Wwoofing in Middle Earth

Epilogue?

2006-12-16T08:23:00.000+13:00

My apologies to anyone still reading at this point. I have been working on this draft since December 16. What can I say? The holidays really are hectic.

I hesitate to call this an epilogue, as that implies some sort of finality, the end of my adventures, which are certainly far from over, as far as I'm concerned.

The flight back home did not go nearly as smoothly as the one to New Zealand had. The plane out of Auckland was delayed an hour and a half; they were apparently trying to fix one of the bathrooms, which they did not succeed in doing anyway. This meant there was only one toilet in my section of the plane. That was fun, waiting in line (really, it was good to stand up for a while). The flight was quite full, so there was someone in the seat right nest to me, although I did get the window, which was grand. Bizarrely enough, the couple right next to me, in their 60s, were actually about to move to Santa Fe from Dallas. Small world. I had no luck sleeping on the flight this time. I watched a movie and then tried to sleep, but that really didn't work out, so I watched another movie... Due to the delay, we didn't get to LAX until noon, which meant that I had exactly an hour to get my bags, go through customs, get to a different terminal, recheck my bags, and go through security. Wasn't going to happen. At an airport like LAX, I doubt it would be possible to transfer from one domestic flight to another in an hour. The next flight to Albuquerque wasn't until 4:40, three and a half hours later than my original one. Everything ended up working out fine, but by the time I got to the waiting area for my flight home, I was so tired, hungry, and frustrated I felt like weeping.

How to properly end this account of my exploits? I suppose I could impart some good advice, or, if not advice, at least a list of What I Have Learned:
1. Travelling alone kind of sucks. I will be frank. Wwoofing on my own was fine, because there were always other people around with whom I could converse, there was always a set task (or a number of them) for the day, and I didn't have to worry about moving around and houling all my stuff with me (my backback weight 45 lbs my the end of trip). Once I got to the actual traelling part of my trip, however, it became considerably more difficult being on my own. For one thing, you have to contstantly be thinking, making sure you're not forgetting anything, that you're belongings are safe. When you're travelling with someone else, you can have them watch your bags when you go to the bathroom. Not so if you're alone; you've got to get them all in the stall with you. Also, travelling alone, you've no one to talk to most of the time, or at least, I didn't. The truth of the matter is that I am not really the most greagrious person. It isn't that I'm not friendly, but I often won't feel comfortable starting a conversation with someone I don't know at all. So, in travelling alone, I tented to gave a lot of solitude, which, in overly lare quantities, can turn into loneliness. I know not everyone is like this. Many people have a far easier time being enirley at ease and uninhibited around strangers, and more power to them. Really, though, it'sjust a comfort having a travelling companion, knowing that no matter what misfortune befalls you, at least you won't be in it alone.
2. As far as slogging things around like a mule goes, backpacks are far more comfortable and ergonomically friendly than any other type of bag. I did not bring a daypack, and I found my messenger bag to be extremely uncomfortable. I took it on one hike and was utterly miserable. Carrying things on one shoulder is not fun and should be avoided, After that unpleasant hike, I ended up buying a small daypack, which actually made things much easier for me. Also, as I would repack my bag everytime I would go somewhere different, I got better and better at making everything fit. Large part of it was not carrying my shoes inside my bag, but strapping them to the outside of it--little things like that. My bag was far more efficiently packed on my return then it was when I departed.
3. I found that a large part of my enjoyment was directly related to the food I was consuming. This goes without saying, I think, conisdering the number of entiries concerning food. The quality of my food is something that I am really not willing to compromise; luckily, this does not necessarily mean spending exorbitant amounts of money. While I was a woofing, I didn't spend any money on food, and, as I was staying with people with organic sensibilities, ate quite well. As I was travelling around, I would buy enough groceries to make breakfast and dinner at the hostel, and then I would eat an inexpensive lunch somewhere.

What I found was most important during my travels was that I find things that made me comfortable enough to have fun, even if it meant going going slightly out of my way sometimes. And I did have fun, and lots of it. I greatly enjoyed getting to do so many cool things and meeting so many nice people. And I'll definitely be back to NZ--soon, I hope!

...and the feast goes on...

2006-12-12T13:59:00.000+13:00

I can't help--I love writing about food.

(From yesterday, 12/11) I had some very good Pad Thai this evening at a place called Wooloo (Lonely Planet recommended), a sleek, simple noodle house down the road from where I'm staying. Twas a reward, I suppose, after all that time on a bus (Really, I should stop my griping. Five hours isn't so bad--I'll be on a plane for twelve tomorrow.) The restaurant had only two large white tables, and you were served in Chinese take-out boxes--no dishes. I managed to read while I was eating and use my chopsticks competently. I was quite proud of myself.

