VIEWING LIFE THROUGH A SUNSET

Elza: "This is like the place people picture when they think of paradise. Think about all the people who AREN'T here...
Me: Billions...and do you know how many of them would rather be here than wherever they are?
Elza: All of them."


So we finally made it. After far too long a time in Auckland, and far too many slightly unsatisfying trips to the sheltered, wave-less bays around the city, we made it to the West Coast. The wild, thrilling, breathtaking beaches of the west coast...

Only 40 minutes from Auckland (unless I'm driving) Piha beach stretches out at the foot of heavily wooded and lightly developed hills. The black sands, jutting rocks, and crashing waves are beautiful and intimidating, but well worth any risk.

There were nine of us squeezed into a rented mini-van: Kathleen, Mike, and Meredith in back; Elza, Sarah and Victor in the middle, and Tami, Eugene, and I in the front (poor Tami was sitting between the two front seats...that's what happens when you're the small Asian girl). I was probably a little too giddy and scatterbrained to be driving but after a few turn-arounds and a lot of banging my forehead on the wheel in frustration we finally ended up following signs to Piha. We had to drive some windy roads (of course) and I tried to take them slowly but I'm pretty sure my version of slow wasn't slow enough for the people in the back of an 8-seater. Oh well.

Anyway, we were headed to Piha--a little apprehensively after hearing stories of people being swept out to sea there, not to mention the fact that there is a show about the Piha surf rescue. We drove past the warning signs with vivid pictures of people being sucked up by rip tides and crushed on rocks, laughing aloud but silently thinking: what are we getting ourselves into?

The beach was beautiful (of course) and rather anticlimactically, it was fully of people of all ages. Granted, there were A LOT of life guards but as Meredith so succinctly put it..."I think it's probably safe over there by the babies."

Elza and I went up to Surf Piha and loaded up with all the surfing equipment we would need: surf boards, a body board, a wet suit, and a rash guard. The little surf shop/accomodation of Surf Piha was tucked away on a hill with a beautiful view of the beach. We were greeted by smiling surfers just hanging out by a beautiful little building just chatting and waiting for business. These are the people who should be envied...forget movie stars.

Returning to the beach, Elza and I headed straight into the water. It felt so incredibly good to be back in the ocean again. It's a type of refreshing that goes deeper than just waking you up or getting your heart rate up. It's like that first slap of a wave in your face is a slap to put everything into perspective. But I guess that's what an immense body of water does best...puts things in perspective.

Anyway, my first trip out was as abysmal as any. Despite my inability to stand up...at all...it was great just to be out battling the waves, laughing with Elza, surrounded by yet another beautiful New Zealand beach. Of course, when a nearby surf instructor warned us we were about to be sucked up by a rip tide that would carry us into the nearby rocks we were reminded that Piha's beauty is dangerous.

After about an hour and a half in the water we got out to share our boards. Like cravings for food, I have always had the strangest cravings for warm sand. I don't know why and it's kind of weird but one of my most favorite feelings in the world is lying in soft, warm sand. Piha was amazing. Although it wasn't incredibly hot out, the black sand was the perfect temperature and, not even giving my towel a second glance, I just snuggled down in the sand and let the sun beat down upon me. Amazing. It felt exactly the way it does in my head when I'm cold and no where near a warm beach...like nature's electric blanket. Ooooh, I wanna go back right now...

So, needless to say, I was asleep in a very short time. I woke up warm, happy, sandy and with my arm covered in drool...perfect. Time for another surf.

The second time out was nothing short of exhausting and nothing short of amazing. The rips and currents at Piha are formidable. Just walking out (let alone paddling) is a struggle. I definitely never made it out past the break (nor did I particularly want to take that risk). However, with a little stamina and a masochistic desire to live in a washing machine, surfing in the breakers is no less enjoyable.

