Denny and Debbie's Little Big Adventure

Christchurch

We’ve become quite adept at Intercity, we’d thought getting the coach across the country would be a great way to see the landscapes and so far, that has paid off. We’re extra treated when our bus from Blenheim to Christchurch is a double decker and, you guessed it, we get top deck seats. Sadly not at the front though, that would be too good.

Arriving at 8pm we call a taxi to take us to our Airbnb which seems eerily quiet. Inside it feels lived in and, as we’re staying in a private room inside someone’s house, it feels like they should be. Our hunger helps us to overlook this and we order pizzas.

Our first interaction with Christchurch proper is Hagley park, which we walk through on our way into town on Saturday morning. Staying in a suburb called Avonhead, around an hours walk into town, the park is a thoroughfare which we use often. It is a huge space with sports facilities, a 12 hole golf course, several lakes, and the botanic gardens. Lunch is a delight of salad bar and bakery goods, we find a bench and chomp away. After we make our way into town.

It is a slightly off balancing thing walking around Christchurch and that is partly the recent history of the city and partly never interacting with a city in the same situation. The earthquakes in 2010 and 2011 have many reminders and memorials in the city, there’s a place where 185 chairs of all shapes and sizes rest, one for each person lost. There are plaques and already there is a museum. Yet what strikes us both Christchurch is seeing the areas waiting to be rebuilt, the history raw and exposed, the stories of them there for you to interpret. It is this rawness that makes Christchurch feel alive. In the shadow of this tragedy that the community of Christchurch, at least from the outside, appear to have pulled together. There are community hubs for bike repairs and tool sharing. The idea to do things for the betterment of a group of people and not to make a small population of the already wealthy more wealthy. Though this won’t catch on at home as wanting the trains to not be inaccessibly expensive is communism apparently.

Next stop is the museum. It feels a little underloved. Actually underloved is unfair. The best way to sum up the museum is that they still hang proudly their 1993 tourism award. And in 1993 when people were still using rubbing sticks together to make fire or something, the exhibits probably felt fresh and exciting. Locals probably gasped at such inventions as the wheel, quietly hoping the sun god wouldn’t curse their harvest this year. There is a token interactive screen in a corner clearly bought by someone that never thought it would catch on.

I’ve just remembered my favourite moment at the museum. Whilst we’re there, Tilly is slightly ahead of me looking at a different exhibit. I notice out of the corner that someone is talking to Tilly, they’re clearly gesturing. Tilly appears confused. I edge closer, intrigued. Then I hear it and everything becomes clear. This person, an older lady, appears to think Tilly may speak the same language she does. Gesturing more desperately, she doesn’t understand why Tilly isn’t comprehending. Tilly is looking more and more like a person that is having mandarin furiously spoken at her by someone confusing her to be of Asian heritage. This wouldn’t be so funny if it was the first time on the trip that this has happened. It is not dear reader.

The next day we decide we want to get a good look at the Botanical gardens. We see a tree in a cage, there are fewer than 100 of these mature trees left. I’ve never thought about specific tree species going extinct in the same way. We grab a quick lunch in the cafe there.

Next on the list is souvenir shopping. Stumbling upon a small independent market, we strike. Boxing off 80% of our gifts in less than an hour, the others we’d already bought or knew where to get them, we are smug. But we don’t have too much time for smug because it’s tram time.

Tilly is very excited to go on the tram, I indulge her. Getting on the tram hype throughout the day. The tram in Christchurch is actually really good, maybe I’m the tram fan now. What a twist. It is a 50 minute journey around the central city area complete with commentary from the driver and seats that you switch from one way to the opposite. Honestly the olden times ey? Wild. (Tilly has just got super defensive reading this over my shoulder).

In retrospect, Monday seems a really odd day. thinking about presenting the events out of context seem strange. Here’s what happened.

Up early for the bus into town. We booked this trip while we were in New Plymouth and boy I am stoked. Its an 8:30am arrival at the museum for a pick up. Arriving, the bus is already there, bingo. The journey to Kaikoura is 3 hours and our driver, Barry, is determined to monologue his way through. There is 8 of us and I, like Barry, am determined also, I’m determined to laugh at all of his punchlines because he’s really making an effort to make this enjoyable even if his monologue at times is really odd.

Lunch is at 12:30, both of us having ice creams (not just ice creams to clarify), before arriving at the whale watching station at 1:15, Why is lunch important to note? HOLD ON DEAR READER.

Whale watching is brilliant. Straight out of the dock, 5 minutes in, the ‘narrator’ tells us that they’ve had sightings of Orcas in the area. ORCAS. Actual Killer whales. AND WE SEE SO MANY! There’s a pod, hunting. We get to watch actual Killer Whales actually hunting in the actual wild. This is incredible. I am constantly grinning throughout. Making the kind of ohhs and ahh sounds my Mum does when watching fireworks. We’re with the Orcas for around an hour, an hour! WITH REAL ORCAS!! REAL LIFE SHAMU UP IN HERE MINUS THE ANIMAL CRUELTY. GUILTLESS SHAMUS.

