I arrived in Paihia today. The sun opened up and the blue green ocean called my name. It was spring break during the winter holiday. Young and old spread across the ocean shore, and though of no great size or scope in beauty it is a comfortable and relaxing place, free of pretence.
There are more backpacker accommodations in this tiny seaside town than in all of Auckland—New Zealand’s biggest city. I had arrived on my own. My partner stayed on in Wharehine to work for a carpenter painting houses for a few days. Already I look forward to his arrival. I am in love with this tiny seaside town and I think, hope, that he will too.
It was a stroke of luck ending up at the lodge that I did. My bus ride ended at the wharf, dropping us off at an information booth. The first off the bus I struggled to pull my bag on amidst a jostling swarm of elderly people, ruthless in their attempts to get their bags and get out of there. As the bus pulled away I stood alone anxiously anticipating my next move. Laden and ready to move I made my way to the information booth. With phone in hand I went through the backpacker brochures. My first four attempts all resulted in no vacancies. Then came my lucky call. The Peppertree Lodge was available and waiting.
Sight unseen I agreed to a two nights stay. As I walked down King Street, a street basically dedicated to backpackers, I eyed my earlier attempts and the lodges that I hadn’t gotten around to calling, but as I turned down the drive I was certain I had chosen the proper place. The advertised free kayaks were parked outside, just waiting to be put to use. A bicycle rack stood empty but it spoke of rides untaken and promised to fulfill.
Free tennis beckoned my as well. It was with a heavy heart that I sold my tennis racket back in the states. Bought when I played in high school it had remained one of my prized possessions all through the years. Now here it was free for me to enjoy once again. What I thought was the icing on the cake was only the beginning.
Physical comforts were catered to as well. My room, a light and airy place with crisp white sheets, ventilating windows and glass doors that open wide to let in the sea breeze and ocean smells. Our room for four even featured our own bathroom complete with shower. There is something so refreshing about paying very little for what feels like resort accommodations. With a backpacker’s budget but a taste for the finer things in life roughing it can only satisfy for so long. Thankfully, though unbeknownst to me, I was facing the freshest shellfish dinner of my life, complete with a fine bottle of wine.
I could not have been at the lodge for but thirty minutes when I was whisked off to dive for mussels off the beaches of a distant island. With little by way of a plan Lesley and I set off. I met Lesley as I was situating myself in my new home. I had planned to be here but two days, but I suspect it will be longer. She came in briefly to grab the bag of a mate. We were introduced then she was gone.
Last night was a big night in Wharehine. Our youth hostel hosted their weekly ten dollars all you can drink special. As beers are quite over priced we took it upon ourselves to make back our money. We drank and we talked and we made new friends. There were many new faces and few familiar ones. Many of the German speakers had moved on and in their place came the Spanish speakers. I was in seventh heaven. Though my Spanish is far from being even remotely good I still love to speak it, and speak it I did. It is a beautiful when I am frustrated by being surrounded by people who don’t speak any language I know to suddenly hear a language, that though is far from fluent to my ear is near enough.
Starting at around seven o’clock the people begin to trickle in. By seven thirty it is far more packed than I have ever even imagined at seeing it. Then, when eight rolls around and the evening has begun there is little standing room and all seats are coveted and carefully guarded. By getting in with the guardians of the chairs I was able to secure a spot for myself at the railing. We drank and we rolled cigarettes, the obvious preference in New Zealand, and drank some more. I like to think I got my money back, at least I hope so for otherwise the headache and upset stomach the next day sure weren’t worth it.
The next day in Paihia, with barely more than a power bar in me, but loads of liquids, I left my room in search of food and relaxation, what I found was an excursion and a new friend.
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January 25, 2007
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