Waiheke Redux

Today started out as a take-it-slow day — a bit of a sleep in. Time to email and Skype. A lazy breakfast.

The question of "what should we do today?" didn't come up until 10:30am. We wanted to pick up a road map (just in case the camper van doesn't come with one). We wanted to hit the Kiwi equivalent of a dollar store to pick up a couple of containers that we could use as soap dishes when on the road. And then?

We tossed around the idea of spending the day wandering The Domain and visiting the green houses they have there. Or maybe we should go out to the Botanical Gardens? Why not since they are free. OR.... we could head back to Waiheke to do some tramping about on the coastal trails there. Once we hit upon that idea, it was a done deal.

Do the errands and catch the 1 p.m. ferry. Done. We found a cheap pita place with heaps of fresh toppings (beets! pickles! julienned carrots!) that had a lineup out the door (that's my motto to find decent food in New Zealand now — there has to be people inside that look happy and it has to be reasonably priced) and grabbed it to go. An easy lunch to have on the ferry ride over.

At the ferry docks we were met with the sight of two towering cruise ships that had come in from Australia to dock for the night. They were higher than a 6 story building. I guess I've never seen one up close because I was slightly aghast at the size of them.







There are several hikes you can take right from the ferry terminal on Waiheke. They are circular, so you don't have to see the same scenery twice, unless you choose to. We picked to turn right out of the ferry gate and take the Matiatia/Church Bay/Oneroa loop which stretches along the coastline on the southern part of the island. It takes a few hours to do and there are various points where you can take side trails off to a road or winery.




This coming weekend, there is a renowned outdoor sculpture festival on the island called Headlands. I'd noticed the signs around Auckland and Waiheke and was slightly bummed that it was happening after we'd left Auckland. Yet, we were in for a surprise treat! The opening night of the festival is this coming Thursday which meant all the participating artists were out along the trail working on installing their pieces. We got to chat with many of them and hear about their process. Really, it was ideal as most of the artists we spoke with won't be there when the exhibit is actually happening... and we got to do the walk without any of the crowds!

















The tramp alone, with the views was gorgeous, but to have the added value of a myriad of sculptures along the way — priceless! The sculptures will be up for a few weeks and some of them should change in that time as they interact with the rain, wind and sun.





The trail offered us lots of chances to hop down to little beaches that appear when the tide is out and we took advantage of these little side trips several times along our hike. There was this perfect little swimming hole and another spot that was ideal for a snack break!





The other thing that the coastal walks allow for is some good house spotting. The "richies" on the island have snagged some of the most stunning coastal stretches, however, they cannot impede the right-of-way for the hiking trails. This means lots of opportunity for ogling the architectural eye candy! We even walked by the property of the richest man in New Zealand! Can't keep us yobs out!







After all our meandering along, we realized that if wanted to hit a winery to sample any of the vintages that Waiheke is known for, we had best get a move on! We hoofed it (and I mean hoofed it) up the side of an enormous mountain. Well, it was a large hill that felt awfully mountain like as it only kept going up and up and up. By the time we hit the road, we were sure we wouldn't make it before the tasting rooms closed so we hitched a ride with a friendly New Zealander and his brother who was visiting from the U.K.

This got us to the entrance of Mudbrick Winery at 3:55pm. Our brochure said that the tasting room closed at 4pm. Hmmm... we looked at each other and started running. Turning the last bend of the l-o-n-g driveway, we noticed the building looked suspiciously as though it was NOT closing at 4 p.m. Red faced and dripping with sweat (Keir was sopping) we burst into the room only to be informed that tastings close at 7 p.m. during the summer months. Dang it!



The kind fellow (who was also impeccably dressed...as was everyone else in the place....whoops!) offered us a jar of water and after guzzling it down we then set about doing a tasting. No guzzling here though — we savored our time and each sip, enjoying another breathtaking view and wandering the immaculately groomed grounds. If we ever were going to tie the knot, this would be the ideal place to do it. (Margaret, if you'll foot the bill, we'll set the date!)
















Slightly red cheeked (for a different reason this time!) we again hit the road, heading back towards the ferry terminal, stopping to have another little snack at a picturesque picnic table obviously set there just for us!



