Writing is a funny thing, and recently I’ve been focused on the differences between scripting by hand (the case for my personal journal) and typing away at a keyboard (for my blog and family/friend emails).
When scrawling across a notebook’s page I’m confident that my story isn’t getting buried in revisions. There is no backtracking, since I write in pen and my OCD tendencies won’t allow me to cross anything out, and as such the words seem to throw themselves down on the page before I have the chance to think better of it. It’s like the writing section on standardized tests, where the panic of a ticking clock forces me (and everyone else, I think) to write first and determine quality later. The result is often a solid, better than expected but not exactly amazing product, one that might land in the B range if given a proper grading.
Typing, on the other hand contains within it the potential for greatness and the possibility of rubbish. Because we have the ability to add text, delete sentences, change words, etc. we occasionally lose track of what we set out to say in the first place. Even now I’m wondering whether any of this is at all interesting, or pertinent, or coherent. Anyway, it’s another excuse should this blog (still hate the word) entries turn out to be suboptimal. It’s the keyboard’s fault for giving me just enough editorial rope to hang myself. Moving along…

I’ve left Paihia after 16 nights, and it’s been an amazing experience. Scratch that, it’s been a great and enlightening two weeks, but “amazing experience” is clichéd garbage and I won’t use it in my writing. Or rather, I will use it but then try to backtrack right afterwards (see above for example).
Anyway I’ve stayed in the Bay of Islands for these two weeks rent free thanks to Workaway. For the uninitiated, Workaway is a program/website that matches hosts with travelers. The traveler (that’s me!) performs a few hours worth of work a day in exchange for free room and occasionally board (I think board means food). It’s similar to WWOOFing (Willing Workers on Organic Farms) but is expanded to include housework, childcare, technical assistance, you name it. It’s a great way to save some money, earn yourself a host family, and worm your way into the fabric of your new home.

So for my first week in Paihia I stayed and worked in a hostel, the Saltwater Lodge. It’s a really nice place, kept very tidy by myself and the other 5 or so workers who clean the rooms every morning. It’s a stone’s throw from the beach and adjacent to the only two backpacker bars in town, and during my time in the Bay of Islands it’s been home.
Now in trying to explain just what it’s like to call a hostel a home I’ve stumbled upon the analogy of a coral reef; please bear with me.
The other workers and I are clown fish (think Nemo) who spend all their time amongst the anemones and whatnot, so we are the regulars. Our average stay is around two weeks, which is more than enough time to fully explore the little beach town we find ourselves in and feel like a know-it-all.
Every weekend (I’ve spent three here) brings in a new school of fish, or student group. The first time it was Danish students, the second it was an Auckland all boys high school, and this final weekend it’s kids from Denmark again. These “schools” are generally noisy, messy, and as far as the workers are concerned, practically homogenous. Their arrival is marked with a collective groan from the workers, because their eventual departure is certain to include an inordinate amount of bed making, dishwashing, floor sweeping, litter removal, fridge cleaning and toilet scrubbing.
Apart from the schools and the regulars you find the occasional visitors, like a parrot fish or grouper that finds its way from the wilds of the open ocean to the safety of the reef. These “visitors” are solo backpackers who often join the worker nucleus for the duration of their stay and usually bring some funny stories to the table. Moreover these quick friendships can be great motivation for seizing the moment and pushing us clown fish to go out, because it seems to always be someone’s “last night in town”.
Finally you have the owners and managers of the hostel, who we’ll call sharks. Sharks are infrequent visitors (at least during social hours) but their presence is often enough to drop the room temperature a few degrees (Celsius, of course). Even though our bosses were generally very friendly (they are kiwis after all), they were still the distributers of nasty assignments like bathroom duty, so respect must be paid.

My second week in Paihia was spent living with Taylor and Ruby, a really great young couple who run a small Kayaking business (Bay of Islands Kayak Cruises). In exchange for letting me stay in their spare bedroom I helped Taylor out on the kayak tours, a job which I would gladly have done for free. Well really I did work for free, but you get the idea.
The tours would meet at a small stone wharf near the Paihia harbor. After getting everyone on board the Night Rider (a renovated oyster barge) we would putt on up the Waitangi river for about 15 minutes. From there the group would kayak the rest of the way up the river to Haruru Falls and back, a trip of approximately 90 minutes. Along the way Taylor and I would point out some interesting landmarks: the nests of Shags (Cormorants), a waterfront house complete with brick pizza oven, and a neat alcove in the mangroves that is only accessible at high tide. Sometimes the trip would be at night, and on the way back from the falls we could see bioluminescence in the river, the Milky Way, and the occasional shooting star. The river is really shallow, about waist deep, and really calm and warm. Also our group size was about 14.
My job was to help Taylor with set up, cleaning the boat, and getting our guests sorted with their kayaks, lifejackets, and paddles. But mostly my job was to keep the mood up on the group and make sure everyone was enjoying themselves. My six years at the Circus Club came in handy as I spent 90% of my time smiling, and the other 10% nodding interestingly. And mostly it was even genuine, as our visitors often came from all over and had their own interesting stories to tell.
Thanks to my kayaking I now have a fresh perspective on the tourism industry. For every one of our guests, the trip was a unique experience. They’d all paid to be there ($48 NZ dollars, the best value in the Bay of Islands) and were happy to be trying something new. The shtick that Taylor and I did every day (sometimes twice a day) was dialogue they had never heard before, and after a week I knew what lines would draw the most laughter, and I got pretty good at playing my role as the friendly Yank. It wasn’t meant to be dishonest at all, or even fake, but when you’re providing customers with an experience (it is the service industry) you quickly learn the most efficient way to provide that experience. When we did get out on the water, we were able to exchange some more meaningful conversation with our charges, and I got to hear some pretty amazing stories. The whole gig was a sweet one and I’m very thankful to Taylor, Ruby, and their little girl Amber for having me as a guest.

Unfortunately I’m running out of steam, so I’ll have to end this post here. Sorry to all for the extreme length; I hadn’t written in a while and wanted to share as much as I could from my time in Paihia. My best to all at home and I’ll try to update more frequently when possible.
By the way I’m currently in Auckland, and will be leaving on the Stray Bus for Hahei on Wednesday (tues. in the states). From there I will be following the Stray Bus “Max Pass” tour, so please google that if you’re curious about my general direction.
And please see assorted photos below, cheers!