la la la la love... days go by...

Fri 5/3

We'll work our way backwards.  

The night ends in a gulch in the bush, pitch black save the tiny LED lights dotting the cliffside.  But they're not Light-Emitting Diodes, they're organic life; glow worms!!!  So here we stand, Brenden (the local), Jamie, Martha, Russel and I beneath the night sky spattered with stars that remind me of the first chapter of Ed Abbey's Abbey Road, staring at these tiny creates whose butts are illuminated like tiny ass torches, hoping to attract a bug or two for dinner, just like a moth to a flame.  I'm humbled.  By the expanse of the sky.  By the girth of the trees that surround us.  (I half expected to hear Totoro's flute and look up to see him playing from an exposed branch). By the intricate sticky silk strands these glow worms weave in front of their light up bums.  By the mere fact that I'm here with these people sharing this experience, and that all of it; the stars, the trees, the glow worms and the humans, we're all made of the same stuff.  Connected in ways I'm only beginning to imagine. 

We're at the pub, 10 of us crowded around a bench outside talking, laughing, sharing, learning.  The local Rugby team, the Blues, are playing in the stadium right up the street, so the match is on every TV and you can hear every play-by-play. 
photo: Sina Bonbina

Looks brutal, judging by the blood pouring from that guy's ear.  Tonight's live music starts up.  A local band doing covers of American songs.  Claudio look-a-like head banging to an Eminem cover turned hard rock.  I laugh out load at the recognition of the song and get a few strange looks.  Local microbreweries here aren't half bad.

We're gathering in the Shanti yoga studio for some evening Yin yoga practice.  It's calm, relaxing and restorative.  Brenden is a good instructor; very soft spoken but clear.  I loved when we squatted, raised our arms together above our heads, visualized holding an axe, then brought it down in one swift, intentional motion, forcing the air from our lungs and splitting that imaginary wood.  Feeling invigorated for my first night out in NZ.

I'm napping in the WWOOFers lounge as it begins to rain outside.

We begin our morning bright and early, before sunrise even.  Jamie and I grab a couple of yoga mats and sneak quietly into the big yoga studio.  We sit peacefully and stretch as the sun beings to rise, turning the sky a purpley-pink and lighting up the building with a reddish hue.


We make breakfast and attend the WWOOF meeting where everyone is assigned their 3 hour tasks.  3 hours a day in exchange for a warm, dry place to sleep in a caravan (tiny mobile home), and access to a pretty homey-feeling lounge and kitchen.  Jamie and I are on weeds.  Poor suckers didn't know what they had coming.  We nearly filled two huge canvas bags full of all sorts of unsuspecting, unsightly, unwanted plants.  Felt so good to feel earth; dark, wet and mushy; to smell its dank funk; to get muddy and sweaty, even if I was pulling from it and not cultivating.  3 hours and I've earned my first day's keep.

Sat 5/4

Rain. Rain. Rain.  Rain in the morning.  Rain in the afternoon.  Rain in the evening.  Even though we only work 3 hours a day, we work 6-7 days a week.  The only trouble is, and the reason why Jamie and I are leaving sooner rather than later, is because we're the manicurists of these perfect lawns and these tidy retreat rooms, all made pretty for those paying loads of money to be transformed into more enlightened beings.  That's fine and well, but I'm not learning anything.  I'm picking weeds and fluffing pillows.  

That being said, I love the people here.  The WWOOFers are diverse and dynamic and hilarious and riveting, and so inclusive.  That's part of the experience, a huge part, meeting and connecting with new people and growing from those experiences.

So here we are, with the promise of an entire country to explore, and we're rarin' to go, but I feel stuck in the mud.  We absolutely need to take the time to get our ducks in a row so we're prepared, but we're restless.  So we fill our time when we're not planning and organizing with ridiculous Southern accents, dancing in the kitchen, and couch cuddle sessions.

It's pouring rain during and after work, so all the WWOOFers post up in the lounge for a lazy afternoon.  Just before dusk I get ants in my pants so I grab my rain jacket and my camera and go for a walk along the stream.  

The canopy of ferns is so dense it appears much later in the day than it is, and the trail is narrow and muddy from all the rain.  But I have to move.  

Only falling once, I pop out on the other side of the orchard and wander lazily back to the lounge.  Everyone is as I left them, so I grab Skinny Legs and All and settle in once again, filling the previous anxious space with cozy calm.

Jamie and I collaborate on a colorful vegetarian green curry, eat 'til our stomachs form food babies, and squish through the mud back to our caravan for a good night's sleep.

