Cowaramup

I thought the names in New Zealand were weird until I came to Australia.  Cowaramup, Wilyabrup, Marangaroo, Yallingup, Metricup, Gnarawary to name a few weird ones I’ve encountered.  Wilyabrup is where Woodlands is located, and down the road a ways in Cowaramup, where I will be living.  Eventually I will be living here:

This amazing rammed earth cottage out in the middle of about 200 acres of land, apparently with sheep during some parts of the year, particularly lambing season, which I am already excited about even though it is months away.   I will be living here with Kirsten, the cellar door manager from Florida, after her current roommates move out later this month.  I was invited to the house for a little gathering of Kirsten’s neighbors and friends and the neighbors’ friends, who came down for the weekend from Perth.  A couple of them are from Tauranga, New Zealand, where I was last year for about 3 months… small world. 

This next section is not for the faint of heart.  You were warned.  Kirsten and her boyfriend have quite a few chickens, and decided to reduce their stock that night so they invited over the owner of the property to help with this.  A couple little boys were there playing with the chickens and got to select the victims.  Some of the gatherers participated in various parts of the process and the others watched as they were hung from a tree by their feet, their heads were held to stretch the necks out, and they were decapitated.  We’ve all heard the phrase “running around like a chicken with its head cut off;” this is no joke.  For about a full minute after losing their heads, the chickens fluttered their wings and thrashed around from their dangling points on the tree.  After this calmed down they would still twitch every once in a while for the next few minutes.  After the chickens were fully limp, they were taken down, soaked in hot water for a minute to loosen the feathers, dunked in cool water so as not to be cooked, and they were plucked.  After all the feathers were gone and the meat was bare, they were gutted with a special process of cutting off the feet, cutting around where the tail was and pulling everything out of the middle, then tucking the wings in and putting the legs through slots made in the skin.  Right before our eyes they were transformed from fluffy, clucking, walking creatures to pieces of white raw meat as you would see in a grocery store… welcome to Australia!  

The rest of the evening was fun as we sampled some wines, socialized, played table tennis, and ate the product of their hard work.

I got back to Andrew’s cottage, where I’m staying for a night or two, and he asked if the possum had bothered me at all.  I said, um, no, what possum, and he pointed to the ceiling in the kitchen, where a tail was hanging down through a small hole!  Then we noticed next to it was a tiny little tail, of the possum’s baby!  Again, welcome to Australia!

The name Cowaramup clearly has something to do with cows… I’m not sure how exactly the name came about, but cows are the general symbol of the town, particularly this statue in the middle of the park in town:

It is the product of a local artist in response to a controversial statue of a naked lady in a diving position on a similar platform that was ridiculed by about half the local public (the other half liked it).  That one was named as “Free as a bird” but was more commonly called “Chick on a stick,” so the cow was named “Free as a cow,” and is more commonly known as “Rump on a Stump” or “Roast on a Post.”

Perth

Perth is the most isolated capital city in the world.  It is a city not unlike other cities, but it is quite small.  Hostel reviews were discouraging, but luckily at the last minute Andrew, vineyard manager at Woodlands Winery, where I’ll be working the vintage this year, told me I could stay at his family’s house in South Perth as he would be up that week anyway for some business and other things.  So I was picked up from the airport and headed to a house in a nice part of town.  The house had internet so I continued my gumtree search for a cheap car.  From what I’ve witnessed and heard, there are many many cheap cars for sale, but they sell quickly so if you find a good deal you have to jump on it.  Andrew was actually looking for a cheap car for his girlfriend as well who had gone home to France for a few months and so sold her previous one.  I already had a meeting set up to try a car so I left the house and started to walk up the street, but en route I received a text from the owner saying she had just sold it… more evidence for the liquidity of cheap cars in the area.  I tested 2 Hyundai excels the next day and liked one of them.  I was pretty sure I would go for the first one because the price was reasonable and the car seemed to be in pretty good shape, but Andrew shot down that dream, saying Hyundais are no good and I should get a Japanese car like a Mitsubishi.  So back to the internet searching I went for a few days, finding potential vehicles, viewing and test driving a few, and I finally settled on this little Lancer, and am feeling pretty good about my purchase.  After all, red Mitsubishis have been good to me in the past J

I explored the city a bit that week, bought a shirt for $1, got a free burrito one day at a new little Mexican place that had just opened up, and after I got my car I headed East to see the Swan Valley, Western Australia’s oldest wine region.  It is cute with a few good wineries, breweries, chocolate factories, and a coffee company that also does tastings so it made for a very nice afternoon.  The drive back in traffic with no air conditioning in 100 degree weather wasn’t as fun, but I made it back and relaxed for the evening, ready to head down to the allegedly cooler Margaret River region the next morning.

