moving onwards

Nothing very exciting has happened since I left Cape Jackson at the
beginning of January. The wwoof hosts at my last few places were nice,
but there was always something missing.

When I first arrived in Takaka, I wwoofed with a woman named Alex. I
worked in the cafe that she owns, washing dishes. Glamorous, I know.
(wwoofing doesn't necessarily mean working on an organic farm). On my
first day, I noticed the setup was like wilg--I had to wash the dishes
before sticking them in the sanitizer. But how different it is!! The
stick everything in the sanitizer, including pots, pans, baking trays,
tupperware, plastic! I kept handwashing all these things, while Yvonne
(Alex's daughter) kept giving me dirty looks and reminding me I have
to run them all through the sanitizer. I wanted to say, 'Well, miss,
do you know that the heat melts the plastic, and releases bad
chemicals? Not to mention the tops and tupperware are all warped. And
the baking trays and cast iron pans have non-stick layers that are
ruined in the sanitizer!' But of course, I didn't say all that. I
nodded my head quietly and stuck everything in the sanitizer. Although
secretly, I continued to handwash lots of things.

I committed to work with her a week, so I did that. In the meantime, I
found another Wwoofing place also in Golden Bay. Takaka and Golden Bay
is where new age and the 70s meet--surrounded by hippies and the
alternative lifestyle. Most of the shops sell organic and natural
products; they smell of incense and decorated with pictures of Buddha
and other art promoting natural healing. There are also signs such as
'Make tea, not war'...

I was attracted to Golden Bay because of its close knit community.
Most people living here are farmers (organic), and everyone knows
each other. They are generally nice, relaxed people, who are actively
involved in community groups and activities that promote a healthy
lifestyle. The region sits between two national parks. Hence, the
landscape is painted by mountains, rivers and ocean, as well as cows,
sheep, horses, and old rusty machinery.

More adventures in Golden Bay to come...

The tourist and the Mexican fisherman

As many of you are starting your new semesters, I wanted to share this story with you. Ron and Gerry shared this story with me and I've been thinking a lot about it since. Good luck with the new term!

 

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An American tourist was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked.

Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The tourist complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.

The Mexican replied, "Only a little while."

The tourist then asked, "Why didn't you stay out longer and catch more fish?"

The Mexican said, "With this I have more than enough to support my family's needs."

The tourist then asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"

The Mexican fisherman said, "I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos, I have a full and busy life."

The tourist said, " I can help you. You should spend more time fishing; and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat: With the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats. Eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor; eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You could leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then Los Angeles and eventually New York where you could run your ever-expanding enterprise."

The Mexican fisherman asked, "But, how long will this all take?"

The tourist replied, "15 to 20 years."

"But what then?" asked the Mexican.

The tourist laughed and said, "That's the best part. When the time is right you would sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions."

"Millions?...Then what?"

The American said, "Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos."

A Lost World

"The genius of man may make various inventions, encompassing with various instruments one and the same end; But it will never discover a more beautiful, a more economical or a more direct one than nature's, since in her inventions nothing is wanting and nothing is superfluous." –Leonardo DaVinci

I waved goodbye, as our motor boat pushed away from the wharf. I waved and waved, and cried and cried. My host parents, Ron and Gerry, and my good friends Chizuko, Fuji, and Houdimi, waved back from the dock. I wanted to run back and hug them tightly again, but I was not on land. I wanted to jump into the water and swim back—just so I could hold them one more time—but I was lurched back by the boat's forward jerk. I could not stop waving. As much as I waved, it was not enough to say goodbye.

I would never see the world in the same way again. At Cape Jackson, I had rediscovered what was lost in the real world.

When I snorkeled, I could see clearly down to the ocean floor, while swaying with the seaweed trees that were big enough to eat me. The sea was enchanted: rainbows of various colored fish, anemones, shells, rocks and sea plants. Many sea urchin lay in the shallow waters and I often dived down to grab some. While I stood in the water, I cut them open and examined their organs before slipping its yellow spongy parts onto my tongue. No washing, no additives, no supplements. With every chew there was a new taste…slimy, salty, raw, sweet, sticky, juicy. As I took another look, its prickles were still slowly moving. The spirit and design of the sea urchin was exquisite. I gave it another poke, and assured it that not a single part had gone to waste.

