Precious time

Time plays the funniest tricks on us, doesn't it? I mean, sometimes I feel like I have time, time, time, the luxury of a world where there is no urgency. Other times it feels like it takes off and leaves me hanging on in its wake, anxious to catch it up and harness it just a little. One thing I do know is that time here is precious and has an inevitable end point. But just because something is precious doesn't mean there's a need to squeeze it, to wring it out, to leave every day an empty husk. Life, my friend, is not an orange. Nor when it comes down to it, is it a box of chocolates. I suspect it's a little bit more like trail mix. Hopefully New Zealand trail mix with chocolate raisins and dried bananas as well as the occasional dried mango and coconut. For these things we put up with the pumpkin seeds and sultanas, and we can eat it in pinches or we can take handfuls, but we can always leave some for another trail.

Sometimes I write these things over the period of 24 hours or more. I've had a bit of an oh shit moment thinking about time and how it's used. Clarity has hit me and I realise that this wasn't who I was before Dave died. I was much more relaxed about use of time. I had even been known to spend an evening watching TV or a weekend at home. I know. Odd isn't it. But clearly there's an urgency to me now, and not logical but I realise time feels like it's running out, purely because Dave didn't make it to 47 which means on some weird level I've only got a couple of years to do, well, everything. So, no, I haven't stopped running. But I kind of want to. It's hard.

Even knowing this, even giving myself permission to slow it down, to smell the lilac (it's out in New Zealand at the moment), I somehow can't. I arrived in Lake Taupo this afternoon, meandered up the hill with the Bloody Big Bag, put up the tent and instead of chilling, which I could have done, having the kindle and all the food I needed, I somehow felt time was wasted if I didn't go down to the Lake. Which I did, had fish and chips and a beer and a meander. I'm only here for just under 48 hours. I didn't want to waste it. I'm trying not to be mental. Must try harder!

Because precious time is slipping away …

Say Goodbye

I never can say goodbye, oh nononono, I never can say goodbye. Every time I think I've had enough and start heading for the door …

Tomorrow is travel day. Hence the goodbye type lyrics pounding through my head.

I am such a tourist. Tonight is my last (6^th) night in Rotorua so today was a thriftless tourist day. I went to Hells Gate and bathed in mud and in warm geothermal water. My skin feels drowsy and there's a slight tang of sulphur in everything I wear.

Today I am thankful for:

1. Mud. Glorious mud. You can start taking for granted that you pass by mud which steams and boils. I took a couple of steps back today to really appreciate the incredible nature of it, and to be astounded that the magma spike is near enough to the earth's surface to create this somewhat incredible environment. Temperatures close to water's boiling point and one pool with a pH of 1. How amazing is that. I really shouldn't take these natural phenomena for granted.
2. Annapurna pack. It's packed, it's ready and this time it isn't half so heavy and I'm not using the extended top bit. Thank goodness. Some things have been chucked, some given away, others are packed up ready to await my return in the UK.
3. Gabitril. I don't even know what Gabitril is, but I do know that it's the name on the side of my thermal mug, which I assume was a many years ago freebie arriving in my household. But I do love the mug. The size and volume of it making it one of the luxuries I'm travelling with. It's lack of known history adds to its air of mystery and makes me smile.
4. Camping. Yeay, I'm camping tomorrow night. I'm very excited and have had another trial run to put the tent up. A little apprehensive, but hey, it's a tent, what can possibly go wrong … I suspect this isn't the last we will hear of the tent.
5. Fast drying clothes. Hope they are dry by the morning. Currently have hanging one pair of shorts, one t-shirt, a swimming costume, cycling shorts, a pair of socks and PJ bottoms (shorts for those who are concerned I may have taken fleece with me).
6. Post Christmas sales. Particularly in the cake department which I have to thank for the spicy apple strudels.
7. Kiwi tour guides. Oh my word, they are bizarre. The weird American type thing where insincerity dresses up as sincerity, and everything is jolly, happy and everyone is their best friend. I'm totally reciprocating. Because I can.
8. Wraps at the museum. I should have returned to the hostel for an exciting cheese sandwich, but sod it, had a wonderful wrap at the museum. Everything was in it. Chicken, bacon, brie, peppers, lettuce, cabbage, unidentifiable greenery. A crunchy packed piece of goodness.
9. Rain. Warm rain, the type you don't bother with a coat for. Because being, as I am, dressed by North Face I don't get cold and clothes dry out. The whole co-ordinated North Face look is an accident. They are the only light weight leg zip off trousers I have and have been invaluable. Equally of the two light weight poly quick drying Ts I possess, one is North Face, the other (predictably given my previous job) is Adidas. I wash them on alternate days.
10. Bacon and eggs. On Toast. My tea. Sweet.

