I really enjoy hitchhiking.
I’ve done it twice a day for the past three months so it’s got to the point where I know most of the people who stop to give me a ride.
There’s John who now takes me up the hill with his binoculars and shows me the surf breaks on the other side of the lagoon and points out the flora and fauna and bird species ‘round and about.
Then there’s the new partner of Solscape’s owner’s ex-wife, (if you’re still following me), the girl who has to hotwire her car every time we set off, Wendy and Dave, our neighbours (with the cows), Aaron the policeman, Murray the surf instructor, Crazy Richard the local nutcase, Hippy-artist-marine-biologist chick, Boy-racers who are invariably staying at the Bible Camp, Surfer Ben in his Jaguar, Greg in his work van, Kylie and Paul who have parties in their garage, Charlie and Erin who have parties in their Wigwam (Teepee, more properly, apparently), Tim and Suze from Karioi, Rock from Raglan surf school, American Bill and his dog, Lucy……
they probably see me and think 'shoot, she's seen us, now we have to give her a lift again...'
ho ho.
27 May 2005
NZ is ace...
I’m going ‘round to my mate Julia’s house tonight. We’re getting a few beers in and watching the netball on the telly. How cool is that? Netball on the telly.
Traffic Jamming Session...
Well.
Last night was good.
It was open mic night again and the Sistas of Solscape performed admirably well.
Suzanne, Laura and I sang ‘Weather with you’ by Crowded house. We chose to cover a Kiwi band so that people would feel all warm and friendly towards us even if we happened to murder the song itself… and it was a cunning plan, indeed. We had the audience singing along to the chorus and everything!
It was Laura’s first ever gig and I was dead impressed at how well she did- It took me over 5 years to pluck up the courage to play in front of folk and she only started guitar lessons 5 weeks ago… my star pupil!
I remained onstage and knocked out ‘Goodnight Elizabeth’ by the Counting Crows and ‘Outdoor Type’ by the Lemonheads; I guess it was ok because I was cheered at the end.
Although, it is pretty hard to tell if you are any good or not when the audience is made up entirely of tipsy Solscapers and residents from the friendliest town in the world…
However, the main excitement of the night was actually on the drive into town. In my role as designated driver I was in charge of transporting everyone else to and from the pub. It was the first time I’d ever driven at night and things got very interesting when I realized that I could only have the lights on full beam, or not at all. Rattling along twisty-turny roads at 6okmph, in either pitch-black or blinding the on-coming traffic, definitely gets the heart racing. Eventually, Laura leaned over the steering column and switched the damn things on.
Phew.
Needless to say I am yet to get the hang of this driving malarkey. I was so much better in my lessons in Manchester. I don’t know what to do with all these unlit open roads; give me a double roundabout or a slow-moving traffic jam any day.
Last night was good.
It was open mic night again and the Sistas of Solscape performed admirably well.
Suzanne, Laura and I sang ‘Weather with you’ by Crowded house. We chose to cover a Kiwi band so that people would feel all warm and friendly towards us even if we happened to murder the song itself… and it was a cunning plan, indeed. We had the audience singing along to the chorus and everything!
It was Laura’s first ever gig and I was dead impressed at how well she did- It took me over 5 years to pluck up the courage to play in front of folk and she only started guitar lessons 5 weeks ago… my star pupil!
I remained onstage and knocked out ‘Goodnight Elizabeth’ by the Counting Crows and ‘Outdoor Type’ by the Lemonheads; I guess it was ok because I was cheered at the end.
Although, it is pretty hard to tell if you are any good or not when the audience is made up entirely of tipsy Solscapers and residents from the friendliest town in the world…
However, the main excitement of the night was actually on the drive into town. In my role as designated driver I was in charge of transporting everyone else to and from the pub. It was the first time I’d ever driven at night and things got very interesting when I realized that I could only have the lights on full beam, or not at all. Rattling along twisty-turny roads at 6okmph, in either pitch-black or blinding the on-coming traffic, definitely gets the heart racing. Eventually, Laura leaned over the steering column and switched the damn things on.
Phew.
Needless to say I am yet to get the hang of this driving malarkey. I was so much better in my lessons in Manchester. I don’t know what to do with all these unlit open roads; give me a double roundabout or a slow-moving traffic jam any day.
I heartily dislike Kilroy Silk club news...
