This is Winston Reid You may have heard of him. He scored New Zealand’s first ever World Cup point.
He is also my fiancee.
I proposed to Winston right after he scored, via text of course. Couldn’t really justify a trip to South Africa. I don’t get soccer, but Winston and I still have lots in common. For example, Winston likes taking his shirt off. I like when he takes his shirt off.
The hearts wants what it wants, ya’ know?
My heart also wants a huge kitchen fully stacked with Crown Lynn a New Zealand ceramics company that is no longer in business making it collectible. Winston joked that his Mom probably has tons of this stuff in her attic. I still dragged him down to the Aunty Mavis shop on Karangahape Road so we could register.
Ladies, don’t ever take your men shopping with you. Am I right or am I right?! Even if they are soccer superstars!
Try explaining to Winston why you need so many coffee cups. I mean, duh, you obviously use these for cute hot chocolate…
And good luck trying to get Winston to pick out a platter.
“Do you like the blue or the sea green?”
“I don’t know. They look the same to me!”
“What are you… color blind?!”
“I’m sorry, Sarah. Let me hug you with my big arms.”
“I forgive you, Winston.”
“I really like you in this backpacker outfit.
“I still can’t believe you’re into that! Hahaha stop..we have to keep shopping!”
Winston does like these bowls because he thinks they will be perfect for cereal. Meanwhile, there is no way I’m letting him use these for anything besides soup. But I’ll tell him that after I move all of my stuff in..am I right, Ladies?! What is it with guys and cereal? Don’t get me started. Do not EVEN get me started.
You are all invited to attend our wedding, of course. The ceremony will be here in New Zealand.
If you promise to buy us Crown Lynn, Winston promises to take his shirt off at the ceremony.
I remember when I was a human being.
That was fun.
Right now I’m a backpacker who packs bags on the bathroom floor in the wee hours of the morning, so as to avoid disturbing her dorm-mates. And maybe while packing I found half a bar of Whittaker’s Chocolate that I ate as a snack on the bathroom floor before the sun came up. And maybe, just maybe, I ate Ramen Noodles for dinner at a hostel once.
Ok… Maybe twice.
Fine…THREE times! Happy now?!
It just happens, man! You get to the supermarket and you realize you haven’t cooked a proper meal for yourself in 10 years, so you have no idea how to shop. (That’s what happens when you live in a city where every food imaginable can be prepared for you at a drop of a hat. Why the hell should you cook it?) You’re not broke yet, but you’re terrified of being broke. Plus, everyone else is eating them and you don’t want to be a party pooper. Also, you remember Ramen being good in college. Also 2, you had a special cooking technique back then that involved half the seasoning packet and a pat of butter. (Yes, BUTTER in a bowl of deep friend noodles and MSG). Before you know it, you’re searching for scissors in the community kitchen to open the flavor packet.
All I had to do was show up at the train station with my ticket, and “sit on the right side of the train for the best views on the way to Featherston.” So happy that my mama raised me right, and I do what I am told.
Our guide Naomi was there to pick me up with detailed knowledge of this area famous for its Pinot Noir, a legit Kiwi accent, and breezy attitude that makes the New Zealand countryside so special.
We also picked up Terry and Judy, an excellent couple from my home away from home…away from home, Australia. They own a Butcher Shop in Victoria and couldn’t believe when I told them that Americans are not as into lamb as this area of the world. Just another one of the great discoveries of travel. My mind is still blown by the fact that Brits call Jell-o, “Jelly”. Sorry, that grosses me out. I keep picturing little English kids eating spoonful after spoonful of Smuckers.
One of the benefits of off-season travel are smaller groups on these tours, which means you have time to chat with Bruce at the Pallister Estate Winery about something other than wine. We talked about Dick Frizzell, an artist I love who I had no idea was from New Zealand until I got here. He’s convinced I could go to his house on the North Island and just have a chat. They’re breezy here, but I don’t know if they are that breezy. I don’t want to be deported.
Then there was a lovely lunch at a local cafe. “Lovely” is a word I have definitely picked up in the last month here. You can’t help it when the food is as good as this and thankfully, not Ramen.
