St. Patrick’s Day, Devenport, and Surfing

This past week has been incredible, although I am starting to believe that just about everything in New Zealand is incredible and exceeds my expectations.

I started off this week planning for what I hoped would be a satisfactory St. Partick’s Day. Coming from Boston, a city that knows how to do St. Patrick’s Day, I was a bit skeptical about the festivities that would ensue on the 17th of March. I knew I was bound to enjoy celebrating with some true Irish because I have quite a few friends from Ireland who live at Whitaker, and let’s face it St. Patrick’s Day is a global event that we just happen to celebrate in the states.

I got my first sense of how serious St. Patrick’s Day would be when one of my good friends invited me to a full Irish breakfast (technically brunch) that would be held on the afternoon of St. Patrick’s Day. Although I had worked hard on Monday and Tuesday to complete all of my work, and even woke up early to squeeze in a little extra reading, I originally declined the offer because I had a lecture. But after rethinking all of the work that I had done and the fact that the lecture notes would be posted the next morning I changed my mind and confirmed that I would be back to the flats by noon.

My choice was well worth it. Eggs, hash browns, sausage, beans, toast, and a plethora of delicious food was the perfect start to St. Patrick’s Day. Not to mention the beer and good conversation to be had at the table. The day was off to a good start and progressed quickly and day drinking at Whitaker was just the beginning. Eventually we made it out, dressed in our St. Patrick’s Day approved green, with a group of new friends. We made it to a number of Irish pub’s that boasted live bands, good times, and the unavoidable marked up drinks.

In the end St. Patrick’s Day ended up being on of my favorite nights in New Zealand thus far. I made new friends, socialized with a lot of different people, and ended the night dancing to some classics with my favorite Americans.

The only downside was the guilty feeling I had the next day. The truth is I have never truly skipped a class before, and it was much easier to justify the day before at the peak of St. Patrick’s Day. After some soul searching and talking with some Kiwis in my classes I realized that maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. The truth is I was much further ahead in my reading and attendance than many of my peers and apparently for many Kiwis, that laid back, go with the flow personality translates over to class attendance as well.

In my quest to be a light traveler and end my over-packing ways, I was missing some essentials and needed to add a few pieces to my wardrobe. Therefore Shay and I decided to spend our Friday afternoon in New Market, a local shopping district and an area of Auckland I had yet to explore. The afternoon was a success and I returned home with a few splurges and even more bargains. On our way back to the flats, Shay and I decided to stop at a little Italian place for dinner. The food was delicious and reminded me of how much I missed Italian cooking. During dinner Shay and I could not stop discussing how much the owner of the restaurant reminded us of one of the owners in the North End and how much we loved/ missed that area of Boston.

On Saturday, Shay and I were determined not to waste a beautiful day in New Zealand, so we set out to explore another island off the coast of Auckland. We decided on Devenport. Devenport is about a ten minute ferry ride from the Auckland Harbor and we had heard amazing things about this quaint little town. The weather was impeccable as we stepped on the boat and set sail for the island.
When we arrived we spotted a small, hole in the wall bookshop overflowing with everything from New Zealand authors, to historical fiction. There were books, movies, records, and magazines both new and old. Needless to say, I fell in love. those that know me well know that I can spend hours in a bookshop. It was when I found the classics section that my heart melted. Everything from Shakespeare to the Bronte sisters. Collections of essays, plays, and novels lined the shelves.

There is something oddly compelling about reading a classic that can’t be explained and that is what I love most about them. The art of literature and story telling has changed over the years and although there is now a much more abundant amount of vocabulary, there is something special about the way that people used to write. It’s more than the excitement of beginning a new book and getting lost in the pages. It’s about the fact that although these books were written ages ago, the stories have withstood the sand of time and still hold prevalence today. I look up to the authors and i am captured by their stories. I only hope to someday write something nearly as romantic as Romeo and Juliet, or as chilling as Wuthering Heights. I spent longer than I should have perusing the shelves and discovered an old edition of Jane Eyre and a collection of essays by Fancis Bacon among the numerous compelling titles.

