It's been a while since I've written, but as the saying goes, time flies when you're having fun.
Now, I know I promised an adventure but I hesitate to say that I have had one. You see, once upon a time when we were particularly short on water during a kayaking trip in the Gulf, my good friend Mr. Cli"ph" Walls determined an undeniable truth of life, "It's not an adventure unless it gets f***ed up, then it's just a trip." With how swimmingly these past few months in New Zealand have gone, I'm pretty sure that all of this fun has actually amounted to a trip.
For example, being the Pinot Noir-loving red meat-eating triathlete that I am, a wine tasting a la "push-bike" beach trip to Martinborough and Castle Point was pretty much the perfect use of a few days of my latest study break (after all, I am studying food...). Two of my "favourite" Canadians, Guan and Caeley picked me up (this time less creepily than that prior when I was literally abducted for a day of drinking at the Tui Factory) and we took the windy and windy road past the Schoc Chocolate Factory to the Martinborough Wine Region. Baskets and all, we rode our bikes from vineyard to vineyard inevitably employing increasingly interesting descriptors of our tasting experience as we went along: Winery #1= "mmmm," Winery #2= "it has a smoky nose to it, doesn't it Guan?" Winery #3= "This tastes like licking a barrel". Never-the-less we each befriended a bottle and enjoyed them consecutively over a Scotch Fillet (pronounce the T, not kidding), some veggies and ashy goat cheese at our little cabin at the holiday park. Guan scored some serious points when he pulled up the next morning with coffees for Caeley and I. Back to the car, we took even windier and windier roads out to a sandy seaweed covered beach where we climbed up cliffs to overlook the reef. Fortunately, despite the gusts, no one blew off of the bluff but unfortunately watching for "rogue waves" while being pelted by sand in ways that make you bleed creates less-than-ideal swimming conditions. The drive home had lollies, chips, rainbows and three smiling North Americans.
To be fair, I probably still had a big, fat, stupid smile on my face from my mid-semester break trip to the South Island. After a ferry ride across the Cook Strait and a story book train ride along the water through the Marlborough wine region, I, by what perhaps most-closely can be described as "divine intervention," landed on the doorstep of the Macfarlane Family's picture-perfect dairy farm in Ashburton (Canterbury). I was completely spoiled. I did all of the things that most dairy farmers don't get to do like sleeping in and enjoying a nice breakfast and was still chasing cows out of paddocks, tubing calves, milking and all around enjoying being completely covered in poo. Intermittently Andy, Tricia, Thomas, Julia, James and Lauren showed me the more refined side of what they so lovingly, or perhaps more ironically, referred to as AshVegas. We shopped the little boutiques in town and in tiny Geraldine for chocolates, clothes and cooking wares, ate every strange kind of lolly the bulk bins held, went for walks and drives and mini-hikes by braided rivers. We ate quiche in cafes, drove on the "other side" of the road, had an absolutely epic day of baking, wine and cheese at night near the fireplace before dinner and even fit in a little trip to the "junque" shop. I laughed to tears over home-made dinners with family stories and "wee" bits of Kiwiana. I learned recipes for slices (think brownies not pizza), scones (say it like "john" not "own") and Banoffee Pie (Dear Lord Almighty) and even, in an awkward moment of confusion, learned my very favorite kiwi word: "Knackered" (it means 'tired' but when said correctly, sounds more like 'naked'). I left the Christchurch airport less than 12 hours before the earthquake- everyone was alright.
The Macfarlane's oldest son, Tom has taken it upon himself to make sure I see a thing or two. As part of my "South Island Adventure" I stayed with him and his coffee-drinking character of a tractor-driving flatmate, Brak, at Raincliff Station; the bull beef, sheep and deer farm where they work. There certainly is something remote about being in the middle of nowhere on an island that is in the middle of nowhere. I felt virtually useless (especially compared to the dogs) but Thomas had a bit of a "throw-the-city-girl-in-there-she'll-have-to-get-it-eventually" approach that made my truck driving, mustering, calf rearing and even gate-opening good fun at the very least. Every night we ate food that Tom had killed and even got out for a bit of off-roading into Tahr (just say "Ta" or, really, just say "goat") country at Lake Tekapo which was divinely surreal. Maybe it was being in a place deserving of the name Godly Valley (with Paradise Ducks, may I add), or maybe one too many Speights on an old couch the wool shed or maybe it was just hangin' 'round someone for the first time since my accident who didn't need an explanation of what that experience is like, but that was refreshing. Still, all preconceived notions I once had about the ruggedly handsome, rough and tumble men-of-all men Kiwi male were thrown out of the window of a big (for NZ) pickup (say "ute") this weekend somewhere along highway 2 after a whole-hearted yet sub-par rendition of Taylor Swift's "Romeo and Juliet" by Tom and his friends Nigel and James.
My least favorite translation from US to NZ is the one that turned my "Finals Week" into an "Exam Month". One down and two to go, I am ready to finish my first semester of graduate school. That's right, this "fun size" Clark is growing up... I might not be gettin' married and makin' babies but I do listen to my my MSU football games drinking instant coffee instead of cheap vodka (GO GREEN! 8-0, baby!) and for some of us that is a big change. At the same time, it's the things that haven't changed that have so quickly made this country my new home. I will always be a loyal patron of any cinema's cheap-o movie night, adore spending hours in a kitchen with good friends and new recipes, going out with girlfriends for Thai food to laugh until noodles come out my nose and going to sleep wrapped up in a quilt my mama made me. I adore New Zealand and am passionate about the research I am doing and though ultimately, I am not sure I can sit still long enough to have a future in academia I sure as hell am happy I am coming back here in the fall. After all, you just haven't lived until you've stuck money to a dancing Samoan virgin....and this year I missed my chance.
Hope all is well at home wherever home may be.
Alexandra
P.S. Yes, Daddy, I know that Kermit the frog says "Time's fun when you're having flies."
