Días como hoy son necesarios

Hoy no hice nada. Bueno, nada útil. Me levanté tarde. Me acurruqué con los perros. Ví televisión. Jodí en la computadora. Comí Flips. Tomé café. Ví el techo. Consideré salir. Opté por no salir. Recibí mensajitos de alguien que me hace sonreir. Recibí mensajitos de alguien que me enerva un poquito. Me dieron ganas de escribir. Escribí. No me dieron ganas de dibujar, suele pasar. Me dió alergia. Ví la película argentina Un novio para mi mujer. Tomé Naranjita y fue asqueroso. Tomé agua y me sentí mejor. Me dió calor y me provocó playa. Te extrañé. Me pregunté por qué la gente se enrolla tanto, a lo cual no encontré respuesta porque yo suelo estar enrollada. Escuché Medici y me causó tristeza, pero después sentí esperanza. Escuché más música. Pensé en incoherencias. Pensé en la inmortalidad del cangrejo. Pensé en mi mamá. Pensé en mi papá. Escribí este párrafo y le dí a publicar...

es así...

Salgo 15 minutos más temprano y el metrobús llega 10 minutos más tarde. El comienzo de la lógica ilógica que domina la vida. Me subo y apenas saludo al conductor, el runruneo que delata a todo autobús se calla. "El coño de la madre," dice el conductor, cero sorprendido. Que suerte la mía. Me asegura que va a llamar por radio a la central para que manden otro autobús, "pero si la radio prende," que no prende porque el autobús entró en coma total. Chévere. Sonrío. Salí más temprano y ya me imaginaba llegando más tarde. La lógica ilógica. El conductor menta madre de nuevo y aprieta botones de la misma forma que lo hacíamos todos de pequeños, jugando en el Nintendo un juego que no sabíamos jugar. Y de la misma forma que Mario saltaba, hacía un triple mortal y llegaba a un nivel secreto lleno de monedas sin explicación, el autobís revive. Todos aguantamos la respiración como si cualquier movimiento va a afectar esta caja verde y colectiva. No se apaga, Soltamos el aire y el conductor nos deja pasar. No nos cobra. Esto me roba la esperanza. Él sabe que su vehículo volverá a sufrir un infarto. No es una cuestión de si va a pasar, si no de cuándo. Cada parada, cada semáforo, cada peatón amenaza mi puntualidad. Son las 7.50 am, la gente está yendo al trabajo, llevando a los chamos al colegio. En una ciudad donde siempre hay cola, ésta es la propia hora en la que hasta las colas tienen cola.
El autobús va tociendo, va ahogado, no sé nada de mecánica automotriz, pero sé que este estira y encoge no es normal. Es como manejar con un conductor primerizo, de esos que no le han agarrado el truquito ni al acelerador ni al freno. Pero en este caso no es culpa del conductor. Estoy en la última fila y fuera de rango para escuchar a los de la proa, pero estoy segura de que nuestro capitán, de acuerdo a los precedentes establecidos, no ha dejado de mentar madre. Me concentro en escribir, en leer, en escuchar conversaciones que no me incumben, habladas por gente que no conozco. El tráfico a veces avanza, pero por lo general me da la oportunidad de observar detalladamente el estado y color de los chicles variados pegados al asfalto. Caminando sería más rápido, gateando...capaz hasta de retroceso. La cola no avanza. La cola avanza. La cola no avanza. No voy a ver el reloj porque sé que voy tarde y me va a joder confirmarlo. Veo el chicle. Leo los titulares del periódico que vende la del KINO. Veo el otro chicle. Critíco el mugroso estado de algunos carros. Aprecio el brillo de aquellos limpios. Veo como es la parrillera de la Explorer. Veo mi reflejo en la Explorer. Veo el reflejo de todos nosotros. Caras de resignados. De entregados a depender de las masas y todos sus vehículos. Una Cherokee tiene una calcomanía de los Leones y eso me recuerda que ganó el Magallanes. Más chicle. ¿Quién es esta gente que lanza tanto chicle por la ventana? Un pitillo. Una pluma. Debería coleccionar todas estas cosas y hacer manualidades. Oscar de León e Ilan Chester se presentarán juntos en el Eurobuilding. Vota el 16 por Capriles.
La cola se mueve y empezamos a avanzar tociendo, a rebotar pa'lante y pa'trás. Es como cuando remábamos mal en la universidad. Este es el movimiento que hace el barco cuando ocho carajas no agarran el ritmo, cuando cada una rema y sigue su propio tambor. Contra todo pronóstico arribamos a la estación del metro, todos sonreímos y nos vemos como si acabáramos de sobrevivir una experiencia de la cual creíamos no saldríamos con vida. Compartimos algo que nadie fuera de este viaje puede entender, hay solidaridad en el aire, esta solidaridad a la que me quiero aferrar me la arrebata una señora que me aparta bruscamente porque "voy tarde niña!". Hasta ahí llegó.