After making my purchase I was excited to get the the beach and begin one of the books. We walked along the side walks of the small town and stopped in a few shops before making out way to the bay. The day was amazing, minus a few clouds every so often, and Devenport won a special place in my heart. We saw a bit of a Cricket match before heading back into town to grab lunch at a small cafe, and I knew that nothing was going to capture my attention like Devenport. I’m not sure if it was the small town atmosphere that stirred up nostalgia or the books, beaches, art, and cafes that caught my eye. However, there is no doubt in my mind that that would be my last trip to Devenport.

The good times continued the next day as I left the flat to meet with Shay and Maria to go surfing. I have always wanted to learn to surf and growing up in Connecticut I never really had the time other than on holidays to the Cape and Rhode Island. Luckily, when planning my trip to New Zealand I pledged to myself that I would make a point to take a surfing lesson and without a doubt I would be up on the board by the end of the day.

With such high expectations I was a bit nervous upon meeting the rest of the group and the instructors. We boarded the vans and were on our way to Piha, one of the top surf spots on the island. After about an hour ride and a brief surf safety lesson, we recieved our wetsuits, boards, and leashes. Picking up my board and heading to the beach was exciting and I could not wait to get in the water! We practiced our technique on the beach for a bit. Working on our paddling in the sand as well as our pop up to the squatting position (you know the one, everyone does it when they’re pretending to surf.. knees bent, chest forward, arms out).
Soon we were sent into the water and told to catch a wave. The first steps in were chilling, but I cam e to appreciate the warmth of my wetsuit and the protection it gave me from vicious waves and a few collisions with the surf board. After one or two tries I was up on the board, and by lunch I could ride the wave into the shore. I was having a blast but after only two hours in the water I was beat.

After a quick lunch I was back in the water and excited to perfect my positioning and timing by catching some bigger swells. With the help and guidance of the instructors I learned how to pick the right waves and I improved my technique a bit. One of the instructors told me even helped teach me to ride unbroken waves horizontally, instead of towards the beach. Hopefully the next time I get out I can go around back and lay on my board waiting for waves, instead of fighting the currant in search of the perfect swell.

I had a blast and in the end caught the perfect wave to end the day. I was impressed with myself and the new love I had for the sport. Although I woke up today bruised and a bit sore, I can not wait to get back in the water on a board. I had an amazing time and would do it again in a second. Who knows what will happen, but right now I’d love to end up somewhere that I could continue to surf.

Ehara i te hanga! (It’s pretty amazing)

Another weekend has passed and I am still amazed by every place I visit in New Zealand.
After a night out on the town on Friday to celebrate the end of the second week of classes, I got some much needed sleep before our 8 am boat to Waiheke Island. Waking up early wasn’t easy, as I haven’t had to be up at 7 in quite a while, but it was well worth it. A 30 minute ferry ride brought Shay and I to the beautiful island of Waiheke off the coast of Auckland.

When we stepped of the boat we were greeted by Bodee and the Beachbum Bus. After introductions we piled into the bus and were more than grateful when the first stop was a cafe. The quaint township of Waiheke consisted of nothing more than a few cafes and little shops but the island and the beaches more than made up for the size of the population. Looking out onto the water from the Lazy Lounge Cafe I knew that the day would be an adventure.

After fueling up on caffeine our first stop was a beach (go figure). We got off the bus at the top of a hill overlooking the white sands below and a few pictures later we set off down the trail for the beach. The water was warm, the sun was shining, and the beach was… topless. While collecting an abundance of sea shells and rocks I quickly passed the older, under dressed beach goers, in favor of my fully clothed  companions from the Beachbum Bus. As it turns out we had already met a few of the girls on the tour during orientation week. Bodee, our tour guide, pulled out a cricket bat and tennis ball and taught a few of us a kiwi game, while the others went swimming.

Back on the bus, there was an air of excitement as everyone anxiously awaited our next stop. Shay and I contemplated whether or not it would be the relaxing day on the beach we expected, or if the Beachbum name was a bit misleading. The next stop of the day was an art gallery where local artists sold their work. The gallery was very unique and the artists were unbelievably friendly. Of course, while wandering the beautiful paintings, I came across a picture of dinosaurs. Although I have never held a special attachment to the extinct creatures, they pull at my heart every time as a reminder of my little brother back home.

