When We Live in Awe

June 17, 2013
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A sunrise over the ocean. A star-filled sky over a campfire. A giggle from a fussy baby. A speech to one, or one million, that moves you to action. A hand holding yours through a trial. A tear-filled farewell to a loved one. A puppy chasing a ball across a polished wood floor. A majestic bird taking flight. The truth is, awe is everywhere.

In fact, awe is within you. It’s the feeling of wonder, the spirit of curiosity, the sense of hope and the remarkable inspiration that drives you to live this moment with passion. When we allow ourselves to fall into stagnancy, succumb to criticism and “settle” for less from our existence, we slip from awe to awful.

So, I took a quiet week away from blogging to really stand in awe of my surroundings, to be in awe of the people I meet and to see where awe lives within my spirit.

What I found is that I am in complete awe of nature. The unaltered beauty, the majesty of creation, the impact of time, the power of the elements and the way it plays with the light. Even a rocky terrain has awe carved into its very form.

Loch Ard Gorge on the Great Ocean Road

Loch Ard Gorge on the Great Ocean Road

I am in awe of people. Birth announcements, wedding anniversaries, overcoming depression, starting a new career, standing up for the underdog, opening a door, laughing from belly to crown and connecting with strangers. Individuals awe me constantly, with their unique talents and views.

Aboriginal portrait at National Gallery of Victoria

Aboriginal portrait at National Gallery of Victoria

I am in awe of birds. The chuckling song of a cocobarra, the zealous scavenging of a seagull, the flapping frenzy of a cockatoo, the dance of a fantail and the constant twitter of song from the trees. Few marvels equal the melodies and instinctual music of birds being birds.

Crimson Rosella in southern Australia

Crimson Rosella in southern Australia

I am in awe of the sun. From breathtaking sunrise to magnificent sunset, from cloud-strewn skies of lit gray to cloudless skies blazing bright, I soak up the warmth, I feel the kinship and I know the impact on all living things. I speak to this traveling friend in play and awe.

Facing sunrise

Facing sunrise

I find awe in every day; therefore, I hold unbridled hope for everyone and every thing. During my week of awe exploration, I even discovered awe in myself, including my buoyant maneuverability while snorkeling, the landscape of my creative musings, the joy of my company and the depth of my heart. Be in awe, friends. It’s liberating, humbling and a natural companion to hope.

Awe drawn in the sand

Conquering the Obligation Monster

June 10, 2013
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Have to, need to, must . . . for the rebellious hearts of the world (like me), those words ring with a sense of doom that may rival the journey to return the ring to Mordor. What? Sigh, my fellow LOTR fans got it.

My point is that the obligation monster exists. He’s a gnarly, whiny, dusty, troublesome fellow who likes to steal our sunshine and, surprisingly, we allow it. There is hope. The trick is to turn the tables on your perspective and determine clear boundaries for the expectations you set with others. Hope appreciates breathing room to flourish and, trust me, so does your sanity.

Certainly, being dependable, responsible, loyal and someone others can count on is outstanding. Nurture those qualities as you take care not to swing the pendulum too far in the apathetic direction. Simply be mindful if a pattern of, “I will enjoy life once this is done” or “I need to do x, y or z before I can relax” or “I will be able to breathe as soon as . . .” starts to surface. Now is all we have for certain, friends.

If, when and right after are phrases we use as crutches to keep from really prioritizing. They are hurdles to transforming what we feel we have to do into a privilege.

A privilege? Yes, I can feel you reeling from the thought of cleaning the house, finishing that report or catching up on tax paperwork as privileges. Not everything is rosy or laced with sugar bows; however, if you view your task or time as a monstrous obligation, you are far more likely to procrastinate, resent it, be moody, take it out on others or carry it as a burden throughout your day(s). Monster wins.