It's my last night in NZ, something which is quite strange. As much as I have enjoyed being here, I feel no regrets taking my leave, largely because I fully intend to return. I am spending tonight in Auckland again, but this time in Ponsonby, an area far more suited to my tastes than downtown Auckland, I think. Ponsonby isn't far from the city center at all--there's a very good view of it from here, in fact (above)--but there are no skyscrapers in this part of town, and it's quieter. For some reason, the whole area seems to smell of flowers, lilies, although I haven't seen any around. Many of the buildings are older, psuedo-victorian style ones. Ponsonby Road is lined with boutiques and restaurants. It's quite stylish, really, and only a little pretentious. Most of the shops were closed by the time I got out to walk around this evening, but hopefully I'll get to have a look-around in some of them tomorrow. My shuttle to the airport doesn't leave until 3:00. One thing open as went by today was a bookstore called the "Woman's Bookstore." I decided to take a look inside--I'm pretty much helpless when it comes to bookstores. (Just a tidbit: NZ apparently has more bookstore per capita than any other country.) As I walked in, I was greeted by a platter of cheese, crackers, and grapes. I cut myself a piece of brie and went in. Scattered around the fairly small store were a few other platters, some with cheese, some with strawberries and chocolate. There was wine and juice as well. As I browsed, more and more people filtered in, women mostly, but one man as well. I wondered whether this was a weekly thing, or a special occasion. Regardless, it looked open to the public, and it was a good people watching opportunity.

----

Today I had lunch at another Lonely Planet recommended place (my LP book has been wonderfully helpful), a cafe called Dizengoff, housed in an old building with a looming brick facade. The stencil at left was on the side of the building. It's strange: Ponsonby is the first place in NZ that I've seen stencils like this spraypainted places. You see more and more of them in Santa Fe, and I saw quite a few of them while I was in Spain... I like them, really. Back to my lunch, though: I had scrambled eggs (eggs are a far more inexpensive way to get protein that meat), which were, as LP had said, mouthwatering. Scrambled eggs are a food that one generally doesn't think of as being "mouthwatering," as it is so easy to either over- or undercook them, but these ones were, and they were seasoned well; I didn't have to add salt or pepper. Kiwis serve scrambled eggs heaped on toast, which of course I didn't eat, wheat allergy and everything. These eggs also came with a pesto-like sauce, though it wasn't as heavy as pesto; I would never have thought to serve eggs with something like this, but it was quite compimentary. I also had a flat white, which wasn't bad, although it was my second cup of coffee today (all for the sake of experience--I'm always looking for a good cup, and how can you tell unless you try? It's my last day here, after all; you never know when you might luck out). I usually have two cups of coffee a week--I'll probably explode or something later on... Regardless, I'll be very glad indeed to be able to get an americano from Meridian when I return. NZ coffee, as I have said, has a strange... heaviness, I think.

I awoke at seven this morning and got all my stuff together. The entire time I've been here, I have had a terribly fear or losing things, of something rolling beneath the bed or slipping out of my pocket. It's not as though I have anything really irreplaceable, but some part of really doesn't want to lose something from home in a foreign land... Strange, really. I met Laura La Cerva for coffee at nine (at a place called the Atomic--okay coffee) and then we walked around for a bit. We went into a fair trade store (another one) and a second-hand shop; I got a few neat things. There are lots of cute little shops on this road, as I mentioned. Expensive, though, most of them.

I catch a shuttle to the airport in 45 minutes. How strange, again. It's lovely and warm today, almost hot, and I'm sure it will be quite cold at home... I asked my mother to bring me a coat when she came for me at the airport. I don't mind the cold, though; I'm ready for it.

Strange Things and Spectacular Ones

2006-12-10T18:23:00.000+13:00

The Craters of the Moon, as they are called, is an area outside of Taupo that is very geothermally active. The landscape is pockmarked with craters ranging from the size of a basketball to the size of a house, or of several houses. Steam rises from these holes with a soft hiss, or sometimes, with a great rushing noise. In certain place it looks like a battleground in a movie, smoldering away. There is no noise save for the sound of your footsteps on the path, the whisperings of the steam, and distant bird calls. And beyond it, verdant green hills and stands of pines. It's surreal.

Not too far from there, just across the highway, there are Huka Falls, NZ's most-visited tourist attraction, apparently. The falls themselves are hard to see from a good angle from the lookout points there, but the power or the water is obvious and frightening. Here, much like at the Aratiatia Rapids, the broad Waikato os channeled into a staight, narrow chute of rock, then falls 30 feet with a great roar. It looks like it's being churned in a blender. It's quite spectacular to behold, although the best way to see it, no doubt, is by "Huka jet," a jet boat that takes you up the river right to the base of the waterfall. In the car park at the falls I saw another tiny car like the one I came across yesterday. There must be a car show or something in town, because I've seen a number of lovingly fixed-up old cars.

Once again, I had lunch at Replete--I'm quite a creature of habit, I think it goes without saying. I then took the shuttle out to the Lake Taupo Hot Springs Spa and soaked in hot thermal waters for an hour and a half. It felt very good. The spa was actually a big complex complete with a waterslide for kids, but it was relaxing nonetheless, as there weren't too many people in the hot pools. Tomorrow I head for Auckland (five hours on a bus--bleh), and then home--crazy! I shall return, though, let there be no doubt about that!

