Jenny's Trek Down Under

I am leaving my program 3 months early seeing as how things have kind of fallen apart...long story short and will be spending the next 3 months galavanting around the north and south island, staying at hostels and doing the whole touristy thing...followed by a 5 week stint in australia...so when i can get into town next i will update more. but on a side note had an exciting trip to tongariro national park last week...spent a week backpacking up the tallest mountains in the north island that were also used in the film lord of the rings...but will tell more about that later....hope all is well with everyone love and miss you all!

Well, I awoke thursday morning in high spirits excited to escape the humdrum life of the valley and see more that this country has to offer. Jen, Pippa and myself were off on a two day trip to Rotorua sans Jon or Dagmar--so this would be our first real roadtrip without the parentals and we couldn't have been any more excited. Before hitting the roads we made a quick stop at Pak n' save (the local grocery market chain) to load up on food for the trip...but no joke I am in love with this place not only is it ridiculously cheap, but sales tax is already included in everything in this damn country...so when something is 9.99 it is just in fact 9.99 okay I lied again...there are no 1 cent or 5 cent pieces so in reality it's $10NZ...but still. I also stopped at Warehouse, NZ's version of walmart and got a new watch seeing as how my luxurious name brand Pearl Jardin airport watch somehow broke.
We made a stop along the way in Mattamatta aka land of the hobbits where of course we took the obligatory tourist picture next to a makeshift replica of a hobbit home from Lord of The Rings. That evening we stayed at the Spa Lodge, my first real hostelling experience to date and so far I must admit the standards have been set pretty high. Between the overly friendly asian host who made us feel right at home and our own private three bedroom room I was ready to unload our gear and explore this supposed las vegas of new zealand town.
On our self guided three hour tour of Rotorua we strolled around the lake, went to Kairoa Park, saw the oldest Marae church (150 years) , went to the Government botanical gardens and finished off with a bit of individual time spent exploring the downtown--which for me meant getting lost, spending a good 20 minutes trying to get this nice Indian man to give me directions to amhaust street which I managed to severely butcher in pronunciation and then a good hour was spent at some clothing store called supree probably meant for 13/14 year old girls yet I had an enjoyable time trying on god awful outfits that screamed preteen and lindsay lohan wannabe--so all and all it was a most fulfilling afternoon.
Anyways, back to the walk around the lake--it was seriously like travelling through prehistoric times with water bubbling its way through sulphuric rock creating steam that hovered over the water and every now and then got swept away in a gentle summer breeze that left the top of the water dancing in ripple formations under the wind. The ever present smell of rotten eggs wafting in the air was present as were an abundance of black ducks with their heads tucked in underneath their bodies, floating in circles, seagulls scattered across the bits of beachy shore, eerily flattened beds of grass and black swans that resembled dinosaurs with red beaks that navigated their way through the sulphur infested waters in groups. These swans were just unreal with necks twice the length of your typical swan that moved in this awkward motion that can only be described as reminiscent of an inchworm, all the while these black beautiful creatures let out ungodly squaking noises that conjured up images of a trumpet being played out of tune. If you squinted your eyes just right you could have sworn that you were looking at a bunch of lochness monsters. Between the shore and where the swans were swimming in the water were seaweed deposits that were pretty thick clouding up the otherwise grayish waters.
That evening Pippa and I headed out to explore the nightlife and what a 'rocking' nightlife it was...we started the night out at a pub called hennesy's which was a quaint irish bar with a couple of geisers strumming away on some banjos belting out some faintly reminiscent version of 'oh danny boy' all the while there were middle aged folks laughing up a storm on one side and young 20 somethings trying to get laid on the other side of the bar...and yet Pippa and I decided to sit right in the middle of the bar--metaphorically bridging the gap between old and young, but more because we were utterly amused by the coasters the table had that had these highly amusing cartoons on them. from there we headed to a more sophsticated bar which was full of the early 30s lawyer types who were trying to scheme on underage girls and a rather enjoyable band singing 80s covers that I annoyingly sang aloud to each and everyone as Pippa the young'n that she is just smiled and nodded. Finally the night was capped off by a trip to the dirty mole, a bar which felt like it housed all the kids who were picked last for dodgeball as well as all the overly tattooed locals.
On the drive home from rotorua all I could think about was how I can't explain exactly what it is about NZ whether its the people, the landscape, the lack of congestion of everyday life, the laidback lifestyle or just how different it is than anything I know that really resonates with me. Cows that look like little figurines strategically placed atop rolling hills, narrowing roads lined with trees with branches cascading over the road blocking out the light except for the occasional ray of sunshine that manages to penetrate its way through the branched forest canopy.

