Is that nutmeg in the catsup?

**Let's get caught up, shall we?**

3.20
AUCKLAND
the swollen metropolis I did not expect to meet. There are bodies everywhere--a sea of faces going places. It's a place of business of management of consumerism. I'm not sure what of New Zealand I'm finding here, if anything at all. Somehow it has its own personality. It seems easy, mellow, pleasant as a big city could be. But it's raining people here. Skateboarders & skinny girls drenched in Ugg boot vitality & busy businessmen--OH, the businessmen! I walked behind two gentlemen dressed in cheap matching pinstripe suits. It was odd, they were so straight up and down & uniform. I wanted to lay horizontally in front of them to counteract all of their glorious but overwhelming verticalness. In fact, there's a lot of pinstripe going on around here. hmmm....
The crosswalks blow my mind.
I'm not sure I'm properly grasping the concept. One would think it's not so difficult, but given the fact that I've almost been run over five (count 'em 5!!) times today proves the contrary. When the green light goes the street floods with people, flocking from all directions. I get so excited I just start charging out at every opportunity. Perhaps I should do as the locals & stop attmepting to reinvent the wheel with my Oregonian exuberence...hell, I'm still trying to figure out how the wheel works, anyway.
I bought a bus ticket today. I leave for Hawke's Bay tomorrow. After purchasing my ticket I wandered the sunsoaked waterfront& took some shit-ass photographs of lamp posts. I had the good sense to wander into a quaint backalley winebar on Queen St. Now I'm resting with a tall glass of local Chardonnay (lovely) on the brick patio weirding out local Pinstripes with my uncontrollably goofy grin & mangey beard. I would very much like to find a park to read in, maybe take a nap in the breezy afternoon light.
A wee furry spider just lept from my table to my journal. It startled me a bit, not because it's a spider, but because I nearly wrote the word 'nap' on its head.
Also, while I'm being somewhat off tangent, one of the fattest women I've ever seen just walked by with a back of vegetables in her arms. Perhaps things are on the up n' up for her? One can hope.
Lastly, I've only just arrived & already caught myself saying "Cheers" instead of "Thank You" several times. So I apologize in advance if I return home with a bullshit Kiwi accent. I never meant for it to happen, and I'll do everything in my power to prevent it from following me home.
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Now it's late afternoon. I've spent the sunlight sprawled in Albert Park by the University. The sun was soothing & calm, bursts of warmth spilling out of pillowy clouds. I listened to music & found myself fast asleep in the middle of a pickup football game. They didn't seem to mind me there, nor did I. My brain began screaming for coffee so I took a stroll down the hill, out of the park & into yet another alley, this one far more posh than previously explored and afforementioned alleys. I was sorta overtaken by this strange marriage of shameless consumption & cultured peace. It was people both shopping for $400 sunglasses & simply enjoying a post-daily-grind brew in the good company of friends, laughing & smiling...even the upper-crust don't seem to take themselves too seriously--still, I judge them unfairly throught my near-destitute eyes.
I sat on a bench for awhile watching & listening. A boy caught a pigeon in a record store & set it free outside (in my face). Two Asian girls pulled gray hairs from each others' heads. Another Pinstripe lollygagged by with a vibrant bouquet of magenta flowers & a mile-wide grin on his face. I finally stopped spacing and grabbed an espresso so I could sip something while I write. I also needed something to fill a small void in my tummy...gotta make them NZD's stretch a bit.
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I took an incredibly long walk around the city this evening. Initially I was looking for something to eat & maybe a cold beer somewhere. Instead I gazed endlessly at the urban scenery around me...old churches & huge apartment high rises & banks & superettes & falaffel stands. Soon enough I found myself just plain-old wandering. The whole time I tried to convince myself I needed a night of good fun. Drink a little too much, play some darts, make friends with a bum. But somehow it wasn't in me. I opted for a kabob cart & a Sprite--which was perfect--& read for a bit. & then what? The city just began livening up. Debauchery? Nope. Chamomile on the corner with my truty Moleskine? That's where I am now.
There's a loud man preaching/assaulting people next door. However ineffective at lovingly sharing the gospel he is, I do find him entertaining...much in the way I enjoy a Maury Povich paternity-test/gothic-makeover episode.