Sights to Behold (from 12/9)

2006-12-10T18:19:00.000+13:00

After yesterday's rain, today dawned still overcast and quite cool. Around 9:30 I walked to the visitor information center to catch the "Hotbus," a shuttle service that provides transportation to various attractions in the area. My first stop was the Honey Hive, a large shop and cafe devoted to the various kinds on NZ honey. Good place for Christmas gifts, I thought. I was not disappointed. They had every product made of honey imaginable, from plain old jars of the stuff to shaving cream to meads and liquors. I browsed around, tasted a few different kinds of honey, bought a few lightweight things. From there I got the shuttle to the Aratiatia Rapids. This is a particularly narrow, rocky part of the Waikato that was diverted some time ago for hydroelectric purposes. Fours times a day, however, the river is redirected through the rapids, which is quite a sight to behold. With a few shrill whistles as warning, two large floodgates are opened and water gushes down into a deep pool with a rushing noise. As the pool fills, the water makes its frantic way over rocks and into gullies, frothing white, deep blue underneath. It's quite spectacular. You can watch from a bridge over the river, or from a lookout point some way down. The only problem was that it wasn't very warm. Despite it being summer here, the air is still quite cool, especially when it's cloudy.

I had lunch at Replete again today. If the shoe fit, wear it, I thought. After that I went to the Taupo Museum and Art Gallery, a small but cute place. It's filled with bits of memorabilia from the area, as well as some older Maori artifacts. There was also a nice painting show in the gallery. Outside the museum is a large rose garden (Kiwis are fond of their roses, it seems. There was a giant rose garden outside the Rotorua museum as well), with far too many varieties to smell all at once. The sun emerged, but the air remained cool. On the way back to the hostel, I came across this tiny car, by far one of the cuter things I've seen. There's nothing in the photo to provide scale, but looking at it made me feel quite large, as though I could have picked it up and tossed it...

Welcome To Taupo (from 12/8)

2006-12-10T18:15:00.000+13:00

The view coming into Taupo is something spectacular. You top a hill, and rearing up across the steely blue waters of Lake Taupo (the largest lake in NZ) is the great, snow-covered cone of Mt. Ruapehu. It is, literally, breathtaking. I sat there, looking out the window of the bus as I came in yesterday, mouth literally hanging open; I'm sure I looked absurd. Now, Mt. Ruapehu, at about 10,000 feet, is no taller than the Sangres; it is the fact that it is so much higher than all the surrounding land that makes is seem so stunning, that and the fact that it is very clearly a volcano. (At the hostel in Paihia, I was talking to two older Englishwomen who had seen it from above on a helicopter tour. "You'll have to forgive our bad pronunciation," they said, calling it "Mt. Ruapoohoo." I can't imagine why, if you knew you were mispronouncing something, you would continue to do so.) The best part is, I can behold this excellent view right form the deck of my hostel.

This morning, I did a short kayaking trip down the Waikato River, which is the longest river in NZ. It was quite an easy paddle, as the river, at this point, was very broad and placid. It was fun, regardless; the best part was that about five minutes from the end of out trip (only about two hours in total) we stopped and were able to soak in these natural hot springs beside the river. I nestled myself in a rother mossy nook beneath a small, hot waterfall and let the water pur down on my shoulders, which have been aching terribly from hauling my backpack around, as I think I've mentioned. It felt so good. Also quite nice was the fact that it was only me and a girl from Norway on that particular trip. I've been very lucky my entire time here in terms of missing huge crowds of people.

I think I have definitely qualified myself as a foodie with this blog. At least half of my entries, I think, have has something to do with food. On that note, I had a very good, inexpensive lunch today at this cute cafe/kitchen shop called Replete. I had a very generous bowl of chicken curry, a small green salad, and a flat white (and not a bad one) all for NZ $11--about $7. Left me feeling replete indeed. At left is a photo of a hedgehog napkin holder they had on the counter, something I found to be very cute.

My morning as a Hobbit

2006-12-05T15:05:00.000+13:00

Today I splurged and did a really touristy thing: I visited the site of Hobbiton, which is about an hour from Rotorua, in a place called Matamata. Seeing as how I'm in NZ, and I'm a Lord of the Rings fan (yes, I am--it's dorky, but what can you do?), I figured there was no way I couldn't. The Rings Scenic Tours picked me up from my hostel at 8:40. With me on the van were a Korean couple and a girl from Taiwan. The driver, named Danny, I think, had a large handlebar mustache and a love for American hotrods. I told him about the lowrider capitan of the US--Espanola. He reffered to us, and everyone else he had ever driven to Hobbiton, and Hobbits. "I had a Hobbit in here the other day from Finland..." All the way there, he talked about various things, mostly LOTR related, but he also filled us in on various points of interest, geological features, etc. We were in Matamata within an hour, where we transfered to a different van, this one driven by a spry older fellow named Eric. The van itself was called Bilbo. The Hobbiton site is in the middle of a very large working sheep farm--there are apparently 25,000 sheep there at the moment. We drove through through paddock after paddock filled with the fluffy white creatures, all nibbling frantically at the grass. Eric pointed out to us where the various car parks, makeup vans, food tent, etc., had been. On any given day, there were apparently 400 people to feed on set, and that's three meals a day. The caterers must have been very efficient, and frantic. The van wound around a hill and parked beside a large rack full of umbrellas and a sign bearing various safety precautions (don't walk on top of the hobbit holes, don't step in the lake...) From there we walked up a short track to a sign that said "HOBBITON MOVIE SET." There were seventeen remaining hobbit holes, or rather, hobbit hole facades, all whitewashed. New Line had been in the process of tearing them all down, as they had promised the owners of the farm, when bad weather set in and the destruction of the sets had to be postponed for six months. During that time, however, so many people came to the farm hoping to see what remained of Hobbiton that the Alexander family, the owners of the farm, contacted New Line to ask if they could leave the site as it was and conduct tours. After two years of heckling, New Line finally agreed, just as long as the site was left as it was, no improvements were made, and no reenactments were done by the tour guides.

