Days 4 & 5: New Plymouth

Leaving Auckland was an adventure in itself. I spent too long using the uncluttered, early-morning WiFi at the hostel to upload the pictures for my blog post and was almost late for my bus. I didn't even eat a proper breakfast because I had about $4 in coins in my pocket and no cooked food. I stopped at the little Asian supermarket near the hostel and bought some weird-looking snacks that actually lasted me a good two and a half days. My diet for the first week was essentially Ramen, cafés, mac'n'cheese, more Ramen, random snacks, and the occasional piece of fruit.

Also, on a side note, I'm 100% convinced that at least 93% of NZ place and road names end with a vowel. It's kind of unbelievable.
Matamata, Paekakariki, Kapiti, Rotorua, Tongariro, Taranaki, Waiheke, Hahei, Taupo, Te Takere--this is just off the top of my head.

I was planning to get so much writing done on the bus from Auckland to New Plymouth, but the landscapes were so breathtaking that I didn't take my eyes off the window for more than a short nap and a couple pages of reading. On a five hour ride. Yeah.

Partway through, we stopped for lunch (not breakfast, sadly) at Tiffany's and I had my first steak and mushroom pie. It was delicious, not too expensive, and very filling. There was an elderly couple in front of me in the rather long line, and they turned around and said, "Are you traveling on the bus?" I said that I was. "Oh, you go in front of us, then. We're traveling by car." It was so kind and unexpected. Later, I saw them sitting having tea, and they just looked so sweet and picturesque. I liked them.

Another side note: especially in the hostels, but even in the cities and towns, people don't really seem to care what you look like. Less make-up, fewer high heels, more messy hair...just a significantly more natural lifestyle. These are my people.

Mt. Taranaki

New Plymouth was wonderful. It has Mount Taranaki to the South and the Tasman Sea to the North, and you can often see both at the same time on a clear day. The YHA backpacker, the Sunflower Lodge, was quite a walk from the iSITE, but worth it. Just the view out the back is mind-blowing--overlooking a rainforest valley, and then across the valley are green hills with farmland. Plus, you can't beat sub-$30 nights. Seriously. Hostels are your best friends.

Everyone pretty much kept to themselves or their group in the Auckland hostel, so the first night in NP, I mostly listened to other people bond, besides chatting with Rachel, the owner, while we made our dinners. She introduced me to NZ feijoas and I have never looked back.

The second night, however, I took my dinner and asked if I could join the two Canadians who I'd heard talking a lot, even though they'd just met the day before. They were Ellen, from Nova Scotia, and Jean-François (or JF), from Quebec.

They very happily allowed me to sit with them, and I asked if they were both Canadian. They said yes, and that all the hockey talk gave it away. We talked for probably several hours, long after we'd all finished eating, and I gained a lot of knowledge from the stories they told. They were both wrapping up their two (or more) months in NZ, while I was just beginning. Ellen, as much as she raved about places that I wouldn't get to go or that even she hadn't planned to go, told me multiple times throughout the evening that a lot of backpackers see it all as a competition over who has been to the most envious places. She said many will check off all the big sights, but only spend a night in each place and therefore never get to know any of them. She said everyone will ask me if I've done or will do the Tongariro Crossing/Mt. Doom, which lots of them come to NZ exclusively to hike. But she said, ultimately, "It's your trip, not theirs." Basically, go where you want, stay as long or short as you feel like, and don't worry about what everyone else says you must see.

But I've gotten slightly ahead of myself.

Sunrise behind the lodge

On my first morning in NP, I found out that all the big stores and supermarkets were closed till noon because it was ANZAC Day (in memory of the NZ and AU soldiers who went to fight in WWI). Having no food to eat, I borrowed a bike and popped up the road to a little dairy, where I bought half a dozen eggs, some cheese, a loaf of bread, and some "yoghurt". 

A word to the wise: when riding an unfamiliar bike, check the brakes before you venture down a very steep hill carrying eggs. The absence of broken shells/asphalt-eating was a small miracle.

I finally made myself food that didn't consist mainly of noodles, and I am not lying in telling you that it made my entire week when I found a jar of blueberry jam in the pantry which hadn't been labeled. Fair game, and I milked it for all it was worth. 

Oh, and the tea was free there, too. I drank so much tea.