Mudgee

After living in tiny rural New Zealand, Sydney Australia is quite an overwhelming shock of a city.  For one thing, as in most big cities, driving is stressful and frustrating, especially parking lots that charge $27 per hour.  But we had to see the opera house:

Beyond that, we found no reason to stick around so we headed north towards the Blue Mountains that held the promise of small country towns, free camping, and world class rock climbing.  Unfortunately, it was about 40 degrees Celsius and slightly humid, so it was basically unbearable to walk down the street more than a block or two.  We set up bank accounts, found a grocery store for a few basics, and then posted up in a coffee shop to use the internet and have a cold drink.  We set up camp and tried to stay cool while drifting off to sleep early.  In the morning we woke up to kangaroos in our campground!  We had seen signs warning about them on the road and heard horror stories of not being able to drive at night in Queensland due to the number of kangaroos jumping across the road all night, but this was the first time we had actually seen one.  They are so weird looking!  Large middles, huge feet, they sort of just lean forward to eat off the ground and they look as if they could topple over at any second.  Apparently I’ll get used to them, as the advice given to me from someone when I mentioned I was going to Western Australia was “look out for the kangaroos and the locals.”

After two mornings of climbing in the shade and splitting before the sun go too high and too hot, we headed up to Mudgee a cute little country town with apparently around 40 vineyards and wineries.

Luckily the house we were in had a pretty good cable set up so I was able to watch the 49ers beat the Falcons on their way to the super bowl.  Hopefully 2 Mondays from now at 7am I’ll be able to find a place broadcasting ESPN...

Mudgee is not such an exciting town… I pretty much know the entire “city” center, which I have walked around multiple times looking for something to occupy my time during the day while everyone is at work.  I have frequented the Mudgee Brewery for its free wifi, found a good coffee shop, taken a yoga class, gone for a jog, and that’s about all there is to do around Mudgee if you’re not wine tasting.

After a week in Mudgee trying to occupy my time and not melt, on Saturday night I had an energy drink and took to the road, headed back to Sydney to return the rental car and fly west.  I drove slowly because apparently kangaroos are worst at night, and also because there were thunderstorms and the rain made it hard to see very well.  I got to the city early so I pulled off for a quick nap before entering the airport vicinity, and then slept intermittently on what was one of the most uncomfortable planes I have experienced.  I’m looking forward to seeing Western Australia and especially Margaret River, which I keep hearing is beautiful with nice wineries… good thing I was able to fly half way across the planet to find such a place…

Mount Maunganui

To all (2) of my faithful blog followers, I apologize for the long pause in posts, but here is a little update on the past few months:

After returning from Tonga, our first priority was to find work and replenish the funds a bit.  Ok our actual first priority was a hot shower, but our second priority was a job.  We retrieved our cars in Hawke’s Bay where our lovely hosts Matt and Regan let us stay for a couple nights so we could organize a bit, shower of course, and figure out where to head from there.  Also, much to my delight, their family had grown since we had been gone and we came home to 2 tiny black lambs that had been rejected by their mothers in the cold stormy weather they had had in our absence.  Matt and Regan had nursed them back to health in their home, set up a bed for them by the fireplace, and Matt had taken them to work with him all week for their afternoon feeding.  I got to feed one of them at night:

Regan’s sister had a crazy European friend Ned who had just opened an Italian restaurant in Mount Maunganui, on the north coast of the island, and who was looking for wait staff.  Both having experience in this area, we headed up north to meet Ned, confident we could secure positions here.  Unfortunately, Ned wanted a 6 month commitment to the job to last him through the NZ summer, and we just couldn’t do that, what with my plans to return to the states for Natalie’s wedding, and plans to be in Australia in January for harvest.  So we looked around town a bit but it didn’t look promising so we headed south to Rotorua, where we heard there were more jobs.  We did not find more jobs there and after a week of camping by a beautiful lake:

