A Sneak Preview of Whats to Come...

A new place to call home...

The Emerald Forest

Back now from a month spent in the Northland sub‐tropical rainforest with a great family(phew) including three kids, 1 dog, 14 chickens, and a guinea pig in an off‐grid home with solar electricity and sole use of rain water. It was a great month overall, and I was sad to go as I adapted to the new and exciting bush life quite easily. The dinner of my first evening was interrupted by what was made into a family event of “possum plucking.” Possums are nonnative pests that pose a serious threat to NZ’s biodiversity, able to wipe out entire species of trees, plants, and birds. They are EVERYWHERE and therefore the murdering of them is greatly encouraged. Plus, possum fur is warm and makes great sweaters over here in NZ,so the fur is actually bought for a pretty good price by local retailers, thus encouraging a culture of kiwi family possum murderers. Anyhow, I was introduced to this first hand after one had been caught in a trap outside the kitchen window and the dad proceeded to shoot it in the head and bring it inside for all the kids to pluck. A few moments later after a good hand‐washing, the family resumed back to the dinner table letting the dog happily rip apart the carcass outside the door. “Welcome to our home,” the dad said. Apparently a German girl left the next day after witnessing her first possum plucking. I, however found this quite hilarious and was eager to learn more of whatever this family's home had to offer.
My living quarters were in a wee little sleepout under green tropical canopy. No electricity,but a hammock alongside a bubbling stream kept my off‐hours occupied. My days were spent doing the never‐ending laundry and cleaning, gardening, and most of all-cooking in the kitchen. I made evening meals, always had a pot of soup made, learned to make sourdough and other breads, made kefir (a dairy culture like yogurt), biscuits, pies and cakes, sauerkraut and jams. While I wasn’t busy being a domestic goddess, I helped feed the chickens, take care of a worm farm (liquid fertilizer yumminess), take the family’s new puppy on stream walks in the bush, and take care and look after the kids. The kids were cool, and I be‐friended 8‐yr old Ruby early on in my stay when I helped comfort her after she realized one of her pet chickens was missing, only to be told by her parents that the chicken dinner they had the week before did not come from the store (ironically the chicken’s name was ‘Fingers’).
My favorite WWOOFing duty was helping bring in the family’s supply of fish. The family lived 10 minutes away from one of the best fishing spots in NZ, and therefore maybe the world, and their diet revolved around eating a LOT of fish. For those of you that know me, if I had known this little tidbit of information…lets just say I probably would not have chosen this family. But my dis‐like of fish was transformed after going through the process of catching the fish, preparing it, and eating what I caught the same day..sometimes just a few hours later. My first day fishing (and first time fishing ever), I managed to catch 4 descent‐sized fish, all while cringing at their brute strength to hold themselves in the water and their croaking noises once they were caught. I had my host pierce my hook with oozy squid guts for bait and politely thanked him each time before I threw my line in the water. Our catchings that day supplied the family’s food for two weeks, allowing me just enough time to get accustomed to eating fish and by the next time we went out, I was no longer a scaredy cat and didn’t mess around. I put all my focus into feeling the slightest tug on my line, prepared to reel up a big one, willing the water gods to surrender up some fleshy meat. Our boat must have been giving out some serious hunter‐gatherer vibes because my host, his friend and I caught so many fish we had to throw a huge amount back. At one point, my host’s friend struggled for 15 minutes to reel in what we were hoping to be a gigantic king fish, but to their dismay and my horror, he slowly reeled up a 40lb shark. I jumped around the boat like a whimpering 6 yr old as they worked together to hold open the shark’s mouth and unhook the line. We let it go of course and watched it swim back into the sea. It was quite an experience to be hunting your own meat. Catching and supplying this family's meat made quite an impact on me, and it was pretty amazing to be in an area where the natural resources easily supplied your food.
The area of Northland is one of the most heavily Maori populated areas in New Zealand. The Maori and Pakeha (white, or European) cultures are extremely interwoven up North with many Maori immersion schools accompanying the normal school district, street signs,local businesses and public buildings all in Maori, and Marae’s dotting every neighborhood and area of land from beach to bush to farmland. Rather than continue to oggle at all the parents with fully‐tattooed faces (called moko) at Ruby’s gymnastics practices, I got my hosts to drop me off on a local marae for a flax‐weaving workshop weekend. Twenty‐or‐so other women and I sat around the common house tables and wove, wove, wove for an entire weekend. Most of these women were accomplished weavers, and some of them‐the top in the country. And then there was me with no experience. I spent hours trying to manipulate my baskets into something worth using, or looking at for that matter. But with one‐on‐one help from a woman named Pere, I managed to learn the