What follows is an approximation of the last few weeks, not recorded daily.
6 June
Leaving Kaitia. Lunch at the Mangonui Fish Shop, which Lonely
Planet claims to be one of the best fish n' chip joints in the whole
country. It's great, but they haven't
tried our fish n' chips recipe.
Hike to
Rainbow Falls in Kerikeri. Attempting a
daring scramble to the luring cave behind the falls, only to give in to safety
precautions and forgo the narrow, slippery rock ledge.
7 June
Next day, my 24th
birthday. Dear god that sounds a lot
older than I feel. In my mind I may
always remain 19. Impetuous and
carefree. Canceling appointments just
because I can't handle the commitment.
Alas, I'm a grown-up, making grown up decisions, like, where oh where
shall I celebrate my anniversary of womb escapage?
I do my best to recreate my placental palace
of origination by spending the day soaking in geothermic hot pools. Unlike my solo stay in utero, I am joined by
two dear friends, Jamie and Martha. We
spin in lazy swirls, sometimes inverting ourselves for a hand stand contest,
sometimes sitting in contemplative silence, perhaps like a turkey would whilst
soaking in its own juices before the oven is too hot to scald.
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| Photo: Sina |
A reunion of sorts transpires at the pub near
KP, a surreal flashback to 3 weeks earlier.
So much has happened in that time, but our friends are still there and
it feels that no time has passed at all.
8 June
Today, 8 June,
technically, it's still my birthday in the states. So technically, I can still celebrate the day
in which I came to be.
And what better
way to do so than with barbecue, beer, and an All Blacks match. A lively pre-game party at Oakland's Lodge
precedes our front row seats at the NZ v. France showdown. Rugby players are fit as fiddles, and there's
no bulky padding to hide their sinewy calves and burly biceps, nor are there
helmets to mask their rugged tough-guy features. Anyway, I digress. The match is heaps of fun even though I
haven't the slightest clue what's happening on the field. NZ All Blacks win 20-13. But the night's not over yet!
Ever been to a rave
sober? Neither have I. I guess it's not really a rave, and that's
not to say I'm totally buggered. Just
enough of a buzz from the All Blacks victory and a touch of tequila to dance on
the roof of the old barracks that are currently housing a secluded psy trans
dance party. Not only can I hear the
techo-esque beat, but I can feel it rising up through the concrete into my
core. If you've ever seen me dance,
sober or otherwise, you know it's something akin to a hydrocephalic chimpanzee
running across hot coals.
But the last
thing I am is ashamed of my rhythmless white girl moves, especially tonight,
when I've got the entire city of Auckland lit up in the palm of my hand, the
whip of the ocean breeze at my face, and enough adrenaline to keep my body in
motion 'til at least four in the morning.
I've got Jamie, Anne Marie, Martha and Mea, gal-pals extraordinaire, as
dance partners to boot. Dance as if no
one is watching? Don't have to tell me
twice.
9 June
Two hours of sleep in
Tin-Tin in the Mission Bay Yacht Club car park is just enough to allow my brain
to take in the glory that is Tiritiri Matongi Island. A conservationists' wet dream, the island was
a desolate over-grazed dust lump until it was purchased and revegitated in the
1940's. Today it's home to countless
endangered and threatened bird and reptile species, including, but not limited
to, the elusive Kiwi, the scarce Kokako, and the ancient third-eyed
Tuatara. We spend the day immersed in
Syd's (our volunteer guide) rendition of Tiritiri's rich history as well as
it's charming fauna and fascinating flora.
The day, and birthday weekend, concludes with an eagle ray sighting, a
full-on conked-out nap in Tin-Tin's warm belly, and traveling tips from hunky
Germans. Not too shabby for an old maid.
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| Male Stitchbird |
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| Red-crowned parakeet |
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| Male Bell Bird |
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| View form Tiritiri to Auckland |
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| Saddleback |
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| Takahe |
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| Syd leading us on a guided tour |
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| Eagle Rays |
| Photo: http://wanderingjamie.blogspot.com |
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| 360 view from the highest point on Tiritiri | |
| Photo: http://wanderingjamie.blogspot.com |
11 June
Head South… Head South… Head South… Rotorua…
Rotovegas? Nearly empty in the
winter. Weird vibes. Not for us.
Head South… Whakarewarewa Living Thermal Village. An old Maori village, still occupied by
elders, located on a mini Yellowstone, geothermically speaking. The tour is splendid and I'm fascinated,
haunted, pleased and smiling throughout.
It sounds cheesy and totally contrived when I describe it, and maybe it
is, but this place has been giving tours to the public for over 100 years, so
at least a herd of fanny-pack toting tourists with expensive cameras on the
'auto' setting just sort of blends in to the every day din that is Whaka
life. Best described through captioned
pictures, really.
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| Communal Bathtubs |
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Doing the haka
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| Jamie learning a poi dance |
12 June
Hike up Rainbow Mountain
for 360 vista of Lake Rotorua, steaming geothermal pools, conic volcanic
mountains (Mt. Ruapehu, Mt. Ngauruhoe & Mt. Tongariro) covered in powdered
sugar.
