WOOF WOOF!

After the departure of my sister, I returned to the dirty life. I had to rearrange some plans to spend more time traveling (woe is me), so I ended up at a fruit orchard in the Central Otago area in the South Island for a week. This was a very different experience from my other placements, but I am very glad to have the comparison. The area is known for producing delish NZ wine and fruit because of its cool and dry climate. I could tell from the start that this experience would be different, simply based on the email correspondence, or lack there of,  with the host. I imagine WWOOFing to be a lot like online dating. You create profiles complete with photos and interests, talk about yourself, seek people out and hope for a good outcome when you go to meet them. Funny thing is, in my case, you are going to be sharing your life with them for the allotted time commitment. The morning I arrived from Queenstown I was once again coming off of a “I’m a solo backpacker must go out and meet people night”, so I wasn’t exactly expecting to work an eight hour day. But I did. Dave, the farmer, picked me up from the bus stop, offered me a mince pie (NZ version of fast food) and put me to work at the fruit stand an hour away. It wasn’t so bad because when it comes to market vending- I can sell! I suppose I passed that test with him, because little did I know I would be left to wo-man the fruit stall for the duration of the markets that week. Unlike the hustle and bustle of selling cheese at the DC Dupont Farmers Market, this consists of setting up a small stand on the side of the road in front of the racetracks. I basically talked to old people about the apricot season, a variety of plums and my indiscernible accent. People often challenge my Texan roots because I don’t sound like Yosemite Sam or George Bush. In any case, I got to read my book between customers and sorting rotting fruit for most of the day. There were a number of other WWOOFers at the orchard. During the busy fruit-picking season, they can accommodate up to 40 WWOOFers. Yup- a regular WWOOFer factory!  I spent the week with a variety of folks from Mexico, Germany, Switzerland and Costa Rica. We were an eclectic group. I, myself with the most English language skills and number of years. I was totally in my element. The weekend started off lovely with a St. Patrick’s Day celebration at the farm where I made a festive dress from a green fitted sheet and found an appropriately swirly green straw. Then on Sunday- the day off- we butchered a pig. A farm first for me, but quite exciting. It was then smoked and burnt for the next few days. In my omnivore dilemma I have always maintained that if you want to eat the meat, you best be willing to slice and dice it! I am not saying it is always my preference, but if you wouldn’t take the life, than don’t sacrifice.  I did spend some time working at the orchard with the others sorting the end of this seasons crops. I also took on the task of cleaning the whole house. I know this may shock many of you, but it is so much easier for me to clean someone else’s stuff! Not to mention the state of this house, lived in by animals, smokers, bachelors and WWOOFers, needed my help. Inevitably, it was in a complete state of disarray within 24 hours, which reminded me why I don’t want to be a housewife. Anyway, the week was a mix of productivity, but there were some questionable “policies.” Firstly, we all worked beyond the half-day requirement, but no one complained. I wasn’t going to throw a fit what with the free meals and beer and wifi. Plus, my work wasn’t back breaking labor.  Secondly, there were not clear expectations or tasks set out for the WWOOFers. There were two other kiwis living/ working on the property, but the messages seemed to be mixed. Dave, the would-be boss, would flip a switch from casual fun guy to stressed out tantrums. He is the kind of leader that takes his stress out on the most vulnerable targets- young, female foreigners. GRRRRRRR! As it turns out business didn’t go so well with him this season. One girl was asked to leave without any reasoning or warning. The things that really got my former managerial head spinning was the lack of appreciation or positive reinforcement. I had to make an action plan list for myself as to how I would whip the place into shape in order (if it were me) in order to bite my tongue. There were some other added “personality” conflicts, but he never came head to head with me. On my last night when there was an opportunity for me to do so- in private- I expressed some of my concerns. I was met with more respect than I had anticipated and then went about my evening helping to cook and prepare a fiesta with the other WWOOFers. Fun was had, sunrises were seen and card games from various countries of origin were played. This kind of cultural exchange warms my deepest public diplomacy heart. It is immersion experiences like these that reiterate the importance of the work of Meridian International and programs like the one in Chile. But I will spare you my campaign for international education funding for now. 

The biggest accomplishment of my week: relearning how to drive a manual! Each day I drove the old fruit van, full of boxes, for hours on end, on the left side of the road, shifting with my left hand. I think that is a kiwi test of survival!

I left the farm and returned to Wellington, stopping in on Jeannette once again for a lovely weekend. Despite its wicked reputation the city weather has cooperated with my arrival and we have been able to enjoy brunches, theater, shows and outings in her home away from home.

