Aussie Oy!

I awake with a jolt, fearful that I've overslept, and in the dark, I grope for my phone.
The time reads 2:30 am, an hour before my set alarm.  I lay my head back onto my pillow and will myself to sleep a little longer, but it's no use: I wake every 5 minutes or so before finally just getting up.  I'm too excited for sleep.  I pack diligently, ensuring that I have all my belongings.  I move about the dorm as quietly as I can, a courtesy my four Japanese roommates did not bestow on me when I was trying to catch some Z's at the ripe time of 9:00 pm the previous night.
I check out of the YHA Auckland and carefully make my way down the steep city street to the bus stop.  I sit amongst the other groggy travellers and listen to the soothing sounds of The xx drifting from my headphones.

I check in at the Air New Zealand counter and breathe a sigh of relief that neither my checked bag nor my carry on are overweight, an occurrence that is nothing short of miraculous.
I get in a slight spat with an older Middle Easter man when he tries to push my items through security as I'm still struggling to organize them... I guess I'm a little grumpy after all.
I wander restlessly for a couple hours until it's finally time to board.  I know I should probably try to sleep, but I can never get comfortable enough to sleep on planes (especially stuck in an aisle seat) so instead, I down coffee like it's going out of style and immerse myself in The House of Sand and Fog.  It's beautiful, but rather melancholy and as I read, I find myself growing more and more annoyed by the antics of one of it's protagonists.  I close my book and begin playing Who Wants to Be a Millionaire on the console on the back of the seat, remembering when I was a kid and there was only one inflight movie and you had to crane your neck to try and get an unobstructed view of one of the few televisions dangling from the ceiling.

Before I know it we've landed and everyone begins shoving their way towards the exit.  Something has spilled all over my backpack during the turbulent flight and I can only hope it's water.  This time I've had the foresight to bring my own pen so going through security is mostly a breeze.  Until the gruff and intense boarder patrol officer starts interrogating me about why I'm travelling alone and why my passport doesn't have a New Zealand stamp.  I explain that it's brand new.
"Under usual occupation, you wrote 'server.'  What's that supposed to mean?"
"Waitress?" I suggest hopefully.
He continues to stare at me in confusion and annoyance.
"Like... I worked in a restaurant... Brought people food and drinks... That kind of stuff."
That launches him into more questions regarding my previous employer and I'm so nervous I nearly forget the name The Shack.  Airport security makes me anxious, as if I'm guilty of some treacherous crime that I'm not even aware of.
Eventually, I do make it through.  I take out cash and am mortified to discover that the exchange rate is $1.80 NZD to every $1 AUSD.  I instantly feel poor.
I stop for my fourth coffee and a small sandwich as I am utterly famished.  The price tag, $14.00.  I feel even poorer still.  I chitchat with the barista who asks where I'm from.  He's from North Carolina but spent a lot of time in Vancouver.  He tells me that he came to Australia 5 years ago for a funeral and never left.  It makes me think how random and spontaneous life can be, and I can't help but wonder if maybe I'll find myself in a similar situation.  Only time will tell...

I get on the airpot shuttle and slump down at the first open seat I see.  There are already people on the bus who have come from the Brisbane airport, they've left their various items scattered across the seats to mark their territory as they get out to stretch and use the washroom.
I listen to my headphones and gaze out the windows, anxious to get going.  A woman boards the bus and glares at me.  She starts saying something.  I remove an earbud and ask her, "Sorry, what?"
"Someone was sitting there," she snaps.
"Okay, I can move if you want... Not a big deal."  I gather up all my things and shlep further back on the bus as she continues to glare at me.
The bus ride is quite quick and soon I'm standing at the Byron Bay Visitor Centre, luggage in hand.  I trudge down to the YHA and ask if they have any rooms.  The manager is very friendly and we chat quite a bit.  I tell him I've come from Raglan and he says one of his staff members came from there, a tall, German guy.
"Steven?" I ask, excitedly.
"Yes, that's the one!"  Small world! (Small town?)
I ask if he's looking for staff and he tells me they are and asks me to come back the next day with a CV.

I settle in and then cruise around town, checking everything out.
I'm immediately overwhelmed and overstimulated.  Everywhere I turn there is a bar or restaurant or cafe or expensive store.  It's not even summer yet, but already there are heaps of beautiful people, from everywhere and every walk of life.  It's not even spring yet, but it's already hot.  Hotter than the hottest summer day in Tofino.  I wander around, overwhelmed, trying to take it all in at once.  I swear, Byron is bigger than Tofino and Raglan combined times four.  After coming from winter in sleepy little Rags, it's a bit of a shock.

I try to meet Jules at her work but somehow walk by it three times before finally noticing the sign.  As soon as I get there, her boss asks her if she wants to go put up some flyers, so the two of us walk around and catch up.  She goes off to her nanny gig and I sit at the beach for a while.  It starts getting overcast and windy so I go back to my hostel and chill out till Jules finishes work and comes to meet me.
She has a case of beer in hand and the two of us shell out $2 for a game of pool while she tells me about the 7 year old throwing a pencil at her face and telling Jules she hates her.
We go out for a couple more beers then go to the caravan park to have a fire with a few people.
All in all, it's a great first day.

But in the morning, my head is throbbing.  I stay in bed until 10:00, way later than I'd intended to sleep, so I grudgingly shower and start my job hunt.
I go to print my resume and then come back to speak to the manager.  He says I can start housekeeping for accommodation tomorrow and that we can later discuss moving me into a paid position at the front desk.  I'm over the moon at my good luck.

I go to a cafe and treat myself to eggs and beans and a nice, strong coffee.  Then I start to get organized: I get my new phone number, I peruse the awesome selection of surfboards at the pawn shop and I decide I will buy one as soon as I get a paid job.  I stop to look at the bicycle shop, but there is nothing under $100, so I resolve to keep looking.
I get groceries and almost cry out in delight at how cheap fruit and veggies are.  45 CENTS FOR A GREEN PEPPER?! They're 5 bucks in New Zealand right now!

I spend the remainder of my day soaking up the sun, I have to enjoy it while I can because according to the weather forecast it's going to rain for the next 5 days...

I'm so grateful to finally be here and look forward to seeing what this country has in store for me.  Stay tuned!

A Slight Stumble

On the tail end of Jules' visit is the beginning of Linda's.
Linda has found a return flight to New Zealand for 2 weeks for a mere $500 and some odd dollars so naturally I tell her she should book it.
What I don't anticipate is that Jordan and I will suddenly become homeless prior to her arrival.  I feel anxious as Jordan and I frantically pack, clean the house and organize the van.  We're both coming down with the same cold and struggle against our symptoms.  Our booking at a nearby backpackers doesn't come into affect until the following morning so we intend to park the van at Charlotte and Kayla's but end up passing out at Manu Bay while watching Vampire Diaries and eating chowder.
Taking into consideration that camping at Manu is NOT the wisest idea, the car gets very cold and we wake up feeling like absolute garbage.  I'm meant to pick up Linda at the Auckland airport and I feel like too much of a jerk to ask her to take the bus so I down a bunch of tylenol and coffee and hit the road.
I make it in perfect time and Linda and I have an awesome catch up on the drive back.
I show her around the backpackers (located in a beautiful old house and with a lovely private room) and Lin and I go to the pub for a game of pool.