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| http://wanderingjamie.blogspot.com |
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| photo: http://wanderingjamie.blogspot.com |
Not quite satiated, we
follow a tip from the hunky Germans and locate a local secret where a boiling
river meets a cooler creek, just under a bridge down the road from a pricey
walled-up thermal pool joint. Quite
certain we've soaked our bones in the best Rotorua has to offer without a
price, we retire to a remote campsite a few km south of Taupo. The stars are endless.
13 June
I can imagine the
conversation going something like this:
"You mean to tell me you girls are in the trout capitol of the
world and you're not going to at least cast a few?" To which the response would have to have
been: "We'd love to, but we haven't got any of the necessary
equipment." I don't know Papa
Feuerstein all that well, but I do know he's an avid fly fisherman and no
daughter of his is going to spend a few days in Lake Taupo and not try her luck
at reeling in a big juicy one.
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| Photophoto: http://wanderingjamie.blogspot.com |
And then it happens. Jamie's
landed one. She squeals and yelps and
Brett is by her side, waiting for the right moment to net 'em. Her delight is palpable as the big moment
comes to inspect her prize. It's a
rainbow trout, a male, a big one, 2.7 kilos Brett reckons. Not 10 minutes later I feel a pull that
results in a slightly smaller, shiny female rainbow. The fruits of our labor. Incredible.
Such an incredible day! Thanks,
to say the least, Papa Feuerstein!
You've just invested in two upcoming expert anglers, triumphant
trawlers, fantastic fisherwomen!
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| Jamie's got a big one! |
14 June
Early in the day we pack
up from a restful night at Reid's Farm to pay a visit to the grand, the mighty
and the powerful Huka Falls.
We're
transfixed by the maelstrom of force and strength that embody the great chute. Not to mention the intense sapphire blue of
the water. We linger, drawn to the vigor
and energy of the place, writing postcards and drinking hot coffee from an
aluminum can, until at last, the times comes.
For today is the
day. This, the 14th day of the sixth
month in the year of our lord two thousand and thirteen. This, the day on which Jamie fulfills her
destiny, scratches from her bucket list, and experiences first hand the glory
that is… HOBBITON! It's everything she's
hoped for and more, from what I'm told.
She's happy, and I'm glad. Read
her blog for all the scintillating details.
I, however, opt for the short but strenuous hike to Wairere Falls, the
highest falls on the North Island. It's
been a warm, sunny afternoon and my skin glistens with sweat by the time I make
it to the lookout. And there I behold
the cascading sheets of water glistening with the light of the sinking sun as
each drop plunges over 150 meters and terminates in a deafening white
spray. I chase the sunlight back along
the steep winding path, nipping at its heels until I emerge where I began, only
a gentle mist has covered the landscape in a blanket that only allows a few
trees a view of the sunset. My own
private Hobbiton of sorts. 
I meet Jamie and Anne
Marie at the i site in Matamata and my elven ally and I stride north, back toward
Auckland, where tomorrow she will fly the familiar skies and return to the
northern hemisphere for the next 6 weeks of summer, only to return as winter
really kicks off in a little country known to some as Aotearoa.
Alright, folks, from
here on out there aren't heaps and gobs of action and adventure. So if you're not keen on reading deeper into
my exposed personal psyche as I spend the next leg of the trip up the
Coromandel Peninsula, then don't bother reading on. I'll let you know when it gets exciting
again. If you are intrigued by my lone
(but not lonesome) thoughtful wanderings, then, by all means, continue.
16 June
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| View from my bedroom at Wayne's place | s |
I reckon books would
prefer to be read by candlelight. The
warm light that spreads like honey over every page. Washing it in a glow reminiscent of the days
when books were the embodiment of knowledge and candelabrums the only source of
enlightenment after sunset. And that
worn, musty smell an old book acquires with age and use, I imagine they wear
that musk like a badge of honor. Books
take on a personality of their own under the gleam and flicker of a wick
alight.
I lay my story closed for the
night, blow out my torch, and gaze out my tower window at the stars that peak
out between storm clouds. It's winter in
the Coromandel so Wayne, my newest WWOOFing host, and I hunker down and toast
our muesli concoction, prepare a wicked good thai curry pumpkin soup, he strums
his guitar and I awkwardly pluck my ukulele, and we both have a laugh at the
synchronicities of life.
I reckon I'm
gonna like it here. With Jamie back in
the states I'm already battling bouts of home sickness. Longing for the familiar. But with Wayne's 100% off the grid repurposed materials home, his far-out organic sculptors,
his superb healthy cooking and stellar faerie-like garden, plus a good
sense of humor, kind eyes that twinkle with each smile, and an open heart, I
think I'll get along just fine.
