Black Belt Tramp

Posed on the precipice

“Tramp” in the mind of some Americans, is a dis-used word that deragatorily describes a certain “type” of woman. Alternatively, it is a grey mutt in a Disney film — as in “Lady and the…” To Kiwis “tramp” is something you can do, something you can go on… and for those who like that sort of thing, it’s a lot of fun! Pat and I confess that we’re among the latter crowd. In fact, it was what sold us on New Zealand — the endless, beautiful tramps the country has to offer.

I consider myself advanced or experienced when it comes to tramps. I’ve spent lots of time in the field, I have all the gear, and I have even taken classes on the subject. But nothing could have prepared me for New Zealand’s tramps. When Pat and I researched our first New Zealand tramp, the warnings of difficulty fell on unsympathetic ears. In the U.S., a “difficult” tramp rating usually means the participant will be uncomfortable if they can’t sprint the length of a football field. As we strapped on our backpacks loaded with synthetic clothing, water, backcountry food, a tent, and a cookstove, we hadn’t even begun to imagine what the Cameron Creek watershed had in store for us.

We didn’t want to park our possession-filled van on the roadside unattended for days, so we tried our hand at hitching up to Cameron Flat. It wasn’t long before Nicole, a raven-haired teenager from a small town an hour away, picked us up. Despite the missing back window and exhaust-filled car, we had a nice chat during our 20km ride with her.

The sign in the parking area warned us again about “experienced only” and “quality significantly diminished beyond lookout.” We forged ahead! We kept pace with a European mother/daughter duo who eyed our packs with curiosity. At the lookout they turned back and we quickly learned that “quality diminished” in kiwi-speak means “fallen into dis-use/overgrown/washed out/landslide filled.”

On our way to Cameron Hut we experienced hours of literal climbing and descending — a constant 5.5 -5.8 for those of you who know rockclimbing — all the while poised halfway up a steep canyon wall. The ground wore a slippery layer of tiny tree leaves akin to chainsaw leavings. Glints of freshly cracked slate slabs , towering rock faces, and a crystalline creek were amazing distractions. After two hours, we arrived at our first New-Zealand-style river crossing. Bridges are for wimps, apparently. We assumed the position (for a two-person swift water crossing) and made it across without being torn down by the icy, rushing stream. After three more hours of constant ravine and landslide crossings in waterlogged boots, our glorious grassy river flat complete with remote moutain hut appeared!

For the first time in my life, at the end of a backcountry slog, I entered a tiny building and lit a fire in a cast-iron stove. Seredipitously, we had the cascading waterfall, cozy bunks, and quiet night sky completely to ourselves. We spent the next day bushwacking straight up the mountain behind the hut, literally crawling through thickets for half the day. The view was its own reward, and I made friends with all the local flora! Our trip out was just as adventurous as the journey in, and the infamous “world heritage” highway was a welcome sight. To our delight, an Englishman named Patrick responded to the beckoning of our thumbs within minutes of arriving at the roadside. His kind assistance in getting us back to our temporary home was the perfect end to our first New Zealand Black-Belt backpacking trip!

More photos at: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=249516&id=500324216&l=7f4a7f4fb4

Pony Haircuts, Poo Soup, & Playing Chicken

Project “Sleep-in-the-Van” had a fairly smooth start. As Christchurch faded in the distance, we eagle-eyed the roadside looking for prime spots that we could 1) not bother anyone or trespass, 2) get away from the traffic. After a stint next to a farmer’s field getting everything sorted out for the night (the van came with tons of stuff — some useful, some taking up precious space), we found a picnic area just down the road. Although it wasn’t as far from the highway as we’d like, we still bedded down to a gorgeous sunset on the mountains and the sprinklers ch-ch-ching away.

We set an alarm for five (yes, a.m.), lest we overstay our welcome, and awoke to mooing cattle, and waddling ducklings. When we stopped for gas in Ashburton, Pat supported my pact with myself to invest some of my travel time into my health. He filled up and babysat the van while I explored the 7 a.m. small-town-life in my sneakers. Then it was off across the Nebraska-like flat farm lands, toward our next wwoofing spot in Makarora. We passed sheared sheep, amazing red stag herds,

, half-grown lambs, and even saw elk! Scotchbroom has taken over here just as much as it has in the States (Oregon!), unfortunately, so lots of that, too. Some kind of hawk was plentiful alongside the road as the flat farm land finally gave way to rolling hills. Give me elevation, or give me death!