It's funny, there's a bit of me feels some sense of shame that I'm not being more brave and adventurous. I don't even know why. I can't decide if it's because I feel I should be pushing myself more or if it's a “what will folk think?” type thing. I confess, the latter is slightly less likely because generally that's not really how I roll. Or is it I wonder. Do I feel I'll be judged if I simply gently meander my way along, being me, just being not so much doing. I'm liking the being not doing. It feels like my mind is taking a long needed holiday.

Something Stupid

And if we go someplace to dance, I know that there's a chance you won't be leaving with me. And afterwards we drop into a quiet little place and have a drink or two.

Sigh. I find myself oozed into a place of nostalgic sentimentality, and frankly (which is a nice little Frank & Nancy pun if you feel the need) there's no point fighting it. In my head I'm Nancy.

I'm attempting peaceful reading in evenings and other times when I'm not on the bike. I'm, if I'm honest, a little bit anxious about the non healing nature of my blisters. Well, not anxious perhaps but mindful of the need to stay off my feet. My head is restless and would love to be bimbling down into town or to the lake and just kind of lurking and enjoying being and seeing but I can still feel the ache in the soles of my feet fairly strongly every time I sit and acknowledge it. And every step I take hurts. Not in a big bad fat way, and it's less every day but again, acknowledging it is there despite my best efforts to deny it and soldier on. I'm hoping three days of the bike and murderously cautious effort to stay off the feet will bring me closer to cure. They are improving. The little toe one is now hard skin and free of pain. The left foot one is now no more hurty than an annoying itch. You know it's there but no more. The right foot one I've put another dressing on today. It's still a bit balloon like. But you know, if it doesn't kill you it makes you stronger, and I reckon for blisters that's the truth really because the hardened skin which appears in their place is bound to add protection, right? And it's quite a few days until the Abel Tasman trail … ...