Sometimes, Ron took us on his boat to catch fish and crayfish from the ocean—after we begged him like schoolchildren to come along. When we took the traps in, we first used a pole to catch the rope, then we pulled, pulled, and pulled with all our might until the trap untangled from the seaweed. Sometimes it took all five of us to bring the net in. Finally, to see the things that ended up in the trap! Big fish, small fish, eels and more than one crayfish that was bigger than my head. But Ron warned us, "We only take the big fish, and let's check that the crayfish aren't pregnant."

I arrived at the lighthouse one other afternoon, at the very tip of the peninsula, atop a vertical cliff. To the north were the vague distant mountains of the North Island. To the northeast was the vast ocean, where you were thousands of miles away. I peered over the cliff, as I sat eating lunch, when suddenly, my eyes caught a movement down below. There, a seal waddled onto the exposed rock with its shiny black flippers. And look! Not just one--another! Shaking his head feverishly, somehow frustrated with the fish he's caught. And another--snorting gleefully, as he plopped his blubbery mass into the waves. And yet another, exposing his round belly to the sun. Seals in their natural habitat!

But there were not just seals. There were orcas swimming out to the open sea, blue penguins floating like ducks in a pond, sea birds hiding in shallow caves on the cliffs, and pukekos wandering out of the bush. Whereever I was, there was something extraordinary to see. But more, everything was always changing--every second, every breath, every step, I was in one place and a hundred places at the same time. Everything was alive. And it all made me feel alive.

I can still hear Ron's voice before he left us every night: 'Good night, kids!' I can still see the stars shining brighter than the moon at night. I experienced the world simply as it was: sharing space and respect with a family, animals and nature. Life was plain, yet it was extraordinary. I cried for this lost world. I cried because when something is lost, the future will know what was lost. I cried, as Cape Jackson vanished out of sight.

But in the end, Cape Jackson gave me a renewed sense of the world. And with that I have renewed hope and vision for how I can help the future.

The Miracle of Life

Fifteen years ago. Fifteen hundred acres. Old Toki stepped onto this land. The mountainous peninsula laid gently on the water and looked out into the vast ocean. It curved like a long snake, concealing many bays where the sea breathed softly against the rocky shores. Above the cliffs spread five thousand sheep and cattle grazing on brown rye grass.

 

Koku was sick. They moved from the city to this land for Koku. On this land, the whole family could to stay close to Koku during her last months.

 

When he finished his work, Old Toki climbed up to the top of the hill and rested under the tree at the edge of the forest. He listened to birdsongs, breathed subtle aromas that insects carried about, and absorbed the constant wind that blew his wet hair from his eyes. Every night before Koku went to sleep, Old Toki would tell her what he saw in the forest: there was a zip zip bird that zipped through the forest making zip zip sounds like her coat zipper; there was a ring ring bird that rang in the forest, making Pa believe his phone was always ring ringing; there were also caterpillars that loved to climb along Pa's calves for a ride, colorful critters that crept curiously up his shoes, and kauri trees that carved paths in the forest.  

 

One day, as Old Toki went up the hill again, an unusual bird flew from the tree at the edge of the forest over Old Toki's land and past the tip of the peninsula. Old Toki could not believe his eyes—it was the first and only bird he ever saw flying over his land. He followed the path of the bird across his land. There was hardly a sound, hardly a movement, hardly a tree. With every step was the same dry brown color of genetically engineered imported rye grass. The sheep and cows stared blindly at him. That day he went home and had nothing to tell Koku.

 

From that day, Old Toki sold all his sheep and cattle. Old Toki became the first farmer in New Zealand to transform his farmland into a regenerating forest, and his shores into protected marine wilderness. He created the Queen Charlotte Wilderness Park. From the top of the hill to the tip of the peninsula, now green shrubs poke out of the tall brown grass. Like a growing child, the regenerating forest is full of vivid energy and hope. His park has become a place that celebrates life, and inspires visitors to help re-establish the delicate balance between all life—a balance that will either produce raw beauty that possesses infinite layers of biodiversity, or nothing at all. It is a place that celebrates life, without suits, polished shoes, and five minute Powerpoint presentations about why the environment should be saved.

 

Koku gradually recovered and had three wonderful children. Old Toki smiled as he saw them swimming at the beach. His grandchildren will know what the ocean looks like—not a body of water, but a body of life. They will know how seals play on the rocks, how schools of fish dash carelessly in front of snorkels, and how abalone shells float in seaweed trees to make the water shimmer like twilight at night. And when they run out to the tip of the peninsula, they will be dancing among kauri trees to the endless music of native animals.

 

Today, when Old Toki stood at the tip of the peninsula, he heard it. He heard a new life. He heard a peeping he had never heard before. And he knows that tomorrow, he will hear another. And the day after that, another.