 This little piggy goes to market....

 Batty is in fruit heaven!

WWOOFer vision

I also returned to my beloved Kindle and finished the novel Shantaram. A fantastic read and quite a feat! I have been enjoying other random reads- dabbling in some of the greats, classics and theological literature. Aside from the obvious evidence of what I have been up to in New Zealand, I think I have read more and slept more in three months than I have in three years. That might tell you a little bit about how different my NZ life – population 4 million- varies from my DC life, where the population of the Capitol Beltway is double that! Worlds apart... 

I only have  few more blog posts to transcribe and then it is back to the Northern Hemisphere for me….. WOOF. 

There is nothing dubious about the Doubtful Sound...

I was initially hesitant about going on another boat jaunt, simply because of the touristy implications, cost, and the fact that I had already embarked on a long day cruise with Jeannette to the Milford Sound when I first arrived. Well, I am glad to say that my sister’s insistence and generosity convinced me otherwise. After a bit of deliberation we decided on the overnight cruise in the Doubtful for a few reasons; though more expensive, time on the boat was longer, the one company that operates there guarantees solitude and no other boat traffic and the diversity of the new view was enough to encourage me.

We had no idea what we were getting into. After a delightful morning hike and delicious meal of pasta from the back of our van, we gathered with 100 or so other passengers with gear for a small boat headed across the Lake in Manapouri to reach our bus. This is the only way in or out of the Sound. After our small ferry to our bus, we were routed to the dock of our Fiordland cruise boat. We had been automatically upgraded to a private double- thank you kiwi hospitality! We were elated with the accommodations and free shower, after living in our van for a week. Batty, my wayward companion was also very excited by the seemingly posh pad.  Batty is the small stuffed fruit bat that you see in many photos through my travels. More on him later.

The crowd was slightly different than the typical throngs of backpackers we had been encountering, in that they were slightly older and many were couples. After all, this wasn’t exactly a backpacker budget adventure. Andrea and I feared we would be the youngest on the boat, but soon encountered a few Europeans, Israelis and yes.. Americans.  I am happy to report that I haven’t met that many Americans during my travels. I prefer to be the solo cultural ambassador, perpetuating or disproving stereotypes as I please.   Though I have encountered a few posing as locals, working for accommodation in hostels and other tourist spots. Much to my chagrin the lot of them have been tolerable, even pleasant. The Americans on our cruise were working in Christchurch as engineers for the earthquake relief. This was their first real vacation after many months working hard. They were from Texas, of course.

Anyway, Andrea and I did some brief exploration and sun soaking until we anchored. We hopped in our kayaks with others and explored the surrounding area. I really can’t express what it was like to be dolphin searching, bird listening and toe splashing commandeering your own kayak in the water. Once we arrived back on board, there was an announcement before dinner. We had the opportunity to jump in the frigid sound. Without a word, Andrea and I looked at each other and sprung to our feet to determine our best bathing suit substitutes. In the end there were only a few people who decided to jump off the dive spot from our boat into the water. We were all from Texas. The water was a temperature rivaling the Titanic ( in my mind), but totally worth it! 

The rest of the evening continued in glory, with seal spotting, a breathtaking sunset and possibly the best dinner we had in our travels. Unlike typical, touristy cruise ventures there was a renowned chef preparing our kiwi dinner. And much to my gluten intolerant, vegetarian sister’s delight the meal was amazing. She was catered to and we helped ourselves to many plates of mussels, salmon, kumara, desserts etc. In celebration we split a bottle of wine and reveled in the glory that is true holiday. I spent the remainder of the evening star gazing into the Southern Hemisphere sky with a glass of wine in hand.

The captain starting churning the engine at 6:30 am which woke most passengers, except for me, of course. I did, however, rise to the occasion when he summoned us on the loud speakers for the sunrise. This sunrise was epic. Photos and words cannot do it justice. It was the kind of sunrise symphonies are made of and artists dream for.  It was the kind of sunrise that makes you a believer. Whatever faith or system- it was the kind of sunrise that makes you grateful to whatever you call God, Allah or Mother Nature. The purple pink of the night behind the mountains quickly rose to softer pinks, yellows then a bright blazing orange reflected perfectly in the still water. It is moments like this that make me thankful I have opportunities to explore. The freedom to stop and reflect.  The eyes to see and the ears to listen. The time to wonder in awe. Gratitude.

Rainbows, Waterfalls and Mountains- Oh My!