This is the view from the back deck of the final winery on our tour. The usual here in NZ.
And this is the winery’s dog, Winston Churchill. Below are some muddy gumboots left outside the entrance. I love this area of the world’s attention to detail when it comes to wine and food, without all of the high falootin’ fuss about it. I found the same thing when I did my wine tour in the Barossa Valley last summer.
But I don’t know if my last tour guide would have been as obliging as Naomi was when I asked her to slow down so I could catch the cows we had to yield for as they were moved to another field. You’ll notice some poor grammar in my little voiceover there. That was after the third winery..so sue me.
Back to the train station and Tui beer at the hostel at the end of the day; a belly full of fresh vegetables, cheese, and wine, contact information for the best butcher in Victoria, and a few squares of Whittaker’s chocolate left in my bag for the ride home.
A lovely dessert at the end of a lovely day eaten in a lovely location…
…on the other side of the world.
When you get to Memphis Belle in Wellington, make sure you’re at the front door and not the full-length window. Don’t be the cranky New Yorker in a rush to get out of the rain who spends at least a full minute pushing on a solid pane of glass, totally confused as to how everyone else got inside there and you’re stuck on the outside looking in. Don’t be that girl.
Do tell them that you are from New York, however, because you will receive a warm and genuine, “Ohhhh cool!” from the manager Nick Clark. Don’t bother explaining why it took you so long to get inside because you’ll just ruin the moment.
Do order the hot chocolate if you like hot chocolate because it’s good hot chocolate….
But do not not order a Flat White because you think should be over Flat Whites by now, because Flat Whites are good…and a Memphis Belle Flat White is great. This is how it will go…
When Nick asks if you would like to take a picture of something more interesting, say yes.
When Nick asks if you like coffee, say yes.
When Nick asks what kind of drink, please-for the love of God or at least me -say a Flat White.
Drink this uniquely Kiwi/Aussie coffee drink down…
…one beautiful cup…
…right after the other.
Talk to Bink when Nick steps out because he’s got the information.
Bink will tell you a good Flat White has two shots of espresso with the cream being “pulled from the bottom” with less foam than a latte and more coffee flavor. He will tell you that Nick placed 2nd in Wellington at this year’s New Zealand Barista Championship and 6th in the country. Bink will answer any question you ask mostly because he’s nice, but a little because he knows you’re tripping balls from two flat whites.
Don’t be afraid to dig deep and find out that the beans come from a boutique roastery in Napier. You’ll be in the South Island when the weather gets warmer which is in October or November… which is crazy…because you’re in New Zealand now.
If you’re meeting a friend from the UK the next day to see how he’s adjusting to his new life in Wellington, I suggest moving it from a bar at night to Memphis Belle in the afternoon. Nick and Bink will greet you by name and ask what you’ve been up to. Introduce your British friend to your new Kiwi friends over a couple of Flat Whites and chat each other up a bit. Of course you will have to tried to get in through the window again because you will always be that girl. But talking to three people you didn’t know existed a month ago drinking over the best coffee you have ever had, you will feel warm and comfortable on the inside looking out.
My friend Lesley asked if I had started dreading my hair yet.
This is a fair (and funny) question since I seem to have taken to the backpacker lifestyle pretty quickly. I wear only 2 outfits now, the brown t-shirt number with strategic layering and the purple t-shirt number with strategic layering. I eat a lot of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and fight with the Brits when they call it jam. And despite my best efforts, I engage in endless debates with my fellow Stray-ers about what tours are worth going on.
We are all in New Zealand to see some of the world’s most beautiful scenery, and we are all here on a budget. So it’s not uncommon to see a group of backpackers sitting down to a breakfast of toast and instant coffee, tour brochures and and Lonely Planets strewn about, arguing over which experiences are worth paying the full price for.
“The skydive was awesome, but do NOT pay for the DVD.”
“..It was absolutely not worth $100! The free breakfast they promised sucked. I’m so pissed.”
“Does anyone have any milk I can borrow? I can give you some money when we get to an ATM.”