Eric showed us around the various sites; there were photo boards with pictures of how the place had looked during filming. It was pretty neat, really. We got to see the Party Tree and the lake ,where Bilbo celebrated his 111th birthday (apparently, it was the perfect shape of the tree and the pond right next to it that caught the film-makers' eyes as they were flying around the area in a helicopter looking for good locations. That and the fact that it's really quite isolated there; there's not a sound to be heard except fot the sheep.), as well as the various hobbit holes, including Bag End itself. You can actually enter Bag End, although there's nothing much to see in there except for the wood that's holding the place up. All the scenes indoors were shot inside a studio in Wellington. Just the same, it was nice to be able to take pictures of the lake and the Party Field out of the little round hobbit door (That's the tree and the lake behind me in the photo). In the film, a large oak tree hung above The entrance to Bag End. This tree, Eric explained, had been bought from another farm for $11,000 (Jesus!), chopped into numbered pieced, and then brought to Bag End, where it had been reassembled like a giant puzzle. 25,000 artificial oak leaves had been brought in from Taiwan ("Me too!" said the Taiwanese girl at this point) and taped to the branches. The tree itself was probably onscreen for a total of 30 seconds in all three films combined. You can't say these guys cut corners. The truth of the matter is that most people probably woukd not find these tours terribly interesting. The farm itself is very pretty, and ina lovely spot, but they really are for people who are more on the die-hard end of the LOTR fan spectrum; in that respect, it was really a lot of fun. It was grand for me to be able to actually walk around where they had filmed Hobbiton. So forgive me my fan-spiel; There's nothing for it, I'm afraid!

Adventures of a Zorbonaut (from 12/4)

2006-12-05T14:56:00.000+13:00

Whoever invented the Zorb was either a complete psychopath or brilliant. Or bored. Or all three, more likely. A Zorb, for those of you unacquainted with the term (as I certainly was until recently) is a giant plastic sphere, probably 12 ft in diameter, inside of which is affixed another, smaller sphere. The act of Zorbing entails hurling yourself head-first into the inner sphere, which has about five gallons of water pumped into it, and then rolling down a hill. Madness. That's what I did this morning. I must have been the second person to do it today; it was only about 9:30. Me and two English fellows were driven to the top of the hill in a white van. "Bit of a bumpy ride," said the driver, Kelley. The roa was incredibly rutted, and he was hardly going slowly; I was bouncing around so much I was afraid I would hit my head on the ceiling of the van. "Bit is something of an understatement," I managed to gasp. At the top there awaited a loading dock. "Do you you guys want to do the zigzag course or the straight one?" asked Kelley. "Which do you recommend?" asked one of the Englishmen. "Definitely the zigzag." Oh heavens, I thought. I look on in horror and bewilderment as the first English guy took his turn. What compelled me to do this? I tried to recall. (Actually, it was the fact that I did not become violently ill on my extremely bumpy boat ride in Paihia that made think I would be okay Zorbing.) My turn was up. I leapt into the Zorb, which was a bit stuffy. Plastic bubble, after all. "Alright," said Kelley. "I'm going to tap three times on the Zorb; when I do, walk that way," he pointed," and have fun." I nodded, and wondered how often people vomited in the Zorb. Whap whap whap. I started walking, got the ball rolling, as it were, and immediately lost my ballance. i slid the entire way down on my ass, saying," Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," actually not knowing which way was up, which is a very strange sensation. Of course, as soon as i got to the bottom, I immediately wanted to do it again; would have had to pay for it, though. (Pictured at left: Zorbs waiting at the top of the run)

From there I walked to the Agrodome, home of all things woolen and smelly. I watched a farm show, in which they displayed all 19 typed of sheep found in NZ, including the Merino. He was enormous, and sat there like some great buddha, seeming to sink into the innumerable layers of his own wool. Apparently they can get 50 kilograms of wool off of one those. We were able to witness the shearing of another, much smaller sheep, the milking of a cow, the feeding of baby lambs, and the antics of various sheepherding dogs. The host called volunteers onstage, generally, it seemed, for the sole purpose of poking a bit if fun at them (most of them didn't even speak English--there were huge tour groups from Japan, China, and Malaysia, I think). All in all, though, it was fairly entertaining, even if the room did smell very strongly of farm animals. Hardly surprising, seeing as how four time daily it's filled with no less than twenty of them at a time... (Pictured: The merino with man for scale)