During the next few days I struggle against my cold in an effort to be an entertaining host, while Linda struggles against her jet lag in an effort to stay up past 8 pm and not wake me up at 5 am.
I am supposed to work a couple days during the week but when I call in I'm told I sound awful and am asked to keep my germ-ridden self at home.
The three of us do make an outing to Hobbiton.  I am unsure of what to expect but it is a truly magical experience and well worth the money.  I forget that part of guided tours is taking tons of photos.  I get overwhelmed when families ask me to snap a pic of them and end up taking hundreds of shots in the hopes there will be one they'll like.  When people offer to take photos of us we get incredibly uncomfortable and all end up looking like awkward idiots.

Point in case...

One night there is an 80's party planned that we've all been discussing for months, at this point Linda has caught our disgusting cold and the two of us spend the day laying in bed.  The hostel is fully booked for the weekend so our host, Suzy, has moved a beautiful French man into our dwellings for a night.  Linda and I lay in darkness, coughing, sniffling and watching Overboard while this guy looks at us in utter disgust.  Suzy keeps stopping by and asking us girls if we're alright with our new roomie, but I think maybe she should be asking him instead.
It takes all of our energy to get up and get ready for the party, but we manage.  My outfit of choice: spandex, homemade leg warmers, a body suit and a loose, bright pink sweater.  Total price tag: $1.50.  I love the Raglan dump!!!
I tease my hair and Suzy stops by the admire my costume.  She insists my hair needs to be bigger and has me flip my head while she gets to work teasing and hair spraying.  It looks fabulous.
We rendezvous with Jordan, Kayla, Kadie, Emily, Kane and Luke and start our convoy to the party.  The music is bumping and no one is messing around on the dance floor, but I still feel like crap.
At 2 am I've hit my limit and announce mine and Linda's departure to many shouts of protest.

The next morning I actually feel way better and when Dana calls to ask if I'm coming in, I'm prepared to tell her yes, but when I hear my voice for the first time I'm taken aback.  I sound like a frog with stage 3 lung cancer.  Dana tells me I should just stay home...

It's our final night in Rags and we tell a couple people to come to the pub for a drink and are amazed by the turnout.  It's such a great farewell, it makes saying goodbye that much harder.

We mean to depart in the morning, but when all is said and done it's more like late afternoon.
We drive as far north as we can and stop at a beautiful bay to camp.  I walk into the office feeling like crap and the woman at the desk exclaims, "Wow!  You have GORGEOUS hair!"
Her comment catches me off guard and makes me smile.  Thanks sweet random lady!  I needed that boost.
We all sleep at awkward angles and wake up shivering.

We continue our drive and make it up to Kerikeri and then down to Paihia.  We want the full Bay of Islands experience so we book a boat tour.  We chill for the rest of the day, check out the waterfalls and indulge in happy hour.  We find a cheap campsite and the woman at the office asks, "Is that your van?"
We nod, slightly confused.
"ANN730" she says, reading the license plate.  "7 +3 = 10.  10 is a very powerful number, you can create a lot with it.  With that number, you'll be unstoppable."

Waterfalls in Paihia

We spend another chilly night in the van and then layer up in the morning for our boat tour.
It is an absolutely spectacular day!  We see thousands and thousands of common dolphins and they even have babies!  The playfully ride the wake and jump up beside the boat. They're in the middle of feeding so they all stay close to the surface of the water.
We go to the 'Hole in the Rock,' 'Seal Rock' and check out a few other islands.
We go to Russell, once dubbed 'The Hell Hole of the South Pacific' because of all the rape and pillage that once occurred on the shores.  Since the arrival of missionaries, it is now a cute colonial tourist town.

Hole in the Rock

Seal Rock

We finish our tour and drive up to 90 Mile Beach where we speed down the sand and do doughnuts.  We make out way back to Paihia and treat ourselves to a hostel as it is freezing cold and we can't spend another restless night in the van.  We just want to rest and watch Vampire Diaries but the people in the next room are wasted and loud.  A girl pukes right outside our door in the middle of the night.  I know this is hypocritical but sometimes, I really dislike travellers...

90 Mile Beach

90 Mile Beach

The next day we're back to Auckland and Jordan is heading home to Canada for the summer. It's so weird and emotional to say goodbye.  We've spent every day together for the past 9 months.  I know it's temporary but it feels like the end of an era.
Linda and I check into a hostel downtown and relax a little.

The next day we go to Al's Deli and indulge in caesars.  It's a beautiful day so we walk to the waterfront and checkout the Mataraki Festival.
We decide we should go out dancing.  I haven't been to a real bar in ages and I feel like I owe Linda a wild night after all my sick misery.  We get dolled up and I have this overwhelming feeling of doom while trying to decide where to store my passport due to lack of a purse (insert obvious foreshadowing reference here.)  I resolve to keep my passport close to me all night.
Linda and I go downtown to a trendy bar with 'Garage' in the name.  The bartenders are beautiful, but downright surly.  I pay $18 for a gin and tonic and almost die of shock.  We leave immediately and follow the sounds of hip hop to another bar nearby.  We dance it up for hours but the bar becomes uncomfortably full and we opt to leave.
We go across the street to another bar and I KNOW I have my passport there as I show it to the doorman to get in.  We drink and dance some more and then leave to go to another bar.
When we arrive I reach into my pocket and make the terrifying discovery:
MY PASSPORT IS GONE!!!
I try to stay calm.
We retrace our steps back to our previous location: nothing.
We scour the previous bar, floor, bathrooms, patio: nothing.
I interrogate all the staff members: nothing.
I begin crying hysterically.  I retreat to the hostel feeling defeated and wake up in the morning praying that it was all a dream.  It's not.  And I have two parking tickets on my van totally $140.
I hate my life.
I message a bunch of people on Facebook looking for comfort.  JD calls me immediately and tries to calm me down.  We take some healing breaths together.  He sends me his love and positive vibes.  (JD, you're such an awesome friend, I can't thank you enough for your support in that moment.)
I call the cops and report it missing and they promise to contact me if it turns up.
I call the venue, but they're not open yet.
I go to the Canadian Embassy but they're closed.
With nothing else to do, Linda and I go to Dim Sum in an effort to cheer ourselves up through copious amounts of greasy food.
I finally get a hold of the venue and they say my passport hasn't turned up and promise to contact me if it does.
I harass the venue and the cops repeatedly over the next couple days to no avail.  I refuse to cancel my flight to Aus in the hopes that some good samaritan will turn it in.

Linda flies home and we say a heartfelt goodbye.  I return to the Canadian embassy and the lady tells me I need to contact a woman in Wellington.  She explains that an emergency passport can be issued but only to return immediately to Canada.  A replacement will take at least a month.
"I'm supposed to leave on Wednesday!"
"That's not going to happen," she states bluntly.
I burst into teats.  She tries to comfort me from behind the thick plated glass.
I eventually get a hold of the lady in Wellington and she emails me all the information to begin the replacement process.  A LOT of paperwork is involved.
I make up my mind: if a month is my timeline, I'm leaving godforsaken Auckland and going back to my home away from home, Raglan.
I'm lucky enough to receive a message from Scott, the owner of an accommodation we stayed at in the summer.  He offers me a room at a good price and I feel relieved to have a home base established.

I get back into Raglan and pop into The Shack.  I explain my story of woe and ask if they need any help.  Not only do they, but they can give me a shift a following day.  Things are looking up.  I decide to adopt a positive attitude.  After all, now I have reason to spend another month is this beautiful place.  I have a lot to be grateful for.

To be continued...

Return of the Ghoulz

Jordan and I are en route to Auckland once again, but this time we're on a retrieval mission.  

