Things that have crossed my mind or that I’ve seen as of late:
Went to the movies and forgot a warm layer. I don’t know why I can’t remember that as soon as I step off the sweltering streets, I’m at risk for pneumonia.
The movie theater allowed people to bring in their own food, and lots of it! Starbucks, Pizza Hut, take-out… it was amazing. More amazing: most people seemed to eat their very own medium pizza!
Settling in to third-world travel can be rough. I guess the nice term for it is “Culture Shock.” It might be more aptly called, “getting-used-to-the-stink-of-urine, broken-uneven-sidewalks, trash-everywhere, being-constantly-stared-at, being-propositioned-every-minute-by-a-peddler, choking-on-the-stench-of-moth-balls-at-grocery-stores, never-having-a-proper-toilet, not-being-able-to-eat-foods-you’re-used-to, and sucking-in-a-disgusting-amount-of-pollution.”
After a grueling marathon of trading my time for money, I am ecstatic to have so much freedom! This week has been filled with blissful moments, including right now here in
Brute strength for hire - Pat slinging 50 pound bags of laundry is all in a day's work
my “office” — leaning against the grassy high-water bank, gentle breezes playing with my as hair as tiny waves brush the shoreline and snow capped peaks keep a watchful eye on the setting sun.
My first taste of the aforementioned freedom landed me in the front seat of Pat’s Saturday delivery van.We headed several kilometers down the road, marking time by the vineyards sprinkling the pastoral countryside. Cromwell is the agri-hub of Central Otago, and properly home to a giant fruit statue mentioned in guidebooks. We took the
requisite photo and even got to go for a short stroll around “Old Town” – the charming remains that survived the creation of a reservoir
foreground - American tourists. background - the giant fruit statue!
that left a scar on many locals long ago.
Sunday was my first entire day off with Pat in over 40 days — since our anniversary. We celebrated properly! We followed up a casual morning with a bike ride along the incredible Clutha River. The emerald green water against the pale, autumn landscape is a show-stopper! We ended the first leg of our journey at the Luggate country pub where a young fiddler/pianist serenaded the crowd. After goodbyes, we pedaled a new route home, luxuriating in the late afternoon sun. All told we took in over 50 kilometers worth of spectacular vistas, and Pat fell in love with mountain biking.
One of the endless, breath-taking vistas of the Clutha River trail!
On a whim, we stopped into the notorious cinema and discovered we’d make the next show if we hurried. We caught “The Social Network” on its final showing and were appropriately charmed by the mis-matched seating for which the theater is famous — you can even take in the film from the front seat of an old car! I left the theater completely satisfied wearing a smile that foreshadowed the next day’s fun.
Despite a (formerly) packed work schedule, I still religiously scoured the local community bulletin each week for cultural, fun, or healthy community opportunities. Thanks to the sharp drop-off in my work commitments, I was finally able to make the native plant nursery volunteer mornings! The people were fantastic, the views from our tea-time platform were incredible, and I had forgotten just how much I love playing in dirt!
Vineyard View - amazing! The wine isn't bad either. 🙂
As a double bonus, not only did I receive a vowel key containing the first ray of hope that I might wrap my tongue around New Zealand’s bewildering and prolific Maori names, BUT I also found myself in the company of avid local backpackers who hold the key to wilderness you’ll never read about in any guidebook. Score!
The unique feature of the week has been several unhurried afternoons. We managed to do some free wine tasting at the local, biodynamic vineyard. The icing on the cake was the commanding view of the lake and islands from our hillside perch, complemented by an array of quirky sculptures belonging to an outdoor exhibition being hosted there. The following day, we also lucked into a peaceful moment at the hill top war memorial overlooking the downtown. This is the end of our New Zealand beginning, and it’s been rejuvenating to see so many new sides of Wanaka!
wanaka panorama
Finally, yesterday was one of my top ten days in New Zealand. My friend Hayley and I set off across the chilly Cardrona valley before the sun began to warm it, landing in Queenstown just as shop doors were opening. We couldn’t have imagined a more laid-back or productive day. We visited “op-shops*” galore, did a Warehouse** run, found an unlikely used book, got some shells drilled for jewelry making, recovered on the lakefront, shopped some MORE, AND managed a visit to New Zealand’s “most scenic” enclave.
One of dozens of Arrowtown's charming scenes.
We fell instantly in love with rural Arrowtown as we wandered its charming streets enjoying our ice creams and the rustle of the leaves in the sunshine. We didn’t want to come home! The only casualty of the day was one of my brand new gym shoes. It fell, without my noticing, out the side door in one of three “car parks.” Ironically, I was so smitten with having gotten new shoes I had actually photographed the new alongside the old the day before. What I thought would be a photo to illustrate my excitement to friends and family has become a memorial to the short life of shoes that traveled a long and complicated road to my feet. Despite dedicated recovery efforts, I’m still a shoe down. C’est la vie! Problems like this are a sign of a happy life, no?