1. Aussie trail mix has chunks of dark chocolate in it. Well, it does if you carefully scan the aisles and discount the 20 different kinds which are not comprised of chocolatey goodness.
2. 48 hour antiperspirant deodorant. Why would anyone buy anything less?
3. Makes me smile that I'm reading on the Kindle (where frankly the temptation to just download indiscriminately chick lit mind fodder is overwhelming) a book where the main character is currently in prison. Can't help noticing that unconsciously I'm referring to my room as a cell. It is actually less well equipped than the prisoner's. His has a toilet.
4. Kiwi sweet tooth – the Chai tea is cloyingly sweet. A wonderful Christmas drink and an evening comfort but for the sweet of tooth. Also the Twinings New Zealand Breakfast tea is not as I thought it might be. It definitely has the Earl Grey Bergamot thing going on in more ways than I thought a morning tea would. I like my tea to give me a bit of a kick up the arse in the mornings, and the kiwi struggles even with brewing and significant squishing to yield much more than a soft smokiness. Oh yes, I am British, despite my best efforts to well, kind of fit in. Equally I'm favouring a long black over a flat white. I like my drinks strong, dark and bitter. And can't resist the “like my men” pun which is well, if not obligatory, at least traditional.
5. Odd thing, Open Uni. There are tasks along the way, set to challenge us, to stretch us, make us explore and use techniques and see if we can make them ours. I have a task of remembering a trivial or not incident from when I was sixteen and recreating it, including dialogue for about 200 words. It's a good job it's a creative writing section and not counselling as there isn't one incident or phase from that year I can think of to write about which doesn't make me sad (proper hard to swallow lump in the throat stuff) or indeed slightly angry. I remember upsetting my brother, I remember my sister withdrawing into herself inaccessible, I remember my dad being angry, I remember my mum being properly bewilderingly over the top agitated (a bit like now really, but at least she's not drama queen sitting on the stairs in her nightie right now, or perhaps she is but I can't see her). Lower sixth, 16. And this does make the list of ten things I'm thankful for because it's kind of good to see how the grown up me was formed. Teenage years made me somehow more solid, and that's a good thing. Oooh, and I buckled down and did the work, and found something to write. And in the end it was fun. Plonked at the end of this entry along with my thoughts on writing it … yawn, boring I know for anyone reading this but hey, tough, it's all about me!
6. Time difference. It's really making me giggle. Yes, proper giggle out loud. It is a good thing I have a single room after all. Although I have got to grips with what time it is in the UK. When it comes to knowing what day it is I get a little tied in knots. Thanks to my technological ineptitude, my computer clock still shows UK time, but more hilariously the phone somehow is showing two times. It has some kind of weather app on it which is kindly letting me know it's raining in Rotorua (I had worked this out funnily enough) but also shows me the time here. But above that is a clock showing UK time. This means I can avoid waking folk in the middle of the night. Unless they are my friend who has the camper van because I know he is never asleep before 2am so he has become the recipient of my small hours of the morning texts on those occasions when I have something joyful I just have to share or I will burst. It meant I had to think hard about whether it was Christmas day or not, and I guess it'll be the same at New Year …
7. That smell after rain. It's different here. In the UK it's amazing, different in warm weather to cold, but the after rain smell that ought to be clean but is somehow earthy is different here. Here I have to open my mouth too so I can taste the smell, and it has traces of maybe eucalyptus, oils, slightly acrid which taste of smokiness too. It's amazing.
8. Sulphurous landscape. I walked gently back from the bike hire place today along the town's sulphur trail. It may not be like visiting Mars and it may not be one which makes you catch your breath and your heart swell into your rib cage but it is something the like of which I haven't seen before. There may not be giddy mountains, splendid waterfalls, lush alien vegetation, and indeed it is largely flat and grey but still something I've never seen before, and in case I never do again, I took the time to walk alongside it, walk between it, walk within it and commit it to memory.
9. Larger than life families. There's some girls staying here from an island they describe as being two hours north of North Island. Their native language is French and they are spending a lot of time just being with each other in the kitchen. Or at least they are there everytime I go in. I'm not sure if they've done much else other than be together. Today wider family have visited, and the kitchen is filled with family, and laughter and cooking of chops and sausages. I can hear the laughter along the balcony. I can feel the warmth when I go through the door. I like them. They probably think I drink a lot of tea. They may not be wrong.
10. Cake. I bought a multi pack of four different cake slices a few days ago. Afternoon tea & cake. Today's was nearly bakewell but not quite. All have been interesting, some surprising.

My bit of reality based creative writing ...

We're here, we're here, she squeaked, but just in her head, breaking out only as an unstoppable grin. The wriggling with excitement was kept to trainer trapped toes, because she was not 6 as she reminded herself. The Mini was now parked, one of many many cars in the field. Around them, people were busy getting out all kinds of things, rucksacks, deckchairs, some had cool boxes and picnic baskets. She hadn't thought to bring much, just a carrier bag with purse and cagoule.

“Where do we go now?” she asked, trying to hide her impatience to be inside.

“over there, look the way in where the others are going” he said smiling.

“Have you both got everything” asked Paul, his broad smile taking in both of them.

