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.

Rob Roy Glacier

I woke up this morning at sunrise after a long and restful sleep. I plodded out into the main sitting area in my socks to eat some breakfast, and was instantly rewarded with the view of the mountains across the lake that fit perfectly into the picture window of the hostel. The clouds were low on the mountains, and the sun was just starting to bring colour into the rock. I wanted to take a picture, but having the 2 blocks of trees in between me and the lakefront wasn't going to cut it. As I hadn't bothered to put on shoes, I contemplated going back to my room, but people were sleeping, and I was worried that the light from the sunrise might be moving fast. I first stepped out onto the deck to take the picture, but realized that wasn't going to be good enough either and ended up running down the 2 blocks to the lakefront. When I got back I checked the weather, and it was -1 outside.  No regrets.

I moved slow during the morning, enjoying breakfast while staring out the window and organizing some of my pictures. I wanted to do the Rob Roy Glacier Hike, which was recommended to me by Rachel, but I didn't want to take the 100km round trip car ride by myself. I managed to meet up with Julian and Kristi from Germany at the visitors centre who were willing to pitch in some gas money for a ride out. They were quiet, but friendly. Not the type of travellers you add on Facebook later, but the kind who seek a mutual goal through shared means. And that's alright with me.

The road goes 20km down a paved track winding around Lake Wanaka, and then continues on for 30km on a gravel road through farmers fields surrounded by mountains. Even without the trailhead at the end, this road was worth the drive, and was complimented by the autumn colours in the trees. The track itself starts out on pasture land, and then crosses over a river on a swing bridge into the forest.  It passes along creeks that have the blue tinge created from glacial sources. At the end, there is a waterfall that must be close to 500m tall shooting out over a sheer, vertical cliff face, and just to the right is the Rob Roy galcier.  Quite a spectacular sight.

On the drive back, we were stopped halfway through by a herd of sheep who were being shepherded onto another field. At first we crawled behind the farmer in his truck, but after a few minutes he waved his arm and told us to go right on through. The sheep were covering the entire width of the road, and they went on for another 500 metres. There must have been 2000 of them. But as you slowly accelerate your way through, they notice the big moving metal contraption and literally jump out of the way. We couldn't stop giggling.  Great way to end the hike.

South on Highway 6

New Zealand has this absolutely fantastic website called Transfer Car, which is a listing of all the rental cars that need relocating throughout the country. Since the vehicles need to be moved, the companies let you drive them for free. Some even throw in a free tank of gas. I have been aware of the site for most of my time in the country, but since the cars have a maximum amount of days and kilometres you can travel, I was unable to find a relocation that was quite right for what I wanted to do.

I wasn't keen on repeating this particular stretch of the Magic Tour (although it was lovely the first time). As if in answer to my problem, I found a transfer car going from Greymouth to Queenstown. I requested it online, within an hour the company confirmed it, and this morning I picked up my shiny, well-loved Nissan.

My little beauty parked in front of Mt Cook (pre-cloud cover)

Much like the rest of New Zealand, the stretch from Greymouth to Wanaka is gorgeous. However this one has the perks of going along the Southern Alps, which means you spend equal time driving through forest, along the coast, and over and around mountains. There are even some stretches of flat farmland that give you a much needed break from the ridiculously windy roads. Last time, my poor little Magic Bus self could do little else but lay back and fall asleep to keep the nausea away. Today in the drivers seat, I felt like I had expensive front row seats. Thanks to travelling in the off season on the sparsely populated West Coast, I could slow down to take a better look without having another car in sight.

The morning began without a cloud in the sky, and as I drove south from Greymouth, the snowy Southern Alps rose up to greet me. My first stop was at Franz Josef Glacier. I skipped out on going on a glacier hike the first time around, and recently the amount of recession from the glacier has made hiking unsafe and so the walking tours have been cancelled. They do have a heli-hike option where they fly you up onto the top of the glacier, but a lack of funds and a lack of feeling really inspired to do the hike led me to skip the expensive touristy bits. Instead I just drove to the carpark where you can hike up to the glacier front. You can't go on the ice without a guide as tourists have died from going solo. I have a feeling they were of the stupid variety, but still. I walked in for about a half hour and got some great shots of the glacier reflected in a lake, but I wanted to see Fox Glacier too so I didn't bother going all the way up.

From Franz, I continued on to Lake Matheson, which is a lake carved out by the Fox Glacier way back when. The lake is most well known for its ability to create a perfect reflection of Mt Cook, which is the highest peak in New Zealand. I had some lunch by the trail head, and then started the hike. The clouds started to move in at this point and it looked like they were going to cover the mountain. I walked quickly around the lake, hoping to beat the clouds. When I got to the end, I climbed up out of the trees to the viewing platform and... the mountain was completely covered in clouds. I was thoroughly annoyed with myself for wasting time eating lunch when I could have been at the platform before the clouds moved in. After a minute of sulking and looking out at the (still stunning) view, I snapped out of it. I did see Mount Cook without clouds. I ate my lunch outside, staring up at it's snowy peaks. In fact, I was so enthralled with it that the fork almost missed my mouth a few times. It's funny how you can lock on to an idea like that. It's not as if I came all the way to the other side of the world to take that picture. I'm am sorry you can't see my mediocre picture, but you can always google it.

After the rest of the lovely walk, I drove to the Fox Glacier car park. Fox is the 'younger sibling' of Franz, by which I mean Franz is more frequented by tourists. So naturally, I was instantly more impressed with Fox. I'm sure Franz Josef is fantastic when you're on the glacier itself, but driving up the valley to Fox was amazing. It's amazing to think of how the path was carved by ice, especially when thinking of the prairies I live on in Canada and how those were flattened by a glacier larger than I can comprehend. From the Fox car park, there was a half hour walk further up the valley that passed waterfalls and rivers and ended in the spectacular view of the ice. Before I saw the glaciers, I kept telling myself, “whatever, we have glaciers in Canada”. But being there looking up at the ice was still amazing.

