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Published: March 11th 2009
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Traveling alone is not a lonely as it may appear at first glance. Solo travel opens you to a whole new realm of options simply not possible when you are traveling with another person. I am now two months into my New Zealand trip, and I have only spent one of those 60 days by myself.
Two weeks ago, I waved goodbye to the North Island from the deck of the ferry and settled down with a book as the sea swept us along the three hour journey to the South Island. Not five pages into reading, and already another traveler had plopped himself down next to me and started making conversation. My new friend's name was Christian, and
would I like to come with him to dinner at a friend's place tonight?. A second-timer to New Zealand, my new German friend (yes, yes, I know, another German) was traveling around in a colorful airbrushed camper van visiting old friends. I couldn't help but seize the opportunity for a free ride over to the hippie colony of Golden Bay, one of the most beautiful spots in New Zealand, which is accessible only by climbing an imposing 800meter mountain; something I was
not going to attempt by bike.
Christian helped me load my bicycle into his camper van, and then off we went, winding down the coastal track with panoramic views of the strange
Sounds formations floating in turquoise waters.
On the car ride there, Christian told me how he is a Diamond Way Buddhist, a sect of Tibetan Buddhism founded by a Danish guy with bleached white hair, orange tanned skin and a crazy smile (I saw the brochure). Christian put it simply: "We're party Buddhists", he said. Diamond Way Buddhism is like a bridge between Eastern and Western thought, translating many of the Buddha's teachings into a way of life that Westerners can accept. Apparently it has an international following, mostly in Germany. We were on our way to visit the home of a couple who was part of the Christchurch branch of Diamond Way, whom Christian had met during his last trip to New Zealand.
We stopped off at a cafe in the trendy tourist town of Nelson and debated theology over our foamy lattes before continuing up the mountain pass. Again, nature impressed us with its effortless splendor, producing heavy rain on one side of the mountain and
sunshine on the other. As the road delivered us into Golden Bay, a rainbow formed over the mountains. That same evening, after a lovely home-grown vegetarian meal, as Christian and I stood outside admiring the billions of stars, a bright shooting star streaked its way across the sky right in front of us, bringing a perfect end to a perfect day.
Christian's friends, our hosts, were a lovely European couple whom immigrated to Golden Bay ten years prior. They immediately fell in love with the tight knit hippie community and natural magnetism of the area. Within three days of arriving, they bought property on a hill and set to building their home and terraced gardens. I envied their beautiful home with bay windows overlooking the Tasman Sea, their productive gardens, and their self-sufficiency. But land was cheaper in New Zealand a decade ago, and now the land that these hippies once got for nearly nothing is worth millions of dollars.
The next morning, we waved goodbye to our gracious hosts, and went tramping along to some local waterfalls on one end of the coast, and to Wharariki Beach on the other. Wharariki Beach, located on the northern tip of Golden
Bay, is one of the most out of reach places in all New Zealand. But the effort it takes to get there leaves none disappointed. A natural wonder, this bizarre beach is littered with slabs of massive shipwrecked boulders, worn down by wind and sea into abstract shapes. I was told that this place, due to its remoteness, is also nicknamed,
The End of the World, a fitting title, I think. We spent the rest of the afternoon strolling along the edge of the world, getting windblown and watching seals play in the Tasman Sea.
Christian was kind enough to drop me in Nelson, were he was to continue onward to Christchurch for a friend's wedding. From there, I had an easy morning's ride into the famous Marlborough wine region, which has been leading New Zealand in wine production since one lone farmer decided to try his hand at grapes thirty years ago. The climate here is the sunniest in New Zealand and said to be simillar to France or Italy, allowing those old world varieties of grapes to grow with ease. In fact, grapes grow so well here that in the past two seasons, farmers have had to 'drop'
their grapes (let part of the yield rot on the ground) or simply dump their excess wine to prevent the surplus from effecting world market costs.
I came to Marlborough to volunteer at the last wwoofing place on my scheduled trip, an organic farm run by a viticulturalist named Tony. Tony is one of the original hosts with the wwoofing organization, and has been taking in travelers since the late eighties. He's kind of a jack-of-all-trades, and as he's been in the area since the first vineyards plowed their fields, he's on a first name basis with most of the wineries. Primarily, he does vine grafting for vineyards and nurseries, and grows sheep and other animals from time to time on the side. When it's harvesting season, his neighbors give him a share of the yield, which he plays around with making his own wine.
In addition to home wine making, I also got a chance to learn how to brew beer, something I definitely want to make into a regular hobby when I get back home.
After a few hour's work each day, we chose from one of over fifty wineries in the area to spend the afternoon sampling
crisp sauvignon blancs and creamy merlots. My favorite wine tasting was at Villa Maria, a newer place run by a bubbly young girl from Oregon and her kiwi husband. There I learned how to properly swirl my glass, understand the complex world of aromas and flavors, and discover things like 'oak finishes' and 'spicy undertones'. In case you're keen on picking up a bottle of kiwi wine the next time you're in the store, the specialty of the Marlborough region is white wine, particularly sauvignon blanc, as those are the grapes that grow best here. Unfortunately, New Zealand being a newcomer to the wine making game, comprises only 0.2% of the world's wine market and so it might be a little hard to come by.
My evenings once again became dedicated to strolls around the country; this time the landscape on offer being endless rows of vines blanketing the gently sloped hills in all directions while the higher and barren Wither Hills resigned softly into the background.
The other thing I got to do a lot of at Tony's was make juice and preserves. Tony's apple trees are so bountiful that the branches bend toward the ground under the weight.
We collected two wheelbarrow-fuls of apples that we lying on the ground to juice, while the nicer ones from the trees we steamed into apple sauce. I liked to give the more severely damaged ones to the adorable sheep, but Tony would remind me not to get too attached as his herd is soon destined for the freezer. Tony, like many of the other farmers I've stayed with in New Zealand, is of the opinion that growing organic is actually less expensive and more effortless that growing with chemicals. I've asked these farmers why they think then that organic food in the stores is so dearly priced, and why don't all commercial farmers grow organic if it is so simple to do so. But just one look at the delicious yet imperfect produce growing in the gardens gives you your answer: the average consumer has a certain expectation about what they want their apples and carrots to look like, and simple organic farming cannot meet those expectations. We've been trained to think that all of our apples must be polished and spotless, that every carrot in the bag be the same size. Until the consumer changes, the way our food
is grown will not.
Well, as they say, pictures are worth a thousand words, so please view:
Lisa's Flickr for a more complete look into the goings on of New Zealand.
Cheers!
Lisa
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