letters from the road; Waihi

I am in the middle of Waihi, North Island, New Zealand. It is 4 am here in the most beautiful place in the world, and tonight, sleep clearly isn’t happening.

We’re all bunked down in a Motor camp; and my insides are still aching from laughing over the fact that the Mother and Father are sleeping in a Tourist Flat and cooked dinner in a communal kitchen. Its a long weekend for the kiwis here in New Zealand, and as such, most accomodations are booked out. we were really lucky to find that out early and booked this place at noon. We spent the first night in NZ in the lovely Coromandel, and are on route to Tauranga. Breathtaking views of the sea.

My mother loves the sea — and its common knowledge that when she is particularly sad she takes a drive to the beach to have a little bit of time to herself. so this is special, to be able to share this little part of the world with her. she has told me, maybe three times in the last two days how she finally understands why i keep coming back here.

Dad’s been a trooper too. Mr luxury traveler has gotten quite used to loading and unloading the car, and has learnt how to spot home farm produce signs from the road. We have bought too much vegetables already — enough to last our holiday but i’m sure there’s more to come. there was a spot of farmer’s market shopping today as well, and we scored some very awesome smoked garlic sea salt, meat rubs and healers’ balm.

the sister and the council president are also doing well, despite both fighting some nasty sinus issues.

on the downside,

1. i got sand fly bites on my feet. the last time i had sand fly bites, my body had a strange reaction and i had to go on oral steroids. frantically applying purification EO as well as Soov, which is something i bought here for sand fly bites.

2. i tripped and fell, and hurt my chin, hands, knees– and my shoulders ache somewhat from the impact. am fine, no worries. just a little bunged up. i’m not usually the clumsy sort, so this shocked everyone– especially dad who has been giving me the royal treatment.

3. bronco, the resident drama queen, is sick back home and my helper was near tears when she spoke to me about it. my sister in law thankfully has the day off on Monday, and is helping us with a vet run. my helper loves B very much, so i’m sure he’s in the best hands possible — just keeping my fingers crossed, because its been a long time since he has been this sick, and he usually has to overnight at the vet, out of sheer stubbornness, in refusing food and water when sick.

4. my kindle died on me. ok, seriously?? i think this, as well as Bronco is the main cause of anxiety that’s keeping me awake. they seem to sell kindles here in NZ, will just have to stop by at warehouse tomorrow to see if they have any type in stock.

Nearly 4.3o am now, and i am no closer to sleep than when i first started this post. bugger it. shall just wait for sunrise, and farm navigation out to the sister tomorrow.

PS: my bladder chooses tonight (while denn and i sleep in a cabin without an ensuite toilet) to shrink to tiny size. we usually as a rule, insist on ensuite. except that everywhere was full and this was the best we could do. mum and dad wanted to sleep out here, but i veto-ed it as the tourist flat (the other unit we got) sleeps 4, and i was worried they’d panic about being out here alone, in the middle of nowhere. at least they have an ensuite.

can’t wait for the sunrise.




E is for Egg Tarts

Today is one of those days when I spent the whole gawdawful day driving (which to those near and dear would attest is stressful for me avid the rest of the world).

So anyway, i am feeling so very “why-always-me?!?”, and my friend Mel, who claims to me my biggest wordpress fan msged me to remind me to pick up my special-limited-edition-cos-they-were-made-for-me-Gula-Melaka egg tarts! Hur, as if I’d forget my Gula Melaka egg tarts. Made by the guru of all things egg tarts, I get my very own custom order Gula Melaka egg tarts. I’m not sharing my Gula Melaka egg tarts. (Ok, I’ll give one to The Sister who is as big a Gula Melaka fan as I am, and one to my momma.. Cos really, these Gula Melaka lovin’ genes came from somewhere.)

How many times can I say Gula Melaka egg tarts before you start thinking about what kind of witchery is this, Gula Melaka egg tarts? What do Gula Melaka egg tarts taste like?   Keep thinking, because I’m not sharing!

;) you rock, Mel.

H is for hush

I steal the blanket, he says.
I took his pillow, he says.
I sleep in the middle of the bed, he says.
He wakes up to my toes on his pillow, he says.
Pass Bronco (the dog) over, he says.

We’ve lived together some two/three years already; and still every night it’s a new night; new battles; new crazy positions I twist and turn into in sleep. We still argue over who gets the dog to cuddle (Bronco is the reigning favourite, so much so, sometimes our domestic helper fights for him too.)

He often tries to untwist me, thinking it must hurt to sleep like that but it wakes me up, surly. There are nights he sleeps on my pyjama dress; and I valiantly try to hold in pee till the morning. Sometimes, we swap pillows (and then swap them back later) just to jazz things up a bit.

But on quiet Friday nights, like these, I’m ever thankful he’s here to keep company. My choice companion, my faithful friend.