After Fox was a relatively boring hour-long drive to the town of Haast. At this point I was getting tired of driving, but I still wanted to spend the night in Wanaka. I had my tinny iPod speaker to keep me company, so I put on some bouncy tunes and kept driving. Soon I came to the Haast Pass which winds through Mt Aspiring National Park. Here you drive along the valley floor surrounded by low, tree covered mountains and high rocky peaks covered in snow. I kind of wish I had recorded myself driving, because when I made it around some corners and yet another amazing alpine peak presented itself, I was whooping and shouting and gasping and generally in awe of mother nature around me. One part of the road in particular was beside a lake that went up to the base of a beautiful mountain with the almost full moon looming just behind. I stopped on the side of the road to take a picture and just kept waiting for someone else to come along so I could point and say, “DO YOU SEE. HOW BEAUTIFUL. THIS IS?” But no one did. A country this beautiful and only 4 million people call it home. To make it even more unbelievable, there are only 1 million on the South Island. And most live in cities.

 This leg of the journey took another hour, but when I left the mountains I was sad to see them go. The feeling didn't last long though, as the twin lakes of Wanaka and Hawei came up in no time. As I drove along the rocky edges of the lakes, the sun was setting and they were lit in the most amazing glow. Compared to road trips on the prairies, .. well actually no, you can't compare it to road trips on the prairies. This drive was endlessly rewarding.

After driving to the far ends of the lakes, I pulled into the town of Wanaka just after nightfall, and secured a bed at one of my favourite hostels. I ended up driving 500km today, and on New Zealand roads, that is definitely a lot. I'm exhausted, but so happy with the way things turned out. The only way the day could have been better was if I had someone to share it with. But I guess that's what you're for, Blog.

The Wild West Coast, Take Two

I am a contradictory traveller.  I like the idea of travelling on a whim, of finding some magical place randomly and having the flexibility to stay as long as I want.  On the other hand, when I don't have a set plan in place, I stress out.  Mini anxiety attacks start rolling in and I complain to anyone who will listen.  These kind ears tell me to relax, which I don't, and I inevitably book everything in one go.

Having said that, I want to travel the South Island on a whim.  I already have my Magic Bus pass that will take me to most places I want to go for free.  The only problem is that I don't really want to stick to the Magic itinerary since I've already travelled on it before.  However, with a lack of a better plan, I have started my trip back on the bus.  Today we went from Nelson to Greymouth.  Last time I did this journey, I was feeling a bit burnt out, there was an intense fog settled over the entire region, and I could not keep my eyes open while the bus was moving.

Today, I started out with fresh touristy energy, the sky was bright blue, and I easily stayed awake for the entire journey.  The road from Westport to Greymouth, which locals call the Ocean Road, has been dubbed by Lonely Planet to be one of the top ten road trips in the world.  As I said, my last trip along this road was masked in fog and rain.  This time I could definitely agree with Lonely Planet.  The road winds along the coast perched on higher cliffs that offer amazing vistas of the small rocky outshoots and peninsulas that break up the coastline.  The road is the only clear path though, as the rocks are covered in the beautiful green New Zealand bush.  To make it even better, this scenic route ends at the Punakaiki (or Pancake) Rocks, which are a geological marvel.  As the name suggests, they are rocks stacked on top of eachother by nature.  I can't really do this area justice with my words, or even my pictures.  If I haven't convinced you by this point, just come to New Zealand already.

Happy That I'm Sad to be Leaving

The day is finally here.  I'm leaving the Warwick House in search of adventure further south.  I came here out of a mild panic of a soon-to-be empty bank account, thought I'd stay 6 weeks, and have ended up staying over two months.  I feel anxious about going travelling again, which means this house has felt like home.  Even more, I was made to feel like family.  That's not something you come across every day. 

And so I say a sad goodbye to sunny Nelson and the Ferrier's and start putting on warmer layers for the south.  I have two weeks left, and I'm going to try to fill them as full as my mastercard can get.

Onwards!

Riwaka Resurgence

Rachel and a few of her co-workers from the Playhouse invited me along on a roadtrip to Golden Bay.  I gladly accepted, and we headed out towards Takaka in the afternoon. The first stop was to see the Crystal Pools.  Two of the girls from the playhouse were told by a resident stoner that these pools were seriously amazing, but seriously hard to find.  He gave them some written instructions to follow, and we were confident in our navigational skills needed to find the pools.

The first bit was fairly straight forward.  We spotted the small sign that signalled the turn off the main highway. After that, "5.9 km Rd on left, Riwaka Valley Left Branch.  Drive straight ahead - DO NOT CROSS BRIDGE!" Sure enough, we saw the sign for Riwaka Valley Left Branch and turned onto it.  Here we hit our first obstacle.  Within ten metres of turning onto the road, we had to cross a bridge.  Another review of the note made it seem as though the directions must be referring to a bridge further along since we still had 8km to go. After a few hundred metres, the road changed to gravel.  We passed a few farm houses, then some grazing cattle, and then it was just us and the road.

As we chugged along in Nico's station wagon, the path started to get a bit bumpy.  There were fences on either side of the road with signs that showed we were surrounded by the private property of Riwaka Forestry Industries.  That didn't phase us, as there are heaps of hikes and points of interest in New Zealand that require you to cut across farmland.  We hit a few cattle gates that needed to be manually opened, but that was normal too. Further along, the road was so bumpy that the ground was loudly scraping the undercarriage of the station wagon.  It had also rained recently, and the puddles were fairly deep in some places.  At first, the off-road adventure was funny.  But the road kept getting worse, and the noises coming from under the car were awful.  We were also very aware that we were well out of cell service - if the car stopped running, we'd have to walk a long way back to the main road to get help.  Nico kept driving as the rest of us began hugging ourselves with pained expressions on our faces.  After the car had a particularly prolonged painful connection with the ground, we started to get out to lighten the carriage as Nico drove over the dips and hop back in on the other side.

We finally came to the first place we were able to turn the car around.  Rachel suggested we walk the rest of the way.  Nico looked at his odometer and said he didn't want to walk the last 4km, and was willing to keep driving.  So we kept going for about 400 more metres when the road abruptly ended.  We got out of the car to look around, and Rachel suddenly pointed out where the tire tracks continued- on the other side of the river.  Welp. A+ for effort. We tried. Time to turn back.