Katy sent me the best email, EVER!
here it is:
'Met a bloke the other night you would like. Some guy who works with Tom. Kilroy stood for our area in the election and this bloke happened to go to Asda when they were there campaigning. He told them they were a load of racist bastards then Kilroy shook his hand and tried to crush it so he got a bottle of water and squirted it in Kilroys face when he was doing a press conference. He got arrested for it but the police thought it was funny and told him what to say to just get a caution. Kilroy wrote to the police to complain, stupid idiot. You will be pleased to hear that he nearly lost his deposit in our area as he got so few votes, ha ha.'
Hahahahhahahahhahahahaha.
here it is:
'Met a bloke the other night you would like. Some guy who works with Tom. Kilroy stood for our area in the election and this bloke happened to go to Asda when they were there campaigning. He told them they were a load of racist bastards then Kilroy shook his hand and tried to crush it so he got a bottle of water and squirted it in Kilroys face when he was doing a press conference. He got arrested for it but the police thought it was funny and told him what to say to just get a caution. Kilroy wrote to the police to complain, stupid idiot. You will be pleased to hear that he nearly lost his deposit in our area as he got so few votes, ha ha.'
Hahahahhahahahhahahahaha.
Make a wish....
Yesterday morning we woke up to puppies!
I got up as normal, walked over to the stationhouse, looked at a rather shiny-eyed Laura and other grinning backpackers and then spotted the tiny things… Puppies!
Two of them.
Sooooooooooo cute.
It was like Christmas.
One for me, one for Laura.
Just what we hadn’t realized we had been wishing for.
Apparently, they had just shown up and without collars or any sign of a desperate owner searching for them.
We decided to keep them.
Well, at least until somebody more responsible than ourselves told us to give them back or something.
I had the brown one and Laura had the more boisterous black one.
I call mine ‘Finn’ and while I am telling the others why I’ve named him after the tiny warrior of Irish Legend, Laura decides to call hers ‘Hurley’.
Sweet.
We spend most of the morning taking photos and cradling our ‘babies’.
We try not to think about the fact that they obviously belong to someone else because they are far too healthy and clean to be strays.
We decide that it must just be good karma and that all those times we helped elderly people across the road, guided the blind, fed the homeless and cleaned up after filthy backpackers had resulted in puppies for us. Yay!
Besides, things have a peculiar way of working out in Raglan.
I was once walking back to the hostel with my surfboard and thinking that I was probably only good for lying in bed and reading for the rest of the day. Then I remembered that I had just finished the book I was reading and that there were no more good ones left at Solscape.
‘Awwwww, I wish I had a good book. Maybe something like that Bob Dylan autobiography that had such awesome reviews… Ho hum, I’ll have to go into Hamilton and find a bookshop…’
I collapsed in a chair in the lounge and not two minutes later, a nice Welsh bloke called John Broderick hands me a book.
“It’s Chronicles, by Bob Dylan. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
Spooky…..
Then we want a hairdresser to arrive and tend to our scruffy barnets. Lo and behold, he arrives the next day.
I want some ice-cream and there is some Neapolitan on the ‘free food’ shelf, a lift home from netball and Kate drives by, picks me up and brings me to her outdoor spa to relax those achy muscles, countless bottles of beer left by forgetful guests, perfect party outfits for free from the dump, thermal underwear when I am cold, the list goes on and on.
Surely the puppies are only further proof that Raglan is the greatest place on earth?
Needless to say, the pups are from next door and we have to give them back.
We feel strangely empty inside, bereft of our little ones.
At least we have the photos.
And now we have an excuse to jump the fence and get to know the neighbours.
I’ve wanted to see what goes on over there for ages…
I got up as normal, walked over to the stationhouse, looked at a rather shiny-eyed Laura and other grinning backpackers and then spotted the tiny things… Puppies!
Two of them.
Sooooooooooo cute.
It was like Christmas.
One for me, one for Laura.
Just what we hadn’t realized we had been wishing for.
Apparently, they had just shown up and without collars or any sign of a desperate owner searching for them.
We decided to keep them.
Well, at least until somebody more responsible than ourselves told us to give them back or something.
I had the brown one and Laura had the more boisterous black one.
I call mine ‘Finn’ and while I am telling the others why I’ve named him after the tiny warrior of Irish Legend, Laura decides to call hers ‘Hurley’.
Sweet.
We spend most of the morning taking photos and cradling our ‘babies’.
We try not to think about the fact that they obviously belong to someone else because they are far too healthy and clean to be strays.
