The Dilemma of the Fluffy Pink Cloud/Photo Album: 10

Our last 2 days have been incredibly full and today , being Thrsday (is it?), is a day of rest. Day before yesterday we wandered around Paihia. Having arrived the night before we were intent on finding an outfitter willing to take us on a sea-kayaking trip. Having in mind our enjoyable day in Cable Bay on the South Island we looked about for potential guides and found our way to a bloke named Dan. Now both Michele and I could have payed attention to our initial impressions of Dan, but alas, we did not. In time those initial impressions seem to confirm the following events. As we arrived at the put-in Dan explained he was taking us on a 'special' paddle. A longer paddle than usual (all told it was 14 miles in about 5.5 hours), and in addition it was in a somewhat unfamiliar area. Once on the water Dan explained that he'd been sucked out to sea on a surfboard in this very area 2 months ago, and was luckily found by his friends just as the sun set, foreboding eh? As it happened we surfed the kayak (Kenneth and Michele in a double) for a bit before heading out to circle the targeted island. We yelled ahead to Dan to wait up, he stopped and apologized for 'motoring ahead' explaining he'd just gotten the 'urge' to do so. I suddenly realized how young Dan was, and got a itching feeling about the dependability of his decision making. When I asked where we were headed he said to look at the map in front of me, there was no map, Dan said, "oh well!" As we neared the point we were to round a storm cloud materialized overhead. It didn't rain a bit, but the cooling of the water from the cloud started to cause quite large swells(I guess anout 2 meters). As Dan wandered around (out of site) to pick mussels off the rocks (which we had for dinner that night), Kenneth's panic button began to be pushed. It was unclear to both of us where we were headed and what the timeframe was. After some coercing Dan continued on, exhibiting some more 'urge' for 'motoring ahead' and paddling through tight archways out of sight where we were unwilling to paddle. As the tension began to ease with the moving away of the raincloud Dan became uneasy, after answering his cell-phone he noticed what time it was, and though he promised a quick snack on a beach he emphasized that time was tight. After we scarfed down some juice and chips we headed across the last bay as the sun began to turn pink (skinny pink clouds, not big fluffy ones). Though it was hard not to stop and gaze for awhile I finally realized where we were and how much further we had to go. We were just passing the waves we'd been surfing on and already the coastline was backlit and dark. As the sun set Dan seemed unsure of where exactly the car was, and Michele and I were moments from insisting we land the boats because the dark was nearly absolute when someone in the parking lot turned on their headlights and we could se the way. Absolute darkness fell as we loaded the boats. All worked out well, but it was VERY close to being uncomfortable. Michele and I congratulated ourselves with warm showers, a movie and broccoli with mussels at a nearby hostel. That night after doing laundry I drove until about 1 AM to the next town up so we could board a bus that morning to Cape Reinga, the Northern point of the North Island where the Tasman Sea and Pacific Ocean meet. The next day (yesterday) was fun-filled and delirious. Sore from our paddle (and not quite enough sleep) we viewed the coast and Kenneth, for one, vowed to visit again -- the waves far below echoing so deeply you could feel it affect your heartbeat. On the way back we got to sled down giant sand-dunes (highly recommended), and our guide informed us of various tidbits. On our drive that afternoon to Paihia the sun began to set and Michele decided to pull over and ask me to take some pictures of the 'big fluffy pink cloud'. After I'd been taking pictures for about 10 mintues Michele said
"Umm, which cloud are you taking pictures of?"
"The big pink one, over there," I said.
"No not that one, this one!!" Michele explained in exasperation.
"And now it's too late, that one's not pink anymore, before it was really big and fluffy and REALLY pink, now it's just big and fluffy and kind of pink!!" Her disappointment was becoming all to clear to me now. Michele just couldn't understand how I'd thought she meant a different big fluffy cloud than she had intended. I felt admittedly at fault, explaining that I had been taking pictures of a pink cloud, and I was sorry it was the wrong one. I try to take from this a lesson. Namely that there are all kinds of pink fluffy clouds in the world, and you can't assume that someone else's pink fluffy cloud is the same as yours, it's a dangerous business.

