Adventures of a World Traveler

Sunset over the harbour in Raglan

After the trip through the Waitomo Caves the group loaded up into the van and drove off to Raglan for the evening.  We ended up staying at an amazingly cool, chill, SoCal backpackers. It was a mini paradise.

After walking around the town (which took only 15 minutes as it is quite small), Kristi, Mike, and I headed to the beach (harbour) to enjoy the evening and the sand and be lazy.

Hey Kristi.

We’re in sweats and going surfing the next day…… ummmm…

We ate a big pasta dinner with the Arcadia group and watched Whale Rider, a Maori movie about a little girl who was supposed to be a boy – that boy was supposed to be the next cheif of the tribe.  Her grandfather (the current cheif) ignores all the signs, Tapu (sacredness) is broken, and it all leads to a very dramatic end.  Pike (Pie-key) is the chosen one.  Good movie.  After that it was off to bed!

We were allowed to sleep in until 8 this morning, but for some reason everyone set their alarms for 7 and the room had gone from “sweating hot” to “ice-cube cold”.  Needless to say, I was a bit upset at both of these factors.  My tolerance level for the day was not very high.  After breakfast and cleanup we ventured off to the surfing school.

The surfing instructors were a bit…. like surfers. Very chill aka: a bit unorganized.  (BusComm heart attack. Ah.)  And the lesson bit was given by a man whose English skills were a little less than understandable.  We discussed the proper way to hold the board, get on the board, waves, how waves and tides are created (I said the moon, but he said the ripple effect of a rock…. ok. Goodbye science classes), and the creation of rip tides.

Another 30 minutes after the instructors got themselves together, we finally made it to the proper surf beach and after a few practice tries, off we went.

Hold onto the board.
Pull yourself forward.
Make sure your toenails touch the tail of the board.
Paddle.
Push yourself up.
Bring your strong leg up first.
Then your direction leg.

Easy peasy.

WRONG.

Of the zillions of times I tried to stand up, it just wasn’t happening.  I ended up tasting more salt water than I did air.  Toppling over and off the surf board.  The surf board slipping away from me and dragging me back to shore.  It was like boogie boarding (which I have a low tolerance for) but a bit harder (since you aren’t just riding on the wave simply on your belly).

I think I was able to properly stand 3 times for 3 seconds each. 

I guess I’m sounding ungrateful.  It was fun for a bit.  But towards the end, I just had that “I’m done” mindset.  I’ll try anything once, but I just didn’t find anything appealing about standing on a board.  Hey, to each their own. And practice makes perfect. Yadda Yadda Yadda. I’m more of a sit on a towel in the sand, take a bike ride on the beach with my brother, take a walk with my brother, swim a few miles parallel the beach with my brother, kinda girl.  Something about salt and being sticky doesn’t appeal to me.

But hey, I took this as best I could and it was fine.  Would I surf again?  Possibly.  Is it a must do next time I go to the beach? No.

View from Surf Lesson place.

After a quick rinse off, we traversed home.  YAY.  Time for a clean shower and a nap!

The view for about 2 hours.

The Maere were Maori Kings and Queens are burried.
And various other famous people…

Now I’m back at Whitaker, wrote an 800 word essay on Samuel Marsden, an English Missionary who came to NZ in 1814, and his critique of Thomas Kendall, another missionary who participated in illegal musket trade to Maori.  The essay material seemed boring at first but turned into a “Marsden is a Hypocrite who is indirectly responsible for the Musket Massacre of the 1820s” paper.  Its interesting comparing the various sources. Dates sometimes don’t match by a few months, different people sent people away… etc. 

And now it is time for bed.

Pictures of me wiping out to come I spose.  Again, whenever I get the disk for it.

Peace.