Off we scoot to the next place to spot some more nature. Seeing lots of birds, my favourite being the albatross because its bloody ginormous. Seeing Seals, looking out for a humpback we never spot. It’s all action. The final hype mammal is the Hector’s dolphin. It is the smallest species of dolphin, it is endangered, and has a rounded dorsal fin instead of the pointy one most dolphins have. They are super adorable but a bugger to take pictures of, the water isn’t as clear as where the Orcas where and the dolphins just pop up wherever. They’re amazing though, they only live in seas around New Zealand and they have an 8 year breeding cycle.

Tilly is having a great time too. Tilly also suffers from seasickness. Tilly makes it all the way to the journey back into the harbour before the seasickness takes over. Thankfully holding Tilly’s scarf, a makeshift sick bag, and then holding the very well used sick bag, is not enough to take away from the excitement of the boat trip. After a quick stop to see more Seals, we both fall asleep for the bus journey back.

For our last day in Christchurch, we’ve booked the gondolas. We need to take the bus across town as its not within walking range. The gondola is good fun, the weather could be clearer but its been cloudy the whole time we’ve been in Christchurch. At the top, we find out about The Time Tunnel and pick a short walk to go on. At the turning point of the walk, we have a mini photoshoot with Debbie and Denny.

The Time Tunnel is great. Its got everything, model Moas, a girl doing an R-P, cockney, New Zealand accent, and it leaves out Sir Edmund Hilary from the list of notable New Zealanders.

Back in town, we lounge in the park. Hagley park has been our favourite park of the trip. It is one of the main things that would encourage us to move to Christchurch. Although, just like other people we’ve spoken to, we couldn’t because of the quakes.

Going out for dinner on our last evening, the place we want to go on is a 40 minute walk away. It’s raining. We arrive for dinner drenched, but this vegan/veggie Chinese restaurant is so good we forget this. Walking back we reflect on how much we’ve loved our trip, it seemingly ebbing out in front of us.

Tapawera Days 8 – 12 and traveling to Christchurch

Our time in Tapawera is best summised by the lack of pictures below this text segment. It was a place that lacked activity worth documenting in that traditional method. Yet the activities we undertook and were part of are some of the most vivid memories of our time. in New Zealand Perhaps they’ll be better preserved in writing.

As a person that has spent nearly now all of their life not being able to ride a bike, you develop certain mechanisms to get through. Firstly you think of all cyclists as weirdos. Secondly you have a rehearsed “yes I never learned as a child” or something similar for the prying questions that usually follow people finding out. I understand that it is not the norm but I’d also like to communicate quite clearly that I have received more unsolicited cycling advise than any other area, apart from maybe in the ‘how men should act’ department.

I understand also that cycling is for some a basic skill, that you learn as children. Yet for others, so is a second language. So is sign language. And when people bring it up for the ‘banter’. Ugh. Yes haha I’ve not heard this before yes laugh it up you weasel.

Complaints aside. I’ve still always wanted to learn. Mostly because it’ll make life more convenient, it is another form of fitness I can practice, and also, just a tinsy bit of, throwing it in people’s faces. Shouting look I’m capable of growth. I find it weird that people are more comfortable with others not knowing how to swim – a lifesaving activity – than with a recreational activity.

The house was a great place to learn. Josie and Jeremy, because they’re brilliant, avoided the pitfalls of the usual tedious conversation. Josie said, yeah I’ve got a bike its in the shed, it might need some fuss but go for it. Go for it. Well I did. The seat was too tall for me and the road was a bumpy potholey lane. But I still went for it. By the end of my time at Stanley Brook, I was eager to get out every day and practice. Making the two kilometer journey to the fishing lodges for fun.

The sight of the nearby mountain, forever etched in my mind as the place I learned to ride.

And yes, I’m celebrating this. I deserve to celebrate this, because this, for me, is a win. I’m not going to hold back on feeling the joy of victory, even when in the grand context of all existence, this isn’t even a speck of dust. No one is going to take this pride away from me.

New Zealand’s soft power reach has, I would say, two major players. The Lord of the Rings film trilogy (I’ll keep my Hobbit film trilogy opinions to myself) and the All Blacks. People celebrate them globally, specifically tuning in to watch them and their famous Haka. An incredible advert for the Maori and the ideas of a bicultural nation.

The Rugby World Cup is on and we’ve lucked out. Jeremy and Josie are hosting a party for the New Zealand vs Namibia game. A group of their friends are coming over, there’s food, we’re given the information ‘help yourself to the beers’. Delicious.

I’d have been happy at this as a memory. This as a memory is already formed, it has its hook ‘I got to watch the all blacks with a group of Kiwis’. It’s there, done. However, it gets better. Whilst we’re at Jeremy and Josie’s, we find out that they’ve always got workaways. They’ve lived in the house for 3 years and they’ve had 10 days of not having people in the house. The house has plenty of rooms for hosting people. Petra, previously mentioned in the last blog, at this stage, has departed the house.

Enter Pierre. Pierre is French. Pierre is from Brittany. My only knowledge of Brittany is the ferry company that operates in my area. I learn, through Pierre, that Brittany is also famous for its unique pastry making style. Namely that they lash butter in absolutely everything. They love butter. Butter everywhere.