La importancia de no callar

Como muchos venezolanos en estos últimos meses, he sentido una terrible impotencia ante las absurdas acciones tomadas por el cuasi-gobierno que tenemos. Tras tanto atropello e irrespeto, siento que sentarme en mi casa a ver las noticias es una falta de respeto en sí, una falta de respeto a Venezuela. Porque si yo no hablo por ella, ¿quién lo va a hacer? Si yo no me activo y exijo justicia, ¿a quién le corresponde?

Estoy orgullosa de todos los que han dado la cara y han hablado sin miedo. De todos los diputados que no se han quedado callados. De los gobernadores y alcaldes que se han enfocado en trabajar y no en criticar. Me siento identificada con Voluntad Popular y aprecio el esfuerzo de todos sus miembros. Entiendo y apoyo las asambleas populares que han y siguen organizando. Me parece una excelente manera de incluir a todos en el cambio que ya exige el país; porque opino que el cambio viene de la gente, y la gente necesita seguir reunida y activa.

Gerardo Blyde, alcalde de Baruta, mencionó la idea de convocar una gran asamblea que le siga a las mas pequeñas, y espero que suceda, porque necesitamos sentirnos unidos. Necesitamos sentir que no somos los únicos que queremos una mejor Venezuela. Necesitamos recordarnos mutuamente que más de 6,5 millones de venezolanos votamos por un nuevo camino, y que no se puede perder la esperanza. En la asamblea de Alto Prado, Carlos Vecchio, coordinador político de Voluntad Popular, dijo que a menudo le preguntan: "¿Hasta cuándo la lucha?" y me encantó su respuesta: "Hasta que lo logremos." Y es que no nos queda de otra. Nadie dijo que sería fácil, pero es indiscutible que valdrá la pena.

some of my truths

I am a combination of all my experiences. Those include personal and professional challenges that have shaped me into who I am.

From the time I was little I have been fascinated by the world and everything in it.

I travel as much and as often as I can.

I feel pure joy at the mere sight of something new.

I love the way a language sounds when I hear it for the first time.

I love when I finally understand a custom I never knew existed.

I constantly look for new things because doing so nurtures my soul.

I don't think the world is as big and scary as we'd like to believe.

We all aren't that different after all.

what do I believe in?

I believe above everything else that people are good. Deep down I truly think that. We tend to get caught up in the nonesensical day-to-day and transform into mean, obnoxious, impatient, rude, judgemental, superficial, bitter and intolerant beings. I don't think that's the true version of any of us...it'd be too depressing an idea if it was. It's just easy to get carried away in the mix of arguments, and the stress, and the chaos that can be life. It's not healthy, but it's easy. I do it. You do it. We all do it. We all fight for dumb reasons, defending things we don't really care about. We put our pride above others' feelings. It's not ideal, but nobody's perfect. The truth is I don't believe the man that cut me off today is really that rude, or the lady that snapped at me last week is really that mean. I think we're all way more sensitive than we'd like to admit, and fronting a tough exterior is an easy way to avoid that. We all just need constant reminders that most of the things that get our blood boiling throughout the day are really not that big of a deal. It's really not that important that someone rolled their eyes at you, or cut in line, or spoke to you at a higher-than-desired tone of voice. Is it ideal? No. Is it the end of the world? Not by far. Don't let it get to you. Rise above it. Be the person you truly are. Smile and let it go.

I believe in me. I believe in you. I believe in the beauty of humanity as a whole. We might stray off the path every now and then, but I believe we all have the ability to get back on track.

el nuevo año...

