The blog that went rogue

Below is the post I wrote the other day, I think my second day in Sydney. I wanted to talk about two issues and they kept muddling together and I felt like this emotional ramble (because that's sort of what it is) lacks the economical use of words that I usually make my priority. I don't want my message to get lost in a wall of text, usually I only ever say as much as I believe is needed. 

Well, don't say I didn't warn you...

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Life isn't simple. We all know it can be hard, but it can also be complicated and there's not always a simple answer when we try to work things out or make decisions. Four years ago I went across the world and I fell in love, I know it was love, because the moment I left Wellington that first time, I knew I had to go back, so I abandoned my other travel plans, lost about £200 on accomodation and went back to Wellington. That's a little thing, a very little thing. To me it's a big thing, it's red lights big, it's alarm bells big. I don't just change plans, I don't deviate, I'm brittle with focus, I don't adapt, there is only ever one way. But, love has a funny way of inciting change, forcing us to choose another path when we find something we can't live without. 

If I tried to tell you the horrors that I contain in my mind, every day, you might not be surprised, I suspect a lot of people suffer far more than they let on to others, but if I were to tell you out loud the feelings I go through and the thoughts I have, they might seem alarming. When people know how much I stuggle to travel, how distressing every single day can be, they always seem to come back to the same, near incomprehensible, questions: Why? How? 

How is simple, I've said it before and I'll say it again, when you're scared all the time anyway, you might as well do something worth doing. (That sounds more like the why, but it's not) Put simply, how I manage is the same way I manage every day, and maybe that's a post for another time, but when you go through it all the time, you learn skills, sometimes they work, sometimes they don't, but you use them and that's how. 

But why? That's not so simple to explain. I suffer most days, I have abracelet that   reads "I am half agony, half hope", it is a quote from persuasion, I'd actually say it's more 70/30 myself. My whole life is one tumultuous internal struggle, and perhaps agony is the word that best describes the feelings. Fear battles excitement, isolation pushes against the need for space, bordom wrestles with a desire for inner calm. I have desperate feelings of loss and grief with no cause, I feel alone, I feel sad, I feel ashamed. 

With that in mind I feel I have two options, resignation; I could just give up, I could live with things as they are, or I could try to look for answers, try to change, learn, grow, discover, solve. 

So when I travel, it's really because all that fear and angst, all those tenuous moments and difficulties are better than the alternative, which is just to live with the agony every day for the rest of my life, and that's not something I can explain easily. 

I miss wellington, I miss it desperately, I feel such loss at leaving and I wonder why ever I thought I should travel anywhere else, why I didn't stay put there. On one hand I know, but on the other I still can't make sense of why I left. I love wellington, it is honestly my favourite place in the world, I have been four times now and I already wish to go back there. When I have spoken to people here, the same question has come up time and time again; why haven't you moved here? 

I honestly don't know, that complexity I was talking about, this is it, I can't work out why I keep visiting but I haven't moved, up until now I didn't even realise that wasn't 'normal', and I keep asking myself but I don't know. I don't care if it's 'normal' but if has brought up some questions. It's something I'm going to have to reflect on, I guess I don't know much about love. 

What happens next

I am in my hostel in Auckland about to try to go to sleep, I am reunited with my kindle (the girl at the desk acted very strangely when I dropped in to get it and when I switched it on someone had been playing with it)! This new hostel has a nice atmosphere, my dorm has other antisocial girls not talking, so right up my alley. When I walked in one girl was sitting on her bed facing the wall so I felt right at home. The last hostel had curtains on all the beds but here there is no such luxury, so I asked for an extra blanket and made my own! (I nabbed a bottom bunk you see.) The bunks don't have their own lamps or charging ports either which is a little odd. 

It is 8.30pm but I am going to try to get some sleep now as I have to get up and disturb everyone at 3.30am so I can leave for the airport and catch my flight to Sydney, yay me, good planning! 

The last two days

I have had the most amazing two days in Paihia, it is a bit of a tourist hotspot but it's far less touristy that Rotorua and my hostel has been right in the heart of the town, rather than in the area with all the hostels. Although it is a beach town, it has far more to it than that and since I booked it with no plans whatsoever, I can't believe how much there is to do. 

It has been so great in fact, that I have struggled to tell you about what I have been up to, so I've decided just to list it, and I will happily talk your ear off about it if you ask me about it in person. 

On Thursday I got up and headed straight to the great sights office, I had booked an excursion but there were only two of us, we took a small bus across the country stopping at the Wairere boulders, a place of incredible natural beauty where a small waterfall trickles down over a mountain of boulders, each the size of a room. Next we continued west through Northland, the poorest region on New Zealand, it was amazing to see places so off the beaten track, where tourists rarely venture. 

Eventually we arrived at our destination, the Hokianga, an area made up of little west coast towns, we picked up our Māori guide and she took us to visit the Waipoua forest and Tane Mahuta, the god of the forest and the biggest Kauri tree in the world. He was incredible and my photos down do him justice, his magnificence made me cry. Our guide chanted and sang in Māori, told us about the life cycle of the kauri, the Māori creation story and the conservation work the the Māori people and New Zealand as a whole are doing to help preserve these very endangered trees. 

We drove back and had an amazing view of the sand hill across the bay from Opononi. On the way back to Paihia we stopped at Kawakawa to visit an incredible public bathroom by an architect who's name escapes me, it was worth seeing despite not being on the official tour itinerary! 

It was St Patricks day and whilst I did push myself to go out to the waterfront after dark, I only stayed a few minutes to see the sea. 

On friday it was hard to leave my room but I did get out and walked to the Waitangi treaty grounds. For anyone who doesn't know, this is the spot where over 170 years ago, the Māori cheifs signed a treaty with the Pākehā (european settlers) which promised them protection by the british monarchy and all the rights of british citizens while retaining the rights to their own lands and possessions. While both sides (mostly british) have at times failed to honour the treaty, it was the founding document on which modern New Zealand was built and it's people united. I am so very glad I got to see it. It also houses the biggest Waka taua (warrior canoe) ever built, James Busby's house, now known as the treaty house and a beautiful Marae (Māori carved meeting house) representing tribes across the country. I attended a Māori cultural performance which was a very respectful display of welcome and challenge, dance, song and skill with weaponry. I had been avoiding these performaces as while I longed to see a display of traditional Māori arts, I was very fearful of falling into the tourist trap and attending a performance that would make a mockery of modern Māori life, but this was beautiful, highly respectful and informative, much like an exhibition in a museum. 

After I had spent a good few hours on the grounds, in the marae, the museum and visior centre, I decided to take a little walk to Haruru falls, a walk I didn't realise was 5km one way. I walked it both ways and with the walk from Paihia to Waitangi on top, I walked well over 15km yesterday. I came back positively exhaused. My walk took me through forest, along the Waitangi river and, most best of al, through the mangroves on a wooden boardwalk. I'm not posting photos since I want to show my mum those when I return home, in person. 