and job searching during the day, we went back to “the Mount.”  We eventually realized that in order to get any job we would have to let on that we would be there through summer, so we let a few places believe that and landed jobs in Tauranga, the neighboring town.  We lived in the Mount so as to be near the beach, and kept a car to get to work.  Tres worked in a sporting gear store not unlike REI, and I worked at a Mexican restaurant (Tres also worked there weekend nights).  Working at a Mexican restaurant in New Zealand is an interesting experience coming from California.  For one, I could never get a job at such a place in CA because, well, why would they hire an American?  But in NZ, there was only 1 Mexican, probably in the whole North Island, and he worked in the kitchen.  I was asked multiple times if I was Mexican, and had to admit that no, I wasn’t, but I was probably the closest they would get being from Ca.  I also got endless questions about the menu, eg what’s the difference between a burrito and a quesadilla, what is a burrito, can I have a quesadilla without cheese, etc. 

Working about 20 hours a week enabled me to live a pretty great life during the time until I returned home to the states in October.  I went to my college friend’s wedding in Virginia which was lovely, visited my new second cousin in Chicago, went to New York for Thanksgiving to see more family, had a white xmas in Mt. Shasta,

and hung out in California for a while catching up with friends, hanging out at home, applying for jobs in Australia, relaxing, etc.  But that isn’t what this blog is about so I will leave it at that.

I returned to Mount Maunganui in time for a New Year’s Eve barbeque (heart of summer in NZ), a journey into town which was crazy with partying kids, a short walk to the beach to see fire works, and a moonlit stroll home through the sand with friends.  Great way to start the new year.  I hung out there for the next couple weeks, enjoying the sunshine on the beach, catching up with friends from the restaurant and elsewhere, and camping up in the Coromandel, where supposedly the most beautiful beach in New Zealand sits just a short hike away from the campground:

We concluded our stay in NZ with an all day and night company party at lake Rotoiti involving wake boarding, hanging out on the wake boarding boat, tubing, BBQing, and socializing with coworkers, caught a ride up to Auckland to see the Red Hot Chili Peppers (why not, they were playing the night before we flew out?!!).  They were amazing, of course.  Then we flew across the ditch to Sydney…

Tonga - Part 2

 After all of the back and forth about when the ferry would arrive in Ha’apai and take off for Vava’u, it ended up coming on Wednesday night, the original prediction.  We boarded around 10pm and got comfortable in between rows of chairs for the 8 hour ferry ride north to the island group of Vava’u, where Sean and a few other peace corps volunteers live.  Chaos greeted us in the morning as we de-boarded in Neiafu, the main city on Vava’u, but Sean navigated through it and found the truck belonging to the school where he works, and we climbed in the long bed of it along with some sort of band and all of their instruments and other equipment, which took too long according to I think all of us since the bathrooms on the boat were gross and we all had to pee.  We got a ride up the hill and dropped off the band (and helped unload all of their items), then continued on to Sean’s school and his adorable house:

It has two rooms, each about 10 square feet, and a little shelter out back where there’s a shower and toilet (picture above).  We had to keep the curtains in the bedroom closed because otherwise you could look out and see directly to the toilet, which is about 3 feet from the window and doesn’t have a door to complete its enclosure.  We drank rain water from the tank next door, which collects from what runs off of the roof, and were actually mostly happy with the cold showers since it was so hot during the day.  The locals apparently disagreed with our assessment of the weather, as we frequently saw them huddling in sweatshirts and jackets while we were sweating in shorts and t-shirts – they were fully convinced it was winter.  For us it took wondering out loud whether Sean’s tree in the front of his house was dead since it had no leaves on it, but he informed us he had worried the same thing last year and asked his neighbors, who reminded him that July is the heart of winter and therefore it made sense that his tree had lost its leaves in the chilly 85 degree weather.

The first weekend on Vava’u we were invited to a party on another island, on which an American couple lives and are building a house and restaurant.  We had the option of taking a 20 min ride on a little boat for $20 or sailing with “Captain Radical” on his catamaran for a leisurely 5 hour trip over beautiful blue water through so many lush green islands for free… guess which one we chose:

The 2.5 acre destination island has a pretty amazing set up, with hammocks scattered here and there, a fale where they sleep on one side, the skeleton of a tree house with a spiral staircase on another, a kitchen structure at another, and a restaurant roof on another (everything is still in progress).  The American couple that leases the island (bottom picture below) are building the restaurant and house parts to have planted concrete roofs so that from afar you can’t tell that there is anything but nature on the island.  The party included a pot luck dinner, a DJ and lots of dancing, sleeping in tents, then making a big breakfast for everyone who stayed long enough the next day and drinking the contents of whatever coconuts we could find opened by the guys playing with machetes, all with intermittent games such as corn hole, darts, water games, and a battle hip tournament (a last-man-standing game played by standing in a big circle and hitting a rubber ball-type thing hanging from a tree with only your hips, eliminating people as they get hit with the ball unintentionally), of which I somehow became the international champion.