La necesidad de escribir es para mí eso mismo. No es ganas, es necesidad. Esta mañana me encontré con la mente hiperactiva, un bolígrafo y sin papel. Estaba ya a punto de escribirme en el brazo cuando encontré dos recibos en mi monedero y pude descargar a medias lo que me pasaba por la cabeza. Me deprime un poco que el obstinante día a día calle mis pensamientos. Mientras más me absorbe la ciudad, más esfuerzo toma liberar las palabras. Estoy segura de que ellas siguen ahí, en algún compartimento secreto entre el olvido y la rutina, y solo sentada en un parque, observando, escuchando, asimilando todo lo que significa la vida en su más simple expresión puedo acceder fácilmente ese cubículo que se suele esconder tras lo que aparenta importante día tras día.

Mi ausencia del blog es culpa de mi ligera aversión por la tecnología y el trote que fue el año pasado. Viví, viajé, escribí y dibujé en diez países distintos y me enamoré de la belleza que cada uno, a su manera, me ofreció. Contrastes de gente y culturas tan drásticos que solo me incitan a viajar más, a conocer más y a entender más. A la vez de ese trote global, comencé un viaje interno que me ha abierto los ojos, el corazón y el alma de una manera difícil de describir. Estoy más consciente de lo que es estar viva y eso me ha llevado a comprender, tolerar y amar más. No por competir con los demás, solo con el propósito de ser mejor de quien fui ayer. Una persona llena de luz, buena vibra y energía positiva. Es un trabajo constante, pero uno que disfruto más de lo que puedo explicar. Quiero y les deseo a todos en este mundo un año lleno de belleza, paz y sobre todo fuerza para lidiar con los buenos y malos momentos que son inevitablemente parte de la vida. Hay que recordar que aunque no todos los días son buenos, siempre hay algo bueno en cada día.

Nunca he creído en las resoluciones de año nuevo, porque no entiendo de donde se saca la motivación para empezar el 1ero lo que no se pudo empezar el 23. Pero de igual manera voy a esforzarme un poco más por leer, garabatear y escribir más a menudo. Son las actividades que más satisfacción y paz interna me traen, y las necesito para combatir la facilidad de perderse en la indeseada rutina citadina del estrés y el malhumor.

a day in my life

as I go about my day on a particular Monday, I do as little talking as possible. I have mastered the sort of facial expressions that render talking unnecessary. On this day, most of my socializing will happen with Corinne, the checkout lady at the supermarket. M and I have a list of 18 things to get. We're tight on time, so we decide to divide and conquer. Now, to most people, that would mean nine items each, but because he knows me too well, and I know me to well, we settle on 16/2.

M knows that I dawdle and that I'm prone to distraction by shiny things, he knows I get overwhelmed by too many choices, so I get stuck finding rice and bread. This should be easy. If I was sent to find any loaf of bread, it might take hours, but M has specific bread, of a specific brand, of a specific color. I don't even know what the brand is, I just know where to look. We need two loaves; I find one. This is a problem. You see, in mundane situations like this, my brain finds no motivation to be decisive. I stand and look at the empty shelf for too long. I find an employee by the milk and decide to talk to her (against all my insticts):

me: "hi there. Do you think you might have more of these in the back?"
employee: "did you find that in the international isle?"
my head: "why is that relevant?"

without saying anything else I decide she's useless and walk away. Now on to the rice. Again, there's specific rice I should be getting; again, I have no idea what the brand is, I just know it's orange. The bread is purple and the rice is orange, I feel like a pre-schooler. There's no orange on the shelf. I have no idea what sort of rice it is: long grain, short grain, medium grain. When where all these developed? Why do we need all these options in our lives? I pick up a blue packet...yes, I'm like a five-year-old and pick things based on color. I make my way to the check out and my boy's beat me to it. That he got all our shopping before I managed to get my two items is a surprise to noone. I didn't even get what I was supposed to get really, but this is not rare and it doesn't matter. One loaf will do and rice is rice, so there you go.

1.35 pm -- the bus leaves at 1.40 pm, we did well. The lady in front of us seems confused about life, and M points out to her where she should enter her pin in order to process the payment. How people get through life without our help is beyond me.

1.36 pm -- we're cutting it close, but I'm optimistic. M's losing hope. I move forward to bag our items...everyone else just does it wrong. The bagging lady looks me up and down and says: "I hope you're aspiring to more than this." I don't know how to take that considering it's her profession of choice.