A Saturday in Auckland

2006-12-02T18:52:00.000+13:00

Surprisingly enough, the Auckland Farmer's Market is even smaller than the Matakana one; both of them make the Santa Fe Market look absolutely enormous. Auckland's market is on the wharf, only a block from the water. It has maybe a dozen stalls. I wandered over at around 9:30 (it was only five minutes from my hotel), and got a good organic coffee, a small bag of carrots, and a "bliss ball," which consisted of carob, coconut, and various seeds. A fellow with a shaved head and a guitar sat, case open for coins, singing in that Jack Johnson-ish voice that many musicians seem to have affected. With my coffee and a copy of Organic NZ magazine, I wandered to a bench across the street, watching children frolic in a fountain not unlike one in which I once frolicked in Aspen, CO.

Somewhere I heard a brass band strike up "O Come, All Ye Faithful." Looking about, I saw that they were playing across the street in a near-empty parking lot; they were complete with a balding conductor and matching uniforms. I moved closer in order to take a good photo of them. Halfway through their third song, as if on a cue from the conductor, a wave of motorcycles began to flow into the parking lot. Men and women in leather boots and windproof jackets alighted from their bikes, each bearing a stuffed animal or board game. It was a Toys for Tots rally (although it probably isn't called that here in NZ). The motorcycles kept coming, everything from hog to dirtbikes, from scooters to tricycles. Santa pulled up on a giant trike, an "armchair on wheels," wearing a cheap satin suit but with a real beard and paunch. The brass band launched into a rendition of "Jingle Bells," and I heard two children nearby singing, "Jingle bell, jingle bells, Christmas in New Zealand on a sunny summer's day..." Bikers wandered back from the Farmer's Market, carrying cups of coffee and bags of organic salami.

From there I wandered into an upscale kitchen shop adjacent to the Market. Think $27 lime-green spatulas and $40 mugs emblazoned with Klimt's "The Kiss." Christmas songs by pop idols (Christina Aguilera and someone who I'm quite sure was Stevie Nicks) played at a pleasant volume over the stereo. "Someday," I thought, "I will have enough money to furnish my home with such stylishly expensive things... and I probably won't." I've got bargain shopping in my blood.

This afternoon, a string quartet was playing at the Auckland Art Gallery. I explored the gallery before lunch (lots of neat things), and afterwards returned to hear the music. Blackbird Strings, as they were called, was comprised of three young women, none of them over thirty, by the looks of it. They were all clad simply in black and played beautifully, two violins and a cello. People drifted in and out of the gallery to listen. A few stayed for the entire performance. A man who looked to be of Samoan origin watched for a time with what I could only identify as suspicion; I saw him smiling later as he listened. We were in a room full of centuries-old European paintings, walls painted a pale green, with high ceilings and a balcony from the second floor. The trio sat beneath the placid gaze of St. Anne (Italy, 1682). It was all quite lovely.

Pissing Rain In Paihia...

2006-12-01T18:11:00.000+13:00

From 11/30:
I arrived in Paihia yesterday around midday, having already made reservations at the Peppertree Lodge. The day was overcast but not unpleasant. Having no real plans for the afternoon, I took the recommendation of the Hostel manager and decided to take a bike up to the Waitangi Treaty Grounds, about 1.5 miles from my hostel. These treaty grounds are known as the "Birthplace of the Nation," because it was there that a treaty was signed, in 1840, establishing a good relationship between the Maoris and the European settlers. The Tour kicks off with a typically mind-numbing historical film, outlining the events leading up to the signing of the treaty. After sitting through that, I wandered down to the Maori war canoe (pictured at left), an impressive 100-foot-long thing that apparently takes at least 75 people to navigate safely. From there I walked to the Treaty House, built by one of the important European men who signed the treaty. It was decked out in 18402-style artifacts, down to creepy-looking manequins in period dress and a fake pig, bound at the ankles and thrown over a basketful of potatoes. In addition to these things, there is also a Maori-style meeting house, which bears the name of no tribe, because, apparently, "it belongs to all of us."

Today I had booked a boat tour of the Bay, hoping to see dolphins and the Hole in the Rock. I woke up to pouring rain; the ocean, yesterday jewel-blue and placid, had been transformed to a angrily churning grey-green. As the weather was absolutely foul, we were unable to see the latter, as there were gale-force winds out there. We did, however, get too see many of the little islands in the bay. There are a total 144 of then, ranging from 50 acres to the size of my living room. It was a fairly interesting tour nonetheless, and it was nice that there were only a dozen people on it; they can be quite crowded, I'm sure, under better circumstances. It was nice to get to see dolphins, as well, despite having to be violently rocked in a boat for hours to do so...

Yesterday, I had a very good, and very pretty, cup of coffee at Cafe Zest while I was still in Kerkeri. I felt the need to share this because, a) the presentation was so nice, and, b) it was the first cup of good coffee I have had here in NZ. This is quite strange, as in my Lonely Planet guide, it says that NZ has very good coffee. I had had perhaps four other cups of coffee, and they had all had a strange underlying bitterness that I couldn't really identify. It wasn't the bitterness one usually finds in coffee; my only thought was that perhaps the roasting process was different here. Regardless, this one, which was also organic, was very good, quite satisfying.