The remaining 3 or so weeks of our stay in Tonga were less eventful as we really got down to the nature of our trip and reeeeelaxed… but there were still some highlights.  We played trivia at Tonga Bob’s, a local pub, each Thursday and were determined to win.  Sometimes we would have too many people show up for our team, since there were a bunch of Americans, a few Australians, and eventually some British people we were friends with, and then a couple of us would have to join another team.  We never came very close to our goal of ultimate victory (we suspect cheating was involved by at least one other table), except for Sean, who on last Thursday we were there joined a team of other expats and his team won.  I’m sure we still haven’t heard the end of that.  Another weekly occurrence at Tonga Bob’s is a Fakaleti show, which we attended once.  Fakaletis are Tongan men who dress as girls, so it was similar to many shows in San Francisco.  It is fun to take male friends there and watch the pretty men make eyes at them.  Apparently in Tongan families if there are too many boys and not enough girls to do the traditional female work, the youngest son will be dressed and treated like a girl, including being taught to perform cooking and cleaning and other tasks generally done by women.  Sometimes these boys change after they move out of their parents’ house and end up like traditional men with wives and fulfilling the male roles, but sometimes they continue to dress like women and maintain feminine qualities, both of which are perfectly acceptable.  We also went sailing again, this time with an old guy who later earned the nickname “Hammer Roy,” after we heard a story of him smashing a loud boat generator with a hammer.  We decided not to sail with Roy anymore, but it was a good day out in the sun on the water.  Other than that, we hung out at Sean’s, checked out a few of the local beaches and camped at one for a couple nights, hung out at the peace corps office, hiked up Mt. Talau (great views), and various other activities around Neiafu. 

At the end of the trip Tres and I returned to Nuku Alofa for our flight back to New Zealand.  We went a day early in case flight schedules were changed as they tend to do in Tonga (there are so few planes that Sean asked us which one we took, we said a little blue one, and he said “oh, the one you have to duck down in to get to your seats?” – yep, that was the one.  Luckily it wasn’t the one built during WW2 that is still in regular use today).  We encountered a typical end-of-trip conundrum in which you want to use as much of your currency you already have to not have to exchange it back, but you don’t want to have too little and have to pay to take more out (exchange and ATM fees are ridiculous).  We had about 90 Tongan dollars between the two of us, which we decided would cover the night at the guesthouse, rides to and from the airport, and meals for the last day.  We stopped at the store on the way to the guesthouse to get a few small items for dinner and breakfast and figured we could eat lunch in town the next day (Tongan BBQ meals are only $5).  When we went to pay for the night at the guesthouse, we realized we hadn’t factored into our budget the 15% sales tax they add on to your bill, so we ended up with only about $3.50 and 1/3 of a loaf of bread left for lunch/dinner the next day.  That meant our options were buying a cheap can of sauce and eating the noodles in the community food bin at the guesthouse (a typical thing at hostels and places like this), or buying eggs (60 cents each) and having eggs and toast.  However, as we were walking around in town, we came across a little Tongan flag exactly as Tres’ grandmother had requested, so we had to get it.  We were left with $2.50, ruling out the sauce for pasta.  I realized I wanted a souvenir as well and hadn’t bought any so far, so I decided on the cheapest one I could think of, a Tongan coin.  This reduced our potential egg purchases to 3.  We were about to go for it, but at the last second we saw samosas on the counter at the fale kaloa (little store) for $1 each so we got 2 of them instead.  We shared a half of one of them while we were playing scrabble waiting for the bus to take us back to the guesthouse, and rationed the remaining one and a half throughout the rest of the day.  Of course when we got back to New Zealand Tres realized he had another dollar in the pocket of a pair of pants – we could have had the pasta sauce!  That caused quite a laugh as we remembered how “faka ofa” we had been, if you know what I mean...