“yes, I've only got these bits” she replied. Phil nodded and took her hand.

“let's go!” Paul shrugged his small rucksack onto his wide back, turned in the direction of the entrance.

“shall we get a programme?” Phil asked

“oooh, yes please, I want to know when things are on.”

Paul led the way, as usual the determine clip clop of his crutches cutting a path through the crowd.

Alison's reflections on writing ...

Trying hard to “show not tell”. 16 is so young and thinks it's old. Trying to get across that this is her first ever rock concert (although it could equally have been races or anything). She's ill prepared, she's young enough that normally her parents might have taken some part in preparing her, but she has come without sunblock, water, or a warm jumper for the evening. The carrier bag is also telling, of both preparedness and cash strappedness. I know this because she was me and I could have done with both … but I was kind of young for my age in many ways and naïve and didn't really have anyone to share experience and support my thinking and planning process. It was an age where perhaps some being coached would have been appropriate in helping me to find my own wings. My learning curve seemed to be kind of unsupported in some ways, encouraging independent thought quite beautifully.

Paul was also a bit more grown up, worldly wise (oh at 19 or 20 years old). He was the driver and the one who'd been to such things before, and also an odd mix of paternal with patronising. He was also the larger character than Phil, my boyfriend at 16. The crutches reference is a little bit throw away to be honest. To me, it's just a description of fact, it's nothing dramatic or big, because crutches was simply how Paul got around because of his spina bifida. Sometimes a big part of who he is, sometimes not, but certainly something which demanded attention as he made his way through crowds. This enormous upper body and huge personality atop tiny legs.

Does it need the “trying to hide her impatience to be inside” sentence or is that shown enough in her opening words? I'm hopeful the direct reference to the vehicle type does something to add to the passage indicating youth (even though at 44 years old I still own a mini). I worked really hard to keep the language simple. Did about three redrafts to keep it more in line with how a 16 year old would have thought / written. It's funny doing that because at 16 my vocabulary was good and I wasn't afraid to use it, but I guess I'm just trying to make a 16 year old Alison conform. Bless her.

I realise I'm not comfortable writing dialogue. There's a lot of he asked, he said, he replied. If I read more dialogue maybe I'd find different techniques to do the same thing. Made slightly harder in a way by deciding to have the dialogue include three people.

In Paradise

Funny, recalling the day's ear worms. It's just another day for you, you and me in paradise. I suspect this one started with me checking up on the state of my blistered feet. She can't walk but she's trying. They still hurt if I'm honest, and for this I'm grateful for three days with bicycle.

Why can't every Christmas Day be like this one, eh? I've ridden the bike up and over a volcano, swum in a lake amidst glorious forest, ridden back over the volcano in a world of free wheeling glory back down to town. Ate my Christmas lunch under the giant Redwoods. Actually, hadn't really thought of it as Christmas lunch until I came to put the bike helmet back on when I realised I had quite nonchalantly replaced a turkey dinner with cheese sandwiches. Tradition is offiicially dead.

Riding the bike back to town, I got a yell from another cyclist, Alright mate, how's it going. It's like being in the bloody Peak District. I know people. Although this was an Aussie guy I spent some time chatting with out on the trails yesterday. I was kind of complaining about the lack of hills. By the time I'd sat in the shade reapplying the factor 50 he had come back to me with a suggestion. It's about 150m climbing, that, he said. I giggled. After the Pyrenees that does seem a little tame to be honest, but I took up his suggestion and off I went, to do “Gunna Gotta” followed by “A Tral”, “The Tickler” and “B Rude ot 2”. Kiwi trail names are enticing to say the least. My day had already seen me do Tahi, The Dipper, Creek Track, Grinder, Challenge, Soakhole and Geneisis.

Tomorrow's route is potentially going to include Frontal Lobotomy, Hot X Buns, maybe even Dragons Tail, who knows. Aiming to get to the 759m highest point, all depending on weather and legs. Legs are heavy today.

