Christmas Kiwi Style

I apologize if there are numerous spelling mistakes/typos in this entry- my eyes are actually sunburnt from being out in the water for 5 hours yesterday. Who knew that could happen? And this morning, as I was stumbling around the kitchen trying to do my daily cleaning, I actually had to pour milk in my eyes (an old water polo trick) because they were literally burning like hell. You would think that I would know how to take care of myself in the sun considering It´s where I work for 10 hours a day in the summer, but I suppose the big hole in the Ozone layer above New Zealand is a bit more than I am used to.

So Merry Belated Christmas, Kiwi Style! It was quite a different kind of Christmas here in New Zealand than I am used to at home. But, there was certainly no lack of Christmas cheer at Solscape. We organized a big potluck, where everyone made a Christmas dish indicative of their home country. It was probably the most random plate of Christmas food I had ever seen; curries, and german pasta, tortillas, cole slaw, roasted vegtables, mashed kumara, prunes wrapped in bacon...but everyone ate until they could no longer move, just like Christmas at home. I introduced everyone to the term "food coma" after we helped ourselves to a 3rd plate of dessert. My friend Joann taught me that "love handles" in Catala is "Las tapas". Good think I now know how to describe my holiday weight gain in 2 languages. The day after Christmas was boxing day, which is similar to America´s Black Friday, but I think it´s just another excsue for kiwis to feast for another day and get drunk. We has another boxing day feast at a friends house, after having a brunch feast a few hours before. Feast has been the theme of this holiday season. WHich is pretty much the theme of everyone´s holiday season from back home as well. except back home, in the winter you can hide your "tapas" underneath sweat pants and hoodies and you still have 4 months to work it off before breaking out the summer wear...but here, everyone can see that feast jiggling in your ass the next day on the beach while you strut around in your bikini.

I´m really glad I decided to stay in Raglan for the holidays. I was surrounded by good people, all of us "orphans" who, for many of us, were away for the holidays for the first time ever. I will definitely admit that I missed home a lot, especially when my mom told me they were about to eat my dad´s legenedary eggs benedict when she called me, and I was washing dishes...but I knew that my family was missing me as much as I missed them. It really makes you appreciate how wonderful home is, what a good life you have, how wonderful your family is. At our Christmas dinner, we all went around talking about our respecitve Christmas Traditions, and of course, the central theme of everyone´s Christmas is family.

It´s the start of the High season now in New Zealand, and the crowds at the beach and the surf breaks have multiplied 10 fold. Meaning, there´s about 100 people in the water trying to surf the same wave. Meaning Solscape is completely booked out until after new Years. Meaning it´s going to be time for me to leave soon because it´s a little overwhelming constantly meeting new faces every day and trying to remember where they are from, their names, and their life story. I think there gets a point where you can only have the same conversation so many times until you frankly just don´t care enough anymore to bother. With so many people coming and going, it can be exhausting to try to sit and chat with everyone. ¨How long are you in Raglan for" "How long have you been in New Zealand?" "Where else have you traveled?" "What should I do in the South Island?" "Are you here to surf?" "what do you do back home?" These are the standard, sitting around the hostel dinner table questions that should just be on repeat. I reckon I will make a tee-shirt with all of the answers already provided so we can skip the intro and get into the good conversations.

Surfing...the most frustrating sport in the world

I have officially decided that I suck at surfing. No if, ands, or buts about it; i just flat out fucking suck. I was trying to convince myself that there were various other reasons for my lack of time actually riding waves compared to the amount of time I have spent tossed around by them such as; I´m not used to this short board, i can´t duck dive with the epoxy, I´m not confident on left-handers, I keep getting dropped in on, It´s too windy, it´s too crowded, it´s too big....but I think today I have finally just accepted the fact that I just flat out suck, and I will accept this fact with grace


Ok, i know I am being a little hard on myself. I know I don´t really suck THAT bad. And to be fair, I am in the water constantly here with pros and advanced surfers from all over the world, obviously just sitting on the outside watching trying not to get in the way of people and trying to shoulder steal as much as possible. But MAN, this sport is frustrating.

At Manu bay is a car park where all of the campervans park to watch the surfers at the point. There´s a pretty big audience there, especially on bigger days, lotsa photographers and bikini clad girls hoping to catch the eye of their famous local boys. Well, yesterday, I was itching to get in the water after 6 days straight of torrential rain, so I decided to try my luck and paddle out at Manu to see how I go. Whoops.