Through the window of a not-yet-open shop in Geraldine, we saw the world’s largest sweater – the “Giant Jersey”!

As we climbed out of Geraldine, lupine

all shades of the rainbow began to dot the roadside. For the next five hours, the countryside was covered in a candy-like tapestry of lupine. Our pit stops for the day were beside huge, emerald blue lakes with Mt. Cook and its neighboring peaks towering in the background. The water is an indescribable color — like a murky blue raspberry jolly rancher. Gorgeous!

In the late afternoon, we finally arrived at Chris & Emily’s. They are an awesome family, and we’ve been having tons of fun with them and their children. Hunter is a little six-year-old warrior, and Evie is a charming four-year old with a head full of red ringlets. Cute! We kicked off our first day of work with a pony haircut. Dudley has a horse disease that makes his hair grow profusely. The closer it gets to summer, the more miserable his yak-like coat is for him. We took the scissors to him — not a pretty job, but he’s comfortable. Form over function, right? Then we rid one of the gardens of thistles and fed all the young plants “poo soup” (which is exactly what it sounds like).

The view from Chris and Emily’s is absolutely stunning. Mt. Turner (sounds like “Tuna” in kiwi-speak) reaches just a bit higher than the surrounding snow-capped peaks. We can see Lake Wanaka glittering all day long a few miles down the valley. The country side is spring-green, and it’s early mountain summer everywhere we turn. Between working in the garden and in the yard, we’ve managed to see nature’s “Blue Pools” up the road, meet tons of locals at a community BBQ, and end up as honorary staff members at an employee cheese and wine evening at the local resort. I’ve also been adoring the use of Emily’s road bike — endless paradise is excellent motivation!

Our big excitement tonight, housesitting for the family while they’re on their weekend getaway, took place in the chicken coop. Somehow, a mother hen and her three chicks ended up on the floor of the coop. The chicks can’t get back up to the nesting box themselves, so we had to move them. The recipe for hilarity is this:

  1. Find a pecking, frantic mother hen in attack mode
  2. Add freaked out baby chicks trying to stay with mom
  3. Squeeze a Gentle Giant (Pat) and a Fiesty Female (Me) into a space the size of a tipped-over refrigerator box (the coop).
  4. Arm Giant with a cricket bat, toy shield, and leather gloves
  5. Arm Fiesty with plastic lid (shield), long sleeves, and leather gloves
  6. Attempt to gently separate chicks from mom using shields and bat while crouching in coop.
  7. Let explitives fly.
  8. Repeat 6 and 7 for ten minutes

No chicks or mother hens were harmed in the writing of this blog, and everyone is safe and sound back where they belong!

More photos at: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=247622&id=500324216&l=e757f4bf09

Have Van, Will Travel

I am officially, sort of against my will, a hippie! Yes, I am now the dubiously-proud owner of a 1994 Mazda Bongo van with mattress.

Our trusty twelve month home/storage unit.

I don’t know how it came to this. Okay, I do. Except for a brief stint in my teens, function has always triumphed over form. Originally, a wagon was our goal — economic, not-a-van, and a place to lay our heads instead of shelling out $50-100 to sleep every night. An attempt to fold Pat’s 6’7” frame into the back of a Subaru Legacy was the moment of truth, and the reality of van ownership slowly sunk in.

Van shopping was a piecemeal task. Astoundingly, New Zealanders do not know about and do not use Craigslist (although it is available)! The closest thing is Trade Me, but it’s like Ebay. Our best option was to bike from hostel to hostel scanning message boards and calling van owners. On Sunday, we went to the Canterbury Car Market — a parking lot where sellers and buyers can meet up. Throughout the week we test drove seven vans. Most, mechanically speaking, have been run into the ground by apathetic or unknowing short-term owners. Bad shocks, black-black oil, mismatched tires, shoddy alignment, corroded radiators — you name it. We finally settled on the most mechanically sound van we found, which isn’t saying much. We’ve got our fingers crossed that the transmission carries us through the next year without a hitch!

