My first couchsurfing experience

22.10

I'm a bit late again with my writings but here's something I wrote two days ago.

My second morning here in the Playhouse Cafe started when the first beams of the sun woke me up. I took my coffee to the deck with me and now Cheeky, the owners black cat purrs next to my feet and plays with my jumpers sleeve. But before telling you more about this place, I have to go back a bit.

So I arrived in Picton couple of days ago, after a 3-hour-long ferry trip from Welly. The sea was beautiful, bright turquoise coloured and calm. When arriving to the terminal I waited anxiously for my back and kept an eye on my connecting bus, hoping it to wait there just for a little bit longer. Finally I saw my pack, the Little Big Planet character Sackboy hanging on the side, smiling to me. I rushed to the bus and found myself a place next to a window. The midday sun was shining bright hot and luckily the bus was pretty empty. Our first stop was at Blenheim and from there we continued our way to Nelson. My eyes were glued to the window the whole time, stunned by the view. Huge wine fields that continued as far as the eye can see, blue snowy hills forming a border far away in the horizon. We climbed up to a hill reaching 380 meters and then slowly started making our way back down. Huge pine trees and beautiful native bush surrounded us from every direction. Everything was just so green that I couldn't get my head around it. Shortly after the hills we arrived in Nelson. I texted my couchsurfing host and couple of minutes later he helped me to toss my stuff at the backseat of his car. The house was near to the centre, a shabby dark place on top of the small supplement store my host owned. The place is waiting to be renovated in couple of months so I guess that explains some of the wholes and broken pieces of wood here and there. Anyway, I'm not too fussy about things like that so I just tossed my stuff somewhere and went exploring the city of Nelson. Later in the evening I tried to keep up some kind of a conversation with my host, asking things and getting to know the guy better. But pretty soon I realised how little we have in common and there seemed to be only two things that he was interested in. His supplement store and weed. Both which kept him going everyday. Soon I also discovered that the sofa I was promised to have as a bed was occupied by the Malaysian flatmate who watched movies throughout the whole night. So I curled myself tightly in my sleeping bag and slept in the far end corner of the bed, hoping that my host was going to stay on his side. I did see a well-read Bible on the side of his bed so that kinda brought me comfort. And luckily I wasn't disturbed during the night.

The next morning I woke up before anybody else and packed some maps and water in my back. An apple as a breakfast and I was good to go. I climbed to a hill that is said to be the centre point of whole New Zealand and the view was pretty spectacular. From there I followed a small path into a forest and found a field buzzing with hundreds, maybe thousands of bees. I was in the middle of eating my second apple so I ran past that point, worried that the sweet scent would attract the busy honey-makers. After a while I found a Japanese garden by the seaside and huge parks full of soccer players. I slowly made my way back to the apartment and convinced the guys to go and explore some beaches with me. We drove to Rabbit Island where a lot of people were still enjoying the sun and having picnics. The tide was low and we found some starfishes drifted on to the sand. From there we made our way to the golden beach of Kaiteriteri and we sat there talking about the differences of men and women. I couldn't help but to laugh when the guys were asking me tips "how to impress a white woman". The flatmate and I collected some shells and I noticed that I can also use them as earrings, ha! The perks of having stretched ears. As the sun started to set behind the hills, the boys gave me a lift to my next destination, the Playhouse cafe in Tasman. I wished the boys better luck with women and made the flatmate promise that he will come to the next tattoo-fair in Helsinki (he's a tattoo-artist). And so here I am. I'll post another text about this place, with some photos too so you can have a better idea of the place. But if I'd have to discribe the place with one word, it would be "super-relaxed". Says it all.

Reporting from Nelson

I didn't have the chance to post this earlier, but here's something I wrote on Friday night.

Now that this long and busy day has turned into a night, I'm finally slowing down and starting to realise what's happening. It's already 2am but I can't seem to find my sleep. Today's been all about farewells and saying goodbyes, been trying to have that last talk with everybody, even if it's been a really quick one. Now when lying on my bed and everything around me has turned dark and quiet, I start to have that nasty little feeling inside me. It's the sadness, curled to a heavy little ball on my chest. I've always been bad with goodbyes and I remember this feeling well from my childhood. It was the time when me and my cousin used to visit each other really often and we would spend the weekends at each others homes. It didn't matter which one of us was catching the bus back home on Sunday evening, the goodbyes were never easy.

