Keys of Life

Still running off my emotional high, I was driving north of Christchurch when I saw someone looking for a ride on the side of the road. I quickly pulled over, and one of those working men with a long beard and a grizzled appearance hopped into the car. Pulling over was more of a reflex than a conscious decision, and if I had seen the person before pulling over, I probably would have 'judged the book by its cover' and kept driving. Instead, I had an amazing afternoon thanks to this guy. Pete was born on the North Island, and joined the military as a youth due to his itchy feet. His service took him all over Asia and even down to Antarctica. When he was back in New Zealand, he trained as a welder and has been living on the South Island for about 13 years now. The southerners are just starting to accept him too. He spent 9 and a half years in Queenstown living on the Frankton arm and spending his free time taking friends out on his boat to the hidden island on Lake Wakatipu, which is just as cool as it sounds. After his time there, he decided to move up the coast to Westport, where he has really fallen in love with the community that has been home for the past 3 years. Pete has had a lot of problems with his teeth throughout his life, and in the past year or so they were giving him unbearable pain. When I picked him up, he was just on his way home from a weekend trip to Dunedin to get them all pulled. He is going to spend the next year letting his gums heal and saving up the money needed to get dentures.

Conversation flowed easily, and along the way, I wanted to stop in at Hanmer Springs to see what the town was like. Pete had never been there and was up for coming along. When we got there, he insisted on buying me a coffee and snack and we walked around to see the sights. The biggest draw are the hot springs similar to those found in the Rocky Mountains. Pete was impressed with the springs and the town, and was set on returning with some friends for a weekend. The drive and conversation continued about life, the universe, and everything. At one point, he asked if he could share a song he wrote called “The Keys of Life”. He apologized for not having his guitar, but then broke into a beautiful folky song while strumming on his air guitar. Shortly after, we came to the junction where we had to part, and he insisted on pushing forty dollars into my hand and thanking me for a memorable afternoon with great conversation.

I don't think I would have initiated conversation with a person like this in any other circumstance. As it turned out, I feel incredibly privileged for the afternoon we shared. I just cannot begin to express how much the human connections I have experienced in the past few days are putting me right on top of the world.

Yeah Yeah Guaranteed

The enjoyment of my hitchhiking adventure to Dunedin and a desire to stay a day longer than the Magic Bus schedule led me to put my thumb up again for a ride to Christchurch yesterday morning. Within no time, I had two separate lovely drivers pick me up even though they weren't driving very far down the road. It did help me get out of the city though, which brought me to a random town where I was picked up by Jock and Winnie. These two old friends came from Balclutha, and were heading north to Christchurch where Jock does some casual construction work and Winnie was looking to pick up a car to take back south. Jock and Winnie both have grey hair, yellow tinted glasses, and upper lips that have started to disappear into their faces in that old man way. It's funny how it doesn't seem to matter what country you're from, old men from a small town act like old men from a small town. They politely grilled me on who I was and where I was from, and every time I answered, they responded with, “Oh yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah” in tandem. In New Zealand, the affirmation used to prove you're listening in a conversation is a simple, “Mmm.” Some younger adults end every other sentence in an “eh,” but this is the first time I've really heard the “yeah” used in such prominence here. Between thinking of questions to ask me, the men offered a wonderful commentary on the drive on things like the status of delivery trucks or the excessive amount of pylons used in construction sites. They took me on the “scenic route” through Oamaru, which is famous for it's historical precinct that is made entirely of Oamaru stone. On the way out, Winnie noticed a new funeral home made of the stone. He said, “Look at that, brand new. Well, guaranteed way to make a living.” And Jock responded, “Yeah, yeah, guaranteed.”

We stopped for tea at a cafe located on the main floor of a motel. The men had been here before and thought it had good food. They insisted on buying me lunch. Wanting to keep it cheap as possible, I ordered a cheesy roll like Winnie. When the food came out, Winnie looked at it and said, “If I knew it was this small I would have ordered two!” and Jock responded, “Enjoy them while you can, you just can't get these much further north than here.” A cheesy roll is a piece of sandwich bread wrapped around a slice of cheese and grilled.

