"The exposed pubic hair of lady of intoxicating fragrance.."

This simple life has not only humbled me, but made me that much more appreciative of the sounds and sights of everyday life that commonly go overlooked because we are so focused on the next song to play on our ipod or not getting hit by a car as we cross the crowded streets of suburbia.
The other day we got a chance to explore our 'backyard' a bit by setting out on a hike to Mt. Tararu. Trekking there was like walking through an undiscovered, strange moss-covered rainforest with so much vegetation overgrowth that walking in any sort of logical upward path was damn near impossible. Vines covered the forest floors making each step a calculated chess move as one maneuvered their way through this untouched land of magestic beauty.
It's funny to think that right behind our volunteer cottage lies a world of history, where many miners dwelled, toiling away at the land in hopes of making it rich, but now the old growth forest has shrouded any last lurking remnants of these pioneers in moss and mystery. The view at the top of the mountain gave a clear overlook of the sea, table mountain, the pinnacles and some other unidentified mountains in the distance, but it was really the calming sounds of nature in it's most pristine state that struck a cord with me. Between the squish of mud under our hiking boots, the faint and at times jarring buzz of tropical insects or the rustle of a bush or twigs breaking conjuring up images of some wild boar or goat just around the bend that left an imprint on my mind.
The last couple of days I have spent a fair amount of time whippersnippering away at the weeds and plants that threaten to take over the mile long driveway up to the cottage. Who would have thought a metal rod with a shard blade whizzing around at top speeds could bring so much satisfaction. When I'm in the "zone" as I like to call it, whippersnippering away I feel like nothing can get in my way as I once again assume my role as 'thistlebuster" not to be confused with the popular movie series "ghostbusters' although I must admit that I too have a theme song "vaguely" resembling the one in the movie.
Most of my project work recently has been spent with Rachel, my roommate and fellow Jewish American. Now, I'm trying to think of a nice way to describe Rachel...she is not only the most optimistic person I have ever met, but she is a wide eyed and grinning 6 year old trapped in a 19yr old body. Rachel is the type of girl who would not only volunteer to shovel goose poop, but would be happily humming along to disney theme songs in the process. Point in case, the other day while working she decided we should play a game where we weave a children's story out of three different words suggested to us by the other person. Rachel's choice of words were bumble bee, light switch and princess...mine were shit, ass and crap...for some strange reason I don't think we are thinking on the same wavelength. It's funny though the more I talked to Rachel the more I realized thank god I'm not a Pollyanna. She told me how for the first 16 years of her life she thought she didn't have emotions and that if her own mom and dad died she didn't know if she would even cry. So, I ask myself what's better, a life of numbed contentment or a life full of real vivid color evoking passion, fury, anger, hurt, sadness, joy--emotions in their rawest and truest form? No contest, I'd relive my teenage angst all over again any day.
So, I got my first real taste of Thames nightlife on Monday and Tuesday--we're talking badmitton and yoga with the locals. Owen, Rachel and myself opted to checkout the free weekly badmitton practices at the high school only to discover we were way out of our league. Dressed in some running pants and a t-shirt I felt ready to relive my high school gym class glory days as queen of the shuttlecock, but alas I was in for a shocker. Our 'competition' was in the 50-70yr old age range and fully equipped in the latest badmitton protective gear--we're talking elbow and knee pads as well as protective eyewear and personally monogrammed badmitton racquet cases...I had a scrunchy...the game was on. Rosie, my partner in the first round of matches had glasses that were thicker than they were wide, a lazy eye and a serve that would give Andy Roddick a run for his money and I, well I had the scrunchy don't forget...needless to say we were massacred, but not before I got a chance to whiff the shuttlecock so many times that I had to actually feign a deadly attack of mosquitoes as to not look like a complete fool.
On Tuesday night a few of us made our way down to the local high school yet again, but this time for a rousing session of yoga. I didn't have a yoga mat so I brought my sleeping mat--somehow the 4 inch wide thickness and ridges didn't seem to scream novice or anything. Between the sexual moans of older women trying to get into positions that their bodies had long given up on getting into and the release of the body's natural gases...I was hooked.
Today is a free day which will be spent planning my adventures in the South Island seeing as I have gotten the greenlight from Dagmar and Jon to take the whole month of April if need be and explore the South. Tomorrow we will be off to the Coromandel Penninsula to have a leisurely day on the beach at Cathedral Cove. Till next time...
P.S. I am officially hooked to the English cult classic television show "Black Adder"