So now we’re not only watching the All Blacks treat Namibia like a dog treats its toys, absolutely shredding them. We’re now being treated to freshly made Brittany Crepes. Pierre spends, this isn’t an exaggeration, 3 hours in the kitchen making 40 Crepes while the rugby is on. Crepes. Beer. All Blacks rugby. Cultural experience? Nailed it.

Cultural experience. That is the highlight of the Workaway system. In our time at the three workaways. We’ve learned things we’d never have from staying in a hostel or hotel. We’ve had experiences we’d never have believed and made these memories, like learning to ride a bike, like sitting on the deck while the sun shines down and you throw stones for the dog to chase. Memories clear as the water here. Yes of course there are some downsides. You’re working on your holiday. I can see why that would be an unattractive proposition, especially on a shorter trip. Yet for us, the positives so vastly outweigh the negatives that we’ve mostly forgotten about them.

On our last day, we get a picture with Jeremy and Josie. We thank them for accommodating us. Josie drops us off at the lay-by. How we’ve changed since we were here before.

Back in Nelson for one night, we have a private room in a hostel which feels like the spare bed in your grandparents house. Very 50s. A design style for another era.

The next morning we’re on the bus again. Always on the move. Always wandering. Never lost.

Tapawera Days 1 to 7 – Walking and Working

Wellington is clear the morning we leave. It’s the day of the global climate strikes and we are getting the ferry to the South Island. Thankfully, it is a very straight forward process. The views from the ferry are excellent, the South Island proudly showing why it is thought of as the more rugged of the two.

Upon landing, we board the bus to Nelson. Checking in and going out for a short stroll before watching another couple of episodes of Stranger Things and sleeping. Up early again the next morning for our bus journey to Kohatu.

Kohatu isn’t where we’re staying, its the nearest place to the Workaway. As a place, it appears to be a roadside cafe and a lay-by. The closer the time gets to when we know we’re arriving there, the more Tilly and I notice that there, in terms of human settlement, isn’t a lot to arrive too.

Getting off the bus, we stand in the lay-by and, slightly nervously, start to make jokes about being in the middle of nowhere. As if intentionally to calm these nerves, one of our hosts, Josie, arrives in her car and we hop in. Josie very matter of factly informs us that we’re going over to her friends house to clip their goats toe-nails. Clipping and clearing the feet stop the goats from getting a kind of foot rot disease. Marvelous. You want cultural experience of South Island farming life? Go clip some goats toe nails.

Which would be a fair shout from me if this is actually what I did. However on the car journey there I mention that I play cricket. Jeremy, Josie’s partner and the other host, happens to be playing cricket this day and the team needs players. So we arrive at the friends farm, I hold one goat while it has its nails trimmed and then I’m off to play cricket, leaving Tilly behind – with her permission it was very important to add.

I turn up at the cricket, score 34 not out in a twenty20 match and am supping my second beer when Tilly arrives with Josie and the other workaway, Petra. Smug grin all over my face. In the afternoon, we sit with Josie and Jeremy’s friends on their farm and talk about the gun laws in New Zealand.

Is it difficult to think of things that haven’t been covered in the videos of our time in Tapawera. Plainly because we didn’t do a lot. We walked, taking in the incredible countryside in the area. We worked. We relaxed. It was such a peaceful time.

Something briefly touched upon in the video is our baking exploits. Over our time at the house, we baked two lots of brownies, a carrot cake, and a chocolate cake. The only major mishap of this was I, misunderstanding the instructions, put a tablespoon of baking soda into the chocolate cake instead of a teaspoon. Creating one very malty cake. Other than that though, we were successful and we thoroughly enjoyed it.

One of my favourite things about our trip were these moments where we’ve found something that we want to bring back to our every day lives. We’re nearly really set on the idea of baking regularly. I want to do more gardening at home – honestly 15 year old me is so disgusted by the adult I’ve become, the hours I spent talking smack about gardening in my heady younger days. These points of trying, learning new things that we like, about yourselves, about the way we want to practice our methods of living, are exciting. Moments of real growth, real newness.

Traveling and Exploring Wellington

An early scramble out of the house to catch the bus to Wellington, the weather is a little grisly and the route not so scenic as the last trip but this allows us to catch a little sleep without missing too much. The seven hour trip allows us to glimpse the many fields and green hills that litter the countryside. A lunch stop in Palmerston North allows David to fulfill his lifelong (since Rotorua) dream of eating in a Pita Pit, we know we’ve made the right choice when several of the other bus passengers pick it as ‘the old reliable’.

Back on the bus and not so hungry, we can appreciate the journey a little more.

The bus rumbles into Wellington, the weather has turned and its beautiful. Before getting off the bus its lovely and sunny and the water looks like a beautiful coloured glass. Once off the bus we realise why Wellington is famous for being windy. Its cold. Like chillingly cold. And all I’m thinking as this cold wind blasts through me is David’s words ‘its gonna be the coldest on the South Island’. Is that possible.