I was exhaused last night. Today I have packed my bags, ready to travel back to Auckland and then go to the airport at 4am and fly to Sydney, so the next time you hear from me I will be in Australia and the last stop of my journey. I am sitting in Russell writing this as I decided I had a few hours to spare and should take the ferry over and make the most of my time here before I leave. 

I am frightfully excited about being reunited with my kindle this evening, it's the silver lining of passing back through Auckland.  

Tane Mahuta, truly magnificent but impossible to tell how huge he is in the photo. 

The view across the bay from Opononi

Amazing public toilets

Inside the marae at the treaty grounds

I walked up from Paihia and then down the yellow path and back 

From Rotorua to Paihia

I couldn't make it straight from one to the other, at least not the way I'd planned it  so I had to make an overnight stop in Auckland, city of dreams (mild sarcasm). Don't get me wrong, it's not hellish, but I said after last time I wouldn't go back and my lack of imaginative planning made it a necessity. So I'd got a bunk in a girls only dorm in a reputable hostel but the closer I got to Auckland the more anxious I got until I was practiacally at fever pitch. I made it though, however exhausted, to Auckland and to the hostel. I'll be honest, I hate hostels, I hate budget rooms, I hate sharing, I hate questionable cleaning, I'd go as far as to say I hate other humans at this point. (Who me? Prickly? Never!) Hostels, make me feel intensely uncomfortable so I have to credit myself with the fact I coped through arriving and checking into my room, being met by 3 girls who didn't  greet me when I walked in (is that normal, being blanked?) and having to pick my way through the debree of other people's massive unpacked bags all over the floor to find a space for my tiny rucksack. Yeah, I'm sure it doesn't sound a big deal, but to me it was, please just trust me on that. The whole thing was a massive challenge there is no way I would ever have had the ability to handle at any other time in my life, so a mark of personal growth. I'll keep this quick though. I got up early and left by small bus full of backpackers (another challenge) the next morning and was halfway to Paihia with my 'team' before I realised I'd left a piece of me behind in that dreadful room, I'd left my kindle. It would have been worse if it had been my phone (camera!!) or passport (security) or card (hmmm... Welfare?) but it was still a minor catastrophy. Due to my inclination to stick to the same things, I had booked a room (a whole ensuite room) in the same hostel in Paihia, Haka Lodge (which as hostels go, I have to say are pretty good) so when I arrived they phoned through to Auckland and in a short time secured the safety of my beloved library until I pass back that way and can pick it up. 

Paihia made good first impressions and I broke tradition by actually doing something on my arrivel day, taking the ferry across to small colonial town (and ex capital of NZ) Russell. I had a gingernut ice cream and marveled at the beauty of the sea. I came back mid afternoom after I found myself falling asleep standing (not an exageration) and was in my jammies by 7pm ready to read in bed... Oh... Um.... Yeah.... Well, not that then. How about play videogames? Yeah, that'll do. 

So, that was yesterday in a nutshell, lets see if I can write about today. 

Russell waterfront

More picturesque beach 

Today in Rotorua

Today I got out and walked a long way. I walked through native New Zealand woodland, through californian redwoods through geothermal areas where the ground steamed, along the river, through the suburbs, through the city.

I walked for 3 and a half hours. 

At one point I found myself walking down mountain biking tracks and I had to double back before anyone spotted me (or ran into me for that matter). 

I walked a path alongside the river that was so sulphurous I though I would be sick, I don't seem to do well with sulphur. The streams I crossed bubbled and steam poured from cracks in the ground. 

I marked my path on a map, I went to the post office and bought some groceries for the road ahead, I took a bus home. I'm fairly satisfied. 

That black line, that's me walking. 

Leaving Rotorua

I'm just leaving Rotorua, I'm very glad. It's an excellent place, I'd really recommend it to others, but I don't like it myself and I doubt I'd go back just for fun. 

I've never been a fan of cities that look a little bit tired, I like cities with tall, grand buildings, works of architecture and green spaces, urban development that leads to a city of art. This city is low lying, the buildings are old but lack charm and beautiful architecture to me, they are mostly utilitarian or outdated. I'm not putting the place down, it seems like a hugely sentimental place, very residential but for it's HUGE tourism industry, there are streets and streets of motel style lodges, hotels, backpackers hostels, like their own little villages. The suburbs are nice enough and what it lacks in urban charm it definitely makes up for in natural beauty and individuality. There are many places to enjoy the geothermal wonders, from walks to hot pools and spas, and the sulphur is unescapable. It really is a unique place, it's just not for me, and I'm really glad about that because imagine how fed up I'd be if I'd loved it and only had two days before having to leave. Better yet, I stayed two nights and two days rather resigned to the fact I didn't like it and I managed to sit with those feelings, accept the reality of what is and remember that I would be moving on soon (a terrifying thought in itself). I know when I visited new zealand the first time and arrived in Christchurch I felt exactly the same and don't get me wrong I have been tempted to book whatever I could get my hands on in Wellington and run off there, abandoning the rest of my trip for folly. Yet where the difference lies is that three years ago I actually did do that, abandoned my plans and ran back to Wellington but this time I didn't, not for lack of wanting, but if I can persevere, I may learn from this whole escapade and you never know, I might even enjoy it too. 

Over the next few days things will be a bit uncertain, I'll try to keep this up to date but I'm not likely to stick to a daily schedule (as if I ever do...). 

Liberation

So Wellington is behind me now and I had a realisation when I woke up this morning in Rotorua not feeling my best, now I'm free to feel miserable! It's amazing how liberating it feels knowing I don't have to have a good time anymore! Now don't get me wrong, out of the two options, I'd prefer to enjoy myself, but when I was in Wellington it was imperative that I have an amazing time and learn and grow etc, etc, but now I just have to cope, to survive, to make the best of things because any good experience is a bonus now, not a prerequisite. I have not visited these places before, or I have, and I've not been a huge fan, so I guess now I just try my best and get on with this travel malarky in the hopes that I have a fun, that I learn, that I embrace it, but if I don't, I always had Wellington. 

Ps. Too anxious to go out, the rain has made the sulphur sulphurous and given me a headache, so I have drank tea, played video games, read and accepted it. Maybe I'll get out later, maybe I won't, maybe I'll miss out because I didn't try hard enough, I'll never know what could have been if I was a different person. 

Here's a photo of Lake Taupo, which  seems like an ocean to me. 

