In Auckland with Milica

Two Jehovah Witnesses came to the door, a tall girl with straight blonde hair and a younger girl accompanying her who was silent. "We have our own bible", Milica's mum explained as we sat at the dining table by the open French doors painting Easter eggs. It was already a week after the commercial Easter Sunday, but Orthodox Christians follow the original calendar from the Old Testament. She pointed to a picture of St George on the wall and explained he is their family saint.

Milica's family moved to New Zealand from Serbia in 1995 when Milica was 11. Both her parents were electrical engineers, but there was no industry in New Zealand. Her father instead became a taxi driver, but now he is retired and is helping Milica's brother start his own electrical engineering firm in Fiji. Her mother cleans houses and does ironing. She is also the best cook in the Serbian community, Milica says with pride, trying to glue a butterfly, before it disintegrates, onto an egg.

I imagine this is where Milica gets her adaptability from; already she has done more jobs than a spy. Before leaving school she did paper runs, worked in a pharmacy, a hairdressers, bakers, clothes store and did market research in a call centre. After graduating in marketing she worked in a financial services company for two and a half years, but then travelled to Italy and became and au pair. She then she taught English at a private language school in Pisa before returning to New Zealand to work as an account manager for a search optimisation company. We met in Japan, where Milica lived on the Ososumi peninsular for two years. After the JET Programme she worked on yachts living on and off in Majorca, where we met up for a holiday with Kat a year or two ago. She then came back to Auckland and has trained as a yoga teacher. Now she is saving up for a round the world trip.

Milica showed me some of the main sights- from Mt. Eden we could see a volcano caldera and a view of the city. We had lunch at Karangahape Road at a place run by Algerian chefs to get a taste of the multicultural centre. In the evening, after Milica's yoga class, we went to see a Tammy Nielson gig, a Canadian country singer, before going on to a bar called Racket to experience some of the Kiwi night life. We're off for a walk to St Helena's along the water by Mission Bay and I'll be catching my flight tonight if all goes as planned.

Thanks for following. See you soon!

Sharing the Honeymoon

It's the first honeymoon I've ever been on. Kat had packed, foraged for and organised for me a tent, sleeping bag, rain jacket and climbing shoes (she even remembered my shoe size).

Our road trip by van, departing from Wellington, would encompass, I only just discovered, Lake Taupo, Rotorua and on to Coromandel.

Kat was keen for me to have some Kiwi experiences, including trying national food such as pies and under Llyal's insistence, goodie goodie gum drop ice cream.

The drive to Taupo, where lies the largest lake in New Zealand, passed over some pretty diverse terrain, including a dessert and the dramatic Taupo Volcanic Zone where Llyal did his military training. Three mountains were barely visible through the foggy sky.

The lake itself is 8 cubic kilometres and sits in the caldera of a volcano that began erupting about 300,000 years ago. A lady with a speed boat was waiting to take us across to the other side. The waves caused motion as if on the sea but there was no salty taste to the air. At the other side we pulled into a little known free campsite carved into the bushes. Ducks paddled in the wake of the boat and Kat and Llyal's climbing buddies met us. We finished the day with a barbecue on the beach.

This trip has brought several firsts for me as I'd never been climbing in the great outdoors. The next morning, we fumbled along a barely trodden path over boulders and tree roots to get to the base of a cliff by the sea. It's exhilarating climbing - harness attached - above the thick forest of trees to sense the exposure of the world around, clinging (barely) to the face of rock 50 meters above sea level. Despite being quite safe (keen climbers fix bolts- small, permanent anchors fixed in the rock at regular intervals - at potential climb spots. They offer dependable protection and reduce the chance of a very long, potentially severe fall), climbs with high exposure are not for the faint hearted. For most of the climb, however, a climber is immersed in concentration. The thought process of where to grab handholds, trusting minute footholds and developing techniques that enables you to reserve energy, provides as much of the thrill.

Kiwis know how to enjoy life, choosing easily between the things that matter and the superfluous. Many are generous with what they have and prefer the simple option. Experienced campers on the whole- clean, prepared and respectful to the environment- they are treated in return with free camping opportunities throughout the north and south islands.