Yesterday evening I spent couple of hours in the kitchen, baking and decorating blueberry muffins to the people at the gym. I took them with me this morning and apparently I did a good job since an hour later they were already gone! I also surprised three of my favourite instructors with small notes, chocolate hearts and red roses. Just small things but with a lot of meaning, my way to show them my gratitude. A lot of people wished me a safe journey (no hitchhiking!) and I got more last minute travel tips. This super friendly guy called Ocean also gave me his dad's contact number in Christchurch so I will always have a cheap lift when in need. And how cool name is that, Ocean! As in, The Ocean!

Althought the feeling of sadness has been quietly shadowing me the whole day, today's focus has really been on having an amazing last day in Upper Hutt. During the day I met with a friend over some lunch and we talked and laughted almost for three hours. When we finally realised the time, Saskia was already in a rush to pick up her kids, and I also had to make my way home and start thinking about packing. Last set of dirty laundry, tidying my room and trying to figure out the way to fit everything in the back. Later in this evening Sabi came to pick me up and we met with our birthday-girl Lisa. Great talks and a lot of laughter over some delicious pizza and drinks. By the end of the night I received two beautiful bracelets and heart-warming cards, and of course there's an endless amount of memories I'll always carry with me.

But in the end the excitement and happiness are far more over-powering feelings than sadness and longing can ever be. Right from the beginning I knew that eventually I'm going to go and start my travelling around New Zealand. I've been blessed with the privilege of meeting all these wonderful people here in Upper Hutt, and I know I'm going to meet more amazing people during my travels. There's a reason why you meet certain people in life and I believe everything's connected. I am truly happy that this is the place where I stand in this part of my life, this is where I'm supposed to be. In less than 6 hours I'll be waving my goodbyes to my dear host-family, climb on the deck of the ferry and look at the sea.

"Now, bring me that horizon....na na na na...and really bad eggs! Drink up me hearties yoho!"

First stop, Picton!

The little things

This is also a perfect opportunity to test my writing skills in English so all you grammar-nazis out there, do your worst.

Sabrina and I arrived home late last Sunday night from our weekend trip and I was more than happy to hear that I have the next day off. It was a long drive but totally worth it. Napier is a fun city and I really liked the feeling of the place. Can't go wrong with a beach and the ocean. If I ever get the chance I'll definitely get a house by the sea, I mean who wouldn't? We spent the Saturday strolling around the city streets and looking for sights.

Napier, the Art Deco Capital

Beach on Sunday afternoon

 

And here's one thing we've both noticed about kiwi's. They can be pretty simple people when it comes to certain things. Or if I'd put it in a nicer way, I think that they simply know how to appreciate the small things. Napier's sights were a pretty good example of this. Sabi and I got a map from the city's i-site and there were four "Hidden Gems" marked on the map. We decided to check them out so we drove around the harbour searching one of them, called a "Custom's House". Eyes looking for a big impressive building, but we kept on driving past the mark on the map. We finally decided to park the car and that's when we saw this tiny old house. As we walked around it, we realised. This was it! The Customs House. A tiny, old building. It didn't caught my eye in any way and it was so well kept that I couldn't tell if it was built decades ago or last year. Was there something inside the house that made it special, "a gem"? Don't know, couldn't enter. How about the surroundings? A harbour, industrial area. And an iron pot in front of the house. Greeeeat. And all the rest of these "Hidden Gems" were pretty much in the same category. But I guess that's just how tourisms works, no matter how big or small, old or new, make it a sight and there will always be people looking for it.

Another example of kiwi simplicity took place later that day. We found out that an Indian Festival, a "Diwali" was being held by the waterfront and I was getting exited. "A festival of light!", said the bright-coloured posters all around the city. Expectations were high as we found ourselves a place in front of the stage. And what it ended up being, was a handful of people, few food-staples and clumsy dance-acts. "Thunderrrrous applause!" "We arrre rrrrocking Hawke's Bay, camoon everrrrybody! Let's shout Happy Diwali!", screamed the tiny guy to his microphone with his thick Indian accent. He didn't let the dead, quiet audience slow him down a bit, he just kept on shouting and making bad jokes. But it was so awful and awkward that it was already pretty awesome. I really think that this terrible host made the show for me. And ironically it was the last and the worst dance act that finally got the audience up and dancing. Four chubby brothers climbed on to the stage in colourful outfits, jumping and shaking all in their own rhythm. Massive turbans were bouncing on their heads and the crowd just went crazy! The brothers were asked to perform again and they did the exact same dance, probably the only one they knew.