No, shake off the beast. Honestly, most of our woes and problems are first-world issues. What do I mean? Needing to clean out the garage, getting anxious over not having 4G wifi everywhere (guilty) or picking up after a pet in the yard . . . all “civilized” problems. Reframe it: you have a garage, which is likely attached to a house with a roof over your head and the necessities of life; you will survive without a text or email for an hour and might even, shocker, experience the world in 3D real life; and you have a pet who probably loves you and helps you de-stress, most days.

The obligation monster is no match for perspective. His kryptonite is also found in setting healthy boundaries with family, friends, work and your partner. Your computer needs to reboot once in a while and so do you. Always being a fix it, counsel it, and handle it gal or guy is likely based on noble intentions. Still, remember not to steal the lessons of others or take on so much that you are defined by everything but your inner voice.

Best advice: hopeful moderation + take a walk to clear your head. Whatever list, email or challenge that is waiting for you can take a momentary backseat to nature, a nice stroll and that deep breathe you actually do “need.”

I Spy With My Hopeful Eye

June 5, 2013
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Some of us wear glasses to see better. Others brighten a room or open a window. I find that I see best when I walk around, turn down the volume on my frenzied thoughts and really look at the details of life. In fact, that seems to be when my hopeful eye lands on the most interesting things.

So, instead of posting photos from all of the sights I took in yesterday, I want to describe some of them to you and determine if, perhaps, you can see them with the same hopeful eye.

  1. An older gentleman paused behind his wife mid-walkway in the zoo, fingers scratching her sweater gently, looking for the itch in the middle of her back, and smiling to himself as she shifted and chuckled at the elusiveness of it—I smiled to myself
  2. A dainty little girl with a spunky spirit, dressed in her school uniform amidst a sea of other children in similar garb, waiting (as patiently as she could) to see the rare bird show . . . when suddenly she reached her sit-still tolerance and hopped up right in front of me to shake her arms and body in a little dance to amuse her friends—it amused me too
  3. A female koala I was able to meet up close and personal as she delicately selected eucalyptus leaves from a branch, knowing by smell which ones were fresh (all of the leaves are poisonous though, at varying levels; koalas have simply adapted to a niche in nature that allows them to digest these leaves)—I was in awwww, then awe
  4. A mime dressed like Charlie Chaplin, dancing around a street lamp with a sign that said “feed the statue” and a spark of whimsical hijinks in his eye—the idea of a Brit, made famous by American movies, idolized here in jest by an Aussie had me spinning in playful thought
  5. The expansive Sydney shoreline, with ferries, taxies, ships, speedboats and tourists dotting the harbors and filling the air with a din of activity—I see something new and intriguing every minute
  6. A pair of young Japanese tourists who appeared to be on their honeymoon, with him pulling her in for a bold kiss and she looking around with a blush to see who might have noticed . . . then ever so gently taking his hand and swinging it lightly as they walked to see the Opera House—a sweet sight
  7. A six-month-old baby girl on the ferry who seemed to find me fascinating and smiled or gurgled every time I looked over—I tried to set her up with available little American boys I know (my dear nephew, my best friend’s son) but she was already taken LOL
  8. A weathered, older man with a hauntingly beautiful voice singing for his supper along the docks as he strummed his little, careworn guitar, and pulling out all the stops with Dylan, Cash, CCR and Clapton—he was such an authentic soul
  9. A bustling throng of workers streaming from the train at Newtown, heading like pinballs to grocery marts, homes, bars and dry cleaners, all on their own trajectory with their own stories and desires—I found each a little ballad for humanity and watched in rapt attention
  10. The scent of loose leaf jasmine tea brewing slowing to its steamy precipice after I had woven in and out of cafes, coffee shops, restaurants and kiosks asking for a proper pot of tea—I had to sip in wonder as wine, water and soda flowed around me in varying degrees of bubbles and intentions

These are merely a few hope-filled moments from a humble writer’s mind. I imagine your vantage point is equally glorious, if you perch there for a while. Savor the view.

 

Culinary Adventures with Hope

June 3, 2013
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It’s time to give you another taste of nourishing meals. So, grab a snack, your beverage of choice and pull up a comfy chair.

