WanderLust Kaitlyn Jayne: rhyme or reason

July 12-21

I bring the storm with me from the north. A cold wet fog that sits on the city like a fat kid in soggy nappies. The only respite we can find is an evening at the Ocean Spa. The outdoor heated pools provide a refuge against the fierce winds and rain. It actually makes the spa all the more enjoyable, the chilly air against my face and neck while the rest of me is submerged and bubbly warm.

Life is my own personal joke. You know the kind. The one that makes no sense but is somehow hilarious to the holder. So when I stroll through town or curl up and read I'm never that alone because I've got myself for company. Getting to know myself so I can smile inwardly on my 'inside story.' It makes the decisions I make and actions I take mine. Owned. Decisions like going out dancing 'til 4am with Anne and the Argentinian couple, Agustina & Luciano, and the Frenchman Julien in my new $4.50 secondhand shop dress.

And I rediscover that a bar is a bar is a bar is a bar, wherever you go. In walk the ladies in dresses you hope they won't bend over in and probably can't anyway, followed by the happy loud drunk blokes like flies to shit. Because I'm old now the only guys I'd want to buy me a drink are all married and have no business being here and the ones who do either hand me the cheapest beer there is and start gyrating or hand over 20 bucks because they "don't know what I'd like." That was a first. Don't worry people, I politely declined the money and the drinks. But the decision is mine to not hate on any of it. To smile and laugh with myself and love them in all their wicked predictable glory and dance (dance) like it's the last (last) night of my life (life.) Agustina & Anne are shiny happy people, twirling and jumping and matching my full on body bumping bliss. And Julien's got some fancy French moves that make him quite popular with some Kiwi guys on a bro-out night. It's messy and buzzy and a bit sweaty and my smile is the only makeup I need.

Coming from a place that basks under at least 300 days of sun a year, Napier's week long stint of rain clouds and gale force winds has put me in a right state of gloom. But, remembering the curative effects of a little exercise, it's nothing a beach side bike ride can't cure, in spite of the horizontal splattering of dew drops on steroids. Not to mention an evening of good food, wine, company and movies, and I manage to laugh off the rainy day blues.

The wind has blown away all my blues and the sun shines in a cloudless sky. Anne makes us almond flour pancakes with fruit for breakfast. We drive toward Havelock North to visit Te Mata Peak, the apex of a series of green hills with steep drop offs emptying into the sea and views as far as the eye can see. From the summit all of Hawk's Bay falls below, from Hastings to Gisborne, and there's a long chunky cloud casting a rain shadow over the sea. The scene continues to the Kaweka mountain range and in the distance you can even spot Mt. Ruapehu covered in virgin snow. It's so windy and bitterly cold we linger just long enough to absorb the grand views and a chill in our bones.

We happily tramp the more sheltered nature track as it winds through flora confusingly reminiscent of California and Colorado. There are towering redwood groves, a few Douglas firs, even mullen (Indian toilet paper) shoot up along a grassy hillside. There are just enough eucalyptus, pururis and kawakawas to remind me I haven't spontaneously transported to northern Cali. I'm more than just a little thrilled to be in the sun once again.

A walk up to Bluff Hill for views of the city, the mountains and the sea fills my afternoon. It's sunny and warm and everyone is out and about.

Retail therapy with Anne and Agustina. We jaunt around town searching secondhand shops for the perfect 20's and 30's outfits for Napier's Mid-Winter Art Deco weekend. There are all sorts of fancy events taking place, which of course cost big bucks. So my plan is to look awesome all weekend and strut around with a glass of wine in hand at all times.

I watch the sun set over the beach. The color contrast makes me sigh with contentment. The black pebble beach, baby blue sea, purple and pink horizon. The cliffs of Cape Kidnappers are strikingly pink. I sit on a hunk of driftwood and my mind and the rhythm of the sea mesh into one and a half hour passes before I even blink. I feel happy just accepting where I am and enjoying it while it lasts.

Anne and I whip up a big steak dinner with organic beef from a farm down the road. We chat merrily with backpackers posting up in the hostel for a few days.

Afternoon bike ride and estuary walk with Anne. Everyone and their mom, literally, is out enjoying the uncharacteristically warm, sunny day.

The sun rises in Napier and sets on all my worries. It sets fire to them as it does the clouds. And I sit on the black stone beach, retro thermos from Wayne in hand, next to Anne and our weekend friends, and breathe a sigh of relief. Life isn't as complicated as my mind has made it out to be, and sometimes it just takes a quiet moment to remember that. I close my eyes and take a sip of tea and can't help but smile. At least I am here.

Art Deco day in town. Anne and I get dolled up and ride around town in a 1931 Model A Ford.
We then bike all over town to Mission and Church Road wineries and the Filter Room cider house for tastings and samplers.

Later we host a wine and cheese tasting party and have a photo shoot.