Update: I took advantage of having the house to myself and took a shower, washed and dried hair etc, I got out at 3.25, walked to the redwoods but there were too many tourists and I was too tired to walk into town. I was okay with this, until I got home and the other guest accused me of having been "on mobile all day" at which I crumbled and spent about an hour sobbing, you win some, you lose some but under no circumstances should I have to explain or justify what I do to strangers, especially when I had actually used my phone very little. I am now regretting telling him "No I wasn't, I've been out." and wishing I'd told him to "F*ck right off and mind his own." but like I said earlier, I'll never know what could have been if I was a different person. 

Scorching bay

Since I'm sitting on a bus for 6 hours, I thought maybe I'd have a go at telling you about Wednesday and my visit to Scorching bay. This was the morning I had been wallowing in self pity, desperate loneliness and apathy. The morning I was so frantic about missing out on wellington, that I couldn't make up my mind where to start, so I just sat and waited, trying to process all the possible options I had and their outcomes. This was the morning I spoke to Rhyannon and she pressed my reset button and suddenly I knew where I needed to go, that I needed to go to Scorching bay. 

I took the bus to Miramar with the intention of walking across to the bay, only Wellington is made up of long hill ridges, like fingers of green spread between suburbs and I hadn't known that one of these hills ran along between Miramar and the coast. I do now. 

Google maps has given me an incredible resource, one quick glance and I can find my way anywhere, think I'm lost and the GPS will let me know if I took a wrong turning somewhere, but what it wasn't showing me was the topography of the land, and I'm really glad of that, because when I walked towards the outer point of the Miramar peninsular with the plan to take a right and make my way two streets across to where the coastline waited, I was met with an unexpected challenge and a pretty big hill to climb. 

I like hills, they are hard to climb, sometimes a great struggle but when you reach the top, the view and sense of satisfaction you feel are a worthy reward for perseverance and determination and you walk away with greater strength. I'm pretty sure that never happens when you take shortcuts, when you rush past or always follow the easiest path. They represent so clearly the choices we face in everday life when deciding which path to choose, who wouldn't pick a hill? 

This path was a pedestrian only footpath meandering to the top, trees pressing in from the sides, sheltering above. This path might be the most beautiful path I have ever walked if only for the natural beauty and the ever present voice in my head reminding me what I would have missed had I just stayed in my room, had I not made a decision. 

It was hot, I was aware that having convinced myself it was a cold day, I was somewhat overdressed. The cicadas were deafening, a beautiful reminder of how far I'd really come, and once or twice I heard a tui singing somewhere nearby. I reached the top of the hill alive, and not quite roasted, but exhausted and feeling more alive than I had for quite some time. I marvelled at the view, I felt as if no one would believe me when I told them this vast, blue beauty existed, I wanted desperately to bring it back with me. I followed vaguely held instructions in my head, walking along the top of the hil, parallel to the sea, before reaching another pedestrian footpath and the final steps down to Scorching bay. There was a fruit tree, I do not know what kind, I could not recognise the little fruits that littered the path but the sun had heated them making the air fragrant. As I made my way back and forth down the hillside, scorching bay came into view and I was enraptured. I had lunch at the cafe by the beach, famed for being the cafe of choice for the cast shooting lord of the rings, and laid by the beach just long enough to burn my forearms. Then I walked along the coast, becoming ever more delighted by the views before finally setting back over the hill by a different path and back to darlington road, where the buses stop. It was the best day of my trip although not the happiest, intensely bittersweet, overshadowed by a wistful feeling of having to leave something behind and experiencing perfection alone. 

A piece of the view

First glimse of scorching bay

Looking back from the coastal path

An actual photo of me

Along Karaka bay road

Speaks for itself.

Leaving Wellington

Today I set off from Wellington and I can't help but wonder why I thought one week would be enough. I guess I didn't want to leave my life behind for too long and I thought it was important to visit other places too. Later I'll arrive in Rotorua, which is north of Wellington and famed for it's geothermal activity, thrill seeking, Māori village and redwood forest. I will stay there for two nights, if anything, now the challenge begins. 

The importance of loneliness

I feel a bit embarassed now as I recall the first few days of the week and how I believed the only thing missing from my experiences was company. I think whenever I travel, I have some difficult days and they are the ones I learn the most from, I have learnt something that I had been beginning to understand about myself but had forgotten, something that defines all my experiences and should have been obvious. 

I'm not a people person. 

I don't like people. 

Of course, I like certain people, but they are not 'people', people refers to the mass of human beings that surrounds us and enjoying the conpany of select persons who I have a bond with is not enough to make me like 'people'. 

As time goes on, I discover more and more how my life is governed by introversion, by the errosion of my boundaries when louder humans who see nothing wrong with trampling over my wants and needs, who take my time, my emotional resources and my energy. Too long have people been selective about the meaning of the word 'no', too long have they pushed and edged around it, decided it does not apply to them, that their feelings outweigh my own and that they can take what they want with minimal responsibility. 

Well no more. I will not roar it, I will say it quietly and gently, I will not become someone I am not in order to protect my boundaries, I will say it as me and I will say it with no appology as I recieve none when people fail to listen to that one simple word. 

I cannot be drained and burnt out by people who are not like me, who take more than I can give, and most importantly, I will defend myself. 

Too long have I taken a stance that it is is easier to repair the damage it does than to protect and defend myself, that it is worth compromising my own feelings to spare someone else the awkwardness of being stood up to when the same thought is not spared for me. 

This trip I have been okay, safe, the boundaries pushed were entirely benign but the emotional drain and the turmoil caused by people choosing to overlook my limits has been too great, and it should not make a difference the context when maintaining boundaries. 

I really need loneliness, I will appreciate it better now. It is loneliness but it is also freedom, it is revival, it is the calm that spreads on the surface of a lake. I will not deny that is brings about a saddness in me, but I can see that it is by far the lesser of two evils and in time, when I have people around me once again, I will be glad to have spent that time alone and my achievements will be all the greater for it. 

Overcoming

So yesterday after my blog post, I started to plan in my mind what I would do, I started to try to compute all options I had for things to do, cross reference them by number of days here and again by weather, tried to work out which things were close enough to do in one day and which things would take a day in themselves, which were most worthwhile, which cost more, which things would lead to other possible opportunities, which... My brain had crashed. Like a computer given factors that could not be determined and asked to run an impossible algorithm based on uncertaintly and vague, ever changing human emotion. 

A little while later Rhyannon talked to me, told me to run through what the options were, she said:

"It's not a waste of time because you're learning more and more about yourself and what's the worst thing that can happen, you miss a few things and have the rest of your life to go back and see them again"

So simple, how did she make it so simple? 

I knew then what my priority was, but felt reassured that New Zealand wasn't going anywhere, assuaging a constant gnawing fear that I hardly knew was there. The reality is, I do have to choose, not only to have a great fun holiday (cue sarcasm) but much more importantly, because this is my chance to learn lessons, and those lessons will change the year ahead. Two years ago, I learnt some lessons that put me in a place where I was able to have a relationship with another human being, I have always, always attributed my trip to New Zealand as the overiding factor that made it possible, and yes, it did, but realistically, I didn't stop learning once I was home, it just gave me something to run with. 