The waves were nothing too big and they were a little slow but after a while I finally got it. I stood up...and boy did it feel good. Granted, I probably looked like an idiot and I wasn't exactly cutting it up out there but, darn it, I was standing. After the first time I less-than-gracefully jumped off the board and actually said aloud to myself "Been a while since that happened...at least I know I can do it." And from there it was like it clicked. I stood up quite a few more times, but after a full three hours of fighting those currents and getting pounded, I just didn't have a whole lot of energy left in me. Not to mention the life guards had announced about 45 minutes earlier that they were going off duty and we were now "Swimming at our own risk."

I was the last one out of the water and, after returning the boards, we all decided that food was the next call of business. We found a little restaurant bar right by the beach (actually only one of three places to eat in Piha) and stood on the balcony eating salad and chips as the sun sunk down towards the horizon.


Now, I'm probably a little directionally biased but, until something convinces me otherwise, there is just something magically superior about West Coast beaches. Sunsets are all well and good anywhere but there is just something special about ending the day with the sun sinking into the ocean. I watched the sun disappear on a beautiful day standing in the waves surrounded by the reflections of magnificent colors. Behind me I could hear the distant sounds of my travel companions laughing and talking. Once the sun went down Elza, Sarah and I danced around on the beach, frollicking in the waves as they reflected the pinks and oranges...it was magnificent.


In a moment of poetic inspiration, Elza and I wrote "Thank you!" in the sand just in time for a wave to lap it up, sending our appreciation out to the sea that had provided us with so many beautiful moments.


Once the sun and the light had fully disappeared we headed back to the car and drove back to the city. Eugene was driving, something that I regretted until, on the dark windy road, we came upon a car that was driving in our lane in the wrong direction. I don't know how I would have reacted but Eugene kept us all safe so I was pretty glad I wasn't driving at that point. I navigated us back home and we all made it back safe-and-sound from a beautiful day.

Definitely a day to put things into perspective...but maybe not a day to motivate me to spend time doing homework that seems entirely unimportant...

Thanks Piha.

photos taken by Tami Bolk, Sarah Anderson, Kathleen Wamser, and Elza Pole

The Core of Discovery

Oh,the stories my feet would tell if they could talk
And speak beyond the ache of discovery
If the tingling experiences translated past the ankle
And, too, the stories my eyes would tell
Verses recited by a tired squint or a sparkle of wonderment
If only language ran through my veins
Pouring forth from every nerve-ending
Proclaiming the subtleties, the wearying menagerie of everyday wonders
But blood runs thicker than words
Constraining them to just the lips and fingers
Two senses monopolizing an experience of the entire body in a lop-sided representative democracy
For fingers tread only on the pages and lips are not meant to walk the earth
But mearly kiss the air, unable to hear the untold stories in my footsteps.

So here it is: an actual blog posting. Only 60 days into my travels. And what a full 60 days they have been. Two months that could fill a lifetime...certainly too long for any blog post.
But that's not what this post is about. Today is about today. Today is about the core of discovery and the magic that a little wandering can bring...

GRASS SKIRTS AND GRASSROOTS

I started the day sick and in bed. Oh, how I struggled against the alarm clock and the knowledge that I really must get up. Places to go--adventures to be had whether I welcomed them or not. By 10 I was off to Onehunga, a lower-class suburb of mainly Pacific Island minorities. I had decided to write my first article for my journalism class on the release of the book "In Search of the Friendly Islands". It is a book written for Tongans by a Tongan and its message is an attempt to brush away the denial customary to that island nation...the denial that nothing bad ever happens in Tonga and there is no need for change. The author, Kalafi Moala, is a renowned Journalist and publisher who has spent more than his fare share of time either behind bars or banned from his home country due to his courageous attempts to shake the tyrannous status quo.

The release was a learning experience all in itself. After a 45 minute bus ride, I found myself in the Onehunga community center surrounded by a small group of people from all over the world...half of them dressed in traditional island garb. The invocation was in Tongan, followed by a hymn in Tongan, and welcoming phrases in numerous languages. The message of the release speeches were ones of fondness for Kalafi and a hope that his book would be successful and would teach its readers about Tonga and about the change that is needed there.