Fun and Games in the North Island/Photo Albums: 7,8,9&10

Everything works better when you can laugh about it, and Kenneth and I have been having our share of laughter. Since we last wrote, we saw a very funny production at a local theater in Wellington, the Circa, called "The Underpants." Of course we went because it was adapted by Steve Martin, Kenneth's comedy idol. Our time in Wellington was entirely cultural -- in addition to the theater, we visited Te Papa, the HUGE museum there -- for four days straight! It wasn't too hard to spend all our time there; we discovered that we could camp out in the museum parking lot for virtually nothing, and the museum is just incredible. We saw the Lord of the Rings exhibit, with costumes and sword and props and videos; an exhibit from Japan with kimonos, armor, ancient pots, and art; exhibits on geology and natural history, immigrants (human, flora, and fauna) to NZ, Italians in NZ, wool and sheep, fish and insects and birds, you name it! After loading our brains with all that information, we drove to experience the volcanos and thermal activity in the central plateau of the north island. We hiked in the Togariro National Park, admiring the view of Mt Ruapehu, Mt Pukekaikiore, and Mt Ngauruhoe (none of which we can pronounce), as well as the Tama Lakes, craters formed from ancient explosions. The snow on the volcano tops convinced us to drive north to Rotorua, where we soaked in steaming mineral pools at the Polynesian Spa (one of the world's best!). Luckily our admission to the spa was included in our tickets to a "Maori experience," an evening in a pre-European Maori village that included pit-cooked dinner and a fascinating display song and dance. Kenneth volunteered to be the "Chief" of our group of visitors, so he touched noses with the Maori chief and gave a little speech thanking him for allowing our "Tribe of 11 nations" to dine with them. Sick of the sulphur stench of Rotorua, we headed out of town -- but not before indulging in some beautiful pieces of Maori-made art: Kenneth chose a carved whalebone pendant, and Michele picked an expertly carved piece of pounamu, or greenstone, a type of jade found only in NZ. Arriving late in Napier, we were greeted the next morning by friendly neighbors who offered us use of their bathroom, and tea and cake with conversation. We watched a video and took a guided tour of the city's incredible art deco architecture, built in the 1930s after the city was levelled by an earthquake that raised the ground level by 2 meters, doubling the land area there! We adored Napier -- parking on a neighborhood street made us friends, as the locals inquired about our travelling and invited us in for showers, toilets, tea, cake, and fresh fruit (no less than 4 invitations from separate people to come into their homes!!-in 48 hours no less). Kenneth took A LOT of pictures, including the interior of a showpiece home (the one we happened to park by, good going Michele for picking that spot!), that even had an elevator, to complement its impeccable decor. We want to go back for their annual Art Deco weekend, where everybody dresses up and parties, Deco style. But can you believe they don't have swing dancing at the Deco weekend? We're convinced we're the ones to bring it to them. From Napier we drove up the east coast to a farm outside Gisbourne, home of Marie and John Lepper, with whom we spent the week. Their driveway was an adventure in itself -- first you have to drive through a river (they've only had one car washed away), then stop on a slippery slope for two gates. Getting out to open them was freaky, because the pigs on the other side of the fence made horrible grunting squealing noises in the dark. Made me fear I was about to be eaten. We peeled and juiced apples for the Leppers and Kenneth dug a ditch for their septic field once another wwoofer named Paul joined us on Wednesday (give these men some applause!). John and Marie fed us with fresh veggies and meat they'd raised themselves (they had pigs and deer and sheep, in addition to "chooks" aka chickens, geese, goats, and a few cows). Marie read our palms and John filled our ears with the sweet tunes of Pink Floyd, his favorite, on DVD. We enjoyed watching movies at their house, soaking in the local hot springs, talking with their dinner guests, and comparing wwoofing notes with Paul, also an American. After driving up to Tauranga, we hiked to the summit of (little) Mt. Maunganui, surrounded by surfers and kayakers at this very beautiful beach. That brings us to today, as we do email and post in Wharangei, on our way to exploring the north of the north island. We've gotten really good at making fun of each other, and after months of infrequent showers, we hardly mind the smell anymore! ;-) We plan to spend the next week exploring the north, hopefully kayaking or sailing and seeing some big kauri trees, before we wwoof again, sell our van (sniffle), and head for Australia. We miss you all and send you love!