So yesterday my brain stopped trying to compute uncertainty and just gave me an answer, my priority was Scorching bay. 

This little place had captured my heart 3 years earlier and I had been vowing to make it back ever since, only it's not simple, a bus ride won't get you there unless you're going in the evening, and then there's no way to get back. My hosts had offered to take me on Saturday but I already had ideas for Saturday and quite honestly, after 3 years it was something I wanted to do by myself. 

I looked at the bus to Miramar, the peninsular that scorching bay sits on, if I took the bus there, walked to Scorching bay, had lunch, and took the same bus back, I could stop in Kilbirnie on the way home, walk up the hill to Newtown to take photos, back down, buy groceries and take the bus home, it seemed a flawless plan while the weather was still pleasent enough and I was sure I could fit all that into one afternoon, I already had plans for the evening and as I was sitting, fretting, it had already reached midday. Furthermore, if I went today, I could politely tell my hosts I had grasped the opportunity to go while the weather was good and free up my Saturday, and it had been that simple.

Rhyannon Jordan, I love you. 

I marched myself out of the appartment and called the lift, then I almost screamed. The lift was dressed up as a witch, the doors had opened and there it was, wearing a long black cape. I amost ran back inside. I had to walk away and ready myself before I called the lift again. For reasons I later learned, the lift had been kitted out with weird black curtains covering the walls, it was eerie (and no doubt totally benign to normal folk). 

I marched myself onto a bus to Miramar and asked the driver to let me know when we got there, the bus drivers so far have been very friendly and understanding and for that I am eternally grateful.

In the end I went to Scorching bay, I had lunch, I walked along the coast and back to the bus, I bought groceries but did not climb the hill to Newtown. I did a lot, so much so, that it'll need it's own blog post. 

I found the best place on earth. 

Just a quick update. (May contain self pity)

Okay, so I haven't written because I've been miserable, and that doesn't make for good writing or for good reading, but I wanted to keep people in the loop. I'm not strugging with massive demons, I'm just really bloody lonely and there are only so many shop assisants I can talk at before word gets out and they start avoiding me. I did however, have a very good day on Monday, after the cinema I went in search of tea shops and discovered T2, which is a kind of Davidstea from Australia, we have them in britain too, I've just never been into one. That are very impressive, I think the adrenalin of finding so much tea and the actual caffine boost of trying so much tea made me a bit overwhelmed. That night I went to the circus, (La Verità, beautiful, contemporary circus) and it wasn't bad, though a little busy for my taste, too much going on at once. However,I made   friends with the woman sat beside me who was very interesting, I may see her again as she offered me a lift to Otari-Wiltons bush this evening for a light show, but I don't know yet. Then Tuesday (yesterday) I met a friend for lunch, the first host I had in Wellington (2013) who I feel lucky to have stayed in contact with. Went into various shops, just trapsed, felt rather deflated despite managing to actually get out of the house, went to the museum but couldn't focus, came back, had a bit to eat then headed out to the 'dingle' (well, session on at the welsh bar), as I walked out of the apartment door I did a U-turn and walked straight back in, I had to give myself a fair pep talk before I felt confident enough to venture out and go to the session, only I didn't enjoy it, I was on the outside, in a bar full of people with not a single person to talk to or instrument to play, I wrote a bit, drew a bit, drank my ginger beer, reflected on how, like two years ago at the outdoor cinema, it was okay to concede defeat when you realised that you didn't want to do something because you just didn't like it. That as long as you don't let fear hold you back, once you've conquered that fear, it's fine to say "tits to this, I'm out of here suckers" or words to that effect. Not everything is about forcing yourself to do things you don't want to do, not everything is about inner demons, sometimes you're just cold or lonely or bored and you decide to leave. Though I'd missed my chance to sneak off to the cinema so I stayed a while for the hell of it. I walked back along courtney place, the centre of Wellington's night life and bar culture (and very close to where I'm staying) and watched all the happy people with other happy people so I walked past my apartment and out to the waterfront where I stared out into the vast, dark, sea and the distant lights of the city like some walking cliche of angst. Ughh, yeah, that's me, looking out at those cold lonely waves, black and turbulent, it's was like looking to a mirror, like looking into the depths of my soul... Ah f*ck off internal dialogue.  But I still haven't shaken that feeling off, now, on Wednesday morning I'm feeling sorry for myself, and then I'm like 'Hey you're in the best place on earth' and then I'm feeling dismal at my inability to appreciate my surroundings, and I'm an awful person then, and my guilt reaches up and knocks me over the head and I should be donating my body to starving orphans or something. Anyway, so, my thoughts are not concise and neat, I don't think I'm doing a great job conveying my feelings and to add to that it's 11.40 now and I still haven't got out, oh joy, more self imposed restrictions, more shame. I didn't keep to the plan mum, I screwed up. 

So this is why sometimes I stop writing, and I need to stop sometimes because my narrative has to be good, even at the depths of dispair, I can write about how awful I feel but this, this is a far poorer narrative, it's hardly even a thread of sense, it's a ramble, and I don't want to ramble, so I hope you'll forgive me for my lack of updates, normal service will resume when I am either euphoric or full of pain, because this, this watery self pity isn't woth either of our time.

T2

Poor man's dingle

Mahana

So I went to the cinema, as I said, and now I feel better, actually a bit giddy but that's beside the point. 

I went to see a film called Mahana which I think is going to be released under the alternative title 'The Patriarch' elsewhere. I literally have no words to convey the depths of emotion I felt this film touches. I have rarely felt so desperately pulled in by a film, one scene in particular was so incredibley emotion wrenching, I honestly think it's creation is paramount to genius. I wish I had someone to discuss it with, I wish I had dragged someone else along to the cinema, I wish I had someone to drag. I don't like emotional films believe it or not, I don't need more emotion. Nor do I like films set in the past, the past always seems to be filled with such cruelty and injustice, I can hardly bear to watch. This film was both of these things and yet so subtle and beautiful that I am truely glad I put these concerns aside. It is a deeply cultural film set against the backdrop of Maori family life, I feel privileged to have had the chance to watch it. 

http://m.imdb.com/title/tt4424228/

 

Oh what now?