After leaving the lake the following evening, we spent the night in a free campsite by the river in Taupo. The next morning, after sighting the Aratiatia falls, we headed for Rotorua where a line of geothermal activity stretches as far as Whakaari. The Maori revered this place, and today 35% of the Rotorua population is Maori, with their cultural performances and traditional hangi as a big attraction. Despite the pervasive eggy odour, we enjoyed a lazy morning at Te Whakarewarewa, a thermal reserve, where we could also see traditional Maori weaving, wood carving and dance.

Maori is the "white" term for a people who prefer to be known by their specific Polynesian descent or 'Iwi'. Polynesians arrived in New Zealand from about 1200CE, wiping out the first native people of New Zealand. Today the Maori make up roughly 15% of the country's population.

We arrived at our batch in Coromandel by evening where we met up with Kat's Canadian friends. The "batch", or holiday home, was in the stunning setting of a harbour, lit brightly by the moonlight.

The holiday was starting to wind down and we finished with a day at the beach, walking through a cliffside national reserve to get to Cathedral cove.

The Wedding

Kat spent the morning of her wedding driving around in their van wearing her wedding dress. When I arrived at the venue- a quaint colonial style villa made of wood with white picket fences and a balcony surrounding the upper floor windows, I expected I would only see her when she walked down the aisle, but she was present in the reception area with her friends and family in full attire. A few guests arrived and apologized for being late, thinking they’d missed it.

Kat and Llyal bring credence to the phrase “Other half”. They first dated when they were 16 until Kat left for university and Llyal for the army. One of Llyal’s friends described the day after they first broke up and Llyal came into work and didn’t stop crying until he was sent home. Towards the end of Kat’s year in Japan, where we met, she and Llyal started Skyp’ing and they reinstated their relationship shortly after her return. They then spent a couple of years in London before careering around Europe in a camper van together. With the familiarity of childhood sweethearts, shared friends, laughter and tolerance they commit to spend their lives entwined.

In the setting of the manor house grounds, with the backdrop of the sea, Llyal’s parent’s married them. His Dad then politely asked the atheists if they would patiently accept a prayer for the newlyweds.

Sail Away

The idea of long stretches of sea, boyish boat knots and potentially treacherous waves never seemed to appeal compared to land or air travel. I've never considered sailing as I haven't got sea legs, but now I've been developing them by living on the Thames, a pretty fast flowing river, the paddles on the sea gates are slowly opening.

Hannah's husband Daniel explained that you can sail around the world in 15-17 day crossings. The possibility of connecting the dots, the freedom of the sea and the level of self agency has an allure.

The sea has its own laws; not only are you subject to the waves themselves but international maritime rules are different to the land. You have up to 72 hours once you enter any place. Although you are expected to use a boat passport, in reality you can dock anywhere in any country largely unnoticed.

Daniel built their family boat from a hull and skeleton, originally crafted around 1900. At one stage Hannah and Daniel took their kids out of school to sail 9 months around Tonga and the Polynesian islands. When they returned to school, the teachers noted their increase in confidence and self-reliance. "Books aren't the only education that matters", I noted during one of our conversations.

When we set off for the Abel Tasman National Park, the harbour in Takaka was very still. The clear blue water glistened with sunshine and the horizon afar stood very flat, challenging vessels afloat to reach it. The odd seal bobbed in an out of sight. As we picked up speed and sensed the salt air, the surrounding view of rocks and islands in the vast waters rendered images of olde sea tales like Moby Dick, Robinson Crusoe and Pirates of the Caribbean.




As we sat on deck with a beer and sunshine in our faces, the experience mellowed and became very relaxing. When we approached Adele island I could hear this raucous from the trees- the strangest array of bird noises as if creatures were pumping air down long metal poles of different lengths. As we pulled up, Daniel got ready to anchor and Hannah told me, "they're bell birds".

We would spend the night by the little island with gentle waves splashing against the rocks and the prehistoric sounds emerging from the overgrowth.

That evening, after the kids had finished exhausting themselves exploring in their little kayaks, we played Kiwi monopoly. Outside the porthole, the brightest moon could be seen filling the sky with silken light.



The next day we were up to hear the very first bird call which resounded over the island as the first light fetched the blackened water from the sea. We then sailed to Nelson where I would pick up a bus to Picton and from there a ferry to Wellington to meet Kat for the wedding.