Nico had to drive in reverse down the narrow, horribly uneven road with mud and pools of water threatening to trap the car everywhere.  Once we got out of the forest, things started to become horribly funny.  We started to point out to eachother, with the clarity of hindsight, all the glaring signs we had missed or ignored.  These were things like how the road was obviously only made for tractors, or the multiple signs along the road with phrases like "Private property" or 'Multiple Hazard Areas".  We also had squeezed past a fallen tree that was laying across the road.  Best of all: we had crossed 3 bridges on our way to the middle of nowhere.

Rachel quietly pushed the paper with directions to the back seat to confirm that we had misread them: we hadn't realized that the directions only wanted us to use Riwaka Road Left as a marker.  We were supposed to continue past, driving, as the note says, straight ahead.

When we finally got back to the main road, we drove down the nicely paved path to the well-signed carpark full of other tourists.  The car-wrecking adventure was worth it. The water really was crystal clear, and ran over quartz rock that was surrounded by mossy green boulders and forest.  New Zealand, you've outdone yourself yet again.

Election Day

For the first time in decades, the provincial government of Alberta was not guaranteed before the citizens actually voted in the 2012 election.  Oh, Alberta.  The Texas of Canada. The land of the cowboy redneck.  The province that gushes money as readily as oil.  It stands for so many things I am against, but it is still home.

The only thing that could possibly take over the permanent PC conservative government here would be a MORE conservative government.  This ridiculous prospect has manifested itself as 'The Wild Rose Party'.  Early media reports showed that the Wild Rose was a joke - a party made up of fundamentalist Christians, climate change deniers, and supporters of removing rights from minorities.  So as the election drew nearer, it was very surprising (although it shouldn't have been) that the WRP was doing well in the polls.  In an election like this one, I wanted to make sure my vote was counted as a non-supporter of these principles.  So, a month before election day, I applied for a special ballot, had one sent here, proudly voted non Wild Rose, and sent it back to Edmonton. And then had to wait for the rest of the province to catch up. 

Today was election day, and Facebook was abuzz over the possibile outcomes. Normally when an election happens, I plant myself in front of the TV when the polls close and sit there for the rest of the night, watching the results come in and talking to my friends about our triumphs and failures in this lovely democracy. I obviously couldn't do that here, but at 2 PM I was refreshing election results on my computer and texting back and forth with people from Alberta. I probably would have done this all evening, but at 3, Rachel came into town and the pull of sunshine was too strong.  We headed to the beach while my friends continued to update me via text.  Rachel was playing a mix of happy music out of her portable speakers, and as we pulled into the parking lot, news came through on my phone: Wild Rose did not get a majority, they did not even get any seats north of Red Deer.   Even better, Edmonton was dotted with various parties other than the PC standby.  I was feeling amazing. The Flaming Lips “The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song" came on the mix, and we ran/danced up over the boardwalk to the beach, singing along and running to meet the ocean. I felt like I was in a movie.  The sun was shining, the temperature was perfect, I was splashing around in a tank and shorts in the middle of April, dancing like a mad woman on the beach, and politics at home weren't as depressing as usual. Life is good.

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.

Victory Pose

My Sexy Ride

Jenny and Nick, as stereotypically generous Kiwis, let woofers borrow their van.  The van is quite large, and at first I was a bit intimidated by the double whammy of driving such a large vehicle on the other side of the road.  My fears were unfounded though, as my comfort in driving around Nelson makes it seem as though the van and I have been together for years.  I zoom around town in my sexy diesel ride and accelerate and deaccelarate with slothlike efficiency.  Heavy groceries? You just have to carry them out to the parking lot.  Want to go to the beach that is a 45 minute walk away? Drive there in 5 minutes! Your friend found a job a 30km out of town? Go ahead and see her!

But my time with the green bullet is coming to an end, which means all of you reading this in Canada should be very, very afraid for my return to driving on the right-handed side of the road.  Which side of the steering wheel is for wipers and which side is for signal light again?

Fruit Trees

If I ever own a house with a large yard in a temperate climate, I am going to fill it with fruit trees.  I really don't know how I'm going to cope this summer in Edmonton when the only fruit that grows in my backyard is apples.  And they only ripen in late August. 

Here in Nelson, I have been able to enjoy nashi pears, tangellos, feijoas, apples, lemons, avocados, and walnuts all straight from the tree. These in turn have been turned into gelatos, dessert crumbles, freshly squeezed juice, and guacamole.  On ground level, there is an abundance of spices like bayleaf, parsley, and rosemary growing everywhere.  It's also a nice treat that even though we're well into autumn, there is no frost and the garden in the back is still producing tomatoes, zucchini, and lettuce.

Buying these things in a supermarket is just not as fulfilling.  Edmonton, why must you insist on being so far north?! 

Shoeless

Sometimes I think I could have been born a Kiwi. I have fallen in love with their easygoing natures, love of the outdoors and being active, and do it yourself mentality. Of course, that doesn't even begin to cover my love affair with the country itself, with its rolling green hills, tropical rainforests, staggering mountain peaks, and boundless coastline. It also helps that the latitude in this country creates a climate that is a lot more forgiving than Edmonton. When it comes down to it though, I haven't felt a pull so strong that I would want to spend the rest of my life a 14+ hour plane ride from all my friends and family back home. So Canada still has my heart.

Despite all this, there is one thing I know I'm really going to hate going back to when I come back home: wearing shoes.

I have never particularly liked shoes or even socks, although winter forces me to keep my toes warm in them. In the summers, my feet are generally calloused and the skin is perfectly thick, ready to walk over anything without too much trouble. When I worked at Fort Edmonton, my bare feet were hidden underneath my floor-sweeping 1885 era dress. My co-workers shook their heads. When I was studying in HUB mall and got a bit peckish, I would head to the nearest food shop without bothering to put my shoes back on. The other students in the building did double takes all over the place. But here in New Zealand, sans shoes is the natural state of being—to the point where half the people in the grocery store are walking around the supermarket in their bare feet. This hasn't been practical for me since I generally have to walk at least 10 minutes to get to the nearest store, but today I was driving the van home and stopped at the supermarket.  I ditched my shoes under the gas pedals, and proudly walked into the store.  My conversion into a Kiwi is almost complete. 

