About a week ago I woke up at 5:00 a.m. and hopped into the cab of an enormous truck with my Haydin's stepfather Hamish for a little road trip bound for Westport. I don't know if any of you have ever been to Westport, located, shockingly, on the west coast of New Zealand, but it's not much to look at. It's the trip there and back again that catches the eye.
I'll quell the rumors now and say, with a resounding "Yes," that New Zealand is as beautiful as you think it is. Maybe even more so. The four hours to Westport and four hours back to Nelson passed in one breathtaking instant, which only further fuels my ever-present, ever-growing travel bug. As always, I am having trouble putting the majesty of Nature into words that do it justice. For you, I shall try.
As the sun rose behind us in the early dawn, everything was quiet, dark and peaceful, except for the roaring engine. We sat shivering as I watched the stillness of the frosty fields transform into the rolling hills and mountains of the Northwest while Hamish watched the road. The only word I can think of is 'green.' Not your lame, run-of-the-mill crayon green, but every color in an all-green rainbow casting its rays upon the landscape. Pine forest green, avocado green, cooked spinach green, palm tree green, freshly cut grass green, sea green, pistashio green, lime green, moss green, neon light green, blue-green, yellow-green, green tea green, cactus green, and Heineken beer bottle green. All I could do was stare, mouth open, as we zipped through valleys and over hills, across rivers and past waterfalls, with the looming snow-capped mountains glistening towards the Heavens in a crystal clear blue sky.
For the morning I was so stunned that all I could utter was "Wow," over and over again. Hamish, simply sitting in his massive, vibrating office, laughs and explains the differences between driving Big-Rigs down one-lane roads in New Zealand versus giant six-lane freeways in the United States. Hamish is a well seasoned traveler, much more so than I, and now prefers forty tons of steel over a backpack. Between the two of us there is rarely a silent moment, and those first few hours flew by as the stories unraveled and laughter filled the cab. He was also a tour bus driver for many years and can answer any question I dish out about the land, wildlife, the truck, AC/DC, rugby, and how he's not allowed back into the United States for some bogus speeding tickets, leaving the States only two days before two planes hit the Twin Towers in New York. Also, if you ask what his trucks' name is, without hesitation he will reply, "Piece of Shit."
We pull into the town of Westport, near Cape Foulwind, thus named for being the closest point to Australia...no joke! The most exciting thing about Westport is, well, nothing really. We pulled up at the fish factory and preceeded to have twenty four tons of fish entrails loaded into our two trailers, which took about an hour and smelled delightful. It only took me half an hour to walk around the entire town and I was back in the truck for the glorious ride home and also for a bit of my new favorite sport: Extreme Knitting!!! Haydin's Grandmother, aka Nannie taught me how to knit when she was in town last week and it's been a wild ride. The basic rules to Extreme Knitting is to be in a dangerous atmosphere with two sharp knitting needles and still be able to have nice lines. Sitting atop thirty wheels of rumbling, roaring metal while blasting down the road, I'd say it's a bit dangerous. Every third word I uttered would be classified as "naughty" by a group of seven year olds as we wove through the hillside and my blue yarn, with Hamish continuously chuckling at how easy it was for me to push all the masculinity out of the truck with a few soft stiches.
The views behind my patterns were equally beautiful on the return journey, and a bit sunnier. The multitudes of sheep, baby sheep, cows and also sheep were spread out and eating my green rainbow, and for those of you who read my story about Wales know how much sheep amaze me. (http://moonbeamchronicles.blogspot.com/2008/12/back-to-farm.html ) Probably it doesn't make me look too cool, but I can't actually remember a time when I was cool so I'm not too bothered. Everyone who passed by us waved, everyone utilizes polite road etiquette and I am blown away. But that's just Kiwis for you.
How to explain New Zealand? No one locks their doors. That trust, that securiity, that safety is a start, but there's a lot more to them. Plus a couple of them gave me jobs, so they're alright in my book! You might have noticed the 's' behind the word 'job.' That means it's the plural form of the word, meaning more than one in case you didn't know. I have many, a multitude, nay...a plethora of jobs!
Job 1. Massage Therapist at a yoga studio. (no explanation needed)
Job 2. Special Needs Teacher. (multiple explanations needed)
-Job Description: hanging out with six to eight chain-smoking thirteen to sixteen year olds with learning disabilities like ADD, ADHD, Autism, Anger management, Depression, and also fun stuff like drug addiction, abuse, teen pregnancy, etc.
-Qualifications: none.
-Why?: only Buddha knows...because they're paying me to basically be a mentor/bouncer.
-What's it like?: stressful, but it has its moments of fun and discovery.
Job 3. Working at a hostel two hours a day for free accomodation.
-Length of Duration: eight days.
-Why?: Hostel owner insane.
-Current Location: now living with Haydin's sister Rebecca and her two kids, Ryan (5 yrs.) and Lilly (8 months).
-Status: very happy.
Status: very happy. That's a good way to be.