The World between the Horse's Ears

Riding can be a bit like speaking your mother tongue- you know how, but have no idea how you got there. I explained to Baerbel, our guide, that even though I've ridden horses my whole life, I have really no idea what I'm doing. I realised this when I arrived at a beach in Malaysia on a male Thoroughbred and it took one look at the stretch of beach and galloped. All I could feel was the power of its muscle beneath, but with feet fallen out of the stirrups and the horse's determination to win whatever race it had constructed in its head, despite sunbathers in its path, I really had no control. Baerbel explained that horses in Malaysia are built for racing. They're programmed to reach the other side as fast as possible. The only way to ask them to stop in that situation is to force them to take a sudden change of direction and break that resolve.

Right now we were approaching the beach in Golden Bay not far from Hannah's house. It was early morning and the crickets were stretching their legs in chorus and dew drops rested on the palm leaves hanging over the track. The sun was just settling in for the day, with its golden glow stretching over the patches of cloud. As we stepped out onto the sand, which compressed gently under hoof, my horse let me know she wasn’t a bolter. The sea climbed up the beach to the right and between the horse’s ears the bay could be seen curving around the rocky hills with layers of greenery and tall trees poised on the hilltops. People had built simple wooden homes in secluded spots peering out of the foliage.

When you haven't ridden in a long time and you're new to a particular horse you start off stiff and it takes a while to ease into it and build communication. After an hour or so your movements become more as one and even the subtlest indicators such as the movement of one leg or shifting in the seat can signal a particular direction or action. There are different techniques for long distance riding, it’s important to look into the distance to guide the direction of the ride, you should also stand up as you gain speed to ease the load for your horse.

We galloped up the beach racing against the incoming tide. There was a river to cross further along before it became too full and strong to cross on horseback.

We rode through Collingwood. The first settlers came to these parts first. Following the discovery of payable gold-deposits in the Aorere Valley in 1856 the town's population surged and the suggestion was made that Collingwood should become New Zealand's capital. The calm safe bay provided the illusion that this would be a good spot for the ships to moor, but it was too shallow.

The ride ended at Farewell Spit, a long narrow stretch of white sand, protected in the confines of a natural reserve, specked with drift wood and fossils. It forms the northern side of Golden Bay and is the longest sandspit in New Zealand, stretching for about 26 km above sea level and another 6 km underwater. It is located about 50 kilometres north of Takaka, where Hannah lives, and 20 kilometres from Collingwood.

Anahata

"Breathe in deeply. Not like that...
Breathe first into your abdomen and then fill your chest completely with air. When you exhale, release air first from the chest steadily and then away from your abdomen. It's important to practice this until you get it right; each time taking full deep breaths".

"The breath is the bridge between body and mind". I was lying on a yoga mat by Swami Karma Karuna who was instructing me in the art of deep relaxation.  She complained I took 5 breaths to her every one. She termed this fight or flight mode.

Anahata yoga retreat is at the top of a hill about 14km from where Hannah lives in Takaka below, up a long dirt track that winds through sheep fields with the view of the bay rolling out below. The complex is formed of a wooden building at the top that evokes little House on the Prairie, with a beautiful yoga practice room down a path lined with brightly coloured flowers and tropical plants. The room is round and echoes the feel of a yurt, though is a more solid structure, made of wood, with triangular glass windows. Totted around the surrounding land are huts where people can stay, with some more secluded huts down tracks in pockets of cleared shrubs with the beautiful backdrop of the sea.

Shortly after arriving, Hannah and I attended the pre-lunch chanting session.  The other attendees were mostly wearing long cotton shirts over baggy pants and were already prepared, sitting on yoga mats in a ring. The chanting consisted mostly of signing and cantillating sanskrit or hindi songs together as a group. I gained confidence through the fact that I was certainly the most cynical person there, giving the advantage that no one would be judging me more harshly than I judged myself.

For lunch the group eat together in silence. I am used to hippie food since I eat it at home a lot - so that's something that was familiar at least. There were lentils and fresh vegetables from the yoga garden with a hint of Indian spice put together by a group member. Karmic yoga is the discipline of action, achieving tranquillity through selfless service. Members of the group are are encouraged to do daily activities such as making lunch, sweeping or working in the garden to progress in spiritual life.

Soon after it was time for Hannah to go. "I feel like I'm leaving you at kids camp", she remarked.
"Don't leave me here with all these people", I responded to her, mostly serious.
"It's good to be pushed out of your comfort zone".

Yoga, Indian spiritual practice, meditation, Vipanssana... I am both drawn to it and repelled by it. Either because I was still experiencing jet lag or a need to hibernate from the baggy pants, smiling faces, gentle voices and "oms" of salutation, I fell asleep for several hours, with rays of sunshine gushing through the window. I slept through dinner, and when I awoke, someone had left me cold tofu soup.