Technology is Weird

Before I came to New Zealand, I bought myself the best present I could ask for: an unlocked smart phone.  I have never travelled with a phone before, and as much as I like being a free agent while I travel, the phone was necessary for connecting with potential employers.  Turns out it has also been the perfect way to connect with home.  I can text, call, skype, email, facebook, etc. all for free (or really really cheap).  

But I didn't really notice how dependent I had become on my phone until my friend Cayley went to Madagascar for a month over Christmas.  When she was in Edmonton, we texted every day.  Without her phone, I was suddenly lost as to who to share my pointless thoughts with.  Luckily, she came back and things went back to normal.

I am feeling a bit lost again this week.  My parents have gone to Cuba for spring break, and despite the fact that they are physically closer to me, I am completely cut off from talking to them.  I don't have anything to say, but I am aware that they are not just a phone call away.  Imagine what it would be like to travel before the internet. *shudder*

March Fest

One of the big yearly festivals in Nelson is March Fest, where all the main microbreweries create a special brew to bring Nelsonians together for beer and live music. When I bought my ticket, Jenny suggested that I see if they were hiring for the day. I gave my name to the pub in charge of putting the festival on, and to my delight, I got a job as bartender. (And sold my ticket to Marie Louise).

Despite Nelson being the sunshine capital of New Zealand, the Saturday of Marchfest was rain, rain, and more rain. I arrived at the park at 11, already dripping wet from riding my bike there. I chose the outdoor booth with the thought that if we switched up shifts, I'd get to go inside when it got cold that night. It turned out to be my bar for the whole day, and bonus! It kept in heat naturally. My shift partner was a fun, cheerful English guy named Dan who helped everything go smoothly.

The rain kept people away in the early afternoon, and we danced to the music playing on the stage 20 metres away, sampled all the beers, and chatted about travelling. By 3, the crowds had showed up in full force and we had a lineup 50 people long for the next five hours. I have never bar tended before, and it was interesting to see people of all ages and types absolutely wasted. One woman had grown up in the Okanagan in BC, and when she found out I was Canadian, stepped back in shock for a few seconds, and then insisted on giving me one of those awkward high fives where she grabbed my hand and wouldn't let go. It was funny at first, but the next time she came back to the bar, found out I was Canadian, stepped back in shock for a few seconds, and then insisted on giving me one of those awkward high fives where she grabbed my hand and wouldn't let go. After her fourth return to the bar, she remembered who I was but wanted to talk about maple syrup and hockey despite the long line of people behind her.

We spent the last hour of our shift checking out the festival grounds, catching the last few songs of Alabama 3, and drinking cider. I ended up working over 10 hours at the festival, which resulted in my first glorious paycheck in four months. Money aside, the whole experience was definitely well worth the raisin fingers and wet clothing that made me feel like I'd been in a bath all day.

Beers of Marchfest

St. Patrick's Day

I don't normally go out and celebrate St. Patrick's Day.  The first time I had green beer was last year when my classmates spontaneously got together after class.  This year, I thought it would be cool to see what New Zealand did for the Irish Holiday, but by nine o'clock I was still in the house, mindlessly scrolling through Facebook.  In a combined effort, Pinja and I decided we really should do something, so we kicked our butts into gear, got some nice clothes on, did our hair, and walked into town.  Our first stop of the night was the Sprig & Fern, which is a local brewery that has no less than 13 handcrafted beers and ciders on at a time.  It's one of our favourite pubs in town, and of course, it was packed.  After a half an hour of sitting by ourselves, I finally got the (perhaps liquid) courage needed to introduce us to a group of Kiwis sitting beside us.  Pinja and I have both been annoyed with our lack of ability to meet locals.  The Warwick House is a nice place to live, but it can be really isolated at times, so we had made it a challenge to meet someone.   And I'm glad I went out of my comfort zone to do so.  After a few minutes of normal awkward introductions, we were moved into the group.  Turns out we were sitting beside a group of lawyers who liked buying rounds of beer.  Normally I feel uncomfortable with people buying me drinks, but hey, I'm a penniless backpacker and aren't all lawyers supposed to be millionares?

Anyways, we spent the evening socializing in the Sprig until it closed, at which time we moved on to 'Elsewhere' Club to dance the alcohol off.  Pinja and I didn't get home til 3:30.  I thought it was closer to 2.  Having no concept of what the time is is always an indicator of a great night.

Oh, and all the lawyers were dressed up for the occasion, and didn't seem to mind me going home with their costumes, which was easily the biggest success of the night.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Trolley Derby

Today, Collingwood Street was closed down for the annual Trolley Derby.  Trolleys are the Kiwi equivalent of a Soapbox car, which played a large part in my childhood in the form of the classic film "Little Rascals".  It was fun to spend the afternoon watching kids of all ages race down the hill in their homemade box on wheels, and reminisce back on "I've got two pickles, I've got two pickles! I've got two pickles, hey hey hey hey!"  There was hay lining the sides of the road for the inevitable crashes, but my favourite part was a trolley lost momentum 10 metres from the finish line and the kid just sat there holding the wheel until an organizer came and pushed him to the end.  The cheering for him was the loudest. It may not have been the most exciting afternoon I've ever had in New Zealand, but it was nice to feel like a local.

DIY

I have been able to cook from a young age. Both of my parents know how to whip a meal together, and I took the Foods option in school from grade 7-12 (Hello? Free food? Why wouldn't you take it?).  Still, I usually don't do a lot of intense cooking, and I blame this on pure laziness.  Apart from from the occasional cupcake or chocolate chip cookie craving, I don't bake very often.  Dinners I make for myself usually consist of pasta and whatever sauce is around. It helps that when I am home, I have 3 other people in the house who make well-rounded, delicious dinners and baking so my cravings are satisfied.  Here in New Zealand it is just me, myself, and I. One of the best parts of living here is access to a full kitchen. Baking and cooking always require small amounts of ingredients that come in large bottles, or kitchen instruments that you never find in a hostel kitchen. Warwick House has inspired the chef within. We offer a plate of cookies to guests when they check in, so some days I have spent my working hours baking for accomodation. Shortbread, chocolate almond drops, gluten-free cookies, you name it, I'll bake it.