*”op-shop” is the New Zealand nomenclature for a second-hand store, referring to the “opportunities” that grace the shelves and racks.
**The Warehouse is New Zealand’s version of Wal-Mart.
Tonight is Pat’s last evening at The Ale House. It’s compulsory to do “The Gauntlet” upon ending employment — 7 ounces of every beer on tap followed by a three shots chosen by co-workers. Our days in Wanaka are numbered, but we’re enjoying them immensely!
More photos here.
Living in a van wan’t easy, or always warm. By the end of our Mazda Bongo hippie van experience, we’definitely become experts on how to live the van life. Organization, less-is-more, and don’t sweat the small stuff!
We are back to living in a van again. When we first figured out how to live in a van back in December, it seemed like a pretty big deal. What started as a test of our ability to endure hardship, has actually become a pleasant existence! Thanks to my pastoral proclivities, hippie van living will probably not feature on any large scale in the next 40 years. For now, though, it’s great!
(Related: How Much It Costs to Live in a Van)
Rather listen than read?
Thanks to my commitment to fitness, this is not a problem. A look in my laundry bag reveals the mediocrity of my present life: work uniforms and workout clothes are all I need to do all I do. The first of my living in a van tips: join a gym, work out everyday, and shower thereafter. We did have one mishap when our gym wasn’t open!
Well, see #1. The gym is usually my first stop in my daily van life. If not, that means I went straight to work, where there are also toilets. In a pinch, touristy Wanaka luckily has lots of public restrooms scattered around the town. Grocery stores and gas stations are a last resort. This part of living in a van is not a problem in tourist towns.
Living in a van means having many bathrooms”
The grocery store. Ha ha! No, really. They have fruits and vegetables and whole grains and meat and everything. Okay”¦ the back of our hippie van has a wooden shelving unit that is our pantry. We have a “chilly bin” (cooler) for dairy, meat, etc., and we have two cookstoves on which the tall man makes delicious meals like stir fry, tacos, lentil stew, chicken and rice, etc.
Perks of hippie van living – your own personal bearded chef! Creating a good cooking set up is a big part of figuring out how to live in a van.
Laundry is tricky when living in a hippie van. It’s similar to RV living. We could hand wash in tubs, but laundromats are cool. I will own one some day.
In the hippie van! Okay, this can actually be a tough one.
We do our best to sleep for free. This is the point of living in a van, isn’t it? When we can’t we sometimes stay in campgrounds. For Americans who have to pay to camp, this friend referral link for HipCamp – like AirBnb for camping – will cut your cost by $20. In New Zealand, DOC has some really cheap ($5) or free campgrounds. In Canada, Crown Land can be camped on for free. Japan and Australia both have lots of free camping. In the US, you can camp free in National Forests.
Our hippie van “sleeping quarters.” Living in a van requires some logistical hurdles not unlike RV living, but it’s worth it!
But when you’re in a city like us, you have to be careful when sleeping for free. No one likes weird hippie van people parked in front of their house (at least I didn’t at my former residence). To make matters more difficult, there is actually an anti-van culture in New Zealand. As is common, the few have ruined living in a van for the many. 2Human waste has been found in places frequented by campervans, causing local communities frustration aimed at anyone living in a van. I suspect New Zealanders might look to their own citizens a little more often in the blame game — a recent police report elaborated on actually catching a local in the act. Nonetheless, the stereotype is stuck in the popular mind. To complicate matters further, many campervans are rentals with outspoken paint jobs. The worst are “Wicked” campervans complete with offensive quips painted across the rear of the van. One of the best living-in-a-van tips I can give is to be ready to deal with lots of stereotypes.
Living in a van can be difficult with awful hippie vans like this everywhere. How to live in a van 101: avoid wild paint jobs!
The local city council has hired a man with a passion for ousting campervans from public places. His name is Roy and he goes around at 4 a.m. pounding on the windows of any vehicle that looks like it could be slept in and announces that the police are “following him around” and will “be here in a few minutes to give you a $500 fine and take your van off you for up to two weeks if you’re still here.” A Kiwi friend of mine says he and his friends just tell Roy “where he can stick it” and Roy leaves nasty notes on their windshields, but that’s all. However, in May, a law goes into effect that allows campervans to be fined up to $20,000 for “freedom camping.”
So, how do we deal with this sensitive issue? Don’t laugh. I keep a chart of all the different places we’ve found to park while living in a van. I make sure that we don’t stay in the same place more than once in seven days. These spots include parking lots, quiet neighborhoods, industrial areas, and dead-end roads. We also vacate these places right around sunrise 3which in the height of summer’s longest days was a bit miserable. We’ve had offers from friends to park at their houses, but that’s a bit awkward since there is no social script for that sort of thing. Do you announce your arrival? Have a chat? Do you say goodbye? Do you just leave them be? If we got asked to leave someplace, we’d take a friend up on their offer. Let’s hope it never comes to that!