To get into the water, you have to walk over about 100 yards of big, slippery rocks, holding your board with your leash attached to your leg. So while you´re trying to navigate between not slipping on the rocks and breaking your board or your back, you also have to make sure you time it correctly so you don´t walk on the rocks when A set comes through, or else the water will rush at you angrily and knock you on your ass for the world to see. Well, i stood on shore for about a half hour, watching other guys carefully on how they were entering the water. Seemed simple enough; walk out carfeully, get stable, put board in the water, and when its deep enough, jump onto your board and paddle like hell to get out of the impact zone. So, with confidence I really should not have mustered, I walked out onto the rocks and pretended like I knew what i was doing. I think I even gave the camera that was following me (probably thinking I was some kind of good athlete) a little pose. Well. I managed to walk out to where i was about aknle deep in the water and stabilized myself on a bigger rock. But out of nowhere, a rogue wave decides to break about 2 feet in front of me, and all I could do was watch this massive mass of white water come barrelling at my face, helpless because my foot was now wedged between two rocks. It knocked me straight on my ass, then due to my board, pinned me up against the rocks, my feet in the sky and my body thrashing around like a beached whale. And to make it worse, it was the first wave of a set, so for all of Manu bay to see, I was pounded again and again against the rocks, board flying and making sounds compbrable to bones breaking, eliciting pained ¨ooohs¨ and "oooouch"es from my spectators. When the beating was finally over, I gracefully scrambled, falling about 4 more times on the way, up to the grass, every curse word in the book flying out of my mouth. And I looked up, and every single person at Manu was watching me, probably relieved that they didn´t have to come in and rescue me, and then the carpark erupted in applause. And I, with blood dripping down my arms and legs from the beating I just incurred, bowed deepy and smiled again for the camera, who now clearly realized I was no pro surfer. And then, I walked home a 30 minute trek uphill, which was enough time for me to wallow in my defeat and decide that I am now giving up surfing.

Kidding, I´m not. But perhaps I´ll think otherwise next time I decide to go out at Manu when it´s "Pumping, bro!". But damn...those left handers ARE hard.

Christmas in July

I nearly shit a brick this morning when I realize that it is December 22nd. You would never in a million years guess that it is only 3 days until Christmas. Maybe it is because of my lack of access to television and radio, but the only Christmassy things I have come across have been a few strings of lights around a light pole, and a Christmas Tree made out of shopping carts at the Pack n Save in Hamilton. So me and a few of my mates decided to take it upon ourselves to bring some Christmas cheer into Raglan.

Sporting boardshorts and a Santa hat, me and English Ben took to our instruments, him on ukulele, me on guitar, and learned 4 Christmas songs. 1. Feliz Navidad. 2. Rudolph 3. Silent Night 4. White Christmas. And after about .5 hours of practicing in the common room at Solscape, we perched ourselves down town and loudly attempted to spread the Christmas cheer to cafe patrons and passerbys. And the town loved it. We got kettle corn thrown to us from passing cars, singalongs, and a bunch of smiles. We only had four songs that were being played on repeat, and by the time a half hour went by, I think I sang rudolph upwards of 10 times, and the cafe workers may or may not have been about to throw rotten food our way, but it was a blast and really put me in the Christmas Spirit. Then, we went back to solscape and baked christmas cookies in the woodfire oven outide, as well as making paper snowflakes like we used to do in kindergarten. I'll admit that they probably looked a lot better when we were in kindergarten as well- being that I have not an artistic bone in my body, mine looked a bit like a blind person took some garden sheers and had a personal vendetta against the particular piece of paper. But the effort was there, and now we have retarded snow flakes to hang around the Station house. And copious amounts of barbeued christmas cookies that are cut out in shapes of surfboards and board shorts since we had no Cookie cutters. I was happy to share the most fattening, delicious butter cookie recipe with my mates, compliments of my dear mother. It's always one of my favorite parts of Christmas- baking with my mom. I really missed her; the cookies were delicious but definitely lacking the mom/daughter ingredient.

So it's been absolutely pissing down rain for the past week. Super windy as well. The surf is a washing machine and everything I own is damp and dirty. I have to keep reminding myself, "Ok kristi, you are in New Zealand. You're not at home in the freezing cold, you're not stuck in an office, a little rain won't hurt you." But it is boring at times. I have been a baking fiend; baking bread, coookies, home made granola...playing a shit load of cards. There's also a lot of time to think- think about my goals, my friends, my family, what I want out of this trip. A girl I met a few days ago who is staying at Solscape just ended volunteering with a woman named Ingrid Visser, who does research on the Orca populations here in New Zealand. I think I might try to see if I can work with her for a bit, because right now, my surfing certainly is not improving by playing 34 games of "shithead" in a row.