Jenny heard about the Easy-Yo Yogurt maker from a friend, where you can make yogurt yourself using water and some powder that you buy in a grocery store. It halves the cost of buying a ready made container in the store. My curiousity had me open the box first and try the first batch.  Since then, I have become resident yogurt maker.

The wonderful latitude here in New Zealand means there are a lot of fruit trees around. There is a lemon tree in the front yard, and since Jenny had some white wine that was going bad, I made lemon gelato. There is a Nashi Pear tree out at the beach house, which produced bags and bags of the fruit. We brought them home one day and Jenny wondered aloud what we should do with them all.  Channelling my mom's delicious dessert spirit, I offered to make a crisp. Jenny said yes, and after the first dish was devoured, I made four more for the hungry house.

Occasionally, the Warwick House hosts a high tea in their ballroom. We had one last week and I was on scone duty. I had made the occasional scone out of Bisquick in my youth, but I can't remember ever making them from scratch. My trial bake produced tasty scones, but they were a bit too small. The scones on the day of the High Tea were, according to Jenny, perfectly raised, perfectly fluffy, and perfectly browned.  I will add this skill to my CV.

I also have a job to help out a family who is friends with Nick and Jenny.  I go over for a few hours a week to help with cleaning and watching the kids.  The mom is Jane, and she leaves recipes out for me tackle, so I've been cooking even more.  Meatloaf, blueberry muffins, dahl, cauliflower bake.. I can do it all.
I am really hoping to keep this energy going for when I come home again.  It's nice to run out to the garden and grab fresh spices like parsley, bayleaf, and rosemary.  I'm still a bit useless at gardening, but I want to try to motivate myself to learn more about it for this summer in Edmonton.  I'm also half tempted to follow in Jane's footsteps and install a chicken coop in my backyard.  Fresh eggs anyone?

Alive in Nelson

Not having a lot of money usually leads me to avoid places that tempt my wallet.  This makes spending my afternoons at the B & B attractive, or going for walks in the woods, or generally avoiding downtown shops.  Usually when I do go to town it's to go out to the grocery store and back again. But today is Saturday, which means the Market is on, and I just can't resist those cheap, perfectly ripe, organic fruits and veggies, not to mention drooling over beautiful handmade clothing I cannot afford (and don't have room for).

Anyways, after my shift, I walked over to the market. Compared to the quiet street the house is on, downtown Nelson was full of people, and the energy was flowing. The sun was shining bright, there were musicians playing in the street, and people were eating and drinking out on patios everywhere.  The market square was packed, and at times it was difficult to maneuver around everyone.  I felt recharged by going into town, and as I thought about what made the afternoon so special, I realized that it was a feeling of community that I often find lacking in Edmonton.  Markets always inspire me to try harder to DIY, whether that be a recipe, jewelry, or clothing.  This one was no exception.  The musicians made me want to pick up and learn an instrument.  And the amount of people strolling around made me reluctant to go back to the house and drop off my purchases.  Maybe you can find this intimacy in some of the tighter knit communities of Edmonton, but I never do.  In Nelson the sense of community is everywhere, and I wish I could take this feeling home and help it blossom. 

Decisions Decisions

When I originally purchased my flight to New Zealand, there was a seat sale that allowed for a 6 month trip to the country. I decided to jump on it, because if I wanted to come home in 6 months, I'd get a cheaper ticket, and if I decided to stay, well, I would be ready to upgrade my ticket. When I first got here, I immediately wanted to stay as long as possible. But starting in late January, I started thinking about coming home for a triple summer. (Did you catch that? Triple summer) Anyways, after weighing pros and cons, listening to my gut, ignoring my gut, being logical and then emotional, I have decided to come home after 6 months to save up money for.. you guessed it, more travel.

Because I want to come home in three months, I only want a job for two months. Because I want a job for two months, no one will hire me. I have poured over the job boards and not been successful, and as the weeks have gone by, I am now going to be gone from Nelson in less than two months. So I have given up.   I have found a few odd jobs here and there that give me money for groceries and the occasional activity, but a real deal pay cheque is not in the works. I'm okay with this, because I know I can go back to my old job when I return to Edmonton and will eventually start filling my bank account instead of draining it.  Also, I first decided to go home and then couldn't get a job, so I don't feel too defeated.  In a perfect world I would stay here for a year, but as it is, the call of other countries is too strong and I guess I can “deal with” a beautiful summer in Edmonton, hanging with friends, heading to the mountains, going to festivals, and enjoying the prairie thunderstorms that are sorely missing here.

Bugs

I have never really been afraid of insects and other creepy crawlies, although things with more legs than I can count straight away have always freaked me out a bit. I am used to the bugs in Edmonton who have to be strong enough to somehow survive the 8 months of frigid winter. This lovely period of cold that I usually hate seems nice now that I am here in New Zealand, where it may be green all year round, but that means the bugs have the whole year to grow and make me squirm that much more.

My least favourite are the cicadas. These little buggers are absolutely everywhere outside, and although it may be hard to see them blending in with the trees, their endless vibrating clicks drive me up the wall. Sometimes when I'm reading or just sitting outside, I will suddenly realize I am grinding my teeth to the beat of their sound. I actually didn't know what they looked like for weeks until I got to the Warwick House, and they started to fly around. They don't really like humans, so only the rare one has landed on me, but the noise noise noise! It's hard to imagine that I will get used to them eventually.