This is the best part of living in a van! The lakefront has a long, narrow parking lot with a dazzling view to accommodate all the tourists. The best wireless internet deal in town 4Internet is NEVER free in New Zealand. Even at the library!!! is from the information center on the waterfront. When I’m not at work or running errands, I park at the waterfront, write, email, organize myself, cook, do paperwork, make U.S. phone calls, clean “house,” etc.
Another perk when you live in a van, places like this are your front/backyard!
First of all, when not at work, I’m always “outside,” which I love. Also, the simplicity of living in a van is a beautiful thing. My mental health is directly related to how “organized” or “sorted” I feel. If I have lots of unaccomplished adult tasks in my life — laundry piled up, dirty dishes in the sink, floors need vacuumed, clothes need folded, clutter on the kitchen table needs put away — a sense of failure keeps me stressed out until those things are accomplished. At “home,” it’s common to deal with that stress by snuggling up with a book or vegging out on the internet or T.V. for hours. Living in a hippie van, you have to face the music. Everything takes place on the same surface, which, in its final hours, serves as a bed. Therefore everything has to be done by bedtime!
This is the essence of living in a van.
We try to tread lightly in our hippie van. We recognize that if everyone was living in a van, even if they were all New Zealand taxpayers like us, the resources that aren’t currently at capacity (parking, bathrooms, etc.) would be maxed out. I am thankful to get to try out this hippie van living and learn its lessons! ♣
Read about jobless, traveling van life in Hippie Logistics: Part II.
If you’re new to the lifestyle, you’ll relate to: Why a Hard-Working Perfectionist”¦ Doesn’t Want a Job
Flying to your van-travel destination? Get there with free flights!
When you want to take breaks from living in your van, Become a Housesitter.
If you need to cash up, consider these 24 Jobs for Travelers.
When you start craving being a part of something, Work Exchange!
References
| ↑1 | This how-to-live-in-a-van question posed to me by a lawyer from New York. |
|---|---|
| ↑2 | Human waste has been found in places frequented by campervans, causing local communities frustration aimed at anyone living in a van. I suspect New Zealanders might look to their own citizens a little more often in the blame game — a recent police report elaborated on actually catching a local in the act. Nonetheless, the stereotype is stuck in the popular mind. |
| ↑3 | which in the height of summer’s longest days was a bit miserable |
| ↑4 | Internet is NEVER free in New Zealand. Even at the library!!! |
Only two more weeks of work left in Wanaka!! Before we depart, I thought I’d record, for posterity’s sake, what it’s like here.
The Luggate Hotel (synonymous with "Pub") where I work a few times a week. (It's owned by the owners of the Bullock Bar where I also work).
My favorite thing about the town, of course, is the scenery. It’s a bustling, picturesque tourist hub. I couldn’t pull 70-hour work weeks for months on end in a city and stay reasonably sane. I need greenery, water, snow capped peaks, etc. I love waking up and spending my days under the watchful eyes of the “Wanaka Woman” – the town’s dominant ridgeline.
The "Wanaka Woman" watching over the town - I think she looks sort of like a regal mummy with her arms folded over her chest. But you can imagine what the popular opinion is.
The summer weather, by central Otago* standards, has been terribly “cold” and “rainy.” These terms attempt to express that it’s been more like 70’s and often overcast, than high 80’s and blazing sun. Because I gave up my summer to work when work is plentiful and placed my bet on a fantastic fall, I am a bit relieved. So far, it’s the right choice. Now fingers crossed for a warm autumn!
*Otago is the area in which we presently live. It’s sort of like a “state,” but NZ doesn’t have states.
Typical Wanaka architecture - so weird!
The architecture, specifically in the neighborhoods, can be quite strange. Apparently the avant garde style of the day is in futuristic materials with classic lines from the 1970’s. The look is very “Jetson’s,” and I can’t say I like it very much! However, wood and stone are also popular and have contributed to many beautiful structures.
One of my favorite Wanaka homes - I think the stones and wood take the edge off the 70's style.
Wanaka, by Kiwi* standards, is a very, very expensive town – one of the most expensive places in the country. Things are astronomically priced, in general. We can’t wait to see our monthly grocery bill plummet when we leave here. It will be interesting to start comparing Wanaka with the rest of New Zealand. To my shock, kiwi fruit — practically the national fruit — is $4 a kilo! A pint of cheap beer here is $6. It’s come to seem quite normal, but I guess it’s similar to the U.S. when considering the difference in minimum wage.
*I’ve said before that New Zealanders call themselves Kiwis, right? After a rare bird found here?
Random Wanaka adorations:
1) The mailman drives a moped. This is so funny to me. There are big vans for packages and the like, but all other mail arrives by moped!
2) No traffic lights! This is a common feature in all of New Zealand. Traffic circles are a cheaper alternative to lights and are used everywhere. It’s also far more common to have yield signs at major intersections. It feels a bit dangerous sometimes, but usually it’s just nice.
3) Pembroke Park — a giant expanse of nothing more than grass just off the six main blocks of town.
4) Bullock Creek — a quaint little stream that regularly cross in my comings and goings.