Today I took a bus into Auckland, where I will be for two nights before continuing on to Rotorua and Taupo.

Fairly Quaint Kerikeri

2006-11-28T10:43:00.000+13:00

Kerikeri is a small town on the Bay of Islands, a cute place with a lot of cafes and quite a bit of historical significance. Yesterday I went to the Stone Store and Kemp House, two of the oldest buildings in NZ (pictured at left, with St. John's Church in the background, another historic building. They happen to have been built in such a way that you can squeeze them all into a single frame if you're standing across the river, very convenient for tourists). Think circa 1830, not really very old by most standards, but one must keep in mind that New Zealand itself os quite a young country. The actual landmass is only 10,000 years old, and the Maoris have only been here since around 1200. Europeans did not begin to arrive until the late 1700s. When they did get here, they settled the Northlad first.

The Stone Store and Kemp House are, in the manner of Rancho de las Golondrina, completely outfitted with authentic furniture from the early nineteenth century. In the case of Kemp House, much of it is the actual original furniture, as the house was passed down through the family until the 1970s. The women working there are also dressed in period costumes and are perfectly friendly and willing to chirp out lots of interestion information. You have to take you shoes off to enter the buildings.

From there, I hiked up to the Rainbow Falls, about 2 miles each way through dark, jungley forest. I had just started off when I heard a rustling off to my left. I looked about, half expecting to see a dinosaur (it was a forest very much reminiscent of those in Jurassic Park), but instead I saw a mother hen and four or five tiny, fuzzy chicks making their way through the trees.

The falls themselves are quite impressive. You hear them before you see them, then round a corner to see water gushing down nearly 90 feet into a large pool. Apparently, the spray often creates a rainbow, but as it was cloudy, I didn't get to see one. They were quite lovely nonetheless. The sun finally came out as I was making my way back, sending strange enigmatic shafts of light down through dense canopy. I was reminded of science lessons about the various layers of a forest... Unfotunately, about a third of the way down the trail, you come across a great swath of land that has been cleared so that they can build a bypass. It's rather startling, emerging from the forest to find large mounds of upturned earth and beeping construction machinery. Apparently, thery are building another bridge so that the one across from the Stone Store can be demolished. Debris from a storm caught up in that bridge and caused flooding, nearly flooding the Store itself. This is rubbish, siad the Hostel manager, as all that really needs to be done is to keep the river cleaner... Aside from that, though, the hike was lovely. I was quite tired by the time I completed it and walked back to the hostel.

Farmer's Market and Farewell

2006-11-27T10:42:00.000+13:00

We went to the Matakana Farmer's Market on Saturday, which meant staying up til midnight packing salad bags (very pretty one with edible flowers) then getting up at six, breaking our fast on cold cereal, and departing the house with a surprisingly small amount of chaos. Matakana is about 30 minutes east of Waybyond, a small town that is rapidly becoming gentrified. It is surrounded by vineyards, straight lines of small, neat vines streching over the hillsides, boasting names like "Matakana Estates" and "Ascension." The Market itself is a small, organized affair, consisting of maybe two dozen stalls. When we got there at eight, nothing much was going on, so the other wwoofers and I walked to the river, where we sat in the sun for a while. Then Steffi and I wandered up the main street, where we stopped to have coffee at a trendy cafe called the Black Dog.

By 10 the market was quite crowded. I wandered around the stalls, sampling juices, cheese, olive oil, and various other things. I then settled myself by the water (the market is right on a small, placid stream) to read. There were ducks swimming, and a German Shepherd providing many small children with a great deal of entertainment by jumping in the water to fetch a stick. Each time he emerged, he would shake himself exuberantly, showering everyone within range.

I had a very good organic blueberry sorbet, and bought a few little gifts.I planned to make dinner, so we bought tomatoes, peppers, and cilantro to make salsa.

Saturday evening I made a very good New Mexican-syle dinner: quesadillas, corn tortillas, refried beans, rice, and a vat of salsa (which we actually consumed in it's entirety) with the things I had bought. I also pulled out the chile powder so that those of us who wished to could spice thing up a bit. With this we had a green salad with lettuce and radish pods from the garden. Here we all are enjoying it, from left, Jordan, Greg, Jeni, and Steffi. After dinner, we had another beautiful dessert, and then played Zilch, a terribly addictive dice game to which Greg introduced me.

Sunday mornig I was up early to catch the 9:30 bus to Kerikeri, where I am now, but more on that later!

The Big Cheese--An Explosively Good Story

2006-11-27T10:22:00.000+13:00

(From 11/23) As Jeni has a milk cow, she often makes cheese, as she was doing during dinner tonight. She was at the stove, doing something with a the double boiler she had put together, one pot sitting on top of another filled with water. As we were working on our quiche, talking about wild berries in North America, we heard her say, "Ooh. Oohooh ooh. Ooh, " in a small, high-pitched voice. I fugured it was just Jeni being a bit strange, and we continued our conversation.