A few stops later, we piled out of the bus in a mixture of enthusiasm and anxiety as we were about to attempt (dun dun dun) The Jungle Mission! Sneakers on our feet we were lead into the forest and within seconds the forest transformed into a jungle. I felt like I was in the Amazon. Crazy trees, exotic plants, and loud birds surrounded us as we hiked through the jungle. It was beautiful. Bodee told us interesting facts about the plants and wildlife that inhabit the national park and I tried my best to spot all of the things he told us about. I even saw the vines that Tarzan swings from and unsuccessfully attempted to do the same.

Just as I thought our adventure would continue forever, we abruptly exited the jungle and arrived at another beach. Unfortunately there was no time for sunbathing as we jumped back into the bus and headed for a wine tasting at a local vineyard (the first of two we would visit).

The Vineyard was gorgeous and unusual at the same time. When we pulled in we saw a stag party shooting disks in the front yard. Apparently this vineyard was popular for hosting events. Set back among the rows of trees was a beautiful little bar with a big patio. After having a few samples of the many dipping vinegars and spreads the vineyard offered, I went to the bar to choose the wines and beers I wanted to sample. I settled upon the pale ale, wheat beer, sauvignon blanc, and the rosette. All of which we home made on the vineyard. We had a great time pretending to be wine connoisseurs and chatting about our travels thus far in New Zealand.

We traveled to another winery and were relieved to see Dan (another Beachbum Bus employee) starting the barbecue out front. Not only did we have burgers and sausages with our wine during lunch, but Dan and Bodee entertained us with crazy stories and even some interesting tips on getting away with thing in New Zealand. Full from a delicious barbecue we were all ready for our last stop. The Beach.

Choosing to part from the crowd for a little, Shay and I walked a little further down the beach and decided to take a nap in the sun instead of joining in on the games. As we were walking we spotted a few of our friends from Whittaker sitting at a table at the bar on the beach. After saying hi and telling them about our day we found a spot to lay in the sand. Just moments after spreading out on the beach, the first rain shower of the trip surprised us and we ran for cover. Luckily the shower was short and only lasted for a couple of minutes. It was not the ideal ending to our trip but by that point we were all so beat from the day that we were happy to just sit on a hill overlooking the crystal clear water below and relax.

The trip home on the ferry quickly turned into a nap and I was exhausted during our walk home from the wharf. Yet again I had an amazing time exploring the lengths of New Zealand. I made new friends, new memories, and I even managed to secure a few souvenirs along the way.

Sunny Skies and Full Steam Ahead

Squinting into the stream of sunlight, I reached across the bed in an attempt to open the window. As my finger tips grazed the cold, metal latch the window swung open and I was hit with a breeze of fresh air. Somehow the task of waking up and getting out of bed has been made easier these past weeks and I am attributing this improvement to the amazing weather and atmosphere of New Zealand. Waking up to sunshine is just the beginning.

New Zealand is as incredibly different from the states as it is similar. One of the major differences I have experienced while traveling throughout New Zealand is the laidback, go with the flow atmosphere. I have witnessed this philosophy first hand in numerous situations from receiving directions, to registering for classes. Even teachers exhibit a carefree attitude. Can you imagine a professor at Northeastern coming to class in a t-shirt and board shorts? Without shoes? How about a professor wearing the same blue pocket t-shirt and jeans to five consecutive lectures? The University of Auckland has definitely adopted different priorities than universities in the United States. (It even appeared completely normal that my Media Politics tutor asked the members of the class to introduce themselves today by stating their name, major, and the most interesting thing they have ever smuggled into something.)

Other major difference between “papers” in New Zealand versus classes in the United States rests in the fact that in New Zealand the emphasis lies much more in reading than lectures. Many classes only have lectures once a week (for two hours) or twice a week (for one hour). In addition to these lectures, many classes also have a tutorial once a week. A tutorial is an opportunity to meet in a smaller discussion group with a tutor (teaching assistant) and discuss the previous week’s reading.

Reading is also very different at the University of Auckland. It appears as though many teachers prefer to utilize excerpts from multiple sources. The answer, course readers. Course readers are very similar to the course packs that I am very familiar with, thanks to three years working at the University Bookstore, however they are one third of the price (some are even free). While many classes also supplement course readers with passages from other various texts, a short loan library allows students to check out these texts for a few hours to do the reading thus bypassing the need to buy these books. The result? I spent a total of $31.97 on my books for 4 courses this semester.