Deep Thoughts with Kenneth

As many of those who know Michele and me will atest to, we are planners. That's not to say we get all of what we plan done mind you, we are simply developing a parallel life on paper in the form of lists. When in art school it occurred to me to start saving my lists, thereby retaining the genealogy of the lists I write today. You see a list is a funny thing, no list ever actually is completed. By the time a list is half way done I usually find it's been added to and scribbled at so much it's nearly illegible, so I copy the remaining items onto a new list, only to repeat the cycle in a few days. It's a difficult habit because you never feel like you're done. In a culture where productivity is a measure of worth it can feel defeating to not be able to conquer a single 4"x6" sheet of paper (I prefer side-ring pocket notebooks and ball point Bic pens). It's a relentless existence, and it's mostly inside my head. The question is, am I working for the list or is the list working for me? Ultimately I have to admit it's a relationship of addiction and dependence. I try to go for a few days without a list, and then it all crashes down on me at a pivotal moment of remembering things I don't trust myself not to forget. It's funny how my lists, which I'd like to think make me more efficient, are actually the result of a lack of trust in myself and my environment. It's not as if I clear my mind of the things on the list, oh no, I continue thinking about them over and over, double and triple checking that certain items are actually written down and that I didn't imagine them. It's a silly business and I often wonder, if I took all that worry time and just got the thing done, maybe I'd be more productive and not have this list-issue hanging over my psyche. But then the 4footx 6foot notepad in my head saddles up to me, its wirey sidering on my shoulder, and peering down at me its other arm (a huge Bic pen) writes on its face of blue lines a frown and teardrop eyes, and I think maybe this time we can work it out, we're not through yet. And then, post self-argument, I sit down with my pen and pad and recopy my list for tommorrow.

P.S.-Yes, this is the kind of thing I think about when I travel.

Are we in Yuma?....(a ramble from Michele)/Photo Album:6

Here Kenneth and I are in Nelson, at the north end of the south island. It's been a mere two weeks since we headed out from our original destination of Queenstown, and my, hasn't it been interesting.... Since our last entry, we took three days to travel up the west coast, including lovely short hikes at the Fox and Franz Josef Glaciers. Finally we made contact with a WWOOFing host, who agreed to have us beginning Monday, May1. April concluded with a magnificent day on Whararinki Beach, at the very tip of the south island, which is reached by an almost surreal hike through gorgeous green rolling fields dotted with sheepies. The beach is renowned for huge arches in the ocean and compelling caves amidst the dunes, but our favorite part of this day was watching some seal pups bodysurf and frolic in the waves! We began our first wwoofing adventure with willing hands and curious minds, and boy oh boy did we learn a lot. While we enjoyed the weeding and mucking out the sheep/goat shelter, we experienced our (native Canadian) host as overwhelmingly negative and discouraged in her own attempts at self-sufficiency... probably, we guess, because she left out the ingredient we've realized we want most of all: community. It seems her efforts to run to the farthest corner of the earth, to avoid the bloodshed when the "shit hits the fan," set her up for a greater degree of isolation than she'd intended. Or maybe she just didn't realize how much she'd have to do all alone. We're thankful for the experience, even though our (graceful) early exit left us feeling a bit discouraged ourselves, because it so strongly impressed on us how much we want to grow our own food out of a sense of abundance and gratitude, not fear and scarcity.
Having said all that, we haven't been able to line up a next wwoofing gig! Which leaves us feeling that we're just tourists in New Zealand.... Not a completely unenviable situation, it's true, but it's not what we came for. We're deep in discussions around how much longer we should stay in NZ, whether we can find more learning opportunities in Australia, and what kind of situation we'd like to look for/create for the life we envision. It's ironic to us that our travels have made us more aware of the resources and vision of home.... Maybe that was the point.