5) Stubbies! – this isn’t just Wanaka, but all of Southland, I’m told (Southland is equivalent to the Midwest in the states). Stubbies are what they call shorts that are higher than mid-thigh when worn by men. I find it hilarious that all these blue collar men are running around building things, doing construction, managing sewage treatment plants, farming and ranching, acting as plumbers and electricians and engineers while wearing insanely short shorts. I’ve taken to running down the street after them snapping covert photos.
Stubbies!
These are the same men who turn up for a “Deer Stalkers Demo” at the bar where I work. Imagine my mild surprise when I walk into the keg room to find two dead deer on the floor. By 8 p.m. that night, a stage was set up, a pulley was hung, and the bloody platform was surrounded by a transfixed audience of mostly beer drinking males. Wanaka!
Clockwise from top left - the deer in the chiller as seen from the bar; the demo; the deer in the chiller as I first encountered them; the aftermath and our new chef who "cooked off" "heaps" of the venison (it was amazing).
Overall, I like Wanaka lots. It would be an amazing place to come as a tourist. It’s a little sleepy from a resident’s perspective. I’m looking forward to being done with work in a few weeks and finally partaking in all the play Wanka has to offer — kayaking, amazing bike trails, wine tasting, glacier hikes, Puzzling World, in-town day hikes, etc. So excited!!
Deer/Elk farms are popular here. This one is by the airport. I drive past each time I work at the Luggate country pub.
So tonight, a couple from Minnesota wandered into the liquor store (“bottleshop” they say here) that I have to keep an eye on as part of my bartending duties. I conversed with them while they made their selection. While ringing up their purchases, they asked me, “Where did you get your accent?” Shockingly, they insisted that already I have somehow absorbed enough of New Zealand such that my speech and pronunciation are a bizarre cross of Kiwi and American English. Great.
The pub employing me has quite a reputation locally — seems like people either love it or hate it. I was enamored instantly. How can a Wyoming woman not be in love with a bar that has hunting trophies on the wall, cheap beer, old men, and country music? I’m only on day three, but so far it’s been fun! The hardest part is understanding orders. Late at night, after the good ol’ boys go home, we get slammed with 18-30’s.
The South Island beer – local blue-collar boys take much pride in this beer. Pictured here in a “stubby” – the slang for 12 oz. bottles.
The shorthand that people use for ordering drinks is all greek to me. A “lemonade gin” or “lemon-lime” gin is Gordon’s with 7up/Sprite. A “Mount Gay and Dry” is a brand of rum with ginger ale. A “CC Dry” is Canadian Club whiskey with ginger ale BUT generally they mean they want it already pre-mixed in a bottle. Ready-to-drink or RTD’s are quite popular here, and so I always have to clarify — am I supposed to make the drink, or do you want the RTD? The standard rum is Coruba. Bacardi is rare. The standard vodka is some Russian concoction, not Smirnoff. Pints are handles, pitchers are jugs. I’m supposed to understand that something like “I’ll ‘ave ‘un ‘uh Timmy’s” means to get a beer out of a crate in the back with Timmy’s name on it. Top it all off with the bewildering Kiwi accent, and I end up calling for a translator every twentith order!
And now for more on the Kiwi Quirks front:
My two favorite words to hear Kiwi’s say as of late are “keen” and “wee.” Wee means small or little and is almost exclusively used in place of those words. Because it seems like a very feminine word to me, it is hilarious to hear the many fellows who are “men’s men” use this term. i.e. (gruffly) – “When I was a wee boy, I remember these streets being full of people.” “We just take our wee grill when we go fishing.” “Sure, I’ll have a wee bit more.” Hilarious!
I hear “keen” at least once a day. It doesn’t directly translate across cultures, but can mean enthusiastic, would-like-to, want-to, interested, etc. Some examples:
“Did you hear the new restaurant opens for breakfast at 7:30?” (that’s EARLY for kiwi’s!)
“WOW! They’re keen, aren’t they?”
Or – “Are you keen to have a few beers tonight?” “If you’re keen, we’ll give you a call as soon as we know. “I’d been keen to have a look at your bike if you’re around.” Or “Are you keen to work up front?” (This can also be said, “Are you ‘quite happy’ to work up front?” But I’ve never heard something like “Is it okay with you if we have you work up front?”)
All in all, very entertaining. All is well in New Zealand!
We’re through with Auckland (for the time being) and have moved on to Christchurch (where all the earthquakes were recently) on the South Island! I’ll try not to be too dry as I squeeze lots of action into a few paragraphs!
So — in Auckland, we had more wonderful time with the Small/Blacketts (they are so fun!). We spent our working hours scraping anti-foul/bottom paint & deck paint off an old wooden sailboat. It will be fun to see it finished! Despite Tony’s flattering persistence to convince us to stay on, we won’t get to see it in person. (Although, we’ve talked about meeting up with them for a sailing trip when we come back north. FUN! And maybe some fish next time…)
Picnic with the Small/Blackett family
For a cultural experience, we got to go to an awards assembly at the school. Differences were the “heaps” of subjects that receive best-in-class awards — it ranges from math (they say “maths” here!?) to hospitality with a total of 20-some subjects. Also, kids are divided into different “houses” (like Harry Potter, I’m told) starting when they first enter the school. Far as I could tell, instead of one class leader/president, each “house” has one, so there are five at the school. More opportunities for leadership is neat.
