A few days ago when I started writing this post I was sitting in an outdoor tea room with a Buddha statue straight in front of me and a watery horizon to my left. There was even a little gas stove inside the wooden chest with tea leaves and cups, for those who feel so inclined. In my ears was a swirling harmony of cicadas, Sufjan Stevens, the wind and the sea.
The place was called Shambhala in Golden Bay and sadly, I just left this morning after 4 glorious nights. It's described as an eco-Buddhist retreat, and I would have to agree, what with the meditation center and all the Buddhist paraphenalia. The house runs on solar panels and the water is collected from rain, and there's always fresh mint for tea. It's the perfect resting place that made me feel like I didn't have to be anywhere else, rushing around trying to find the next attraction and getting all I can out of a town.
The Golden Bay area has been a good place to make connections and well, be happy. When I arrived in Picton 12 days ago, it felt like starting all over again in a foreign territory, even though I was really excited to be finally arriving to the south island. Picton was just a town to pass through; notable items being the free hostel dessert and a nice 3 hour trail walk. In Nelson too, although I mostly enjoyed the town and found it charming, it still felt like something was missing. It could've been partly due to the hostel, which was more like a hotel and didn't bring people together (I only hung out with the 3 German girls in my room).
I think that week was the closest I've felt to feeling homesick or lonely. Not that I moped around or anything - I went to the farmer's market, checked out a couple gorgeous sunsets and ate some tasty food - but again, something felt lacking. I was also thinking too much ahead of other things: of the Abel Tasman National Park, where I had no hiking/kayaking buddy, of which coast I should travel down first, and of whether it was worth staying a whole 9 days in Golden Bay to attend Luminate, an 8 day music festival, even though I had no ride, no tent, no way of keeping food for a week, and again, no buddy.
This week has been a really good lesson in learning that the universe will usually provide, to stay patient and open-minded, and to stop looking for something or someone that isn't there yet. You won't gel with every single person you meet, and there's no such thing as the perfect itinerary. It's all part of letting go.
When I settled into Marahau at the entrance of Abel Tasman, things gradually got easier. I was still secretly hoping that I'd find someone to rent a kayak with to avoid the high cost of a guided tour, but the first night people were either leaving soon, coupled up, or alone and happy to stay that way. I felt discouraged, which was odd because up until now I've loved spending time alone. I think before there were things going on but I always had the option of being social or not, whereas now nobody was interested in making connections with each other.
Finally, I had to tell myself to relax and let things unfold, and to just enjoy the time I had to myself. Which is what I did. The first day, I just went to the beach across the street. The tides there are crazy! In the morning, it's high tide all the way up to the road, and in late afternoon you can walk out for 15 minutes before you get to any water. I sat in some warm shallow pools of water and read, but kept having to move my stuff back because the water started creeping in. I fell asleep towards the end and when I woke up found myself surrounded on an island, with just enough seconds to grab my stuff before the water rushed in. After dinner when I returned, there was no sand to be seen anywhere.
The next day I tackled the Abel Tasman coastal trail by water taxiing up to Bark Bay (almost halfway up) and walking the 20km back to the entrance. Walking trail being the operative phrase, because it ended up being flat ground for most of it, with clearly marked signs telling you what's up ahead. Seriously, you can't get lost in this country. That being said, the scenery was breathtaking, with trees and birds on the immediate path and a minute walk down to beaches all along the way. I walked the first bit with a Swiss guy and we crossed through ankle-deep water from Torrents Bay to Anchorage on the low tide track, which cut the walk by 40 min. He went on to his kayak tour while I stopped for lunch and continued the trek alone. It was a lot of fun, I had my tunes on and whenever I needed a break I just plopped myself on the beach.
At the end of the day I made it back to the hostel and figured I'd just give in to paying for a guided kayak tour - it was either that or missing out because they don't let you kayak alone (haha, bitterly I thought, "Fine, I'll pay to have some friends"). I cheaped out as much as I could and signed up for a half day which was still pricey. When I got back to the hostel, there were just two guys, one German and the other Dutch. The Dutch guy revealed that he had wanted to kayak on his own, but ended up signing up for the full tour the next day. I believe my words to him were, "Where the hell have you been??" But it was too late, so I just changed my tour to a full day with him.
That night, the three of us went to a Reggae night at a cafe up the road. The cafe was funky and so was the band. Eventually I got my dance on with all the other people in the crowd and let go. It was great! Things absolutely went uphill from there.
Next morning, me and Hugo kayaked with an American couple and a Kiwi family. Unfortunately we didn't get to kayak around Tonga Island, where there are supposed to be curious baby seals that jump on on your kayak, because for some unknown reason there were only a few seals around and the wind was too strong. As lunch ended it started to rain on us, giving the kayaking a kind of mysterious atmosphere. We stopped in a small lagoon to look for oysters but only found a few. After some choppy parts with salt water flying everywhere the tour ended, and as we taxied back to Marahau I felt very accomplished as a sea captain (from steering in the back). We celebrated our victorious journey with a delicious burger that took forever to arrive and was too big for my mouth. Also, during dinner I got to practice my Chinese with some women (oh yeah and some Italian the night before).