1.37 pm -- I look over at M and know he's cursing Corinne in his head as she goes into some story or other that makes it impossible to also do her job, further delaying the process.

1.38 pm -- "I use to go home in tears when the supermarket started charging people for plastic bags. People got really intense!" M and I stand there. We don't care. Why people never pick up on the fact that I don't care about their stories is beyond me.

1.39 pm -- I subtly reach for the tomatoes Corinne is weighing and I'd like to think she got the hint. We pay and start walking off. Corinne yells after us: "You'll need your receipt for the car park." We keep walking and with this we say: "We don't drive, we don't have cars. We're done with you Corinne; you're a nice-enough person, but I've decided that our relationship os over.

los indigentes como nosotros

el saque mi cuaderno en público significa, sin duda, que alguien va a venir a curiosear. Nunca falla, es naturaleza humana; y yo, como he dicho antes, atraigo desconocidos y curiosos.

mientras observo a los viejitos de Céret jugar bolas criollas, Miguel se me acerca y se queda viendo lo que estoy dibujando. Miguel es Catalán y entre los dos no juntamos mucho mas que "Bon jour," asi que una vez establecido que el español es nuestro campo común, se instala y conversamos (él habla) un rato. No sé en que momento asumió que yo era pobre y sin hogar, pero lo hizo y me empezó a dar consejos (no solicitados) para los "indigentes como nosotros." ¿Qué hizo que Miguel pensara que yo era parte de su club de indigentes? No estoy segura, pero, ¿para qué corregir? Me dijo donde puedo recibir mi correo (¿los indigentes reciben correspondencia?), y donde me dan carne gratis (no, gracias), también me informó donde quedan los baños públicos (no le paré a la explicación...tipo normal) y lo difícil que es abrir una cuenta bancaria en Francia (¿no hay que tener dinero para necesitar una cuenta corriente?). Un dato mas útil hubiera sido donde dormir, pero como yo no hago preguntas, la cosa se quedó asi. Los viejitos tenían pinta de que estaban por terminar y yo estaba perdiendo luz, asi que sutilmente empecé a dibujar de nuevo, como diciendo: "gracias por tus consejos, pero ya me fastidié."

Miguel entendió, o se fastidió también y siguió su rumbo. Yo me quedé sentada observando viejitos bajitos y gruñones, todos con ropa que parece ajena, y zapatos deliciosos.

diary of a hitchhiker I

january 23, 2012

interesting day for hitchhiking. Started in Dunedin, where Thommy picked me up after two seconds with my thumb out. Good start. Thommy is from India and I'm pretty sure he suffers from something along the lines of short-term memory loss. Every now and then he'd sort of reset and start asking me things we'd already talked about. It could also be that Thommy does not listen; one of those people that asks questions for the sake of asking and then wander off in their brains with no intention of listening to the answer...like me when I ask for directions.

For the whole 40 minutes we rode together, I'm pretty sure these three questions summarize our conversation:

-"Where are you from?"
-"Where are you going?"
-"Do you want some lollies?"

After the fourth time, I had to ram a chocolate bar in my mouth, just to have him ask, seconds later, if I wanted some lollies.

I'm always tempted to start making things up, but I never actually do it...Our conversation could have gone like this:

T:"Where are you from?"

A:"A little underwater colony near the Seychelles."

T:"Where are you going?"
A:"Outer space. I'd like to buy a property closer to the sun."
T:"Do you want some lollies?"
A:"Sure, but I better warn you that I have this condition that will probably make me throw up all over your dashboard."

What would they say if I answered these things? Actually Thommy probably wouldn't mind because he's not listening anyway. The reason I never actually say these things is because I know I can't keep a straight face, I can't commit to being in character. That's how I know I'll never be an actress.

humans

I don't go out much. Anything putting me in contact with other humans I consider socializing. I might not actually speak to these humans, but them being there, present in my bubble, is somewhat social and therefore, unsettles me.

I find most people obnoxious; them, their behaviour, their speech, whatever, it annoys me. Yet, depending on my mood, it can also amuse me. If I'm bored, I go see people. I use "see" in a literal sense, the way you go see elephants at the zoo. I don't want these people to speak to me, or interact with me in any way, I just want to observe them.

