insane slope. Exhilarations galore!

But I’m missing the real story. My dad calls my current state sensory over-load. I’m so bamboozled by beautiful vista after vista that I’m in danger of missing the details that make them beautiful. One amazing moment crowds the previous out of the way like old Korean ladies jockeying for a seat on the subway. One day I see the low rolling hills of Hobbiton and the next, I’m hiking volcanoes. The next is a ferry and the next, a silver-gold coastal road before green-laden mountains followed by glaciers and waterfalls and fjords. On and on and somehow I feel more tired than ever.

Naomi, the welsh girl with us, read an essay once about travel. Title and author were long-forgotten, but the main point stuck with her: the best places you travel aren’t the most amazing or even the most memorable. The best places are the ones that touch your heart and feed your creativity. They are the places with enough magic to swell your soul and leave you breathless for even a moment.

Enough wordy wandering. What I mean is this:

Mt. Doom was amazing, but Naomi took my breath away. I think it was her bravery, the way she embraced the prodigal son of life with an attentive smile.

She has a dorky, lilting laugh and white-blond hair. She likes rainy days because they make her feel creative and thinks miserable Irish mornings are perfect because they mean a cozy cup of tea with friends afterward. She wants to raise a family in Ireland eventually, but she feels silly that she’s already found her favorite place in the world so soon and intends to continue traveling. She likes Harry Potter, worries about having a job after undergrad, and she misses her young step-brothers.

She disappeared before I thought to say goodbye—hitching a ride with a couple of Asian girls on our shuttle from the mountains. I’ll never see her again, like I’ll never hike Mt. Doom again. But unlike Mt. Doom, I feel like I owe her something.

“Thank-you” sounds trite, and an ode seems sycophantic or untenably romantic. Perhaps I can simply wish her well here on this silly little blog, and pray that she continues to inspire others the way she has, unaccountably, inspired me.

A Hobbiton How-To

Everything You Need to Know for your Trip to the Shire

Good Morning! What do I mean by that? If you don’t know, you need to study up on your Tolkien before you revisit this post—or at least before you visit the Shire![1]

Hobbiton, a town of Middle Earth’s Shire, is found fifteen minutes outside of the tiny New Zealand town of Matamata on the north island. According to legend (i.e. my sloppy-haired, sunny-smiling tour guide Carolyn) the location was the third to last of 159 possible locations on Peter Jackson’s shortlist that fulfilled all three of his requirements: rolling hills as described in the books, an enormous rounded-top tree, and a lake adjacent to said tree.

For Lord of the Rings fans who come to NZ, this tour is a must—particularly since it’s the only affordable and official Lord of the Rings tour in New Zealand. Most others are helicopter rides that show one or two filming locations.

But when visiting a famous place like the Shire, one must be prepared. The HobbitonMovie Set Tours do most of the work: shuttling you to Hobbiton from Matamata, providing knowledgeable tour guides, and serving up Green Dragon’s finest ales. But to fully enjoy the experience and to make the most of your photo opportunities, I’ve provided a packing list for your day trip to the Shire.

Be sure to bring with you:

At Sam's house!

        1.      Camera/Recorder. Duh. But in all seriousness. Go to this tour with a friend or two and make a pact that one person will stay with the tour guide at all times and record what he or she says. Take turns. The guides are gold-mines of information and they welcome questions of all kinds and field them like pros. But if you want to take fun pictures during the tour, you will undoubtedly miss a good chunk of the tour since half of it is informal questions and tidbits. I and my travel companions spent the entire tour dancing between dorky pictures and gleaning every drop of trivia from our friendly guide.

        2.      Tolkien Knowledge. If possible, read up and watch up before you go. Lucky for me, I fell into the Tolkien craze during my middle school and high school years when I had abundant time for obsessions and a young brain still able to soak up absurd details and hold onto them for years. A solid familiarity with both books and the movie will only enhance your trip to the Shire.

        3.      Picture Props: You’re on a major movie set; don’t miss the opportunity to snap all of the stupidest pictures you’ve ever wanted to take. Most of the set is hobbit holes—including Bag End and Sam’s house—of varying sizes. You don’t want the same picture again and again (but this time the door is yellow! this time blue!), so to spice up your photos, have the following:

a.       Prepared Photo Ideas. The tour goes fast and the next tour is coming in behind you (unless you get the last one of the day, which I recommend: fewer people, slower time schedule), so take Jeremy Irons’ advice and be prepared! You don’t have time to hem and haw.

b.      One Ring.  Even if your ring wasn’t forged in the fires of Mt. Doom, you should at least be able to find a plain replica: gold, with ancient Elvish markings which delineate something along the lines of one ring to rule them all. For the A+ students, bring an envelope as well. Prior to your arrival, practice in your best Gandalf voice: Keep it secret. Keep it safe.

c.       A Pipe. And perhaps a leaf of Old Toby to smoke outside of Bag End. Prior to your arrival, practice your smoke rings. It’s all about the ambiance.