Back in Auckland we made a beeline towards the little strip where we'd gotten our delicious Indian take out the night before. We'd noticed that there were several Japanese restaurants along there as well and had decided on sushi for dinner. We picked up some maki rolls from one place and some yakitori and wasabi seaweed salad from another. It was a colorful and crazy tasty dinner! Yay!



Ummm... by the way...who counts parking time in 24 and 48 hour stretches IN MINUTES?!?!






Tomorrow, we pick up our camper van, leave Auckland and head north into the New Zealand wilds. Auckland is a nice city, but a little too much what we know from home. Out visits to Waiheke Island have given us a taste of what lies ahead in our travels around the countryside and we're ready for more of that!



We'll be reporting in from the road whenever we can.

On Tour In Waiheke

In Fiji, it's not uncommon to slip down to the corner liquor store when out dining and pick up a bottle of wine to go with dinner. BYOB. Very civilized, those Fijians.

During one of these runs, at a liquor store called Sally's in SavuSavu, I noticed a short, wiry Ronnie Wood look-a-like with a pretty Fijian girl buying a bottle of vodka. We nodded to each other, I bought some wine and I went back to my dinner.

So it is the following morning, as we waited for the plane to leave the island at the Savusavu landing strip, where we can say that we formally met Mike (he is not named Ronnie, too bad). Mike has a home on the island of Waiheke, one of Auckland's Hauraki Gulf Islands and therefore only accessible by boat, and has also bought property in Fiji on Venua Levu, down by the Salt Lake — his little retirement place, he figures.

He's an affable guy. We have a nice chat about Fijian land and politics and before long he's scrawling his phone number on a piece of paper. "If you want to see my island when you come to Auckand, give me a call. You'll come by the house and see the view."

And so we do! Mike picks us up from the ferry terminal on Waiheke just after 10:00 a.m. in his black Holdon Commodore V8 which growls when he steps on the gas and feels like he's holding back an angry pit bull. In the passenger seat is his nine year old daughter, Isla, on summer holiday from school and suffering from a bit of a cough. Mike drives us into town and drops us off while he takes Isla to see a doctor. We agree to meet up in an hour.

In town, we tour a couple of galleries and shops and then run into Paora Te Rangiuaia who is a renowned Maori sculptor. His little shops sells sculptures, artworks and jewelry, but we spend all our time talking to him about the Les Lapidiales project which he has been working on in three month stints for the past two years.








Les Lapidiales is a collective of sculptors from all over the world working on large scale pieces on the sides of cliffs and in caves near-ish to Bordeaux. Inside the caves, theater art and dance is performed. Eventually, the ceiling of the caves will all be carved as well. The outside of the caves are being sculpted/transformed by many different artists relating some aspect of their cultural creation story — very "hall of man".

Paora is an extremely present man who speaks passionately about his process and his work. After talking with him for twenty minutes, we're already considering chucking our NZ plans and heading to France just to see the project up close ourselves! Check his work out at www.ikonz.co.nz. We can't actually check out his site (it's in Flash — one of the things the iPad can't do), but we are including it here as we think it will be good (and hopefully have a link to the Les Lapidiales which you can read about online or see videos about on YouTube).

With Isla given the okay by the doctor, Mike picks us up and begins a tour around the island in the Commodore, taking us to various beaches and vantage points to see the stunning views of Waiheke.


Mike is an interesting guy. Born in Gurnsey, he moved to Waiheke with his family when he was two and has spent all his life here. His family had a large farm on a plot of land overlooking the sea and when his father died suddenly (not sure what happened to mum) he and his brother were left a trust that took so long to sort out and involved so many lawyers that once he and his brother had paid everyone, they were left with little.

However, there was another family plot of land by the sea and he bought out his brother's share, pitched a tent and made it home for a year before putting up a garage which he lived in for several years. He worked odd jobs — mechanic, maintenance, landscaping, but most of his income it seems has come from slowly parcelling up and selling his land around him.

Did we mention the view?