We are on our way to pick up the beautiful and wonderful Jules and drag her butt back to Raglan with us.
We meet her on a downtown street corner and rush to embrace her in a group hug.  We quickly decide a beer and a major catch up session is in order.  We stop at an Irish pub and immediately strike up a conversation with the girls at the next table.  Two are Irish, one is from Montreal and she and Jules begin bonding.  We think this is a good omen.
We continue to catch up as we fight our way through traffic.  We roll into Raglan at nightfall and wrangle up the troops from the pub for an impromptu 'Welcome to Raglan' party.
Drinks are drank, games are played, beautiful music is made (we even find an accordion in the house and add it to the mix.)  It's a lovely evening.

The next day we do some sightseeing including going to Bridal Falls.  We generally chill out and are lucky enough to get invited to Ben's to look through his insane telescope.  We see the rings on Saturn and some of its moons; we look deep into the milky way; we see the 'jewel box' with 3 stars of green, red and blue; as well as countless other clusters with names we can't recall.  It's pretty incredible.

Bridal Falls

Over the next few days The Shack is doing renovations so I spend some long days there helping get things set up.  Before long it's Saturday night and I meet Jules at the pub for a beer and a game of pool.  Two rather intoxicated ladies round the corner and Jules screams.  They are both wearing cards under there noses that make then look like they have grotesque beards.
"We were just talking about messed up things and then I see you!"
The ladies feign offence, "Are you calling us messed up?" but then insist we try them on.
They're from Auckland and claim they would NEVER don such things in the city, but since they're here in sleepy Raglan...

Thanks for laughs Auckland ladies

A representative from 'Sweet As Popcorn' rolls up and gives us all samples.  I start interrogating him on how I can't find the salt and vinegar flavour at the supermarket anymore.  He tells me to call the company directly.  I'm not impressed.
It's a pretty quiet night in town, but Jules and I hit the Yoti and the intimate group tears up the dance floor.

Sunday morning we want to surf but end up going for fish and chips instead.  We go out to Manu Bay and watch the surfers while digesting all the grease.
The following week is a blur of fun and sun.
We spend a day in Hamilton playing around by the river.
Another day we have a picnic with Kadie and Brenna.  We sprawl out on a blanket in the sunshine, nibble cheese and drink cider while Brenna serenades us on guitar.
And we surf!  Heaps!  We actually get gear and spend 2 full days kooking it up at the beach catching party waves and yelling encouraging words to each other.  We're slightly shocked by our lack of upper body strength and the temperature of the water, but we love every moment of it.

The girls at Waikato River

Kadie, Jordan and I soaking up the sunshine overlooking Whale Bay

Surf sisters

We finish up our visit with an epic open mic night...
Jules and Jordan have practiced a song together and a solo one each.  Kadie, Kayla and Charlottle join us for a pre-drink and we all roll up to The Orca.  Nerves are tense, but I remind the girls how dead last open mic was and how lacklustre most of the acts were.  This is not the case this time...  The place is packed to the gills and the talent is out.
Joe is performing when we arrive and Judith comes running up asking Jordan and I for our bras.
"We're going to throw them on stage!" she tells us excitedly.
I decline as the bra I am wearing is pretty much the only one I own (I know, I know, I'm gross... and poor okay?)  Jordan agrees and Judith tosses their bras onto the mic stand to a chorus of cheers.  Joe laughs into the microphone.  "I'm keeping those," he threatens.
It comes time for Jordan and Jules to perform.  They begin their song but the mic is too quiet and keeps giving feedback.  One of the members of the Raglan Music Club attempts to fix the problem and insists they stop and start again.  They do but the equipment continues to betray them.
"I'm really nervous right now," Jordan adorably admits mid-song.
Despite the technical issues the ladies sound amazing.  I'm so incredibly proud of my girls, I want to cry!
Jordan performs her solo and then Jules performs hers.  She calls out for her back up dancers (side note: earlier in the night I tell the girls that if they get nervous, I will dance on stage like a fool to take the attention off them.)  Myself and some of the other ladies jump on stage and begin to flail about.
The next group starts jamming and we start a dance floor.  The singer comes down and has us each sing a verse into the mic.  Jules jumps on the drums for a while and absolutely kills it.
The night winds down and we find ourselves with the pub crew, drinking by the water.  A beautiful finale to Jules' visit.

Pub crew after Open Mic

The next day I drive the babe back to Auckland and we reassure each other that the next time we meet it will be in Australia mate!

Until next time Goulia!

Kiwi Speak

For a while now I've wanted to write a post about some of my favourite Kiwi words and phrases, or as I like to call them 'Kiwi-isms.'  Since it's winter and my adventuring has all but ceased and been replaced with binge reading the Game of Thrones series, now seems as good a time as ever.  Here goes..

Sweet as... - Followed by no explanation.  When I first heard this Kiwi-ism I would pause and wait, confused.  'Sweet as what?  Sugar?  Pie?" I guess it's up to the listener to decide for themselves how sweet it really is.  It doesn't stop with sweetness.  Things can be cold as, big as, easy as.  It's just as!

I'll come by your place later.

Sweet as.

Mean - It's not cruel or malicious, it's more like awesome, cool or rad.

Bro, that's a mean car! 

Chur - This one still really baffles me since it means either great or terrible, depending on the context.  I rely on the tone of voice to decipher and hope to see a nod or shake of the head accompany the word.

How were the waves?

Chur, broy on the tone of voice to decipher and hope to see a nod or shake of the head accompany the word.

Yeah or Nah - These words may seem commonplace enough but it's not so much the words as how often they're used and the way they're said.  More like, 'Yehh' or 'Nawww' and they tend to finish sentences.  

Yeeewww -  One of the funnest words to yell although I'm not certain how one should spell it.  

Heaps - Lots, plenty.

We got heaps of firewood.

Keen - Interested or into it.  This is a word that had caught on in Tofino, but I never tire of hearing it.

If you're keen we could go for a surf.

Reckon - Used in place of the word 'think,' reckon is used constantly.  

I reckon tomorrow will be a nice day.

Aw you reckon? Truly?

True - For Kiwis, this word can stand alone as a sentence and is repeated in conversations.

Also the word truly will often stand in, usually in the form of a question. (See above example.)

Pinch - Steal.

Someone pinched my car.

Feed - Describing a large meal.  I like this word cause it makes me think of a bunch of pigs eating out of a trough.  

I just had a proper feed.

Knackered - A good word to describe your state after the aforementioned feed.  Can mean full or tired or both.

I'm right knackered.

Gutted - Heartbroken, gutt wrenched.  

Piss - How such a gross word can be so versatile and appealing, I'll never understand.  Someone can be "on the piss" (drunk) "taking a piss" (teasing) or "pissing around" (wasting time.)  There tends to be a lot of ongoing piss talk.

Cunt - What I like about this word is that it's not as hostile as its American counterpart.  It's not used to insult a woman, but rather a term of endearment.

Nah, he's a good cunt.

But there are a couple words that make me cringe.  Such as,

Jandals - They're called sandals!  Just switch out the J!  Jandals sounds so weird and unnatural.

Togs - Bathing suit.  Although points are awarded on creativity, it's just such an awkward sounding word to me.

Ta - A shortened way to say thanks.  I think it would sound rather cute coming from a small child, from an adult it just sounds weird.  Just say thanks.  It's only 1 extra syllable... 