Not the best opening for my tale but my first night in Wellington was, well, sketchy. My recommendation for putting such things behind you is to embrace the beauty, hope and joy of life even more fully the next day. And, whatever you do, don’t carry the ooglies with you.

So, after an outrageously great start at Memphis Belle the next morning (thank you so much to everyone there, especially my friend in the Iron Maiden tee), I was ready to explore the city and surrounding areas.

As mentioned in a previous post, I found my way to Zealandia (more available in Photo Galleries). There, I spent hours hiking hills, rainforests and reservoirs over several kilometers. When I finally stopped, it was to take a seat at Zealandia’s Rata Cafe. I must admit that I went in with mediocre expectations for a dining establishment in an animal sanctuary. I was superbly surprised. Not only was it gluten-free but it was a collection of local, seasonal flavors that warmed the spirit and the body.

Rata Cafe at Zealandia

Bleu cheese, harvest vegetable risotto

With a busy agenda and many things still to see in a few hours, I didn’t get a chance to nourish myself again until later that evening. On my way to my new accommodation, I stumbled across a politically irreverent, totally fun and top-notch restaurant called The Backbencher Gastropub. I treated myself to three delectable courses and some chit-chat with the wonderful staff.

Starter at Backbencher Wellington

Pistachio tomatoes, haloumi, balsamic

Salmon carpaccio

Citrus salmon, dill, peppercorn, pecorino

Venison linguine

Venison linguine, chilli, shallots, BBQ, boconccini, spinach, herb crème fraiche

The next day took me via ferry (more like cruise ship) to the South Island. On the way, I met a fantastic, gifted new friend from India. She and I connected immediately, and it made the journey that much more remarkable. Once ashore, I grabbed brunch at Seabreeze Cafe. This healthy twist on fish and chips was gluten-free, not greasy at all and super fresh.

Healthy fish and chips

Pan-fried fish with lemon, tartare, chips, salad

Later the same day, I was further blessed with a late afternoon stop in Kaikoura—known for crawdads, tourism and delightful cafes. Groper Garage called me in with its glowing fireplaces, mix of metal and wood decor, and the smell of grilled seafood.

Groper Garage in Kaikoura

Mix of wood, metal, fire and irresistible

This gluten-free pizza was called Lord of the Squid Rings and was unbelievably awesome. I was in a rush to catch my bus, so I offered the few remaining slices to a young backpacking couple at a nearby table.

Lord of the squid rings

Garlic olive fish, mussels, calamari pizza

The following day, I took the TransAlpine train from Christchurch to Greymouth. I highly recommend KiwiRail, the onboard staff, the breathtaking views and the whole experience. It’s hard to fathom but even the food on the train was pretty good. However, what I will share next is The Landing Restaurant in Franz Josef, just around the corner from my motel.

Shanks for the memory

Lamb braised in ale, potato cake, veg, jus

With a glacier hike ahead of me the next day and a strong desire to linger near the warm wood stove next to my table, it was easy for one of the managers to “talk me into” a comforting dessert.

Dessert splurge

Apple strudel puff pastry, ice cream, crème anglaise

After rain, snow, ice, hiking, walking and dodging rockslides, I didn’t hold back on dinner the following night. I walked over to Canavans at the Scenic Hotel. I think the hotel staff thought I fell off the mountain with my layers of clothes, windblown hair and ravenous look. Still, they served me a nice meal.

Kicked up calamari

Chilli salt squid, mesculin, feta mayo

Curried cheese pie

Curried cottage cheese pie with cheese fried rice

Admittedly, it took me a couple of days to rebound from the grains, gluten and fried food. I sustained myself on tea, soup and eggs (ok, one fig and walnut chocolate trouffle). Then, on my second day in Queenstown, I found Avanti Restaurant. The server was sweet and skillfully handling the lunch crowd solo. Still, she took time to coach me on their allergy-conscious menu options. This gluten-free penne was tasty beyond words.