We check into our hostel which we booked so long ago that we had forgotten that we booked this place because it had free pancakes for breakfast and a free dinner too. Living the dream. And honestly I thought it would be the greatest hostel ever, except that at night we seemed to be plagued by a herd of elephants in the floor above whose hobbies seemed to include tap dancing, musical bumps and of course, the local’s favourite rugby. This constant stream of bumps and thuds played on throughout the night, making the vegetable pie and the promise of pancakes seem like a distant memory. I slept a little and David slept less.

Having grabbed a little leaflet the night before we have a vague idea of the things we want to cram into our mere two days in the capital we set off early after some slightly embarrassing pancakes that I’ve had to cook between two French groups who make it look like they’ve just put a slice of toast in the toaster. Bastards.

We head off across the town to catch the cable car up to the Botanic Gardens, I’m a little disappointed cos I was hoping it was one of the skyliner-y type things, instead its more of a tram or funicular with this funky light show in the tunnels up which ascends a steep hill that I’m grateful not to be climbing up.

We reach the top, theres only two other stops and the track isn’t long. At this terminus stop a gentleman asks the driver if the next stop is where the Botanic Garden is. It isn’t, its this stop and the track ends but we walk away and avoid the ensuing confusion. The gardens are really lovely and even for the capital it seems once more as if we might be on our own. We lose our way a couple of times but manage to stumble on to the best bits of the gardens. The first is an extinction garden, this is a garden full of plants that you will struggle to find growing on their own in the big wild world. The second is the peace flame. Now this is beautiful, if a little hard to discern at first. This garden was created as part of the promise to clear nuclear weapons from New Zealand. Inside a little stone lantern is the flame that burns to keep that promise.

Getting away from the beautiful in the political sense as well as the scenic we then climb up the bloody steep hill (the reason we got the cable car) to walk back to the top to return down the hill in the cable car… Makes sense I guess. David probably engineered this so I could walk of Jennie’s brownies. Bastard.

I suggest that we do this trail called the Southern walkway, it’s supposed to take you up to Mount Victoria and potentially see more Lord of the Rings based locations. It does not disappoint, aside from the unrelenting wind that Wellington is famed for, which actually relents a little, we walk alongside the waterfront to find the trail that leads up. On the way we see a few houses which actually have their own funiculars to access the house themself or their gardens. Honestly I couldn’t tell if this was genius or laziness, but as we started to ascend I realised it was pure necessity.

We eat lunch halfway up because I’m starving as well as struggling with the pure uphillness of it all. I claim its cos the view is so nice and it’ll be windier at the top. I was right on that. We get to the top and a girl has got out of her car just to ditch her Maccies bag before racing back to the haven of warmth. The view is lovely though but I don’t waste my time on that, I spend the majority of the time at the summit googling which filming locations are in walking distance. Turns out we are about five minutes from one. A good one too.

On my directions it tells me exactly how to get to the GET OFF THE ROAD QUICK sequence. It even tells me which trees I should be looking at and that if I wanna get real specific I should ask a local. We traipse down past alien abduction warning signs as well as a couple of benches which pay tribute to this iconic trilogy.

We find the spot and even though there’s been very few people throughout the trail at our moment of need a local happens to walk past and ask if we are looking for ‘the hobbit stuff’. He shows us exact points and which shot is from where and honestly did Gandalf send him cos he is incredible. After our helpful local wanders a safe distance off we start divvying up who is gonna reenact Frodo’s famous line. My argument that I’ve already embarrassed myself at Hobbiton doing Bilbo impressions falls on deaf ears as David says he did his Gollum impression at Te Mata. Which, I counter, no one asked him to do and he didn’t have a whole tour group egging him on… but apparently my whole personality is formed around my identity as a Hobbit, so its gonna be me and after all the criticisms of my performance that I got, I can’t believe I fell for that line.

We head back towards Wellington and decide to visit Te Papa the national museum. We could definitely have spent our full two days exploring each exhibit but we are limited to just two afternoons. We start with the nature exhibit and its such a clever and cool museum. They have the interactivity of the exhibits mastered, with enough engagement that the kids, David and I are all competing to see how volcanoes erupt, how to fish sustainably and how to tsunamis happen.

Te Papa nature gallipoli

next day

Weta

fish and chips

te papa part two

New Plymouth Days 5 to 12

In the second part of our time in New Plymouth, we don’t do a great deal. This isn’t a slight on New Plymouth, its a conscious choice that we’ve made to not rush around, forcing ourselves into activity. The decision is partly made because relaxing in Jennie’s house is so easy. Many afternoons we sit and read, or work on something. We’re happy with enjoying the sun and taking short walks.

During this period, we use the hot tub, which is an absurd luxury, several times. We’re cashing in on the offer of generosity, making it clear to Jennie to please let us know if we’re overstepping at any point.

On a Monday evening Jennie hosts ‘Round the Table’ where she invites her friends for dinner, trying to fill up all the seats round the table. This evening is made better by Jennie’s excellent cooking, the only dampener being the incredible dull vegetarian conversation Tilly and I endure (which I’m not going to elaborate on because its petty to moan about it here).

