Delhi welcomes you with open arms

Back by popular demand

I'm writing, I don't know what I'll write, I'll just start and see if the words find their places. 

I left Britain a few days ago to travel to Japan, on the way I had a long layover in Delhi, India. I didn't especially want to stop in Delhi, as much as I've longed to see India, a 24hr layover didn't seem the best way to do it, the flight was the only one I could afford though and I figured I'd arrive in the evening, go straight to my hotel and then spend the day seeing Delhi before departing for Tokyo that evening. So I thought. There were several hitches before I'd set off. I couldn't prearrange an airport transfer so I would have to take a taxi, at night, that's a big stepping stone for me. Secondly the visa to enter India costs £60, that's okay, but it did mean that the flight wasn't as reasonable as it seemed at first glance. Thirdly you can't get Rupees in britain, the lady at the bureau de change told me, I still assume that's true. 

Before I tell you about the experience, I need to make it clear I am stating the facts and describing the situation. Yes, it sucked, yes, I was disappointed, scared, tired, frustrated, angry, but that's not why I'm telling you, I am not telling you  because I feel hard done by, I'm telling you because you asked and I'm just being honest about the journey so far. 

The flight was fine, I couldn't sleep but that's usual, although they did black out the cabin and switch off the lights which is a little unusual for a daytime flight. The food was amazing, I'm not generally a fan of meals on planes and used to habitually turn them down before I discovered the 'asian vegetarian' option, and no one does asian vegetarian like India. It was some of the best food I've ever eaten, which says a lot. 

Cutting to the chase the problems started after customs, the bureau de change wouldn't let me change any less than £150 which I couldn't afford, they directed me outside to the ATMs, what I didn't know was that the ATM was going to reject my card as nationwide suspected fraudulent activity. Okay, my bad, should have told them but it didn't even cross my mind. However, they didn't contact me for verification, they contacted mum but then wouldn't speak to her. After many failed attempts to withdraw from the ATMs, I figured I'd go back inside and sort something out, it was 29 degrees outside, very busy and nearing midnight at this point. 

Only once you've left the airport that's it, you're not allowed back in, them's the rules. The military on the door didn't want to hear me out but eventually said I could go in if I left all my luggage with them and went straight to the ATM (there was no help desk or anything).

After another 20 mins of failed withdrawals and running from ATM to ATM I finally managed to get onto the airport wifi which I used to call home. Mum informed me that nationwide had blocked my card. I rang their international number but  my credit ran out before I could even speak to someone. Next mum tried but they wouldn't discuss it with her, then they tried to phone me (to no avail). At last a solution presented itself when I facetime called mum and she put me on loudspeaker to talk to Nationwide on the home phone. Bloody hell, just thinking about it makes me nauseous. There's no way I could have contacted them without help, they'd blocked access to my one source of money and then made amending the situation myself impossible by making the international number charged at standard network rates for international calls. I couldn't have topped up and rang, they'd blocked my card. Anyway, you get the picture. Just moments after I'd successfully taken money out the military guard found me and demanded I leave the terminal, it was dead lucky he hadn't come for me 5 minutes earlier. I took a taxi (who charged me 2000 rupees for a 5 minute ride and then asked for a tip, I was too tired to argue the ethics of this) and arrived at my hotel in a very intimidating area. 

I went to sleep around 3am and got up at 11 the next morning. There was no way I felt capable of exploring Delhi whilst scared, over tired and in 36 degree heat with 3 weeks worth of luggage on my back. It was a shame, but I know I couldn't have done it. The hotel transferred me to the airport (300 rupees...) and I was relieved to be back safe and sound, only I wasn't allowed in. Of course, eventually I got in, made my flight and am now in Tokyo about to sleep for the first time in 2 days, but there was an entire day of being sent from one place to another, having my passport checked just to use the loos, being told to collect a new boarding pass, being told I couldn't have a new boarding pass, queuing for things only to be sent to the wrong places and having to start again. Surprisingly I took this whole charade in my stride, it was all just a chance to learn, even if it was ridiculous and upsetting, but my patience broke when the woman at the help desk in departures told me that on my way back I would have to clear immigration, collect my luggage, leave the airport and then check back in and clear immigration again because (and I quote) "you cannot stay in the airport, you must leave the airport mam, there is no transit area, you must collect your bags and leave the airport". I had already asked several people at different desks and been given different answers ranging from 'your bags will go straight to your final destination' to 'you may need to collect your bags and check them in again, it depends on the ticket type' but this woman didn't even bother to fob me off sensibly, we were standing IN the transit area less than 50m from the transit hotel in the airport that she works at every day that had thousands of passengers in transit every day and she just reached into her bum, had a bit of a rummage and game me whatever nonsense made up on the spot answer she found first. Bloody hell! I walked down the departures hall only to be accosted by a member of the transit hotel staff who wanted to know if I was on a long layover and would I like  sleep. I asked her if people were allowed to stay in the airport and she said "yes mam, you have to stay in the airport because you have no visa" which although presumptuous, was almost definitely closer to the truth than the answer the woman at the information desk came up with. I could have spat fire and rained down glass, god I was angry, I almost booked another flight there and then just to avoid Delhi on the way back. But I didn't, I sat calmly, got on my flight and left. 