Pasta at Avanti Cafe

Chicken, sundried tomato, pesto penne

Next, I was thrilled to arrive in Dunedin. Despite a long walk from the relocated bus terminal in the industrial district to the Octagon in the city center, I was full of hope for my time there. The city has a strong Scottish influence, lots of architectural character and a bustling culinary scene. Potpourri Vegetarian Cafe was a little gem that popped out immediately. In fact, with gluten- and dairy-free options, I visited it on two separate days for lunch and breakfast.

Mixing up the veg

Potato, beans, pico, Moroccan chickpeas

Pre-travel breakfast

Porridge with cranberry, banana, honey

Ah, but going too long without a snack is a dangerous gamble. For the sake of food intolerances, I should have been more mindful about my dinner selection. But this sign and Ace Ventura: Pet Detective playing on the bar television was too hilarious to resist.

Witty sign in front of Alibi

Witty sign in front of Alibi

Alibi was a hopping spot and offered a remarkable menu of flavor combinations.

Gourmet pate

Chicken liver pate with brandy and pistachio

Duck wraps

Spiced up duck wonton wraps with micro greens

In lieu of jumping the bus to see the castle, trekking to the university or rambling along the harbor, I took it easy the following day. I started at the award-winning Nova Café Dunedin. I wanted to be extra cautious about my selection, so the chef and server were gracious enough to turn three gluten-free, dairy-free sides into one phenomenal breakfast. I could not give higher praise for the taste, the presentation, the service or the ambience.

Creation of sides

Smoked salmon, spinach, potato cake

Fueled with nutrients and hope, I visited the free Dunedin Public Art Gallery next door. Taking a momentary artistic tangent from my culinary report, my favorite piece was “Hope” by Edward Burne-Jones (view it). I highly recommend investing time in the outstanding collection on the ground floor.

A few hours later, I headed to the Dunedin Chinese Garden. Sitting amidst a zen space of tradition, tea and scholarly inspiration was exactly the reset my travel-weary spirit needed.

Dunedin Chinese Garden

Winter warmer afternoon tea

For dinner, I chose to sample the treasures of Cambodia. All I can say about San Restaurant is “wow.” Had I not veered onto a new path walking back from the Chinese Garden, I would have never found it. I was so intrigued that I walked in at 5:30 p.m., right as they were opening for the night.

San Cambodian cuisine in Dunedin

San Cambodian cuisine in Dunedin

The restaurant is owned by a family of female refugees, who have gracious spirits and a love for inventing new spice combinations. The San dressing (their signature accompaniment) is addictive. I took my server’s recommendation and added chilli flakes . . . yummmm. Gluten-free was a bonus, as the light dishes, Halal chicken and fresh veg danced on the palate. If you are ever in Dunedin, not stopping here would be tragic.

Khmer rice rolls

Prawn and veg rolls with amazing sauce

Bring on the ban chow

Chicken pancake, bean sprout, San dressing

Making my way north again, I have to give a nod to this snack in a little cafe in a little town on the east side of the South Island. They were in such a bustle to close up at 3 p.m., and I was in such a flurry to reboard my bus, that I failed to catch the name. Regardless, the break and bite were appreciated.

Tea and snack break

Sencha green tea and veg frittata

On to my final day in New Zealand . . . just down from the ferry terminal in Auckland, I found Ebisu. It was the day before Queen’s Birthday (a Kiwi holiday) and there were just a few patrons in for early dinner.

Ebisu in Auckland

Interior of Ebisu, Auckland waterfront

I researched and deliberately chose this restaurant as a last hurrah. All of the airport food, bus stop snacks and hours without a substantial meal left me craving my favorite thing: sushi. I was anything but disappointed, as I savored, sampled and sipped my way through a five-course meal.

Oysters on the half shell

Bluff oysters with tosazu, jalapeño salsa

Sushi at Ebisu

Sashimi, cucumber, tobiko, ginger, sesame dressing

Salmon sashimi

New Zealand salmon with gold leaf, seasonal blossom

Seared duck breast

Duck breast, soy and ginger pickled nashi pear, shichimi pepper, green tea salt

Final New Zealand treat

Red bean ice cream, handmade truffle

So, having explored the nourishment of New Zealand and tried some incredibly tantalizing dishes, I am returning to the smaller portions and mindful eating that works best for my sensitive system. I’m not looking at it as deprivation, as some of my choices (although delicious) were pretty tough on me.