Six weeks in and I'm just now finally unpacking. Prior to this week, I had mostly been living out of my backpack and using my closet and dresser as more of decorative pieces rather than allowing them to serve any real functional purpose. Something about moving into a room with barnyard animal curtains, a faded striped towel being used as a rug and a poster on the wall of the earth didn't exactly scream home sweet home to me. But alas, I finally made myself not only unpack, but put things in their places, organize my stuff and really settle in. For whatever reason these last 6 weeks I have been reluctant to fully unpack and make my room my own...maybe it was because I wasn't ready to fully own the direction my life was taking--okay enough psycho-babble...because let's be honest, I'm lazy and unpacking well is just not all that fun. Anyways, you'll be happy to note my room is painfully...I might go as far as say overly anally organized at the moment with even my damn q-tips having their proper place beside my toothbrush...seeing as how "t" follows "q" in the alphabet...okay, I'm not that bad...alright I lied I did spend a good hour the other day alphabeticalizing a 6 shelf spice cabinet.
Now quite a few people have asked me to describe the volunteer cottage. Well, let's just say I'm lucky enough to live in my very own salvation army/goodwill warehouse with couches in every shade and offbeat dated floral pattern, lazyboy chairs in turd colored brown that creak so violently when you shift in your seat and with cushions that have worn so badly that they could easily be mistaken for medieval torture devices seeing as how pieces of metal jut out from them. Oh and I musn't forget to describe the bookshelves loaded full of boardgames that have long been out of print and random electronics and books that you could've sworn only were publicized on late night infomercials--in other words Bethesda million dollar homes have nothing on this Chateau.
And finally little ol' Thames, the nearest town to the valley which has definitely grown to hold a special place in my heart these past few weeks. Walking down the streets of the city centre you feel like you are walking straight into an old western town with one dimensional storefronts that look like old movie sets and streets lined with stores like the christian bookshop, feed the children (who knew the infamous Larry Jones took shop up in my little town I call home) organic co-ops and the random gentlemans club and masonic stonecutters secret meeting houses. In other words I fit right at home here...more to come later.

This past week has been all about transition in the valley--after losing Owen, Rachel and Mike we were down to 3 volunteers, an overabundance of estrogen and that uneasy feeling that starts in your stomach, gets caught in your throat, silences your voice and leaves your jaw in a constant state of tenseness--as the anxiety and fear as to how things will change in valley life rears its ugly head. Saturday morning began with Dagmar informing us that she would be leaving at the end of March seeing as how she was pregnant. As my jaw dropped to the floor and the words of congratulations started to form at my lips...I picked up on the unnerving feeling that maybe those words weren't appropriate for the occasion and that letting her finish with what she had to say might prove to be the better idea. Although my curiousity did happen to get the best of me as I construed elaborate paternity stories in my head that it was in fact Jon's baby and that's why Mike abruptly left the valley or that maybe she had eyes for my Kevin and Paul...who knows.
It has been pretty evident from day one here that the future of the valley is anything but secure. It's funny sometimes I find myself walking through the orchards or old volunteer cottage at the base of the valley and can see at one time what life, excitement and energy this place used to exude, but now between the lack of volunteers and the uncomfortable tension between past lovers/co-owners Jon and Dagmar has slowly been drained.
Jon, the other founder of the valley program has been on hiatus ever since I arrived taking off on spiritual/emotional journeys every week or so to regroup and refocus his energy with regards to what direction he wants to take with his life and the valley. This would be the first time in 7 years that Jon has gotten away from the valley. So between an MIA Jon and a pregnant Dagmar the future of the valley seemed very much up in the air.
What further fueled my anxiety was the fact that I have yet to get a clear idea as to how many volunteers will be coming in may when I return from my travels. Because in early April Pippa will be leaving and Jen the other volunteer will most likely be departing at the end of april...so the idea of being here by myself with just Jon the 7 ft bearded man that pines after 21 year olds didn't really get me excited to say the least. Although rumor has it that 3 blokes will be arriving in early may.
On top of all that valley tension has been on the up and up with living and working in such close quarters with 3 other women starting to take its toll. Dagmar (whose emotions are already on hormonal overload between the pregnancy and her confusion about whether to stay in New Zealand or go back to Germany) and Pippa have been having daily spats and just sapping the energy right out of me. There is only so much third party mediation I can do. With loyalties to both I found myself sparking up exciting talks about the weather and weeds--basically any neutral topic I could think of as not to unleash the claws of either party involved.
But alas, yesterday afternoon things just got to their boiling point for me and although we had all been scheduled to go on a hike that afternoon everyone opted out except for me and Dagmar. The hike began really awkward and uncomfortable because I have been on guard ever since all the tension came up between her and pippa-- anyways midway through the hike i found myself just getting more and more emotional to the point where I just felt like I was going to breakdown so I encouraged her to finish the hike while I waited for her...long story short we ended up having a really deep talk about everything-- after that talk i found my spirits lifted and it was really just what i needed. i didn't realize just how disconnected i was from everything till after we talked...it was really refreshing and just what the doctor ordered for my soul.
So, although where these next couple of months will take me in my travels I can't say for sure, I can rest a little easier at night knowing that I have spoken my peace and that in the short term I have my exciting trip to the South Island to look forward to. Don't let this blog confuse you I am definitely enjoying myself, it's just this past week where all this stress arose.
Anyways this next week we will be heading to Rotorua for a day or two and later in the week will drive all along the north tip of the north island and hit up bay of islands and all the places along the way for a week long trip--involving plenty of beaching, some trekking, maybe horsebackriding and some dune surfing.