This is part one of two I guess. I'm in Japan now, that's another story. 

I don't hate India, I hate that such a brilliantly cultural and enterprising country only showed me it's bad points. I hate that I can't help but feel angry, I can't help but be disappointed, I'm angry because I was so ready to love India and it took that away from me. I think that means I will have to go back. 

I learnt a lot of lessons, both about India and about my own strength, I'm glad every awful thing unfolded as it did. I feel really lucky. I can still be angry, I can feel both. 

Failure

It's a heavy word isn't it. Failure weighs on us all. It weighs so hard on me that it creeps into every new thing before it has begun. I'm afraid that fear of failure might be a more powerful motivator than hope of success. I'm not scared of failing, I have already failed, failure is already branded across my interests, my education, ocupation, my body and mind. I am already trapped in a cage of failure and the shame of it, and when I try, I try because I need to escape it somehow. But taking risks, trying things, these are the surest way to more failure. I don't believe that if you don't try then you've already failed, but I do believe that trying is important, despite the risk of failure, I believe it is the better option. When I started writing I was doing so for myself, I made books for myself and I was happy doing it but I wanted to share them, I wanted to prove that I was worth something. Now I have been encouraged and bolstered, I have been told I could use what I have made, I have been told that it could become a career, an occupation, a small hoped that I might use it to drag myself out of this pit of failure I feel I am living in. People were kind, I am still glad of that. Then I went away, I don't know if it made a difference or whether the weight of all that hope and expectation put a spanner in the works but now I have been home weeks and I cannot draw, I have a traditional art block, it is like someone has frozen my hand and only words flow from it, never pictures. All those words waiting for their pictures, you know I would have to write a thousand of them just to break even. I am back to square one and the anxiety of not achieving what I had hoped I would, and the weight of the failure yet again has made me too heavy to drag myself in to school, yet more failure. I have become a ball of self loathing and pity, a tangled, knotted mess of contempt, a mocking, sneering bully. "Thought you'd amount to something eh? You're hopeless and you will always be broken, stay down, don't get back up, you're defective, you failed again". 

Each day goes by and I wish that what I've already got was enough for me to be one of those fuctional, worthy members of society, but we live in a Jeremy Kyle culture and I cannot unhear the things that define me, the way society sees my sort, the truths about who I am. 

So, these are my ponderings on failure, this is where I am post-travel, I don't want placation, I am venting, pouring out the reality I am living due to my perception, it cannot be changed but with time and perhaps validation. I'm sorry it's so negative, not for you, for me, I wish I was happer for me, not so I could write cheery blogs about birdsong and gardening and lemonade. 

The most useful thing anyone can do is hand me some knowledge that I might find my way out. 

Homeward bound

I woke up this morning and burst into tears. I am worn, I am frayed, I feel full of relief and hope and fear, I am on my way home. Yesterday left me an emotional wreck, I'm tired, I'm ready to go back to my routines, to be back with my people, to stop pushing myself to do all the time and just be for a while. If someone offered me more time in Wellington, I wouldn't have to think twice, I know I would take it, but with the choices I have, I want to be home. I'm not looking forward to the flights and I know when I return I'm going to feel so very strange, returning home is always difficult, especially when you have difficulties with object constancy, I have to prepare myself for the onslaught of mixed emotions I'll go through, as I know I will. 

I think that's all there is to say, this has been a real experience, but I think I'll have to let you know how I feel about it later. 

Ps. I saw a huntsman spider.

Homeward bound

I woke up this morning and burst into tears. I am worn, I am frayed, I feel full of relief and hope and fear, I am on my way home. Yesterday left me an emotional wreck, I'm tired, I'm ready to go back to my routines, to be back with my people, to stop pushing myself to do all the time and just be for a while. If someone offered me more time in Wellington, I wouldn't have to think twice, I know I would take it, but with the choices I have, I want to be home. I'm not looking forward to the flights and I know when I return I'm going to feel so very strange, returning home is always difficult, especially when you have difficulties with object constancy, I have to prepare myself for the onslaught of mixed emotions I'll go through, as I know I will. 

I think that's all there is to say, this has been a real experience, but I think I'll have to let you know how I feel about it later. 

Ps. I saw a huntsman spider.

My time in Sydney.

The last few days I have done the following: 

- Taronga zoo

- Cinema to see Zootopia 

- Got very wet

- Walked quite a lot

- World's worst cat cafe

- N2 (liquid nitrogen) ice cream

- Met up with my friend Luke

- Bough my teaware (expect photos) 

I think that's it, I've not done everything I'd planned to, but it rained quite a lot and I sort of kept running out of time. 