Both men have cell phones, but neither knew how to use them. Jock asked me if I had a Facepage, and admitted he didn't. Winnie said he likes picking up hitchhikers, but to be honest he doesn't pick up single females anymore. You never know when they're going to record your registration and call the police and accuse you of molesting or whatnot. Since he was travelling with Jock, Winnie figured he'd take a chance with me. This proved to be lucky for me, as Jock doesn't normally pick up hitchhikers. At one point Winnie was talking about a cafe in Oamaru that used to be owned by two men, and you know, they're GAY. I held my breath, thinking, “Well. Here it comes.” Winnie continued, “They sold it now. I saw them once in Timaru and I asked them about it and they said they remembered me, since I used to go there a lot.” Winnie, you just gained some cool points.

I was going to stay overnight in Timaru, but since these guys were so nice and it was starting to rain, I figured I would go to Christchurch with them, pick up my transfer car a day early, and go find a backpackers further on down the highway. We dropped off Winnie, who said goodbye with a hug, and Jock insisted on dropping me off at the rental firm. When we got there, I took my bags and bid him farewell with many thanks, but he insisted on waiting for me to get the car. The receptionist in the rental car place was disinterested and slightly rude, an attitude which didn't help the fact that my car wouldn't be ready until the following morning. I went outside and told Jock, and said I could find my own way to a backpackers. His response was offering to ask his sister if I could spend the night at her place. When Jock works in Christchurch, he stays with his sister and her husband. He was sure she would be keen, but still wanted to call her and make sure. We got to the house, called Ginny, and she responded with, “Well of course she can!” Jock and I went out to his local for a beer before she got home and I was regaled with stories from Jock's interesting life. I even managed to buy him a round, which was an accomplishment considering he wanted to continue to treat me until I was completely spoiled rotten.

When we returned home, Ginny and Pat (her husband) were both home and interested to get to know the Canadian stray that Jock brought home. They gave me wine, fed me dinner, and made me feel completely at ease. Even though Ginny and Pat were raised in small towns, they have lived in various cities around the country since reaching adulthood and don't carry the same rural charm as Jock. They are similar in personality and lifestyle to a lot of my parents friends, and I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know them. They have also done a fair bit of travel which I am always keen to talk about. Ginny even knew about Cortona from the Frances Mayes novel. Bonus points!

After a hot shower, I climbed into a comfy bed in my own room and had the wonderful feeling of being overwhelmed by the kindness of strangers. In the morning, Ginny drove me to the rental outfit before work and insisted on taking my number to text me later on to ensure I arrived safely.

This experience made me think about a quote from the late Jack Layton where he says, “We can look after each other better than we do today.” There is such a stigma against strangers these days, and endless discussion about how the world can be such an alienating place. I want to live in a world where it is possible to connect with anyone and feel safe. Before I left Edmonton 6 months ago, I never would have felt comfortable enough in myself and trusting in others to do something like this. Of course, if I had ever felt uncomfortable at any point during the past 24 hours, I could have easily gone off on my own. Instead, our openness to each other led to one of the most profound experiences I've ever had.

As I was leaving Christchurch this morning in my car, I had the biggest smile I couldn't take off my face. My night made me realize that I am exactly where I want to be in life, and I wouldn't change a thing.

Robert from Invercargill

Robert moved down to Invercargill from Auckland for work last summer, and decided to stick around for the winter to see snow for the first time in his life.  He didn't really like the snow, but there isn't particularly anywhere else that he'd rather be right now, so he's still here.  Work isn't too hard to find on the South Island either, which is always convenient.  Right now, Robert has a job cutting the fat off cows at the meatworks.  The plant in Invercargill closed down for the season, but Robert moved on to the next town along with a bunch of his co-workers.  Robert keeps his flat in Invercargill for the weekends and spends Monday thru Friday working and sleeping in Balclutha.  This worked well for him until he was slapped with a DUI which stripped him of his license that he can't get back until August.  That's alright though, because there's always a driver heading south willing to pick him up from the side of the road whenever he wants to go home for the weekend.

Robert says he was one of the top kids in his class in school.  They offered him a Rugby scholarship, but he reckoned drinking was more important and turned it down.  Now he figures that was probably a bad call, but he still likes drinking.  He went to AA for a few weeks in Auckland a while ago, but it wasn't for him, and he doesn't think he's an alcholic anyways.  And that other smart kid in his class may have gotten an engineering diploma, but he sure doesn't seem much happier.  Somewhere in between that Rugby scholarship and today, Robert managed to have one child with one woman and four with another.  The oldest one doesn't get along with her stepdad, so she moved to Melbourne to live with an aunt.  Robert lived in Melbourne for four years, but living in Australia just isn't as good as living in New Zealand.  He's been talking to his other ex a lot lately, and they might even get back together.  The only problem is that she lives with her Nan up in Hastings, and he can't move in until the old woman dies.  He doesn't really care about Hastings, and isn't really all too sure how much he likes his ex, but it sure would be nice to see his kids every day again.