As I partake in classes and complete the assigned reading I keep doubting whether or not I am taking New Zealand courses or not. This is because in every class I have gone to, America has been referenced at least twice and in many classes on multiple occasions. My advertising teacher constantly references American brands and advertisements. In Sports Media we watched and analyzed a clip from the 2008 Super Bowl. My professor for Politics and the Media has made references to Reagan, the Federalist Papers, the New York Times, etc. Even New Zealand Politics American political figures and innovations in the field of political science are constantly referenced. I never realized how influential the country I lived in truly was until traveling abroad.

Throughout my time in New Zealand there are a number of other cultural differences I have also noticed, a major disparity being between the RAs at Northeastern and RAs at the University of Auckland. Upon arriving at the University, I was quickly introduced to a number of people, two of which being two of the four RAs at my residence. Although I was not shocked that the university employed RAs, I was a little confused as to what their actual jobs were and if there were rules that I should know about. This is because the main job of the RAs at American universities is to make sure that there is no drinking done on campus, especially by underage students in residence halls. In New Zealand however, the drinking age is 18 and it was evident, after talking with fellow Whittakers that alcohol consumption in the flats was not only allowed, but encouraged by peers. I quickly learned that the role of the RAs was to promote activities for the flats and make sure that other matters of importance were handled. Drinking was not even on their radar, and if it was that was because they were the ones throwing a party. When Shay moved into her flat there was a multitude of empty beer bottles and Solo cups covering the counter, tables, even the TV, all from the party her roommate (and one of our RAs) had thrown the night before.

Although it is very apparent that New Zealand has its own culture and its own way of doing things, it is also greatly influenced by other countries and their cultures. Growing up in America, it was always reinforced that we are a melting pot, made up of various cultures and ethnicities. I never realized that as other countries have impacted our past and present; America has the same impact on other countries. The music played at bars and on the radio is over 90% American, Kiwi’s watch American programming, and American celebrities are renowned in New Zealand just as much as they are in America.

Growing up as a big fish in a notably small pond I thought that I was taking a step and experiencing what it was like to be a small fish in the large sea of Boston. I never realized that Boston was really just a stepping stone to bigger and better things. I have moments of missing my family and friends back home, but one look at my bulletin board full of their pictures reminds me of why I am here and that they are rooting for me.

It is already halfway through March and today marks one month since I have officially been in New Zealand, an amazing feeling until I realize how much I still want to do. The rest of this month is packed tight with events and schoolwork before I head off to Australia in April. After that the semester speeds by.  Looks like I better get off the computer and get back to the city!

Whittaker does Coromandel

When I opened the Facebook message inviting me to Cape Reinga for the weekend, needless to say I was thrilled. I was happy to be included in what promised to be a great weekend with friends I had met just days ago, and as soon as I saw Shay that day I knew we were both sold on the idea.

One aspect of New Zealand that never ceases to amaze me is the spontaneity of the country and the people in it. If these were my friends and I back in the US I have no doubt that this trip would have been planned at least a week in advance with definite accommodation arrangements and a solid itinerary. However, here on the island of New Zealand we were informed of the trip on the Wednesday before we were supposed to leave.

When the girls organizing the trip received an overwhelming response from people wanting to join the trip they decided to relocate the destination from Cape Reinga to the more easily accessible Coromandel peninsula. Practicing our new “go with the flow” philosophy, Shay and I agreed to the change of plans and let the girls continue their planning. As someone who likes to be in control, it was interesting and somewhat unnerving to not be the one planning and making decisions.

When I found out late Thursday night that only an eight person vehicle had been secured as transportation for the trip, I thought my fears had been relevant. Not having control meant loosing out on getting a spot in the van. Then, another car was rented and filled within minutes. It appeared as though everyone in our residence hall was going away and Shay and I were going to miss out on the whole experience.

Luckily, we didn’t give up! After hours of texting and knocking on doors we met Sophie, from Canada, and Matt, from England, flatmates from 23. In true spontaneous, New Zealand fashion we introduced ourselves and decided to travel together. Sophie and I exchanged numbers and without specific transportation or sleeping arrangements we planned to leave the next day around 3.

The next day I woke up and packed for what was an unclear, but sure to be eventful weekend. Sophie and Matt had found a car, but we still had no plans as to where we would be spending the night. As we were about to leave we acquired another travel companion. Matt from Canada had won a coin toss and therefore the fifth and final seat in the car. We packed the car, put on music, and headed for Coromandel… Lonely Planet in hand.