One of our goals during our travel venture was to complete one of New Zealand’s GREAT WALKS. The Routeburn Track is a world-renowned tramping (hiking) 32km track found in the South Island. The track is usually completed by starting on the Queenstown side of the Southern Alps, at the northern end of Lake Wakatipu, and finishing on the Te Anau side, at the Divide.

The New Zealand Department of Conservation classifies this track as a Great Walk and maintains four huts along the track. The track overlaps two National Parks; the Mount Aspiring National Park and Fiordland National Parks with the border being Harris Saddle. The track spends a long time on the high ridges around Harris Saddle, with great long-distance views in many directions. This would elicit envy from even the most casual of Lord of the Rings fans. New Zealand conservationists  and citizens alike are very serious about their beautiful bush walks and limit the number of people allowed on the trail at any given time. Again, the stars were aligned for us on this part of our travel. We enjoyed spectacular views, encountered good people and weathered some stripe-earning storms. After a long transfer to the trailhead from Queenstown we set out on the first day in pouring rain; relentless, unwavering New Zealand rain. It rained to the point that even my most waterproof apparel was no longer so. Fortunately we were prepared (enough) and it was not frigid so we still made it to our first hut with time to spare. Much to our relief, we had decided to spring for the indoor, shared, bunkroom accommodations provided by the NZ Department of Conversation, for a generous fee. With this we had access to stoves, fire, beds and shelter. I cannot tell you how much we were saved by not packing in a tent, oven etc. We often considered how our travel would have been if our brother, J.B., had been able to get time off work to make the trip. We decided he would have been quite handy with the tire incidents, bug swatting, map navigating and other Boy Scout necessities. However, he may have protested to the Hut accommodations over tent camping initially and this is where I can say Boo to boys! We were able to spend plenty of time indoors recovering, photo shooting and of course playing cards. As different as we may be, (and we are) all Cosbys play cards. It’s one of those DAD life requirements, much like jumping off the roof or not getting training wheels. I digress. Anyway,  we played so many cards that we actually started making a list of “dadisms” or colloquial, old school, dad phrases. If you know me, than you know there is a long list to be imitated. We also enjoyed the company of some other trekkers in our card games as well as evening fireside chats with the DOC warden. And again, being Cosbys, we talked…. and talked. We discussed life- past, present, future and over analyzed all relationships.  Throughout our hikes, however, we marveled at rainbows,  stared at mountaintops,  ascended rock points and descended into beach tree rainforest cover. We leaned over and under waterfalls; all that with permanently wet socks, smelly shoes and often-sweaty packs. And following in character and expectation of the baby sister, I trailed behind and slept in, only to be awoken and guided by the wiser and slightly more energetic older sister. 

Cosby Kid Adventures Come to an End

 Warming up for the Routeburn Track

 A delightful view in the Abel Tasman

 

Adrenalin surges before we plummet from 12,000 feet in Taupo!
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I thought I should post this journal entry, though so delayed, as an ode to my sister, Andrea; without whom I would never have experienced some of the coolest highlights of my New Zealand adventure. Not only was my older sister more energetic and organized than I, she also enabled me to a world beyond the world of WWOOFer/ backpacker. This is a travel world I have not known...... since childhood. I owe her much gratitude for helping fund major travel highlights, flying across the world to join me for three weeks and for not letting me jump out of a plane....alone. Many of you have already heard some of these stories or seen evidence on the ever extensive facebook album, but I will share my account of what it is like to travel with your sister extensively for the first time in over 20 years. :)
I met Andrea in Auckland on the morning of her arrival. She was jet lagged and I was, well, some kind of lagged, as I had spent the previous day sampling wine and seafood delights at the Keri Keri Food and Wine Festival! Despite my state, I made my 7:30am bus and met her at our hostel. Andrea had the keen ability to look as if we needed an upgrade (to a private room) in locations, so most places upgraded we sisters for free! We didn't explore Auckland aside from Indian food and cafes. Though in my previous experience I had deemed it not worthy of tons of urban discovery. So we set off on our bus South the next day. Our first few days were spent and spend happy tourists. We went to a Hangi (traditional Maori earth oven meal) and performance our first night in Rotorura and also sprung for the geothermal tour, which was cool, but nothing compared to the scenery we would be taking in, as I assured her. From there we traveled only slightly South to Taupo. This center of the North Island offers some good views and the largest lake in New Zealand, which really isn't very grand. However, when you jump out of a plane on a clear day- that lake appears awfully vast, massive and death defying!
The decision to skydive was mine, only made possible by Andrea. Skydiving has been a goal of mine and was on the top of my Top 30 Before I  

Turn 30 List- as was coming to New Zealand in the first place! 