On Thursday evening, Jennie is away working in Hastings. We get fish and chips, beers, and Tilly goes for a vegetarian spring roll. We end the evening with beer in the hot tub. Feeling so wealthy and decedent. Embarrassed even.

Most of our work this week has been in Jennie’s gardening weeding. I get a go with a hedge trimmer at one stage, dangerous. On Friday we work at Jennie’s luxury retreat, which is $400 dollars a night, and is stunning. Sweeping sea views on the balcony, open plan kitchen diner with windows allowing you to see the view from any point in the room, a hot tub. Jennie reduces this fee for her friends and anyone that has mental health issues. People in need of rest and recuperation. The initial higher rate balancing out these other circumstances. Tilly and I can’t comprehend having the money to stay in such a place. Not because of the price, actually around £200 a night for a luxury stay isn’t, in the context of luxury stays, that much. We’re just not people to which this level of luxury is meant for. We see this on posh people’s instagram accounts and on TV shows with ‘Design’ in the name. Every now and then I have this thought which says, you know I know its an ethical problem but maybe becoming a war lord or a drugs kingpin is worth it to sit and read your book on this balcony all day. Its a level of luxury which almost contextualises why people don’t really care that they exploit the shit out of things/people/the planet to make big money. Credit to Jennie for not being one of those people.

At the weekend we climb Paritutu rock. Its a stereotyped sunny holiday day, there’s loads of people out on the walkways enjoying the weather. We walk all along the beach front walkway. We talk about how Paritutu is known locally as suicide rock. We talk about how the trip advisor reviews of Paritutu really stress how difficult the last part of it is to climb. We ignore them.

Paritutu rock is difficult to climb, especially the last part. The views are worth it however. Though Taranaki mountain is still under cloud, we take in the coastline until it stretches out of sight, the ocean behind us. The water in New Zealand is so perfectly blue you almost wonder if they’ve added the banned blue smartie colourant to it. We stay up here awhile and absorb it all in.

The reason Paritutu is difficult to climb up , and as we learn, more difficult and even scary to climb down, is its sheerness. The peak has to ascended by pulling yourself up a chain rope, assisting you with the rock climbing element of the task. Going down is far far worse, you’re now rock climbing whilst being confronted with the sheerness. Aggressively confronted, like a big dog is barking at you and you’re not sure how under control it is. We decide to go down abseil style. If we can’t see the drop, it doesn’t have to immediate us. Don’t look into the void approach. Very human approach.

Coming down is made comical when 3 year olds IN FLIP FLOPS overtake us going down facing outwards. There’s a point where it almost felt like a sketch show, that next an Elephant on a tricycle could come past faster. Still we make it down safely and walk back to the house. We hot tub and this time listen to the Lord of the Rings audiobook.

Our last evening falls on a Monday, making it ‘Round the Table’ again. There’s a slight line up change from the last one, another workaway has joined us. She’s vegan AND DOESN’T ENDURE THE SAME SCRUTINY WE DID, due to the other line up change being the main culprits not showing this week. THEY SAID MEAT-ATARIANS. THEY SAID WE’RE MEAT-ATARIANS. THAT ISN’T A THING. OKAY. MEAT-ATARIAN IS NOT A THING. YOU COULD AT LEAST SAY CARNIVORE AND MAKE SOME KIND OF SENSE AND YES I AM THIS PETTY YOU KNOW IT I KNOW IT, IT WAS ALWAYS GOING TO HAPPEN.

This other workaway, Jo, is lovely, she’s from Essex, and is somewhere in the late 40s early 50s age tick box. She’s a marine biologist specialising in Penguins, only that’s basically a hobby of hers and her actual career is in education. Pretty elite level hobby that.

This evening Jennie produces a Vegan lemon cake which is so good that I think yeah maybe I could go vegan. She announces to the table that it’s the first time she’s ever made a vegan cake. The cake is so delicious that I almost don’t think about how envious I am of people that make perfect things at the first attempt. Almost.

After dinner Teina shows us loads of videos of the national competition of Maori performance. Sorry if you’re reading this Teina and I describe this poorly. We watch videos as different tribes come together for a competition festival and perform Hakas, routines with Poi (I urge you to watch this on youtube), and other elements of traditional Maori dance/performance/tribal ritual. It’s a performance students dream. I worry a lot that when I’m engaging with Maori culture I’m fetishising it. I’m really fascinated by it and I think its because this is the first time I’ve had the chance to sit and chat with someone who gives you all the sides of it. Not just the government agreed presentation of culture. There’s so many elements of Maori culture that link to how I feel about humans existing in the world but I’m aware that I think these are interesting because they’re not my norm. I’m conscious as a heterosexual white British male to not observe Maori culture as a museum exhibition. To condemn it to history because I want to study it. Instead seeing it as just another culture in our world and not seeing it as some kind of other to my existence as normal. A story in the world as my culture is, no hierarchy. Just existence.