Ellen was playing piano and singing in a soft, indie rocker voice when I came back out from brushing my teeth. I harmonized with her on "Riptide". She asked if I play, and I said I do a little bit, but was just enjoying listening to her.

Quick note on Ellen. Her speaking voice sounds exactly like Jennifer Lawrence. I am not exaggerating. Same inflections, same very slight rasp, even the same way of phrasing things and lack of a filter. AND the exact same accent, which makes absolutely no sense seeing as Ellen's from Nova Scotia and J-Law hails from Louisville, Kentucky. But yeah, it was basically like I was in the room with J-Law all the time. I'm just gonna start telling people that I met Jennifer Lawrence in a backpacker in New Zealand. Yep. That's what happened.

After probably an hour of trying desperately to figure out a way to get to the Goblin Forest Track without biking 50km, I decided it wasn't meant to be this time. It was simply farther away than I had realized. This was probably the roughest day for me so far, because the Goblin Forest held the highest spot on my list of places I wanted to spend time in (besides the obvious Hobbiton). It took a couple of days for me to reach a point of having peace about it.

Excerpt from my travel diary, 10:12 AM on the twenty-sixth of April, 2015:

"The most important thing I've learned so far: you can only plan so much. You HAVE to be able to go with the flow. Because sometimes your plans don't work out, and you can't let it get you down. It just means God has a different adventure in store.

I'm learning to be more reliant on Him, and a particular line of dialogue from The Fellowship of the Ring keeps going through my head: "Trust me, as you once did. Let it go." It's when Gandalf is lovingly urging Bilbo to give up the Ring, something very important to him which he is clinging to blindly, unaware of the bigger picture. The thought of those words encouraged me, and brought me back."

As it turns out, that different adventure in store was the famous New Plymouth Coastal Walkway. Seven miles of pathway right next to the sea, open to walkers, runners, and non-motorized wheels of any sort.

A lookout point on the Walkway where I spent some time writing and rock-hopping

So that was how I spent my full day in New Plymouth: on the coast. And I can't possibly oversell it. Every inch was beautiful, and no mile the same as the one before it. That's the thing about New Zealand coasts--none of them are the same. In the coastline of only one town, it went from high cliffs, to thick trees leading to scattered rocks, to a rocky fishing pier, to black sand, to a quiet river inlet, and finally to rolling farmland.

The black sand of the western coasts of New Zealand

There were lots of nice little places to stop off and rest along the path

Overlooking the river as it meets the sea

Look how tiny the people are

At the end of the line

(I'd like to point out that no editing was done on any of these photos. NZ is just that beautiful.)

That night, as people were starting to congregate in the kitchen and new backpackers were arriving, I sat down at the keyboard and played for a while. I wasn't sure anyone really noticed, but later on, as Ellen, JF and I were talking and a Frenchman was just leaving the keys, JF said I should play because I was really good. Ellen replied, "Yeah, I asked if she played yesterday and she was like, 'A little bit.'" I laughed and said, "I don't like to make a big deal out of it."

But I did play again, after I'd washed my dishes. I had just finished playing "People Help the People" and "Home" when I was genuinely startled by applause. All the French people at the tables, and even the others in the lounge, were looking my way, smiling, and clapping.

A bit later, the Frenchman was playing again, truly beautifully, and I came closer to listen and watch his hands. He stopped and asked if I wanted to play again, to which I responded that I liked listening to him and just wanted to see his hands. He finished the song, then rose and said it was my turn again.
"I don't know what else to play."
"What is in your heart?"

So I improvised. It was remarkably fun and freeing. When I finished, I went to collect my things from the lounge, saying something about getting my junk out of their way. A lady with a thick accent responded, smiling: "You can leave it here and keep playing."

When Ellen and I were turning in, she wanted to show me a picture or two and ended up showing me a lot of the places she'd been so that I could sort of experience them through her eyes--and add them to my list for next time. We also found out that we were heading in the same direction on the bus in the morning, and she let me in on the fact that you can tell the bus to pick you up at the All-Boys School instead of the iSITE. So I changed my ticket and only had to drag my suitcase half a mile instead of about two. Cannot tell you how happy that made me.

I'm still struck by how different the whole atmosphere in the Sunflower Lodge was from Auckland International. It felt like fellow travelers became family in that one evening.

So that was New Plymouth, and the people I met there. I miss it already.