17 June
Day trip to Coromandel
Town with Wayne and Kathi. A light
stroll around the City Centre, enjoying window shopping and a cup'a at the
cafe. On the way home Wayne's hawk eye
sights an Orca pod of 6 just off the coast!
We pull over and watch their massive black fins slice through the
waves.
Back at home the clouds bugger
off and Wayne and I hike up along the clear, babbling spring to bleed the water
hose lines. (Letting air out of lines so
it can flow freely down stream to the house).
"The louder the water, the quieter your mind." So true Wayne, so true. We spend the afternoon weeding & mulching
the garden beds.
Just before dark Wayne,
Kathi, Ruby and I venture up a nob hill for an evening of Kiwi listening, part
of the conservation duties held by Moehau Environment Group members. A quiet sit, but for the three male Kiwi
shrieks, under the stars with new friends.
The moon is bright enough to illuminate the great Karuna falls waterfall
in the distance.
18 June
A solid day's work at
Buddhist Monastery, Mahamudra. I weed
garden beds, then assist Wayne in fixing a broken stair step. We then fill potholes with rocks & shells
shoveled heartily from the local beach.
Lovely lunch at the Green Snapper Cafe.
Some nasty weather closes in & I read, take a nap & catch up
with Dad in my tower room. Delightful
fish, salad & mashed pumpkin & kumara for dinner. Wayne plays guitar while I do dishes.
Earlier, we're driving after picking aromatic
flowers and I turn to him and say, "I feel really happy here." He smiles that eye-twinkling, red-cheeked
smile that juices your eyes right up and responds, "It shows." I almost do tear up because it's true, I am
happy here. Content, relaxed, at peace.
19 June
It's always the little
things that feel like big things, eh?
Like watching a kid's concentration as she carefully plants a sapling, a
spontaneous lunch with new friends, reading after dinner on the floor next to
the wood stove. Every day feels meant to
be. I'm washed with a sense of serenity
as I move through the hours. Once a year
M.E.G. hosts a native tree planting day for the Colville primary school.
We greet 16 kiddos at the car park and make
our way to the tree planting site. I
meet Natalie, M.E.G.'s coordinator extraordinaire, an inspiring woman in her
late 20's with flawless light skin and blue eyes you could drown in. I watch her mouth move when she talks, I like
the shapes it makes, and I like the words that come out. She's humble, but I know she's earned every
bit of her respectable reputation. I
want to pick her brain, absorb even a sponge full of her knowledge, but I don't
know just how to go about it. Ah well,
I've got time. That's something I don't
feel short on.
The clouds hold off long
enough for me to get my hands right filthy.
The warm, wormy soil merging with the pores and lines of my palms,
filling the spaces under my fingernails.
Rows of garlic, peas & toksoi in Wayne's garden and flax &
cabbage trees in the bush with the kids.
Natalie wants to pick my brain about what I've learned as an
environmental educator, and Shannon tags along.
I feel like an impostor. Who am I
to be dishing on EE when she's the one with the lengthy degrees and
experience? I let it go and we chat
freely. I've got a lot to teach and even
more to learn. Wayne, Shannon, Natalie
and I enjoy a nice lunch and a hot cup'a, happily singing away the afternoon
like tipsy Tui birds.
20 June
It's a reminder. No. A
wake up call? Not quite. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but being
here at Wayne's has given me something.
Something intangible, but solid.
Something I needed more than I thought I did. A feeling that lets me be. Just be.
Down with "should" and "ought to." My anxiety and concern with the goings and
comings of the world has skipped town.
Slipped away quietly into the abyss and didn't bother to leave a
farewell note. Fine, because I'm
perfectly content to dig in that garden bed, finish a new book in two days (I Am the Messenger, a must read), clean
up after dinner, and paint that sign.
Kiwi listening is cancelled due to winds that threaten to take the house
with them and enough rain to fill a gum boot.
Fine, I'm pleased to eat a bowl of Irish stew by the fire and read my
book and listen to Seal. Tranquil,
satisfied, can't be bothered. These
feelings won't last forever. I'll
eventually get ants in my pants and say goodbye to Wayne and his red cheeks,
eyes full of laughter. Goodbye to his
gardens green and his wood sculptures and his generosity.
But for now I'll float here, in my cozy bed
with a window for a wall that lets in the morning light playing on the clouds
while the Tui sings and the sun burns the haze off the trees. I'll float here, awash in my daze of
realization that I am me, and that's enough.
I'm not the smartest or the skinniest or the prettiest or the strongest
or the funniest or the cleverest or the most talented. But I am me, and I am special and I have
worth. And it's okay to just be that,
whatever it is, alone or surrounded or somewhere in between. And that's how I've stopped every creeping
apprehensive thought from squirming into my stream of consciousness. Screw what I "should" be
doing. I am here, being me, doing this,
and I feel fine.
Extra photos from the All Blacks match:
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| Anne getting Mea ready! |
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| My birthday cake! Thanks, Jamie! |
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| Both sides come together for food and drinks |
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| New Zealand supporters |
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| Yum! |
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| Group Photo |
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