These conversations always close with the wisest backpacker in the bunch stating, “Look, you have to pick and choose. You’re not going to be able to do everything.” who then passes their milk to the most annoying backpacker in the bunch.
I took this advice to heart when I decided to stay back in Tongariro to wait for some fine weather to tackle the Crossing. The few extra days I would stay at the Park Lodge meant no South Island for me in this first month of travel. It also meant saying goodbye to the first group of travel buddies I was crazy about who would be moving on to Wellington without me. There is nothing like those first belly laughs with new friends who are sharing an absolutely ridiculous life experience with you, and it was hard to let that go. But when the clouds finally cleared and I caught my first sight of Doom the morning I saw them off, I knew I had picked and chose wisely.
The Tongariro Crossing is one of New Zealand’s Great Walks- a 20K plus hike through crazy volcanic terrain at the foot of Mount Ngauruho, aka Mount Doom from the Lord of the Rings trilogy. You can do this 6-8 hour hike unguided, I guess. But based on my experience with “the walk” in Raglan, I decided I couldn’t be trusted in the bush alone. Besides, if I paid the good people of Adrift Outdoor for some real gear and their expert advice along the way, it gave me that much more time on the walk to think up Lord of the Rings references.
For example, “The Eye of Sauron was fixed upon me” as we began the Devil’s Staircase about an hour and a half in.
That’s clear in this self-portrait during the first challenging bit of the hike. Tongariro is not a super technical hike. But believe me when I tell you that running up and down subway stairs for the last 10 years is not enough practice. Layering was not necessary over the purple t-shirt number when I was huffing and puffing.
The guides let us break to eat a little lunch and to start gearing up for the winter part of the show. We laced up those crazy snow shoes, crampons, and they taught us how to use ice picks to stop ourselves if we fell and slid back down the mountain. In retrospect, I probably should have stopped taking photos in front of Doom and listened a bit more closely.
Luckily, I made a new German friend named Rochus who always stayed just ahead of me to lend a helping hand when I almost toppled over at least 5 times.
Rochus’ lifesaving count slightly differs from mine. But what matters is that he’s hilarious and an excellent person to share that moment with. His favorite expression is “YAY!” which is absolutely appropriate for the view here. Lake Taupo in the distance, turquoise crater lakes in the foreground. Thanks to the beautiful weather that I chose to stick around for, the guides told us you could basically see from one end of New Zealand to the other.
Crampon CrampOFF for our descent down the mountain and into the Red Crater. “Crampon Crampoff…the Cramper!” would be a great jingle for how sore I would feel from this hike the next day.
The guide asked us all to pause here in silence to take in the moon like eerie-ness of this section. Then the guide farted. Typical Kiwi sense of humor.
The landscape changes completely on the other side of Doom- rolling greens, blues, golds, and browns that you we easily strolled through on a clearly marked path for an hour and a half until we all met up again at the parking lot. I didn’t hear one car or electrical hum. Just the occasional hiker passing by or Rochus singing national songs with a couple from the Netherlands who are gearing up for the World Cup.
There are great hikes all over the world, many of which are in my home country. But what makes New Zealand’s nature so spectacular is how varied it is and how it’s all stacked together. Where else could you wield an ice pick 20 minutes before hopping and skipping through country like this? If you had dropped me off here blindfolded, I would have said my little brother was close behind me on the Appalachian Trail.
The beauty is disorienting in a way that every good thing that’s happened to you before and all of the possibilities going forward exist in the same space. My new travel friends may not have been able to cross Tongariro with me, but they were warming up the rest of the country for me, partying in Wellington and skydiving in Queenstown. All of my people in New York continue to do their thing in the greatest city in the world and wait for me to post new pics. And Conan texts me from Australia to make sure I’m settling into the backpacker life, and to tell me he can’t wait to see me there. There is no need to pick and choose. You can have it all in perfect moment here.
Rochus and I had some dinner afterward. Satisfied and completey exhausted, the only thing I could get out in between bites was, “I can’t believe that happened. I honestly think that was one of the best moments of my life.” And Rochus had only one reply which was all that was necessary to sum up Tongariro.