Courgette/Capsicum - Zucchini/Bell Pepper.  Working in the food industry, if I say 'red pepper' when describing a meal to someone, they will immediately assume a chilli pepper.  Then I stand there struggling trying to remember which C word to use until finally blurting, "Capsicum!" to which I will receive a nod of understanding.

That's all I've got for now!  What are some of you're favourite Kiwi-isms?  Anything I'm leaving out?

No Sleep till Auckland

Finally the day is upon us.

The much anticipated Auckland trip.
A chance to get out of the increasingly sleepy town of Raglan and spend a weekend in the big bad city.
Kellen and his school friends were on break and had planned a little New Zealand jaunt and Jordan and I were to join them.

~~~

Jordan and I stop in Hamilton on the way and hit up the auto wreckers in search of a new rim for our slowly deflating tire.  We are unsuccessful, become frustrated and go out for Mexican food instead.
We get into Auckland and go straight to the airport to pick up Kellen et al.
He finally emerges from customs along with his amazing companions: his cousin Nicole and classmate Ken.
When we finally locate the van, we all pile in and we're off.  It's slightly nerve wracking as I'm driving through Auckland on an expired WOF and with three people crammed in the back without seat belts, or even real seats for that matter.
Getting to the hotel is a hassle in itself: I have no data and Kellen's Google Maps is majorly lagging.  After several wrong turns (my fault) and some misdirection (Kellen's fault) we come into view of the hotel (hurray!) and then pass it (boo!)  The Waldorf is under some serious construction and we can not figure out where to pull in, or even where to go to check in.  We loop around the block over and over again in confusion before finally deciding to pull over on the street and walk towards the lobby.  Easier said than done.  We do eventually find a spot some four odd blocks away and at the top of a steep windey hill that leads to nothing.  We get into the hotel and attempt to check-in.  They don't have our reservation.  It's not under Kellen's name, it's not under Nicole's name.  Kellen explains that he booked it online.
"Did you get a confirmation email?" asks the unimpressed gentleman at the desk.
"Umm... no...?"
We're all at a loss and can't find any shred of evidence to support our claim.  He suggests we walk down the street to the other Waldorf location and enquire there.
We do.  They also have no record of our booking.  We all stand out on the sidewalk laughing at the absurdity of it all.  Kellen eventually books something else at a cheaper rate and Nicole prays that her credit card won't get charged for the first booking.

After getting lost several more times we roll up to the next hotel and check-in.
Apparently, the hotel parking lot is full.  Fine.  Street parking is free, but there are no spots nearby.  There is a private parkade across the street, at full price.  Whatever.
I somehow manage to squeeze the van through the crowded and awkwardly laid-out lot.  I go to pay, the machine is malfunctioning.  Attendants arrive and manage to sort it out, but my card still won't work.  Finally, I realize that I have been inserting my credit card in the wrong way.  We all breathe a sigh of relief that we've finally made it.  Except for the fact that we can't enter our room for another 20 minutes while they are cleaning it.  Luckily, we've wasted 10 of those minutes trying to park so we decide to get some booze and take away food.
Every restaurant on the black is Asian and none of us are in the mood for oriental food.  We spot "Al's Deli" across the road and wander in to check it out.
Happiest coincidence ever.  The menu has CAESARS!  Not a Bloody Mary, but a real true caesar with clamato!  And a multitude of garnishes!  Poutine and bagels are also on the menu along with a variety of Canadian beers.  Clearly, Al is one of us and God Bless him.
We all agree that we have to indulge in a caesar while we wait for our take-out food.
I can't describe to you the satisfaction I felt from that first sip.  Sure, it was not nearly muddy enough and obviously I could make a way meaner one if I had the supplies, but it was a caesar and it tasted like home.

We return to the hotel.  The Bianco is in stark contrast to the Waldorf.  It is clearly a party hotel.  The parallel alley is lined with massage parlours and smoke shops, our suite has 5 single beds and is sparsely decorated, we spot numerous questionable stains on the floor and walls.
We start mixing drinks and playing drinking games.
The night starts to slip away from us so we leave to meet up with the rest of Kellen and Ken's school friends.
They're at a cool pub overlooking the harbour.  Introductions are made and the night begins.  We go from bar to bar, never staying in one spot for longer than a couple drinks.  I talk to everyone, a lot.
All I want to do is go dancing and I express this loudly and frequently throughout the evening.  At one bar, I drag an unwilling participant through hoards of people towards, what I assume is a dance floor.  Turns out it's just a weird courtyard full of people.  It slightly resembles a mosh pit and no one is dancing.  I decide to dance on a table until a bouncer kindly asks me to step down.
At the bar, a kerfuffle ensues when a random guy grabs a $20 note out of the hand of one of crew members.  He is not happy.  A couple guys intervene and try to calmly discuss the matter.  Jordan suddenly wants to take it upon herself to dish out some justice.  Nicole and I insist she not get involved, but Jordan is heated.  "I just want to talk to him!" she insists, "For feminists everywhere!"
In the end the money is returned and the antagonist ends up inviting the guys to go cray fishing in the morning.  The perks of partying with future lawyers of Canada.
We wander back to the hotel to pass out.  Kellen swears that he has set an alarm for 8 am so that one of us can run down and move the van.

I wake up suddenly and immediately know that it's not going to be a good day.  I feel like garbage and it's 8:45.  I move as quickly as my body will allow, only to find that I already have a parking ticket.  Cool.  It's for $65.  Even better.
I feed the meter and return to bed.
Then begins my wonderful hungover tradition of vomiting bile precisely every 10 minutes.  Jordan is in similar shape so at least I'm not alone.  Misery really does love company.
The other kids want to go get food but Jordan and I opt to stay in bed.  I decide a shower might help and lay on the tiles letting the water fall over me.  I try to wash my hair, but the hotel shampoo smells like a cocktail and causes me to gag.  When I finish, I realize the shower perimeters are non-existent and rather than drain into the floor, the water has flooded through the entire bathroom and there are no towels left to mop it up.  Excellent.

The rest return with kebabs and fries in hand.  I eat a few fries in the hopes of improving my bleak situation.  They don't help.  In fact, they make things worst.  I can feel the colour drain from my face and I excuse myself to chunder.  Jordan's greatly improved and they all want to go to Al's for more caesars, but my hangover is getting worst by the minute.  Kellen calls me a wuss, but it's my body that's forsaking me, not my mind.  They leave and I go back to bed.
I'm awoken by my door opening to reveal an embarrassed and apologetic house keeper.
"I didn't know anyone was in here."  He certainly did not expect to find someone sleeping at 3 in the afternoon.
I try to respond, but my words are gibberish.
"Go back to bed," he coos, "I'll just tidy up out here."
Thank you kind sir for removing the plethora of stinking empty beer bottles from the vicinity.
I wake up when the others return and feel greatly improved.  We go out for Korean food and I even manage a beer.  Nicole gets hit with a paralyzing migraine and retreats to the hotel.
The rest of us meet the other guys at the casino.  I feel slightly sheepish as Kellen's friends all seem to know a lot about me and I consider it a victory that I remember most of their names.  Someone brings up that I was an English major, the other references my time living in Calgary.  Jesus, did I announce my life story last night?  On top of that, they're all drunk, rowdy and gambling, while I'm stone sober, don't gamble and am struggling to finish my beer.
We head over to a little Irish bar.  Ken and I make up alternate identities and then pretend to be spies. Over the raucous I hear a loud "THUMP."  Kellen has fallen off his stool and is sprawled across the floor.  He is promptly kicked out so we all finish our drinks and call it a night.