The other night, I found myself spooning on the floor with a friend who found out he just lost a best friend in a car accident back home. It breaks down barriers; this life of traveling. Barriers you put on your self, and barriers you put on connecting with others. Two weeks of knowing someone and getting drunk and singing Christmas carols with them is all of a sudden sufficient enough to cry unabashedly into their arms on a rainy Sunday night. It makes me think that people really are meant to be with partners or friends- we're constantly searching for companionship and emotional connections with others. Because it makes being out in the big world a lot less scary.

I don't know how to end this entry, so I'll just tell you that as I sit here, I'm looking out into a cloud that has settled onto the hill. I can hear the waves pounding the beach, and the rain is pattering on the rooftop. Everything is wet and green and fresh; and it is beautiful.

Rainy Days

It´s raining here in Raglan, a nice steady rain that has no foreseeable end for at least 3 days. The surf is flat, the wind is horrible, and everyone at Solscape has caught a little bit of cabin fever from playing too many card games of "shit head". And it´s days like this, when there´s not much to do, when you can really sit down and think about things.

I´ve been doing a lot of reflecting recently on this trip, I love Solscape and the people here; it really is a home away from home. I have settled into a comfortable routine here, wake up, work, go for a run, surf, eat, play cards, surf, eat, hang out, drink tea, play music, sleep. But the other day as I was running down the beach barefoot, I stopped as if I got punched in the gut. Here I was, on the other side of the world, settling into a "rountine" that felt so incredibly...well...normal. I was a bit frightened by this realization- had I really managed to find normalcy and homely comforts in a place halfway across the world? Isn´t this experience supposed to be stepping out of my comfort zone, to challenge myself with the unfamiliar, to experience a new way of life that´s different from my own? And here I was in my Corolla Ocean Rescue tank running barefoot on the beach, just as I do back home every single day.

I walked into the station house kitchen and started myself a cup of reflective tea. What was I doing here? These things that I have found at Solscape, the things that make me happiest, the sun, the ocean, like-minded people, playing music...these are all things I have back home. But then, i looked around me. There was Aussie Scotty and Estonian Kristi playing shithead in the corner. And Spanish joann was cooking Pi-eh-ya for lunch, talking in catala about his fire brigade back home with the Brazillians. And the Isreali surf instructors outside explaining to the Dutch guys about their mandatory 3 year service in the Isreali army. And the English couple chatting with the Germans about the waves they caught that day, Sabrina was making German bread in the kitchen with the Canadians. And then I realized-although this lifestyle is familiar, these parts about it are so, so new. There is much to learn every day from every person who walks through those doors. and i suppose that´s why I am here. To learn, to think outside of the box, to try to understand the world through many different sets of eyes.

The other night, a bunch of us were outside drinking a few glases of wine and chatting about what we did that day, our home countries, etc. My friend Patrick, a German, offered me a glass of wine. I accepted and told him, "thanks man, that´s really nice of you!" because alcohol is one of those pricey indulgences that I rarely can afford. But he just smiled at me and said, "No problem, we should all just be nice to each other. It makes things a lot easier.¨. And then we all toasted, to being nice. It´s how it should be, really. To be able to solve the world´s problems over a box of goon and spaggetti on toast. Wouldn´t that be nice? Just be nice.

Busking

So traveling undoubtably inspires you to steo out of your comfort zone in many ways. But no way in hell did I ever think that I would be inspired to head into town with my guitar and a capo, set up shop at the creative market and bust out in song in the middle of a crowded plaza. I also had a little bin that I had primed with 5 bucks that I set at my feet. Half of the inspiration was out of curiosity to see if I could actually make any money from busking, and half was out of actual desperation because buying surf wax here costs 5 fucking bucks a pop and I´m dirt poor. So I busked, straight up like a homeless hippie, and I loved every second of it.

I didn´t make much money, a few bucks here and there, but I did get some free kettle corn and an invitation to play at a wedding. And a chick from the UK gave me her card and told me she´s in the recording industry and wants to hook me up with some important people. haha. Could be nice, but I think my limited repitoire of Guster songs would need to be improved upon before i move to London to pursue a song writing career. But it was quite flattering, and people generally seemed to enjoy it. And you know what? So did I! Playing music is fun to begin with, but when you´re just doing it for the sake of doing it, it´s just really fun. And when people enjoy it, it makes it really nice. I toyed with the idea of trying to busk so I could make enough money per day to live on, but I dont think I am quite at that level of desperation yet. But the option is always there I suppose. Mom and Dad, aren´t you proud of your Penn State graduate who is playing on the streets for spare change?

