Rugby, volcanoes and alpacas

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  Te Horo, North Island, New Zealand
Thursday, February 11, 2010

Kia ora J

It's now been just over three weeks since we arrived in New Zealand, and I’m falling in love with it J Since I last wrote, we’ve spent a week in Auckland, mostly taken up by trying to sort out what the hell we were doing here, applying for jobs and braving the rain, and the past two weeks travelling around the north island, grateful that Auckland really isn’t the best place in New Zealand (despite being the fourth largest city in the world, apparently. Kiwis are full of these little facts about New Zealand having the 'second biggest’ something in the Southern Hemisphere, or the ‘second longest’ something in the world ... it’s a pity they never come first, because it’s a far more spectacular country to look at than Australia, and they seem to have the biggest and best of everything).

So, in the past two weeks we have dug ourselves our own spas at Hot Water Beach (where the hot springs are under the sand and once the tide’s low at night the locals go down and have a beer in their own hot water sand pit); swum in the coldest water I’ve ever felt at KiteKite waterfall – the challenge is to touch the wall behind the fall, but it’s impossible because it’s so cold you can’t actually breathe; Wayne learned the Haka and I learned the Poi when we stayed with a Maori family at Makatu (I even got to be leader of the ladies and had to say something in Maori before the dance, which I’ve subsequently forgotten L Lucky for me, being the leader didn’t involve being the best singer); we spent a day in the hot spring spas at Rotorua (which smells like eggs); we trekked the 19Km Tongariro Crossing and collapsed from exhaustion at the other end, but it was so worth it – you get 3000 meters up and there are emerald lakes at the top of the volcanoes, complete with steaming sulphur coming out of them. At the weekend, we covered ourselves head to toe in face paint and went to the Wellington 7s – an amazing experience which seemed to have not a whole lot to do with rugby (lucky for Scotland!) and far more to do with having a party in the stands (all well and good, but you can tell this has irked some proper rugby fans – even we were getting annoyed with the people in front of us trying to start a Mexican wave during the final  - they were wondering why nobody was joining in ...). More important than any of that, however, was that we made our own Scotland flag – something which presented the biggest test to our travelling relationship yet! For some reason there was not a Scotland flag to be found in Wellington the days prior to the 7s, so, being enthusiastic supporters, we bought some blue and white material and a sewing kit and stayed up until 2.30 a.m. the night before sewing this bloody flag together. It was definitely the best one there on the day.

So at the moment, I’m typing this with some very sore hands, rashes up both arms and possibly a strained left wrist. Reason being, Wayne and I have started work on a small organic farm, and have spent the past three days weeding more than 400 olive trees (if, in any world, this sounds like fun, trust me, it’s not – every time I close my eyes I see weeds).  We left Wellington the day after the 7s and made our way to Te Horo, a tiny place that’s basically just a whole load of small farms. The place we are at – Ammara – is a 16 acre farm with a B&B, an olive grove, apples, pears, quinces, a whole heap of vegetables, a tiny vineyard, a stream that runs through it all and, most importantly, three alpacas (Tina, Maria and Choco), a Pukeko called Otis, a dog called Hollie, ducks, chickens, cats and a pair of South African pensioners who take you into their home and feed you bagels and cream cheese (as long as you make your bed in the morning).

So basically we decided that, rather than get bar jobs somewhere boring most likely serving people from the UK, we wanted to save/make money doing something different. So we joined this organisation called WWOOFing. It stands for Willing Workers On Organic Farms, and sounds a bit hippyish but it’s not. The reason you have to be willing is because you don’t get paid (I have thought about this while pulling weeds from olive tree number 304). However, you do get a comfy bed, three meals a day (and good ones at that – our hosts are total foodies and keep plying us with beer and wine) and a chance to meet people who actually live, work, and are from, this country. I mentioned the pensioners from South Africa – these are the parents of one of our WWOOF hosts, and it’s their house where we are staying. Our hosts, Adrienne and Keith, from NZ, live at the other end of the farm, and run the B&B and the farm, so basically we’re staying in the granny flat.

Anyway, basically you are their skivvy for a couple of weeks in exchange for food and shelter, which actually works out good for us because we aren’t spending a penny and are gaining lots of experience (however, this by no means I will ever be good at gardening). The only concerning thing is that I fear Wayne and I are turning into pensioners. Our house hosts, Roland and Norma, spend most of the day watching old episodes of Eastenders on TV. Although this doesn’t sound very interesting, it’s hugely entertaining, particularly because they both have different levels of deafness, and therefore watch the TV while wearing headphones connected to it, each at a different sound level. That means two things – 1. We spend the evenings giggling at them shouting at each other over the silence of the TV, and 2. We can’t watch TV, which means we spend the evening giggling at them watching it, while sitting around reading books from 9pm every night, hence, we are turning into pensioners ourselves.

So that’s life here – hard core partying all the way at the moment. It’s hard work, but it’s also pretty cool to do something I’d never do at home*. Plus, I now know something I’m definitely going to do once I’m home – buy an alpaca – they are so friendly you can even play rugby with them and take them on a lead for walks, or just let them eat your grass – perfect.

Well, it’s rolling on 9.30pm, so I’d better hit the sack – I have to get up early to clear pine trees from the driveway ...

Over and out x

* Dad, I hope I’m making myself clear – I’m still completely useless at gardening and do not want to take up this venture once I’m home.

Ps. I apologise to anyone who’s fallen asleep due to the length of this – as you might have gathered, I have some time on my hands in the evenings ...

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