here are a few of my favorite

New Zealand things. Apart from mountains of course, and sheep! and my beautiful friend Catherine.

There are hot water dispensers! 

Just like in China, where every home, every hotel and petrol station, and every workplace provides hot water for drinking, New Zealanders love their hot drinks.

This is teacher's lounge in Catherine's workplace. She's making a cup of tea. Waiting in the lounge for Catherine, I was invited to have a cup of tea by teachers that I hadn't met. I was offered a cup of tea in every house that I visited. A "cuppa" . . . anything really. They show you the pile of choices. Teas, Milo, Coffee. This is part of the reason that for Justin and I, New Zealand, like Australia, feels very British. Much more so than Canada, Justin assures me.

Also, coffee in Australia and New Zealand is rarely drip. It's either espresso based (an Americano is a "short black" while a "flat white" is like a latte. If you want skim milk you ask for a "skinny") if you're out. At home, it's either instant or French press (plunger in New Zealand). Yeah, hot water!

Catherine's flat mate Cynthia has a cat named Ivan. He's the kind of cat that manages both independence and affection without compromising either. He follows Cynthia outside when she goes to garden. He wiggles belly-up in your arms. He disappears for long periods of time on his own adventures.

But as soon as I entered the house for the first time, and every time after, he ran to nose at my knee and demand attention. He slept on the foot of my bed. I loved him.

I was also impressed with his little cat-sized door. Justin claims that North America has them too. I'll believe it when I see it.

Every house also seemed to have these spinning square clotheslines. I'm sure they exist in North America, but not like this. They have lots of sun, so they mostly don't have dryers. A lot of the houses I was in also did not overheat . . . so we wore sweaters inside. I loved it. And the most genius thing of all . . .

the bathroom's heated towel rack. I could live in this country.

scotland for a day

We borrowed the smaller of the McKinlay cars and drove out onto the peninsula. At Catherine's suggestion we took the tiny winding coastal road out and a tiny winding high road (through steep hills with stone fences which, in Catherine's words, is “the closest thing to Scottish highlands outside of Scotland”) back. It was beautiful. I enjoyed driving the little car - my first experience of a manual transmission on the left - and pulled off the road at every patch of gravel I saw so we could take pictures in the wind.

We drove to visit a little ceramics shop that Jen wanted to visit. I had no idea how much I liked ceramics. I cursed baggage weight limits (only 20 kg on the Sydney-Guangzhou leg of my journey) and bought a little apron instead of the plates and pitchers and salt and pepper shakers and tea sets I wanted to buy. I can't wait to have a place of my own to fill with things!

we did not go white water rafting

At the last minute, Justin and I decided not to go on to Queenstown, the hub of tourism in the South Island. We did not go kayaking. We did not go bungee jumping. We didn't even hike to a glacier. We did see a lot of sheep. We did have “hokey pokey” - the icecream flavor that seems to be a national favorite. We did wind through a lot of small towns and villages.

We spent our last two New Zealand days (very happily) in Dunedin, at the McKinlay house with its mismatched gift-hangings evidence of their family's love spread over oceans and races.

Primary-school Catherine didn't understand what her friends' parents meant when they talked about the Asian Invasion. She was excited about the new classmates who would become her friends.

We experienced well the hospitality they've practiced 'til it's part of their family culture.

Come in, it's soooo good to see you again. Would you like a cup of something hot? Biscuits? Where are you staying tonight? (We thought we'd just find a hotel downtown somewhere). Well, why don't you just stay here? We've got plenty of beds. I'll just go make up the beds now. (And when I did go to bed later, a sign on my pillow that read, “Welcome Holly. We're glad you're here.”)

look how pretty

All the serious trampers wear waterproof boots. Catherine and I do it in tennis shoes. Here's the footwear lined up outside the hut.

We are somewhat refreshed in the morning at the Iris Burn Hut, ready for our third day of tramping. 

Justin and I do the extra jaunt into the forest to see the waterfall.

The ferns were literally blanketing the forest floor, and huge. I love how they curl into this nautilus shape. We never saw a silver fern, which is the official symbol for the All Blacks. 

The last hut looked out over this lake. Some of our fellow trampers made a bonfire and we swatted sand flies into the night, enjoying each others' stories.

the second day is always harder

On the second day, there is snow . . .

. . . and gorgeous landscapes sweeping away from us.

The path follows the ridge for hours.

We try not to fall into metaphors about “the path” or “the journey.”

There is lunch on the top of the world.

and Keas, the cheeky birds of the high places.

I attempt handstands somewhere high.

And eventually we descend into this temperate rainforest, and keep descending . . . and descending . . . and descending. At a low point, we thought we'd missed the turnoff for the cabin, we'd been at it so long. It was our least favorite part of the climb. That night we slept well.

on the Kepler Track!