The World of Hokey Pokey

For most of you, Hokey Pokey is a dance that you learned before you
knew the alphabet and a dance that you are embarrassed to still know.
For most Kiwis, Hokey Pokey is the only true New Zealand invention: an
ice cream flavor. Well, soon after followed an infamous edible line of
Hokey Pokey products: cookies, cakes, candies, and all things
wonderfully crisp and sweet.

At Koanui Backpackers in Blenheim, Hokey Pokey is not simply that; it
is an obsession, a world of utopia, a name that conjures hours of
conversation. It is a superhero, an inspiration, a savior.

When there seems to be no way out of the forest, Hokey Pokey comes to
the rescue. See this: Andre, Stuart, Nancy and I tramping hours…and
hours….and hours through the mountains, then reaching a sudden dead
end in the trail. Behind is the deep, dark, mossy forest. In front is
a devastated logging area with the sun relentlessly firing scorching
rays. Where are we on the map? What are we to do? Tonight, stuck in
the dense dark forest…cold, wet, starving. Sick images running through
our heads…

Then a voice emerges, whispering 'Hokey Pokey…Hokey Pokey!' That
delicious, light, fresh, crispy taste tingles our tastebuds. That
creamy subtle caramel flavor melting down the tongue, then biting
down, the hokey pokey bits crunch through, dissolving into a sweet
trickle to finish the taste. Our eyes perk up; our steps become
lighter, quicker; and somehow, we find our way down to the main road
as the sun sets.

And when life is hard and mind numbingly boring, Hokey Pokey keeps us
alive. Some days at the vineyard bake like an oven. Some days pass by
unbearably slow. And still others combine the above to drain every
lingering strain of energy. Doing the same thing over…and over…and
over again; Monotony overcomes your mind, causing repetitive thoughts
syndrome: 'Hokey Pokey, Hokey Pokey; Bloody hell, I could really use
some Hokey Pokey Ice Cream. Hokey Pokey, Hokey Pokey, Bloody hell…'

And when arguments turn into bets, Hokey Pokey is the shining trophy.
'Dare you to eat a spoonful of wasabi without water!' Now any normal,
sane homo sapien with a brain would say 'No' to such a silly dare. But
when Hokey Pokey enters the picture, all logical reasoning is clouded.
And hence, the original 'No' becomes 'I'll do it if you will give me a
bag of Hokey Pokey Cookies'. Even the most absurd arguments such as
"'Bet you the next new person at the hostel will be
German!''Definitely Japanese!' 'Dumbass, you KNOW he will be Canadian"
will balloon into a battle where a 2 L tub of Hokey Pokey is the
hostage.

And finally, there is the battle within thyself. To you, eating
contests are about the fastest eaters. But with a 2 L tub of Hokey
Pokey ice cream, it is about how long your tub can last. Poor: <2
hours; Fair: 2-4 hours; Good: 6 hours; EXCEPTIONAL: >10 hours. How
could you though? It's here. It's yours. You bought it. You love it.
You know you love it. You don't have to resist the urge. Really, you
don't.

You and me
and Hokey Pokey
we were meant to be. ☺ ☺ ☺

I Heard it Through the Grapevine

Time 6:00 am. Beep Beep Beep. I sit up sleepily. Must get up. 5
minutes to get out of bed. I stumble to the kitchen, grabbed a bowl of
cornflakes and milk. Ten minutes to eat. Ten minutes to change, put in
contacts, brush teeth and pee. 5 minutes to grab lunch, water, and
warm clothes. 6:30 out the door. I meet up with Annika (German), Kevin
(American), and Garrell (black Parisian) outside the hostel and we
wait together for Linda to drive us to the vineyard. Work at the
vineyard starts promptly at 7 am. Today we are vine thinning.

'Dontcha know that I heard it through the grapevine; Not much longer
would you be mine; Oh I heard it through the grapevine; Oh I'm just
about to lose my mind; Honey honey yeah…'

As I pick the leaves off the vines, Marvin Gaye is singing through my
head. I look up: at the edge of the vineyard is a stretching landscape
of mountains. Half the hill is filled with grazing sheep, slowly
moving about. The other half is shrubby wild vegetation. I turn
around: beyond the stretch of vineyards is another scenery of hazy
blue mountains. These are covered in dense pine forest. Farther beyond
on the horizon, mountains are capped with a blanket of white.