What most people find normal, I find, depending on the mood, either peculiar or plain right absurd. If I'm in a "peculiar" mood, I'll go around being baffled and intrigued by people's day-to-day actions; if I'm in an "absurd" mood, I'll find everyone ridiculous and out of their minds.

None of these thoughts get verbal expression because I was raised with "good manners" and the such, which include taking part in these inane rituals of daily life, and keeping what you actually think bottled up inside.

some people

some people need detailed maps. Some people need detailed plans. Some people need to make decisions. Joseph is one of these people. I am not one of these people. This is why me and Joseph should not travel together. I take pit stops as an opportunity to ponder the possible existence of a secret sweater-wearing mob of kangaroos, he takes them as a chance to further kill my spontaneous spirit by yet again planning something I consider absurdly unnecessary.

J: "What's the plan?"

A: "Drive north"

J: "But where are we going?"

I point north...I don't see the issue, I don't know why anything else needs to be decided

J: "Where should we stop?"

A: "Wherever we feel like it"

J: "That's not a place"

A: "It will be"

a peek into the capital

- picton to wellington ferry -

- goodbye south island -

- hello north island -

- cook strait -

- welcome to wellington -

- igualita a mi Puns -

- cbd -

- cbd -

- cuba street -

- westpac stadium -

- all blacks vs. springboks -

- my room -

- my wall on the floor -

- my wall on the floor -

- let it snow -

- view from my deck -

that's my life in Wellington in a nutshell.

Dunedin coming soon...

cheers!

time to move on

It's time to pack again. After two months of "settled" life in Wellington, it's time to move on. I'll miss this city. but I'm happy for something new...I'm always happy for something new.

Wellington has chosen to say goodbye with lots of snow. For the first time in decades, we're having proper snow right in the CBD. I'm not a fan of snow, but I have to admit it looks super pretty.

Tonight's my last shift at work and I'll definitely miss it. I feel comfortable here. I finally know my way around our venues and our kitchens. I know people's names and I know what they do. I know that our plates live in one place and our cutlery in another. I know which elevators get me to where I need to go, and which stairs don't. I know which water coolers to drink from and which to avoid. I now know how to sign my hours so I get paid properly. I finally learned which radio channel to use for catering, and which one for operations...but regardless of all that, it's time to go. I'm heading to Dunedin, where I won't know our venues nor our kitchens. I won't know who people are or what their purpose is. I won't be able to find our plates, forks or knifes. I'll get lost constantly and I'll be all sorts of confused. But I'm sure I'll have a sweet as time figuring it all out, and learning everything over again.

Tomorrow I'll be flying down south (hopefully the weather calms down and the Dunedin airport reopens in time for this to happen). I'm all sorted with a sweet place to live, close to the CBD and the new stadium. Most important of all, this place I'll be moving into is warm...or sounds warm anyway. It has HRV...and it's insulated...and double glazed...and has a heat pump, and all the good stuff that is needed when the city is under a polar blast that is a "one in a 50-year event" as the Otago Daily Times puts it.

I promise my next post will have pictures. It's long overdue. Once I settle down in Dunedin I'll be able to update everyone on my new job, weather and the likes. For now, this is it.

Peace.

forest pete

I have mentioned before that I'm slightly anti-social, but I guess that's not entirely true. I have my moments. I actually love people. This does not mean I always love to be around them. In fact, most of the time, I rather not be. I'm not a fan of talking to strangers, but for some reason, strangers are big fans of talking to me. Guys on buses, old ladies standing in cues, I've heard more unsolicited life stories than I can remember. I'm guessing it's the world's twisted sense of humor. This is nothing new though, I've always been somewhat anti-social; selective my mother calls it...mothers always have euphemisms for their children's behavior.

