New Zealand: The Sensory Experience

Neal did a good job of explaining our life over the past few weeks, so I thought I might just keep it simple with a few of my most striking and meditative moments in New Zealand so far:

-- Biting into a juicy, pungent, couldn't-get-riper tangelo
-- Smelling fresh-cut grass and moist new-turned earth
-- The wind between the sheltering trees
-- Annie's shrill but firm voice calling the dogs: "Crocket, Lulu, Flossie!"
-- The spine-creeping feeling upon discovering the cockroach on the toilet seat, its antennae waving at me lazily, immediately after standing up
-- Soft sand between my toes
-- Wind and surf spray
-- The stinging feeling of salt water in my sinuses after wiping out hard (again)
-- The hot New Zealand sun beating down on my shoulders and face as I paint the rafters, and frying my knees as I squat to hammer another row of bricks (don't worry, Mom; I wore sunscreen)
-- The lifting feeling in my stomach and spirit as I look out upon the ever-expanding horizon

My two favorite experiences in New Zealand so far have been on Sunset Beach. The first evening we decided to walk along the beach during extremely low tide to see the Waikato Sand Dunes. The tide had gone so far out that the only sign we were not walking suspended in space was the firm sand beneath our feet. Distance was merely an illusion, and time felt like a dream. The mist coming off of the breaking waves was rising up to form a translucent curtain of contained light and air, giving an otherworldly feel to the distant landscape. The colors were cool and muted, still holding the light of the day while preparing for the oncoming night. I fully understand why they filmed Lord of the Rings inthis country! We walked along the beach in the thick space between sand and water, stepping lightly around jellyfish, tracing shapes with sticks and picking up shells. Suddenly the black-green sand began to mix with a new sand: soft and fine as powdered dry paint and a deep indigo blue. I plopped myself down and ran my hand and arms through the warm moldable softness like a little kid . Neal went off on his own for awhile, and when he came back to gather me I was so sad at the prospect of leaving my happy place that I gathered a handful of the fine, sticky sand into my hat for bottling later. By the time we got to the dunes, the sun was setting and the tide was moving in, so we just stepped quickly into a quiet corner for a brief glimpse and reflection, then headed home for dinner. As we walked out of the dunes, we spotted the marks of horseshoes walking past which had not been there before. Ghost Horse rides again!
The next evening, Dean told us that a bunch of surfers were going out to catch some bigger waves before nightfall, so Neal and I went out to watch. The reef was exposed due to low tide, and we discovered all sorts of unusual sea creatures hiding in the still-moist areas: crabs, anemone, starfish... We climbed on rocks worn down by water to expose the veins of other materials running through; other rocks sharp and jagged and dark as night; and sand with bits of shiny neon shell still gleaming, not yet fully broken smooth ands all by the currents. We passed an older surfer, his face grim and bloodied, walking back to his car. We scrambled on top of the biggest rock we could find, slipping around in our flippy floppies until we could see the whole ocean laid out in front of us. The surfers were few at first, but slowly grew more numerous until there were about 25 dark shapes floating and bobbing between the gigantic waves. An even older man passed below us, barefoot on the rocks with his face and some of his shaggy white hair painted with zinc to look almost like a clown. We watched in awe and admiration as he picked his way delicately between the sharp rocks and battering waves, and paddled slowly but steadily out to join the others. We watched with the wind whipping our faces until we got too cold and hungry to sit any longer, and then we worked our way back home again. The ocean is a magnificent force that is not to be taken lightly, and it very swiftly puts our own size and meager influence upon nature into sharp perspective. Good on ya, surf enthusiasts! We have a whole new level of respect for what you do.
We are now in Raglan, another beach town a bit south of Port Waikato and not much larger. We stay here until Monday, just in time to celebrate Guy Fawkes and light things on fire with the rest of the country! "Forever remember the 5th of November..." And never forget Sunset Beach.

