bungy jump

i took the plunge old-skool style at the world’s original bungy site just outside queenstown.

just like when i had my skydive, i was completely fearless, until *after* i had already launched into nothingness – at which point my heart came up into my throat and multiple choice epithets escaped my lips. apparently when faced with what it perceives to be imminent death, my brain’s response is a rapidfire “ohshitohshitohshitohshit”… or so i was told.

still, it’s an amazing little rush – and a cool t-shirt to prove it!

and so we make our pilgrimage to the mountains of wanaka. i say pilgrimage, because there are parts of this trip which take on a mystical or spiritual quality for one of us, and the ski slopes have been j’s version of mecca back since we booked our flights. no matter how tight the budget or time, there was no way we were *not* going.

i, on the other hand, was a little trepidatious – worried i’d forgotten how to ride this particular bicycle. after all, we’ve only been boarding once before.

and the first 10 minutes on the toddler slope were maddeningly frustrating… until suddenly, it all clicked back into place.

and from there on out, we had a fabulous time. we both improved by leaps and bounds, giggling with glee over how much fun we were having, laughing at ourselves when we landed hard. we were like kids, challenging each other to go faster, turn harder. it was snow play like i haven’t experience since i was young. put simply, we had a blast.

and j hasn’t stopped grinning yet

advance. retreat. advance.

it’s the waltz of the glaciers, balletically yours since the last ice age.

there is nature in abundance , and i am revelling in it. because it is nature that i need and nature that i miss most living in london. although i will always live in a city, i need opportunity to regular exposure to and contact with trees, birds. i need to be able to stand still in the silence. i need moss underfoot and pine needles overhead. without this i become sour and hard, like a bitter dried-up old seed. it happens gradually, this process of withdrawal, like the slow depletion of a vitamin. but when i get the chance to re-immerse myself in forest oxygen and sea breezes, i wonder how i managed to stay alive without it.

so where new zealand is famous for its spectacular nature, i ‘ve been looking forward to spending some quality time getting reacquainted with the great outdoors. given our time constraints, we can really only do day hikes, and i was so disappointed when the tangariro crossing was rained out. but we finally got our chance.

up at dawn, we bundled in layers against the freezing temperatures and headed up the abel tasman coastal track. in summer one can kayak/hike/camp the whole three day affair. glorious sunshine and blue skies graced us. we walked along shoreline and high into the forest with mountains above us and mountains across the bay. we had an amazing 23 km of the most amazing hike and at the end of the day i was both exhausted and invigorated.

which is lucky, because now it is raining once again…

more photos here

speechless. breathless. heart-stopping.

these are all the words people use to write about beauty so unreal that you can’t quite wrap your brain around it. these are all the wrong words. dead words.

there are no words which can adequately paint the kind of beauty which makes you feel so very incredibly lucky to be *alive*. so damn lucky that your heart beats and your lungs breathe and your eyes are witness to the kind of indescribable natural drama which exists only for you, only on this planet, only in your memory, only in this moment. this air, this blood. only for you – only now.

this is alive.

this is so damn lucky.

getting off the path continues to pay dividends – the last two nights we’ve camped on the shores of the wild western coast beachfront, lulled to sleep by the sounds of the sea, and high above the vast watery valleys of the marlborough sounds, lit by a full moon, and hosting an up-close-and-personal encounter with a real live kiwi!

can’t beat that with a stick.

with a wet and cold afternoon to spend in wellington, we headed for “te papa”, the highly touted shiny new national museum. much of the most important exhibits centred on the role and history of the maori people here in new zealand. i found it extraordinarily moving for a number of different reasons. because the story of the maori people is both alike and unlike the story of indigenous people everywhere. alike, in that as with the native americans, australian aboriginals, paraguayan guarani, and other native tribes the world over, the shameful story has a hauntingly familiar refrain: europeans arrive, europeans exploit, europeans steal, europeans destroy. decimate land, customs, lineage, independence. strong and proud peoples reduced to whatever menial status the white man sees fit to allow.

lather, rinse, repeat.

but unlike the similarities in other colonised nations, the maori story has a very different outcome. because the maori have managed, in spite of the overwhelming odds, to rise above the tragedy of history and change the ending by commanding respect and retribution. in spite of having their rights and lands stripped from them, they have persevered and reclaimed their dignity. they demanded acknowledgement in a way other native peoples have been unable to. there is nowadays, a resurgence in maori pride. thier language is an official language of the country. their traditional ways and customs are being invested in and preserved. their remaining lands have been restored to rightful ownership. and perhaps most importantly, in 1998, they received a long overdue, unreserved and abject apology from the government for their gross dereliction of duty. this alone sets the maori history apart.

and you feel the impact this has had. while history cannot be undone, and wrongs cannot be righted… pride and heritage can be preserved and protected. and, in fact, recalimed by a nation as an integral part of its national identity – for *all* kiwis. collective ownership which ensures future collective responsibility. maybe that’s what other countries are so afraid of. it’s easier to pretend it never happened.

but it’s an impressive testament to the future of a nation when it is both humble enough to look backward, and strong enough to look forward. a lesson that more could learn from. a hope that others might follow.

i’m always intrigued by the endless variety of ways that people travel. from those who pack giant makeup kits in their wheeled hardsiders and watch weeks worth of soap operas hanging out at the backpackers, to those who make it their personal mission to see how long they can go without a shower, carry only an extra pair of undies, hitchhike across large landmasses, and think wearing brightly coloured woven clothing = “going native”. we’ve met people who’ve taken ten months to do the same routes we’ve done in in four, and we’ve met people who’ve been on the road for more than 2 years and don’t know when they’re going home. we’ve met people who called thailand/oz/nyc a “round the world trip”, and people who *only* go to the most obscure and difficult countries they can find. there are people doing the luxury packages, and people who are working their way from one city to the next. it takes all kinds i suppose, and i always end up feeling that we fall somewhere squarely in the middle – not too long, not too short, not too hard, not too soft. just right – for us, anyway. i find it strangely comforting.

i suppose it all comes down to different strokes for different folks. some might call our middle of the road approach boring. i call it anything but.

well tongariro never happened. it was rainy and misty as all hell, and even though i’d probably still have attempted it in the rain, there’s really no point if you can’t see more than 100 metres in front of you. sigh. big time disappointment.

however we went to the cute little town of napier, which was flattened by an earthquake in the 1930s and rebuilt from the ground result – the end result being an architechturally fascinating collection of art deco buildings. i love gorgeous architecture, so i was in heaven – okay, i went a little snap happy. it was like walking through the set of a movie. ever see “pleasantville”? yeah, just like that.

however the rains have continued to plague us all the way to the south of the north island, so not much to write home about. a few aborted attempts to see coastal scenery, and find the imaginary colony of fur seals alluded to by our horrible guidebook (never, ever buy the “footprints” books, they’re just rubbish!) we’ve settled into a comfortable camping routine, and become experts at finding the nicest rest stops to spend the night at (yes, yes, it’s illegal, but *everyone* does it…) and i’ve become quite the 2 square foot chef.

we’re headed for the south island today, and hoping mightily to escape the wet… i blame kerryn (who has reportedly jinxed us for sending him a postcard from fiji…)

the photos from rotorua and waitomo are here - see if you can spot the glow worms

til then, my pretties!

london really should look into getting itself a few thermal hot spring pools. soooooo nice….