Upon arrival in Sydney yesterday, I stopped for the lunch special at Bar 100. I chose a salad and side combo that is gluten-free and full of flavor. Oh, and the staff was increasingly friendly during my patio dining experience.

Winter salad and potatoes

Chicken, radicchio, rocket, fennel, tomato, feta and smashed rosemary potatoes

Right this moment, I’m sitting in a Bohemian-inspired apartment in Newtown, sipping my green tea, and nibbling sweet orange and ginger hazels (hazelnuts) from a farmers’ market. I hope that being present with my food choices will honor my body, enabling me to feel and act with a lighter state of being. Everything in hopeful moderation.

Beauty is Everywhere

June 1, 2013
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Hope is beauty. It manifests in unique, wild, natural and wonderful ways. Here are sights that intrigue and inspire with little explanation. Some, like life, are witnessed in a blur of movement.

Follow the Birdie

May 28, 2013
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The signs in life can be subtle, like an intuitive nudge to go down one road versus the other; fairly apparent, like a flyer for a new gallery opening down the street; or incredibly obvious, like a placard that says “you must be this tall to ride this ride.” When it comes to animal sanctuaries, it seems they take a whole new approach to hopeful signs.

But first, let me set the stage. I visited the remarkable animal sanctuary of Zealandia (photos below) to take in native birds and “the bush” in its rainforest glory.

As you can see, the hike was well worth the effort. The 360-degree view of the valley from atop the looking tower was fabulous and so inspiring. I saw and heard birds of all colors and sizes, watched small children marvel at the bird feeders (ok, I did too), and gained reverence for the natural beauty of quiet spaces.

After walking several kilometers, I refueled in the cafe upstairs and went to stand by the shuttle stop. A kind gentleman walked by (I assume a staff member for the facility, based on the items he was carrying) and told me to look down for the signs. “What?” I thought with amusement. As I stared at the ground, I saw this little fellow:

Kiwi painted on the sidewalk

A kiwi painted on the sidewalk? I chuckled. Turns out my hope for finding my way to the botanic gardens, in lieu of waiting an hour for the next shuttle, meant following these little birdies. What fun! I made it a hopeful, fun-filled game. Wanna play?

As one of my dear friend’s would say, “Huzzah!” Thanks to a playful spirit, a sense of adventure and a few helpful little painted birdies, I made it to the garden. And the landscaping was fantastic:

I met some wonderful locals, tourists and even a sweet dog on the way. Hope offers up signs of the wonders ahead. Watch for yours, in whatever form they may take. Oh, time to catch the train!

Painted sign for train

Painted sign for train

Slippery Slopes Call For Hope

May 27, 2013
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Majestic. Breathtaking. Inspiring. Staggeringly Beautiful. All of these things describe the landscapes and scenic views of New Zealand. To them, I add rugged, icy, steep, intimidating, chilling, formidable, untamed and unpredictable. For some, these words may deter or even frighten. However, I propose that such descriptors are authentic and just as remarkable. It’s all about the hope you pack on your adventure.

For instance, 4 hours can seem like a blip on the universal radar, until you are 20 minutes into a vertical climb up a steep hill against cold, drizzling rain. Without hope of reaching the summit, hope that your legs will hold out and hope for the views you anticipate ahead, such a hike could tempt you to turn back. But, like life, it’s your choice to push ahead or fold.

The hike into Fox Glacier

The hike into Fox Glacier

In my case, the trek in to meet the Fox Glacier face to face was the most arduous part of the journey. Feeling the shift in elevation from the sea level I am accustomed to, seeing the potential drop off to my immediate right and sensing the burn for air in my chest, there was a moment of anxiousness and a fleeting question, “Can I do this?” Deep breaths, calm thoughts and hopeful concentration won out.