Breathtaking. "Hideous," Mike calls it which we can only assume is the NZ version of wicked. Because it is! The best view we se all day anywhere on the island and Mike, now living in his small but comfortable house which he built for his family when Isla came along, knows he is perched on one piece of very prime property. "Some day a richie will come along and put up a mansion here," he chuckles. When he's ready to sell it. He's sitting on a goldmine.

In the meantime, he lives off the proceeds of his land sales. Next door, once his land, a modern architectural home is going up, a far contrast to his prefabricated bungalow. He's an avid fisherman. He has the puffy face and red nose and cheeks of a tippler. From the sounds of things, Waiheke has a more than a few of those. It's a small island with a small town mentality. It seems everyone knows everyone and their business. It's a gossip island.

Separated from Isla's mum, Mike finds his long distance relationship with Farisha in Fiji a struggle. He'd like Farisha to come and live with him on Waiheke, but NZ immigration doesn't take kindly to Fijians entering the country and so there is a lot of paperwork to be done, visas to be sorted.

We fly around the island in the Commodore which has no problem navigating the hills and curves. We go into Isla's school. This is a real treat as the school is an inquiry based school (something we have a great deal of experience with!). The set up is great — a semi circle of classroom buildings (two classrooms in each building separated by a centre common space between them). In the middle of the semi circle is well landscaped outside amphitheater space. There is a lovely auditorium/gymnasium on the outside of the semicircle on one side, growing gardens (which the students tend to), and a large (and very cool looking) playground surrounded by green hills and fields.







Mike nips into the school to speak with the principal's secretary (the principal is not in as it is still summer break) and talk us up. Out he comes with a card and an assurance that, if we are interested in working at the school, we should send our resumes in. Good thing we brought all that along with us! Could we be on the cusp of another job offer?!

After a quick stop at the house for a peek at the view and a game of tennis with Isla, Mike drives us down to the beach to see where his boat is moored (well, one of his boats!).


The past few days in NZ, there has been a king tide (a high tide in combination with heavy rains and heavy winds), meaning all sorts of flooding and weather anomalies. One end of Onetangi Beach is covered mightily with horseshoe mussel shells, the sight of which catches even Mike off guard. "I've never seen this many on this beach before!" The shells are all empty so Mike figures they were all dead and sitting out in the deep until the king tide pushed them up. Isla and Jenn busily chuck sea stars back into the ocean.








We have lunch at Charley Farleys on the beach. The sun comes out and we forget to put on sunscreen, which we pay for later. Mike talks more about his future, whether he'll sell up and move to another cheaper plot of land on Waiheke? Or stay where he is? Or move it all down to Fiji. With his thick Kiwi accent and one liners, he's a funny guy to listen to. He seems to know almost everyone. People are dropping by throughout the meal to shake hands and exchange pleasantries. "Just the bone I wanted to chew on," says Mike when he sees one fellow. Isla doubles over with giggles and asks Mike to share more of his funny greetings. He can't seem to remember them under pressure, "They just flow out of me in the moment," he says sheepishly.




"C'mon, I'll take you for a tinkly-too about the island." He takes us to Orapiu, all the way on the other end of Waiheke, past wineries and giant mansions. He complains that the richies are all here now, that back when he bought his property 24 years ago, it was just a quiet little sleepy island of farmers. Now it's all high class wineries, Porshe's, big mansions and yachts. "It's changed a lot with these richies," he says. "Not like the old days."




The wind is blowing like a gale force at the other end of the island. He spies on a couple strolling along the road before climbing into a truck. "That's not his wife," says Mike. "I know his wife. She's a lovely gal."

"It could be completely innocent?" we suggest hopefully.

"Maybe," he says, but I can tell he's not convinced. He watches them intently for a long time. "I'm going to have to give his wife a call and let her know what's going on."

We're getting a taste of the small island drama.

He has us back for the 5:45 p.m. ferry. We thank him profusely, hug, and exchange eMail addresses. He invites us to stay at his house if we want to come again, for longer.

Back in Auckland, we pick up some Indian take out from The Curry Box, a little hole in the wall we discover walking home from the ferry.

It's our best meal in Auckland so far.

Final Thoughts on Fiji

While walking on our Rangitoto volcano hike, Jenn and I had lots of time to reflect on our time in Fiji.