Nick, Laurel, Pat and I strip and sand down Allegro
For sightseeing, we went to the Auckland Museum (this is akin to the National Museum), One-Tree Hill, and a famous beach — Karekare. The museum had tons of stuff about the Maori (original inhabitants of NZ). We learned that, unlike the U.S. where native populations were decimated by disease, the journey to NZ was so long that immigrants either recovered from their illness or died, which helped keep Maori population deaths more in check than elsewhere in history. NZ is known for tons of birds (the sea bird that is colored like a bald eagle catches my eye every day), and on display were Maori ways of catching them. My favorites were a long pole with a noose at one end, and a drinking trough lined with nooses that gets placed up in trees. We also learned how flax is processed for fiber. The “Volcanoes” was our favorite Natural History display, which included an interactive experience — sit in “your” living room watching a new volcano (Auckland has 50) being born (until the ash/plume flattens your house). The audio and moving floor made it a pretty cool experience!
A hike to “Dr. Seuss Land” from Karekare yields an amazing view
One-tree hill (volcano) actually has no trees at all anymore. It was the site of a Maori “pa” (defensible settlement) long ago. It’s been turned into a sight-seeing place that’s great for getting bearings — you can see much of the city, including both harbors (Auckland is one of the only cities in the world that boats two separate harbors — no wonder it’s the “city of sails!”).
Known both for beauty and a killer rip tide – moveable posts indicate which narrow strip of water is “safe” for swimming while a BP sponsored motor boat stands by for rescues
On our last days we went to the famous black sand beach — Karekare (ked-ee-ked-ee). We felt like we were on the set of LOST in Hawaii. We hiked up into the jungle, then out over a swamp and up the famous black sand dunes. It’s mind-blowing — the black sand is full of reflective minerals (silica?) and so it’s like looking at a brilliant night sky in the middle of the day! The paths leading up back to the parking lot (they say “car park”) felt like they were straight out of a storybook. So cool!
Pat at the summit of the massive black sand dunes that sparkle like the night sky
On Sunday, we went to a sculpture exhibition with the whole family in a military-fort-turned park. We loved the diversity and the interactive sculptures. Afterwards we had a picnic. Pat and I made quesadillas with tortillas from scratch! (Since they don’t have Mexico nearby, tortillas are hard to come by.) Our flight the next day to Christchurch was uneventful. Domestic flights don’t have the ridiculous security run-around that international flights do. We didn’t have to take off our shoes or jackets, we didn’t have to separate out our liquids — it was great!
Interactive Fun at the Sculpture Exhibit
Finally someone else steals the sky-high show
Now we’re on a car-finding adventure here in Christchurch while wwoofing with Yolanda. Funny thing, Yolanda is out of town on business, so her friend Annie is actually at the house in her place. Mostly we’ve just given her yard (another urban wwoof placement) a major overhaul and pulled nearly every weed on the property. We haven’t had much luck with the car stuff so far, probably owing to the fact that we couldn’t make up our minds about what we wanted AND we didn’t have a phone to contact any of the numbers in the ads. (Cell service is monopolized here and is horribly expensive — 21c a minute at the lowest, 44-89c usually. Texts are from 4-9c each!) Our hosts weren’t offering to help with phoning, so we bought a phone and SIM card. You, too, can call us! 022-011-seven193. NZ country code is 64.
One of my favorites – copper and frosted glass – each flower is only $450!
We’ve gotten to see a bit of Christchurch as we bike from hostel to hostel checking out the message boards. The earthquake damage is nil in some parts, and shocking in others — sort of like tornado aftermath. We’re off to look at some more vehicles. Wish us luck!
I’ll get the bad news out of the way first. The “vacation” stories won’t probably arrive on the scene until after the first of the year. Sorry to disappoint anyone sitting at a desk hoping for a non-stop adventure story, but I’ve been deeply submerged in regular, every-day life almost since we arrived. But it’s great!
Affordability is at the top of my priorities, and will be until I have my first New Zealand paycheck. I brought along $500 to last me until then. At a minimum of $25 a night for (shoddy) accommodation, I needed to find a way to get my bearings cheaply. Enter: work exchanges! We are using WWOOF NZ – Worldwide Opportunities (or Willing Workers) On Organic Farms.
A big pronunciation mis-understanding ensued with us both repeating the same word over and over and hearing two totally different things.
Before settling in to a job, I need to learn all the New Zealand systems – how to get a tax ID number, bank account, car, registration, warrant of fitness, etc. What’s appropriate for a resume, where are the not-to-miss spots, how much should rent be… the works! WWOOF is a program where workers volunteer four hours a day on a farm in exchange for accommodation and three meals. Perfect! (Although “farm” is very loosely defined.)