Sniffling and overcoming my timidity, I gathered my interviews and compiled enough information for what has the potential to be a very interesting story. But the adventure had only just begun. With the weight of that off my shoulders and a beautiful afternoon ahead of me, I decided to walk back to the apartments instead of taking the 45 minute bus ride back.

WHEREVER YOUR FEET TAKE YOU

Now, I will be the first to admit that I short-changed Auckland. When I first arrived here I was acutely disappointed. To me, it was just another city. And those sentiments were seconded again and again as I traveled through New Zealand and spoke to native kiwis. Auckland is not beloved.



But now I come to the city's defense. I have been charmed and wooed.

Auckland is just another city, but, like every city it will show you great wonders if only given the chance. I think too many people come to Auckland and just dismiss it without letting its secrets unfold. Today, I said: Show me what you've got.

I probably should have considered the distance I would be travelling before I turned down a 45 minute bus ride for a walk. But that's the beauty of being here, I suppose. What else did I have to do other than walk for as long as the day would allow?

From the Onehunga community center I could see the obelisk of One Tree Hill sticking up above everything. Here, I apologize for not having pictures; I forgot my camera and would have missed the bus if I'd gone back in get it. However, I will do my best to find sufficient stock photos. Anyway, the silver obelisk towered over the town from atop it's lush volcanic hilltop, shining in the sun like a beacon. How could I resist? Especially on such a beautiful day. So, without further ado, I started in that direction.



It was about an hour before I arrived at One Tree Hill, walking through neighborhoods devoid of people but full of chirping cicadas. Walking through the domain around One Tree Hill I could only think of one thing...this must have been what Auckland was like before all the buildings. Rolling volcanic hills, grazing sheep and cows, little wooded alcoves, all culminating in a steep climb to the peak from which can be seen the entire city of Auckland. One Tree Hill is a commemoration of the Maori people and their sacrifice. Its background is fascinating, and more can be read here. It is truly an amazing place...an expansive swath of pastoral beauty that somehow manages to hide smack dab in the middle of the city.

I soaked up the sun and the sights on the top of One Tree Hill and then headed back down...in the general direction of downtown.

One of the most amazing things about Auckland is the incredible number of parks (or domains) that exist there. One can hardly walk ten minutes without discovering a new park, usually filled on Saturdays with white-clad cricket-players. I must have seen eight different parks on this one walk and, although I stopped on numerous occasions to watch the cricket games, I could not make heads nor tails of it.

Four hours I walked the streets of Auckland, making my way towards what I knew was the general direction of where I needed to go. I was waylaid at one point by a natural foods store that yielded all sorts of delectable goodies and I couldn't help but walk away with a slice of vegan chocolate cake. Walking along the streets of New Zealand's largest city eating chocolate cake is no bad way to spend an afternoon.

I saw a race-course for harness racing, a brewery the size of Paramount studios, and a pizza place called Hell...all of which I made note to visit again later. The pizza place not only named its pizzas after the seven deadly sins, but had a vegan one named 'Sinister'. Quite entertaining.

I also found myself in Newmarket, Auckland's answer to every other city's swankified retail mecca. There were fancy stores I recognized and fancy stores I didn't, all attracting a clientele of 20-something girls and gay men...the same in every city. And yet, even Newmarket couldn't help but have it's own little charm. Nestled between the department stores, there was still some character.

It was a long long walk before I started seeing things I recognized and, despite a nagging cold and aching legs, I couldn't help but visit one last park...the Auckland Domain. There I sat and tried one last time (for the day) to understand cricket. No luck. Walking the final stretch through the park to the edge of campus I was inspired to write the above poem. It was the only way I could even begin to describe what a full-body sensual experience it is just to wander with no particular goal except just to see whatever there is to see. Maybe I will be reincarnated as a sponge...

So, it's no grand adventure. There was no risk of life (except for being a pedestrian), there were no great experiences; it was just me walking through Auckland for four hours and letting it show me whatever it wanted to. I only wish that more people would just take to the sidewalks and get to know their cities. Down time? Get out and walk. You never know where your feet will take you.



stock photos provided by flickr