This one is actually dead, I couldn't have gotten so close otherwise

One bug that I was a bit excited to see in New Zealand was the praying mantis. These bugs are crazy. After the female mates, she bites the head off the male. I have seen quite a few of the mantis' here,  but there are a lot more Daddy-Long Legs who like to build webs in the corners of the rooms I clean.  Usually I just lift my vacuum up and suck them down. One day I found a fully grown praying mantis sitting on top of the shower. As always, I raised my vacuum hose and ran it over the bug. I may like you when you're outside, guy, but you really can't be in my territory. When I pulled the vacuum away, the praying mantis was still there. I tried again. And again. It just sat there, staring at me. I realize the bug probably has little to no brain, but I swear it was shaking its head and saying “Nice try sweetums, now please aim that vacuum elsewhere, I'm comfortable.”

Baby Mantis!

I was sitting downstairs in the living room one evening when I saw something black move out of the corner of my eye. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me until I saw a giant 8 legged creature finish his trek across the room. It went under the curtain, so I tried to put it out of my mind until the spider started to move again. I weighed my options. If I left it where it was, it might crawl up on me which was something I was not keen to risk. If I killed it, there would be spider guts all over the carpet which I really didn't want to clean up. The only solution in my mind was to trap it in an empty pasta jar. Success! With a few millimetres of thick(ish) glass between us, I was not afraid to examine my new friend who I had named Humphrey. After a necessary Facebook post about the spider, my brother came up with a link to identify New Zealand Spiders. I think it's a Nursery Web Spider. When Jenny came home the next morning, and she said it was a harmless wood spider who liked eating mosquitos. That was enough of a reason for me to keep it alive. I opened the top of the jar and tossed it far into the woods that surround the house. It was nice knowing you Humphrey, but please don't come back. 

Singing Our Multicultural Hearts Out

As annoying as the Disney corporation can be, I still grew up watching all the films and memorizing all the songs like all the other kids in my class.  I have quite a few memories of breaking into rousing renditions of Disney songs over the years while hanging out with friends – everyone always joins in, even if just for the chorus. The other day I was walking home with my co-workers Marie-Louise and Pinja when Pinja started humming a song from Beauty and the Beast. I recognized it immediately and started singing along.  She joined me, but after a second I realized she was singing in Finnish and was harmonizing with me in a different language. It didn't take Marie-Louise long to join in, showing off her Swiss mult-lingual skills by singing songs in both German and Italian. Oh Disney, who knew you'd provide such a cultural experience.

Warwick House

As luxurious as the swimming pool at Paradiso was, the busy nature of the backpackers really was not something that attracted me longterm. It wasn't going well on the job front, so in a rather depressed, desperate state, I scrolled through the Backpacker Board website to see if anyone was hiring a backpacker to work for accomodation. There was an unnamed “Historic B & B” looking for a house keeper, so I gave the number a ring and spoke to Jenny. She didn't need anyone for right now, but since I was already in Nelson, she told me to come in for an interview the next day.  She gave me an address and the name - Warwick House, and told me to look it up online before I came.

The house is one of the oldest in Nelson – it was built in 1854, and received numerous renovations and add-ons throughout its time.  In 1941 it was turned into apartments, and stayed that way until 2003 when the owners (Jenny and Nick) purchased and renovated it into a bed and breakfast. I don't think I can describe this place with any justice, so you should check out the website.  When I got there I immediately called it a mansion, but in it's glory days before some wings were torn or burnt down it was known as 'the castle'.  Living in a castle? Even better.  Jenny said she liked me, but wouldn't need any extra help until the second week of March. I thought I could find something to do until then, and left the interview feeling good.  Later that afternoon she texted me saying one of her workers decided to leave early, could I start a week earlier? Yes! To make things even more sweet, a few days later she texted back and said they had a free room and did I want to move in tomorrow? Win!

After running around trying to impress people enough to hire me, the simple, no BS interview/acceptance of this job was really refreshing. So here I am! For right now, I get my own room, free breakfast, use of a bike, and the chance to tell people I live in a castle. I might even be able to borrow a vehicle.  My job will mainly be servicing the rooms, although apparently I will also be painting, gardening, and whatever other odd jobs may pop up. Feeling good about this.

Nelson

When I originally came to New Zealand, I hoped that a introductory tour of the country would inspire me to fall in love with some town or place, where I would return and happily find a job and settle down for a while. Naturally, I fell in love with the whole country and when the time came for Chantal to go home, I still didn't know what to do. I ended up getting the travel writing job in Napier, so my path was set. Near the end of my time there, I knew I had to pick somewhere new to settle down, so I stared at a map of the country and eventually settled on Nelson. The first time I had been through Nelson, it was a Sunday so everything was closed and I was a bit underwhelmed. Still, my cousin Patrice had chosen to settle here when she came to New Zealand so I felt that there had to be some kind of potential. And I'm glad I did. Nelson sits fairly close to the top of the South Island, and it is a short water taxi ride away from the world renown Abel Tasman National Park. It is the second largest congregation of hippies in New Zealand after the Coromandel, and has a large art scene. However, my favourite two qualities of this town are that it is both the craft beer capital of New Zealand and the sunshine capital. In rainy rainy New Zealand, sunshine is a hot commodity.

So my searches on job boards were narrowed down to Nelson, and now that I am here I have no regrets. The town has a population of about 40 000 which gives it an intimate feel (although there are about 80 000 in the whole Tasman region). It's nestled in a valley that is surrounded by large hills on one side and ocean on the other. The local beach is made of golden sand, and the downtown core is architecturally attractive and pedestrian friendly. There is a Saturday market to rival that of large cities and there is always a venue playing some sort of live music playing somewhere in the city.

I haven't found a job here yet, but I'm reluctant to go chase employment somewhere else when there is so much going on here, and I still haven't made it out to Abel Tasman.  Basically what I'm trying to say here is yay Nelson!

Paradiso

I came to Nelson with the exciting prospect of two job possibilities.  The first was working in the farming industry as a fruit maturity tester.  I don't really know what that means either.  When I got to Nelson, I found out I'd need to buy a car (a fact that wasn't advertised on the job description) and they were thinking about giving me a different job within the company.  I wasn't feeling good about going through with the job, so I turned it down.  The other job possibility was as an intern at a publishing company.  I applied for fun in early January, never expecting that I could get the job.  In the beginning of February, I got a call back.  I went for an interview, but didn't end up getting the job. My 'working holiday visa' stamps me with an unfortunate transient status that may have worked negatively in my favour, so I've decided to take it as a compliment to my resume that I was interviewed at all in the first place.

