Rotorua

Adam loves this apartment. Who wouldn’t though right, we moved half way across the world to this tiny little town neither of us had heard of. All we had were the bags on our backs, ha! If, somewhere down the track either of us try to convince any of you that we even pretended to “backpack” around New Zealand, slap us silly. (Especially not for the first 2 months). We bought a car! Can you hear how proud I am? We bought a car, my very first car, seeing as though I don’t drive, it’s pretty impressive that I’m part owner of our beautiful little bad boy! We call him/ her, we call it The Eagle! It’s almost vintage. 1988 Nissan Bluebird. We got Eagle from bird, simple, clever, amazing. The story of the car can be saved from another day, not a rainy day, we haven’t had rain, we haven’t even had clouds here for weeks. It’s like the happiest place on earth. Except for the fact that it’s not. It’s as if no one here appreciates how lucky they have it. There are buildings left empty, for lease written on every second shop window. What does that mean? There are plenty of people here to work, does it take a lot to set up a shop? Maybe it does when you apply for job after job after job and nothing. There are a lot more people look for work, than people hiring. That certainly lowers ones self esteem. This place, this town, this city is the hub for all tourism in New Zealand. Tutenaki street is the main shopping street (over statement). In the 5 blocks between work and home I must pass 5 souvenir shops. Postcards, tacky fridge magnets, hats, t-shirts. Bleugh, coffee shop, tourist, tourist, tourist. There is a town in Northern Ireland, up near Derry (not Londonderry), that used to manufacture “Fruit of the Loom” T-shirts. The factory employed people from all over, until it was closed and shipped overseas, and everyone lost their jobs. I don’t know if Rotorua has a similar history, but this town needs something other than tourists. Come to Rotorua, go zorbing, jump out of a plane, see geysers. My favourite thing to do in this town is go out for drinks with Adam. We could do that anywhere. What do the locals do? I have no idea. Work hard, and get paid diddly squat. By the way, a geyser is, as I understand it, a mini volcano, no, that can’t be right, they erupt every now and again, and sprays hot water. Zorbing is rolling down a hill inside a huge bubble, how people don’t die, I have no idea.

This is boring.

Adam loves this apartment. It is so convenient. We moved countries, with nothing except the bags on our backs, not backpacking. We had nothing home like. The apartment came with a bed, chairs and a table, a couch, tv, dvd player, washer, dryer. Very convenient. I love this apartment too. I just wish we could stay in it long enough to hang some photos, long enough to spill something on the carpet. We live right in the centre of town. From sitting on the couch to standing in the town square takes about 2 minutes. We pay less for this than we were paying to stay at the old backpackers hostel next to the hotel we work at. Sadly, after only 3 weeks of living here, we are giving our notice to vacate, we will be leaving in 2 weeks. What will our next place be like? Well for a few nights it will be the tent, can’t really hang photos in there.

Yesterday we drove about an hour north to get the beach. Mt Manganui, is beautiful, despite being a little too full of tourists. If I were still living in Melbourne, and we drove out to Rye beach or Sorrento, I wouldn’t classify myself as a tourist. So, what’s the difference, driving the same distance to the beach here, I felt like a tourist. But driving back into Rotorua I felt like we were coming home. It’s weird though right, yesterday I felt like we were coming home, today I decided it was time to move on. I don’t want to become one of those people who never hang photos, never stay anywhere long enough to hang photos. Adam calls it “getting itchy feet” it’s cute, and he’s right.

Untitled.

It’s been 7, maybe 8 months since my last confession.

3 or 4 years ago, I could write a paragraph to sum up a year of my life. Now, now there is so much to tell, if I skip a week, sometimes even a day, it is arduous to continue writing. I don’t know my last post. Was it about Cape Coast, or when I wrote about the jewellery I wear? Whatever I wrote, I can be sure I haven’t attempted a new post since my time in Ghana. Is my life still interesting enough for you to read about it? I’m no longer in a place you may have never been, may never go, in an unfamiliar place. I’ve spent the best part of last year in a place you probably know quite well, “civilisation” “the west.” Europe and Australia for the most part, and now New Zealand, although I didn’t stay anywhere as long as I was in Ghana.

People have asked me all kinds of questions about Ghana, what was it like? What did I do there? why did I go/ why did I choose Ghana? I rarely get asked, why Scotland? Why France? Or what Germany was like? I left Ghana rather suddenly, with the intention of going back later in the year. A good friend of mine there, Sarah, was planning to leave about a month before my scheduled date of departure (mine around the middle of June, hers mid-May). Sarah is from California but had been living in Norway for the past 4 years, and had planned to head back to Norway via Turkey and Amsterdam, I hadn’t been to either of these places and was beginning to get the feeling enough was enough in Ghana, it was almost time to leave. She booked a one way flight out, for the 19^th of May, I booked a flight for May 21^st, with the return being mid-November.  At the time I had the full intention of using the return flight (obviously).