I wake up in the morning and the sun is shining and I feel GREAT!  Life is good!  We go out for breakfast and do some site-seeing.  A very enjoyable day with one hilarious highlight:
We pass a costume shop and I exclaim, "Ooh!  I want a fur coat!"
To which Kellen replies, "Well, you can put a pig in a dress..."
This is the nature of our friendship, rude comments.  Nothing he says ever offends me.  What Kellen doesn't anticipate was the woman standing right behind him who says, "Let me guess.  You're American" then precedes to ream him out.  She probably thinks Kellen is my abusive boyfriend.  I play up the part of the victim by pouting, "He's just always so mean to me!"
I want so badly to high five my girl-power champion.  We spend the day wandering, snacking and exploring.  Night falls and Jordan and I reluctantly gather our things and begin the drive back to Raglan, but of course, we stop at the Huntley McDonalds on the way.
We have the wonderful task of moving the next day.

An incredible weekend with a bunch of beauties.  Back to reality, for now, anyway.

Gifts From Home

Recently, I've come to a rather harsh realization: It's fall.
Yes, autumn has come to New Zealand.
Sure, I knew we were headed there: it's been raining heaps,  the temperature has dropped, the clocks changed, but I finally felt it.

It was one of those sunny, crisp fall days where the leaves are beginning to scatter the ground and there is the constant smell of damp earth and chimney smoke.  It's rather lovely.
It's strange, I get a whiff of that autumn scent and I'm flooded with images of past falls and it's as if I'm suddenly transported back to those times, spaces, situations.  Only usually fall is in October and not April.

I was so, so happy to see Graeme and Monica, my wonderful friends from the lodge who are currently teaching in Australia.  The kids were on school break so they decided to visit New Zealand and spontaneously come to Raglan.  We grabbed a coffee and then decided to take advantage of the sunshine and hike Mount Karioi.
The hike felt way faster and easier this time around (the fact it wasn't 30 degrees probably helped.)
I took on Sebastian's role by constantly tripping and actually slid into the splits at one point on our descent (as Graeme said, it wasn't a good splits) yet during all my stumbles I managed not to completely face plant into the mud.
We reached the peak and the wind started whipping hard at our clothing.  The instant we stepped onto the helicopter pad, we began to get pelted with hail.
Needless to say, we snapped a few pics and hauled ass down the mountain.
As we hiked our conversation just flowed, it was as if no time had passed at all.  It was one of those conversations when you have so much to say that you get off topic and onto a whole new discussion, but it's so good you just keep going with it.  Perhaps the good conversation accounted for the ease of the hike.  We talked education, social constructs, marriage, happiness and always about Tofino.  So much reminiscing.  I felt that little twinge of homesickness when we all wondered aloud if we'd ever all be there together again.  Even though I'm convinced we will, we were together in that moment, laughing and chatting on the other side of the world and that's all that mattered.

It was so uplifting to be in the presence of two beautiful people with so much positivity and who love each other so much.  I'm so grateful for their friendship.  You guys are inspiring!

When we got back to town we stopped for groceries and were all shivering in the store.  I got home and took the longest, most scalding shower, put on all my warmest clothes, wrapped myself in a duvet and still couldn't warm up.  Winter is on it's way, I guess I couldn't avoid it forever...

The next night, we all met at the pub to harass Jordan and play a game of pool.  Graeme got rather cocky and bet that even if Monica and I played on a team and took back to back shots for his one turn, that he would still win.  I am proud to say that we did win one game (even if it was on a technicality.)

The following day the two of them and Jordan came into my work to grab a coffee and so we could say our goodbyes.

It's so amazing and surreal to connect with friends in other countries, I really cherish these little visits.

It was great to see you lovelies!  The next time we meet it'll be in Australia and you two can show us the ropes.

More Everyday Adventures

The desire to keep travelling, the need to keep moving, leads us to a weekend camping trip.

We drive south to a free campsite we've discovered.  It's on the lake and so picturesque, it even has a cafe and a playground, I can hardly believe it's free.
The next morning we want to hike the Tongariro Volcanic Crossing so we head to the nearest iSite to arrange a shuttle from the end of the track back to our car.  We're off to a bit of a late start and the woman at the iSite seems nervous for us.  It's 11 am and the last shuttle is at 5.
"We recommend giving yourself 8 hours to complete the track, do you think you can do it in 6?"
Despite her intensity, we're convinced that we can.  The estimated time for these hikes are always grossly overblown anyway.  We pay $30 each for the shuttle.  Robbery, I tell you.
We get onto the track and start hustling, our fear driving us quickly up the steep incline.  We pass old people and tailgate lollygaggers* all the while heaving and dripping sweat.  We allocate an extremely limited amount of time for photo snapping and eat our lunch as we walk.
We arrive at the peak and it's as if we've landed on another planet.  Glowing blue lakes of sulphur sit beneath red mountain tops.  An eerie mist hovers over the entire park.  We truly feel like two hobbits, off to Mordor.  As we begin our decline we realize we're making really good time.  It's just after 2 and we're nearly at the end.  Encouraged by our surprisingly high stamina, we continue on at our brisk pace.  That's when we approach the 100+ elementary school kids, slowly meandering down the narrow path.  Luckily for us they're cool kids and as soon as we appear behind them they all start yelling, "LEFT!" and moving to let us pass.  We arrive at the end with all the other tourists and immediately start stretching out.  We both nearly pass out in the overly warm shuttle.

*On a side note- when did I become a 65 year old?

We head to Lake Taupo and stay at another incredible (and free!) campsite directly on the river.  I wish all New Zealand municipalities would take a page out of Taupo's book, these free sites promote tourism while keeping the freedom campers out of sight and out of mind.  But I digress...
We're exhausted so we both pass out before the sun even sets and don't get to explore the lovely reserve.
In the morning we go check out Huka Falls.  It's underwhelming and too touristy compared to what we've seen.  I'm still unsure if there is a better place to view them, maybe someone can shed some light on this?

Yeah, I guess it's alright.  More of a giant river than a waterfall.

Inspired by our amazing hike we decide to hike Mt. Karioi when we return to Raglan.  I invite along my friend Sebastian who has expressed interest in partaking.
Right away, we realize this hike is going to be a challenge.  It's mid-afternoon and insanely hot, the hills are steep, the bugs are swarming and it's becoming obvious that we have not brought enough water.  Jordan and I are still feeling high off our Tongariro time so we hoof up the hill at a steady pace.  6 hour suggested walking time be damned! Sebastian comments on how quiet and focused we are and tries to distract us with small talk.  We all keep tripping, especially the tall and gangly German.  At one point, Jordan tries to hand him her water bottle and it ends up careening down a cliff.  Sebastian tries to retrieve it and almost dies in the process.  We are now officially out of water, but nearly at the top.
We finally reach the summit, a helicopter pad, and, as always, it's worth the trouble.  At over 1000 m above sea-level we are on top of the world.  We revel in the awesome beauty and take some photos.  A helicopter actually flies right up beside us and we excitedly wave to the pilot.
We descend the hill and Sebastian falls about 10 more times.  It actually takes us the entire 6 hours to complete the hike.  At the bottom, we head straight to the beach where we run directly into the surf and frolic in the cool waves as the sun disappears behind the bend.

Back at home, Jordan and I dig into the incredible seafood given to us by the lovely Jess.  Smoked marlin, a giant crayfish and some rice.  Life is good.  And I'm reminded that there is always an adventure to be had and beautiful sights to see, especially in your own backyard.

Everyday Extraordinary

Living in an actual house - running water, electricity, internet, a kitchen - at first, extremely exciting.