In any case, the decision was made on a whim 24 hours prior. Contrary to my usual inquisition, I didn't ask for the worst-case scenario stories until after we survived. While we suited up and vaguely watched an instructional video, I think I lost touch with what I was about to do. Andrea was elected to jump out of the plane first. She will blame me for convincing her to do this, but truth be told, I never expected she would want to come with me.  I offered her multiple outs, but big sisters don't like to be shown up by their cooler, younger counterparts;) In any case, Andrea in all her shakiness lept from the plane first on leap year- with a much cuter tandem instructor than I. I, on the other hand, was about the sixth person to leap from our tiny prop plane and didn't get petrified until the door was open and I was asked to simply hang my legs over the side of the plane while my instructor held us against the exit with his foot. Naturally, I rambled the entire ascent to 12,000 feet and was likely the only person in the plane making small talk. However, when I held out my hand it wasn’t even unsteady. There is something oddly calming about putting your life in a strangers hands. One of the last thoughts I had before jumping was, I can’t believe my grandfather did this in WWII on D-Day with a medic bag. Buck up! All went according to plan except that the 40-second free fall felt like 900 minutes to me before the chute opened. All I said was expletive#*$& expletive the whole way down, but had my eyes open enough to enjoy it! You are supposed to keep your head back and your legs tucked (imagine your body as a backwards banana on another person), but I failed in that regard because I flailed my legs. As if I expected them to find gravity to stabilize myself in mid-air. I flailed until the chute opened and we were traveling vertically as opposed to horizontally through clouds. The experience is indescribable. There is a feeling of immortality, fierce fearlessness and insanity that combines to create a major surge of “I can do anything” endorphins afterwards. So in true Cosby fashion we celebrated with a delicious meal before catching out bus later that afternoon!

We arrived in Wellington a la casa Jeannette and enjoyed the free access to Internet, laundry and planning time. Jeannette’s house that she shares with her flat mate outside of Welly has been my home away from home and base for me in New Zealand. It has been glorious to be able to leave a finished book or unwanted clothing and have my own room in NZ! Andrea and I spent a long day sorting out our plans for the rest of the trip. This involved planes, buses, rentals, reservations, cancellations etc. She was the brains, or the financier, and I was the brawn, or the spokesperson/ negotiator, in this business we call travel. In the end, there were limited hiccups and we pulled off the rest of our co-travel with only minor hitches. But what is travel without a rainy day, an almost busted tire and a parking ticket to make you appreciate it all? Or in our case, help you justify retail therapy and ice cream!

          We left Wellington to pick up our rental van in Christchurch. Then, we hightailed it in our purple and green home to Nelson where we would enter the Abel Tasman National Park. After a day and a half of hiking and kayaking on the breathtaking coastal track we made our way down the west coast of the South Island, stopping for the phenomenal views. The roads were windy and slick. Often, you can go hours without seeing another car. This can be a pretty handy thing while you acclimate to driving on the left side of the car on the left side of the road into one-lane bridges that decorate New Zealand highways.

We slept next to moonlit beaches, we found organic cafes with gluten free delights and we won’t discuss the sand flies that haunted us throughout.

When we got to the Franz Josef Glacier we discovered a touristy town ready with cyclists, mountaineers, ice heli-hikers and beyond. Andrea and I took the less intense route of “run to the glacier in the pouring rain long enough to enjoy the view and snap the photos.”  We also took in the kiwi exhibit and enjoyed overpaying to see the nocturnal, endangered, pre-historic wonder that symbolizes New Zealand. 

Beyond the glacier, we found dry solace in a cute little resort town called Wanaka. It provides a beautiful lake view and some tiny vineyard tracks. In the winter this turns into a ski destination for the kiwi elite. Again, we sorted ourselves out with cafes, Internet and planning for the remainder of the trip. All the while we are sleeping and carrying all of our worldly possessions in our blessed camper van, which really wasn’t that uncomfortable to sleep in! It came equipped with a stove and mini-fridge.

From Wanaka we traveled to the tiny town of Manapouri, which was the only location we encountered some issues with “freedom camping” and ended up parked outside a residential culdesac /park. All went well as we departed early to meet our small cruise boat for an overnight adventure in the Doubtful Sound. But that adventure, is a story all it’s own!