We decide that it must just be good karma and that all those times we helped elderly people across the road, guided the blind, fed the homeless and cleaned up after filthy backpackers had resulted in puppies for us. Yay!
Besides, things have a peculiar way of working out in Raglan.
I was once walking back to the hostel with my surfboard and thinking that I was probably only good for lying in bed and reading for the rest of the day. Then I remembered that I had just finished the book I was reading and that there were no more good ones left at Solscape.
‘Awwwww, I wish I had a good book. Maybe something like that Bob Dylan autobiography that had such awesome reviews… Ho hum, I’ll have to go into Hamilton and find a bookshop…’
I collapsed in a chair in the lounge and not two minutes later, a nice Welsh bloke called John Broderick hands me a book.
“It’s Chronicles, by Bob Dylan. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
Spooky…..
Then we want a hairdresser to arrive and tend to our scruffy barnets. Lo and behold, he arrives the next day.
I want some ice-cream and there is some Neapolitan on the ‘free food’ shelf, a lift home from netball and Kate drives by, picks me up and brings me to her outdoor spa to relax those achy muscles, countless bottles of beer left by forgetful guests, perfect party outfits for free from the dump, thermal underwear when I am cold, the list goes on and on.
Surely the puppies are only further proof that Raglan is the greatest place on earth?
Needless to say, the pups are from next door and we have to give them back.
We feel strangely empty inside, bereft of our little ones.
At least we have the photos.
And now we have an excuse to jump the fence and get to know the neighbours.
I’ve wanted to see what goes on over there for ages…
Beard-stroking moment #2...
Someone told me to ‘go home and get a job’.
I said ‘envy is a terrible thing, you know.’
I didn’t bother going into the fact that I’ve been working the whole time I’ve been traveling, that travel is not the same as ‘holiday’ and that it was none of his business how I live my life anyway.
Life is what you make of it, it’s who you meet, what you learn and how you act- not what status your career holds or what possessions you own.
So there.
And he didn’t even wash-up his own dishes.
Loser.
I said ‘envy is a terrible thing, you know.’
I didn’t bother going into the fact that I’ve been working the whole time I’ve been traveling, that travel is not the same as ‘holiday’ and that it was none of his business how I live my life anyway.
Life is what you make of it, it’s who you meet, what you learn and how you act- not what status your career holds or what possessions you own.
So there.
And he didn’t even wash-up his own dishes.
Loser.
25 May 2005
Baby 2, Sal 0...
I awake to a more than full bladder and the sound of rain beating down on my tin roof. I’ll have to make a run for it. The distance between room and toilet is only 20m, so I reckon I can probably manage to get there and back without the need for a jacket…
Only problem being that today the door is locked, meaning that I have to slip and slide around to the other entrance, 20m further away.
Soaked to the skin, I enter the kitchen/lounge area and am greeted with the delicious sight of nappy-changing, midway through. Due to my own urgent toilet needs, I ignore the flagrant disregard for hostel etiquette and make a mental note to never go on holiday with a toddler.
By the time I return to the kitchen and pour out my Fruit & Fibre, there’s no sign of baby or parents, just their lingering scent.
I am tucking into my tasty, yet healthy, cereal when I notice that the dirty nappy has been left, open, just outside the door. Nice. Just what I wanted to see first thing in the morning.
The kid comes into view, running around the deck area with no pants on, dirty face, snotty nose and grimy hair. She proceeds to investigate the contents of her nappy.
My breakfast wants to defy gravity and the muscles of my alimentary canal -I can feel it preparing to launch itself up my throat...
Still no sign of the parents. I look around at the similarly green-faced backpackers. We’ve all seen it. Guess it’s up to me then, the only employee of Solscape present, to do something about it.
The offending nappy is dispatched using the inside-out plastic bag trick.
Morning has broken…
Only problem being that today the door is locked, meaning that I have to slip and slide around to the other entrance, 20m further away.
Soaked to the skin, I enter the kitchen/lounge area and am greeted with the delicious sight of nappy-changing, midway through. Due to my own urgent toilet needs, I ignore the flagrant disregard for hostel etiquette and make a mental note to never go on holiday with a toddler.
By the time I return to the kitchen and pour out my Fruit & Fibre, there’s no sign of baby or parents, just their lingering scent.
I am tucking into my tasty, yet healthy, cereal when I notice that the dirty nappy has been left, open, just outside the door. Nice. Just what I wanted to see first thing in the morning.