Sun 5/5

I wake to the cock-a-doodle-do of the chooks (chickens), a sound I've been all too familiar with before.  It's Sunday and I don't have to work until 7pm, so I lay in bed dreamily, thinking.  I start to feel my cortisol level rising as the slow ebb of fear creeps into my consciousness.  If we get a van, that means I'll have to drive it.  On the left side of the road.  Sometimes in a big city.  I'll be responsible for the two lives inside, and all the other lives outside, whizzing by at 120km.  And what do I do when Jamie leaves for a month?  Where will I be, where will I go, what will I do with myself and the van, where will I park it?  I'll be all alone, can I figure it out on my own?  That sinking feeling, like I'm going to flail and then fail, makes my cheeks hot.  

Then it hits me; isn't that why I'm here?  At some point I had fear in enough of a head-lock to pick up my life in Co, quit my jobs, fit the essentials into a backpack, say goodbye to my family and friends, navigate the city of San Fran, and get myself to NZ.  And while I had much needed and appreciated help along the way, the decisions were still mine.  And each decision, as it came time to make it, didn't seem quite as terrifying as I had imagined.  Take 'em as they come.  Roll with the punches.  It's cliche, but true.  And that's why I'm here; why I'm doing this, after all.  To go confidently in my own direction.  To have the resolve and self-assurance to kick fear's ass and do 'it', whatever 'it' may be.  So I settle back into my cozy sleeping bag and doze to the drunken calls of the Tui bird.

"There is nothing more rare, nor more beautiful, than a woman being unapologetically herself; comfortable in her perfect imperfection."

-Steve Maraboli

"Tell me, what is your plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" 

-Mary Oliver

Went on an enchanting stream walk with Jamie, Martha and Russel.  A little fan tail bird was our guide, flitting and flying around us.

Mon 5/6

Rained ALL day.  Literally.  Sleeping was nearly impossible because of the constant wind and rain beating on our tin roof.  Had to clean bathrooms, or ablutions, as they're lovingly referred to here.  Not my favorite day so far.  After work Jamie and I braved the constant drizzle to walk to the pack-n-save and get groceries.  Had a lovely but strenuous jaunt home carrying everything in ever-collapsing cardboard boxes.  Bought a Chouffe beer and enjoyed it secretly in our trailer, playing music and girl talking.  

Times like these when I appreciate being here with my best friend.  That familiar, deep down connection is priceless, especially seven thousand miles from home.  

Did some buzzed yoga with Sina, Brenden, Sarah and Jennifer.  Made garlic ginger salmon, hung out with WWOOFers and went to bed.

Tues 5/7

For as much rain as there was yesterday, there was just as much sun today.  All day!  I worked outside the entire time which was a gift, raking up and disposing of fallen apples, then raking up and disposing of  fallen leaves.  Loved every minute of it.  Sun on face, hard at work.

Jamie and I hit the pool after work.  A massive, deep, clear, blue tiled, chlorine-free queen of a pool. 

Jamie, Sina, Mithias, Jack, Dan and I laid by the pool, jumping in the glacier cold water to cool off.  Listening to music, taking pictures, laughing, worshiping the sun.  Sweet, sweet sunlight brings out the best in people.

Wed 5/8

And this is why you make friends.  The genuine kind who have your back.  The manly kind who miss a half hour of work to check out the prospective camper van inside and out, up and down, until it is determined that Jamie and I know nothing about cars and we were THIS close to buying an over-priced metal death trap.  Phew!  Dodged the bullet on that one, thanks James!

Back to square one.  Looks like we'll be at KP until at least Sunday, because Sunday is the big car fair at the race track, where everyone goes to sell their cars and camper vans.  And you can bet we'll be taking our KP WWOOFer cohorts for backup.  Stay tuned!

My eyes are closed.  I hear the rain dancing on the roof, tap tap tap tap on the skylights.  I feel the warmth of the fire on my back, the reassuring crackle of the flames.  I focus on my breath, the feeling of my chest rising, then falling, filling me with life, with calm.  I'm moving, stretching, restoring energy to my muscles, blood flowing to and fro.  Quiet mind, full heart.  Here, in this place, with these people, I am utterly content.

We make pizza dough from scratch.  Jamie and I make 3 different pizzas with fresh veggie toppings.  We mono-chow two of them, and save one for tomorrow's potluck.

   

Really enjoying the friend's we've made here.  English, Canadian, German, French, Japanese.  Accents, lifestyles, quirks, burps, farts, laughs, hugs, recipes, expressions, jokes.  I love it all.  I feel like I've known some of them for so long already.  Makes this little room feel like some sort of home.