New Plymouth has been such a memorable experience, we’ve loved its parks, its abrupt mountain, town, sea layout. Spending time with Jennie and Teina has opened our eyes to ways to exist in the world that we like. Things we want to take back for our lives at home. We cannot thank them enough for their acts of shifting our perspective. Their kindness, generosity and comfort in sharing different aspects of themselves will be something we hold very dearly going forward.

New Plymouth Days 1 to 4: Settling in

The first thing we learn about New Plymouth is that the majority of New Zealanders don’t really understand why we’ve decided to go to New Plymouth. Most people, after we tell them we’re going, respond with ‘So what’s there then aye?’ I guess expecting us to say we’re staying with family or working. The idea of traveling to New Plymouth for pleasure surprises them.

Our initial thoughts when strolling along with 10k beach walkway, which we’re staying less than 30 seconds away, is why? New Plymouth seems lovely, big rolling surf and black sand beaches on one side and a beautiful snow capped mountain flanking the other. On our first day in New Plymouth we don’t have to work, bonus, as our host is away working. We walk into town and visit the local museum, which is large, we make the decision to come back when we’ve got more time. I nip into a bookshop, I’m after some New Zealand poetry and a Moari myths book, but they don’t have either. There’s another walkway, its a walkway town, we bimble along enjoying the ferns.

The house we’re staying in is impressive. When it was bought, in the 80s, it was the most expensive house in the area. The garden space along is impressive, add four bedrooms, swimming pool, hot tub (the locals call them a spa) and more natural light than England seems in a year, and you’ve got a recipe for where we’re staying. We feel like we’ve won the lottery. We’re staying, for free, in a massive house with a beautiful golden retriever called Rosie. All for a few hours gardening a day. Marvelous.

On our second day, Tilly is picking lemons and I am designing a leaflet for our host Jennie. Jennie is originally from Nottinghamshire, moving here in the 80s with her husband, who sadly has passed away. She explains to us, while we’re there, that she buzzes off of the energy of other people. She’s an extrovert. Opening up her house to workaways and renting one room to a Māori girl called Teina (who we’ll talk about more later) is her way of doing that.

Once we finish working that day, we walk to the Te Rewa Rewa bridge, which on a clear day frames Mount Taranaki neatly. Today is not a clear day. Or it is, but as we frequently found out, clear and blue above us doesn’t necessarily mean clear and blue where the mountain is. This leads us to referring to it as the Misty Mountain, indulging our Tolkienian fantasy evermore.

Day 3 is Saturday and Jennie is hosting an 88th birthday party for her Mum. The whole family are round for lunch. We’ve had multiple experiences now where family events are occurring not around us but with us. Its been a highlight of the trip, both because these moments have been lovely but also its not what we usually expect when we travel. We’ve been thinking about this a lot, usually when you travel you interact mostly with service staff, people paid to be kind to you. That is not to say that those people aren’t kind, in fact some fun memories of traveling involve service staff and their varying attitudes. Here, we’ve spent most of our time with people that are New Zealanders, we feel like we’ve had an insight into what New Zealanders are like, which has been amazing.

After we’ve eaten lunch, Jennie’s nephew is kind enough to offer me a lift to watch the rugby. Taranaki are playing against Bay of Plenty in the second highest domestic standard of rugby. I’ve been itching to watch a live sports event while we’re here so I’m very pleased. I strike lucky when given a free ticket at the desk, the lady informing me that someone had just handed it in as they couldn’t come.

Taranaki lose, they only had themselves to blame, and I’m left with two thoughts, 1) Rugby, as a spectator sport, is not as good as football 2) I bet the second tier of rugby at home probably doesn’t have attendances of around 5,000.

Jennie picks me up from the Rugby, with Tilly and Rosie in the back, we drop off her Mum at what Jennie explains is a retirement village, and we drive over to back beach. Back beach is stunning, it is framed by the sugarloafs, two separate rocky outcrops that spring out of the ocean and are lapped at constantly by it, and Paritutu. Paritutu is a sharp angler rock, towering over the beach. The beach itself has sand so dark blue it is almost black, but in patches you can see this deep blue colour that is just wondrous, and is teased by the waves. It is mostly flat, with a sand dune at the access point which is great fun to run down. We walk Rosie and are just in awe of the place. It is a beach I’ll never forget.

The next day is a relaxed one, Tilly is not feeling 100% so we agree to take it slowly. We go for a short walk in the park and then spend the afternoon in the spa, soaking up the sun and relaxing. The budget volunteer traveling life not feeling too bad. Later, we are introduced to new card games and gleam information about Māori culture from Teina, who, I think, thoroughly enjoys sharing it with us.

Hastings Days 7 – 10: Napier and Traveling to New Plymouth

On the Sunday of our weekend, we had planned on going to Napier. This unfortunately fell through due to a couple of factors. Firstly, there’s very few Sunday buses from Hastings to Napier. Secondly, Tilly had a casting tape to submit for something her agent sent over and, without wanting to possibly place blame, it took way longer than we thought and WE MISSED THE BUS BASICALLY.

Fortunately, we both got over this – though in one case maybe longer that was really necessary – and decided to walk into Hastings.

