Part II: 11.5 + hour Busride

The flight from LA was wretched. The bus trip from Auckland to Wellington was wonderful. If one only could see it: Mountains, half covered with pines, the other barren, ridged, covered (in most spots) with sheep. Volcanic activity creates such spectacular vistas completely unique, completely different from subduction of tectonic plates. The mountains themselves spit up from the ground to pointed steep peaks, seemingly high, though in fact large hills. First, Kelsey shot no pictures. Neither did I shoot, as it would have proved too awkward, unless followers wanted shots of crummy rest/truck stops where the bus stopped. Secondly, Kelsey slept a lot, but was saddened to see, when lucid (yuk yuk), clear cut forest. Yet I pointed out the pines victimized, once out of the way, made room for the palms, ferns, other native flora, left untouched, to regenerate the forest. At least this is my hope, though, NZ being populated by humans, the regeneration will most likely not occur. Again saddened, Kelsey was happy to see all the sheep, goats, horses, and cows (dairy and beef) mulling in the fields together, sheep and cow alike, chewing on the sod between each others’ legs, until I elucidated upon the seclusion of the lambs in their own enclosures, away from the other woolly herds. Regrettable yes, but interesting: we saw the herds. I witnessed only a few, smaller corn fields (easily under ten) and maybe two or three smaller yet soybean fields. The animals were allowed to graze out upon the fields, instead of corralled, eating the grains grown instead of the grazing grasses. Maybe it is easier to keep them penned instead of rotating, inject drugs into their flesh instead of inserting fence pole into the earth. Unfortunate to sound negative, but I guess just look at the lipids floating in the frying pan, the opaque napkins in one’s hand, the thick line of fat surrounding our hearts, not allowing us to feel badly these animals do not feel the sun on their bodies nor the grass under their hooves, and when they are to say as Kelsey said (when at the café stop with accompanying sheep and chooks):
They [the sheep] are panting. When I have sheep they’ll have a ton of open grass and big trees to rest under. (ed. note, hanging prepositions aside…)
As we cut through jagged mountain carves, to steep crevasses cut by rushing rivers, and back up to see a lake expansive as sea, then up, up, up, up, and steeply back down, I care not how slowly we travel. I ponder first why are there all these TAB signs, man I hope TAB is beer over here (ed. Note: it is a betting location, i.e. horse racing, rugby, etc., located in bars or their own facilities, as far as I have noticed). It was cheap in a filled double-decker, mayhaps because it is slower.
Cheers!
Much love,
Micah, with lots ‘o’ help from his lovely assistant

Part I: Waiheke Island

This shall be short. I really do not consider the experience WWOOFing, though it felt enriching. I could hear myself saying “I can be painting in Michigan and be paid.” Kels loved the food. Really loved the food, especially the homegrown honey (really really really LOVED THE BEES). Although, she’s happy to go a little while without porridge for breakfast. The views were spectacular, though traversing through traversing through the North Island, I got the impression everywhere will present the same aspect. The host family was very warm, and extremely accommodating, though, we got bit to pieces in the caravan. SPIDERS!

directions

Hey all. We are getting used to the blog, and how the postings work. For now, we can post pictures on the bottom of the page, so there they will stay!
Cheers!

Waiheke, Trip Post #1

January 20. Day 2.
Waiheke Island: mid tourist season. This means lots of Australians, and, from what I gather, they are assholes. Akin to Michiganders’ view of Ohioans. First, a view while scaling down the cliff in Onetangi on our way to the water. We sat amongst the rocks and watched the surf roll in, splash, then gurgle back out to sea. High, hot sun burnt our winter skin. Next, a picture of a palm plant growing in a nook of a deciduous tree while walking in the tree and bird reserve.
Kevin, the real estate agent, mentions rural Queensland, a “bushtown,” where we must go. He says go during winter, it’s too hot now, like fifty, and will be more like 25, and there will be work. He gives us a name, and contact info. Though he has tattoos up his arm, he’s known for his genuine honesty, and we are happy to see him come again with pats on the back, and hugs for Kelsey.

Alive, for now, and well in Waiheke Island. Internet spotty, so pictures will be coming soon.

I was playing pool with a friend for the last time. As the evening concluded, and we left, a stun gun was pulled on one of our compatriots, with whom the villain had never interacted.
A stun gun.
As we head out, I hope to bring you more than pictures of us frolicking in picturesque landscapes, and with posts reading: "Here we are in this great national forests, that had these great waterfalls, and we had so much fun. Does your life seem really unfulfilled right now. hehehehe-hahahaha."
Well, expect the last part. Lots of the last part.