We spent our first two days in New Zealand at a hostel more suited to just-turned-18-partying-hell-raisers. Jet lag plus some blessed earplugs took care of me, though! On the second day we spent the day wwoofing with some people who own an inflatables-climbing wall-fun-on-the-go kind of business. Pat and I ran the “log joust” at a local “Light Party” (the church’s alternative to Halloween). In exchange, we’ll go fishing with them and stay at their farm next time we’re on the North Island.
After the hostel we moved to Steve and Joanne’s house. Their adorable, always smiling, two-year old Benjamin was great and they were incredibly thoughtful and fun to chat with. We cleaned the grass out of the backyard landscaping, explored the village up the road, and got fully adjusted. Then it was off to Justine and Tony’s (Jo’s brother). We cleaned up their front landscaping, helped with their rental cottage, planted some seedlings, painted Justine’s clinic windows, and are helping restore their classic yacht. We’ll be here until we fly to the south island.
The Small and Blacketts (Justine & Tony’s family) are hilarious. Tony is a clever, quick-to-laugh, easy-going guy. Justine is sweet, even-tempered, bright, and genuine. Emma – daughter number one – is a sharp-witted, adorably pixie woman in her first year at university. Grace -daughter two – is serious, smart, blunt, and charming. Hebe (hee-bee) (family friend’s daughter in town for school) is quiet, giggles, and is a brainiac (she got best-in-class in four subjects this year!). Family dinner time is endless entertainment!
And now a few more New Zealand observations:
There are lots of cool little efficiencies here. Steve & Jo have a slide-out cupboard in a tiny eight-inch wide by two-foot deep space. Their dishwasher is divided into two – much like a common oven with its warming drawer. Small loads don’t waste any extra water! Over 90% of toilets have two different buttons – one for #1 (some water), one for #2 (more water). And since the toilets are so efficient, the water doesn’t swirl around the bowl. So, I haven’t been able to experience the southern-hemisphere phenomenon of the water moving the opposite direction.
Bathrooms are different. It’s common for a household to only have one. The toilet is most often on its own in a tiny closet and the shower and sink are in a room next door. The shower door is just a half-partition, but somehow the floor stays dry! Walking into the bathroom (or any other room for that matter) is a bit confusing. The switches are exactly opposite – flip it down for “on” and up for “off.’ But the switches aren’t pegs like in the U.S. Instead they’re more like the switch on a power strip.
Spring is still in the air and I’m still getting used to the accent. Underneath the awesome Norfolk pines, jasmine is blooming everywhere and baby ducks are being herded along the sidewalks. I’m finally adjusting to the common greeting, “how are you going?” and can usually provide a timely answer. It will be “ages” until I figure out all the vowels. Over half the place names are Maori – Waitakere, Whangarei, Rangitoto, Manakou, Titirangi, Omaru, and on and on. I still say, “What?” a million (or “heaps” of) times a day. I hope it gets better!
On that note – a funny story to wrap things up. The other day Tony (sounds lots like “tiny” said “tah-nee”) said that a family friend was “fake.” Later I brought it up, curious about the cultural meaning of someone being “fake.” A big pronunciation mis-understanding ensued with us both repeating the same word over and over and hearing two totally different things. My end: “What does it mean when someone is fake?” Oh… no… not fake. Fake. “Yeah, fake. What kinds of things are fake?” No, not fake. Fake. I said she was fake. “I know… what does it mean though.” No, Fake. V-A-G-U-E. Fake.” The most hilarious part was later, recanting the story for Grace, when I got to the end (fake/vauge), she heard (fake/fake) and Tony had to clarify for her while rolling on the floor with laughter!
Stay tuned for more fascinating Kiwi quirks!
<<titirangi>
We’ve landed! New Zealand is great!
We got here sort of by accident. Neither Pat or I listed New Zealand as number one on our places to go in the world (mostly due to cost – we tend to dream of countries where our dollars go farther and the traveling is a bit more adventurous). However, New Zealand hands out work permits to Americans like candy (they need migrant workers) and the country contains never-ending mountain paradise coupled with an enormous landscape variety. So, we are quite pleased to be spending the next year near the bottom of the globe!
You might have to have a fossik.
New Zealand is a quirky little set of islands – two large and several small – more than 1,000 miles off the coast of southeastern Australia. Roughly, New Zealand is the size of California (a bit smaller). Or a bit bigger than Wyoming if it’s easier to think of that size. It’s known as “the land of the long white cloud” (we brought rain gear!) and has everything from the tropics on the North Island to full blown glaciers on the South Island. Can’t wait!
The biggest difference so far, besides the seasons, is the switched roads. Everything is on the opposite side. Having worked in left hand traffic over five years at the coal mine, I thought I’d have a leg up on the adjustment. Not so! Everywhere I look I see lonely little “passengers” in cars without drivers. I check both directions three times before crossing a road, and dash in a panic to the other side. It will be hilarious (and hopefully not disastrous) when I start driving!