No one told me that blowdryers are actually nuclear reactors.
Every other electronic device is fine here in New Zealand with a travel adapter. But when I plugged my blowdryer in, I nearly caused a blackout. Ok, not a blackout…but there was definitely a sonic boom-like pop, a weird smell that I imagine can only be found in the opening scene of Terminator 2, and an audible “Ohhhhhhh shiiiiit” from my hotel room in Auckland.
So please try and focus on the view of Cathedral Cove in Hahei on the North Island and a few stories from New Zealand. Not the frizzbomb with eyeballs in the foreground in the pic above.
The blowdryer is only one of a million surprises within these first two weeks in New Zealand. Wait..two weeks, right? Yes, two weeks. Do you know I had to double check my calendar to make sure that was right? God almighty… that’s what I’m talking about, man! Who knew that a trip half way around the world would be so disorienting?
You can really only prepare so much for your first bug working travel holiday thing-y. My plan of attack was to create as many options for myself as I could before I arrived. I am in New Zealand on a working holiday visa which means I’m eligible for any job available, Prime Minster or sheep shearer. That visa required buying a more flexible roundtrip ticket back to the US, which means I can go back pretty much whenever I want within a year. And thanks to the good people of Stray Tours, I have a bus tour which allows me to get off in any town I want and st(r)ay for however long I want.
Options are surprisingly terrifying.
I knew it would be beautiful. I heard people were nice. But not this beautiful, not this nice. My requests for coffee with some business contacts in Auckland that first week were met with invitations to dinners, a lunch, and a trip to the Farmer’s market; Great conversation, awesome food, and over the top generous people. My Stray pass covers both the North and South Islands, which turns out to be a whole lot of New Zealand to see in only a month’s time. My jet lagged brain turned options into life and death choices.
I finally pushed through in Raglan, because staying there was the best choice I’ve made in a long time.
I got to spend some time with Erin, an American ex-pat who owns and runs the Karioi Lodge and the surf school attached with her husband Charlie and their friend Rock. She and her husband were traveling through New Zealand a few years ago and never left. Apparently, Karioi means “to linger” in Maori. I believe it since I stayed for two extra days..then another two days.. and then another two. How can you leave when the first thing you hear in the morning is the ocean? Or when you listen to one of the employees practicing that song from Once on their guitar in the the other room while you’re fixing your morning toast?
I, of course, broke that silence cursing and praying to the heavens during the most terrifying hike of my life around the lodge’s property. Please know that when Kiwi calls something a “hike”, it’s more like a journey into the heart of darkness. I am not exaggerating when I tell you I slid down muddy hills and broke my fall only by grabbing on to massive tree branches with both arms fully wrapped around them at least five times.
More loud and less dangerous times were to be had at the local rugby match where the Karioi staff came out to cheer on their home team, and at Freddy’s housewarming party the night before I left. You know, Freddy… my surf instructor.
You may not come to Raglan to surf, but it’s kinda impossible to leave without having tried it. So Freddy taught us all about the tides, and what’s so special about a left hand break. He was so breezy explaining how to pop up on your board and how to position your hands just so, that for two minutes I thought that I could secretly be great at this.
Then two minutes later I got into the water.
I added some bruised left toes and butt cheek to my list of injuries at Karioi, and swallowed so much salt water that I’m pretty sure I will never need sodium again. But I stood on that damn board two times, came up from underwater to see full-on rainbows over the black sand beach three times, and turned around to see Freddy waving me back into the ocean to try and catch another wave every time.
I’m writing this now from a lodge in Tongariro National Park in front of a fireplace. I can see massive trees and a little barn ahead of me, and can hear a bunch of backpackers watching Lord of the Rings behind me. I am only thinking as far ahead as 7 pm tonight where I’m meeting this hilarious Irish couple and British guy who I’ve been straying with for the past few days for some mellow beers before they continue on to Wellington. I’ve decided to add a few extra days here to do the Tongariro Crossing, and because I really love this place. Those are the only choices I have to make right now.
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