Dizzy with excitement

Dizzy with excitement

Knowing that the steepest climb was over sparked further hope and glee within me. Just seeing this amazing force of nature offered a priceless perspective to the seemingly immense setbacks in life. How could anything be monumental next to this?

First glimpse of the icy giant

First glimpse of the icy giant

On any challenging course, it never hurts to band together. And, of course, it’s best to pack hope (and perhaps hot cocoa).

Half of our glacier party

Half of our glacier party

Winds, snow, wet terrain, icy pools and sharp slopes could make the heart skip a beat. Ok, maybe once or twice it did. Still, it’s the willpower to keep moving, the faith that your footing will be right, and the knowledge that you must trust yourself and your guide. Again, I’m hiding no parallels to everyday life.

A close up of the glacier

A close up of the glacier

There are even times that will surprise and stun you in the same instant. Reaching the clouds, for example, yet not knowing what is over that icy horizon line . . . it means that you need to have hope to dance on the edge between stability and possibility.

Clouds meet frigid earth

Clouds meet frigid earth

Tumbling rocks (yes, we heard several landslides rumbling from heights far above), like the bumps you face in work, life or personal relationships, may try to jar you from holding on to hope. They may even threaten your sense of comfort. Let the fear fall, not your spirits.

Hopeful and invigorated

Hopeful and invigorated

The way you climb to your dreams may require carving a path unlike others and may even mean working each moment to keep your footing, but it will pay off in stunning ways.

Steps carved into the glacier

Steps carved into the glacier

Remember, slopes only appear slippery without the right gear (character, talent, perspective) and can be conquered with an indomitable feeling of hope.

Tucked into a moulin

Tucked into a moulin

Enjoy every step you take and freeze every positive memory in your mind to draw from later.

P.S. I hope wherever my scarf ended up that it brings a spark of warm joy to its new owner.

The Wheels on the Bus

May 24, 2013
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Go round and round. Round and round, round and round.
The wheels on the bus go round and round. All through the town.

Don’t you love the songs of childhood, when honesty, innocence and discovery were the classes of life, and the smallest encounters meant the grandest of stories?

Presently, as I type this, I am spinning along the eastern coast of New Zealand on a bus driven by a wonderful driver named Steve. Steve is talented. How do I know? I’m on the side closest to the ocean and he hasn’t nudged a guardrail yet. (wink) Plus, he’s teaching us about the local language and scenic spots along the way. So many stories woven into the land.

That takes me to mine. You see, the bus has taught me a few things as I travel all over this epic countryside. Like those spinning wheels carrying passengers to new ports of call, our lives and our exchanges with one another spin into new conversations and new connections. When “trapped” on a bus together over a long distance, you see the sleep patterns, restlessness, scenic interests and snacking habits of others. It’s a fun exploration, if you welcome it.

Spinning deeper, you also find out a lot about your comfort zone, your humming voice of judgment and your ability to (pardon me) “roll with it.” Now, this can either take you into a tail spin of increasing frustration, which I witnessed. Or, it can spin you toward personal growth. Let me share an example:

The only seat on a city bus was next to a man who looked quite haggard, with unwashed hair, the permeating smell of old cigarettes and an overstuffed grocery bag. If I chose to remain standing that would have been, in my mind at least, shunning this man unnecessarily. I’m glad I sat down. Turns out that he was very nice, and I learned about cycling and his family. And that was just our brief exchange before he hopped off the bus. I had to ask myself, “What in me made me hesitate?” Petty self-righteousness, fear of cooties or, perhaps, a lack of willingness to shut my eyes and open my heart. Good lesson.

From that moment on, I made it a point to do an empathy scan on the people around me. When a woman recoiled at a man who smelled like wet cats on a very rainy day, I wondered if he was caring for orphan kittens, visiting his mom’s place to help out or heading into the city for promise of a new job. (Sidebar: I ran into him later. Turns out he was going from place to place and hard-pressed to buy a cup of coffee.)