But don't get me wrong here, there's nothing wrong about finding joy from the small things in life. Heck, you'll probably end up living a much happier life like that. But it's just been funny to notice here in NZ how easily they label things, making them sound a bit bigger and better. "Festivals" that are more like Sunday Markets. "Holiday Parks" which look like plain camping sites. Every teeny tiny track and trail has been marked as a walkaway or a hiking trail. And this is also something that is good to keep in mind when backpacking. Sabrina travelled around NZ last summer and she warned me not to stop on every sign saying "A Waterfall" or a "Glowworm cave" cause these things are absolutely everywhere. And sometimes a "waterfall" ended up being not more than a little stream pouring between rocks. Luckily I got her notes about great places to go and activities to do, in the end money and time is going to be limited.

On our way back home

 

In the same time I hope that I'd have a bit more of this this quality in me, that I too could find joy and happiness from the simplest things. Like kids do. Sometimes you just have high expectations about things, especially when travelling and living in a foreign country. You kinda wish that you'd get new and exiting experiences every day, that you'd always have something new to tell to the people back home. In those moments I have to remind myself about the small things in life, the things that never fail to make me smile. Like how the grass smells after the rain. A well-done cup of coffee. Starting a new book. When drawing and you finally get that one line the way you want it to go. How a strong hug feels. Life doesn't always have to be fireworks. The important part is how you decide to live it. About the attitude. I bet the Indian host knows what I'm talking about.

Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the most annoying of them all?

Suhteemme alkuhuuma on houkutellut minut heti takaisin, vaikkei minulla oikeastaan olisi aikaa tähän. Kolea huuruinen aamu on vasta näyttäytymässä, mutta meidän talossamme pauhaa 80-luku. Pojista nuorempi pomppii sohvalla ja vanhempi pitelee korviaan, tai no nyt tilanne on jo kääntynyt kinasteluun. Aiheena ärsyttävyys, taloutemme kuumin puheenaihe. Etenkin väsyneinä hetkinä se kaivetaan esille, ja aihetta puidaan pitkään ja hartaasti. Kumpi pojista on ärsyttävämpi, kumpi on useammin ärsyttävä, kumpi tekee enemmän ärsyttäviä asioita. Kinaaminen on jonkinlaista aidon kiukun ja pelleilyn häilyvää rajamaastoa, on mahdotonta sanoa milloin se päättyy itkuun ja koska karhunpoika-painiin. On minun vapaapäiväni joten en puutu peliin. Saattaisin sitäpaitsi lipsauttaa aidon mielipiteeni asiasta.

Pian minun ei kuitenkaan tarvitse enää toimia näiden tilanteiden erotuomarina, Au Pairin urani loppuu alle viikon päästä. Ja täksi viikonlopuksi olen myös järjestänyt menoa, hyppäämme salitreenin jälkeen ystäväni Sabrinan autoon ja suuntaamme Napieriin. Neljän tunnin ajomatka saa turruttaa viikosta väsyneet aivoni.

Kylmettyneet pikakahvin loput ja liian painava salikassi, upeaa viikonloppua!

It's always windy in Wellington

Ajatusten kiertäessä ympyrää jo ensimmäisen lauseen kohdalla sitä herää kysymys, miksi ylipäätään haluan aloittaa blogin? Ajatukseni blogeista ja bloggaajista eivät ole suoraan sanottuna olleet koskaan kovin positiiviset, miksi joku haluaa jakaa yksityiskohtia elämästään internetissä?