And the ten things of joy today are:

1. The Christmas muffin. Oh my word, imagine everything you like in Christmas cake and Christmas pudding and none of the things you don't like, and you have my Christmassy treat. Spot on.
2. Swimming in the lake. Frank at reception on hearing where I was intending to go said to take the cozzie, so it was in as a last minute addition. The water was not cold, just a delightful luke warm after a hot climb to the lake on the mountain bike. And I hung the rucksack from a tree while I swam.
3. Trees. Overcome with the grandeur and foreignness of the trees. Huge palm type things, water cascading off them even though it stopped raining some time ago. Redoods, tall, incredibly steep and very broad. Kind of wish I knew more about them, how long it takes to achieve that size etc.
4. Christmas presents. Carried all the way from the UK – I have indeed received four bicycle paperclips / bookmarks, three room scenters (might press one of those into use here, my hand washing habits are taking their toll), and an angel aerial tip (not sure about that one).
5. Chai Latte. Perfect Christmas drink. Kind of Chinese tea thing, syrup with cinnamon / nutmeg overtones with hot milk. Should really have been a bedtime drink but hey, I was thirsty early!
6. People. Chatted over the last 24 hours with the ever so tiny Chinese girl from the room across. Kind of timid mouse like creature who doesn't seem to leave the premises and practices some kind of musical instrument. We bonded over a kitchen power cut which clearly came to me as old burd and native english speaker to talk to the owners about. But she came with me. She's starting Uni at Cardiff in September doing something along the lines of Business Studies.
7. The welsh girls. Young and kind of confident but with that youthful edge where you combine knowing everything with understanding slightly less than everything. They are half working, half holidaying here. They don't sound welsh.
8. Kiwi men in the lake. Never seen such posing. Standing on the waterside raft thing making sure they are there long enough for people to see them before diving. Incy wincy swimming trunks. Ostentatious T-shirt removal and flexing of muscles. Just funny, bless them, if you've got it why the hell not.
9. My own 44 year old body. It's odd, some bits of it just look the same to me as they have done since the New Zealand dream popped into my head 25 years ago. I can't honestly see any change in my thighs, still the same moles, still the same old knees. Wonder why they haven't changed. My arms have, there's functional muscle. I sometimes look down at them and think, oh, that's interesting. And it's all OK wrapped up in a swimming costume. If anyone's looking their eyes will simply pass on by without a grimace of horror or a nudge of their mates. I am amazingly inconspicuous.
10. My microfibre mountain bike tracks map. I thought it was a t towel but no. Cost slightly more than your average trail map but I reckon it means I can ditch my travel towel when I leave here. I hate my travel towel. It did not live up to expectations. I reckon I must a few years ago have bought cheap and am regretting long term. It doesn't pack up as small as you might like, I should really have opted for a hand towel sized one anyway, and actually it doesn't bloody dry you. It just kind of pushes water around. Useless piece of shit. I think the map and me have a future together, and because of space limitations I've not taken on board a lot of souvenirs. It would be nice to have some mementos other than photos and memories of my travels, and the unexpected map come towel already makes me smile and hopefully will do so for some years to come.

Toot Toot

Toot Toot

You know you're gonna be special, my sweet little toot toot. I have no idea why this is going round my head like the ear worm it is.

It's like living with students. Everyone thinks that whoever's milk it is, they won't miss the amount needed for a cup of coffee. That is, until half the milk has gone. But it's not important, if I know it's going to happen I'll just buy twice the size. The important thing is making sure I have enough for me over Christmas. Do what it takes, don't fuss.

I have such a properly English complexion. I would not have lasted a summer in the kind of upper class Victorian England where having colour in your cheeks was considered somehow unacceptable. 3 hours in the sun in factor 30 and I could feel the soreness in my cheeks. Upped it today to factor 50 and there's a feeling of slight rawness. Oddly, my colour is not incredibly high (or I'd be embarrassed to be out in public). Just a feeling of having had a layer of skin shrivelled off me. Wonder if it's time to invest in the factor 70. It seemed slightly overkill and I had visions of it being a covering something along the lines of latex. Remember that scene in James Bond where they suffocated someone by covering their entire body in gold paint of some kind. That's what I think would happen to me in factor 70.