The most recent of stories came from Forest Pete. Now, I'm rarely aware of what's going on around me when I walk to work. I'm usually listening to music and day-dreaming about a thousand different things. This is the reason why I run into posts (and people) on a daily basis. But when a man pulls up on a tattered bicycle and adjusts to your speed, it's hard not to take notice. I don't know what prompts humans to strike up conversations with someone so obviously not interested, but my lack of understanding doesn't stop it from happening regularly. I reluctantly pulled out my earphones expecting to be asked for the time or directions (neither of which I can provide because I lost my watch and my way a while ago), instead I got a "Hello there! How are you?" In general, I'm a pretty trusting person, but there's something about growing up in a large, somewhat dangerous city, that makes you, even if just for a second, slightly paranoid about random strangers approaching. Yet, after talking to this fascinating character for half an hour, I learned a few things:

I learned that Pete is from Holland. I learned that Pete's bike is missing a few screws (I learned that he probably is as well). I learned that Pete lives in the forest. I learned that Pete gets free bread on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays...who from, I don't know. Forest Pete kindly offered me some. I thanked him but told him I'd get fed at work. I find it beautiful that people that have the least are usually the most generous. I learned that Pete knows a bit of Spanish. I learned that he knows a bit of several other languages as well. I learned that Pete was in Holland the night before. I learned that Pete travels in his dreams. I learned that Pete is in the process of building an "abode" in the forest. I hope he finds a way to stay warm every night. I learned that I should be nicer to people. I learned that I should be more generous as well. I learned that I should pay more attention. I learned that I have a lot to learn.

feeling artsy

I thought I'd share some doodles from my sketchbook...This is what I'm doing when you think I'm not listening :)

- new york skyline -

- road to nowhere -

- one love -

- wanaka -

- follow your dots -
Check out more on here

Cheers!

windy welly

(written on Monday July 18, 2011)

I can see my breath. That's how cold it is in my flat. The cute little thermometer on the wall informs me that it's a cozy 7 degrees Celsius. Oh! New Zealand, as much as I love you, I don't know how I feel about your lack of insulation and central heating.

The news has reported Wellington's coldest day ever: A fantastic 2.7 degrees Celsius. Even snow fell...snow never falls. Not here anyway. I guess it's the world's present to me.

Wind is the downfall of this city. We don't get heaps of snow like the south island, we just get blown away with 70kph winds. Trees are dancing outside my window and rain has been falling for the last 24 hours. With weather like this I find no motivation to go outside. I have three days off from work and I can predict that I'll spend them lazily on my couch, drinking hot tea, reading and drawing.

My lips are raw they are so wind-burnt, and my fingers are so cold they feel like I dip them regularly in an ice bucket. I'm cold on any given second of any given day, but I'm reluctant to buy more clothes because, in general, I hate having things. I dislike owning stuff, especially when I know said stuff will be carried on my back once I resume my nomadic existence. I did give in and bought a fleece the other day. Good call on my part. That just means I'll probably get rid of something I already own...you know, to balance things out.

Peace.

the simple life

Committing to writing more has been a very good thing for me. No computer means back to basics: hand-writing. I like writing, I miss writing. Technology is a wonderful thing, but it has made me lazy. I still have a Kindle, and I love my iPod, but I like that I don't have a laptop or a phone. I like that I don't depend on either of those. It also feeds my slightly anti-social tendencies.

I like living a simple life. I like having that feeling of being able to pick up and go in a matter of hours. My room has absolutely no furniture. It's a 3mx4m space where I lay my head down after a long day at work. I don't have a bed; partly because I can't be bothered to get one, and partly because I don't feel I need one. I have two good blankets and a sleeping bag, and that is enough for a good night's sleep. My traveling zoo hangs out right next to me, and my world map is on the floor at my feet. It should be on the wall next to my climbing gear, but the tape I bought won't stick...so that's that. My scarves are hanging on the window, and my necklaces are on the door. Most of my clothes are in the closet, and the rest are on the floor.

I know I have a unique outlook on life, and I was pleasantly reminded of this while talking to a co-worker last week. He was looking into buying a new televison; partly because he wanted one, and partly because he felt he needed something large and expensive. "I'm almost thirty and have nothing to show for it" were his exact words. I smiled. We really are all very different. Whereas I pride myself in having no posessions, he saw it as a negative thing. Now, I try not to judge...to each his own, right? I really believe that. It isn't about fitting into someone elses idea of happiness, it's about doing what you think is right for you. That little conversation reminded me of how happy I am with the decisions I've made, and how much I like the person I've become.

it's like living with your grandma

Wellington is the capital of New Zealand. It is also the city I've called home for the past month and for the month to come. I was here for a couple of days back in May and I wasn't too impressed, but after living here, I've fallen for it. The wind makes it a bit cold, but it's winter, so it's cold anywhere you go.