"Oooh," she said again. "I've stuck to pots together. Permanently." She had poured the cold milk into the top pan, making it shrink and slide down into the pan beneath it, where it expanded again and was stuck--welded there.

"I can't get them out," Jeni said frantically. "I've created a milk bomb!... OH, YOU STUPID COW!!" She yelled at herself. There was nothing for it, though. The pots really were stuck.

"I don't imagine it's airtight; there's no rubber seal," we rationalized. We figured the steam would find it's way out without having to blow the top pot off.

Jeni sat down to eat. "Thank god it [the meal] isn't beans. Being tense and beans--I would feel pain." She has a very sensitive stomache.

A few minutes later the pot started to shake violently. Jeni jumped up and move it off the heat, then back on. The wobbling stopped. Gwyneth came through with Willow on a leash, going out to walk her. "It's good," said Jeni. "The cheese needs to wobble."

Gwyneth returned with Willow and stood at the door, watching the stove. (The stove is right beside the door). "Look, Gwyneth!" cried Jeni, "I've made a new double boiler!"

FOOM. (And it really did go "foom." It didn't bang; it didn't pop.)

There was a shreik from Gwyneth. "Oh Fucking Hell!!" Yelled Jeni. "You said it would happen and it fucking well happened! Oh hell!" The thing really had exploded. The top pot had flown off, splashing milk literally from floor to ceiling. Luckily no one was scalded, despite the fact that both Jeni and Gwyneth were standing right next to the stove.

"I knew when it stopped wobbling," cried Jeni. "Why didn't I take it off?"

"When I walked in the door, I looked ot the stove and I knew something wasn't quite right. I knew something was going to happen, but I didn't know what," said Gwyneth. "My pulse didn't even change."

"I had expected it to be louder," I said.

Sorry it's been so long...

2006-11-27T10:08:00.000+13:00

There wasn't a good internet connection at Waybyond, so I haven't really been able to get online for the past week. So, I shall kind of go back in time a bit: This is from 11/21:

Waybyond is most certainly "rustic," as it is described on the Wwoof website. The house itself was built in the 1920s, and as Greg said, is in various states of disarray and disrepair. It's very cluttered, and boxes and piles of things abound. There are cobwebs everywhere, which I want desperately to vacuum. The backyard is an overgrown orchard filled with vines and trees and old roses. There are four orchards, a good-sized veggie garden, chickens, ducks (slug control), a milk cow, and two horses. Despite the place's chaotic atmosphere, it has a certain charm to it.

Jeni and Greg seem quite nice. They are both artists. We spent dinner talking about the Southwest and New Mexico. There are two other wwoofers, Steffi, and German girl, with whom I share a bedroom, and Jordan, a fellow from Canada. Gwyneth (picturedat left), Jeni's 90-year-old aunt, also lives here, along with her smelly but cute Shi Tzu, Willow. She's the sort of woman that I'm sure is just full of so many interesting stories. She is originally from England. Like Aunt Mela, Gwyneth is quite independent and lucid. She is small but doesn't really seem frail. She braids her white hair into two plaits that come down over her shoulders. Her outfits are always colorful. ("Color," she says,"is an important part of my life." She chooses a different color to wear each day; she says it helps to keep her mind sharp.) This morning found her sitting on the porch, a book open on her lap, Willow curled up at her feet. She was arrayed in various shades of green, complete with a staw hat with a green ribbon tied around it and the tags still on (a very old-lady-ish thing to do, I think).

Pictured here is a dessert we had, which consisted of vanilla ice cream, mango, fresh strawberries from the garden, and melted dark chocolate. Greg made a point of making all the bowls quite pretty. Before we ate them, we had to lift up the hardened chocolate and look for shapes in it. A family tradition, apparently. I saw a cow and a fish head in mine... This followed up a dinner that Jordan had made, which consisted of dal (Indian lentil soup), an Indian-style sirfry with yogurt, and rice. Quite good. For some reason, the picture is sideways, gaddammit, but bear with me here...

On the "Hob"...

2006-11-18T16:45:00.000+13:00

...As they call a stovetop here in NZ. I've still been cooking a lot: I made borscht for lunch, which came out quite good. I had never made it before, but it wasn't too difficult--it just required a good deal of boiling. Two nights ago, Whitney, the other American, and I, made sweet-potato quesadillas. I made the tortillas, and she made a filling which consisted of sweet potatoes, onions, garlic, and various herbs and spices. I had never thought to put sweet potatoes in a quesadilla before, but it was quite good. Last night, we put together a curry-tofu stirfry; I rolled out the remaining tortillas, and made a carrot salad. We all like to cook, so there's no shortage of good things to eat. For tonight, we're making pesto (we found some wheat-free pasta).

A few evenings ago, the other three wwoofers and I went for another hike at Mahurangi regional park again. We walked down to Mita Bay, which you can only reach by foot or by boat. It was quite beautiful, as you can se, although it was a VERY steep hike back up...

I'll be leaving here Monday evening and going to a farm about 30 minutes north of here called Waybyond, It sounds like more of an actual farm. They're certified organic, which is very cool. And the people there apparently have spent some time in New Mexico!