Our first day on the Kepler.

My intrepid climbing companions Catherine and Justin.

The weather is perfect. We take our time. We arrive at the cabin in the golden light of the hours before sunset.

my kind of time

With Catherine, travel has been rich in time. We sleep until we wake up. We stop for the coffees I need, and to visit the aunties and friends of hers we're passing by. Both of us struggle in other parts of our lives with feeling slow and disorganized. Together, it's relaxing to be ourselves, to go about the day without worrying about efficiency.

Church of the Good Shepherd on Lake Tepako

When I flew into Christchurch, Catherine picked me up at the airport and we made our way slowly through the center of the South Island and around to Dunedin on the Southern part of the East Coast. We covered a total of perhaps 600 kilometers. It took us three days. I made this list of why it was so good.

we accepted hospitality 

we changed our plans

we made space for food

we did not overeat

we let time get away from us

we talked with strangers

we stopped the car to take walks

 This morning we finished our packing for the hike and, on our way out of town, dropped off Cynthia's cat Ivan at the cattery as a favor to Cynthia (Catherine's flatmate) who was leaving for the weekend before the cattery opened at nine. She mentioned that we should be there before 10:30, but not being time-oriented people, we forgot. We showed up around 11:30. We pulled up the gravel lane into a circular drive with a large house to the right, a long shed (which we assumed was the cattery) in front of us up a little hill, and an open larger shed to the left. Three small dogs flew from the house and bounced alongside the car, barking furiously. A strange welcome to a cattery, we remarked. We were in fine spirits, as the day was beautiful, and we were off on a drive to the mountains. Just the cat to drop off and we'd be on our way. But we weren't quite sure what to do. There were no signs, and no one but the dogs about. Catherine tried pulling up the little lane that led to the long shed, but stopped just in front of it when she realized that it was not wide enough for a car.

Then suddenly a woman came from the house, screaming obscenities at us. She hadn't lost a bit of her fury or indignation when she'd rounded up the dogs and marched over to our car. By this time we'd gotten out of the car and were waiting awkwardly with the cat.

Our humility-filled apologies did nothing to dissuade her anger. “I have to lay some ground rules! Those are the hours and people have to respect them! And then coming in here and trying to drive over my footbridge! I have to lay some ground rules!” She repeated these key points (we were dumbfounded and silent) over and over as she took Ivan and then marched him up the hill, ignoring us completely. We stood awkwardly for another minute, not sure if we were done, before climbing in the car and driving away. We were both a bit shaken, but for me disdain weighed stronger. Some businesswoman. We figured there must have been previous incidents that had built to a breaking point for this poor woman. We shook our heads, reminded ourselves we'd never see her again, and drove on.

preparation day

We leave in the morning for Te Anau, where the Kepler Track begins. We'll be hiking Sunday to Wednesday, carrying all our stuff. I will "blog" in my notebook until we get out to internet again next week.

My last day in Dunedin was full. I visited the art gallery, witnessed a parade of primary kids learning about traffic safety which was led by a Scottish marching band, met Catherine's students, had lunch in the botanical garden cafe with Catherine and friends, did tons of food prep for our tramp, helped Catherine's flatmate carry a wardrobe upstairs, hiked at Tunnel Beach, and visited one last time with Catherine's parents. I would post pictures, but I'm fighting with the automatic password generating software I've recently installed. Can't get to my pictures.

Anyway, here are some of the things I've learned today.

1. The "fanbake" setting in a New Zealand oven (is that like convection in terms I'm familiar with?) cooks way faster than the regular "bake" (or the time given on the recipe, for that matter).

Granola bars for the hike are a bit dark, but still tasty.

2. When the Salvation Army thrift store volunteer is clearly over seventy, hair in a tight white perm, lips creased inward from years of sternness . . .  maybe suggesting as a solution to the many-shoppers-one-changing-room problem, "Hey, I'm not shy. Any place back in the back where I could try these on?" not the best approach.

I still had to wait for the woman ahead of me to try on her gazillion items of clothing . . . while growing surer by the minute that volunteer lady, who I had to brush past, apologizing, every two minutes in the ridiculously cramped shop, thought I was a complete skank.

3. The regular supermarket does not sell dehydrated mushrooms. The Asian supermarket just across the street does. They both sell lots of cheap ramen packets.

4. Choosing a sharp curve halfway up the hill home to set down heavy shopping bags and shake out aching arms might convince some sucker to stop and give you a lift home!

