I hope to describe this as best as I can so I can get a visual in your mind. Some of these occurances are just too splendid to go unshared. All are snippets of writing from two different days so it will be mildly chronologically disordered. As I type now, I lay in my bunk bed at the Raglan Backpackers. I live in, what we call here, The Penthouse. Don’t let the name fool you. Remember I am still a traveler and by no means can afford to rent a penthouse, but by giving it this name it encourages imagination and further draws away from the fact that I live in a shed. But this is no ordinary shed. It is fully furnished with a bunk bed, shelving, a lamp, a mirror, and a heater nestled in amongst the kayaks and the surfboards in the back area of the backpacker. Needless to say, I fell in love with Raglan.
After a week of being a paying customer here and enjoying my time and friends so much, I decided it best to start working here for my room and surfboard rental. Being given employee status, I promoted my way into the Penthouse where I get space to myself and some further advantages to being a staff member. Tim and Suz are the owners of this lovely establishment and we get along like peaches and cream. Maybe more like peaches and ice cream. I much prefer my peaches with ice cream. They are incredibly hospitable and always have the time of day to have a game of bocci ball with you or watch you do crazy acrobatic party tricks in the kitchen. For example: Aart, a Dutch man who is trained in furniture making and an experienced rock climber, once proclaimed to the kitchen audience that he could climb over the kitchen table and then under and back on top without touching the ground. Easy as it sounds, and as easy as he made it look, it is not. We all took our turns trying to swing ourselves from one end to the other but few succeeded. All I succeeded to do was obtain a gigantic dark blue bruise on my inner thigh. No pain no gain right? Or in this case just pain. So Tim watched one sunny afternoon as Aart made his way around the table, applauded astonishingly, and went back, laughing, to his work.
Suz takes 2 hours out of her work days a few times a week to give free yoga classes in the back house. I join in most days as after 2 hours of stretching your body in smooth motions really feels great come the end of the day. We finish up the session with a cup of local organic tea and a sauna. Yeah, they have a sauna here too which comes in very handy after a cold day of surfing. As for my surfing, it’s coming along. I am definitely getting more confident in the bigger waves, and have graduated to a smaller hard top board which allows you to catch bigger waves and experience a whole other world of surfing. Today however, the waves were very unforgiving. After a great day of surfing yesterday and catching few, but really quality waves, I suppose I was a little cocky getting back in the water today. The waves were much bigger and coming in one right after the other. I break through the white ones and attempt swimming out to the bigger swell. I even attempted duckdiving them. Baby steps Ashley. Baby steps. The wave crashed on my face and board and threw me for a whirl. Board up and out and a tap on my head. Ouch. Not a good start to the surfing day but I trucked on. By now though I was already angry at the waves for being so difficult, I was pretty much a lost cause. They gave me a good turning with the washing machine effect they tend to have when you go underwater. I was dripping salt water from my nose for over an hour after the surf. The air and even the water was cold through my full-bodied wet suit and mixed with the water torment I didn’t stay too long. The waves will be mine, oh yes, they will be mine.
So my job here at the backpackers is evening hostess. I check in weary travelers and show them around this great little community inside the courtyard and I take care of the place come evening. An Irishman named Maurice is the other night host. Between the two we share the shifts throughout the week. Besides checking people in and making them feel welcome, my checklist of chores for the night could include anything from rinsing wetsuits, starting up the fireplace, folding tea towels, making piÒatas. Wait. Making piÒatas? Yes, my job duty one night was to make a piÒata. You can’t beat that for a work task. So I mixed up the paste, blew up the balloon and paper mached away. It sits now by the fire drying, awaiting to be painted into a penguin on a surfboard that will be used for tomorrow night’s Pizza Pinata Party.
For Raglan itself, this town really has energy. It reminds me a lot of Charlottetown, but smaller, as it has enormous creative output and artistry of all natures. The people have a willingness to be friendly to all living things and to share their talents with one another. A further example, I took a pottery class last Saturday put on by a woman who does her pottery as a hobby and wanted to share her knowledge and love to those who were interested. There were 8 of us huddled over our pottery wheels for the whole day, learning, playing, and eventually making great looking dishes and pieces of art. The money we paid for the class went not to the woman who taught it, but to the Raglan Arts Center, which seems to make this place go round. The Arts Center is also home to the farmer’s market that occurs every two weeks and acts as a venue for local famers, cooks, jewelry makers, singers, and the best pesto to ever be concocted. Even on a rainy day the smiles from the faces all around create sunshine. And again, I fell in love with Raglan.
After my pottery class that day, I took the drive to Hamilton to pick up my friend Alex at the bus station. He had a week off from work at Puka Park and wanted to go somewhere fun and decided to join me in Raglan. I was welcomed with a Belgian beer shoved into my hand as we reunited, knowing damn well how sick both of us were of shitty New Zealand beer, and savored the taste. Alex had a great time and we all did lots of surfing, food making, laughing, and meeting new faces, and tomfoolery. Another great person I’ve met is Pam, from Winnepeg. We bonded the moment we spotted each other’s Canadian accent. She’s a temporary resident of Raglan and works at the backpacker as well. We’ve concluded that we both have a less easier time making friends with girls than guys. But we’ve concluded that the girl friends we have are the coolest. And that by far the coolest girls come from Canada. So yeah, we rock ladies! Pam lives with 4 French people and with the addition of Alex and Miaca, a Quebecois, we had a shit load of French in the house. We all partied together one night and most of the conversation was in French. And I understood almost of all it and joined in when I knew the appropriate words. I was really proud of myself and want to speak more and more. I’ve now begun practicing while I take a shower.
Last night I painted my piÒata. It’s a penguin on a surfboard and it’s damn funny. When he dried I took pictures of him having fun at the backpacker by placing him on an actual surfboard, in the hammock, and in the sauna. Tim saw him in the morning and no longer wants to bash the piÒata open for lollies. We will keep him and make him our mascot. Is this not too much fun? Seriously, I think it’s all about having fun. The great people I’ve met and conversed with, we have all had the same thing to say: that why shouldn’t life be this simple? We all realize that yes, at home, where we are from is totally different than this. Often more complicated. But why should it? Life can be so great if you keep things simple and open. When things are simple it allows you to have more time to do those things you loved as a child. And me thinks that is what everyone strives to achieve. Or would like to think. You can paint, play on the swings, make music, write poems, ask “why?” one thousand times. Endless possibilities.
So as I would like to pray what I preach, I will leave at this for now and continue to knit a pair of mittens by the fireplace while sipping a cup o’ tea. Oh who am I kidding, I don’t drink tea.
Love.