In the morning me and Hugo lazily chilled out at the sunny cafe facing the beach until I felt it was time to hitchhike. We parted ways and immediately I got a ride in a camper van driven by a Dutch couple. We chatted while they drove and I bounced around in their living room, and they dropped me off in Takaka at the Barefoot Backpackers. Talk about vibe - the second I drove into town and then walked in the door, I could tell this was going to be a good one. I could also tell that waiting out the days before the festival was going to be easier than I had thought.
What made this one of my favorite hostel experiences was the place was set up in a way that encouraged socializing, and also there happened to be the perfect mix of awesome backpackers. I spent the first two days not even seeing the town center, but instead talking to people and jumping into cars to see the surrounding natural sights.
sunset near the Spit
The first night I went to the northermost point of the south island, Farewell Spit. We also checked out Whakariki Beach, which can only be accessed at low tide and has amazing rock formations on the sand and out at sea. We spotted a few seals lounging at Cape Farewell, and then said goodnight to the sun on a hill covered in sheep poo overlooking the long skinny strip that was Farewell Spit. (Sad side note - I learned that 30 odd whales there had to be shot because they kept getting trapped by low tides.) All of that plus making food went on pretty late, so me, Jarno and Timm didn't eat our lasagna dinner until 11:30pm, but it was tasty.
The second day we saw The Grove, a natural reserve that was Jurassic Park meets Indiana Jones with lots of weathered rocks. In the evening there was a small sushi-making party, headed by our sensei Aya. They had caught 2 salmon from the farm nearby and so we had ourselves a mountain of sashimi. We went to town on it and definitely had sushi hangovers the next day.
Third day was perfect, with a mix of relaxing with good people, eating tasty food and sightseeing. The only thing that killed the buzz a bit was weird old British hippy who didn't want to leave the hostel after checking out and woke everyone up with his shouts of "Mother Earth is mine! This world is going down!"
Anyway, me and Norweigan Lars finally checked out Takaka, which is small but very funky and alternative. We were joined by Katrina and had an amazing thin crust pizza for lunch that was so good I had it 2 days in a row (hurray for food buddies!). In the afternoon we did a surprisingly tough hike to the Rawhiti Cave and stood at the mouth in awe, looking up at the stalactites spiraling down from the ceiling. We also quickly checked out the clearest source of water in the world, which was ironically called Pupu Springs. Dinner at the hostel involved creamy salmon pasta using leftover sashimi and me trying to teach Lars to cook (ie. ordering him around while he did everything). It turned out bellissimo, and rounded out our amazing Italian food day.
Barefoot Bkpkrs in its awesomeness let me hang out until 3pm after check out (never happens in NZ). But the time eventually came to move on to Shambhala, a whopping 20 min drive up the road. Me and Solange (French girl) walked outside to hitchhike, and here is where the universe stepped in at its final climax. A car stopped and although the guy wasn't going in the same direction, he invited us to be his volunteers for his chai cafe at the Luminate festival in exchange for a free ticket. At that moment I thought, "Universe, I knew you'd provide!" So we exchanged digits and he drove off. The icing on the cake was the next car that rolled by turned out to be the owner of Shambhala and took us all the way. Later, after some downtime on a lawn chair, I ate dinner with some Dutchies and spent yet another night talking til 2am.
Most days at Shambhala I did absolutely nothing at all, in a content and therapeutic way. Hard to get off my arse and "do something". I did get some exercise in Friday and Sunday night though, since both nights we went to the nearby Mussel Inn to jump around barefoot to live country rock music. Saturday we went on an 'ambitious' 10km drive to Collingwood and got some delicious handmade chocolate from the famous Rosy Glow chocolate store and walked along the windy beach. We also zipped through a 2 hour yoga session taught by a very interesting bearded man in the meditation room. Then me and Katrina walked to the Mussel Inn for dinner and was joined by the others for drinks. The drive home was the 4th time we piled clown car style into someone's vehicle with 6 or 7 people... somehow I always end up configured in some weird way because I'm the smallest.
The week has felt really long and fulfilling, and right now I'm just hanging out in Takaka until Luminate. I'm back at Barefoot and it feels different because people won't stop speaking German... so it just goes to show you how important the people are in influencing the vibe of a place. Anyway, if all goes according to plan I'll be MIA for a week starting Wednesday, working and grooving to some sweet music up in the Takaka Hills, and enjoying spiritual workshops and organic food.
Again, what I've learned is to step back and let nature run its course. Things really do work themselves out. And traveling will have its ups and downs, just like regular life. Of course it's easier to let go when there are no real problems or stress at hand, but I hope I can carry some of this back to real life.