It's funny the superfluous stuff I have with me (soon to be sent home). In the UK doing outdoor stuff in the summer I tend to apply moisturiser which just happens to be factor 15. I brought it with me to NZ thinking to just use it as a moisturiser. Now it just seems like baggage. I suspect it may be used liberally every evening I'm in Rotorua and then disposed of on departure. I'm a little eager to lose some weight and volume from the Bloody Big Bag. It has got to the point where I'm frowning at myself for having two biros when one would do, and somehow two micro USBs when one would do. It smacks a little of desperation, eh? Curiously, I also feel I'm a pair of socks over requirement, perhaps also a pair of trousers and maybe a t-shirt. It all adds up.

Those who have travelled before have offered much advice on the casual clothing front. Be sure to have a going out outfit was one comment. Take jeans, you'll miss them if you don't was another. So I kind of combined the two bits of advice. Sort of. I have a pair of black going out trousers not jeans but not walking trousers, and a going out t-shirt. Funnily enough, it's little girlie frocks I find myself eyeing up in shop windows and on market stalls. Light weight, flouncy, flowery, short and floaty, pretty girly frocks. Imagine how little space that would take up in comparison to trousers and a t-shirt. But what about the shoes … … sigh. It'll be what it'll be. And maybe I'm a bit too old for the girlie frock thing?

Oooh, I have been out on a bike, I have been out on a bike, I have been out on a bike. And it's Christmas Eve, and all my shopping is done. Bike hire of a GT Avalanche 2013 model (I say that because latest model somehow sounds really swanky). We have danced through the Redwoods today, tomorrow we shall dance some more and the day after our final waltz ending in a crescendo otherwise known as a hill.

It's only 4pm and I can't limit my “things that made me happy” list to ten I'm afraid. Might have to do two lists today indeed …

1. Cranberry Muesli. New Zealand really grasp muesli. There is all kinds of stuff in it, it's flavoured and not just chewy monotony. I am ignoring the fact that when I got round to reading the ingredients there is a) sugar and b) some added oil content. After all, I need the calories …
2. GT Avalanche 2013 model. I hired a bike today and it made me excessively happy. It and me are going to play nicely for another two days. Today we bounced our way around the Redwoods, grinning for the most part.
3. “You're not bad for a Sheila”. Sigh. Praise and admiration indeed from a Kiwi guy. Joined up with a group of 3 blokes on the trail. Single track so we did that thing where you decide where you fit in the pecking order. I was fourth of four. Then the man in front of me let me in front of him, then the man in front of him let me in front of him. Then I was at the front. No, not bad for a Sheila. I kick kiwi arse.
4. “I love you”. Yes. Air Punch. I have exceeded my mother's dream for me. She anticipated I would spend Christmas with “a lonely man in a lonely bar”. I have done way better than that. In a ten minute bus ride I pulled and Jerry and my relationship reached the point where he could not help but say the magic words. He's 84, my intended, and in pretty good nick.
5. Bouncy trails. As you do, on new trails, tentatively find your way through the grades. Started at easy, moved to intermediate, found my level at advanced. The trails have no rocks, no mud, no hills. They are fairly pan flat packed stuff. Earth? Pumice? I don't really know, I just know it's hard with just a tiny bit of sandiness. The technical difficulties seem to be purely related to switchbacks, berms and steepness.
6. Open Uni – I'm really getting stuck into this, particularly knowing I'm sending the books back to the UK in a few days time. We're doing a module on language. The strange in speak you find yourself using amongst hobby groups. Look at the above. I remember when I didn't know what switchback or berm was. Climbing is the best for this with onsight, redpoint, grigris, prussiking, jumarring. A world of beautiful language to savour.
7. Hot mud pools. Happened on one of these in the middle of the mountain bike ride. Fabulous splollop noises. A world of bizarre
8. Living the dream. Another day when I remembered with clarity why 25 years ago I started dreaming about New Zealand. I couldn't name what it was that made me want to go when I started planning this year to make the trip. But the more I see, the more I go “oh yes, this is what I thought it would be like”. Oooh, I have a picture which paints more than a thousand words.
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
9. Chocolate honey muesli bar. I will not elaborate.
10. Mechanical competence. I loved that after 15 minutes out on the bike I turned back, took it back to the rental place and said this will not do. Bearings gone in the pedals. I knew what it wasn't, I knew it wasn't bottom bracket and I knew it wasn't chain but I knew damn well there was a grinding sensation but not when the cranks turned, only when I put any force through the pedals. And there was a damned annoying noise. I paid top whack for this bike hire. Hehehehe. I laugh because I'm comparing a £25 per day hire with the local utility bike hire places which are £12 a day. I know damn well I'm getting value for money. But there's nowt like cheek.