It's 11.20am, I still haven't got out of the house, I have been up since before 6am but I can't get out. It's funny how inexplicable anxiety is, how do I put into words something I really can't begin to understand myself? All I know is yesterday I could go out, though I felt anxious, today I feel like my chest is full of rocks and I can't leave the appartment. The knowledge that should spur me on, that I have so little time here and so much to do, does little to quiet this anxiety, it raises it to a cacophony of troubles, and it feels like it's bearing down on me. I know this happens, I know this always happens but it feels a blow. I know I'll get out in the end, but the knowledge that Wellington is just passing me by outside and my brief time here is being wasted makes me want to cry. I feel like a machine that cannot process the command to leave, it does not compute, my being able to go outside and get on with doing things, I feel like I have frozen, my system in lockdown. I feel hard done by quite honestly, I feel like life has dealt me a card I don't want, I feel like I'm between a rock and a hard place, and the focus is always on what I CAN do, and what I SHOULD do, and rarely on what I want to do... what DO I want to do? I think more than anything I want life to be more flexible; Can't go out today? It's okay, Wellington's not going anywhere! Want do do 100 things at 2am? That's fine, we'll just stick more hours in the day for you! Not in the right frame of mind to be an adult at the moment? That's alright, the world needs more kids! What on earth do I do with this feeling? I feel some small pathetic misery, a heavy fear settled in my chest, a roaring injustice. I need a pause button on life for when anxiety strikes because there are few things that make me feel just as pitifully helpless as watching time slipping by and not being able to engage. 

Welcome to Wellington!!

Today had bowled me over. If there's only one place in the world you set your sights on visiting then it should be Wellington. I mean, yes, I'm pretty biased, it was already in my favour, but wow, just, wow. 

I got up and it was hot, I mean 25 degrees hot, sunny as anything and I knew the first thing I needed to do was get some sun cream. I slept fine by the way, all my plans for what I would do when jetlag struck at 4am were forgotten as I slept right through near enough (though I did have a dream that tiny people stole my furniture and woke with a start at some ridiculous hour, I went back to sleep and all was well). So I went shopping and bought sun cream, groceries, nail clippers, boring stuff and to be honest it wasn't the most exciting grocery trip, new world is not my favourite supermarket. Anyway, I walked home and facetimed my beautiful, clever, funny, talented mother, all because I could, and what a laugh we had (I sang to the cats from 11,000 miles away, thanks technology!) and then I went out. I was not prepared. Wellington on a scorching sunday, late summer is a marvel. As I walked out to the waterfront, there was an explosion of colour, music and culture. I cannot make it sound any less fantastical than it was, there were people diving into the water from that ridiculous construction that looms out of the water like a crane, bagpipes playing by the farmers market, tents galore, drums beating and chinese dragons parading around. Students were gathered in big groups, the dragon boat festival was underway with collage teams gathered, taking to the water. I walked past it all in wonder, cicadas were doing  their bit too, there was almost more than I could take in. I wandered down to the NZ festival box office and bought tickets for a contemporary circus show tomorrow evening and when I doubled back, the crowds had gathered and the teams were engaging in a "chant-off" which even segued into a haka from one team. I was blown away by the beauty and culture of my tiny little piece of perfection, so far away from my roots by so close to my heart.

I perused the shops, chatted to people, booked a zealandia nature reserve night tour (this evening, while it is still dry) and checked the cinema times as well as walking down oriental parade to see the swimmers. I even, EVEN plucked up the courage to go into the welsh bar, and found that they host an accoustic session on a tuesday evening!! So I may go and dingle after all. 

Now I am going to drink my tea, eat my noodles and go looking for wildlife. I love you Wellington. 

At 6:30PM.

At 6:30 after having been awake since 7am, I finally plucked up the courage to go out. Oh joy. 

I am opposite a big park, I will add a photo. It's very pretty from above. I can't decide which is worse, being inside or being outside. That sounds terrible, It would have sounded better if I'd said "I can't decide which is better" but that would be a bit pointless. I'm stuck inside, don't get me wrong, I have days, especially if Mum is away, where I don't go out and I no one visits, but I'm never alone alone, there are people I could phone, people who are awake (*would it kill you guys to stay awake all night in case I need to chat??) and there are people outside the window, walking past, walking dogs, people across the street yelling and banging on each others windows (we live across from the 'vulnerable adults' accommodation, apparently window banging is like a whole language for them) and people parking their cars in out residents only bays (and earning beady stares from me as I sit in my window). What I mean is I still see a lot if people, and not people 32 floors down in the street like ants, people at eye level who most of the time probably don't know I'm there but it makes no difference. Secondly I make a lot of noise myself, I talk, I pull faces, I stomp, when I get hold of an instrument I sing, you get the picture. Thirdly, I have two cats. There is a formula for cats and happiness, I with I could remember more about the Nth term, but it goes something like: 1st cat =100% rise in happiness, each subsequent cat = a rise in happiness equal to 50% of the rise in happiness cause by first cat. I'm not kidding, this is science! 

Actually it's just a working theory but I fully believe it and if anyone would like to contribute to my reasearch into cat happiness, I'd be happy for you to add to my collection of cats, I have an one of those **wishlists like couples getting married have, so make sure no 2 people get me the same cat (goodness wouldn't that be embarassing!) but I feel I have strayed off the point here, my point is, I have the best non human company available anywhere at home, it's luxary company. One keeps my lap warm while the other one shows me just the right level of indifference to ensure I don't forget I'm in the presence of GODS. (And I don't.) 

Today I woke up at seven having slept fitfully and didn't leave the house. I haven't seen a single person or heard a single voice other than the occasional clamour of voices from the street if I open the window. 

I read all day, a very disappointing and frustating book about a reasonably paranoid detective that mademe reasonably paranoid myself. All day I rook short breaks from my paranoia to reward myself with self loathing and pity and terse words inside my head ("All the way to New Zealand and you won't go out, of hell done"). I took a short break at mid day to write to the blog, and another slightly later to tear up while looking out of the window miserabley and wondering if there was any way I could find an excuse to fall out of it (turns out no, throwing myself from a window won't make me happy, my heart has wounds that can only be healed by the soft paws of kittens hint hint). 

At 6:15 I finished the (bloody stupid pretentious) book and considered going outside. The sun had mostly cooled, but there were clouds drawing besides so It was that gentle eveningy light. I decided to risk it. 

So I did, I went to the park for 15minutes. Then I had a stroke of realisation! Parks are not the same as wildlife reserves or museum gardens, they are not filled with kids on school trips, tourists and nerds like myself! No matter what a beautiful park it is, come early evening it will be dotted with groups of locals, youths and drunk men weeing. After the second man  weeing I decided this was not a museum garden, these people were not here to observe Kaka reeding stations or glimpse a rare Takahe, these people are socialising and unwinding. I was glad to have an excuse to leave the park, but my only other option seemed to be to walk the busy shopping streets or go back to ny room. I went back to my room having not actually heard anyone speaking english and realising I didn't know which was worse, the feeling of unchanging unease that I felt crammed in one room (with a huge floor to ceiling window I might add) all day, or feeling totally isolated outside in a big city. 