The kid comes into view, running around the deck area with no pants on, dirty face, snotty nose and grimy hair. She proceeds to investigate the contents of her nappy.
My breakfast wants to defy gravity and the muscles of my alimentary canal -I can feel it preparing to launch itself up my throat...
Still no sign of the parents. I look around at the similarly green-faced backpackers. We’ve all seen it. Guess it’s up to me then, the only employee of Solscape present, to do something about it.
The offending nappy is dispatched using the inside-out plastic bag trick.
Morning has broken…
Later that day…
As I head over to clean the Summer House, I begin to suspect that someone might be having a laugh at my expense. The grass is covered in poop. Not human this time, but doggy. Fantastic.
As I’m bent over picking up the last of Fidoe’s deposits, I wave a cheery goodbye to the three Irish fellas who have been staying. I decide to be friendly even if they did make a lot of noise last night and were rude to me when I told them to be quiet.
I’m en route to cottage number two when Suzanne calls to me from the office,
“Those Irish guys have left without paying!”
My tension levels are beginning to rise. I saw those thieving so-and-so’s just five minutes ago and they were nice as pie. Aghhhhhhh, I hate it when that happens.
But then I have an idea…
Raglan is a small town. There is only one place where you can get coffee and a fry-up…Aqua Velvet. And it just so happens that Solscape resident, Laura, works there.
I tell Suzanne that she should probably give Laura a call and see if the outlaws are eating at Aqua V.
“They’re standing right in front of me.” Laura reports.
Ace.
Laura gives them a lecture about Raglan being too small a place to pull these kinds of stunts and that if they ever want to come back here they should settle the bill right now.
Sure enough those good-for-nothing hung-over hoodlums cough up.
Detective Sal returns to her toilet bowl cleaning, whistling a familiar tune, “Instant Karma’s gonna get you…”
As I’m bent over picking up the last of Fidoe’s deposits, I wave a cheery goodbye to the three Irish fellas who have been staying. I decide to be friendly even if they did make a lot of noise last night and were rude to me when I told them to be quiet.
I’m en route to cottage number two when Suzanne calls to me from the office,
“Those Irish guys have left without paying!”
My tension levels are beginning to rise. I saw those thieving so-and-so’s just five minutes ago and they were nice as pie. Aghhhhhhh, I hate it when that happens.
But then I have an idea…
Raglan is a small town. There is only one place where you can get coffee and a fry-up…Aqua Velvet. And it just so happens that Solscape resident, Laura, works there.
I tell Suzanne that she should probably give Laura a call and see if the outlaws are eating at Aqua V.
“They’re standing right in front of me.” Laura reports.
Ace.
Laura gives them a lecture about Raglan being too small a place to pull these kinds of stunts and that if they ever want to come back here they should settle the bill right now.
Sure enough those good-for-nothing hung-over hoodlums cough up.
Detective Sal returns to her toilet bowl cleaning, whistling a familiar tune, “Instant Karma’s gonna get you…”
Barking mad...
There’s a Swiss-German couple staying at the hostel. They speak German. Their dog speaks English.
(Well, they speak to it in English and it seems to understand what they want him to do, anyway.)
I ask if it is because it is an English breed. They look at me as if I am a bit loopy, or dim, or both.
“Of course not! It is because our other dog speaks English, too.”
(Well, they speak to it in English and it seems to understand what they want him to do, anyway.)
I ask if it is because it is an English breed. They look at me as if I am a bit loopy, or dim, or both.
“Of course not! It is because our other dog speaks English, too.”
Would you like some cheese with that whine?
Top 5 comments from disgruntled guests, ‘I enjoyed my stay but…’
· The hot water is very hot.
· It’s dark at night.
· It rained a lot.
· Why is the webcam blank? (It was night-time…)
· You didn’t tell me I needed to wear shoes.
· The hot water is very hot.
· It’s dark at night.
· It rained a lot.
· Why is the webcam blank? (It was night-time…)
· You didn’t tell me I needed to wear shoes.
007...
I’m sitting on a bench overlooking the point break.
The theme tune to James Bond is selected by the shuffle function on my Ipod.
A sporty Jag pulls into the lookout point behind me.
A jet-ski powers into sight around the headland.
A Helicopter whirrs overhead.
“What’s going on?”
I’m alone in my confusion.
I look down at my mud-caked flip-flops and sweaty running gear and relax.