After a week in the valley spent weeding, fixing the chicken run, taking down fences, cutting firewood, releasing trees and watering the tree nursery I was ready for a free day and our next trip. Instead of going into town like we typically do we opted to have a leisurely day full of vegging on the couch, playing scrabble (which mom will be happy to know I trounced my opponent 307 to 182,) some cranium and a round of movies I fell asleep during. Honestly, it might just be me, but the movie choices of these people are god awful...everything from 'the cubed' to 'serenity' to 'water' have all left me bored, asleep and wondering how can anyone really like science fiction. Although I shouldn't be quick to judge considering everyone has found my reading selections to be quite 'unique' to say the least. While most people can be found reading classics like '1984,' 'lord of the rings,' the 'graduate' etc. I have chosen a more specific genre called people who are disfigured, raped, abused, etc. and how they overcome all odds and live happy lives...oh and Bill Cosby's "Love and Marriage" which for some reason didn't win the pulitzer despite his laugh out loud commentary on love and you guessed it marriage. So, basically any chance of me becoming well versed in the literary classics is a lost cause.
Last Thursday we headed out to Rangitoto, a volcanic island that is the most recent and largest volcano of the 48 in the Auckland Volcanic field. The volcano is believed to have last erupted some 600 years ago and now the island remains covered in molten lava rock and sparse vegetation. We were lucky enough to spend the night on the island seeing as how only people with access to baches can stay overnight on the island. Baches are little huts/shacks that were erected in the 1930s with few if any basic ammenities. The last 10 years or so has seen many of the baches torn down in an effort by the Department of Conservation to preserve the land in its natural state...so basically only baches with living relatives of the original owners of the huts can still be used. This trip would also signify our last overnight before both Rachel and Owen departed from the group.
On the island we hiked to the summit of the volcano, but not before stopping at some amazing lava caves along the way. It would have been very easy to walk right past the caves seeing as how they so easily blended in with the other mounds of lava rock. With torches at hand we went about exploring the caves, crouching at times almost stomach to ground--crawling with the path ahead covered in rocks, pitch black exceet for the faint outline of the torch ahead. At some points the caves were tall enough to stand with stalagmite rock formations hanging from the ceilings. Crawling through the caves I felt like Indiana Jones on an exploration of the unknown in a maze of darkness and the echoes of rock crumbling underneath our flipflops and cobwebs illuminated in the light of our torches. At the summit there were breathtaking 360 degree views of all the surrounding islands--tiritiri included, the Auckland cityscape and if you squinted you could see the vague ouline of the whole coromandel peninsula, but what really made the hike memorable was being atop the summit at sunset with good friends.
The evening ended with us all sitting around a fire making twists (flour, water, jam concoctions...although mine looked more like burnt embers) and recounting traumatic childhood experiences and any poem we could remember...I like to think my beautifully delivered rendition of shel silverstein's 'sister for sale' really sealed the moment for all those involved.
Inside the bach there was a guest book where people had commented on their stays...which proved rather amusing if you were of the right frame of mind...between tales of 'george the dead, smelly, old, whaley whale,' sexual liasons and evil sticks...laughes were shared by all. The next day while everyone slept in I embarked on a trek to Wreck Bay to see shipwrecks that had amassed at the island--ranging from wwII ships, past steamers and iron hullers.
That evening we had about 4 hours to bum around Auckland. After a nice goodbye dinner we wandered over to the Lantern festival in Alfred Park in honor of the last night of the Chinese New Year. We were confronted with thousands of people predominately asians interspersed with the occasional tourist wearing a chinese bamboo hat. After a speech by the prime minister of New Zealand the festival commenced as the lights of all the different lanterns ranging from butterflies to frogs to mushrooms to spongebob squarepants lit up against the black stary night sky. It was strange walking through the hoards of people, surrounded by friends I have grown to really care about, yet all I felt was disconnected. Disconnected from myself, my surroundings and the people--maybe it was the looming goodbyes, maybe the feelings of transition in the valley to come or maybe just feeling a bit like a foreigner for the first time--whatever it was the feeling was hard to shake.