It’s not always the people who seem to be having a rough financial go of it. I saw a well-put-together young woman who held up the bus (as I myself had done on several occasions figuring out where I needed to go) and got a few glares from passengers. I imagined she may be excited about her first job out of college, feeling a bit frazzled after a troubling conversation with her partner or simply overslept after cleaning the house to prepare for a surprise visit from brother on leave from the military. (Sidebar: Turns out she left her wallet at home, her bus pass expired and she just needed a few of these coins they call dollars.)

Empathy is the great equalizer. It calms our judgmental side, exercises our compassion and lets us use this funny thing called an imagination. It also pushes us to grow.

Restoring Hope After Adversity

May 23, 2013
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There are days; there are always days. You know, the ones where you wake up and swear you do everything right but everything seems to be slipping quickly into wrong. Now, this is not my hall pass for you to throw a pity party, take it out on others, or apathetically throw your hands up in the air and bemoan, “Why me?” Nope. I’m about to share a recent trial I faced, with the hope that you will see the light (although it may seem faint at times) is always there, if you look hard enough.

So, I was blessed to visit a charming little town called Hahei in the Coromandel Peninsula and stay with a truly splendid woman. This is my “once upon a time” lead into the story but the reality is no fairy tale. On my scheduled day of departure, I went out early to the bus stop (location verified via Google Maps street view) and waited for the next leg of my journey to begin.

I saw a procession of seniors heading to the library, the charming townsfolk out doing their daily tasks and a few camper vans cruise by to the beach. Around 12:02 p.m. (bus reserved for noon), I felt a bit of anticipation but not anxious. At around 12:05 p.m. I saw a tour coach (that’s what they call buses) go by with a different name on it. It stopped at the gas station right next door. Something told me to walk over but, being a woman solo in a foreign country, I hesitated. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that I saw the coach drive back by heading out of town that I noticed a very small insignia for the company I had hired. “Ugh, wait! Come back!” I shouted as I started off the curb after the bus, waving my arms in astonishment.

Let’s pause and have some fun with this image. A tall, fluffy-haired American running down a small rural street after a tiny bus and attracting attention. It’s really funny, if you think about it. At the time, I was hard pressed to see the humor. I drifted into a minor panic, as that was the only bus out of town that day and I was set to be elsewhere by that night + I didn’t want to lose $60 in booking, while incurring new expenses for housing and transit. I’ll spare you the poor customer service, the fact that the driver refused to turn around and the draining Internet searches that ensued for 30 minutes. Deep breath, I told myself.

Remember my splendid host? Well, with grace, compassion and calm, she came home over lunch and selflessly hopped on calls to help me reroute my plans. She was a ray of hope in a stressful situation, even offering up her home for another night. A special sense of gratitude filled me. As an extra kind gesture, she and her pal drove me the 8.2 km to the ferry landing, so I could get to a bigger town with a tourist site to sort it all out. Thank you so much, Kym (you rock).

Across the ferry I went, having informed my next host that I wasn’t going to make it that day and booked a bus for $80 more the following morning (with a different company). Once in Whitianga, I thought I would grab lunch at a cafe, reset my thoughts and figure out where to secure a room for the night. The tourist site was very pleasant, equipping me with a map and the knowledge that b&bs in the area would be $120+/night. Ouch. I decided to walk around and see what else I could find.

Here is a funny turn. I saw a sign for a hotel just down from tomorrow’s bus stop. Perfect, I thought. Walking in, it was a bar . . . wait for it, with gaming room attached . . wait again, with a rich history showcased on the wall. It used to be the blacksmith’s shop. Intriguing tales here.

Showcasing history

The barkeep was a super helpful young man who had been on for three days and was doing his utmost to call and determine how to book a room. “But,” I thought, “where were the rooms?” I was given keys for 8 and 9. I was then lead through the kitchen, around the back and to a staircase leading up to the rooms—above the bar! Ok, every spaghetti western came to mind. I was stressed but chuckled (this is a good thing to do when you don’t know what else to do). The rooms were simple, included bunkbeds (yep, you read that right) and shared bathroom facilities. And, lo and behold, there was someone living in 10 next door. As a writer, I thought this story was too interesting not to see through. “I can do this,” I coached myself.