Robert actually could have had more kids.  It started when he was working at another meatworks - which was the only job he was ever fired from.  Everyone around him was taking a few slices of meat here and there, and so he didn't see the harm in helping himself.  He offered some of the free meat to his landlord, but she wanted more.  Ever since he showed her a picture of his kids,  she reckoned they were some of the most beautiful children around.  So naturally, she wanted his sperm - don't worry, she didn't propsition him for sex, she just wanted to use his semen for an artificial insemination.  After double checking with his buddy that giving someone your sperm is crazy, Robert refused.  And next thing he knew there were cops at his front door accusing him of stealing from the meatworks.  The only person who would have reported him was his landlord.  The crazy lady was always keen on the rack of lamb he brought home, but then he denied her sperm and she screwed him over.

That's all in the past though.  Now Robert is focused on getting $3000 dollars together, because that's the price to buy into an online business.  And why would you work when you don't have to?  So as long as Robert keeps working the way he's working, he should have the money by the time he gets his license back in August. 

In the meantime, Robert is going to enjoy the good things in life.  He's really excited to get home to check Facebook - living in Balclutha means no internet access.  He's also excited to eat ice cream - usually he eats about 2 or 3 litres a week, and over the past 5 days he hasn't had any.  He doesn't have a favourite flavour, he likes everything from chocolate to lime.  To him, all ice cream is delicious.  But it's the toppings that really make the treat.  Robert likes to add milk to his ice cream.  Other good combos are French Vanilla and Fanta. Or Chocolate and Coca-cola.  But the best way to enjoy a dish is probably ice cream with cream on top - because the cream freezes into a thin layer of deliciousness. 

Lucky for Robert, the drive from Balclutha to Invercargill never takes very long.  He lives somewhere near downtown, but he likes being dropped off at the Burger King.  Whoppers are on special for $4, but Robert doesn't like anything but the Double Whopper, which is never discounted. It doesn't matter though, it's all a treat because they don't have a Burger King in Balclutha. And that is why it's always good to come home.

When one door closes...

After 4 nights in Queenstown, it was time to move on.  It would have been cool to go further south and check out Invercargill, Stewart Island, and the Caitlins, but I didn't have enough motivation or money to plan all that out or willingly travel to colder temperatures, so I decided to continue on the Magic route to Dunedin with plans to explore the Otago Peninsula.

Somewhere in the past week, I managed to catch a cold.  Last night my muscles were aching and my throat felt like it had a knife lodged halfway down, so I went to sleep instead of packing up my bag.  This morning, I couldn't make myself get up, and slept in an extra hour, leaving me with 45 minutes to pack, eat breakfast, and walk a block over to the pick up stop.  It should have been no problem.  The bus was set to leave at 7:45.  At 7:40, I was just about ready to leave. At 7:47, I made it out of the hostel. I wasn't too worried because the Magic Bus is always late.  At 7:49, I watched it drive past me.

Fuck.

I was oddly calm, and even entertained by my complete uselessness.  I stood on the main street and contemplated my options.  I was locked out of the hostel, and reception wouldn't get there for another 2 hours.  The Magic Bus wouldn't come back for 2 days, and I was done with Queenstown anyways.  I could call Intercity (similar to Greyhound), but..

In the past few months the romance of hitchiking in New Zealand has grown ever more appealing.  So I started to walk along the road out of town.

My first ride took me from Queenstown out to the traffic circle past all the suburbs, which gave me a better chance of hooking up with a driver who was actually leaving the city.  He was a fellow traveller on a working holiday visa who got sucked into the black-hole appeal of Queenstown and luckily found a job working out at the airport.

From the traffic circle, I was picked up by a businessman from Christchurch who had been doing work in Queenstown, and was heading to Wanaka for a final meeting before returning home.  We chatted mostly chatted about his kids, who are all my age and in various stages of 'leaving the nest'.  He also told me I had to see a rugby game before I left the country, and that conveniently there will be one on Saturday in Dunedin.  He dropped me off in Cromwell.