It was always my dream to visit Fiji — a dream that went something like white sand beaches, warm sun and breezes and some sort of spiked coconut drink under a palm tree. That wasn't the Fiji we got, although that Fiji is there... if you want to pay for it. Most of the big resorts, on small islands off the main island, offer this version of Fiji.








I did get that coconut drink though...

We had read on TripAdvisor that one should get off of the main island to see the real Fiji, which is why we chose to stay in SavuSavu, on the island of Vanua Levu. Had we stayed in a resort, I wonder how much interaction we would have had with the people of Fiji? There would have been plenty of coconut drinks and sandy beach, but not so much of what became the very best part of our Fijian adventure which was meeting all the people — Fijians and expats — who took the time to speak with us and welcome us into their homes and lives. That was the unexpected part of the visit and a pleasant surprise it was. It gave us a chance to practice right from the outset what it is we wish to focus on, which is simply being. And by doing that, we got to know some fascinating people and got a good glimpse of Fijian life.




















Jeff and Susan's property is the Fijian dream without the resort — the charming breezy cottage, private outdoor shower and bure, the long sandy beach with great snorkel spots out front and the pure bliss of the sound of lapping waves and nothing else. I confess that when we first visited their place, I was envious and briefly disappointed with our small cottage across the bay. Why didn't we stay here, I thought? It was as close to my Fijian dream as anywhere I had seen.

And yet, returning back to our cottage that evening, to the laughter of the neighbours out on their verandah, the yapping dogs, people passing and saying hello, I realized that the solitude and comforts of Susan and Jeff's tropic splendor meant missing all this — Fijian life up close and personal.

The best part was that Susan and Jeff invited us back to spend the day on their beach and in their bure, which gave us a taste of that experience. We truly had the best of both worlds.








Other thoughts:

• Fijians are very friendly and seem to have time for everyone to chat and socialize. The smiles are true — wide, white and welcoming. They are so genuine, smiling heartily with their eyes and hearts. Although our visit was briefly soured at the end by the theft of my water shoes and the attempted entry into our locked cottage, we felt very safe there and encountered such sweet people. No one seemed in a rush and everyone had time to speak with us and share stories. This became a huge part of our day and lead to so many new adventures. Contrast this with arriving in Auckland where everyone seems to be consumed and highly focussed with no time to stop and chat. In the first few days of being in Fiji, we met three times the amount of people we've met so far in Auckland. Jenn and I were musing if this has something to do with the unhurried pace of life in Fiji? No one seems focussed too much on anything. Here in Auckland, and in any large city, people seem to be so intent on getting things done and getting through the week, that when they finally do have down time, they just want to decompress — thoughts of socializing with people are a long way off. In Fiji, it's ALL downtime, no need to seek out decompression time. No one ever gets compressed! And therefore, they always have time for other people, whether to chat or to share a meal.


• As Jenn said, "I liked Fiji, but my body didn't. I was constantly water logged, developing heat rash and bumpy and pruney skin."

January in Fiji is not the best time and if you're planning on visiting, try to avoid the summer months. It is indeed the rainy season and although the days can be, and are sunny, it's darn hot and you can barely cut the humidity with a machete. You never feel dry — damp clothes, damp sheets, damp skin. Both of us came away with rashes on various parts of our bodies (don't ask) due to the dampness and humidity. Rakesh, our new golf pro pal who we met in Nadi, says the best time to come to Fiji is in June and July when temps are around 16 or 17 degrees C, there is no rain, plenty of breeze and no humidity. Personally, I'd take it a little warmer than that which means visiting later in the year. But January and February? — Reconsider.

• Despite the humidity, both of us felt very comfortable in Fiji. With warm (did we say warm?) water and coral reefs all around and some rugged terrain, there's plenty to do. Great kayaking, hiking, snorkeling. And lots of people to meet with. Ten days was WAAY to short — just the tip of the kava root you might say The more we were there, the more people we met and the more opportunities that arose for us. We would like to go back — yes we would!