But settling down - working, paying bills, having a schedule - begins to feel monotonous.
Being in the van certainly has its draw backs, but ultimately it's freeing.
We're free to wake up whenever and just drive: as far as we want, wherever we want, and when we get tired it's as simple as pulling over.  We need nothing but a tank full of petrol, some food in our cooler and a good song bumping on the iPod.
Being broke and having to work in order to replenish my savings makes me feel stuck and a little stir crazy.  I feel as if I'm on a treadmill, constantly walking, but never progressing; making enough to get by, but never enough to flourish.  It's extremely frustrating especially since I've grown accustomed to the nomad life.

One day, as I'm scrolling through the Raglan Notice Board, a post catches my eye.  Foo Fighters tickets for sale: only $125.00 each for the floor, when they retail for $165.00.  I mention this casually to Jordan whose eyes light up with excitement.
"Fran!  We have to go!  Haven't you always wanted to see Foo Fighters?"
I begin with my usual bevy of excuses:
1)  I need to save money
2)  I work weekends and probably can't get the time off work
3)  It's all the way in Auckland

But then I stop myself.  Because...
1)  I'm saving money in order to have these incredible experiences
2)  My work needs me more than I need them.  If they can't let me leave a little early and come in a little late, screw them!  It's a perfect excuse to quit
3)  We have the van.  It's simply a matter of filling our girl up, throwing in some bedding and hitting the road.

I want adventure!  I want experiences!  I want to say YES to every opportunity, YES to life.  So I do.

I immediately message the poster to ask about the tickets, along with a few others who have expressed interest.  She takes a lifetime to respond.  Finally, she tells me they are still available and I can pick them up that night.
When I arrive at their house her husband hands them to me.
"You're getting a really good deal on these you know," he tells me bitterly.
"Thanks.  Why can't you guys go?"
"When you have kids, unexpected issues arise," he tells me and leaves it at that.
Oh well, your loss is my gain!

Jordan and I fill the van with snacks and supplies and we're en route to Auckland.
As we make out way North we proceed further and further into a looming storm cloud.  It starts to rain, hard.  Soon it's a torrential downpour unlike anything I've experienced before.  I can barely make out the road directly in front of me.  This worries us as the venue is entirely outdoors.
"I see blue skies further ahead," I tell Jordan as we enter Auckland.  "I think we'll pass right through this and the sun will come through the clouds just in time for Foo Fighters."
We follow the directions to 'Three Kings' to stay with the ever gracious Jeff.  We just want to park out van on his street.  He does us one better and offers us the fold out couch.
We open the sliding door of the van and a case of beer comes tumbling out causing a bottle to shatter. We attempt to scoop up the broken pieces.  Once in Jeff's house, Jordan starts to open her bottle of cider and pink, sticky liquid comes foaming over, spilling all over the white countertops.
We're off to a great start.
We sit out on the patio with Jeff and his lovely flatmates, Alex and Mitch and throwback a few beers.  The rain has letup and the sky has brightened substantially.  They want to go get food so Mitch offers to drive us to the show.  The tickets state that the gates open at 6:40.  We round that up to 7:00 knowing that shows never start on time so we assume that 7:30 will give us enough time to catch the opening act, Rise Against.  We are so wrong.  When we arrive we can hear Dave Grohl's voice ringing across the grounds.  We're confused and bewildered and start sprinting down towards the floor.  Our fears are confirmed.  Somer random guy I ask claims they've been playing for a while and that Rise Against already finished a full set (we'd later find out that the show started much earlier than scheduled.)  Disappointed, we make out way through the crowd and make another startling discovery:  The floor has been divided into two sections and ours is in the back.  We can only get so close before we reach a gate guarded by security.  In front of the gate in the "first class" section there are barely any people and HEAPS of space.
I begin trying to convince people around me to all bum rush the fence.
"They can't segregate us like this!" I cry.
It doesn't work.

The show is awesome, despite our late arrival and some rather shoddy acoustics.  Foo plays for almost 4 HOURS!  And they go hard the entire time.  They do all their classics, a few songs off their new album, a couple Nirvana songs and a couple other covers.  We dance like fools the entire time.  When the show ends we're buzzing from the excitement.  We join the masses exiting the stadium and notice that some very clever girls have set up a barbecue and are selling sausage sizzles (aka sausages and onion in sandwich bread, still weird to me!)
We eat 2.  Each.  And I immediately wish I had more.  We start making our way in the direction of Jeff's house while simultaneously trying to wave down a cab.
A cab stops and the driver asks, "Where to?"  We tell him and he keeps asking us for directions.  Why do they do this?  I'm obviously not from Auckland.  I guess the point is to confirm that we have no idea how to get there, because he takes the longest route humanly possible and the meter continues to rise.  Fantastic.

Back on Jeff's cul-de-sac there are heaps of cars and loud thumping music radiating from near his house.  We walk past a car and see a guy fully passed out, but still sitting upright inside.
We quickly realize the part is actually taking place at their sketchy neighbours house, but at Jeff's, the floor is littered with beer bottles and a dance party has broken out.  My throat hurts from yelling and I'm pooped, so I'm grateful that we're not going out.
We hit the hay pretty fast, in the morning its back to Raglan for another day of work.

A little weekend out of the ordinary, necessary for the sanity.

Raglan Continued

Jordan and I are working women.  We've done the impossible: found immediate employment in Raglan.  Now if only we had somewhere to live...

We move from backpackers to backpackers trying to find something equally cheap/close to town/with hot showers, but nothing meets all our criteria.
We ask around everywhere for WWOOFing opportunities and scour TradeMe but it seems as if we're out of luck.
Finally, a glimmer of hope: I receive an email back from the manager at Karioi Lodge stating that she may have two openings in housekeeping.
We're over the moon, especially when we drive out there and see just how incredible the lodge property is.  Sprawling lush jungle and stunning ocean views on acres and acres.
We meet with the manager, she's sweet and friendly and it seems that we are a show in, until she asks:
"Are you looking for work while you're here?"
We tell her we both already have jobs.  Her face falls.
"Unfortunately, we've discussed it and recently decided we would no longer accept WWOOFers who have other jobs.  There are days we will need you to work into the evening and we can't work around another schedule.  Besides, you want to have time to enjoy your stay in Raglan right?  Sorry.  You're welcome to rent a campsite while you're getting your accommodation sorted out."
Disappointed, we do end up staying a few days, but the lodge is not without its flaws.  There's a huge front gate that is locked at 8 pm daily, our camping spot is small and narrow and involves navigating the van at a 70 degree angle AND making it up a steep gravel hill.  On top of that, there is zero phone service in the area making pick ups and ride to work arrangements nearly impossible for us.
No matter, we make the most of our time there and get to know many of the other travellers living and working at the lodge.

The next night Jordan and I head into town to meet up with Maddy who is in town visiting.
We wander down the long gravel driveway, through the dell of sparkling glow worms and all the way down to the street where we intend to hitchhike into town.
When we reach the road, we are less than hopeful.  Because the lodge is situated next to nothing, far out of town, there is no passing traffic.
We start to walk and soon a car approaches.  We both jut out our thumbs with no expectations, but the car roles to a stop and the owner opens his door and beckons us in.  He's a nice local just coming in from a surf.  We chit-chat and he drops us off at the backpackers.
We can't call Maddy because she doesn't have a phone and we can't go into the backpackers because it's locked and they don't allow outside visitors.  We begin wandering around the building, peering into the windows like creeps, but still, no sign of her.  We describe her to a large group sitting outside, but none of them have seen her.  Now what?
We sit down with the group and have a beer, hopeful that she'll come outside in search of us.
There are many Canadians amongst us and one pair is from Tofino.  We marvel at the fact that we never crossed paths back in Tofino, but instead met halfway across the world.
Maddy does eventually appear and we all make our way down to the beach.
Jordan and I decide to head back and begin the ordeal of hitchhiking home.  A group of drunk guys in a van stop.  They're hammered and insistent that we come to a party down the street.  We politely and venomously decline.  Another group of guys stops, they also try to convince us to attend the party, but we would rather take our chances walking.
We're not even half way and the road begins to get sketchy: no sidewalks, no streetlights, no light of any kind.  We're terrified of getting hit by a car so we stand well to the side in the best lit area and stick our thumbs out to the first approaching car we've seen in ages.
Thankfully, the driver stops.  His name is Blake and he gladly drives us to our location, even though it's a bit out of the way.  We make small talk and tell him of our housing conundrum.
"I have a cabin on my property that I sometimes rent out, I may be able to help you guys out."
He gives us his number and tells us to call the next day.

We hike up the pitch black driveway to our awaiting van.  As we come around the corner we are met with a pair of glowing eyes: a possum.  He steps towards us in curiosity.
"Shoo!" I yell and kick rocks at him.  He is not phased.
He continues to rapidly approach and get unnervingly close to us.  We run past him and start climbing in the van.  We look down and he's directly at our feet, poised to jump into the van.  Jordan lets out a blood curdling scream and without thinking I punch her in the arm.
In the morning our neighbour laughs and says, "You guys must have met Phil the Possum last night!"

The net day we get in touch with Blake to view his property.  HIs family owns practically all of Manu Bay.  Blake himself is an ignominy: he is a professional boxer, tattoo artist, amateur musician and deep sea diver.  He has a tattoo studio and a recording studio set up on his land.  He hosts well-known New Zealand artists like Katchafire and Che Fu whenever they visit town and owns Bob Marley's original drum kit.  The man is Raglan royalty (literally, his family is descended from Maori royals.)
[Side Note: later in the week I would meet a cousin of his at Sunday Sesh who laughed when I mentioned his name.  "Blake has a reputation for constantly talking, he always wants people around and he'll never want you to leave.  He's sort of famous for that."]
He insists we stay for dinner and is constantly asking if we need anything.  We hardly discuss the accommodation except for the fact the cabin has no power or running water.  Blake also has a terrifying guard dog.  We're not totally convinced, but at least we have an option.

The next night, after getting off work I leave the van for Jordan and begin hitchhiking back to the lodge.  Severals cars pass before a couple stops to pick me up.  They are on their way to the beach to drink whiskey and want to stop at their house to pick up ice before dropping me off and heading to the beach.  While the guy, Sean, is in the house, his girlfriend Vicky turns and asks me where I'm living.
"Right now we're living in our van, but we're looking for something a little more permanent," I tell her.
"Really?  Sean has a room that he rents out to travellers, you could probably move in here."
When Sean returns, Vicky relays my story to him.
"Lately I've been thinking of renting out the room again.  I've always gotten along well with my Canadian renters, I had another girl from Tofino stay with me for a while."
They drop me off and Sean gives me his number, "We were meant to meet.  Call me about the room, it's available for you guys to move in anytime."
I'm ecstatic.

The next morning I have to work.  I'm exhausted from only a couple hours of sleep, the repercussions of attending the lodge's Salsa Party.  I lay in the van debating whether or not I should bother showing up for work, because here's the thing about my job: I hate it.
It's easily the worst job I've ever had.
Granted it's super easy, straight forward work, but its a tourist trap.
The other employees are a Cambodian family that are constantly telling me conflicting information and love to yell my name:
"FRAN!  Help customer!"
"FRAN!  Take drinks!"
"FRAN!  Run food!"
All the while I'm thinking, "Cinderelly, Cinderelly, wash the dishes, do the laundry!"
They can never read my bills and hate my printing, they want me to relearn to write.  Apparently my 2s look like 3s and my 0s seem to represent 6s.
Every time I put a bill up in the kitchen the Kiwi chef has something so say about how useless I am.
"Learn how to write your numbers like a Kiwi!" He bellows at me, "Fuckin' Canadians!"
I am concerned he may actually be totally insane, because obviously my printing is flawless and he needs glasses.
While discussing my work "situation" with the lodgers the previous night, I was met with multiple warnings about how they may fire me with no warning and try not to pay me.
God, I just want to quit.  I lay in bed debating: On the one hand, I need the money.  On the other hand I may bust my ass off for 10 hours straight and never see a dime for it.  I finally decide to go in (I've never left my co-workers high and dry before and I don't intend to start) and make it through the door at 7:00 on the nose (by some divine miracle!) and struggle through my work day.

I meet up with Jordan and we head to our new/temporary home at the backpackers in town.  I shower and eat and we sit sipping beers with Maddy, Erica and a few others.  We make our way into town and attend our first (of many) Sunday Session.
Sunday Sesh is an event every Sunday (duh) it starts promptly at 4:20 and goes until 1:00 am.  The local bar, the Yot Club, closes off all of Volcom Alley and sets up a stage where they feature heaps of DJs and reggae bands along with $5 beers.  It's always a gong show and a good way to meet other travellers.
We dance, we socialize, aside from a couple random bumps, it's a successful night.  I return to the backpackers and dread another full work day on little to no sleep.

Sunday Sesh

I'll spare the gory details, but I survive the next day and meet up with Jordan and Maddy so we can go eat pizza.
But first, since I've clearly written Sean's number down incorrectly and cannot get a hold of him I suggest we stop by his house on the way and see is he's home.
I manage to find it and Sean is home and invites us in.  He shows us around and tells us we can move in tomorrow, but wants to make sure we all vibe.  Something about him is a little... off.
Firstly, his face and skull are deformed from having reconstructive surgery following a terrible car accident, he tells us this in detail and goes onto say he lacks short term memory and has some brain damage.  He's an incredible sculptor who creates traditional pieces out of animal bone, but he's just a strange guy.  He doesn't like closed doors in his house, he doesn't like people in the kitchen when he's trying to cook, he doesn't like people coming over, he doesn't like a lot of things...
But he's offering us a place to live along with the freedom to move out anytime, so we agree.
Maddy picks up on his bizarre energy and tries to persuade us to keep camping, but we NEED a home base, at least for now.
Luckily, Jordan has a co-worker who is leaving town and offers us her bedroom to rent, fully furnished with two beds.  We only spend a week at Sean's but it feels like a lifetime.  For someone who claims to be "laid back" he has a lot of pointless rules.  Rules on when to use the bathroom fan, rules where to hang our laundry, rules for disposing of rubbish (he wants us to cut up every piece of trash into a million pieces before throwing it away.)  He talks endlessly about nothing and everything from philosophy, to energy, but mostly about himself.  He loves blasting 90's music at all hours of the day.  One day I come home and Jordan informs me that she now has "Things That Make You Go Hmm" stuck in her head.  "Sean is my thing that makes me go 'Hmm,'" she tells me.

One day I mention that I want to surf and he insists I take out his longer board, right now, this instant, while the tide is still high.  I wearily accompany him down to the beach where we discover: there is no leash on the board and it's actually a bigger day than either of us expected.  Nonetheless, Sean insists on taking me out for a lesson in the crowded line up.  I'm utterly terrified and cut the lesson short.
Sean is full of energy and insists we walk down the beach.  At the end, we watch as the tide recesses bringing all the water that has entered the inlet in town with it.  Two paddle boarders with a dog are ripping across the inlet.
"Watch," Sean says, "I bet they'll cut across the point and get stuck in the current."
As predicted, the pair get sucked out by the current and are soon fighting against the oncoming waves from every direction, making no progress and wasting energy.
I could care less about the stupid people, it's the dog I'm truly concerned for.  He can barely stay atop the board and looks terrified.
Sean yells over to a group of people who call up the coast guard.
"Should we wait and make sure they're alright?" I ask in horror.
"There's nothing we can do now, except say a prayer for them," with that, he begins bellowing out a Maori prayer at the top of his lungs while people look on in confusion.
We watch the lifeguard boat arrive.  We try to wave it in the direction of the SUPers.  When it reappears on the beach, we run over and enquire about the people.  They're okay, the dog too.
"I hope you confiscated their boards!" Sean says.

Days later, we pack up and move into our new home in Lorenzen Bay.  Our roommates are wicked, from Germany and England, and although the landlord lives on the property, he has his own space and keeps to himself.

We begin to finally settle into our new home away from home.

The Beach

Surfers waiting in the line up at Manu Bay

Raglan Township 

Whale Bay at Sunset

Raglan Mainstrip at Sunrise

Raglan Bound

We drive out to our favourite place, Picton, in order to catch the ferry. What I have in mind is similar to BC Ferries, but I am mistaken.

Firstly: You MUST pre-book your tickets. You have to know the exact length of your vehicle cause that's a factor in the price and seat sales are in three categories. Once the cheapest tickets sell out, you have to purchase the more expensive ones in the next bracket and so forth. We get in the second bracket, the entire price tag: $303.00.

Secondly: You have to arrive at least an hour early if you want to make your boat. Then you get sit and wait and wait and wait some more. The boat itself is smaller, but pretty close to the ferry boats us islander know and loathe: cafeteria, kids play area, deck, but they serve alcohol (bonus) and have these rails that go through the car decks so that they can load entire trains (crazy cool) also, they entire trip is almost 4 hours.

Thirdly: You can't hangout in your vehicle, you have to go upstairs and then they lock all the car deck door. Super lame when you want to nap in your cozy van. I don't know if its a safety thing or to prevent theft or what, but it's lame as (look at me picking up Kiwi slang!)

We nap on the floor and awake in windy Wellington where we do not stay even a minute. Instead we begin immediately up towards Raglan, our planned, semi-final destination. We stop in Whanganui and stay at the 'free campsite' (another parking lot, but facing a park and adjacent to the river this time.)
We are so enchanted with this little town that we spent the next day exploring the downtown area. We get so into it that before we know it, it's already dinner time so we resolve to stay another night and leave first thing in the morning. The next day we find ourselves distracted yet again, but this time we are actually productive enough to apply for multiple fruit picking jobs.
We finally start off and make it to Otorohanga but by the time we arrive it's 10:00 pm and the receptions at both local holiday sites are closed. So Jordan and I do what we do best: camp discreetly and illegally on a little side street. In the morning we are up early and off to the public washrooms. While trying to rummage some breakfast together I make a horrifying discovery: the coffee plunger is BROKEN! It has a huge crack in the bottom. I am heartbroken. But at that exact moment, as if sensing our distress, our saviour walks by carrying a huge cardboard box.

“Want a coffee?” he asks.

“What?”
“A coffee.”

“Is it... free?” I reply.

“Yup. Come on, follow me.”

I practically sprint after him as he walks into Origins Coffee, a quaint cafe built in an old train station.
“What do you want?”
“What can I have?”
“Anything.” OH MY GOD!

I ask for an americano and he launches into a rant about how what I really want is a long black. As long as it's strong and black I'll be happy.

The man is named Roger and he tells us that he's from Malawi and features all Malawi fair trade coffee beans. Jordan mentions that she can do a little latte art and he insists she comes behind the counter and show him. She nervously does as he says and pours a lodge-perfect fern. Roger is somewhat impressed.
“Why all the freebies?”
“Cause you're going to like us on Facebook.” (Done and done.)

We practically vibrate out the door. 

 We successfully make it Hamilton where we're determined to shower before a day of job hunting. According to 'Campermate' there are showers at “Water World” (different from the terrible Kevin Costner movie.) We drop into the local iSite and the woman gives us directions and tells us it's a $6 admission.
“What if we JUST want to shower, is it cheaper?” I ask.

“Why don't you just go for a swim?” she asks as if we're total and utter idiots.

Why not indeed? It's hot, we deserve a good soak and despite the terrible name, Water World sounds enchanting. We arrive and soon realize why not: Because the place is FULL of children and wow are they ever annoying!

Jordan and I are the only people who are over 15 but under 40. There is an outdoor pool but it's shallow and full to the gills. There are water slides and diving boards but they all cost extra and worst of all: there is NO HOTTUB! What kind of water world is this?!

We retreat to the 'slow' swimming lane and do laps (the closes thing we've had to exercise in weeks) we're quickly short of breath so we decide we're over this place. Before heading to our lockers we spot a steam room and sneak in (the extra $4.00 charge be damned!) then take the longest showers possible. Jordan gets peeped on by a small child, twice.

We leave and go to our overnight parking spot at the Glenmore Club, it's a $10 lot but has a couple patches of grass and some sparse trees. In the morning we are Raglan bound, we've had a couple of bites on the fruit picking front but we're not convinced. Life in Raglan is our goal.

We get into town and can immediately see why Tofitians are always moving here: it's a more tropical Tofino in every way. It's stunning, full of hippies, surfers, good and bad energy.

A drunk woman yells at us while we pass: “I can tell you're not from Raglan. If you were from Raglan you would have said 'Hello.'”

I turn, “Hello,” I offer weakly. She flips me off (as I write this, she is the second stranger to flip me off here.)

Jordan has an interview later so we wander around and handout resumes. The first sport I see is called “The Black Sand Cafe” so I leave a resume. Five minutes later I receive a phone call asking me to come in tomorrow for a training shift. Take that all you nay-sayers who told me I would never find a job here!

We go to the backpackers, but they're booked up months in advance and they're not looking for any WWOOFers. We go to the iSite and the woman working tells us about “Kev's Place” the cheapest car camping around (this ends up being a lie, we eventually find cheaper camping at a more convenient location) its a little ways out of town but ends up being worth the trek because the grassy camping field is perched high above and overlooks all of Raglan. Kev lives in a old boat he has converted into a house, there are two cute residential dogs and loads of little paths leading to outhouses and showers (yes, showers!) We are up bright and early(ish) so I can go to my training shift. After, we hit all the backpackers looking to work for accommodation. All of them tell us they don't need anymore help. Disheartened, we head to the library and send out masses of emails in hopes of finding somewhere to live. We run into Tom, Kev's WWOOFer. He is also job-hunting albeit rather unsuccessfully.

We stay at Kev's another night and then move onto 'Scott's Accommodation.' It is also out of town and features a furry companion (a dog named Kelly) but it is built out of his house, has power and WiFi and boasts all the free ice cream you can eat. We stay there for a few days before moving onto Kariori Lodge, beautiful, more conveniently located, but no WiFi. Jordan gets the job at Harbour View Hotel and the two of us continue to desperately search for accommodation.

To be continued....