It's easy to be cynical of alternative therapies, but at the same time, Western traditions do not have a monopoly on knowledge. It is also true that the Western approach is not very holistic, or doesn't appreciate the connection between mind and body.

In my private session, Swami Karma Karuna had told me the most important practice for me was yoga nidra. From California originally, she started the centre from scratch 28 years ago, and she specialises in treating people with chronic fatigue. It's easy with an ongoing condition to ignore it, to do as much as you can with it, to carry it with you everywhere, to be slowed by it, but never to focus on it.

Yoga nidra or "yogi sleep" is a sleep-like state which yogis report to experience during their meditations. Yoga nidra, or lucid sleeping, is among the deepest possible states of relaxation while still maintaining full consciousness. Only through this deep relaxation can you develop your prana or energy. Prana is the sanskrit word for "life force".

The first Yoga Nidra group session did not go well. I lay down, trying to concentrate where the teacher was guiding our minds, but my jumper itched, my leggings were too tight, I got a twitchy leg, and the impulse to wriggle and shuffle was irresistible. I took this to mean that I was not yet ready for the yogic zone, unable to keep still from London life, and that maybe this practice would be good after all.

The camp practices silence from 8:30 at night until 8:30 in the morning. It is interesting and not unpleasant being in company and completely silent. It was strange to wind down and hear the hum of nothingness as we went to sleep up on this hill in the rich natural surroundings. We were up at 5:00 for the morning session of deep relaxation, following by a much needed active session of hatha yoga.

In the next yoga nidra practice, I already felt a vast improvement. I entirely relaxed and almost fell asleep. I think partly the teacher was a lot better and more experienced. Yoga nidra also incorporates a similar principle to hypnosis. You can get into a deep state of relaxation halfway between wake and sleep. the mind is a lot more receptive to taking in information at this halfway point. This is when you repeat your sankalpa.

Sankalpa (संकल्प) means conception or idea or notion formed in the heart or mind, solemn vow or determination to perform. In practical terms, it means the one-pointed resolve to do or achieve; and both psychologically and philosophically, it is the first practical step by which the sensitivity and potentiality of the mind is increased; it is known as the capacity to harness the will-power and the tool to focus and harmonise the complex body-mind apparatus.

Your sankalpa or aim has to be something focused and realistic, though rather than something specific like "give up smoking", it should be broader and incorporate more, like, "become healthier each day".

I felt more settled by the time I was due to go home. It would take months of yogic practice in that environment to see the full effects of it. But if nothing more, a few days at Anahata provide the chance to think about health- the nutrition in your diet, the products you put on your skin, the surroundings you live in and the connection between mind and body.

Takaka - Golden Bay

Waking up I can hear birds instead of a bustling city and the gentle clatter of rain on the roof of Hannah's art studio where I'm sleeping.

12 years have passed since Hannah, a family friend, came backpacking here and never left. It seems she is not alone, as this town attracts quite a few seeking a more laid back, organic and community led existence. Her choice always represented a kind of freedom away from the humdrum of our overpopulated island of busy workers and must do rules.

Takaka is a one horse hippie town, with whole foods and housing Hannah's art gallery. Hannah and her family live in between the boat that Daniel built and the outskirts of town in their modest abode with big windows, billowing with Hannah's unique artistic taste.

Hannah and Daniel have 3 children with beach blonde hair. Mya stands firm as the oldest, Noah is a sun kissed and curly haired Tarzan, and Tilly squeaks and giggles happily as her 5th birthday approaches tomorrow.

Arrival - Another 3 plane journeys later

Emirates kept it quiet that the plane stopped in Brisbane for a couple of hours on the way into Auckland. I then had to wait 3 hours at Auckland International Airport for my transfer to Nelson. After 30 hours of travelling, I'm finally here. If the world wasn't round, I'd feel I'd reached the end of it.

The luscious greenery from the plane window stood in stark contrast to the dusty streets of Dubai. One of the most treasured moments of travelling is taking those first steps from the airport door and allowing your senses to experience something new. You can taste the recently fallen rain in the air and study the shape of plants you've never seen before- plants that here are a delicious fusion of forrest and the subtropics.

It was a relief to see Hannah finally and her daughter Maya waiting for me as we picked up my bag from the aircraft trolley.