It was not as calculated as it sounded. She was very nice. Her car was filled with bales of hay. Literally filled. She lifted her bags off the seat so I could get in with mine, then put her bags on my lap and drove me home. I was very grateful. My arms hurt.

when women sit together praying

I was a bit reticent about attending a women's Bible study. I don't actually read the Bible, or pray much . . . and it's been years and years since I've thought of myself as a Christian.

Not that it's hard to do the motions. They're familiar and easy enough. But, really, I feel bad pretending participation while secretly making observations and judgments at nice emotional distance. That's what I usually end up doing. So I wondered if maybe I shouldn't go.

But Catherine kept talking about her Wednesday morning group. She does not take for granted the chance to share deeply in the lives of women close to her age. This is one of the things in her life she's most excited about. I wanted to meet these women. I decided to go.

They were amazing! The host was this brilliant and bold mother all dressed in purples and lipstick, and nose ring. She was steady and funny and very much herself, it felt, but also let us know that she was lacking in sleep, and not able to do much more these days than take care of her family.

Another mom with a gravelly voice, hard laughter, and less-polished language gave me the impression that she knew how to party. She and I made faces when Paul warned people of the light should remain awake and sober for Jesus' coming.

The woman who led the study part of the bible study was all business and let's get this started but with a gentle edge, and you could see she loved herself, and quietly loved as well.

An ex-journalist really seemed to empathize with my crises of confidence and transition. She said to me, "you have to learn the art of contentment", which I've always thought I knew. I began to think again. Maybe I could use a bit more peace.

There were others, all strikingly different in personality . . . and they all touched me a bit. I didn't pull back the way I thought I might. I engaged, and enjoyed them.

As I listened to them talk through the big (and little) issues and decisions of their lives, I realized that I could also use a return to prayer in my life. I could use some women like this, who are making space to listen for God/Wisdom/Universe/Our Own Souls to speak.  Who are holding life gently, understanding that it's not really ours, but something we move through. Loving the people we have the chance to love. Encouraging and engaging.

thirty days to thirty

While many of my students in China wished they could be eighteen again, I've always felt happy to be as old as I happen to be. I'm grateful for the years and experiences that have twisted and taught me until I can hardly believe the changes. And I would not trade any of it for fewer wrinkles and gray hairs. I like my wrinkles and gray hairs.

So here I am at 29 with thirty days to thirty and counting. And I want to DO something. Something to mark the occasion. Something to remind myself that life is there for the taking. Something to make me little more like this baker-blogger. Except maybe not quite so ambitious as thirty different things. Just thirty of one should do me fine. For thirty days.

So . . . thirty days of what? Should I give hugs to strangers? Write emails to old friends? Learn new songs on the guitar? Give away cupcakes? Study new Chinese idioms? Yes, yes, and yes.

And write blogs. One a day, for thirty days. With the vague theme of "things I've learned" - today, last week, last year, in the last almost-thirty years. It's a broad theme. I sometimes have trouble with narrowing. But I'll try not to dwell much on the things I have trouble with (I spend enough time doing that already). Instead, I want to write about what inspires me, what excites me, what has challenged me to become better and different and still curious.

Like today, for starters. Catherine my beautiful New Zealand host went to work and I went to the Otago Museum. Otago is the name of the southern region of the South Island, where she lives. At the museum I learned things about cultures of Polynesia. There are 700 languages spoken in Papua New Guinea. The tatooist held an important place in the feudal hierarchies in Hawaii and Tonga. In the Santa Cruz islands, tumeric was believed to have supernatural properties. Yams were treated like currency on another island, and all Polynesians, it seems, ate breadfruit, a fruit that tastes something like bread?

I learned about Sir Edmund Hilary, the first person to climb Mt. Everest. Even though he was born and schooled in Auckland (in the North Island), the Otago Museum claimed the former beekeeper as a New Zealander. I learned that not only did he get to the roof of the world first (thanks to a mixture of ambition, planning, and talent, and lots of sugared lemon drink for hydration), but he went on to do a whole of lot of humanitarian (and diplomatic) work in Nepal and India. He continued on to ten more Himalayan summits, an expedition to the South Pole, a jet boat trip the length of the Ganges . . . all the while seeking approval of local Buddhist leaders when adventuring in their land. According to the exhibit, he was well-known and respected by the Sherpa people, and he returned each year to continue his work there with the Himalayan Trust for fifty years, until he was 86.

I hope I may have a tiny bit of his dedication. And sense of adventure.

kunming park pics

We took these pictures in a park in Kunming, where there was a nice big lake, lots of seagulls, and SUNSHINE! It was so good to meet old friends Catherine and Dan (and Sarah earlier in the day). The rest of the group was off somewhere watching Claire and Kate riding rollercoasters (waving, I hope, each time they came around.)