The Coming of Summer

Some notes from Liz:

Back home, y'all are dealing with snow flurries, changing leaves, and biting winds. In Paihia, every day is sunnier and hotter than the last. Jen and I went to the beach today, had a proper swim for the first time in the ocean (before it's been more of a dive-in-and-then-leap-out-shrieking kind of situation), and laid in the sun for what felt like hours. (Don't worry, no sun burn.)

Yesterday, in a strange return to childhood, the eight of us here at Centabay literally spent three hours racing around the hostel and yard playing kick-the-can, "man hunt" (a U.K. game similar to tag), and Sardines. I think we have now exhausted every single hiding spot in this place.

If you're not familiar with the game Sardines, it's a pretty basic concept - one person hides while the others count, and then the seekers split up and search. When a seeker find the hiding spot, he or she climbs in, which often requires contorting his or her body and getting wayyy too close for comfort. Eventually everyone is crammed into a tiny space, trying hard to be quiet. The last person to find the cluster is the new hider the next round.

Our game ended with an epic grand finale when Dan, the Englishman (he apparently hates showering, which is not exactly someone who you want to play Sardines with) decided to hide in the spa pool (hot tub.) (The hot, chlorine-y water probably did him a world of good.) The hot tub is covered with a large foam lid when not in use. Dan lay prone underneath the mat, sticking his nose out of the water like some kind of primitive sea creature. One by one, we came by and lifted the lid, half as a joke, and found underneath several of our colleagues, fully clothed, half-submerged, gulping breaths in the inch of air between the bubbles and the lid. I was fifth to find the group; we lay in the hot water perfectly still, deaf with our submerged ears, waiting.

What's really amazing is how quickly I went, "Right, get in," and clambered in, shorts and shirt and all, pulling the lid over my head like a blankie. Never did I stop and think, "Wait. What am I doing?" Sardines is a serious game.

Jen was last to find us - she said the strange lumpiness of the foam cover made it obvious. She pulled off the lid and climbed in herself, and we all sat there for a little while under the hyacinths.

Leave Us Comments!

Jen and I are interested in finding out who exactly is reading the blog and if you’re finding it interesting. We want to keep you all posted in a way that’s entertaining, educational, and perhaps inspiring to everyone back home. Do you read this? What do you like about it? What suggestions do you have? What do you want to read or see more of? Leave us a comment. We love and miss you all –

Sincerely,
Jen and Liz

The past few days...

Hey all! (This was written a few days ago)

While Liz spent her day in Whangerei, a few friends and I headed off to a bird sanctuary and beach. We took the car across the bay on the car ferry and then drove about 45 minutes or so through bright green hills dotted with white sheep. I love just driving through New Zealand. It's always ...so peaceful. Plus, I always SERIOUSLY feel that a hobbit is just going to come around the bend. 

Anyways, the bird sanctuary was amazing and completely deserted. The paths could barely even be seen and we spent most of our time forging through tall, wild grasses. We ended up on a COMPLETELY empty beach with HUGE waves that were taller than me. Everyone just ran through the water, laughing and swallowing enough salt for a whole month's consumption. We then ate lunch on the beach before heading back. One problem though: I had to be back for a doctor's appointment (another story) and we were worried about trying to find our trail back in time. So we decided to just try and walk around the ocean on the black rocks. Everything was fine and we were making great time until.......we were about 15 feet up from the ocean on the rocks and the rocks suddenly DROPPED OFF in a cliff. There was about 10 feet of open space until the rocks picked up again in another high cliff. And you couldn't just jump and swim; the waves kept slamming into the rocks, forcing up sprays as high as 15 feet. We didn't want to backtrack because we didn't really have time to do that. So what did we do?

We climbed UP the rocks. 

We climbed about 30 feet up the black cliffs to the top where the woods (and path) were. It. was. epic. We climbed, with only cracks in the rocks only big enough for our fingertips and toes to help us climb. IT WAS AWESOME. I felt like some super sick climber. (I mean, I'm sure it really wasn't that cool; I just felt it was.) So we finallllllly got to the top, hearts pounding, and feeling pretty proud of ourselves. :)

Funnily enough, now that I think about it, we only saw one kind of bird in the bird sanctuary. Hmmm.

And now - TODAY:

I managed to get a free ticket on "The Magistrate", a dolphin cruiser. So I was able to go on board and have an AWESOME day! I got to sit up in the "cockpit?" (whatever the place is called where the skipper sits) and watch him drive the boat. I got free tea and biscuits. I even got my picture taken by the "official photographer" for free. It was great. :) 

But even better?! THE VIEWS! I saw SOOOO many dolphins! None were really jumping about; they were all just fishing. Some cool dolphin facts that I learned today:

- Dolphins spend 60% of their time mating. They mate for pleasure and do not discriminate between the sexes when it comes time for having fun. 

- Female dolphins can carry sperm inside of them for 6 months, allowing them to choose EXACTLY when they want to get pregnant.

- When a baby dolphin dies, the mom will literally carry the body on her back until it disintegrates. This process takes about 2 weeks. (This fact I found the MOST interesting....a natural grieving process for dolphins...hmnmm).

The boat stopped off at Urupukapuka Island for about an hour and I was free to roam about until the boat took off again. Most of the passengers headed off to the lookout point, but I headed for a small path that took me through hills and hills and hills of sheep. AND LAMBS! AHHHHH!!!! They were absolutely ADORABLE. I must have looked like such a tourist, giggling and smiling and taking pictures of SHEEP. But it was great! I was just trudging through these fields (I guess that's the right word) around the island, surrounded by the bright blue ocean, all by myself. It was awesome! (Except for the sheep poop now covering my flip flops.) 

