I’d like to preface this entry with the disclaimer that I am exhausted and a bit green about the gills, so if the writing that follows is particularly atrocious I’ll have to chalk it up to that. Bad days follow good nights, as the saying goes, and I think my body is trying to put the kibosh on anymore shenanigans in the near term. It’s just as well that I’ve decided to take a quick interlude from my mad dash around the country and spend a few nights here in Taupo, home to New Zealand’s largest lake (approximately the size of Singapore).

When I last wrote I was returning to Auckland after my working holiday in the Bay of Islands. The City of Sails was a lot more fun the second time around, in part because on this visit I stayed in a centrally located hostel just off of Queen Street, a few minutes’ walk from the harbor. I did most of the regular touristy stuff: visited the Sky Tower, walked along the Viaduct, window-shopping etc. Then on Wednesday I boarded the Stray Bus, a hop on hop off transportation service for backpackers, and left Auckland for the Coromandel Peninsula.

The Coromandel is beautiful; equal parts lush native forests and white sandy beaches. It is apparently known as New Zealand’s version of Thailand, and is also infamous for it’s burgeoning cannabis industry (the dense vegetation makes crops difficult to spot from the air). Our group stayed in the tiny, tiny little town of Hahei, which was mostly deserted on account of it being the off season. Hahei was quite pleasant and most of us did a few hour hike to the gorgeous Cathedral Cove, which I’ve catalogued in some of the photos down below. Outside of the shoreline however there wasn’t much to explore in Hahei, and our group was happy to leave the next morning for Raglan.

Raglan is known as the surf capital of New Zealand, and features the world’s longest left hand break (whatever that is). Just like in Hahei the Stray bus took us to a remote hostel that felt a lot like summer camp, and also just like in Hahei there wasn’t much to do besides go for a walk along the beach. Not that I’m complaining mind you; the weather was amazing and watching the sun set over the ocean was one of the highlights of my travels so far. Still it’s fairly exciting to return to modern trappings, and today I’ve been bingeing on the internet like a true neckbeard (google it).

The next day we drove to Waitomo, home to an extensive cave network. Here most of the group and I went on a spelunking tour, replete with abseiling, rock climbing, and a whole lot of crawling. The tour lasted three hours, took us about 75 meters underground, and was utterly exhausting. Any claustrophobia I may have harbored is long gone, thanks to some of the tiny crawlspaces I made it through. Also the caves are pretty well known for their glow worms (Arachnocampa Luminosa) and we saw a few along the way.

That night we stayed in a Maori mourea, which is a large meeting house that looks a bit like an oversized log cabin, but filled with intricate wooden carvings and pictures of the tribe’s deceased members. The evening was part of Stray’s cultural immersion program, and despite my initial skepticism (these things usually feel a bit forced) I really enjoyed the experience. Our group learned (and performed) the Haka, ate a fantastic Maori meal, and listened to some pretty fascinating stories. The family who runs the mourea couldn’t have been more welcoming and after spending ten minutes with them it felt as if we’d known them our whole lives. It was sad to leave, but everyone was also a bit relieved to not have to share one giant room anymore.

The next morning featured a day stop in Rotorua, the most active geothermal city in the world. The whole place reeks of sulfur, but was great for a quick visit. Again, photos below. Sadly about a third of our group chose to stay in Rotorua, as it is the closest place from which to visit Hobbiton. And then today I decided to get off here in Taupo, and had to say goodbye to the rest of my bus, at least temporarily. Lots of us get off along the way, so with any luck I’ll be encountering the scattered remains of our cohort around the South Island.

While I’m on the topic, I’ve got to say that this has been one of the things I’ve found hardest about traveling: the constant making and losing of friends. I’m no longer worried that I’ll be left completely friendless, as I’ve now been on the road long enough to know that new buddies often lie just around the corner. But the individual relationships that form in a matter of days are still painful to part with. These are guys and gals who, though we’d only spent a few days and nights together, felt like long lost cousins I was glad to have found. Then there is the family I stayed with in Paihia, my fellow workers at the Saltwater Lodge, and even hostel roommates who I only knew for a couple of hours. It’s always a bit heavy to say goodbye forever, and even with the requisite facebook contact you know you’re likely to never see them in person again. Anyway I guess it’s a price to be paid for being untethered, and hopefully I’ll see most of my comrades somewhere down the line.