As luck would have it, a couchsurfing visit to the tiny town of Birdlings Flat worked out amongst the van acquisition antics. We stayed with “Wheelie Mike” – a retired sheep shearer and deep sea fisherman. Birdlings Flat is about the size of… Rozet for you Wyomingites, Hyattville for the Californians, and Cheshire for the Oregonians. Half the time, they’re not even a dot on a map. It’s a collection of about 40 houses tucked beneath a volcanic bluff by the sea — no store, pub, or post office to speak of. Wheelie Mike’s is a hub of activity, and thanks to the “drop on by” community mentality, we got to meet half the neighborhood!

Mike’s son Bradley escorted us down to the roaring sea — he on his dirt bike, we in the all-wheel-drive golf cart on steroids. I found my first agates ever (finally!) and watched the terrifying, pounding surf. Although Mike is technically a quadriplegic, he still has some use of his arms/hands. Enough that he had dinner half done by the time we made it home! We drank Speights (the local beer), traded stories, and met neighbor after neighbor well into the night!

The next day, we finally got to play tourist in New Zealand’s largest south island city. Besides the stunning cathedral on the main square, my favorite part of the day was the art gallery. They are currently running a Ron Mueck sculpture exhibition that’s all the rage throughout the country. He makes stunningly life-like sculptures, save for their size. All are either larger or smaller-than-life. My favorite is “Wild Man” – a terrified looking mountain man sitting on a block. (see photo).

A city girl, I am not, and so at the end of the day, I was happy to head off into the sunset (sort of… it actually wouldn’t be dark for hours.)

More photos, if that’s your thing, at:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=245726&id=500324216&l=05eafbf507

Automobile Search and Rescue

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!

Will Work For Food

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>

First Impressions

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!

Serendipity Strikes Again

The last two months of my life (September and October 2010) have been really strange.   I never saw them coming.   By the time Pat and I decided we wanted to cross the Pacific on a sail boat, we were running the wedding gauntlet (three others… not ours) full swing.   Without time for research and planning, we were forced  to live in the moment – a double edged sword for sure.

After the dust settled we found out sailing would require  more waiting than we were willing as would teaching English in South Korea.   We struggled to mentally cross reference all we knew about weather, seasons, our budget and related factors for five continents.   Unable to figure out the “right” place to go, we sought out guidance and good ears from friends.

In the meantime, I had my heart set on spending some significant time with my CASA kid.   She’s stable enough now that they won’t give her another CASA (other children need it more).   So, I’ll continue to volunteer with her from abroad with skype dates, phone calls to people in her life, and bi-annual court reports.

Once Pat and I finally managed to pick a destination, we were left with several weeks free before departure.   Budget stickler that I am, I carried too much stress about our finances.   The funds I’d set aside got divided into two categories – money for “summer” and for “abroad” – with the latter sworn to be  touched only when I was no longer on American soil.   September and October didn’t get counted in either category, so we had plenty of opportunity to practice restraint (stress out!).   We tried madly to work as we moved about with very mild success.   With plenty of support, we made visits to friends and family on the West Coast, in Wyoming, in Arizona, and finally L.A.

As a major life change approaches, I’ve been quite reflective.   Several times a day a wave of gratitude captures my thoughts.   In my six months of vagabonding, I have gotten to see and reconnect with more people and with greater frequency than I probably ever will again.   Being a professional house guest has also been enlightening.   It’s been such a privilege to share intimately in the lives of so many of my friends and family.   This is the stuff great memories are made of!

Now, eight weeks after our last wedding, we are about 90 minutes from boarding our Air Pacific flight to New Zealand via Fiji.   Now, six full months after I willingly “retired,” I am ready to be  employed again!   Work visas in hand, we are setting off indefinitely to have an adventure that pays us.   We hope to stockpile enough resources for significant onward travel.   Wish us luck!