Solscape

Thanks to my good friend Seamus, I now am able to write a proper entry without paying 5$! Woo! It's amazing the little things you take for granted so much back home. Like unlimited internet access. like a stocked fridge. Like clean clothes. Like shampoo AND conditioner. Hair products. Condiments. You begin to realize you're a backpacker when someone leaves a half a jar of jam in the fridge after they leave and you feel like you've stuck gold.

I love it here. I've been in Raglan for a week, and I have easily settled into a nice little routine and the chilled back way of life here. I have friends (YES!!), a nice little cabin, I actually unpacked my backpack (What a feeling that was), and I feel like I have made a little home away from home out of my tiny eco-cabin. It's lovely here, and the views out my window of the never-ending pacific cannot be beat.

So life at Solscape is a bit like a surf summer camp for older kids. All of the wwoofers live in little eco cabins and train cabooses turned into bunks. There's about 8 of us, ranging from America, England, Spain, Brazil, Estonia, Canada, and Germany, and as you can imagine, everyone is kinda of here for the same reason. To surf, to be by the sea, to meet people, to have fun, and to live a healthy lifestyle. We work from 10:00 am til 12:30, doing an assortment of jobs such as cleaning the kitchen/bathrooms, making bunks, and then weeding, gardening, and helping Phil the owner with other various projects. Yesterday, we were making an adobe plaster to put on the outside fire-oven. We had to do it "Method traditional", meaning mixing the plaster together with our bare feet on a tarp. Kind of like stomping grapes for wine. All that was fine, but guess what the plaster was made up of? Clay, water, and....Cow shit. Yep. Straight up bovine feces, steaming hot and smelling gnarly. They scooped a shovel full on the tarp on top of the clay and Phil looked at me with my barefeet and grinned. "You want me to step...in that? you're serious?" When they said "poo" I thought it was just another kiwi slang for some sort of building material. But no...It was actually cow poo. And with a sigh, I rolled up my pants and got knee deep in the shit and pretended that it was anything else than what it was. Impossible, because the smell of cow shit really cannot be substituted for much else. I made sure to do a thorough cleansing of my entire body for hours afterwards. We also scrub toilets with no gloves, and I no longer will think twice about it.

Which is funny, because I have slowly found myself turning more into a "dirty hippie", if I should be so brash. I realized I hadn't showered except for dips the ocean in over 5 days, I have been washing my clothes in ocean water, and today I am planning on taking my guitar into town and "busking" (playing on the street). Mom and dad, I know you're proud. But why not? There's no surf, the weather is fine, and apparently, busking is a common way for backpackers to make a bit of spare change every now and again. And I just dropped a shit load of money on my new 6'6" fish (YAY), so I'd love to slowly start to pay it off. Maybe I'll get discovered (HAH!). And the other buskers I've seen and heard have been guys with terrible voices doing shitty covers of Green Day, and they made money, so I may have an advantage here.

Solscape and Raglan reminds me so much of Corolla in so many ways. I live with the people I work with, at dinner time, there's about 15 of us scrambling in the kitchen to make dinners, everyone is laughing and bantering, and there's surf talk and travel stories and music blasting. It's familiar, yet so, so far away from anything I've ever done. 2 nights ago we made home made pizzas in the brick oven, and the entire hostel got involved. It was such a fun night, and I taught everyone how a proper pizza should be because New Zealand hasn't quite caught on the what a real pizza should be like. I binge ate my way into a pizza and wine induced coma and could not have been more satisfied. And the stars here are incredible. We're on top of a hill and there are no lights on at night, so it's just us and the huge, huge night sky above us. I never saw Orion like I can see him here.

I've been surfing (without a wetsuit- the water is fucking freezing but I am too cheap to buy one now), playing soccer with the boys at the Raglan Pitch, and yesterday, we hiked an extinct volcano and came down for the sunset. Looking out over the cliffs of the west coast really makes you feel like you're at the edge of the earth. It's what's so nice about New Zealand- there's miles upon miles of beautiful coast line that actually isn't built up with houses and shops and hotels. It's rugged and wild and beautiful, the way it should be.

The only negative about raglan is the creepy guy who lives down the street with a sign posted "Wanted: 25 year old female, must be fit, preferably from Italian or German Descent, for housekeeping and "other" duties in exchange for accommodation", who walks around Raglan beach with boardshorts that say "In an emergency, pull down", that also happen to have a massive hole in the crotch that purposely show his junk for all the world to see.