You will all have to visit me here from now on because I don't think I'll get on a plane again.

The Towers and the Tourist

The doorway leading out of Dubai International Airport presents a post-apocalyptic world of extraterretrial 50 story buildings jutting out of dry and dusty earth.

The metro is like a $million glass bullet that guides passengers seamlessly from North to South; however, straying from this route by public transport is near impossible. Despite the well-known multiculturalism, I could feel many eyes on me - wandering and resting eyes.  The fashion is clean and neat, chanelling millennium meets upmarket Ibiza.

Too awake to sleep but needing to relax, and feel less of a moth in a butterfly sanctuary, I visited the nail bar at the bottom of Nibby's apartment. I had the day to myself until he finished work. As I was waiting, a person on a Segway whizzed part.

Dubai was't what I expected. I imagined glass materialism uniting with showy architecture and desert heat. I was surprised by how big and sprawling it is. I had no idea so many 100s of 1000s of humans could live on the 36+ floor. To get from place to place you can cover quite vast distances. It isn't like London where everything gravitates to the city centre like the centre of an atom.

Before meeting Nibby that evening, a friend from SOAS, I visited the famous Dubai Mall. In most ways just a regular but very large Blue Water, it sported the addition of a sky high waterfall and worthwhile touristic water light display over the flashy lake. Distinctive Emiratis in white traditional Bedouin robes were strolling into Cartier amongst ice-cream eating kids and trainer wearing teens.

I met Nibby and his friends in the Palm Beach Hotel before heading out to another complex to a bar. The Dubai night scene is generally a meat market of boob jobs and Gucci handbags, with posing and peacocking... night clubs and bars are only allowed in hotels which allows for little variation. Expatriate women teeter around in heels and little else within the complexes, but it's advised to cover up outside, and similarly drinking in these venues is fine, but you can get arrested outside for being drunk. The country carries these antithetical realities of East and West, debauchery and decency, liberalism and conservative Islam. Amongst the varied demographic, as described by a local, is a fairly defined hierarchy of race with local Emirates (15%) at the top, followed by other Arabs from Iran, Iraq and recently Syrians who have fled the trouble, with Westerners close behind, then Egyptians and then other expatriates from Asia and so on.

The next day we again met at the Palm Beach by the pool and began the unwind into the calming setting of privilege and sunbathers with green Arabic coffee and locally grown dates. Nibby's other friends arrived and they got lost at the pool bar for a while. Sadik doesn't drink, so we lounged on the beach, with hot sand underfoot and the backdrop of the world's most exclusive hotel.

At about 3pm we headed to Deira, the old part of the city, with one purpose: to visit the fish market and purchase dinner.  As we weaved in and out of the busy tables of fresh crabs, wiggling lobsters, carved king clip and piles of prawns, I was grateful to not be there as a lone tourist. You take your bag of fish to be cleaned in another section, before moving on to another joint where it is spiced and grilled. We then took our trappings to a further venue to be eaten. The grimy popular eatery spotted with plastic tables, together with our delicious locally caught fresh food, brought humble relief from the ostentation beyond.

                                     

"Let's go to the market", Sadik announced.
"What's at the market?"
"I need to get my mum some oppressive clothing".

Never having shopped for abayas, hijabs or niquabs before personally, this promised a new experience. Amongst the stalls we were met with spice shops and sacks overflowing with frankincense, sumac, zaatar, cinnamon, cloves, and other aromatic spices, and shelves lined with everything from henna shampoo to tiny boxes of saffron. Inside the small tailors, routing through variant designs of black abayas (long black robes without the hijab neck scarf or niqab which covers all but the eyes), I asked Saddik, "why doesn't your mum get these in the UK" where they live? "You can't easily get them there", he explained, and "my mum has classy taste. Her friends always comment on her excellent abayas chosen by her son in Dubai". The abaya is traditionally completely black but today, you might see some with colorful embroideries around the collar, buttons or on the sleeves. Furthermore, these days, the younger generations of Emiratis like to wear fitted abayas when these were originally designed to hide or prevent from revealing physical shape.

I had an early night, having to get up for my flight the next day. Again met by the experience of antithesis, the dual sensation of being quite ready to leave and wanting to stay and have more fun, I departed for New Zealand.

Thanks Nibby and Sadik - I am grateful to you for showing me the city as you experience it - and for your humour along the way.