Wedding #3 – Vegas Opulence

I  have known Chris Williams, I guess, since we were three years old.    Our moms worked at a bank together when we were wee  things.    In junior high, we formed a nerd trio with Kevin Norelli  and habitually stayed up all night on ICQ (the original IM program).    Then, in high school, we ended up in the same driver’s ed class, then on the DECA team and in Speech & Debate (I already said we were nerds).    When we weren’t being dramatic, typical teenagers, Chris and I were best friends.    I harassed him plenty when I thought he wasn’t making good choices, and worried about his future more than I probably should have.    Now, he has found one of the most amazing, beautiful, spunky, sweet, charming, down-to-earth women I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, AND he talked her into marrying him!    Together they hosted the most epic wedding weekend ever to hit Las Vegas!

Pat and I had a day to regroup in Portland (Vancouver, really) with Sochetra and Jeff before boarding the plane to Nevada.

With Sochetra, it seems we always pack in more fun than there are hours in a day.    Somehow we managed to hike Mt. Tabor, visit a delightful Por Que No, find  dress shoes for Pat, cook an amazing rib dinner, hang out all night with Magalie  and Todd, play scrabble with Terri, AND hunt down new Chacos for me at REI!    (After 8 years, 3 continents, and hundreds of miles, they finally blew out in Boise.    Yes, I know you can get new straps, new soles, etc., but I think I’m ready for new everything).

The next day we repacked and were off (thank you so much, Sochetra!) to the party plane (thank you Mr. Park!).    There were 80 of us on the 120 seat flight who were headed  to see Chris and Julie tie the knot.    Pat and I sat next to the best man and participated in various flight shenanigans, not limited to picture taking, note passing, and general debauchery planning.

Vegas wasn’t as boiling as it could have been when we landed and we let a taxi whisk us and our weekend double date (Maureen and Burt) to the Bellagio.    I don’t know much about Vegas, but am told  that the Bellagio  is one of the most swank accommodations  on the strip.    Fun!    I loved the lobby ceiling full of glass flowers, the disney-like atrium display, and our classy king room.

We unpacked our suitcases (okay, backpacks – of course) and heated up the iron.    We had a few hours to relax before the incredible Friday night, pre-wedding cocktail party.

Pat and I were on one of the first busses out to Julie’s (the bride to be) Grandpa’s house and got to meet some of her east coast friends.   Her Grandpa has one of those unique, massive houses/estates on a golf course in Vegas.   The party entrance was really fun: Vegas show girls greeted us at the gate, the servers dressed like grooms and brides (in white, 20’s flapper dresses!) and lined either side of the driveway with drinks.   A black tie performance group serenaded us, red and black party furniture lined the patios and poolside, and waiters plied us with all sorts of delightful hors d’oeuvres.   We all spent the evening swapping Chris and Julie stories, hanging out by the water with our toes in the sand, admiring Grandpa’s auto fleet, and drinking a bit too much.   On the way home, I talked to Julie’s dad who I guess spent time growing up in Humboldt (Grandpa was in lumber, I heard).   Neat!

Obviously Saturday required some sleeping in.   We had lunch at the Miracle Mile under my favorite Vegas atmosphere — the remains of Aladdin’s Castle — with Mo (Maureen).   Pulled-pork nachos are absolutely to-die-for!   After a bit more recovery time, we slipped into our fancy duds for the ceremonial evening.

We started with “pre-ceremony refreshments” in one of the Bellagio ballrooms.   Gluten sadness kept me from many of the trays, but there were still a few delights in which I could partake!   We also had some killer photo ops next to these ridiculous bird statues.   Awesome!

The ceremony itself was really unique.   The room was bathed  in shades of blue and purple with leaf stencils lining the ceiling.   Ferns and lots of greenery covered the altar and gazebo.   An opera man and his piano sidekick entertained us as we waited for things to get started.   An acapella  choir was first down the aisle, followed by bits and pieces  of the beautifully appointed wedding party.   My favorite parts were probably Julie’s gorgeous red dress (she shunned the traditional white”¦ yay!) and the bouquets — instead of flowers, they were Swarovski  crystals.   How cool!   The ceremony was short and sweet.   Chris’ uncle, who is a pastor in Wyoming, was the officiant.   I was a little surprised, given that Chris and Julie have so many friends who aren’t allowed to marry their partners at this point in time, that the ceremony had a prevalent “God made man, man cleaved to woman” section.   I guess the trying part of weddings is pleasing everyone.   Then we got to see the gorgeous new couple walk back down the aisle!