My third and favourite ride was a 68 year old from Dunedin named Richard who worked for the rural school board union in Otago.  He was visiting the schools along the highway between Cromwell and Dunedin.  He said he hitchhiked across the country when he was 20, and always picks up hitchers to pay his dues.  At one point he pulled over to a rest stop and said, "We're going to stop here because I have to pee. Please don't be anxious."  I laughed.  Something about his fancy new car, grey hair, jazz music, and purple/pink/yellow flowered tie made me trust him completely.

Richard had to stop over in Roxburgh to visit a school, but he told me if I hadn't found a ride in half an hour he would pick me up again.  But he didn't need to, as Carol from Clyde was on her way to Dunedin to see the "Menopause the Musical".  She enjoyed picking up hitchhikers to bring the world to her since she didn't have the money to see the world.  It was fun to hear her life story.  She was born in Clyde, and stayed there her whole life.  Her kids moved to other parts of the country for a while, but they came back as there is apparently something appealing about the town that Carol couldn't name.  She is heavily involved in the community, and I found her passion for it really cool as I really don't have that kind of attachment to Edmonton.

Carol was stopping over to visit her aunt just outside of Dunedin, so she dropped me off in a suburb so I could pick up a ride for the last 20km to city centre.  Within 5 minutes, I saw three different police cars drive by.  Hitchhiking isn't illegal in New Zealand, but I wasn't about to put my thumb out for them.  Right after the third car drove by, a truck pulled over.  Turns out the truck was an unmarked police vehicle who was a part of the police car caravan.  The police man moved over a police vest and police files into the back seat, and I hopped into the cab not entirely sure if I was being arrested or just getting a ride.  Turns out a group of them had gone out to do some police dog training outside the city.  The puppy was in the back of the covered truck.  It took me a few minutes to calm down, considering I was surrounded by police gear like a flashlight/baton, buttons for sirens, and a police radio, but he was just a friendly guy who radio-ed in that he was picking up a hitcher and would be a few minutes late.  He gave me some suggestions for things to do in the city, dropped me off in the Octagon (which is the very centre of town) and wished me luck.  I love this country.

In the end, I didn't have to wait more than 10 minutes for a ride at any point.  And when I got to my hostel, I told the receptionist how cool my morning was and she said that people off the Magic Bus had been checked in minutes earlier.  So I didn't waste any time, and have a memory that will last a lot longer than "that one time I took the Magic Bus again."

Rewards

Celebrating a successful drive from Greymouth to Queenstown by demolishing a Fergburger.   It was just as I remembered it: delicious and the size of my head.

Early Bird Catches the Worm. Or Sunrise.

My transfer car had to be in Queenstown by 8:45 this morning due to the contract of getting the car for free. When I was telling this to the receptionist at the hostel in Wanaka, she warned me that the shorter route through the Crown Range has a tendency to ice over, and so even though it may technically be faster, there is a good chance it will take more time based on conditions around the hairpin turns and waiting for trucks to put chains on.

The issue was that I was already past my allotted kilometres and would have to pay 30 cents per kilometre I travelled. I was okay with this since the few extra dollars I would have to pay allowed me to go see the Rob Roy Glacier, but given the choice between safe roads and money savings, I naturally took the short cut. To make up for the possible delays on this route, I was on the road by 6:45 – an hour before sunrise.  Since it was a Sunday and ridiculously early, I could count the cars that I passed on one hand. The temperature was floating just above 0, and even though there was frost on the cars parked in Wanaka, there was none on the road. My early rise ended up being incredibly rewarding as I was just in time for a spectacular sunrise over the Crown Range that looks out over Queenstown. The mountains were turning pink, the fog in the valley added some wonderful mystery, and there was just me, myself, and I to enjoy it.

Crayfish

After the glacier hike, I dropped off the Germans and went for a walk around town. I ran into Cam, the Magic Bus driver who took me from Nelson to Greymouth. Along the Magic route that day, they stopped at a Whitebait shack to try the special New Zealand cuisine. A fisherman came in while they were there with a whole bucket full of crayfish. You can't sell these lobster-like creatures without a permit in New Zealand, so he decided to just give the Magic Bus two of them to let the travellers try some. Since I was technically a magic passenger, Cam invited me out to the dinner that night where I ate my fill of crayfish. The funny thing about these creatures is that they can sell for up to $80/kg. I had my first crayfish feast for free in Kaikoura after Chantal went fishing, and I here I was managing to score another free feast. And so, even when I am not travelling on it, the Magic Bus wins again.