Tomorrow I hope I will go to the zoo, I may take a temazepam before bed and hope that just like wherever I stay, today was 'first day fever' (something I more or less get when I go anywhere that involves not wanting to go out.) It does seem to crop up at it's strongest when I have just arrived somewhere. (I remember my 2nd day in Wellington, it was overcast, I shook all day and went very early.) 

This day almost exactly mirrors my big day of epiphany in Stockholm when I couldn't go out, spent all day reading and eventually attempted to leave the appartment in the afternoon. It was -7 degrees and I just couldn't get further than a few steps out of the doorway. That was my second day too, I guess this is also. I have a natural talent for not leaving the house! 

If I had someone with me, I would have gone out today, I know this is true. People who see my travel alone ask why I didn't find someone to come with me. It seems a pretty ridiculous question to me and I never know how to answer it, almost like being asked why I don't grown money in my garden. I would probably answer both questions the same, 'is that possible?' 'Can people even do that?' 'I don't know how and wouldn't know where to start'. I am terrible at being lonely, but I don't know where on earth I would find a human person to drag around the world. I guess I could grow one in my garden, spring is on thw way. 

Anyway, my point is, I'm tired, hungry, lonely, a touch paranoid and a little sad. I don't like to stay in and act the recluse, it's a waste of opportunity, time, money, patience and my self respect which is wearing pretty thin. 

Fix me? 

*this is an in joke I have with my Mum, I couldn't resist, even if she doen't read it. 

**wishlist as follows. Subject to change. 

Burmese

Maine coon

Egyptian Mau

American curl 

LaPerm

Scottish Fold

Bengal

Savannah 

Devon rex

Cornish rex

Any old Moggie

Tiger

Last of all I should note the appalling book in question was 'In the Woods' by Tana French, It's a long time since I've read a book that goes downhill so fast and that ends with such a lack of resolution that I wanted to throw it out of my giant window! On top of that is was bluderingly obvious, patronising, pretentious and fruitless! Highly unreccomended. 

View from my huge window.

I haven't really been up to much

Putting Auckland on my list was a bit of a mistake. I wrongly assumed that because I didn't actively dislike Auckland, I would probably like it if I went for longer. But it's too big and nerve wracking and I totally misjudged it. I have been up the sky tower (and will post a photo of the views), to the aquarium, bought a Ukulele, gone swimming, and plan to go to the zoo. I was going to visit the zoo today but I'm near paralyzed with fear and am too scared to leave my room. Oh that's a Surprise. My accomodation is on the 32 floor of a posh apartment building that's all polished marble lobby and 8th floor spa and swimming pool. I wasn't too bad when I arrived but I spent a considerable amout of time, about 6 hours working out how I could tell her how unhappy I am with the sate of my room and bathroom while I waited for her to get home. In the end I resolved to ask her for a hoover or dustpan and brush in the most tactful way possible with minimum fuss. It turns out that she doesn't own either. Apparently the cleaner does that and she brings them with her. Like hell. Why is my floor covered in debris and the bathroom FULL of hair?? What does the cleaner fo with the vacume, she's clearly not using it to suck things up! Anyway, it really isn't the host's fault, she then went about making me feel extra guilty as she picked up all the obvious pieces of  fluff, shopping tags, peach stems etc off my floor. I felt unbelieveabley bad since I wouln't have taken it up with her if I'd known. However there is still a considerable pile of hair I have swept into the corner of my super posh bathroom.  

How does anyone live without a hoover or dustpan and brush? Doesn't she feel helpless that, god forbid, something gets spilled or smashed she has no way of gathering it up? I think without cleaning things myself I would go exceedingly mad. Maybe because I have 2 cats and without a vaccume the house would be so fluffy we'd drown, but I don't think I could live without being able to clean and tidy myself. I have a look of horror on my face, you can't see it, but you can imagine it. 

The place I stayed before this was lovely but a but odd, beautiful house and neighbourhood, that's all I can say really. I didn't have access to a kitchen but the tea and coffee facilities were a nice surprise. Anyway, I love cicadas and wooden houses with picket fences and tree ferns in the suburbs, but I honestly don't think that would be enough to bring me back to Auckland a third time. For anyone who doesn't know, alrhough Welly is the capital, Auckland is the biggest city in NZ and is higher up in a slightly more subtropical, less windy area. It houses something like a third or a quarter of NZ's whole population and it's a city through and through. Wellington at the very bottom of the north island is smaller, and it's not only the capital of the country, but it's also considered the arts capital of NZ, put simply it's bloody lovely. The people are bloody lovely, the atmosphere is bloody lovely and I bloody love it. Auckland is full of high rises and I can't seem to get a grip on it, especially today I can't bring myself to go wondering in the crowds and big strees and chain stores and coffee shops, starbucks. Wellington is also the coffee capital of the world, it has a higer population density of coffee shops than New York city and they're mostly independenly owned, interesting, fair trade organic jobbies with interesting snacks and amazing ginger beer. 

What we're looking at, is the difference between Camden lock, or london southbank, Vs, Oxford circus. Honestly, I'm not in the mood, and even the lure of a zoo isn't doing the job. I'm skipping today, itMs a waste of money since I'm paying for this fiasco, but I'm going to make mistakes. At the end of the day, I've learnt some things, and especially if it go home having disliked Auckland and Oz, at least I went to Wellington which was the reason I came out here, I could have stayed longer, but I was okay with leaving too. If nothing else works out or comes good. It will have been worth it for that! However, what I hate to think is that I'll spend the next 11 days reading and then go home having not tried. I'm letting myself off on Auckland since I have done some things, and I've been before, it's okay to decide you don't like something as long as you've tried it, but if I go to Sydney and Melbourne and don't leave my room, I don't think I'll ever forgive myself. 

I had this vivid image in my head as I stood, soaked to my skin, water squenching between my toes with every step, in the middle of the forest at night in that silly bit of Cyclone, of a mother, most likely my own, saying "how do you know you don't like it if you don't try it?". I know that's what it comes down to, but I can't seem to find the balance, I don't want to live a life where I'm too scared to try things, but I also don't want to spend my life forcing myself to do things I don't want to do and labelling it 'fun' or a 'holiday'. I disagreed vehemently with anyone who called this trip a holiday. It's not because I'm really pernickety as you might think, it is bacause I'm not enjoying myself enough for it to be a holiday. The way I explained it to people, I made it sould like the reason I had such a problem with it was because calling it a 'holiday' belittled the amout of stress and trouble the whole thing took, made it sound like it was a breeze and it wasn't, made a mockery of the challenge this whole thing was or something. 'They're all travel' I'd tell people, 'they're trips not holidays', but it wasn't just because I wanted people to remember how hard it is or something, there were two real reasons above all others that I insisted the word 'holiday' wasn't used. One, I don't think I deserve a holiday, Holidays are treats for people who have worked hard and accomplished something, sure I work hard every day, but not in the sense that other people do, I work hard at not screaming or self harming, I work hard at leaving the house, at going to therapy, at not crying for days afterwards. That's not the same kind of contribution to society hard work that people deserve holidays for. My Mum deserves a Holiday, she cares for and puts up with a daughter with enough problems to wear out 10 Mums. I can look after myself of course physically, but when I look after myself, I'm teetering, holding my breath, waiting. I don't know how my psychological state would fare didn't live with Mum. 