An Update from the Beach House

Home sweet home in New Zealand. This place is truly one of a kind. New Zealand has been beckoning me since I was a kid, and as I've grown the list of reasons to come has steadily grown with me. Maybe it's the awe inspiring diverse landsapes that vary from the endless summer beaches in the north to the huge snow covered peaks in the south, giving you the option to surf and snowboard all in the same day (I know, it boggles my mind too). Or maybe it's the fact that you only hear stories of friendly New Zealanders. Or maybe what attracts me is the fact that they don't feel the need to police the rest of the world and instead focus more on their own domestic issues, like not allowing genetically engineered crops or nuclear energy. It's for these reasons I will always feel at home here.
So it's been exactly two weeks since we landed in Auckland, and it has been a non stop adventure from the time we stepped off the plane. I've got to admit I was stressed about not knowing if we would even be allowed in due to Siri not having a visa, but after 30 minutes her passport was stamped and it was time to let the adventure begin. We left customs and walked through an empty airport to the baggage claim where we found a massive empty room with nothing but our two duffel bags sitting on the floor, so we picked them up and began our journey to downtown Auckland. We walked up to the bus ticket window, saw the price of the tickets and quickly decided to try and hitchhike to town. The ticket lady looked shocked when I told her we were going to hitch it and asked what direction town was, and and all she had to say was, "I hope I don't see you in the paper tomorrow." So we both walked away a little wary, but stoked. We wandered through the parking lot for about 5 minutes and found a ride with a guy from New Caledonia and his mom, and they drove us out of their way right to downtown Auckland. After a failed attempt at giving the guy gas money, we settled with a "thank you" and a "cheers" and went on our way. We walked about a block and found a hostel, walked in and decided this would be our spot for the night. We gave the man $50 for the two of us, dropped our bags and went out to see the town. Auckland is a beautiful city -- giant contemporary styled buildings interspersed with smaller old brick and vine covered buildings, steep rolling streets and wide cobblestone alleys. We made it back to the hostel around dark and settled in for the night.
The next morning we got up early and went out again to see the town. On our journey we went to the boat harbor, saw the tallest building in the southern hemisphere, and sat in the park and watched a wackanut in short shorts fro his ginger hair, shave his nipples, and take a dip in the fountain. After that we went and checked out the University of Auckland and made our way back to the hostel to make plans for the next day. When we got back we realized that the hostel price had tripled and that, along with all the others in that area, it was booked out for the Rugby World Cup that weekend. So we started searching desperately for a way out of the city. I managed to contact a WWOOF host, and I think she could sense the desperation in my voice, because she offered to take us that night and told me she would pick us up around six in a town three hours south. This gave us about four hours to get there, so I immediately started looking for bus tickets and found that a train-bus-taxi combo would get us there right at six, so we grabbed our gear and made our way to the train station. We got there and I saw right away that the train was leaving in ten minutes to Papakura so we bought the ticket and ran to the train and made it as they were shutting the door. Catching rides by the skin of our teeth seems to be a reaccuring theme on this trip. On the train I got a phone call from Annie, and she said that she would pick us up in Pukekohe, which saved us the bus and taxi ride. We got off the train in Papakura and waited in the park for her to pick us up for about an hour, which is when we received a phone call from her husband Sean asking us where we were. I proceded to tell him we were in Papakura, which is when he told me we were supposed to meet in Pukekohe a half hour away. I felt horrible, but seriously, Papakura and Pokekohe-- anybody could have done it. So Annie came by a half hour later with a smile on her face and drove us to her orchard in Miranda which was on the East Coast on the Firth of Thames. We spent the next week at her and her husband's farm with another German WWOOFer named Simon. We woke up in the mornings to fresh squeezed orange juice everyday. After breakfast we would work for five hours around the farm laying mulch around the crops as an herbicide, eating oranges, picking oranges, mowing, eating more oranges, working in the shop, and eating homemade yogurt and more oranges. I ate so many oranges that my mouth stung whenever I thought of oranges. Every night we would eat dinner with Annie, Sean, and Simon and end the night with tea and delicious chocolate, which really taught me to appreciate the simple things in life. We also got to watch the Rugby final at the local pub, and fully enjoyed observing the drunken celebration dancing...Go All Blacks! Near the end of our stay Simon, Siri and I decided to go to the Hot Water Beach, which is a beautiful beach an hour and a half drive up the Coromandel Peninsula. At the Hot Water Beach you can dig your own little hot spring in the sand 2 hours either side of low tide and relax up until the time that the cold ocean water breaks over the little sand walls you've built and lets you know it's time to head home. After our pool was washed away, we packed our stuff and headed back to the farm. About an hour into the return trip I realized that I had left our new camera back at the beach on a rock and began to cry uncontrollably. I didn't actually cry, but it really did suck to realize all of our pictures from the trip so far were either with some French tourist or getting swept away with the tide. After we got to the house I jumped in the driver seat only to realize I was in the passenger seat, switched sides, and drove back to the beach on the left side of the road (most of the time), only to find the huge ocean waves pounding into the rocks I had set the camera on. It was a sad day. I managed to come to terms with the loss of "my precious" on the beautiful drive home.

After about a week we decided to make our way to our next WWOOF host Dean Martin's house on the other side of the island in Port Waikato. We left the orchard and began hitchhiking around 8:30 and quickly began to realize that we were in the middle of nowhere after watching the sixth car go by in an hour. We finally got picked up by a really nice lady who drove us to the next town and gave us a fairwell hug and two granola bars. The next ride was by a younger girl who was stoked about everything and decided to take us out of her way to the next town we needed to go to, just because she wanted to see it too. After her ride we threw our bags on our backs and immediately took them off again to throw them into the back of an old fisherman's truck. This old guy, Jacko, was a riot. He happened to live in Port Waikato and he knew Dean. He told us stories about New Zealand and his own travel experiences the whole way into town. After about twenty minutes in the car, I looked over and noticed that Jacko didn't seem to be wearing any pants, and I began to think of ways to tell him, "bro, please let us out here." After inspecting the situation further, I was relieved to see that he was wearing pants, but they were just really short and hidden by his sweater. I also noticed he was wearing galoshes... short shorts and galoshes. The funny thing was he wasn't the first person we saw in this attire. We pulled up to Dean's house, jumped out of the truck and said our goodbyes.
So here we are in Port Waikato and damn LIFE IS GOOD! Port Waikato is a small surf town made up of about 350 people, a few dogs, a couple stray cats, a goat and a "heap" of avid surfers. I knew when I started this trip that Siri and I would be traveling on a shoestring, but I had no idea that meant staying at a little beach house equipped with surf boards, wet suits and lessons 20 meters from the beach. And not just any beach either, they call it Sunset Beach for a reason. This place is undescribably beautiful. We've spent the last week and a half working a couple hours in the morning, taking a two hour break around 10:00 to surf, then working a few more hours and ending the day with long walks on the beach. In that time I have managed to catch some waves, learn a bunch about surfing, watch some bad ass surfers, and get stung by a jelly fish. This place is paradise and the low tide walks on the beach will be etched into my memory forever.
So far New Zealand has repeatedly boggled my mind and has been everything I could have hoped for and more. With each passing day I am convinced over and over again that this will be a place I call home in the very near future. And from what I've heard we haven't even made it to the good stuff yet.
So until next time,
Cheers, Mate.