I've never been much of a tourist, I'm not interested in museums or galleries or fancy buildings. I don't have much of an appreciation for paintings and even the most spectacular architecture usually just makes me bored. I'm a kosher vegetarian so I don't eat in kooky restaurants and I hate shopping with a passion. I've spent my entire adult life surviving on a shoe string budget, I've been out of work more than I have been in it and at a push I can carry/drag everything I own. Basically I'm lazy, poor and uncultured.
However, in spite of myself I have been to and experienced some of the most amazing and extreme places in the world. It makes me cringe a bit when people say to me in awe 'you've had so many lives' or 'is there anything you haven't tried?' but in truth, looking back over some of the crazy stuff I have done perhaps a little bit of incredulous awe is necessary after all...
Here is my list, in no particular order, of CRAZY THINGS I HAVE DONE!
Moved to New Zealand.
When I was sixteen my aunty bought me a ticket to New Zealand, since my mum was born there I have always had a NZ passport so a ticket was all I needed. I got on that plane with barely a backwards glance, i didn't even know how to find New Zealand on a map. After o got there I looked it up on a globe and was horrified to discover I was so far away from.. well.. everything! Within a year of arriving I was living in a caravan in the middle of an empty field with no electricity and no running water working in an onion packing factory. I had no shoes so I would cycle the ten or so miles to work in flip flops and then the factory owner would lend me a pair of gum boots to work in so I didn't loose any of my toes. I lived in New Zealand for 8 years, some of the best years of my life. I put myself through university working every crappy job under the sun with little or no contact with anyone from my family. I swam in warm seas, sun burnt under hot skies, and made the longest running friendship of my life.
2. People of the Mist
In 2006 I was in my first year if university studying literature and indigenous studies. I was one of the only white people in my department, I was a blonde and a gay and incredibly outspoken. It wasn't the easiest place to be but it was always interesting. I insisted on doing everything- I was the typical pushy naive white kid and I'm surprised they put up with me so well. That summer I signed up for the school trip; three weeks in the mysterious area known as the Ureweras, if my family had been talking to me I'm pretty sure they would have locked me in a cupboard to stop me from going. The Ureweras are not to be underestimated- populated almost entirely by an indigenous tribe called Tuhoe who traditionally (and quite rightly) reject the rule of the white government imposed on them, it has remained hostile and comparatively less colonised than other areas in New Zealand.
Honestly it was some of the best and most heartbreaking weeks of my life. I don't have the space or the time to tell you all of the amazing things that happened on that trip but I will recount a few of them. There was the old woman, so old in fact that she had heard first hand from her grandmother about the first time her family had ever seen white people, she managed to convey to us the exhilaration of meeting a new people of first encounters the feeling of discovery and potential only to walk us up the hill and point out the fence that cuts the land into pieces, to show us all of the land that stretched to the horizon that was once communally owned by the whole tribe and was now reduced to a tiny square mile patch of raggedy grass. Everything else was now corporate owned farmland. She was unlucky enough to belong to be part of the Tuhoe tribe that lived closer to where the colonists had encroached and they had lost almost everything. However the story changed as we drove deeper and deeper into the forest.
Soon we encountered people who limited their interaction with people like me- people they still referred to as 'colonists' despite the fact, or perhaps because of the fact, my family had been in NZ for over a hundred years. However, I was never treated with anything other than the kindest hospitality, a value which is deeply embedded into Maori culture. I remember when 'Grandad' (a direct translation from the Maori word Koro which is respected elder man) took us for a swim in the river. It was a hot day but the water which came down directly from the snow capped mountains was freezing and most welcome after the long sweaty walk. I remember floating in the slow moving bend of the river and feeling like we were the only people left in the world, there were no planes, no car noises, no telephone pylons, it even smelt clean and everyone was speaking Maori which is a beautiful melodic language that seems to match the dark green landscape perfectly. I felt a few spots of rain water on my face and the mood changed. Koro was calling out to us to come out of the water, I recognised the words 'ka tere, haere mai, ka tere' which means 'come here fast' and everyone was obeying him with alacrity but I didn't understand why. It was cold when I stood up and the air touched my skin so I didn't really want to get out and the sand under my feet seemed to suck at my feet I wasnt really making much of an effort at 'fast'. Koro shouted at me to 'wahine, ka tere!' (hurry up woman) and I waded out a litle more quickly afraid that I was going to offend someone for doing something I didn't understand. Just as I was stepping out onto the bank something sharp caught my foot and when I sat down on the grass blood was pumping out of me.
People looked very uncomfortable. Koro explained to me that when it rains it means that the taniwha are coming (taniwha are like monsters and can be good or bad, often credited with haunting certain places and drowning people, Maori will often say a taniwha lives in a certain place drowning people where there are whirl pools or rip tides) and that the taniwha had bitten me as I was the last one out of the water. I'm not superstitious but I felt the electricity of terror running though me. Perhaps these stories are just a way of explaining the world, its a well known fact that mountain rivers become swollen and are incredibly dangerous when its raining, either way I didn't feel quite right until later that day when everyone had made a group effort to get me drunk (since alcohol cancels out holy, spiritual and magical things in Maori culture)!
I will never forget the Ureweras, the steep hills and mountains shrouded in heavy mists, and covered everywhere in rich green forest like a velvet carpet. I will never forget the hospitality, the smiles, the deep silence punctuated by irreverent laughter. I will always remember the deep injustices recounted to me, the shabby square mile of land that was all that was left of this woman's proud heritage and the humour and resilience that the people bought to their lives.
During the trip our class started passing a nasty cold around and I really didn't want to get it, there were no doctor's surgeries or medical centres up there and definitely no pharmacies! I said to Koro that I was trying really hard not to get sick and he said to me 'let me recount to you some ancient Maori medical survival knowledge' I leaned in close, very excited to be about to receive some ancient wisdom 'If you don't want to get sick, eat heaps, drink heaps, sleep heaps and keep warm'. At the time I was a little bit disappointed but in hindsight its probably some of the best advice I've ever been given!
COMING SOON: Surgery In Thailand, Nurses on Skates, Getting Caught in a Bangkok Riot (and not getting shot), South Korea and the Demilitarised Zone, Going on national television and my five minutes of fame, London Riots (and nearly getting killed), Israel- entering the mens section and being really scared, The West Bank and Illegal Settlements including a bullet proof bus and Debbie Harry sing alongs, Hidden tunnels under Jerusalem, Moving to Sweden, Walking on a Frozen Lake, and more!
Pictures: the green house is where I used to live about thirty seconds away from the beach, and the bench is 'my bench' where I would sit most days before climbing the steep path to my house.
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