Secondly, I didn't want people to call it a Holiday because a small, desperate part of me hopes there is more to travel than this. I hope that the sorts of holidays on adverts and in books and films are not a fictional thing, the holidays where you go somewhere with someone who's company you enjoy, you relax, unwind, maybe do something fun or exciting and most of all you enjoy. I'm really scared that this, going somewhere and being terrified and feeling guilty and struggling from one irrational challenge to the next is all there is. If this is a Holiday then what have I got to look forward to? 

I always imagine normal things I want. This trip isn't one of them, it has amazing parts yes, but I don't want my holiday to be terrifying and unpleasent and lonely. This to me is work, this is a struggle. This is like going in a mine to look for gold, I go in and it's not beautiful or wonderful, it's scary and dark and I'm alone. But there's treasure in there and if I can find it, I'll know where to look, and one day I can bypass all the horrid bits and go straight to the gold because I took the time to find it earlier. Short term pain for long term gain. Maybe one day I'll visit Wellington with someone who's company I enjoy, we'll relax, unwind, maybe do something exciting. Have fun. And it won't be a trip, it won't be scrabbbling about in the dark for gold, I'll already know where the gold is hidden. It'll be a holiday. And we won't visit Auckland. 

Lions and Tigers and Bears... Oh my!

There was a bit of a misunderstanding, at least On my end. On sunday morning I had a breakdown and instead of writing the ugly things I felt inside, I posted a passage from Figt Club, one of my favourite books. It was pushing the bounds of honesty and I thought everyone had politely ignored it. I have appologised several times but no one has acknowleged it. Well that's because it didn't publish. Still, I felt that as honesty goes, it should still be up there. I have decided to post it and it should apear above this post;  today's post. Still, feel free to politely ignore it! 

Monday morning. I know am running behind, also, I feel I owe some people an explanation and an apology. When I say I can't do one thing or another, I'm not putting myself down, I'm just stating a fact. I really am finding it so much harder to do all these things -write, play, (god forbid) draw- than I used to, so when I say I can't do it, I'm being honest, not criticising myself. I think a part of it is that I'm struggling with some demons I haven't identified yet, angry serpent-like things that are making me feel a lot of anger. I can't tell where they're coming from or what purpose they serve. Yesterday I had a gutteral rage that i couldn't find an outlet for, I'm sorry that I felt the need to express it here. I know it may have been unfair of me, but I like to belive that this blog is about a whole person and a whole experience and I do have a lot of ugly feelings inside me. 

Thank you to all the kind people who stick with me and write such kind things. You are honarary family, you have shown a kindness I find baffling and touching as it exceeds what I expect from people. 

I really do feel like I'm losing something, but I hope I'm just mislaying it. It's easy to see the bad things, they're louder than the simple moments of happiness that weave themselves into our day. I have seen and done the most delightful and wonderful things here, I've met strangers who needed somone to talk to, I've done things I never thought I'd get to do, and found amazing simple pleasures, perfect moments. ...however I have wrestled with feelings that are not new to me, but still continue to confound me each time they arise. I don't want them and they're not welcome. A better way to live would be to simply observe these feelings without judging them, to watch as they come and go without giving them power. Yeah, I know the drill, but I can't do it. Yet. 

So what have I done since the last time I really wrote? I've been to the zoo and fed the Lions, I've (shhh, it's a secret) been in the serval enclosure and petted the servals, I've been back to Ninjaflower (Wellington's best piercing studio) and had a few ear piercings, I've been to see beyond (a modern circus act) in the opera house, I've been back to Ninjaflower for photos of my piercinngs (to go in their portfolios), I've been to Zealandia (Wellington's nature reserve) in the sunny sunny daytime, I've had mighty tantrums inside and done some major sulking, I've been to see the Hobbit again (3D, 48fps, Atmos sound) and made up with my inner nerd, I've met up with some women who share in a hobby with me, I've talked a lot! I've had minor breakdowns, that felt like the end of the world when they happened. I've said some things here that were maybe too honest. I've been back to the zoo a 3rd time and gone behind the scenes with one of the keepers to meet their tiger, I have been snubbed and ignored by a tiger! I have met sun bears instead, and watched them go through their training and health checks, I have fed bears jam off a spoon. 

I have been on a night tour of Zealandia and been caught in a downpour in the forest valley for 2 hours; the tail end of Cyclone Lusi. I have seen a Kiwi roaming, I have seen a wild Eel, Wetas and Tuis and Bellbirds, I have seen Tuatara and Glowworms so beautiful they hurt to watch. 

I have had to wear flipflops and keep all my drippy, soaked through clothes in plastic bags.  

I have walked Cuba street and the waterfront and met many strangers who wanted someone to tell their story to, I met Terry who had brain damage but remembers 'gale and angela' and remembered his father the moment he heard him speak, I have met the woman who usually cooks but decided to get her friend a takeaway, I have met the man who is south african but lives in New zealand, who just got a new job.

I have drank ginger beer in the sun, and eaten in the museum garden, and searched for pebbles under a bridge. 

Lastly, I have flown away, leaving Wellington behind and arriving in Auckland with it's summer breezes, and Cicadas and sunshine in the day, and it's crickets by night. I have eaten warm Pumkin soup in a mug and gotten very sleepy. 

Now you have got as far as I have. What will tomorrow be made of? I don't know, good things and peace I hope. 

Night night xx 

Films by starlight

There seems to be a lot of confusion about when I did what and what I've already done, so from now on I'll add the names of the days, and for anyone who doesn't know, New Zealand is 13 hours ahead of Britian, which basically means that when you get up on Friday morning, I'm about to go to bed friday night. 

Thank you everyone who comments, it's so kind of everyone to be so supportive. 

So the day I wrote about the last night, where I went to the Zoo, that was wednesday. Wednesday evening was amazing, I learn a real lesson. Where I am staying is Oriental Parade, across from Waitangi Park, one of Wellington's main central parks. Over the summer the park has been host to several 'films by starlight' events where the are food and drink stalls, a huge inflatable screen is erected and anyone can go sit in the park at dusk and watch one of the carefully selected films. They have had some wonderful choices including, The princess bride, Despicable me and Spirited away. On Wednesday night, they were playing one of my all time very favourite films (a film that if you haven't seen, I implore you to watch) Moonrise Kindom (Although not a children's film, it follows the story of two troubled children living on a small new england island who meet and plan to run away together. It's quirky with an interesting sense of humour, a fantastic cast, a wonderful backdrop and best of all, scouts!) 