Raglan

Paradise found, everyone. Kia Ora from Solscape Eco Retreat in Raglan. How I managed to stumble upon WWOOFing at this little slice of paradise must have been some unbelievable stroke of luck, but here I am, overlooking Indicators, Manu Bay, and Whale Bay...3 of the most famous surfing breaks in the world. From my driveway. I can watch guys ride waves for over a minute (the record I saw was 63 seconds). And it's like that. Every day. No matter how big or small the swell is...everyone surfs, all day, every day.

I was nervous coming into Raglan becuase again,I had really high expectations of the place, and I was also planning on spending quite a bit of time here because I am not working for my accomodation. But as my ride drove me down to the beach to check it out, the scene before me literally took my breath away. Line after line of swell, barely anybody in the water, no houses or resorts to speak of, just miles upon miles of black sandy beach, wind-sheltered coves, rolling hills of rainfores and the wild pacific ocean. It is BEAUTIFUL here.

So I arrived at Solscape and had a seat on the front porch because the receptionist had gone for a drive. And as soon as I sat, I was joined by Joana, from Barcelona. We ate Organic cookies and chatted for a bit, and then a crowd of people emerged from their bungalows, all talking surfing and surfboards and repairing and wetsuits and ocean and beach and AHHHH the place was buzzing. And I sat in pure and unadultrated bliss as I watched everyone get geared up to go out for their 3rd session of the day, people who have come from all over the world to be here just for surfing. And then, as if we had been friends for ages, I was borrowing a mate's board for my first real surf sesh in New Zealand. And we all walked in a pack down the hill to the ocean, where I got my first real look at The Beach.

being out in the water reminded me of Corolla. Everyone was hooting and cheering each other on, no matter if you were a beginner or an expert. Everyone was just HAPPY to be out there, whether they were catching waves or just paddling around. There was a cheerful comradery that I did not expect; I thought the localism here would be intimidating. But it wasn't. And when I caught my first wave in New Zealand (on a 6' 0 fish, nonetheless!) My new friends were just as stoked as me. And we stayed out there until after sunset, which for us here is about 9:30 pm. And then I crumbled into my bed after the longest but most amazing day in New Zealand ever. Solscape will be my home for the next 3 weeks at least. But from talking to everyone here, some who have been here for 4 or 5 months, I may just have to extend my stay.

Tongariro Crossing- WOW.

Congratulations New Zealand, you have officially WOW-ed me. Today I hiked the Tongariro Alpine crossing, named "the best day walk in the world", and I have to vouche for it; I am absolutely blown away.

I was a little scared going into the day because I had such high expectations for the walk. And as we rode to the beginning, everything was shrouded in mist and rain, so I thought, "great. I'm going to hike for 8 hours in a cloud and see nothing at all." And there were SO MANY PEOPLE on the trek that I thought I was going on a school field trip. And the first part of the walk, called "Devils staircase", nearly did me in. I consider myself a pretty fit person, but it was HARD. But then, as soon as we reached the red crater, the sky opened up and there I stood, in the middle of a fucking humongous crater, next to the snow capped Mount Doom (Not actually called mount doom but I cannot remember how to spell the name). It was AWESOME. And awesome meaning...I was actually in Awe, mouth agape, starting dumbfounded at the scene before me. And as I walked, I felt like Frodo and Samwise, half expecting Gollum to pop out of one of the volcanic rocks.

I know I have been cynical throughout this blog about tourism in New Zealand, but I can honestly say that this was, by far, the most amazing scenery I have ever experienced. I hiked all the way up the summit of Mount Tongariro and ate a banana at the top. I was alone, just me and this incredible scene before me, and I realized that I had finally found the New Zealand I had been looking for; no tourists, no Scuba Guides, no Base Hostel or Kiwi Experience- Just nature. And as I walked, I am sure that the others around me were wondering why I had such a shit eating grin on my face the whole time, even after 5 hours of agonizing climbing. I cannot even begin to describe the picture-esque things I saw...Craters the color of Mars, Lakes the color of Emeralds, Steaming hot pools and springs, volcanic Rock formations and reminants of the Pyroclastic flow that rushed down the mountain...it was absolutely incredible. Pictures will not come close to doing it justice.

I have a small fetish with Volcanos I think. The feeling of being somewhere that could erupt at a moments notice is dangerously exciting. And the smell of sulfur, however unpleasant, makes you aware of how alive the earth is. And knowing that a few hundred meters below you is a substance that is so hot it actually melts rock and can destroy any reminantns of life in a second is so powerful. And they can change the entire earth's climate with a single eruption. And they leave behind some of the most beautiful craters. I could go on and on. But my internet is about to run out, so I'll spare you more about volcanoes, and end with TODAY WAS AWESOME.