We got to Hastings and were really hungry so we had our second portion of Fish and Chips of the trip. Little did we know that this regular fish and chippery would spawn the gripping cultural movement that is David and Tilly’s fish and chips of New Zealand fish and chips review 2019.

Being artsy types and because it is raining, the Hastings art gallery is where we choose to spend our afternoon, after a good hour in the library making plans for a new project we’d like to work on. The art gallery is really good for a small town. Not to slag off the arts or anything but we’re used to all the funds and access being for about 3 major cities and the rest of the country have to scrabble for a tiny amount of resources.

We go back and watch episodes of the tv series The Boys on Amazon Prime with our haul of snacks that we’ve brought back from town. Marvelous.

Monday passes uneventfully, we work extra hours cracking Walnuts so we can go to Napier on Tuesday, we listen to Lord of the Rings on an audiotape whilst we work, it is blissful.

Tuesday we pick our last ever (this may actually be true and is rather an odd thought) Boisonberry virus head off of the vine and get the bus into Napier. Napier is about 45 minutes on the bus. There’s a wonderful reminder of home when the bus driver is a miserable arse about us not having the right change.

The city is known for its art deco Architecture. This uniquely 1930s style coming when the city had to build itself after a major Earthquake in 1931. We found the uniformity and period nature of the buildings almost film set like, almost as if we could push them over, discovering their all made of cardboard.

It is lovely though and the weather is clear, if a little breezy, so we set about seeing as much of Napier as we can. We, as we’re technically in a new place, take in another portion of Fish and Chips each. We go to the museum and learn about the Earthquake in 1931. We trek to a nearby lookout point and take in the views of the port.

Whilst we’re down on the beach, I turn to Tilly and say, Tilly did you know that if you went in that direction as far as you could go you’d reach South America? Tilly didn’t really believe me, but it is true and gives me another reminder of just how bloody far away we are. That’s not even the Brazil side of South America, we’re talking backside Chilean Andes side.

Shelley, fresh from a conference in Auckland, picks us up on the way back. We pack and get an early night as we have to be on the 7:30am coach the next morning.

We say our thank you’s and goodbyes, we hurriedly write our message in the visitors book from the back of the truck – or Yute as the locals say – on the way to the bus. We have loved our time on the farm and will cherish the memories of it deeply.

The coach journey to New Plymouth is broken down into three chunks, firstly the journey to Hamilton, where we have a three hour break, and then onwards to New Plymouth. Part of the way we switch from a coach to a minibus, which the service does during the week unless they know for sure that they need more space for passengers. A good example of the common sense that seems to permeate New Zealand.

As the sun is setting, we are headphones attached listening to the moment the hobbits first meet Strider, a bloke that sits in the corner of the pub on his own with his hood up smoking a pipe AKA the absolute nutter that you should categorically avoid in the pub.

Arriving under the stars at New Plymouth, Jennie picks us up for the next part of our adventure.

Hastings Days 5 and 6 – Sheep Herding and Te Mata Peak Trail

Sheep herders, that’s what we are now. Not arts types, not football fans. Sheep herders.

As we work, we’re introduced to a sheep born two days ago. It seems insane to think that, for every single one of us reading this, there was a point when someone referred to you as being X days old.

We’re moving them from the field they are in to another one with sweet tastier grass so that field number one’s grass can grow, so that too can be sweet tastier grass in future.

Whilst we do this, we’re made aware of an injured sheep, she is a mother of two and she’s hobbling. We take special care getting her into the next field and then, in private, we make jokes about her, saying she has Arthritis, but not the human kind, the sheep kind (This is a reference to a short narrated by Matt Berry, search Matt Berry: Lone Wolf on Youtube).

Now though it is the weekend and we have planned to make the most of our sweet two days off. The arrangement at the workaway being you work 5 hours for 5 days and you get your grub, board and weekends. Checking the forecast for the weekend, we’ve identified Saturday as the day for hiking. Our destination is Te Mata Peak.

Being as kind and generous as he is, Bruce, one of our hosts, gives us a ride to the start of the park. I, falsely, didn’t know that is was a park with trails. I, falsely, thought we walked all the way to the park with the peak, we do the peak, we walk back. Wrong. We get to the park and realise there’s options. We decide to take a medium length track that met up with another longer one so that if we fancied it, we could tag that on too.

The walk is brilliant, there are views over the Hawkes Bay area and the sun has been generous enough to share its company with us. Though, I guess not wanting to miss out, the wind has also decided to join. Some of the track up to the peak is quite precarious, closer to the fun challenging side of precarious thankfully. We make it to the top and the top can be summarised as one of those memories you think back to and think the view really was brilliant and you choose to not remember that it was absolutely freezing because it was so windy.

On the way down initially it is quite exposed and we actually have to sit down for fear of being blown over a sharp drop. Holiday fun ey.

Despite the odd moment of oh shit I’m going to die, we enjoy the walk back down and stop in the forest area for our packed pasta lunch.

What we both love about New Zealand is how rapidly its habitats and terrains shift. We’re in forest 5 minutes after we’re on the side of a mountain which gives way to lake and so on. Its constantly varying in a way that I guess, because of home, we’re not used to. That isn’t to say that the UK doesn’t have its moments where two or three terrains seemingly thrown together, here it feels like that is happening everywhere.