So what have I been doing?  Well, living in paradise.  Nelson is home to Paradiso Backpackers, an above average hostel that offers a fairly cheap bed, free breakfast, and free soup at 6PM every night.  It also features a beautiful big blue pool that is perfect for Nelson, which is the sunshine capital of the country.  In these last days of summer, it is still very warm.

After 3 months of being unemployed in New Zealand, I really do need to start getting the 'working' part of my working holiday visa under order.  It's a bit rough, but in the mean time, I have spent my days in Nelson travelling through the adventures found in novels, sun tanning, and basically taking a vacation from my vacation.  At night there are always travellers gathered in the common area ready to meet new people and have a few drinks which is nice.  Even better, my room is far enough away from the common room that I generally have a good nights sleep.

I have to say, life in Paradise isn't too shabby.

Eulogy

I am sorry to break the news that my beloved camera has gone to technology heaven. Last week, it had a run in with a leaky water bottle and lost. After a week of IRT (Intensive Rice Therapy), I have decided to pull the plug. Even though it's just a piece of plastic and metal, I'm still devastated. My camera has been with me through thick and thin since December of 2009. Its life was too short, but I can testify to the fact that it lived to its fullest potential.

It has been to 15 countries (and 2 principalities). It was witness to the excitement of the night at Carnevale in Venice, and the dark, dirty corners of Napier Prison. It has recorded hours of brilliant music at concerts and festivals. My dear camera came to the tops of the highest medieval bell towers and deep down into the tunnels used in World War I. It has been through caves and castles, to Sasquatch and Shambhala, and around Hogwarts and Hobbiton. Although I can replace the physical body, I will never forget the adventures we shared together. Rest in peace my beloved little black box, I will miss you.

And the Award for Most Popular Nationality of People Visiting New Zealand Goes To..

The Magic Bus stops at a winery in between Picton and Nelson that offers a wine tasting for only $2. You get to try 5 different wines, which is such a good deal that you really can't turn it down. Nearly everyone on our bus headed in for a taste. The woman who poured the wine tried making conversation with all 28 of us, and asked, “So where are you from? Well, all over I guess, eh?”

A guy in the back responded, “Yup, all over Germany.”

Accurate joke was accurate.

Wellington, Again

Because it was Danna's first time in Wellington, I took her around to a lot of the same sights I had been to on my first weekend in the city. This was fine with me since it is a beautiful city with the great vibe. The first evening we had a free dinner in the hostel followed by a walk down Cuba street, took advantage of happy hour in our hostel bar, and then went out to Courtney Place for a few drinks. We were still exhausted from canoeing the day before though, so we went to bed early. The next day, we slept in (glorious!) and then went to the free national museum, Te Papa. When we were done, we stumbled on a Hare Krishna festival happening on the waterfront, so we got free henna tattoos and free curry for lunch! After that, we went up the cable car, wandered around the botanical gardens, and then went back to the hostel where I had my first nap in a long time. That evening we went out to watch fireworks over the waterfront for Chinese New Year. I think Wellington is my favourite city in New Zealand. I'm a bit sad to be leaving.

Whanganui Canoe Safari

After working our legs out so much on the Tongariro crossing, Danna and I felt that our arms needed some attention as well, so we booked ourselves into a Canoe Safaris adventure on the Whanganui River. I had purchased a GrabOne (similar to a Groupon deal) for this which got us a hotel room in Ohakune for a night and a full day out on the river, which is just west of Tongariro National Park. I didn't entirely know what the trip would be, but I was expecting more of a leisurely float down a river. Instead, we ended up on a 22km trek over rapids and constantly had to avoid shallow rocks. It was hard work.

I took the back seat to act as the steering captain. The last time I was in a canoe was in August when I went to Jasper with my family. We went out onto Pyramid Lake, and my brother was in the back doing all the work while I lazily paddled every once in a while, thinking I was helping to move us around the lake. Not so much this time. I am so sorry I was such a tool, Robert. Now I understand.

It took me about a kilometre to get used to steering, and then whenever I felt tired or got distracted by our beautiful surroundings, our canoe steered itself into the side of the river where low tree branches grow and spiders like to hang out. We fell to the back of the group of five other canoes, and so we were never able to stop paddling because we were constantly playing catch up. Then again, at one of corners with more intense rapids, I steered us through while two other canoes tipped over. So we weren't that bad!

Just when I thought I couldn't paddle much farther, we came to our lunch stop: the Lavender Fields Cafe. True to its name, a small wooden cabin surrounded by lavender in full bloom welcomed us in to sit in the shade and rest our weary arms. After that, a short 30 minute ride took us to the pick up point, where I jumped into the river to cool off, and then had a relaxing nap on the hour long drive back to Ohakune.

My arms are dead. But tickets for the gun show go on sale tomorrow at 10AM.

Happy? Hippie. Happy Hippie!

When we went for dinner at the pub in Taupo, there were about three tables full of people from the Magic Bus. As the night went on, numbers started to dwindle and Danna went to join another table as I was deep in conversation with a couple from England. Ruth and Frank decided to head back to the backpackers around 10, and I went to the bathroom. When Danna noticed our table was empty, she became concerned, so she asked Russ, another Magic Bus driver, if he had seen me. He responded in a thick Kiwi accent, and the conversation went like this:

Russ: Does she have a nose ring?

Danna: Yes!

Russ: Is she wearing a green knit sweater?

Danna: Yes!!!

Russ: Is she a happy?

Danna: Is she happy? Yes?

Russ: No, is she a hap-pie?

Danna: Yeah, she's happy.

Russ: Is she a HIP-PAY?

Danna: OH!! Sure..

When I got back to the table, everyone shouted “Heyyy! Hippie!!!” And made room for me to sit down. I really didn't understand where the nickname came from, but I was referred to only as 'Hippie' for the rest of the night. I have always joked that I am a hippie, but I thought I was the only one who thought so. The backstory didn't come out until I asked Danna the next day. My wonderful dirty backpacker lifestyle has finally made my the hippie I know inside become visible on the outside. I'm kind of proud.