It was a neat reminder – on the way in from the airport – to see a sign about the upcoming “summer” of possibilities! Spring is in full swing with the tree ferns unfurling. Billboards with eye-grabbing extensions seems to be popular here – a beaker with the bubbles going outside the traditional square, a man’s leg extending outside the usual space to demonstrate “leg room” on certain new flights. Oh, and coins here are made of heavy metals! I was shocked to pull my camera out of my pocket and find coins stuck all over the magnetic closure.
The road signs are different as well as the vocab. A red circle encompasses speed limits. Yield signs are the same shape, of course, but instead the command is “Give Way.” “Works End” means you’re out of the construction zone. A motorway is a highway, and a bonnet is a hood. “Sweet as” means “cool.” “No diapers allowed in trash can” becomes, “No nappies in this rubbish bin, please.” By way of directing me to search in a drawer for a rubber band, our host Steven told me, “You might have to have a fossik.” Volunteering in the hot sun, an event organizer offered drinks. I chose lemonade, and she returned with a Sprite! All drink of that sort (7Up, Fresca, etc.) are called lemonade here! I love that kiwis (New Zealanders) say “heaps” instead of “lot” and refer to your energy level in term of “beans.” As in “Benjamin still has heaps of beans left in him!” Or, “My, you’ve got a lot a beans to hike all that way.”
Some things are markedly more expensive, but minimum wage is more than double what it is in the U.S. With the worldwide exception of unsubsidized fuel (gasoline is about $7.40 a gallon here), most day to day things are the same price or just a tiny bit more expensive – especially food. We’ve eaten lots of peanut butter and fruit outside of the meals we share with our wwoof families.
We’ve had some interesting food finds. The cheese industry here has escaped the strange marketing that’s turned U.S. cheese a rainbow of yellow and orange. None of the cheese has color additives, making it all the color it was to begin with – white! Vegemite and marmite are popular toast spreads here. Basically, it’s low-sodium soy sauce that’s been evaporated into a paste. Pat says it’s gross. At the store, we found a new fruit to try – a tomarillo is like a long persimmon, is ruby red with black seeds, and tastes like a cross between a tomato and a melon. Yum!
Final observations – people here seem really friendly. There seems to be a really non-aggressive atmosphere. On the bus, instead of a sign like, “These seats are reserved for elderly and disabled persons” the sign said “Make the journey easier for elderly or disable persons. Give them this seat.” Speaking of the bus, we won’t be riding much. We’re off to the south island November 15th where we’ll buy a car (which we’ll sell back when we leave). The bus is expensive – about $5 a ride around the city, and less convenient than having a place to keep our stuff!
I’ll blog more later about what we’ve been doing since we arrived. We’re off to explore the little village up the road a bit more!
I’m sort of a believer in karma, so having great things happen always makes me want to hurry up and find more ways to be really, really good.
Pat and I (okay, really just me) had built a few extra days into our schedule to allow for whatever may come post-wedding. A few months ago, before the honeymoon was planned, Laurel had mulled over the idea of having a week-long friend gathering after the ceremony. I got into “make-room-for-anything-to-happen” mode and never got out.
As wedding activities drew to a close on Sunday, we were faced with the challenge of deciding which of our many, many Northwest friends we should fill our free days with. We love them all, and like children in a candy store, we were having a terrible time trying to chose. When I told Laurel about the dilemma, she came up with a brand new solution, “Why don’t you just stay here and think about it?”
Laurel’s parents are really wonderful people — smart, funny, engaging, interested, talented, friendly — so we were excited to stay and hang out with them and help wrap up the rest of the wedding chores. We had “whistle-while-you-work” kind of day. Nothing seems like a burden under the canopy of sweet-smelling ponderosas alongside the crystal-clear sunny river.
After Rhonda and Dave headed back to Portland on Monday, I started to chip away at the number one thing weighing on my mind over the past few months. Say it with me now”¦ “Catching up with my blog!” With a few days of nothingness ahead and no internet access or ringing phones to distract me, suddenly I saw the light at the end of the tunnel! After they left, I buckled down and started knocking-out entries left and right. Suddenly, I went from being a month behind to two weeks behind.
We launched the blue canoe and lazed our way down the river, greeting other folks out for a paddle. We made our way up a fun inlet where we canoed right up to the water gushing out of the ground. It was great! Because of the late hour, we turned around where Spring River flows into the Deschutes River (the main water source through this part of Oregon). Before docking, we paddled as far as we could under the footbridge upstream. It was great! That evening, after a dinner of delightful leftovers, including fresh Alaska smoked salmon, we took off on a hike down the Forest Service road.