I work as front of house for a catering company and I'm having a lot of fun. I don't really know how I manage to get the random jobs that I get, but I'm always glad to do something different and learn new things. My job requires me to be on my feet all day, so it can be pretty tiring. The good thing is it's usually pretty fast-paced, so time goes by quite quickly.

I live in a flat in a sweet part of town. This sweet part of town has an awesome view of the city. To get an awesome view of the city you have to be on a hill somewhere. Getting up this hill after work kind of sucks, but I really like my flat, so I try not to complain. I live with a girl from NZ and a guy from England. They're both students and we rarely cross paths. Sarah studies biology (I think) and spends her spare time baking and knitting...it's like living with your grandma. Andrew studies rhinos and spends his spare time watching absurd amounts of House and playing guitar. Andrew is heading to South Africa to live with rhinos next week, so it'll be just me and grandma until I leave in August.

Ohh yeah, I'm leaving in August. I'm heading back to Dunedin, where I'll be working for the same catering company during various events including the Rugby World Cup. I know nothing of rugby but I'm pretty stoked to watch the games and be involved in the whole thing.

Last post I acknowledged that I suck at updating this. This post I'm committing to writing at least once a week. Let the challenge begin...it really shouldn't be that challenging.

Peace.

where did may go?

ohhhhh where to begin? Last you all heard I was working as a nanny in Taupo. Well, a lot has changed since the beginning of May. I quit said job and started my aimless travels around NZ. I spent two days in Wellington (capital), but other than that I've been on the south island. I've decided to list things:

* I've seen amazing places and met amazing people.

* Winter is starting and I'm a little scared about how I'll survive it.

* I need to get a decent coat and a place to live.

* I'm pretty keen on living in Dunedin, for no other reason than I think it is pretty and wonderful.

* I spent two weeks working on a garlic farm and had the most unexpectedly fun time.

* I've met incredible people while hitch-hiking.

* Everyone has a story to tell.

* When -2º C doesn't seem THAT cold, you know you're acclimatizing.

* I can't weed very well, or very fast.

* I can sell veggies at the market like any of the pros.

* I hate carrying a heavy backpack and get rid of things almost daily. Soon enough I'll have a pretty light pack....and no clothes.

* I absolutely LOVE my kindle.

* I'm pretty content being phone-less. There's something about not feeling the need to always be available.

* My wallet has "Insufficient Funds" stamped on it. It started as a joke, but I think it will soon become a reality.

* I haven't seen any penguins yet. Believe me, you will know when I do.

* I suck at updating my blog. I can't promise I'll be better, I never follow through.

* I wish Mumford & Sons would pay me a visit.

* I like lakes.

* I can't decide whether skydiving is worth the steep price.

* I'm calling it a day.

* I absolutely love you all.

kawakawa bay

The best weekend I've had so far in New Zealand was spent climbing rocks, sleeping under an overhang and roasting marshmallows with some of the coolest people around. Unfortunately I'm as far as I could possibly get from that place at the moment, but that is a whole other story that deserves a whole other entry.

To get to Kawakawa you have to walk/slight hike from Kinloch for a couple of hours (or if you're Dan, run it in one). Alex picked me up at 6pm and we got to Kinloch shortly after that. We didn't really get around to hiking until 8.30 pm, as we were too distracted eating chips, drinking beer and packing our bags. The night walk was quite nice despite the fact that I ran into two (or seven) trees along the way. For food and beverage along the walk, Alex prepared delicious chocolate and alcoholic concoctions that got us to our camp site safe and sound. After starting a fire and chatting for a bit, it was time for sleep.

Waking up was quite an experience as several unrequested birds served as alarm clocks at around 7 am. It's nice to arrive at a place at night and be surprised by its gorgeousness first thing in the morning. We were sleeping under a rock about ten meters from the lake and as I made my way to wash my face and fully wake up I saw the mist covering the water and the first rays of sun and it was just bliss.

For the rest of the weekend we climbed rocks, met other climbers, ate trail mix, enjoyed the view, collected firewood, cooked pasta, fell on rocks, and just overall had an amazing time. I thank the boys and Jess for showing me around and welcoming me with open arms. I hope to make my way back to the North Island and climb with them again.

Check out more pics at
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.855138783133.2384806.27209052&l=a6fc0606ac