On our way to Coromandel I was quickly acquainted with my new travel mates. We exchanged information about where we were from, our home universities, what programs we studies, what classes we were taking, and various other topics. After a few hours and quite a few sing-a-longs, we had made it to Coromandel and we were faced with the task of making it to the town of Whitianga, and possibly even more importantly, finding a place to stay the night.

Upon entering Whitianga, Matt (our designated driver due to England’s similar choice to drive on the wrong side of the road) spotted a sign that ensured a Gazebo Lookout. Unsure of what to expect, we stopped on the side of the road and hiked up what appeared as only a few stairs but turned out to be a treacherous combination of winding stairs and hills. However, it was well worth the climb when we stumbled upon the Gazebo and were rewarded with breathtaking views of the town. A gorgeous inlet and beach houses tucked into the hills.

After our mini detour we proceeded to look for accommodations. The rest of our 18 person group had arranged to stay at a local hostel named “The Cat’s Pyjamas.” Unfortunately the hostel was full as were all of the other backpackers in town. After driving around for what seemed like hours in a town not more than one square mile we were losing hope fast due to the overwhelming number of “No Vacancy” signs prominently displayed outside of every hotel and motel. That is until we came across Holiday Park, a campsite on the outskirts of the town center complete with a pet goat. They had one cabin left and we took it and planned on moving to The Cat’s Pyjamas the next night.

We finally rejoined the other cars and went out on the town (and by town I mean what appeared to be the one and only street that housed commercial properties) for dinner (and by dinner I mean a fish burger and chips in the local sports pub). It was fantastic. We ended the night with great live music (a la Sophie) and a few drinks under the starlit sky on the beach.

Saturday I was the first one up, obviously, and after getting dressed and repacking I patiently waited for my cabin mates to do the same. Two hours later we had eaten and checked into the hostel for our next night in Whitianga. We set out for what we had heard was a secret, locals-only beach rated one of the top 20 beaches in the world. With nothing more than a simple road map we proceeded on the winding roads. Dedicated to our adventure and refusing to ask for directions we went a little out of the way. However on our detour Matt spotted what appeared to be a rope swing hanging from a tree above an abandoned creek. Without question we evacuated the car and took turns jumping into the freezing water.

After traveling a bit further down the road we located the entrance to the beach. Not only was the “secret beach” hidden by another beach proceeding it but we had to make it past the high tide, over piles of unsecured rocks, and up the side of a cliff. (Oh and did I mention we did this all without any form of shoes due to the fact that we decided to do as the Kiwis do and declare Saturday barefoot day).

The hike was well worth it. On the other side of the cliff we were greeted by the most beautiful beach I had ever seen. I was in pure bliss and my feet accepted the warm sand with a running start. We set up camp on the seemingly deserted beach and headed for the water. The warm waves were welcomed and we spent the better part of the day alternating between the soft sand and glittering waves.

It was a day for the history books, apart from nothing actually occurring other than watching some insanely
gorgeous surfers and finishing a few more chapters of my book. The hike back to the car was much easier than our hour trek to the beach and after hours in the sun we said goodbye to our secret beach.

We took a quick detour for some fish n chips by the harbor, complete with traditional newspaper wrappings. (That means I’ve had fish four times since being in New Zealand?!) We then headed to Hot Water Beach to locate the other 12 people we had come to Coromandel with. Hot Water Beach was a really cool idea, but a bit overrated in my opinion. The idea is that at certain points before and after high tide, you can dig a hole and because of some geothermal something or other when the water fills the whole you have your own personal hot tub.

Of course we were able to locate the hot spots, but it was quite a challenge to dig the appropriate holes without them being destroyed by the surf. Even at low tide the waves crashed to the shore with amazing force and kept us, and everyone else on the beach, from experiencing the “amazing Hot Water Beach.” The waves were so strong that while standing over one of the hot spots my feet were knocked out from under me and I landed on the spade one of the boys was using to dig a whole. This resulted in a painful hole in my foot and thus the end of our time on Hot Water Beach.

We ended the night yet again with a campfire type circle on the beach (minus the actual fire) after a town wide blackout. The townspeople told us that the blackout was a fairly normal occurrence and we proceeded to bond and play silly games on the beach in the pitch black night.