So as not to end on too sad of a note, I’ll throw in some fun facts I’ve gathered along the way. The common Kiwi slang I’ve picked up include mate (obviously), sweet-as (as in, “sweet as pie”, and chilly bin (a cooler). I’m also using a lot of Britishisms such as heaps, rubbish, and cheeky. Apparently one in four people in Hamilton, NZ have chlamydia, and there is an area of teh downtown known as the Chlamydia Triangle. My lifelist is now up to a whopping (not really) 210. My time on the Waitaingi River taught me about a few dozen species, and now I’m something of a North Island shorebird expert. Don’t act like you’re not impressed…

As always I’d like to give my best to everyone at home and I hope you’re all enjoying the Giants’ nice start. I listened to some KNBR this morning (via my ipad) and I’m prouder than ever to wear my SF cap everywhere I go. My wifi situation isn’t entirely reliable as a lot of Stray stops are pseudo camp sites, so pease forgive me if I’m unable to reply to your emails for a few days. Our next stop is Tongariro National Park.

Best,

James

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!

So I just got to Paihia (pronounced Pie-Hee-ah) on the Eastern half of the North Peninsula above Auckland, about a four hour bus ride from the city. The hostel I’m stationed at, The Saltwalter Lodge, is really clean and open. I’ve only met a few people so far but the place is currently swarming with Danes. Apparently there is a big student group of some sort and about 3 dozen Scandinavians are walking around speaking gibberish. According to my German roommates they are absolutely nuts, and I’m looking forward to seeing all the stupid drunk antics they may get up to later.

Anyway, my days in Auckland included an ungodly amount of walking. I owe a big debt of gratitude to the elliptical back home, because without months of slow-motion cardio training I fear I wouldn’t have lasted. My first half day isn’t really worth mentioning because I was so sleep-deprived that nothing I accomplished is interesting to anyone at all, including mysellf. The best thing I did that first afternoon was stumble into a Malaysian restaurant and eat a noodle dish called Char Kway Teow, which I highly recommend to anyone who finds themselves dining with the Prime Minister of Claymation (Zoolander reference for the confused).

So the next morning I thought it would be fun to walk to my new hostel rather than take taxi or ask an information kiosk for the proper bus. With my 28 pound bag on my back I walked for three hours, mostly uphill, to the Auckland suburb of Mount Eden, where the Bamber House is located. Once I did get there I found a really nice house tucked away in the middle of a residential area. The majority of the guests there were long-term residents and the place had a “co-op” feel to it, or maybe a low budget version of the Real World where the residents don’t party as much. As I remember it there was Brendan and Jazz (short for Jasmine) from Toronto, Matt, Peter, and Vicky from Ireland, Frankie (a girl) and Trudy from the West Midlands in the UK, and Mathue (sp.?) and Sebastian from Toullouse and Bordeaux respectively. All of them had come to New Zealand looking for work and as far as I can tell most of them had found it. The two French guys in particular both mentioned the dismal job situation back home, while the Irish folks whined about how their homeland was too small and had awful weather. My time there was pleasant but I felt a little like an interloper, since my stay was so short compared to all of theirs. The whole thing was worth it though if just to hear all of the accents.

The two highlights of Auckland for me were Mt. Eden and Waiheke Island. Mt. Eden was a few minutes from my hostel and provided some amazing views of Auckland and beyond. I asked a girl there to take a picture for me, and she obligingly took a photo of the skyline without me in frame (one, of course, I could have taken myself). After a quick tutorial she took one with me in it, featured below.

Waiheke Island is a 30 minute ferry ride north of Auckland, and was really quite astonishing. It’s a fairly big island and requires a bus or two to get all the way across. I decided to turn left out of the dock and walk along the beach, and was rewarded with a four hour hike where I didn’t see a single person and ran out of water halfway through.

A quick, semi-related side note here on tanning. Now, anyone near as pale as me knows that the original “base tan” is one of the most important stages. Not only does a base tan start to build a UV tolerance in the skin, but the original unveiling of your/my ivory torso can lead to others sniggering. (Which, by the way, is crap. Clearly I’m pale otherwise I wouldn’t be tanning.) So imagine my delight when I discovered my own private beach to lay out on, without fear of strangers’ mockery. I spent a solid hour on the beach, finishing up the Great Gatsby, and then proceeded to walk around the coast and bush for three hours. I only received a minor sunburn halfway down my back, where apparently my two hands couldn’t reach. This will now be known as the “lonely man’s burn”.

So Waiheke Island was fantastic, and I’ve thrown a couple of photos down below. If anyone finds themselves in Auckland this island should be atop their list, and be sure to give it a whole day since the place is so big. Also I saw about a dozen new birds, which I’ll try and include in a separate post later.

As I said in the beginning I’m at the Saltwater Lodge in Paihia. It’s a little windy but really warm and sunny, and apparently a t-shirt and shorts are all that is required when going out at night. I’m hoping to watch a Rugby Match on TV tonight (Chiefs v. Highlanders) and then I start work a 10 tomorrow morning. Sweet-as.

*I can’t figure out the photos exactly so I’ve just thrown them all together down below.