We returned to the first ballroom for a fun hour of merrymaking and cocktails, complete with Vegas show girls and Sailor Men photos ops.   The dining and dancing that followed was unforgettable.   Dinner was heavenly — beef, sea bass, and myriad delights.   And of course being a four-scoop ice cream fanatic, I about died when I found out about the gelato bar.   YUM!

The speeches were great, and the band emcee was really lively.   They had a really fun “guest book.”   They brought in a photo booth.   Guests took turns in the booth and then got one strip to take home and one to make a guest book page on the spot.   I would definitely add this one to any wedding!   We also got a surprise drag show later in the evening; the crowd went wild to Britney Spears, Madonna, and Whitney Houston!   Somewhere in all the dancing, singing, and patio cigar smoking it was time to go.   So sad.   But the fun didn’t stop there!

We took the party to the Fontana Lounge where we had to sneak in half our group who had changed out of their wedding duds.   Burt and I danced until we couldn’t dance anymore.   The rest of the night, I’m told, involved lots of Red Bull, Vodka, The Flamingo, and a long walk up and down the strip in search of karaoke.   At least I got some exercise!   Sunday morning I was grateful to find myself in my hotel room.   Luckily, we made it down to the brunch right around noon.   I was thankful for the opportunity to rehydrate  and add some nutrients back into my cuerpito!

Afterwards, we promptly went back to sleep until my awesome friend Jerri Moro arrived.   Jerri is one of my favorite people and I’m really sad she and I don’t live in the same town.

Serendipitously, she started a teaching job in St. George (an hour from Las Vegas) at the beginning of August.   Reunion!   I always have so much fun with her, and this time was no different.   We relaxed poolside for the afternoon until we were joined by the  desert wind gods.   Then we suited up for an evening downtown (the old Vegas) with Burt and Maureen.   Jerri took us to a great pub, we oogled  the spectacles lining Freemont, played roulette (my first time!), and then found a blackjack dealer named Honey who kept us well entertained until the wee hours of the morning!

I got to share the heavenly pork nachos with Jerri the next day before she caught her ride back to St. George.   Pat and I set out to explore the strip, ride the coaster at New York, New York, see the lions at the MGM Grand, etc.   We kept bumping into Sara, Inna, and Shawn, so we finally acquiesced to fate and joined up with their lot for the coaster fun.   Riding a roller coaster in the middle of the day is lots different than  at an amusement park.   Generally you see the coaster in the distance, you stand in line and watch and listen to others taking their turns, you get a full preview of what you are about to be  subjected to.   Not so on a Vegas coaster.   It’s ding, ding, ding, chat, chat, chat and then click, clack, click, clack into the sunshine.   Suddenly you are approaching the clouds.   And then you can’t see the track anymore in any direction.   And then you are falling.   AHHHHHH!!

For the rest of the day we saw the lions, ducked in and out of casinos on the strip, and ended up back at the Miracle Mile’s Neilsen Ratings office.   We got $30 to taste coffee creamer  and watch a TV pilot, which doubled in value if you used it to buy food next door.   We did, and Pat was blessed  with days worth of restaurant food for his belly (thanks to a digestive freakout, I couldn’t participate).
Finally it was time to go home!   We were all completely wiped out, and the party plane back was pretty quiet.   Joe’s (best man’s) awesome siblings ended up giving us a ride to our car in Vancouver.   They were so fun to hang out with and very forgiving when I realized my knowledge of how to get to our destination assumed originating in downtown Portland.   Ooops.

All in all an epic, unforgettable, pleasantly exhausting wedding weekend.   Yes!

Wedding #2 – Summer Camp!

