Field Trip to Whangarei

Report from Liz:

The day before yesterday, we went on a field trip to Whangerei (pronounced “fahng-ah-RAY.”) Jamie, Lewis, Fio, and I piled into Jack’s large van, and he drove us all the hour or so into the “big city.” The soundtrack was a mix CD Jack had apparently created of several top 40 hits from the U.S., including some suspiciously girly ones. We drove through an endless stretch of rolling green hills, patches of jungled forest, tiny towns surrounded by an army of sheep. “I’m in New Zealand,” I kept thinking. “This is amazing.” Every second that I open my eyes it takes me by surprise.

Jack dropped Fio and I off at the Whangarei Falls; he and the boys drove into the city for a pint and some grocery shopping. Jack also had a coffee date with a woman he’d met on an internet dating site. (Sometimes he asks us for help with pick-up lines.)

Fio and I crossed a sunny, miniature bridge over a river, meandered through a lush green field, hopped down a short staircase, and suddenly, there were the falls. They were forty or fifty feet high, dropping in three straight streams into a giant green pool, clustered by ferns and vines clinging to the mossy rock. Fio and I made sounds of amazement.

“Honestly, we have ones like this in Peru,” Fio said. “In the jungle – maybe some even prettier. But these are beautiful.”

“It’s amazing,” I said, looking at the sunlight filtering through the giant fern trees, the blue water dropping dozens of feet through the light. It looked nothing like Michigan.

We made our way to the bottom of the falls and the edge of the murky green pool at its base, where Fio said, “I almost feel like jumping in.”

She should have picked someone else to mention this to. “Yeah!” I cheered. “Wanna? For real? Let’s go.” Ten minutes later we were diving into the pool head-first. It was ice-cold, shocking, breath-taking. We stayed in long enough, shrieking and waving our arms in the air, for the elderly English couple we’d enlisted to take a couple of pictures, and then we clambered out over the algal stones and logs, our clothes dripping.

It was pretty awesome.

We wandered around for awhile longer, trying to dry out in the sun and exploring a small dirt path that followed the river downstream. Eventually we turned around and started the walk back to the city centre. It was five km back to where the guys would pick us up – happily all downhill. We tried hitching for about five minutes, but quickly gave up and decided a walk in the sun was better anyway. We followed the blue signs, stayed on the sidewalk, and only needed to ask directions once. The walk was uneventful except for my discovery (and I’m sure Fio wouldn’t call this an event either) of a house with a sycamore, an oak, and a ginkgo tree in its front garden. I literally shouted with excitement when I saw them. Trees I knew the names of! It felt a little like running into old friends on an alien planet.

We made it into the city; Fio bought a wrap from McDonalds; I bought a real coffee; we learned that Whangarei lacks a single Mexican restaurant; Jack picked us up from the designated car park and we drove home. We stopped in the city of Kawakawa on the way and Jack told us to get out and look at the toilets. “They’re world-famous,” he said. “Go inside. I’ll get gas and be back in five minutes.” We hopped out obediently, he sped away, and we looked at the toilets. They were designed by artist Friedrich Hundertwasser, who died soon after their creation, and they really are beautiful. The floors and walls slope and curve and every surface is a mosaic of tiles and glass. We all had a pee and then hurried outside. Jack slowed the van and we leaped in and we were off again.