Epävarmuuteni bloggauksen suhteen liittyvät myös tekstieni laatuun. Mikä tekisi minun elämästäni lukemisen arvoista, onko minulla "sitä jotain"? Kestänkö kritiikin ja kommentit? Vielä pahempaa, mitä jos kukaan ei kommentoikkaan? Vai saanko koskaan edes mitään julkaisukelpoista aikaiseksi, olenko tuomittu käymään tekstejäni läpi yhä uudelleen ja uudelleen, aina vain tyytymättömänä sen rytmiin.

Mitä minä sitten oikein teen täällä? Koska haluan sen, mikä erottaa päiväkirjojen suljetut maailmat ja blogien avoimet ovet; yleisön. Pelätty ja kunnioitettu, tuttu ja tuntematon. Kannustava ja ylistävä, halveksiva ja kriittinen. Olen aina ollut ahkera kirjoittamaan ja päiväkirjoja on tullut täytettyä vuosien varrella useita kymmeniä. Tälläkin hetkellä vierelläni makaa punakylkinen, nahkainen muistikirja. Muistan kirjoittaneeni alle 10-vuotiaana leopardi-kuvioiseen, pehmeäkantiseen päiväkirjaani joka ikinen päivä. En siksi että minulla olisi ollut jotenkin tavallista vaiherikkaampi elämä, vaan yksinkertaisesti siksi että käsitin termin "päiväkirja" vähän turhan sanatarkasti.

Mutta päiväkirjat ovat henkilökohtaisia. Niiden kannet avataan unettomina aamuyön tunteina, surun, ilon ja vihan vallassa. Sivut täyttyvät kuin itsestään pitkillä junamatkoilla, mielen lentäessä pitkin sähkölinjoja. Kirjoittaminen on aina ollut minun tapani käsitellä asioita. Kun tukahduttavat ajatukset on siirretty paperille, olo on eufoorisen rauhallinen. Hetki sitten surettanut asia on kutistunut mitättömäksi, pala kurkusta kadonnut, kuumat kyyneleet silmien takana kuivuneet. Napsautan kuulakärkikynäni terän piiloon, painan kannet kiinni. Piiloon, salaisuudeksi. Ja tämä juuri on orastavan kirjoittajasielun kompastuskivi. Kukaan ei saa koskaan nähdä salaisuuksiani. Mutta nyt haluan tietää mitä mieltä olette.

Päiväkirjaani en kokonaan kuitenkaan hylkää, tarvitsen tunteideni suodattajan.

Nyt kun olen päässyt pahimman shokkini ohitse ja huomaan oikeasti aloittaneeni blogin, on varmaan asiallista palata perustietoihin. Tässä iPadini ruutua naputellessa kuuntelen kuinka yöllinen musta sade humisee ulkona ja kastelee pienen Uusi-Seelantilaisen lähiö-alueen katot ja pihakalusteet. Paikallinen isäntä-perheeni on ollut jo hyvän aikaa unten mailla ja poikien huoneista kuuluu kevyt hengitys. Siitä on päivälleen 6kk kun hyvästelin äitini ja veljeni Helsinki-Vantaan lentokentällä ja hyppäsin koneeseeni kohti Hong-Kongia. Hymytön Kiina vastaanotti minut 10h lentämisen jälkeen ja kiirehtien työnsi minut jatkolennolle Aucklandiin. Muistoksi jäi ilmeettömiä kasvoja ja mainostaulujen pandoja. Toiset 10h kuluivat unen ja valveillaolon rajamailla kunnes Uusi-Seelanti oli jalkojeni alla. Palmuja, aurinkoa, hymyileviä ihmisiä. Pyöreä ihana aksentti. Vielä yksi lennähdys taivaan poikki ja saavuin pääkaupunkiin, Wellingtoniin. Edessäni Suomen lippu ja siinä minun nimeni. Jännityksestä tärisevät lapsen kädet, poskisuudelma. Niin alkoi minun urani Au Pairina Uusi-Seelantilaisen perheen parissa.

Nyt ne kädet eivät enää tärise.
Ne halaavat ja ottavat kädestä kiinni.
Tarttuvat kynään ja ojentavat aina vain uusia taideteoksia muistoiksi.
Ettei Isosisko vaan koskaan unohtaisi.
Tärisevän neulan alla kävi Isosiskon käsi, ei sisko unohda.
Neula teki lehden, teki toisen.
Ison ja pienen.
Teki veljen, teki muiston.