I have officially been educated.  Who knew a it was still possible, in the USA, to have the most efficient route on a 600-mile  stretch not include an interstate?

The drive from the isolated coast of Northern California to Boise, Idaho is still very much a wild land criss-crossed by lonesome two-lane highways.  Miles of it qualifies as other-worldly.  Oh, and HOT.  We were in danger of vaporizing on not less than three occasions in twelve hours.  Thankfully, we arrived to a late gathering of young folk and a rousing round of cocktails.

The following day was the official bachelor party!  We started off with a round of golf at a fancy course where glorious water features abound.  I changed my mind at the last minute and decided the once-in-a-lifetime-bachelor-party-fun-day was not the day for me to learn to play golf.

Instead I enjoyed adult beverages, dipped my toes at bridge crossings, played in the sand when appropriate,  took a few swings with advice from the golf-pro in our party, drove the cart, and in general had a great time.

That night was filled  with classic bachelor party shenanigans.  Suffice to say we had so much fun that it was all we could talk about for the next two days.  The die hards ended the night singing at the top of our lungs to Greg’s guitar playing while smoking cigars.  Poor Austin didn’t last and ended up with a giant mystery bruise.

Austin!  Allow me to introduce the groom – aka one of the greatest college pals in the world.  Ironically, although we started off our U of O tenure in the same dorm, our friendship didn’t blossom until later.  My good friend Amy, who knows everyone, probably gets the most the credit: one day she and I were traveling across campus and she said, “Hey.  There’s that kid Austin.  Let’s go talk to him.”  And the rest is history – a history of beer drinking, video games, college sports, country music, team spirit, fooseball, and ridiculous late night dance parties.

 The recovery day was pretty uneventful, besides our constant re-living of bachelor party moments.  Before we knew it, Friday had arrived.  Time to load up and head for camp!  Bring on the college reunion!  Shortly after Daniel (college friend) and his awesome British girlfriend Ella arrived, we piled into vehicles for the journey north.  Dana, Austin’s bride-to-be, grew up attending summer camp at Paradise Point on the stunning Payette Lake outside of McCall, Idaho.  It has been her life-long dream to be married there, so the lucky wedding attendees got to have a fantastic weekend at camp!

The rehearsal dinner was  a great party at Dana’s grandpa’s cabin.  The front-lawn rehearsal broke the ice when Dana burst out laughing (okay, everyone said it was a snort) as soon as Austin started saying his “vows.”  We were all practically rolling on the grass and had to be  called to order.  Dana’s awesome mom, Jena (Gina),  made killer pulled pork, and the keg had been tapped  on arrival.  By the end of the night, young and old were engaged in adolescent card games, keg stands, and general debauchery.  It was great!

Being in the groom’s party  made for a relaxing Saturday morning.  We hung out and told stories until the cabin started to fill up and Austin needed a reprieve.  We took a tourist trip to the grocery/general store before it was time for me to join the ladies for a hair appointment.  Hours and half a can of hairspray later, I looked quite silly.  Lesson learned – I’m sticking with simple for the rest of my life!  The next few hours were a back and forth between the bride and groom’s parties – the hardest part of being an honorary dude.  I wore my purple dress with dignity, but told Austin next time they get married I’m wearing pants!

Pre-ceremony was fun –  dressed, ready, and having a few drinks during our photo shoot on the dock.  Then it was time for their beautiful ceremony in the outdoor chapel.  It was such an honor to have a front row seat to watch someone I “grew up” with get married!  The post-ceremony photos were taken on a cliff overlooking the lake – an INCREDIBLE view.  WOW.

Then it was time for food!  Dana has worked for a catering company the last few years in exchange for them catering the wedding (I was told).  The ahi-skewers, cheese and fruit platters, fancy appetizers, salmon and wasabi pesto creations – all of it was to-die-for.  We danced the night away, kept the party rocking around the beach bon-fire, and even went swimming in our birthday suits!  I did sustain a major mystery injury somewhere in my left shoulder/neck/back – probably as a result of BUI  (breakdancing under the influence), standing awkwardly while I was sewn into and then later cut out of my groomsmaid dress, and finally leaping into freezing water in the middle of the night.