The next morning I had a cup of coco in the courtyard as Rachel and I waited for the rest of the group to rise and shine. There was a bit of conflict as to what everyone wanted to do the next day and I was thankful our laid back, go with the flow car was not part of the tension. We packed our car, said our goodbyes and headed out for another adventure.

After a short trip south we arrived at Cathedral Cove. It was another long trek to the beach and I could feel the hike from the day before in my legs, but luckily there were no cliff to climb this time. The beach was yet again breathtaking. I used to think a beach was a beach, but after visiting the beaches that I did over the weekend, I learned that a beautiful beach was comprised of much more than water and sand. It was the turquoise of the sparkling water, the crash of the waves, the luscious surrounding scenery, and of course the company with whom I enjoyed it.

Another day of sleeping on the beach, soaking up the sun, and playing in the sea ended just a bit too soon as we needed to return to Auckland before dark. Along the way we stopped for a bite to eat and some petrol, but before long the long winding roads and the soothing soundtrack caused the three girls in the backseat to dose off. (Okay, it may have had something to do with the completely exhausting late nights and sunny days)
Overall I had a weekend of pure bliss and it was over too soon. The “go with the flow” philosophy had paid off and even the barefoot Saturday had been rewarding. I made an abundance of new friends and memories to last a lifetime (so cliche, yet so true). While I am not exactly looking forward to classes this week, I still have two days to catch up on my work and I am eagerly looking forward to more weekend trips!

Welcome to New Zealand, we lost your luggage?

After an exhausting 6 hour flight to LA, I made my way to the international terminal to meet up with Shay. Getting to the terminal was a challenge in itself but when I arrived and found my traveling companion it was only a matter of minutes before the excitement returned and the adrenaline set in. Only one more plane ride before I was in a new country, making new friends, and having the time of my life! Little did I know the surprises that New Zealand had in store.

The second I could see land my heart started pounding. This was it. The Captain’s voice came over the loud speaker announcing our arrival to a boiling and bright Auckland, New Zealand. We gathered our things and shuffled off the plane and into Auckland International Airport. As we stepped off the plane and followed the crowd through the vast duty free shops, Shay and I were as giddy as two middle school girls at a Backstreet Boys’ concert. I turned the corner and practically slammed into the large customs officer in front of me. When he asked what passport we were traveling on, Shay and I simultaneously answered American and we were directed to the long line that ran zig zag across the large room. After about a 45 minute wait we were helped by a rather gorgeous Kiwi and then sent to baggage claim.

Shay located her huge pink and turquoise duffel bags in a minutes and I was left watching three or four nondescript bags circle the turnstile. Turns out my bags hadn’t made the trip. After waiting in another long line and filing a claim with baggage services I was sent away with an XL white t-shirt and a bag of hotel sized toiletries. Hoping that the day couldn’t get much worse Shay and I proceeded through security and went to find out ride. Again we were thrown a curve ball when Martin was no where to be found. Eventually we managed to locate a shuttle bus and arrange a ride to our flats.

So here I am only a little more than 48 hours into my trip and quite defeated. The silver lining in the story however is that I just met one of my suite mates! Her name is Jen and she is a Kiwi (native to the north island of New Zealand). Jen has been an angle helping me navigate the city in search of a few essentials in case my luggage doesn’t arrive before my flight to Queenstown in the morning.

Lets hope that tomorrow brings not only a new day but some pleasant weather, some good luck, and maybe my luggage?!

forcast: sunny skies ahead

Leaving on Tuesday...

It’s finally Tuesday, February 9, 2010, and that means that in just a few short hours I will be on a plane headed for New Zealand. The plan is to leave from JFK around 6:30 p.m., get into LA around 12:30 a.m., and then sleep for the final and longest leg of the trip.

I’ve been preparing for the trip for weeks. My bags are packed (to the maximum) and my flight clothes are laid out. I have a carry-on stuffed with books, magazines, snacks, and absolutely no liquids! I’m prepared, as always.

Other than my impending trip, everything around the house is quite normal. My step-dad said good-bye this morning and right now it’s just my mom, little Nicky, and myself. Soon Grandpa and Grandma will show up and we will pack the car and be on our way but until then I’m enjoying the time alone with two people I am going to miss deeply.