• The fruit and vegetable options in Fiji are incredible. Terrific produce, great variety - a locavores dream! The pineapples we ate were the juiciest and sweetest we've ever had (even beating out Dominica's). The papaya (pawpaw) tasted phenomenal when squeezed over with a wedge of fresh lime. The bananas were sweet (yet somehow simultaneously tart!). The spinach, although different in leaf shape and taste (when raw) cooked up beautifully. The corn was course and very grainy, yet highly addicting. And the coriander....oh the coriander...different leaf shape entirely and a smell more potent than the Canadian version. When Jenn added some fresh to her fish curry, I had to banish her to the other side of the table. Not my favourite coriander. The taste however (so I'm told at least) is softer and more subtle.









We are still figuring out how best to post photos to our gallery. Check the Gallery link on the side bar of our blog over the next few days and hopefully we'll get posted some more photos from our Fiji adventures.

What's changed?

When Keir and I were paddling across Savusavu's expansive bay he asked me: "Has anything shifted for you so far?"

Ahhh, The Shift.... the reason why we embarked on the journey we did. To Shift from the Then to the Now. To shift from what was to what is.

Yes. I have noticed a Shift already. The most important being the freeing from the unhealthy work environment that we were both part of (or as we refer to it as, "THAT Place"). The minute the clock struck midnight on January 1, 2011 and Keir had no more ties to It, there was a switch that flipped in me. It was truly that easy. I did not have to be a buffer for the emotional nonsense pile that Keir brought home daily, I did not have to worry about his professional, his physical, or his emotional safety when he was there, and I did not have to think about all those people, the ones that had so easily turned a blind eye to the harassment and to the wrongdoing... to those who had so easily turned their blind eye towards us.

For the first time in the five years that this ordeal has been plaguing us, there was a respite. It. Was. Over. So over.

All our best supports had said that at some point there would come a time when the experience went from being Up Close to being able to be viewed through the lens of Distance. That time has come.

That Place went from taking up roughly 70-80% (despite my best intentions to not let it) of my head space (daily) to taking up barely a % now. Really. It completely completely dissolved. There is a space that is made free.

Still, I wonder though, how did I let it happen? A strong independent go-getter with a clear sense of right and wrong. How had I stayed in a place that bred unhealthiness, that breathed nastiness like air?

A large part of the "professional" culture there is that you are taught to think that no one anywhere will ever want you again. You are taught (simultaneously) that you are marvellous and Not Enough. Folks who have, in some way, grown up with the feeling of Do More, Be Better seem to gravitate to That Place. And it sucks them dry. It takes and takes and takes. If you can turn that blind eye, you are somewhat freed. But are you?

You do not choose to leave That Place. No one CHOOSES to leave. You are either fired (or pushed out), or you retire. That is it. That Place does not like it when someone breaks up with them. The person who does the breaking up is quickly made into the enemy. It doesn't compute to them - why would you leave? On the inside, you are told (overtly and not), that the biggest mistake you could ever make is to leave. The story of the one person leaving voluntarily only to realize her mistake and return, tail between her legs, with stories of The Horrid Outside is told and retold. This is what will happen to you if you leave....except....we may it be so forgiving, in fact, may never let you back in. The message is clear: don't test us.

I was not who I wanted to be there. So much energy went into working. I became work - it was WHO I WAS. And for a time it was ALL I was. It became the coping strategy. If I could focus on being a teacher then I could ignore what was happening to me in the professional environment. I truly did try though - I really did believe that if I could model appropriate professional behaviour (especially when dealing with the harrasser) that the situation would improve. I truly did believe that my principal was going to support me and know how to put a stop to what was happening. I truly believed that by loving what it was that I did and focussing on my time with the students that it would outweigh the emotional minefield that had to be encountered daily. And, when I lost that (when I left), I struggled mightily for some time trying to figure out what was left of ME.

I'm still confused as to what it is that "will come next". But I am healthier again. My "Jenn spark" seems to be returning. I have a sense of humor again. The gripping tightness that had my heart in such a vice for those 5 long years has eased off. Like Keir has said, the jar lid is loosening.