The next morning I inched my way from our cabin to the breakfast hall with the help of my wonderful man and consumed copious amounts of bacon and eggs.  Yum!  Eventually we had everything loaded in the trailer, camp was picked  up, and we all zombied our way back to Boise.  We spent the day recovering and helped take Austin’s family to the airport the following afternoon.  By Tuesday, we were back on our feet and ready to party!  We celebrated the new Mr. and Mrs. Browning with an awesome evening of karaoke at one of their old haunts, and headed back west the next afternoon.  Bring on wedding #3!

Recharge & Reload in Humboldt

Our ten day  hiatus in Arcata was a close-to-perfect mix of work and play.   To keep use of the local gym, I worked several shifts in the “Kid’s Korner.”   In exchange, I was able to do yoga, go to Zumba, lift weights, and catch a few TV programs on the Cybex.   I also got to spend lots of time with my CASA kid making meals, watching movies, and celebrating her birthday.   Pat’s former roommate and her boyfriend, who took over our old apartment, generously let us stay in our old guest bedroom.   We entertained each other with travel stories and even got to introduce them to Japhy’s — the best soup shop in the world!

 Retired life still has its responsibilities (true!), but the impact of the consequences for not taking care of business isn’t as serious.   I mean to say that I gave into the hedonist in me on several occasions.   Shortly after arriving, I let my momentum and urge to finish everything I start keep me up all night uploading photos, uploading blog posts, returning emails, and researching what it would take to break into the narrative-fiction-travel-writing scene.   On a Wednesday, I stayed in bed until late afternoon reading the book I’d become addicted to (“The Help”).   Pat was a supportive angel, not mocking my laziness *and* bringing me food!

Between researching our next big step, managing our dwindling finances, maintaining the car, catching up on my CASA case paperwork, and finishing wedding-related shopping, we got to see friends!

We rekindled our Humboldt social life by attending Tai’s awesome birthday sushi celebration, followed by an appearance on Arcata’s “nightlife” scene.   We also shared a pretty amazing BBQ dinner with our Humboldt family — the Shaw/Haskett’s.   Somehow, my returns to the north coast have coincided precisely with my first book group, so I got to see those lovely ladies  yet again!   (This was a big night, as I ended up with the addictive book they just read *and* a costume for an upcoming themed birthday party!)   We also got to meet up with Tai and my former co-worker Erika at my favorite Mexican hot-spot for dinner one evening.   Pat made the amazing Lime Peanut Coleslaw for a potluck at our friend Nathan’s house where we met some fabulous folks and saw old friends.   Then we watched our wonderful friend Phil (see Amtrak, Arcata, the Big Cleanse, the epic roadie ) in the Pirates of Penzance followed by an evening of great cheese, wine, salami, and lentil poker.   Jesse’s Disco Birthday Party was a total highlight, held on the rooftop patio of his Plaza apartment.

The faux-stache and general costumes were fantastic!   Once we’d properly recovered the next day, we took to the water on Nathan and Toby’s new boat (!) — the Synapse.   Pat loves sailing!

Speaking of which, we’ve been logging lots of hours gathering information about what it would take to cross the Pacific by sailboat in the fall.   We know we want to travel internationally, and were hoping to start the journey in a non-traditional way.   We are finding, however, that the smartest and most experienced captains don’t try to cross the Pacific until March or April each year.   So, we’re faced with the decision of  sailing to Mexico and spending a few months on the Sea of Cortez or scrapping the boat idea.   We’re not totally decided yet, but we are itching to get out of the Western Hemisphere for awhile.   We shall see!

 We left Arcata for the Idaho summer camp wedding on a Tuesday morning.   Staying in our old house was quite a trip.   The new residents bought most of our “common area” furniture and we also gave them lots of our stuff.   It was like entering a new dimension with constant déjà vu.   Many of life’s daily activities were still ”˜muscle memory’ for me in that house.   I knew it was time to go when, the night before we left, I automatically swung the bathroom cupboard open instead of the guest drawer to put away my toothbrush.   Goodbye, again, Humboldt!