One of our highlights of the walk was watching a really big fluff dog, I think a Bernese mountain dog, refuse to walk up a ramp into its owners car. He just was not going up it. Priceless.

After the two hour walk back to the farm, we’re grated with a dog based incident of our own. Jed, the youngest of the three dogs on the farm is basically a bit of an annoying shit, he’s lovely, but a total pain. The other older statesdogs, Diesel and Marley, Chocolate Lab and Jack Russell respectively, have evidently had enough of his shit and are chasing him round the outside of the house. We’re on the ground floor so we stand at the window and watch as Jed races past followed by Marley and Diesel, then nothing, then zoom they’re round again. This lasted 30 minutes. Silly buggers.

Hastings Days 1 to 4 – Workin’

The Hanna farm is a lovely place for our first Workaway experience. On Monday, morning 1, we are shown the Boysenberry crop and the virus that aims to starve the fruit of sunlight. We, armed with buckets tied around our waist and gloves, are tasked to pick off the virus heads. We set about our task and are getting on well until around an hour in. Our host, Bruce, has told us that our buckets should be about half full by the end of the row. Our buckets are filling up fast. Faster than half a bucket a row fast. This, really assertively, gets into our heads and we start not picking things we should pick.

We work for two and a half hours and then have a tea break, that’s the agreed deal. Our first 2.5 hours complete, we set back to the house for a cup of tea, only the house was locked (we were told the house would never be locked) and so tealess, we continued on.

We were relieved for the day around 12sh, probably due to it being our first day. Cooked ourselves up some lunch and then relaxed. We’ve done a lot of relaxing whilst we’ve been here and, as mentioned on the video, its due to a change in pace on the trip. We don’t need to smash around the place absorbing culture in the same way we did in our two previous stays. We’re able to slow down a little, not do anything for an afternoon. Read, go running, and play darts. It’s a welcome change of pace and at the same time, it builds our excitement up for the weekend where we’ve got two free days to explore.

Our second morning we work together on the same rows and this time, after a 5 minute showing from Bruce, we’re working a lot more thoroughly and effectively. We listen to Lord of the Rings via audiobook and enjoy the work. On Tuesday afternoon we walk into Hastings to buy snacks, its an hour trip for a load of chocolate and biscuits but it is also definitely worthwhile. Another round of darts when we’re back, dinner, and we get into bed to watch television.

Wednesday morning. We’re joined by another workawayer, a French woman called Elodie, its raining so we work on cracking Walnuts. Beforehand, we’re clearing out cupboards in the second house on the property. We try and gleam as much information from Elodie as we can, she’s been in New Zealand for over a year working and travelling.

Yesterday, Thursday, we crack walnuts and are back in the crop again, a trio. Tilly and I go for a walk along the river and enjoy watching the sheep and ducks. There’s so much life and green. We eat our dinners. We go to bed.

It’s a bit like being at home, in the routine sense, but with all the pressure of life removed. We work, we have our lunch and we read or walk and let the time pass leisurely, sit outside in the evenings under the canopy and cook, listening to the birds whirring away. It’s truly peaceful. It would be perfect if it was warm and you could sit outside all evening but we do have to drag ourselves out of the cold at times. It is the start of Spring here though so it’s hardly unexpected.

Rotorua Days 3,4 and 5 – Tarawera Trail, Birthday Party and Leaving

We’ve seen the leaflet for Tarawera trail in the tourist information and already fallen in love with how beautiful it looks and excited by the hot springs, but like any tinder profile the leaflet and trail fail to mention its baggage. The hills. The kind of hills that after you’ve climbed straight up for 30 minutes you plummet back down again only to go back up once more. Then repeat 40 times or so. But let me backtrack.

We start the day early having to catch the boat to the beginning of the trail. Although we would have preferred to do it in reverse and end with the boat trip back across the lake, our out of season visit limits our timings. So we board the little boat with some conservationists with their tools and rucksacks who are going to be working in the woods and a group of girls who are off camping for three days with ginormous backpacks and gear. David sits with the backpack and camera bag. Then theres me, sat in jeans and an vivid pink aristocats sweatshirt with a tiny handbag. Trail ready.

As the boat gets out into the open it speeds and lifts further out of the water, the silent journey broken only by the cries of geese and the lapping of the water. The sun bounces off the water and its perfect. We get closer into the jetty and you can see the steam floating off the water, where the stream reaches 91c.

We walk around to the official start of the trail, it begins with stairs. A lot of stairs. Starting off confidently, too fast and far too soon we start heading up.

Up and up we climb only to track back down and back up again, I start to think about Sisyphus. And then I become aware of some noise in the bushes close to my head. Its wallaby! I squeal and David thinks its a landslide or something.

I’d like to take a moment and truly apologise to David. I’m sorry I overreact to everything and always at volume. Also sorry to the wallaby, I was surprised and let that surprise carry me away.

David and I took bets on how many people we’d run into on the trail so I’m disappointed when the fourth person walks past us and leads David to victory against my guess of three.