I'm not happy, I'm surviving, that is my goal, just to get through it all. Sometimes something is nice, like the sun today, but I'm quite focused on getting home now and that's my right, to feel that way. I don't have to like everything, I can hate the whole holiday if I want and not learn a single lesson from it to boot. But that's not the case, I am growing a lot as this is a challenge and it takes a lot of skills to negotiate it emotionally, so it has great value, but I don't know if I'll return to Sydney, at least not for simple enjoyment.

I do have a day and a half left though and I'm certainly still open minded about enjoying myself.  

The nature of travel

I believe:

Travel is a careful balance of three really important elements; nourishment, survival and growth. 

Nourishment is the good stuff, walking in the sunshine, seeing things that make you laugh or smile, unexpectedly connecting with strangers, climbing really big hills and seeing the vastness of the cook strait etc, they're not hard times, though sometimes they're more nourishing than others, but like a really good salad with beetroot and goats cheese and quinoa, they just feel... Good. 

Survival is day to day living. Eating, sleeping, washing, keeping warm (and dry), attending to medical issues, attending to emotional issues. It's the things that keep you going, it's the auto pilot, it's integral because without it you wouldn't survive, it's life maintainance. 

Then there's growth. Think muscles, think trees, it's often trauma that leads to growth and strengthening, sometimes it's nourishment, but without trauma I don't believe we grow. So a healthy dose of challenge is required for travelling, and the ability to see the value in each experience so that we can turn them into growth and in turn do more, seek more nourishment, seek further growth. 

I believe that without these three elements, travel would be at best unfulfilling, at worse life threatening. (You need food and rest! Survival!)

There's one more thing that I think is really important, I'm going to call it Authenticity. 

I think when you travel, and yes it's cliche, you have to be true to your inner nature, it has to be for you, your own authentic self. I know people who I believe are outgoing, I believe they make many friends when they travel, I know people who are adventurous, I believe they see more, I have wanted to be those people, I don't particularly relish the thought of travelling 11,000 to sit alone in my room, and I don't believe it's nourishing, however, it's MY experience, it's what happens to me, and I can tell you one thing, when I can't leave the house, I'm certainly not trying to be someone else. (Usually there's some growth, I use the time to reflect, to some degree.) Anyway, I digress, it's really important that whatever you do, you do it as you. 

Travelling is an ongoing process, after you return, you reflect on what happened, you begin to shape your memories from the experiences you had and those memories replace what it was really like, they are an amalgamation of your experiences, and how you feel looking back, and they last a lot longer than the experiences themselves. Sometimes, people and places we didn't like get a rose tinted makeover when we make our lasting memories, and equally the things we might have liked get tainted by something that happened afterwards and our memories will tell us it was a negative experience, that's how life works. The processing part, when we return home is as important as the experiences themselves, because it's so far reaching, it stays with you a lifetime. 

And that, my friends, ends this evening's reflection. 

Welcome to Sydney

I miss Wellington, I miss New Zealand, but I really miss Wellington. I wrote an emotional outpouring earlier on that very subject but it went a bit rogue and now I don't know if I will publish it.

I am in Sydney and all I can think of is spiders. Spiders on walls, in shoes, in my tea, climbing out of the air con and creeping into bed with me at night. I'd forgotten this feeling from last time. I am on high alert. 

This morning I got up and went out, anxious yes, but just getting on with it, without procrastination, good! Only, less than an hour later the rain was down to my socks, through my bag and my raincoat, down my back, through my trousers, under my arms. I was not as rain proof as I'd imagined and it felt like a low blow. I had to come back and put my clothes in the dryer. It's hard enough to get out of the house, but I managed it and it doesn't feel right that I should be driven back inside by something as elemental as the weather. It's going to be twice as hard to get back out now that half the day has slipped away and my boots are unwearable, what about my 'rain proof' plans? Do I perservere or do I see some sense and change them now I have less time? ...and we're back to the question of 'what do I do? What's most important?'. It rained yesterday, but today was an opening of the heavens, the streets turned into rivers and people huddled everywhere, the fear of it has knotted my shoulders with tension that I haven't yet managed to release, the sky is a huge and white, overcast now but no longer raining and my clothes tumble around, slowly drying. I am shaking from the imagined cold, it is over 20 degrees but my mind has told me it is freezing and so it must be true. 

The spiders only come in when it rains, it might even rain spiders next, I don't know, it's all spiders and rain here in australia. 

I've got my rose tinted, nostalgia glasses on, I really wish I was soaking wet in Wellington instead. 

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/

 

Baptism of fire

Ah. 

So.. 

Right, well... 

I managed to leave the apartment at 12.35pm more or less, only last night when I got back from my Zealandia tour, I was locked out, key wouldn't work, had to go outside and dial up to the apartment to be let in. So I left the apartment just now, and I'm locked out again. I guess that answers that question doesn't it. I'll just have to cope. I'm going to the cinema.