My Introverted New Zealand

There's always a first for everything, they say.

New Zealand, - much alike this post - was a trip of many firsts. With unfamiliar faces to unfamiliar places.

Where the previous two summers sowed and nurtured, this trip harvested my love for adventure; the mystery of nature and photography blossomed.

To this particular day, my mind subconsciously frequents. This particular day, never will I forget.

Remains sequestered in my heart; I fell in love, this particular day.

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After a 3-hour trip from the Capital, we arrived at the humble, NorthEast outskirts of the island.

Exhausted, I walked through the entrance of On the Beach Backpackers Hostel. Greeted by the host, I was redirected to a free upgrade: private, double-ensuite room - kitchen, living space, porch, TV, beach-front view included! If beach-front view wasn't already enough, this was almost too much!

Delighted, I plucked a map and activities guide from the shelf and hurried my way to my new room for the next 3 days.

Wifi availability was sparse, cell phone services not enabled, public transportation (aside from the local ferry) inaccessible, population density diminutive, social interactions unplugged, thoughts unpersuaded, and my heart contented.

First up, the grocery store. With the destination marked on the map and loosely imprinted in mind, I was anything but hurried - I meandered, almost aimlessly. I detoured to the palm trees where my toes submerged under the foreign grains of sand, through the side streets and back alleyways, into the local's fresh-caught fish&chips (where I would later return for supper).

Then finally, the local grocer.

It was drizzling, cold and growing dark on the way back. It was a 35-minute walk; 35 amazing minutes. By the time my keys were in the lock, my shoes were wet, my hair soaked, a plastic bag had ripped and my arms were burning.

I couldn't help but smile. It's been long since my desire to live an unhurried life of simplicity - a simplicity constituted by an existence within and interaction with the organically complex.

A simplicity that exercises original purpose; one that serves in opposition to the devices which unnecessarily shield the organic from organic elements - robbing the organic from its intended exposure for growth, relocating it to an otherwise inorganic environment. An on-foot round-trip journey to the grocer is an example of such simplicity.

I picked up dinner - a large piece of fresh fish and some home-made chips for a humble price. With chips in one hand and fish in the other I walked down the street, found a bench and sat under the palm trees. All that was to be heard were the waves aggressively drumming onto Buffalo Beach while I watched the canvas of the sky gradually splash with varying colours. I had lost track of time, yet the realization of such reality was strangely un-alarming.

I lit a candle, grabbed a DVD and hit play.

The next morning, after breakfast and some consultation with the host, I embarked on one of the few most incredible journeys to date.

Sunshine.

A man with his dog in a kayak.

A short ferry ride to an untrodden beach.

A trail up to Shakespeare's cliff then a hike and a rock climb.

An uninformative sign led to a scenic hike along the edge where earth met the ocean.

A dance along the stretch of an empty beach.

A frolic through the crashing waves. A group of shark-like fins.

A pod of dolphins by the shore.

A hundred and eighty minutes later : A pair of thumbs.

Here initiates my first ever series of Hitch Hiking.

Unassuming.

Ten minutes: a local couple.

Twenty minutes: two male German travellers in a white Volkswagen.

A double date on beach number three.

Farewell.

Fifteen Minutes: a mother-daughter duo in an almost hippie van.

Four glowsticks & a fork in the road.

Left again on foot, I traversed the more than rural country side highway. The sun high in the sky; cars now few and far between. Enroute, the following hundred and fifty minutes of being lost is indescribable.

Overwhelmed by the infinite amount of natural stimulant, worries were non-existent, loneliness wasn't a feeling to be entertained. Walking along the quiet and breathtakingly beautiful edge of Coromandel Peninsula, I found myself frozen for minutes, attempting to comprehend organic beauty - that in which I was surrounded in. Suddenly, the uncertainty of my exact whereabouts accompanied by the consequential mild anxiety was replaced. As the temperature increased, my shirt hung, instead, around my neck & shoes in my hand.

Lost on the road.

Bushes, fields and infinite greens to my left, obstacles of bushes and greens to the infinite layers of blue to my right. Between hitch hiking and hours of walking, Hot Water Beach was finally in sight.

Now it was a matter of another few hours until the sun set enough for the science behind hot water beach to manifest itself into practical application.

I arrived at the south side of the beach. The temperature now proving to be a nearly unbearable coldness. The beach barren; not a single person in sight. Needing to venture to the north side of the beach, here was the first near-death incident of the trip.

The sand bank thinned. Large bouldered, weathered, eroded, and creviced rocks created for a maze. Paths were clear - but only briefly - between the rushed and unrhythmic cycles of crashing waves. The waves were violent, the rock orientation caused incredible turbulences. Watching the waves for a few minutes, my heart raced. Do I risk this? If the waves caught me, my cranium would without a doubt be cracked open against the rocks. Should I walk another forty-five minutes around the perimeter of the park instead?

The waves barely subsided, I imprinted the anticipated upcoming pattern of waves and without a hesitation in thought, I disappeared into the shadows between those rocks. Knowing I had no margin for a misstep or even a shortened stride before fatal disaster, I heard nothing but my heavy breathing, the coming waves and the seconds I counted out loud - seven seconds to my death. The last of the seven seconds caught my left foot, my last step. In desperation, I leapt toward safety - potential injury now seemingly insignificant. Landing on my feet, I looked back, the last seven seconds a blur.

I now stand knee deep in the delightfully, unending blue waves stretching infinitely into the distant storm. Exhilaratingly free, I stood, waiting for nothing. The time froze.

The skies now shadowed. People began to arrive. They brought shovels; buckets. People dug; pools of water formed. Other people watched.

It was freezing.

How am I ever going to get home?

A warm hand on my left shoulder. I turned around. A large, warm, comforting blanket for two now around me. A warm, unforgettable smile; sparkle in the eyes.

What follows remains to be untold.

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In every way imaginable, my horizons expanded, heart lost, love grew, passion deepened, preferences simplified, understanding complexed, and nature persisted in its consistency of static dynamics.

Needless to say, this small, quiet, rural town whose day-in, day-out operations echoing that of the less connected, less advanced, on-the-way-to-extinction generations in its organic setting is where my heart was freed.

Safe, at last. Storm in the distance. Hot Water Beach, Mercury Bay, Coromandel Peninsula, New Zealand.