Once or twice a year the U.S. Consulate in New Zealand travels from their home office in Auckland down to Christchurch.
The meeting place for their services is at the departing terminal for the U.S. Antarctic Program.
I had an appointment to go and sign the paperwork for my son so he could get his Certificate of Birth Abroad and U.S. passport.
I arrived at the location early and this gave me time to look over the facilities.
There was a post office to send packages and mail down to loved ones at the bottom of the world.
Just past this was another office with maps of Antarctica and departure instructions for visitors.
Beyond that was the clothing distribution center where participants get all their heavy duty cold proof gear and smart red jackets.
Around the corner was the actual departure terminal for Antarctica.
The hallway to the check-in counter was lined with clear photographs of polar landscapes and penguins.
Flags of many nations hung from the ceiling.
There was a baggage x-ray machine and a poster showing prohibited carry on items. (Even carefully screened program participants aren't immune from suspicion of terrorism it seems.)
Across from the desk was a large room with theater seats and a movie screen. Above the seats hung a long wooden dog sled.
On one wall there were more polar photographs and on another there were images of the different aircraft that had flown Antarctic missions since 1955.
I wasn't going to Antarctica and yet, I felt a thrill being in that place as if others before me had left some sort of emotional imprint.
I could just imagine what it would be like to go.
It would be like that scene at the end of Close Encounters of the Third Kind where selected individuals get a briefing before they go off into the unknown.
Prior to my consular appointment I had seen a large hangar with "United States Antarctic Program" written on it.
I had also seen the U.S. Air Force C-17 fly over my house on its way down to McMurdo base. The drone of its engine is distinctive and it flies a different path than other planes.
I visited the International Antarctic Center recently and went inside a frozen room with snow in it where they recreate winter storm conditions from the region.
There were certain areas to hide from the wind gusts but I thought I would be a badass and sit on a snowmobile near the center of the room.
The room got dark, powerful fans turned on and the temperature dropped several degrees below freezing. A recording of the howling winds was played and bits of snow hit my face. I soon regretted not taking refuge in the igloo or gust proof regions of the room.
Another display area featured videos of scientist pulling up all sorts of creatures from the deep and talking about how they had developed methods for surviving their extreme environment.
I recalled that one of my professors at Lincoln had been down to Antarctica and talked about how wary the people living at the bases are of newcomers. Apparently things can get pretty strained when you're cooped up in one space for a long time.
There was a display at the Center on how people living at the bases fight depression and boredom.
I hoped it might be possible to hitch a ride down with the crew on the C-17 but the National Science Foundation- which handles the funding for U.S. missions- makes it clear that they don't do that sort of thing.
I don't know why I have suddenly developed this strong urge to see Antarctica. It was unexpected.
I started looking at ways to get funding and an invitation to go down.
I knew I would never qualify to go there and "do a science" unless it was a social science and after my professor's description I can only imagine that my close observation would make people's paranoia act up.
I also think I would be a prime candidate for the early onset of cabin fever.
In case you are wondering how to get down to the southern-most continent, www.usap.gov has the details.
They take engineers, pilots, scientists, service specialists (such as a cooks) and artists,
I think the last category would be the only one I would have a chance at and even then, it definitely would not be for poetry.
Roses are red, violets are blue
There's lots of snow here, and penguins too
Perhaps the appeal of the place is that is holds so much undiscovered wonder and is still relatively difficult to get to.
A few flights from Australia that will go over the region for an exorbitant fee but they don't land there.
Cruises down there are really expensive and sea conditions make land exploration unpredictable.
I guess I better start working on my painting, photography and poetry skills.
Perhaps I could write a musical called "Antarctica!"
It worked for a U.S. state so why not a whole continent?
The meeting place for their services is at the departing terminal for the U.S. Antarctic Program.
I had an appointment to go and sign the paperwork for my son so he could get his Certificate of Birth Abroad and U.S. passport.
I arrived at the location early and this gave me time to look over the facilities.
There was a post office to send packages and mail down to loved ones at the bottom of the world.
Just past this was another office with maps of Antarctica and departure instructions for visitors.
Beyond that was the clothing distribution center where participants get all their heavy duty cold proof gear and smart red jackets.
Around the corner was the actual departure terminal for Antarctica.
The hallway to the check-in counter was lined with clear photographs of polar landscapes and penguins.
Flags of many nations hung from the ceiling.
There was a baggage x-ray machine and a poster showing prohibited carry on items. (Even carefully screened program participants aren't immune from suspicion of terrorism it seems.)
Across from the desk was a large room with theater seats and a movie screen. Above the seats hung a long wooden dog sled.
On one wall there were more polar photographs and on another there were images of the different aircraft that had flown Antarctic missions since 1955.
I wasn't going to Antarctica and yet, I felt a thrill being in that place as if others before me had left some sort of emotional imprint.
I could just imagine what it would be like to go.
It would be like that scene at the end of Close Encounters of the Third Kind where selected individuals get a briefing before they go off into the unknown.
Prior to my consular appointment I had seen a large hangar with "United States Antarctic Program" written on it.
I had also seen the U.S. Air Force C-17 fly over my house on its way down to McMurdo base. The drone of its engine is distinctive and it flies a different path than other planes.
I visited the International Antarctic Center recently and went inside a frozen room with snow in it where they recreate winter storm conditions from the region.
There were certain areas to hide from the wind gusts but I thought I would be a badass and sit on a snowmobile near the center of the room.
The room got dark, powerful fans turned on and the temperature dropped several degrees below freezing. A recording of the howling winds was played and bits of snow hit my face. I soon regretted not taking refuge in the igloo or gust proof regions of the room.
Another display area featured videos of scientist pulling up all sorts of creatures from the deep and talking about how they had developed methods for surviving their extreme environment.
I recalled that one of my professors at Lincoln had been down to Antarctica and talked about how wary the people living at the bases are of newcomers. Apparently things can get pretty strained when you're cooped up in one space for a long time.
There was a display at the Center on how people living at the bases fight depression and boredom.
I hoped it might be possible to hitch a ride down with the crew on the C-17 but the National Science Foundation- which handles the funding for U.S. missions- makes it clear that they don't do that sort of thing.
I don't know why I have suddenly developed this strong urge to see Antarctica. It was unexpected.
I started looking at ways to get funding and an invitation to go down.
I knew I would never qualify to go there and "do a science" unless it was a social science and after my professor's description I can only imagine that my close observation would make people's paranoia act up.
I also think I would be a prime candidate for the early onset of cabin fever.
In case you are wondering how to get down to the southern-most continent, www.usap.gov has the details.
They take engineers, pilots, scientists, service specialists (such as a cooks) and artists,
I think the last category would be the only one I would have a chance at and even then, it definitely would not be for poetry.
Roses are red, violets are blue
There's lots of snow here, and penguins too
Perhaps the appeal of the place is that is holds so much undiscovered wonder and is still relatively difficult to get to.
A few flights from Australia that will go over the region for an exorbitant fee but they don't land there.
Cruises down there are really expensive and sea conditions make land exploration unpredictable.
I guess I better start working on my painting, photography and poetry skills.
Perhaps I could write a musical called "Antarctica!"
It worked for a U.S. state so why not a whole continent?
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