Then I came back and had to go to work. Blah. 

 

Enjoy the pictures! :)

Highs and Lows

This is Liz, with a tale of two days ago:

Monday afternoon (I think it was Monday), after cleaning, and lunch, and showers, and making sandwiches, we, with our housemates, drove south, through the same beautiful, green, hilly landscape that continues to wow us. After an hour and a half, we reached Mt. Manaio in Whangarei Heads. We left the little burgundy sedan in the otherwise empty car park, shouldered our backpacks, and headed up the (mini) mountain. It was an awesomely hot and sunny day.

It took us about forty-five minutes to make it to the top - forty-five long, sweaty, calf-aching minutes. For some reason, instead of sensibly building nice dirt switchbacks up the mountain, the trail builders had put in numerous giant, steep staircases. We climbed stairs for EVER. Jen and I slogged along, and Jamie and Lewis took up the rear, using their F-word-heavy vocabulary and occasionally resorting to actually crawling up the steps.


At the top, however, we all agreed that the climb had been worth it. We had a three hundred and sixty degree view of our fantastical temporary home. Mountains, rolling hills, sheep-dotted farmland, and then the sea sprawled all around us in bright greens and blues. We climbed around on the spires of bare rock at the top; long ago, Maori men used to bring their dead chiefs up here to the top of this sacred mount. We ate bananas and biscuits (oops - cookies) and lounged in the sun.

Eventually, we made our way down again, stopping at another lookout to freak ourselves out by peering over the drop-off and to take a few jumping pictures (my favorite.) Then we ran the rest of the way down, hopping down the steps and sprinting the straight-aways. It was simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating. (Jen might go more for the 'terrifying,' but that's because she had three of us "rhinoceroses," as she kindly referred to us as, huffing on her tail.)


But now the story changes. When we made the bottom and rounded the last curve of trail into the car park, the sedan still the only resident, we were greeted with a nasty shock. The front driver's side window had been smashed in. There was glass everywhere. It lay in sparkly, powdery piles all over the concrete and the seats inside. We rummaged through the car's interior, and the trunk, which had been popped from the inside.

My brand-new iPod, and Jen's purse (containing her wallet, bank cards, drivers' license, passport, our cell phone, and many personal valuables) were gone.

We were all shocked. New Zealand was supposed to be the land of happy backpackers and kiwis, not the land of petty theft. When Lewis ran up to the bar at the top of the hill to use their phone, however, they told him it was the third theft in that lot in as many days. Could've put a bloody sign up. We phoned the police, made a report, and made our saddened way home.

Halfway back, we pulled into a pub. The bartender, upon hearing our sad story, hooked us up with a free pitcher of the local brew, and we sat outside in the sun by the harbor, watched the sea gulls, and had a mini beer. Jen phoned the banks to cancel her cards. We were all still reasonably cheerful, and remain upbeat about the situation. It's hard to be bummed out when you're sitting in the sun, staring at a big blue ocean, talking with your good friends and enjoying a free (quarter-) pint. Even on the drive home, when it suddenly started pouring and we all got pelted with chilly wind and raindrops from the open window, we just snuggled up to each other and turned the heat on high.

It was definitely a day of ups and downs, but we've worked things out: made a police report and an appointment to replace the passport, and bought a new cell phone. At the end of the day, it's just missing stuff - and we still have the memories of staring out over the blue-green world, and running down a mountain, top speed, flying on the tips of our toes.

Some Pictures

Jen and I out at the local cafe "Frank's," watching some live music.

We found the tiniest little oranges on a walk! They were adorable.

On a hike up Mt. Manaio. (I have no idea if that's the proper spelling or not.)

The same hike - it was a steep climb up.

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.

Halloween, New Zealand Style

Halloween in New Zealand was appropriately chilly, cloudy, and damp, but it had none of the other usual components. None of the grocery stores had specials on giant grab bags of tiny candy bars, or had any candy corn or pumpkins for sale at all. There was not a single porch hosting a jack-o-lantern, not a single giggling group of kids carrying pillowcases. The leaves were green and bright, the flowers were out in full force, and the air smelled like sea and honeysuckle, not like bonfires and crunchy red leaves.

At one point several of us were walking down the street in full regalia and a curious car stopped and rolled down its window.

“Wot’s this?” the man said from within. “Some sort of costume party?”

“It’s Halloween!” I cried, practically heartbroken. What kind of strange parallel universe were we in?

Despite the complete wackiness of this country that does not recognize one of the best holidays created, good ol’ Centabay managed to throw a pretty awesome Halloween party. Jen and I were fire and ice. I was fire, with a red dress, golden paper flames, and an amount of golden glitter that would have given my dad a heart attack. (“It’s going to be all over the carpet!” I can just hear him cry.) Jen was ice, with a blue dress, a string of beautiful snowflakes, and an equal dose of silver glitter. Fio and Holly were a devil and an angel; the Scotsmen were…Scotsmen (officially they were the older and younger versions of William Wallace from Braveheart, with their kilts and lots of blue paint); the neighbors were Ninja Turtles; etc.

Jen and I made a batch of mud cake with extra creepy worms (lemme tell you something – I had never before met a mud cake expert, but I have found one in Jennifer.) We all played lots of games in the hostel kitchen, with all three tables pushed together, and then paraded around town in costume. About ten percent of the people out were costumed; everyone else was a lame party pooper.

The best part of Halloween? I brought a bag of candy corn from home (thanks, mommy!) and Jen and I saved it the entire first month (revealing strengths of will that I never knew I had.) As soon as midnight struck and the day officially rolled over, we broke out the bag.




Happy Belated Halloween to everyone at home – how was your holiday? What did everyone dress up as? Leave your costume in a comment!