I decided to go and crossed the road to the park, I was there for 5 minutes max before I decided I was too cold (read: SCARED) to stay. I came home. 

I told myself it wasn't fate that my favourite film was playing across the road, I told myself it wasn't destiny and it wasn't there to test me. I lied to myself to try to make myself feel better. The truth is, it wasn't fate or destiny, I had chosen to stay in the center of the city, and it was one of a selection of well chosen films. However, I was lying when when I told myself it wasn't a test. Maybe god or the universe were not testing me, but I was certainly testing myself and I was failing miserably. So I pulled my scratchy thermals over my sunburn (don't bring it up, I'm wearing suncream now), pulled another two layers over the top, and my snuggliest hat and scarf (I'd only packed for warm weather, it's lighter), I filled a hot water bottle and fetched another to sit on. I swallowed a spoonful of man the hell up and I walked back over to the park. I found a place to sit and waited a while. The film started and I felt so good that I had persevered! I waited 10 minutes and went home, I was cold and scratchy and uncomfortable. 

I passed the test because I knew when I was giving up out of fear and I found a way through. I passed the test because I didn't give up because I was scared. It didn't matter if I changed my mind and went home anyway (I was BLOODY FREEZING!), what matters is that I didn't let my fear stop me, I did what I felt I needed, no, wanted to do and I passed the test. Then I got extra marks for  knowing when to give up. For recognising when I was no longer giving up out of fear and for realising 'actually, I'm just not enjoying this!'. 

You see, I learnt recently that fear doesn't just stop me doing what I want to do, it also causes me to do all sorts of things that I don't really want to do too. 

When I booked this trip, I felt so bad that I wasn't going for 6 months or a year like most people seem to. I said to my (lovely) Mother "I feel so bad, I am too scared to go for 6 months!" And Mum said "do you want to go for 6 months?" To which I replied "OF COURSE NOT! That's what makes it so scary!" 

In my effort to overcome and conquer every possible fear in my life, I sometimes forget to check whether the reason I'm scared isn't just because it's not something I want. It's confusing, but sometimes I do things because I think I should overcome my fear of them, without checking whether I actually want to do them first. 

Sometimes I can't tell whether I want todo  something until I've pushed through my fear and sometimes even then I can't tell, but it's something I need to be aware of, that my fear definitely clouds my judgement, and not always in thw way I expect it to. 

I am very lucky that I have such wonderful people around me, and that I am learning things all the time. Anyone who remembers my resent trip to Sweden will know I had a pretty tough day where I was too scared to leave the appartment, but that day taught me more than I ever realised. Sometimes, enjoying things isn't about forcing yourself to do things you don't want to do! Although that's a concept I find hard to wrap my tiny mind around, I'm now learning that being happiness is actually less about making yourself suffer and more about being happy... Who knew? 

That was Wednesday, we've still got Thursay to go since it's Friday now and I had many adventures in between! 

We're all going to the zoo tomorrow...

Well it's been 2 days since I wrote, so I better get you up to speed! As it happens, we're not all going to the zoo tomorrow, sorry to disapoint. After my last blog post, I went home and read until I finally finished my long standing love affair with Sookie Stackhouse, it has taken a while but I finally read the last book in this ongoing series of guilty pleasures (A fact I'm telling you because I'm still grieving the end of our relationship). For those of you who are wondering, I am now entertaining the likes of Tyler Durden, Fight Club is a must read in my humble opinion. 

I took a Temazepam before bed since I just wasn't sleepinging properly up to this point (no one mention red bull, I wouldn't drink it unless I knew how it would affect me) so I thought a temazepam (prescribed for my bad sleep and nightmares) would help. And so it did! I slept right through to 9.30am and I felt better. Nightmares do terrible things to yours sleep, it's amazing what a night free of fear can do.

Since I could feel the effects of my good sleep wearing off and it was overcast again, I didn't want to waste the day so I took decisive action and caught a bus to Lyall bay, where I had stayed for a while last year (anyone remember my love affair with burmese beauty Rosie?). Lyall bay has houses, a beach and not that much more! What it does have is a deli. The most beautiful deli, inside and out! I didn't get a chance to visit the deli last year, since I kept setting off before it was open, and comeing home after it was shut, I decided it was finally time to try that deli. I had brunch, a mozzarella, tomato and olive toastie, though I don't like tomatoes or olives (or capers for that matter, it had capers too) but I ate it and felt very grown up about it too! (Is that what I think grown ups do? Eat things they don't like?? A question to explore another time!) 

After my 'Mmmmm' brunch (is that a good Mmmm or a bad Mmmm?) I set off to walk over the tallest hill in the whole world! (A regular size hill, Wellington is all hills) I will add some photos at the end, when you see the teeny tiny houses in them, remember that's where I started off. Lyall bay and Kilbirnie are both tha same side of a big hill, on the other side is Newtown park. You can go round the hill by bus, but I had decided to walk the big silly thing. It was like slaying a dragon in case you need something to compare it to, like slaying a really big, hilly, scorching hot, noisy, dragon. These hills are the kind that are steep and have zig zaggy roads going up them, last year my host laughed at me for calling the hills wiggly slopes or windy slopes, apparently most people just call them hills. 

Suddenly, climbing the wiggly slope, I could hear cicadas again and birds too! I had missed them so much as they'd stoped in the city due to the clouds, but in the trees they were still singing. Then I heard my first Tui of the trip! Tui's are a magnificant NZ bird, they sound like a combination of panpipes, and an animal being murdered. The first time I ever heard one I spent half an hour searching for the source of the strangled sounds and almost phoned the police! I love them, they are quintessentially new zealandish (not a word, AGAIN! I'm tired.) and make me dreadfully happy! 

I crossed the epic hill and reached the zoo where I imediately gave in to all my impulses and booked an encounter... Surprise surprise. But not like a sensible person would imagine, I booked it for THE NEXT DAY. Yes, you heard right, I went to the zoo, and then booked to go to the zoo again the next day. If I'd done it online, I could have gone on the day of the encounter, stayed all day and got free admission, but nooo, I did exactly what I did last year, and booked the encounter on a different day so I would have to go back, and pay for the first day too. 

Anyway, I had a splendid day at the zoo, looking at animals and the like. I then walked over the wiggly dragon again and this time to Kilbirnie so I could go to a better supermarket. Countdown sells the mango I like, New world does not. 

The  I took the bus back. How clever I thought I was, saving a doller and 50 cents (turns out I wasn't) by taking the bus from Kilbirnie instead of the zoo. 

In the evening I had some big fish to fry! But my neck hurts so I'm going to publish this and split the rest into 2 more posts. PHOTO TIME!