I’ve been to so many different places, all over the world, in so many different circumstances, work, study, travel, with friends, with family, and in relationships, but this was the first time I had ever truly felt- “it’s time to get out of here!!”. I remember I wrote a post in March, April last year about seeing car accidents, seeing dead bodies for the first time and being in the car with well frankly shit drivers and really risky situations. But I don’t remember writing about the time we were in an accident, it’s still in my mind like it was yesterday, we were in a taxi, 6 of us’ Sarah and the driver in the front, Peter, Adele and I in the back, with Laura on my lap. It happened very quickly, we were speeding, the driver in the lane next to us didn’t check his mirrors or look at all, and changed lanes right in front of us, he wasn’t going very fast, 10km p/h maybe, but we must have been going at last 100. We found out later he was drunk. It all happened in about a second, but it must have taken an hour in my mind. It was awful and it changed my whole opinion of Ghana. I no longer felt safe, invincible. I should mention none of us were wearing seatbelts. None of us cared. I’d been there more than 3 months by that stage, with not a single issue. After that though, man I feel sorry for Freddie and Sarah having to distract me on our way to Cape Coast, it was after dark and we were over taking like there was no tomorrow, flying down the 2 lane high way. Thanks Guys, I will never forget that either. I guess it just got to the stage though, where I realised enough was enough.

I met Sarah in Istanbul on the 21^st, or the 22^nd I don’t remember. It was an overnight flight so it must have been the 22^nd. That was the most “normal” food I had ever eaten, everyone talks shit about plane food, but I recognised it. It was familiar. Yeah, yeah, we had fruit and meat and rice and eggs in Ghana, but it’s different, it was the first sandwich I had eaten, the first I had seen in almost half a year. Go without it and you’ll see what I mean. I got there so early, I woke her up, sorry about that J. We had breakie downstairs in the hostel and caught us on the past 48 hours.

Istanbul was amazing. There were paved roads, and it was familiar. I could tell guys who were harassing us on the street to piss off, whereas before Ghana I would ever have done that I would have just tried to walk away, ignore them (I have no idea, actually, just trying to picture myself 12 months ago). There was this one guy, god there were a few, one of them seemed to know all about Melbourne, we were on our way up to a temple, or a church, I do remember but I remember the guy, he knew suburbs of Melbourne and all kinds of things that were so familiar, but he would let up, so we told him to piss off, I think- it was May after all, a lot has happened, changed since then. We went into the [place of worship] and as Sarah and I weren’t dressed appropriately, we were all wrapped up in blue sheets, as a sign of respect. Maybe it was a Mosque.

Speaking of Mosques, I remember being in Morocco, Daklah in particular, hearing the call to prayer, absolutely stunning. James and I read warnings about the call to prayer in Muslim countries, to be careful, mindful of the specific times and to stay away from public gatherings and well, generally be in doors, off the streets. But in general our experience of it was just absolutely peaceful. When we were on the 30hr bus ride from Casablanca down the coast to Daklah, I don’t know what town we were in but we arrived just as the people were gathering, there were cars everywhere, people walking through the streets, and it was just so well not threatening. I wonder where the warnings come from, how they can be so general, I understand that the government departments need to cover their arses, and warn against all “unfamiliar settings” but Morocco, and well Ghana alike were two of the most peaceful places I have visited. [The problem with Ghana though was, if we were injured, I didn’t like the sound of the hospital care].

Back to Istanbul, if you ever get the chance to go, TRY THE MUSSELS!!! Men stand on street corners with carts selling them, 5 for 5 TL about $2 Australian. They have rice inside, and a squeeze of lemon on top, just spectacular. Before I went away in 2011, I was sure food would be the most important and memorable part of my trip, pasta in Italy, Guinness in Ireland, while I was away though, food didn’t really bother me, I ate local foods, “street food” and it didn’t occur to me how important the different foods were to my experience until I got back to Australia. As a kid, when I got back from school camp, mum would ask me how it was, and I would tell her what we had every night for dinner. Reflecting on my adventures, the food has had a massive influence on my memories and how I think of a place.  

While we were in Ghana, Sarah asked me what I thought Hamam was, I knew it was related to Turkey, but it could have been a food, a statue, a boat, an island for all I knew. In Istanbul, we went to a Hamam.  It’s a hot bath house. You lie on the stone, in a room with really high humidity, cool off with the cold water taps, and heat up again on the stone, spending 4 months in Ghana, this was bliss, I actually missed the heat, the humidity and the sweat, grose, I know but you get so used to it. After about half an hour in the baths, I got a full body scrub. I was apprehensive, I’ve never had a massage, and I have extremely ticklish feet, so I didn’t want to be uncomfortable, plus, how naked do you have to be for this? It was AMAZING! 4 months of dirt and sweat and bucket showers and the beach, and well 4 months of Ghana, having a full body scrub was just bliss. I thought she was using some kind of black soap on me, but it was my skin peeling off, all that beautiful tan (and dirt) coming away. It was one of the best things I have ever done.