Ok, $60 for the room and key in hand. Now, time to brace the misty day and find a cafe. I was famished. Like many people, I don’t function as efficiently or hopefully without nourishment. However, it was not to be. I found a plethora of these signs mocking my tummy’s mission:

Nice special but closed

Tasty but closed

Closed for summer

Best of all (hint of sarcasm), today was the first day of winter break. Yeah, I came to town just in time! Groan, the ache of my belly was eating away at my patience. “Hold on to hope. Think positive. All will be ok.” I thought to myself. And, so I tried my luck with a cafe owner who was pulling in tables. He was incredibly sweet and was still able to get me a large hot chocolate (extra strong = extra chocolate). Oh, amen. If you ever make it to Whitianga. Tip the gentleman at Tides Cafe extra for me.

Fortified enough to keep the peace within, I decided to spend the few hours before the three remaining restaurants in town opened for dinner around 5 p.m. So, with perfect timing, the sun came out for an afternoon jaunt and I spent time getting to know the harbor and a very friendly seagull that I lovingly dubbed, Pretty Bird.

Whitianga harbor

Looking to the ferry

Pretty bird

I think he was after my cocoa cup but the company was appreciated, as was the sound of kids playing at the playground next to this lovely old tree.

Tree at the kids' park

After pacing the front door like a jungle cat for 20 minutes, this restaurant welcomed me in for seafood. It was referred to me by two locals who said it had the best seafood around. Between the Coromandel Oysters and fish of the day over twice-baked potatoes with paprika aioli, I was regaining life.

Squids seafood restaurant

As the rain settled in for a drenching evening, I walked back to my tavern loft, pausing to chat with some locals about netball, travel and my passion for hopeful inspiration.

Foggy morning walk

The neighboring room was entertaining a party of some sort for a while, so I settled into the bottom bunk and counted off the blessings of the day. It’s a far better exercise to catalog the good than to simmer over the bad. I was thankful for helpful townspeople, my new pal Pretty Bird, that hot cocoa, food in my belly, a slightly worse-for-the-wear heater, great staff at the hotel, the sunlight in the afternoon, a place to rest my head, a ferry ride (I love being on the water, even if for a moment), the bus tomorrow, the perseverance I earned, Internet to update my mom (she, in her words, “worries”), the sound of rain and all of you.

 

Morning Walk in Narnia

May 20, 2013
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Yesterday, I discovered a portal. It was cut in along the sea, slippery with mud from the evening’s rain and overgrown with plants playing shadow puppets.

HaHei Beach

The sun was barely able to peek through at first, making the path nearly indiscernible. So, I followed the shreds of light with hope of learning the secret of this land.Ascending from Hahei Beach

Atop the hills, I found the sun cresting the horizon and illuminating my perspective.
 Sunrise May 20

Sun cresting the horizon

Then, the light became so bright that shapes began to shift, and I found myself racing down a rocky path toward the voice of the surf and the call of Tui birds.

Cathedral Cove Beach

To my amazement and delight, I had crossed over into the Land of Narnia.

Early light on the cove

I was walking, running and soaking in the very places I had seen in a dream.

Cathedral Cover

Rock face jutting into the sea

In front of Cathedral Cove

Even the waters seemed magical, filled with hope and whirling toward me like they were dancing.

Tide dancing at the cove

But the spinning was replaced by a dim fog and the outline of familiar things.

Misty morning walk

I asked a tree which way to go and he pointed me back through the blurry portal from Narnia to reality.

Tree points the way

As I blinked and got my bearings, I saw the houses of Hahei in the distance, bright with morning and waking from their own dreams. They had no idea the adventure I had just been on.

Lush vegetation atop Hahei

Here’s hoping each day you see where your dreams take you. You may be happily surprised.