Although I know that I was a very talented educator, I still am not able to imagine myself in a classroom or part of another educational community. So, the struggle remains, "what DO I want to do then?" This entire experience has been a test of my faith in that respect. I had always pushed myself to "make things happen". What if I didn't do that though, I wondered? What if, instead, I just waited to see what came along?

That has been the largest challenge in this letting go. Some days I feel as though I am truly released and open to what comes (and confident that something WILL come). Other days I have a real panic rise up in me - a voice that says "you ninny, you have to MAKE it happen, jobs just don't drop from the sky - no matter if you are talented and capable or not". Some days I don't even feel talented and capable. Like the tides, my faith-o-meter rises and falls.

Now, with the gift of distance, I can see that it all alright...that it is going to be alright. I am now able to refer to the people there without flinching. I remember the things that I loved when I first started....the magic and the feeling of being part of something truly meaningful. The bad things are still there inside me, but there is no strength to the voice now. They are still there. Just anecdotally. They are not who I am, just part of something that once was.

And for the first time since leaving the city, I have hope that Keir and I WILL find our place.








Note from the author: Yeah, sorry about all the things in quotations and the bolded words...if I could use italics on the blog that all would be minimized. Then again, those of you who know me well know that I DO speak emphatically! Tee hee.

These Boots Were Made For Walking

One of our big purchases before we left for this trip was to stop by Mountain Equipment Coop to get matching Solomon 3D Fastpacker hiking boots (along with our matching MEC fleeces — we look quite the team, yes we do...)

Our virgin boots finally got broken in today when we make the ferry trip across the bay to the volcano that can be seen everywhere in Auckland and is known as Rangitoto or "sky blood" island. We are assuming the bloody sky refers to the shooting magma the Maori witnessed when the volcano burst forth from the sea all those years ago. But, it could also refer to the people who have fallen while hiking along the jagged rock lined trails and scraped off some major skin...







The weather forecast for the next few days is crap rain and more crap rain. Undeterred and armed with our newly replaced rain gear (thanks North Face and Marmot for standing by your gear!), we set out a full day of hiking with hopes of a great views of the city and the surrounding gulf when we reach the top.

On Rangitoto, there are numerous trails that take you to the top — some taking roundabout routes, others going directly straight up. We start out tramping through the Kidney Fern Grove with ferns that furl and unfurl with the rain, get lost and then find the main track and bomb up what's known as the Summit Track.





Plenty of places along the way to see the Auckland city scape and also lots of hot, burning magma rock which will melt the soles of your boots in seconds if you stand still too long:







No, not really.

Near the top is a trail that leads to the lava caves, a highlight for Jenn because it means she can finally use her headlamps, also purchased at MEC before we left. The caves are very dark and very cool and only at one tight squeeze did we consider turning back and running out.



















Reaching the summit, you encounter a giant crater, point zero for all the volcanic action when things got messy on Rangitoto. We hike around the crater and then have our lunch at the lookout point where we meet the native parakeets (the kakariki) on the island and some Brit gents visiting NZ and arguing about camera lenses. (Note: they did not know what a racing snake is, Dale!)





















We take the long way down and head over to the connecting island of Motutapu. Here, landscape is vastly different - no magma rock, just pastures and grass. Mindful of catching the ferry back, we only venture to the small bridge that joins the two islands before heading back past a couple of small wharfs and then along a rocky coastal trail requiring some nimble footing.





We were surprised to see heaps of wild lavender growing near the ferry dock. It smelled sweeter and less potent than the Canadian lavender. Perhaps the honey is sweeter too!







A very good hiking day through interesting terrain and a good test for the boots, which passed with flying colours. And the rain holds off right until we'd board the ferry for home!

While the wine selection here in Auckland is top notch, the food so far is disappointing. Tonight we taxi out to an area in town known as Parnell to eat at a small Italian bistro we'd spotted while out walking. It looks great with its authentic Italian decor, but the food is second rate.





Not the ending to a great day we were hoping for. But, at home, we do have chocolate and more good NZ Chardonnay. Suddenly, the evening is improving...

Perhaps we'll try out Ponsonby which is known for its great restaurants and see if the culinary situation improves. So far, the best meals have been here in room 1514 in our small, but functional kitchen!