WanderLust Kaitlyn Jayne: awhi 1. (verb) to embrace, cherish, sit on eggs, brood.

6 Aug

Filling dome's structural support pillars with concrete. Morning spent driving to gravel pile, filling ute bed with gravel & unloading at dome site. Big lunch spread with Javi & Mireia. It's just been the 4 of us lately. Jose & Sean in Auckland. Deakin & Joe tramping in the mountains. Jo & Bryan only seen when instructing us on how to do something. It's wonderful, actually. Getting to know Javi & Mireia on a closer level. Making jokes, laughing so hard Jamie cries and I nearly pee myself (and maybe did a little). Having intimate discussions about life and happiness and the ways of the world and our views and why. Speaking primarily in spanish, which makes my brain feel so lubricated.

The afternoon is spend with Mireia on the concrete mixer, constantly working on another batch. Jamie and I form a line exchanging wheelbarrows of concrete and passing up tin cans full of the sloppy grey stew to Javi as he pours the mixture down the slot, can by can. It sounds like runny diarrhea in a long drop toilet. It's hilarious and we learn to say horribly comic and vulgar phrases in spanish as a result. It takes 6 solid hours of work. We are exhausted, covered in concrete in various stages of drying, sweaty and satisfied. I feel my best when I've worked my hardest.

As soon as the last rays of the sun disappear over the hills we make a dash for the hot pools down the road. A quick soak before dinner sucks out every potential aching muscle juice and I leave the place a new woman. Warm and clean and blissed out. We return to Awhi to a dinner spread from the heavens. Lisa has prepared a fish pie, a bacon and cheese pie, a tomato soup, salad greens, carrot beetroot apple salad, and for desert, a chocolate cookie crumble. Nothing ever tasted so good and you can believe I go for thirds.

8 Aug

Lisa's Marae

Lisa takes us to the Marae of her whanau (family). It's at the base of Tongariro tucked up a dirt road. We pass houses on the way, some appear kempt and others a bit dilapidated with a dog chained up out front. "That's my auntie's house there. And that's my cuz's. This land over here belongs to my dad and his brother." She does this with nearly every home or parcel of land we pass. She is deep within her Iwi (tribe) and this land is rich in Maori history and culture.

Two years ago Lisa planted a food forest on a piece of her whanau's land behind the Marae. She hasn't visited it since. Until she brings Jamie and I there for a look into her secret garden. And that's exactly what it feels like. We're packing hack saws and giant vine cutters to battle through the spiny gorse and ruthless blackberry bushes. They tear at out skin and clothes, but Lisa knows the way and eventually we emerge in a clearing. The tall brush surrounds the area like a stone wall and there are fruit trees of every variety dotted across this picturesque hillside. Apple, peach, pear, plum, fijoa, current. One of Lisa's aunties joins us and adds to the sacred feeling of the place. I can't describe it, but her presence is unmistakable. And Lisa's energy is fresh and invigorating and motivating. When she speaks about this place her cheeks glow warmly and her eyes juice up and twinkle a bit. This is a special place. It brings out conversations between Jamie and I about the basis of human nature and instincts, about permaculture and life's patterns and cycles and how we view our role in the whole crazy beautiful thing. To say those things out loud is to fully realize and embody them and our words of hope and understanding and exploration may nourish the trees who will bloom and grow and nourish this community.

Permaculture. It's a fancy name for an instinct going extinct. To live connected to the land, a part of the systems and patterns. As much in sync with life and its synchronicities as the fungi that grow on the roots of trees. To see it playing out around me, to make the connections between what I've always noticed and what I'm discovering, it's a way of learning through observation and action, and I feel my muscle memory flexing. The second nature of how things are and can be, simple and pure and from the roots of existence, it's not so difficult to find when you're ready to find it.

We have lunch with another of Lisa's aunties. They explain the term auntie refers to an elder you regard highly, biological relation is not necessary. They speak in a lyrical mix of English and Maori, discussing family and stories and traditions. My contribution to this situation is just to listen and take it all in. These strong women leading by example in their community. Making differences by living life with intention, gratitude and reciprocity.

The ride back to Awhi is quiet, the reggae music gently humming from the portable stereo. We are floating and I feel a piece of this secret garden alive inside me and I've got a copy of the key, even if I never see it again.

10 Aug

Laying bricks on the dome. One by one by hand. Eying the shape and angle, then testing it against the catenary template. We have reunited with Sina and Dan. I'm so glad they're here.

Mireia and Josie dancing salsa. Javi and Dan battling at table tennis. Everyone having a go at the pool table. And billiards… what the f*** is billiards?! Lisa vibing in her beautiful world of sights and smells and colors. The R.S.A. in Turangi would be maybe the equivalent to an Elks club in Longmont. All the locals are members, everyone knows each other, the beer is cheeper, and twice a month there is live music from a very low key local band. Tonight it's the vocal stylings of Mercia, a trio who covers timeless reggae and 80's hits. Awhi Farm rolls in 9 deep to patron this establishment for a night out, and even receives a shout out at the end of the night. We are a family.

Long, big, lasting hugs. The kind that mean something. A connection. I've always wanted to give and be given these kinds of hugs. The kind that happen when two people care so deeply for each other that embracing is the only way to express that. Or are just so happy in that moment their bodies gravitate to harness or exchange that energy. Just kind touching in general. A kiss on the cheek, a squeeze for the hand. Affection. It's all around me here. Even when the energy isn't bliss, it's supportive and understanding. It's "I've got your back and you've got mine." What a community should be. We've only been here 3 weeks but I feel very much a part of it, even when I don't understand it.

My Awhi Family

11 Aug

Emptying compost toilets, cleaning the squash club, little need to do tasks for a rainy day. It's basic stuff but I can't imagine anywhere else I'd rather be. It's also freezing, so a group trek to the hot pools is a necessary move in the evening. It's the only way to raise your core body temperature since there is no real 'inside' at Awhi to hunker down.

We go heat seeking and have dinner at the truck stop to maintain our mineral buzz. And there's no better way to warm every molecule of your being than to share a deep, abdominal convulsing laugh with 7 equally crazy beautiful individuals. Role reversal. Girls with mustaches, boys with long curly flowing locks. Good thing we were the only ones in the joint, or passers by would certainly questions our sanity. And perhaps they should, because I'm out of my gourd in love with these people.

Pictures from Awhi: