Back at the Auckland Hostel, in the lounge where I first met Eeda, sitting in a red and black beanbag chair. A wonderful breeze is floating in through the window, the skies are overcast with frequent spits of drizzle. It's 12:17pm. On the tele is NZ’s version of Jerry Springer. The topic is "I'll forgive you for sleeping with my friend if you take me back." Good gawd. Bradon's recounting the final adventures of South Island, post it soon. Prneela, Mollin, & Ahna flew out yesterday, Eeda this morning. Had quite the last hurrahs... I'm amidst a tough fight with an invisible monkey. He's sitting on my shoulders punching my skull. Bastard keeps ranting on about that double vodka-cranberry at 4am. Wrote the following on Oct. 21st...
The beach town of Raglan is situated beside a long massive bay— downtown consists of 4 quaint blocks. Most people walk around barefoot or sandaled rain or shine. Each shop is full of character: a rustic coffee house, a minimalist boutique, an island-themed pub/ burger/ smoothie place, a huge antique hotel, a street of surf shops called Volcom Lane, a fittingly run-down supermarket... complete with staff of short elderly people whose tender accents are often impossible to understand. The plump man working at the video store gave us warm chocolate chip cookies. Mmmmm. On that note, the employees of each shop are among the kindest Kiwis (native New Zealander) you'll meet. They glow when asked questions. They don't merely provide directions and what not, they reach out and offer advice like old friends.
10am. Drive to the beach in hopes of riding the world's longest left but it's blown out. Check out the La Jolla Shores equivelant instead: 3 miles of black sand all to yourselves! Teach the ladies how to surf and their personalities really shine. Mollin ignores most advice and just charges. It's quite entertaining. She's very sweet, classy, and polite, yet competitive as all hell. During athletics she curses worse than a sailor in the most adorable Swedish accent— her vocab in the water is out of control! By the day's end she's surfing like a pro. Ahna's surfed before and needed just a few pointers. Got it down quick. Prneella doesn't stop giggling and bouncing the entire day. You try to help her but get over it quick... your rented wetsuit is completely full of holes and your toes become frozen white raisins. You return to the warm sand and pass out in the sun. Brad takes over teaching and from the shore you wake to Prneella dropping in on inside breaks. Nice!
This morning you and Brad eat at a bakery/cafe which offers every food and drink imaginable: everything from butter-curry chicken, Hawaiian-style lamb burgers, and baked ham quiche, to fudge cookies, white chocolate pies, and apricot milkshakes. It's operated by a Vietnamese family who cant speak a lick of English, aside from the father who apparently doesn't know the word 'profit margin' because portions are totally excessive and dirt cheap. LOVE IT!
**Sidenote. Ahna just said that Yahtzee is essential to most Swedish girls' travel items. You tell her in the states even old people won't resort to playing the stupid game. Laughter. The girls enthusiastically begin a 17 game tournament. Dumbfounded. Whatever awesome Swedish chicks!
So you're eating at this cafe when all of a sudden a Kiwi boy no older than 4 runs in beaming a naive ear-to-ear grin. His brunette head is over-proportioned so his run is more of a bobbley zig zag, feet fly every which way. As he trots his curious eyes scan the display case. Chips. Gradually his frenzied flip-flop slows to a careful ninja prowl, then to a dramatic stare. Rigidly he stands at attention before the fried potato slices. Every muscle tenses and he begins to shake and cringe in overwhelming excitement. “Ouww maai gaawd! Ouwww maaiii gaawd! Ma theiv got cheeips!” Vigorously he claps and hops. “CHEEIPS! MA CHEEIPS! OUW MAI GAWD MA CHEEIPS!” His buddy runs over but doesn't stop in time and plows him down. Sees the chips. “OUW MAI GAWD WOW!”.... “Yea dear they've gout waurm cheips” The 1st boy jumps up and races over to the beverage case. “Oim thrstay.” Opens the door and touches everything. You approach the counter, request a glass of ice water, turn back and see another small kiwi boy, no older than 3 with strawberry-blond locks and red ink smeared across his cheeks. He wobbles to your table and does a little jig in front of your steaming Americano, sings nonsensical kiwi babble, reaches for the mug but Brad gets his attention just in time. The funny kid wobbles back to his mum. Good morning Raglan!
Return to the RV at 11am. It's the last day on the road trip. Driving this boat around the country was thrilling! Floored it as much as possible, felt like that hellish ice cream truck from the Twisted Metal video game, yelled things like "Yeah! Yeah!" and "Whooo wee!" Leave NZ in 6 days... a little bummed but it seems when any great chapter concludes, or begins, time slows and life grows— an uncanny glitter shines throughout everything. The mere presence of certain people transcends into profound experience. You notice— no rather you appreciate, so much more. Specifics become massive. Silence is louder than conversation.
The weather is much nicer now, however, a chilly spring breeze rushes in off the water. The campground is amazing. 3 long electric fields of grass. Swedes are stoked on more American football. Some are in town using the net. Ahna, Prneela, Brad, & you are enjoying the fact that there's no more sights to see, nowhere else to explore, nothing to plan, no worries.
One night back in the states I relaxed in my jacuzzi with a wise girl... she sipped her wine, looked at the stars, smiled and said “Just Livin.”
Ahna, Prneela, & Mallin getting pumped up
I cant understand your language!
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