Please stay

Weird, today's unshakable song has been please don't throw it all away, I don't want to be the one who's going to have to beg you stay, please stay. And it kept trundling away in my head while I tried to allow my mind to sink deeply into my breathing. Keep imagining it dissipating, as though you're spraying liquid into the air and watching the mist of drops heavily sink and seemingly disappear. I sometimes wonder what triggers individual songs. It'll be a phrase I think and a song with that phrase in. Evidence of my mind's tendency to get stuck in loops. Not all loops are harmful though, it's not something to fear.

I am currently choosing between a mud experience and a Maori experience. I'm thinking the former as being a less rigid timetable driven thing with opportunities to meander and drink coffee and the possibility of electing if I want to interact or not with other people. France kind of prepared me for the solitude thing. Ooops. So much so that actually I don't really notice if I'm interacting with other folk or not. Although I do kind of miss some kind of drinking companion. I cannot quite manage to go into a bar on my own. Plus side is that it's cheaper this way too!

Planning the quickest ever scurry through a few chapters of Open Uni this week so I can send the books back to the UK and not lug the damned heavy things around. When will they make a kindle version I wonder … or an online log in. Bloody paper weighs a tonne. Thinking of sending home / abandoning a few things. The weight of my combined bags is doing my head in. Admittedly I am now carrying a couple of gas cannisters too which isn't helpful to overall weight. I left my karrimor sandals at the last place I stayed, having replaced them, function wise with a pair of shoes which have about a quadruple purpose, functioning as flat pedal cycling shoes, light weight walking shoes, running shoes and indeed beach sandals. Made me sad but the old sandals have given abundantly of their time. I'm hopeful the new shoes will also prove to be good bar going footwear. Hmm.

My face is carrying a touch of the sun. Spent 3 hours bimbling mostly in the shade yesterday wearing factor 30. Hmm. Now upped the ante to factor 50, and will renew frequently. And I have a hat. It's lilac.

Things that made me happy today:

The hostel has a dish washer!

Showers are resplendent in their powerful hot water goodness at 6:15am. Which being an old gurl seems to be my normal waking up time but it does mean I avoid the young folk queues.

The tourist info woman said “choice!” to me, possibly instead of a “thanks” or “nice one”. It made me smile. It made me feel I am properly in New Zealand, which of course I am.

I discovered that there is a tree here which genuinely grows flowers which look like ornate Christmas baubles.

I have cinnamon muffin splits for breakfast possibilities this week. I don't know what they are but they make my entire room smell like Christmas.

Twinings make a tea called “New Zealand Breakfast”. How cool is that?

Long incoming e-mails. Make me smile and perhaps dance a little. Within the confines of my room.

Time, just time. I have time all to myself. I can walk mindfully along the lakeside (mostly because my blistered feet still hurt). It's just unimaginably restful.