A feeling of loneliness has set in, & while in the daylight I took solace in it & embraced it, now it feels like isolation. At this point I think I need a good sleep in a bunk bed with five Germans. Which works out well because that is exactly what I have.
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3.21
Ahhhhh...a fresh start, a new beginning. Last night found me in a melancholy state--but with some sweet emails & a good long slumber & a desperately needed shower ( I didn't realize how completely homeless I smelled until I built up a lather--it makes sense that I was lonely last night) I find myself in a cozy place.
I packed up my things & hiked down to the waterfront. I stopped in a superette for some water & tobacco & had a pleasant chat with the Korean boy (strangest accent ever) about how expensive long-distance calls are. I said my goodbye & continued down to a coffeehouse. Now I'm resting my weary old bones in the delicate overcast morning haze with an espresso & my first pie--steak & potato. And it's freaking yummy. I catch a bus around noon today to head out to Hastings where I will be scooped up by ??? from the winery. For the weekend I'll be boarding with a Chilean guy, and then who knows from there.
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On a very long bus ride but one I don't mind in the least (aside from the couple of hours where I was certain I was going to shit myself--espresso + steak pie = shitselfing).
The movies don't lie, this place is stunning. And it's a strange sight to see the array of trees, pines & palms holding hands forming lush canopies over soft green hills. We've passed several graveyards that climb up cliffs of emerald mountains, their ancient fingers outstretched into fields ripe with sheep & wood fences & provencial farmhouses.
We've just stopped in Rotorua, a small (very midwest American-feeling) village peppered with steaming mineral springs & hugged by vast forested hills. The driver gave me half an hour to grab some food & grab food did I. Ordered the "Special"--whatever that meant--from the kindly saltoftheearth barkeep...out came a burger the size of New Zealand herself: two cuts of bbq'd chicken, a slice of fresh pineapple, pickled beet root, goat cheese, greens & housemade aioli with a generous heap of fries & a cold Stella Artois. Needless to say, I left Rotorua satisfied.
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I arrived in Hastings a little later than I had hoped/planned. My ride was nowhere to be found. Phone calls, no answers. I waited around a bit to see if they would come but to my dismay no one showed. I spent the better part of the night looking for a place to lay my head. Everything was packed. Apparently it's apple-picking season & this seems to fill rooms for weeks on end. I began wandering outside of town--thought maybe I'd find something on the outskirts. I must have gone an hour with no results & beneath a torrential downpour of warm Pacific rain to boot. Suddenly a ratty old Toyota van pulls up next to me & an excitable young Kiwi pops his head out & says "Hey freend, you need a roide?!"
I replied shyly, "Yes, but I've no idea where I'm going. I need a bed. Know of any?"
"Yeeah yeaah, wee'll take you theere! Hop een!"
Door slip open. I hopped. & there I discovered a chorus of giddy kids rambunctiously screaming some pub tune as they pulled me into the back. We sped off in what I was certain was the wrong direction. One of the kids asked me "Wheere ave you beeen walking from?"
I said, "the bus depot."
"Sheet mate! Your leegs must be tired!"
They were.
The car screeched to a hault. "Heere we ah, mate!"
"Yeeah yeeah, St. George's Street, St. George's Street!!!" they cheered. Apparently it's a good street.
I got out, waved thank-you-good-byes & they were off again & there was I, several kilometers further from where I wanted to be & not a bed in sight. I sorta half-laughed & laid some Neil Young on my ears while I hiked, exhausted, back towards the city center.
Finally I stumbled into a classy joint called the Albert Hotel where I met a gruff but kind woman named Nike. She gave me a room (that I'm pretty certain belonged to someone else) for $25 & assured me "it's not the Reetz, but it's a place to reest." I had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't the Ritz anyway. "We don't want ya roamin the steeets , notta nice Ameeerican boy."
"Thank you, I really appreciate it." I smiled, wearily. She wouldn't smile back. But she was sweet. She smiled with her frown.
I went to my room & it was exactly the shithole I had hoped it would be. I set my things down & headed downstairs toward the bar where I was introduced, by Nike, as Eddim, to everyone in the room, which consisted of gigantic towers of Maori people. I ordered the coldest, cheapest beer on draught & smiled wholeheartedly with each soothing gulp while I rugby gamed blared overhead. Why, of all times, do I feel like the wealthiest man in New Zealand right now?
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