I take a deep breath. The cool wind fills my lungs, sending a shiver
through my body. But I feel cleansed, and refreshed. I finish my row,
and join Garrell on the next. We stand opposite, removing excess
leaves to help the vines breathe, and the grapes grow. Garrell tells
me about his travels through the North Island in his campervan. Even
though his English is broken, I can understand him, and he likes
practicing his English.

We are luckier than most other backpackers working on vineyards. We do
not do budrubbing as often. Budrubbing! Just the sound of the job is
treacherous. Our supervisors work with us, not above us. And most
important of all, they give us a good amount of break time. We have
tea time at 10 am, lunch at 12:30, and we finish at 3:15. All in a
days work.

Back at the hostel, everyone is just getting back from the vineyards
and fighting for the showers. Most of them are complaining about
budrubbing for 8 hours. After spending a day bending down and standing
up every few seconds, anyone's back and knees would be hurting: truly
the devil's work.

My roommates Mogdeh (Persian German), Misaki (Japan), Lim (Korea), and
I discuss the day and what to eat for dinner. Mmm…beans (muscles
hurting = need protein), corn, fresh tomatoes, and pasta sounds
wonderful! After cooking and eating together, some evening TV,
socializing, and winding down sounds good. I'm tired now…early to bed!

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where am i? read my next email.

zealand hoppin'

in the last week, i traveled many places. partly because i'm so indecisive. i hate when i spend so much time thinking and thinking about the best decision, when really i should just DO.

since i have arrived in New Zealand, i stayed in and around Auckland (the big city) for 2 weeks. for the last 4 days that i was in Auckland, I went WWOOFing in a little town called Titirangi. The best thing i love about WWOOFing is that in exchange for some hours of work, you have everything that you need (food, accomodation, someone to drive you places). the food part is a special bonus. one day for lunch we had only salad. the salad was crisp, fresh, and organic. it had nuts, sunflower seeds, tomatoes, sugarbeet, lettuce, lemon juice, carrots, feta cheese, avocado, balsamic vinegar...all fresh from his garden...truly heaven.

you also learn a lot from the host family just from living and talking to them. i still can't believe i ended up in a Thai meditation center, feeling completely foolish in jeans and a bright orange patterned white shirt (while everyone else was in all white) and not being able to speak Thai. but it was an experience that i could keep in my story list. david also told me some things about organic farming...how to farm so that you don't need chemicals and still keep the bugs off. i find myself becoming more interested in how things are produced and made without the use of crazy chemicals after reading 'cradle to cradle' (a d-lab book).

The major downside to WWOOFing is that you don't make any money. it seems to me that for any activity or experience, the more learning that is involved, the less pay that it gives. i've been here for 2 weeks and i haven't made any money, just spending. So i decided to go on a quest for a job.

I first headed to Wellington, the capital city of New Zealand. I was hoping to get in touch with Charlotte (a kiwi i met when i volunteered in ecuador a few years back), but no reply. I then hoped to get an interview from an mri company that an MIT alum hooked me up with, but no reply. well then, there was nothing keeping me in Wellington. I hopped onto the ferry to cross from the North Island to the South Island the next day.

i just want to say here that the interisland ferry ride was the most beautiful,stunning ferry ride in the whole world. my favorite part was passing through the narrow Queen Charlotte Sound. you really feel as if you're in a part of the lord of the rings; amongst secluded islands, mountains, green wilderness, turquoise blue waters, and a bright blue sky. it's like an endless postcard stretched before your eyes.

i hopped on my tour bus and headed for Nelson. along the way, we stopped by a vineyard and did some free wine tasting. i wish i could've done some wine tasting, but i knew that going through those windy roads with alcohol wasn't good. luckily, next to the wine shop was an olive oil shop, and there was free olive oil tasting as well. mmm...the garlic olive oil...and lemon olive oil...

the trip to the vineyard inspired me to work on one. most backpackers in New Zealand end up in the harvesting industry because it's seasonal, and suitable for making money in a short time. depending on the season, you'll pick different fruit! the season right now is for grapes, so the vineyards are dying to find people. I took the bus from Nelson to Blenheim, and here I am! in Koanui Backpackers, where they said they would help arrange vineyard work for me. now i just have to wait for Monday to come. in the meantime, I'm going to make some extra money housekeeping at the backpackers.

the backpackers environment here in Blenheim is a bit new for me. i feel a bit secluded because most people who are here have been here awhile (they are working), and have formed their groups. this is the first time i've encountered this in NZ. usually it is really easy to meet people in backpacker hostels because everyone is new to the place, and trying to figure out their situations, so there is a lot to talk about. but i'm sure after some time here, i will figure this place out too.

cheers!
mw