Mo & John from Sale. How we ended up on the same tour as each other living just a few miles down the road from each other in the UK I don't know. But as Terry Pratchett knows, a million to one coincidence happens one time in a hundred.

Fresh apricots. In December. Soft, slightly furry pieces of sharp goodness.

Loving Feeling

It's a funny thing the attempting to do a twice daily meditation, putting aside thinking and feeling and just being. Every time I gently pat the thoughts and feelings away and begin to concentrate on the breath coming in and going out I become aware of the background music in my head. It's this that is harder to shift. When I casually say there's always a song in my head, I hadn't actually appreciated it really is always. Yesterday was Amazing Grace. Today was You've lost that loving feeling. And I have no idea what it means. What does it mean? I suspect my sub conscious is fairly wise and insightful.

It's weird, because if I were Christian, I'd be offering up prayerful thanks to the appropriate deity right now for the things I have in my life. I really do feel a gnawing urge to humbly offer up gratitude and thanks to someone right now.

Today I'm thankful for all kinds of things.

I'm full of a sense of wonder about how sometimes things just fall into place. Spurred by text messages today from the friend who has my camper van. Once a colleague, now someone who is becoming a stronger friend almost daily. I am someone hungry for contact, and he is filling that void. The sense of wonder is three fold. I have two vehicles, a mini and a camper van and it makes me smile to realise how each of them is in use right now and how life's coincidences have made it so. The mini is with a friend whose mum wrote off one of the family fleet of vehicles only a couple of weeks before the van arrived. The van is with a friend who changed jobs, with his company car from the earlier job being returned two days before I flew to New Zealand. The third sense of wonder is my friend who e-mailed me a couple of weeks ago asking if I was anywhere near Nelson on 3^rd Jan. To which I was able to send her a copy of my hostel booking in Nelson on 3^rd Jan. I really do want to thank someone for these things in my life.

I have contentedly declared travel days just that, travel days. There's a searching, restless, desperate to make the most of her time woman within me that feels such days are a little “wasted” if I don't do anything. Except, I seem to be able to put her behind me. I think the genuine Alison isn't really that bothered, and can release some of the exacting standards she creates for herself. So, a change of mindset has already taken place, and travel days are in fact a thing of joy (oh, there I go with the joy word again). It is ludicrous with the size of pack I'm carrying to expect to be able to sightsee with that damn thing on my back. It would not really be that much fun. The rational being in me has accepted there isn't a good time of day to travel. There's significant bag carrying at one time or another so if the journey time is long, embrace the softness of the day, lie in the sun, read, keep that brain from getting into loops and indulge in coffee and savoury muffins.

Savoury muffins by the way, never came across these before. Not sure I want to return to triple chocolate ever again when I can get cheese, bacon and onion.

And in the park today, quietly reading, I chanced to look up and realise I was surrounded by tiny birds. Sparrows and others all around me, pecking through the clover. I stopped reading and just watched the birds and was grateful that I was there, present.

I met a welsh youth today, his third Christmas in the southern hemisphere. He was bar tending, and his accent was more Aussie than Wales. Sweet lad, no more than a child really, curly sun kissed hair, wiry surfer looks.

Christmas muffin. Yes, I have purchased a special something for my Christmas celebrations. It is tied up with shiny green and red ribbons and until I eat it, is the sole Christmas decoration of my room.

My room. I had booked into this hostel (I cannot believe how cheap 6 nights here are) at a cheapskate rate, into a mixed dorm for 4. I was happy with that decision. After all, you can't enter into these things and be too fussy about where you lay your head for the night. But when I arrived, Frank on reception advised me that although they had initially allocated me a top bunk in a 4 person dorm with two boys, his boss had moved me. So here I am, lady muck in her single room. It's about 6 foot by 4 foot and goddammed perfect.

Rotorua. Beautiful town. I can see hills at the ends of the streets. Bright sunshine and Christmas tree in the centre. I could live here. I truly could.

Love and peace.