        4.      LotR Soundtracks and Speakers on which to play them. I cannot emphasize this enough. Humming doo-doo-do-do-do-dodududoo as you stroll up and down Hobbiton’s grassy paths is fun, but it is not the same as listening to the official tin whistle solo. I have been itching for my violin ever since I got here to Middle Earth.

In all seriousness, visiting Hobbiton was a blast. New Zealand’s landscape brings Middle Earth to life without any help from the cameras or set-builders, but when you see Hobbiton up-close and examine the detail crafted into the movie set, the result is truly inspiring.[2] It also confirmed my suspicions that I would have grown up quite happily as a hobbit. I will one day have a hobbit door. And hopefully live near to a pub as quintessentially pub-like as the Green Dragon.

So, Good Morning! Even if you’re not a hobbit like me, come visit the Shire! Elves, Ents, and all a manner of folk welcome!

Carolyne, our tour guide and barkeep.

Cider, at the Green Dragon.

My 'Hood.

---

[1] “Good morning!” said Bilbo, and he meant it. The sun was shining, and the grass was very green. But Gandalf looked at him from under long bushy eyebrows that stuck out further than the brim of his shady hat. “What do you mean?” he said. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good thir morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?” “All of them at once,” said Bilbo.

[2] P.S. You write like what you read. Can you tell I’ve been doing nothing but keeping up with travel guidebooks for the past week and a half? Traveling is exhausting! But at least I’m better at driving these days. ^^

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Adventure

            There was a lot at stake for The Hobbit. Would it live up to its Lord of the Rings predecessors? Would Jackson remain true to Tolkien’s work? What lore would he include? Did he have enough to work with for three movies?

            I’ve none of the real credentials of a Stephen-Colbert-level aficionado, but since reading and loving The Hobbit in elementary school and LotR parallel the movies, I’ve become something of an admirer of Peter Jackson and his adaptations. Like many Tolkien-lovers, I watched the first installment of my favorite Tolkien book with baited breath, anxiously asking the questions above.

Good Morning!

            The short answer? Yes. Jackson’s done it again: he’s given us Middle Earth in all its fictional glory. The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey was three hours of relief to those of us who missed Middle Earth the past decade since Return of the King came out in 2003.

            The star-studded cast was everything we hoped: McKellan, Weaving, and Serkis are brilliant in their reprised roles. Martin Freeman might actually be Bilbo Baggins, as far as I’m concerned, and Bret McKenzie (Flight of the Conchords) was delightfully present as Elrond’s bitch elf. Richard Armitage and his sexy-enough-to-rival-Benedict Cumberbatch’s-voice gave Thorin the nuanced delivery he deserved, and Aidan Turner’s (Kili) smile has given fangirls like myself something about besides Orlando Bloom to twitter about.

            The deep choir theme for the dwarves called us all back to the hills of New Zealand starting with its mysterious Far Over the Misty Mountains Cold. Musical themes were kept and used appropriately, and Howard Shore’s new score masterfully interwove the quirkier folksy songs like the dwarves’ Chip the Glasses without undue cheesiness.

            But this movie was no masterpiece. Flashbacks engaged us Tolkien-lovers, but they dragged the plodding plot off its course. Enjoyable exposition pulled it backward, and delightful interpositions based on Jackson’s previous LotR installments halted it altogether. Frodo has little to no place in his own prequel. Cate Blanchette, Chris Lee, and Ian Holm—though exquisite—were pricey. The brilliance the Unexpected Party and Riddles in the Dark were isolated by relevant but slow backstory.

            The over-developed role of Azog (a compilation of himself and his son Bolg) did wonders for centralizing the antagonist of the story as we wait for Benedict Cumberbatch, but his presence changed the character of the story, upping the violence and drama level in an appropriately Hollywood—but not coming-of-age Hobbit—manner. And who knew P.J. had it in him to turn the barely-mentioned Radagast into Middle Earth’s version of Jar-Jar Binks?

            But in the end—although some of Gandalf’s lines felt recycled and the Goblin King had to go out with a line finally stupider than Legolas’ “A diversion!”—I am grateful.

Thanks, P.J., for another taste of Middle Earth. Thanks for the rock giant battle, for Sting, Orcrist and Glamdring. Thanks for Erebor and the Misty Mountains. Thanks for the stupidity of trolls, the stubbornness of dwarves, and the brave hearts of hobbits. And thanks for two more movies: we can’t wait.

The Road Goes Ever On...