I was surprised to see how far Laurel and I had run days before: I guess the scenery doesn’t register when you’re trying to keep up and avoid mosquitoes! We came around a corner and saw a huge rock in the middle of a side road. As we got closer, we realized it was a bird. Closer still, a gorgeous adult owl came into view. So majestic to watch it and see it finally fly into the trees! Another hike highlight: all the tiny tracks in the ancient volcano dust. For the longest time I thought they had to be baby bobcats, but there were just so many. Finally the most adorable little froggies you’ve ever seen caught my eye, diligently making their way across the chasms and mounds of dust in the road toward the water. Cute!
It was luxurious to lie in bed and read the next morning with the trees sunbathing just outside our second story window. After a long blog session I was finally just a few days behind and ready for a serious canoe trip. This time we paddled straight to the confluence, hoping we weren’t biting off more than we could chew. It was a tense thirty seconds before we claimed a small victory over the Deschutes current. It was strong, but couldn’t beat our consistent paddling. We had our moments, what with an impatient, demanding, former rafting guide in the engine room, and a greenhorn in the driver’s seat. However, we made it to the bridge where most boaters put-in (the goal) and beyond. To our dismay we later discovered just a bit farther upstream the Little Deschutes joined the main — a whole other playground awaits! Guess we have to save *something* for next time.
When we sat down that afternoon to plan our exodus the next day, I learned that Pat has still never been to Crater Lake. I’ve been so many times, I can never fathom that there’s anyone who hasn’t. We added it to the agenda, and then started thinking about other sights we might squeeze in. We missed out on the trips to the lava sights near the cabin on account of our wedding exhaustion, so we started gathering info so we could pick the best one. As the list of possibilities grew, we lamented the fact that we’d missed out on so much. Then we started asking ourselves when we’d have another chance. Then we convinced ourselves that we’d be crazy not to put off responsibilities just one more teeny-tiny day while we appreciated more of the area’s natural history. Then we decided to get a jump start on our list and headed out to catch Benham Falls before sunset!
The following day was for sure, definitely our last day in paradise. First we checked out the Lava Tubes in the Lave Cast Forest — a fun one-mile loop where lava flow poured through 6,000 years ago. The lava river built up on the upstream side of trees and hardened before the trees burned away, leaving tubes to the bottom of the flow. Neat!
Then we went to the visitor’s center to answer the many questions we’d been asking each other about surrounding volcanic activity. There we learned that pumice is the only volcanic product that floats, the end-product of lava flows depends on the amount of silica and gas in the magma, and the “dust” we’d hiked through the other night was ash from when Crater Lake (formerly Mount Mazama) erupted 7,700 years ago. We also got a “fast-pass” for the Lava Butte Overlook (limited parking). With over an hour to go before it was our turn, we decided to squeeze in the Lava River Cave.
I would not, for your information, recommend “squeezing” in the cave. It’s too big, and there are too many tourists. But we did it! At the sight of the “lanterns for rent” sign, I cursed the fact that all our sources of light were sitting on the cabin counter instead of in the car where they belonged. We didn’t know what to expect, so we thought we’d try our luck with the light giving devices we did have. I won’t embarrass myself by telling what they were. Suffice to say they were insufficient. Pat rescued us by hitting up an outgoing group for use of their lantern. For a few dollars we got the grand view! Cave highlights were the place it passes under the highway (fun to think about), the sand gardens, the echo chamber, the double tube, and the terminus where the ceiling shrinks and some 1930’s men dug a passage.
We raced out of the cave to make our Lava Butte time with two minutes to spare. The view was incredible as we walked around the edge of the cinder cone — Mt. Bachelor loomed in the distance with South Sister, Broken Top, Middle Sister, and North Sister hot on its tail.
Maniacs that we are, we decided we could still make it to the Newberry Crater. Some tense navigational moments delivered us pretty efficiently to one of the crater’s gorgeous obsidian flows. We enjoyed the lake views from the pinnacle of the hike and took cheesy photos among the huge, light pumice stones and captivating black glass.
After a stop at the falls, it was finally time for dinner. We restocked at the Sunriver Country Store, then made an amazing quinoa/veggie/peanut curry. We ate hunched over a map while making a research outline for our future travel plans.
In the morning, we enjoyed breakfast in the sunshine on the dock, did the post-wedding cabin deep clean, and headed off to Crater Lake. I’ve always been with a different person, and often in the winter in 10-20 feet of snow. For the first time, I hiked down to the bottom with Pat. We spent a luxurious afternoon diving into the pristine waters and cliff jumping (Pat).
It’s a bit scary even just swimming when you can see all the way to the bottom (50 to 70 feet!) – better than any tropical destination I’ve ever visited! If you’re afraid of heights, a panic attack would be in order. Jumping from the cliff, a 30 foot jump easily looks like a hundred. It was the perfect end to our glorious mini-vacation. Then we were off to Arcata to see my CASA kid, catch up with electronic/internet chores, visit friends, and research the next leg of our journey!
Hungry for more? More time? More money? More health? More wholeness?
Hungry for less? Less rushing? Less pressure? Less stress? Less fractured attention?
Please come on in! I’ve been collecting wins and losses for a few decades (and counting). I hope sharing them helps you on your adventure through your one wild and precious life.
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