Yum yum yum

2006-11-13T20:52:00.000+13:00

Pictured is a GIANT beet from the garden, with quarter for scale... I've been eating quite well here, and I've done a good deal of cooking and baking as well, which is great. I made a carrot cake a few days ago, and a few loaves of spelt bread, both of which came out quite well. It's great because Wendy says she doesn't even like to use wheat flour much, so she's got spelt flour, rice flour, rye flour... Last night I made dinner, which consisted of a veggie stirfry with broccoli, fresh cabbage from the garden, carrots, zucchini (called corgette here), onion and garlic, and various herbs and spices; quinoa flavored with cardamom; and for us meat eaters (the German girls are vegetarians) I marinated some strips of beef in a mixture of olive oil, agave nectar, red chile, and some dried herbs, and cooked it up quickly. It came out nice and tender. All together they were very tasty. "Spot on," said Wendy.

Today I made dinner again. I put together a sweet potato casserole based on a lasagna recipe, layering the sweet potatos with tomato sauce, cottage cheese (which I had bever used in lasagna before, but which I suppose is pretty standard in these parts), and the leftover quinoa. I topped it off with a sort of bechamel sauce. It was quite tasty; Johanna, the younger sister, told me I would make a good mom someday. For dessert we had apple-blueberry-walnut muffins that I had baked this afternoon. I'll bake more bread soon, and perhaps some cookies...

Plugging along

2006-11-12T15:50:00.000+13:00

Here I am with Marlene, Johanna, Simon, and Nadxilla. Marlena and Joanna are sisters from Germany, and will be Wwoofeing here as well. Simon, another German, and his Mexican girlfriend Nadxilla, gave them a ride here (Simon was a wwoofer here about a month ago. Yesterday we planted and mulched that bed there, as well as various other things. In the background you can see Bella, the giant housecat...

Yesterday afternoon, Wendy drove the two sisters and I to the regional park down the road, where we did an hour-long hike. Part of it was up and down green, grassy hills; part was through dense, psuedo-jungle-like trees. It was right on the ocean, which is very beautiful. Here I am with the crazy-looking trunk of this giant tree. It must be very old. It was a lovely walk, a bit breezy, but fairly sunny and pleasant--not too humid.

The ocean really is as blue as it looks in all the guidebooks. The path we took began and ended at this very lovely, small beach. As it was a Saturday, there were quite a few families picnicking. There was also, of course, a busload of Japanese tourists.

Today we went to a small farmer's market in Orewa, about 15 minutes from here, and then to Puhoi, another small village nearby, where there is a cheese factory. As I've already done five day's work here, I get today off, which is quite humane.

I have arrived!

2006-11-08T17:16:00.000+13:00

Hello from New Zealand, everyone! I arrived here yesterday morning after a pretty good flight--I actually slept for 6 hours on the plane, which I think is pretty incredible. I got through customs pretty quickly, then got a bus to the city center, and from there got a bus to Warkworth, where I am now. I'm at a farm called Tranquil Heights, as I've said, but it's not really a farm at all. They've got something like 40 acres, most of which serves as pasture for their 16 cows; in addition to the cows, there are goats, which I think is terribly exciting, and a giant, sweet cat named Bella. They also have a large veggie (which New Zealanders spell 'vege') garden, but their main focus is landscaping the land around the house, which they are working to turn into a B&B. The terrain in very hilly, and from the house, which is perched at the top of one of those hills, you can actually see an inlet of the Pacific, and off in the distance the line of the Ocean. It is quite beautiful.

Luckily, I haven't really been jat-lagged at all. Yesterday, I spent a few hours pulling weeds and spreading compost, half the time wearing gumboots, which are not terribly comfortable. I ended up switching to my Crocs. I slept nine solid hours last night; todays, as it has been quite windy and rainy, I have been helping with housework, vacuuming, mopping, dusting. I also spent a good deal of time peeling silicone grout from the kitchen tiles. It has to be redone because apparently it hadn't been functioning...

It was quite ecxiting for me to encounter, first thing in Auckland, a real, live, in-the-flesh RUBBISH BIN. Granted, rubbish bins are neither alive nor fleshy, but it was nonetheless a very reaffirming sight. The people in the cafe where I found this rubbish bin must have thought I was utterly mad to be taking pictures of a trash can, but then, they probably see tourists doing strange things all the time...

Well, until next time, then!

So it begins...

2006-11-03T18:42:00.000+13:00

As I am leaving for NZ on Suday, I figured it was really time to get this whole blog thing figured out... So, here I am! I'm still racing about rather madly trying to get things in order. I haven't really begun packing yet... I did, however, finally figure out where I will first be staying. My first farm (pictured here) will be in Warkworth, which is about an hour north of Auckland. It's called Tranquil Heights. Sounds rather idyllic, doesn't it? I'll be there for a week, after which I'm not yet sure where I will be... So, I'm facing a long weekend of running errands and packing, but what with my mild franticness, I haven't really had time to be aprehensive or prematurely homesick yet, which is good. It's a bit late, though, so I'm off to bed... Must be well-rested for travel (and travel preparations)!