I’m too manky to be the Bond girl so I can stay sitting on my arse, enjoying the sunset.
Nice.
The theme tune to James Bond is selected by the shuffle function on my Ipod.
A sporty Jag pulls into the lookout point behind me.
A jet-ski powers into sight around the headland.
A Helicopter whirrs overhead.
“What’s going on?”
I’m alone in my confusion.
I look down at my mud-caked flip-flops and sweaty running gear and relax.
I’m too manky to be the Bond girl so I can stay sitting on my arse, enjoying the sunset.
Nice.
Karioi's story...
here's the myth behind everyone’s favourite mountain, Karioi…
Karioi was a beautiful girl and she landed a very handsome fellow as her husband. Unfortunately, her younger sister, Pirongia, (the mountain down the road), stole this dude from her. When Karioi found out she kicked the man out into the ocean, where he still is today in the form of a rocky island down the coast. Sweet.
Karioi was a beautiful girl and she landed a very handsome fellow as her husband. Unfortunately, her younger sister, Pirongia, (the mountain down the road), stole this dude from her. When Karioi found out she kicked the man out into the ocean, where he still is today in the form of a rocky island down the coast. Sweet.
Competitive? moi?
New Zealand has re-awakened my competitive spirit. I thought I’d got over the whole one-upmanship of yesteryear’s’ school sports days, pool comps and in-car quizzes, but it seems I have not. My friend Laura is trying to keep fit. So am I. Whenever she comes back from a run or a surf looking rosy and toned, I’m filled with a deep, deep need to exercise.
We tried to go for a run together once, let’s just say it won’t happen again.
Anyway, a couple of weeks ago she came into the station house looking particularly smug and sporting her running gear… Oh, no. I had the creeping suspicion that she might have exceeded the Whale Bay and back running record… (set by me, of course)
She had run all the way into town! Aghhhhhhh! That’s 6km of windy, up-and-downy tarmac and grit road.
However, she had then picked up the car from the garage and driven back the mainly uphill journey home…
Hmmmmmmmm… I’m going to have to run to town and then see how far I can run back.
I wait for a suitably cool and dreary day.
It arrives the very next Tuesday.
I attach ipod to ears, rucksack containing water, sweater and camera (I need to upload a photo to the internet) to back and trainers to quivering feet.
I’m ready.
Off I go, and at a fairly impressive pace, or so I would like to think.
I run all the way to town, only stopping once to help marshal a frisky horse away from the dangers of the main road into the relative safety of a cow field full of irritable Herefordshire beef.
And the run wasn’t that bad, even.
I pop into the internet place. Slightly aware that I might be more than a little fragrant I sit far away from the other patrons. Photo uploaded, I head back to the road.
It starts to rain, but to be honest it’s a relief from the humidity and accumulated body heat…
About 45 minutes later, I am negotiating the steep driveway up to the hostel. I bloomin’ well did it, I ran the whole way back…
And that’s 12 km!
Read it and weep, sister!
We tried to go for a run together once, let’s just say it won’t happen again.
Anyway, a couple of weeks ago she came into the station house looking particularly smug and sporting her running gear… Oh, no. I had the creeping suspicion that she might have exceeded the Whale Bay and back running record… (set by me, of course)
She had run all the way into town! Aghhhhhhh! That’s 6km of windy, up-and-downy tarmac and grit road.
However, she had then picked up the car from the garage and driven back the mainly uphill journey home…
Hmmmmmmmm… I’m going to have to run to town and then see how far I can run back.
I wait for a suitably cool and dreary day.
It arrives the very next Tuesday.
I attach ipod to ears, rucksack containing water, sweater and camera (I need to upload a photo to the internet) to back and trainers to quivering feet.
I’m ready.
Off I go, and at a fairly impressive pace, or so I would like to think.
I run all the way to town, only stopping once to help marshal a frisky horse away from the dangers of the main road into the relative safety of a cow field full of irritable Herefordshire beef.
And the run wasn’t that bad, even.
I pop into the internet place. Slightly aware that I might be more than a little fragrant I sit far away from the other patrons. Photo uploaded, I head back to the road.
It starts to rain, but to be honest it’s a relief from the humidity and accumulated body heat…
About 45 minutes later, I am negotiating the steep driveway up to the hostel. I bloomin’ well did it, I ran the whole way back…
And that’s 12 km!
Read it and weep, sister!
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