basics and make some pretty nice things. They even decided to photograph my work and my hands step-by-step weaving for a traditional flax weaving book they were putting together. They said it was okay because the pictures will be in black and white, so my pakeha hands will not really matter. Cool, black and white or not, my hands will be published..fine with me! (Pictured is Pere and I sitting together *note the MASSIVE piece of greenstone we’re leaning against!) It was an amazing experience to be amongst these women. They sang songs in Maori and spoke in a cross between Maori and English. They also listened to Michael Jackson, told crude jokes, and swore like fishermen. I took breaks between my weaving to laugh at loud at these women’s sense of humor. Every minute spent with them was fantastic...that is until I piled into a small room with them at night. These strong, powerful, Maori women all snored like grizzly bears. Oh well,I left that weekend fully‐sleep deprived, but with a fine set of weaving skills, some nice looking bags and baskets, and extremely happy that I got to experience a bit of the indigenous culture that is so rich and fully part of New Zealand. When I wasn’t on fishing boats, maraes, or helping out in the home, I basically just drooled at how beautiful everything was. Northland is secluded, has very few people, and the land is virtually untouched except for a few generations of farmers owning it since Maori rule. My host’s home was surrounded by some of the area’s largest pa’s (Maori villages), and the bush trails that I walked the dog on every day were trails that had existed for over 200 years. The Maori were an extremely violent people, and my hosts said that there are certain places in the woods where your hair curls on end where Maori warriors probably butchered the colonists (the Maori invented trench war‐fare and beat the Europeans in battle so many times the English were forced to almost gave up). I tried not think about this as I sat outside shivering in the dark with my camera photographing the night sky. Actually, the night sky was so beautiful, the last thing I was thinking about were ghosts of warriors, and rather how amazing it is was to be witnessing picture perfect constellations over head.
I made sure to travel to the very tip of the country while I was in the area. Cape Reinga is special because it is where the Tasman Sea, on the left, and Pacific Ocean on the right meet,causing tumultuous 20ft wave crashing of the two bodies of water on a rough day. An added bonus, to get there you drive along the state highway called 90 Mile Beach.
This is an actual beach used as a highway by tour buses and locals who follow the tides(though there is a plethora of car doors sticking out of the sand where entire cars were swallowed by the tide and quicksand streams). God, I love New Zealand. I hopped on a tour bus up to the Cape with another German WWOOFer girl I had met, and enjoyed the most beautiful highway I have ever seen. Cape Reinga was the cherry on top though, with its sheer cliffs and breathtaking views. Cape Reinga is also considered to be one of the most sacred places in NZ to the Maori, and it is said that the spirits of Maori people travel to the Cape after they die and enter down into the roots of the 500 yr old Pohutukawa tree (you can just see it in the picture) and travel back to their Native land of Hawaii (the Maori originally sailed over from Hawaii…who knew?)The German girl and I both talked about how laid‐back New Zealand culture is slowly melting away every cell of rigidness in our bodies, and that we only hope we can fully bring this effortless, calm‐kiwiness back into our lives back home. Speaking of home, I guess I should let those of you who don’t already know, that New Zealand has won me over for the entirety of the year, and that my ticket is booked for December. That means I’ve still got 6 months ahead of me, woohoo! Of course I’ve got that nagging voice that tells me I need to be home getting a job yada yada, but its nothing compared to how happy I am doing what I am doing. I am learning more than I ever have in my life about myself and about life…(but I’ll leave my philosophical ramblings for another time) So guess what I’m doing next?? After 2 weeks of chill time here in Wanganui, consisting of lots of sleeping and doing nobody elses dishes but my own, I’m headed back down to Diamond Harbour on the South Island. I’m living with the same family I stayed with before,but this time staying with them for 3 months or so through the winter. This is great for me because I’m growing a little tired of being on the move all the time, and this family is great so I know I’ll be in good company (see earlier post to remember troll‐child Charlie and my favorite 7‐yr old Lucy). PLUS there’s an added bonus this time around… The family is affiliated with Mt. Cheeseman Skifield where the dad will be living full‐time. Thus, during the week I’ll help with the kids and then on the weekends I’m free to zip around the mountains of Middle Earth on a snowboard. I’ve also managed to get a ‘skinanny’ job for some of the time where I’ll be living up on the mountain playing with wee ones in the snow and snowboarding the Southern Alps on my off‐time. Not bad, eh? I’ll admit though, I am a little nervous about my snowboarding skills shaped by a few measly seasons at Greek Peak 6 years ago. I’ll let you know how that goes…
So there’s my month in a nutshell. It was great. I'm great. Enjoy your summer you Northern Hemispherians, and I’ll see you in the mountains.