Tongariro'd

One of the most famous day hikes in New Zealand is the Tongariro Alpine Crossing, which is known to be a strenuous 19 km hike over the volcanos in Tongariro National Park. If the weather is bad, the shuttle buses do not operate since the trek can be seriously dangerous in the rain. Prospective hikers are warned that this is not a leisurely stroll, and that proper attire and hiking footwear are necessary. The shuttle drops people off at one end of the trail at 7:30AM and picks them up 8 hours later, so you need to make sure you are capable of walking fast enough to meet the bus at the end. I was a bit concerned over this, because I am as slow as a turtle when I climb up hills, but I decided to take the risk. We woke up Tuesday morning to a blue sky and the promises of a great day.

The trail is absolutely beautiful, and begins with a few kilometres of flat ground that were carved out by a glacier thousands of years ago. All the people on our bus blew past Danna and I, making us worry about the increased fitness level of the rest of our group. We went at our own pace though, and reached the Devil's Staircase, which brought us up 300 metres higher. At the top was the turn off to the summit of Mt Ngauruhoe, or what I like to call Mt Doom since it was where Frodo destroyed the ring in the Lord of the Rings films. To climb to the summit of Ngauruhoe, you need to be 'super fit', and it adds about 3 hours to your hike. I skipped it, as did everyone else on our bus. Mt Doom from afar is good enough for me.

From there, we walked across the Southern crater to the turn off for the optional hike to the summit of Tongariro. I had a lot of energy still, and was 2 hours ahead of the schedule the guides had given me so I decided to walk up to the summit of Tongariro, which added an extra 3km to my hike. Danna decided to skip it, so I went on my own with plans to meet her at a later rest stop. It was a fairly easy trek, and showed views to the Northwest of the farmland down below and Mt Taranaki far off in the distance. As I was returning to the main trail, I met up with a lot of people from my bus. Even though they raced down the trail for the first stretch, everyone seemed to slow down once the incline started, and I was comforted to know I wasn't falling behind. As the trail continued, I reached the peak of the hike at 1886m that gave great views into the Red Crater. It was really impossible to forget you were climbing volcanos and not just mountains. From there, there was a long, steep scree slope going downhill filled with loose rocks and a lot of dirt. People were tentatively finding their way down, but it was actually my favourite part of the hike. I felt like I was running down a sand hill. Flex your feet, swing your arms, and strut like a giant! That was my motto, and it brought me down to the Emerald Lakes which are surrounded by steam vents. When I climbed Mt Vesuvius in Italy, there was snow on top of the volcano which was a pretty convincing indicator that it wouldn't explode with me on it. On the other hand, the volcano range I was on here was still active and has erupted in my lifetime. There are signposts that give information on what to do a volcano does erupt, but the underlying message there is that you're screwed. Luckily, the lava stayed inside the volcanos, and after a relaxing lunch Danna and I kept going. We ended up walking with a man named Frank who was on our bus who made the conversation interesting as we trekked along the final stretch. The last 6km were down the other side of the range with a wonderful view of Lake Taupo, and then through the cool forest to the carpark. It wasn't until the last kilometre that my legs started to wobble.

Overall I did 22.4km, which is the second longest hike I've done. I finished with half an hour to spare, so I have to say it was a bit overhyped, but just helped to boost my self esteem. Part of me also wants to recognize the energy drink I brought along, which I purchased because I needed another water bottle. This “Loaded Sport Assassin” boasts about having 50% more electrolytes than anything other drink in New Zealand, which makes it responsible for enhancing output in high performance sports. I just got it because it was on sale. Then again, I am also privileged to have grown up hiking in the Rocky Mountains, and that experience definitely helped. Apart from being tired, I escaped with only 4 blisters, which really isn't too bad for such a long walk. Overall, it was a wonderful day in the outdoors amongst the barren landscape of lava scarred mountains.

A Belated Reflection on 2011

I meant to do a classic 'reflection' blog post around New Years that looked back on 2011, but I got distracted with other things and forgot. So I'm going to do it now.

2011 was an amazing year for me. My biggest passion in life right now is travel, and I definitely travelled a lot. In February I went to Florida for Reading Week and spent a week in the sun exploring Harry Potter World, Universal Studios, and Disney World. I was accepted into a Spring study abroad program that allowed me to explore France for seven weeks in May and June. When I was there, I received the final credits for my degree by learning the French language and culture while immersed in the country itself. In the beginning of August, I went to BC for a week to experience the wonders of Shambhala Music Festival and at the end of the month, I escaped to Jasper for a few days of fresh mountain air. In September, I went on a West Coast trip with Trish and Jill, and caught up with friends and family in Vancouver, Seattle, and Portland. And of course, I finished off the last month and a half of the year here in New Zealand.

Other than that, I had a fantastic summer in Edmonton with my friends that continued on into the first Fall I can remember that didn't come with the stress of school. Right as I was preparing to leave Edmonton, I realized I was going to miss it for the first time since I started travelling on my own. It is really nice to feel an attachment to a place and the people in it. In November I convocated from the U of A with an English Degree which was the close of another chapter in my life. My first job in New Zealand was to be a writer, which felt amazingly self-affirming in that I obviously did something right during my degree.

As the year drew to a close and everyone around me reflected on how their own year went, I realized 2011 was one of the best years of my life. The only bad thing was the passing of my grandfather, which happened exactly a year ago today. My dear Gido has been on my mind for the past few days. If he was still here, I figure he'd be like my Baba, and not really understand why I continue to want to travel when I've already gone places. It's time for a house and husband! But really, whenever I talk to my Baba I just hear the excitement in her voice to talk to me and to hear I'm having a good time. And a good time I'm having. Here's to you, Gido.

2012 has already been full of communing with nature, meeting new people, great live music, new and unique experiences, and the best crazy dancing. Plans for my future are open to pretty much anything in the world. I am so lucky to have the life I do along with the support of my wonderful friends and family.  I can only hope that the rest of the year will be as spectacular as the first month has been.