Sea hags and smelly goats
January 15, 2006Ruby Bay, New Zealand
9:39pm
Ok maybe every other day I will post. Actually the last 36 hours was pretty jammed pack for the Graham/White trio. We attended a Teddy Bear Picnic on Saturday afternoon, which if I sing the corresponding song correctly, it is impossible to sound more gay. Hud went on the small train and played on the playground equipment. Pretty standard stuff, although I noticed there were a number of women that looked like Sea Hag from the old Popeye cartoons. You know the one, she had a crooked nose that almost met her ball-like chin, she would squint and talk out the side of her mouth embedded with exactly no teeth. This look is usually pulled off by women who have drank and smoked for a long time. I am talking well past the sit on the corner bar stool, hey sailor, cougar stage. They usually have a couple of kids, not necessarily from the same man, which I know only because the race of the children are not the least bit similar. They stand off from the main crowd, unleashing their mulleted, rat tailed children on the rest of the throng, while they sneak a butt, talking to anyone who will listen with a voice deeper then Barry White after a big hit off a bong. They wear midriff baring shirts with a ripple of flesh bulging over their too short black shorts. On their calve, or above their breast is usually a tattoo of a scary lion or an attacking tiger, or maybe a butterfly for the softer sea hag set. They are harmless when sober, which thankfully at the Teddy Bear Picnic they all appeared to be. My embellishments here are only mild, so don’t hate me because I spout the truth. I do hope there was someone watching me taking in all my physical detriments and recording it later chuckling to themselves. I can take it.
After the picnic we returned home for only a brief stop over as we were off to a Kiwi barbeque Steph got us invited to by one of the PlayCentre moms. We drove about 20kms into the country before finding the turnoff by the old sawmill. We waved to Huck and Tom painting the fence on the way in. The host couple lived on an apple orchard, right on the bank of the Motueka River. We pulled our old car next to another old car and were greeted by Bridget, the soft eyed, sun wrinkled woman who invited us to this little get together. It became quickly apparent that these people are not really hippies, but rural folk who grow all their own produce and wildflowers and herbal teas. Bridget and Ross have four boys, all under the age of 10, the youngest of which is the playmate of Hud at the PlayCentre. She asked how my book was going and I lied and told her everything was going fine. She asked what I did back home and I told her, which made her immediately throw up in her mouth saying it was her idea of hell. I went to argue and then stopped, remembering I agreed with her, although was still mildly offended at the level of her disgust. Her husband Ross came over and we shook hands. He had a good mustache and talked like a gruff Kiwi, and had a rough and tumble, I eat my own livestock swagger. He rolled his own Drum smokes and told tales of killing stinky billy goats on camping trips and not being allowed back in the tents.
More people arrived, about ten people in total, with about 15 kids running all over the property. There were apple trees to left of us, and the large Motueka guarded by trees and bush to the right. Hud loved every minute, running with the older kids, catching crickets with the younger ones, climbing up and down old apple crates, taking turns swinging on old hammock, all of course in bare feet. This country was built for kids.
We sat around and jumped into conversations when needed. I talked to an Australian guy named Andy. He was bald as well, heavy set as well, and we chatted about a number of things including my novel (he dabbled in writing) and his reason for leaving his cushy job in Oz. We compared values and principles and laughed a little at bad jokes. I liked him best of all, although everyone was very pleasant. There was Chris and Brett, a Brit and a South African with two daughters, one three, the other just a baby. They run a coffee cart that travels all over the region working fairs and markets. Sarah was there with her three year old, telling us the reason why her son limped is because her goats were being too aggressive with him and may have to kill them soon, although they are a little young for killing. Another couple arrived later, and I shook his hand but forgot his name. His grip was strong, I think he was Dutch. Heather, another woman from Steph’s playcentre arrived with her two kids, and no one said hi to her, making me think that she was not really well liked. She had a really bad mullet. Maybe that’s why.
At certain points I just listened to all these people chat about farming and what was coming in well this year, if anyone wanted extra wild chamomile, who kills and chops up their pigs, it was all very interesting. They were all so grounded and real and weird in their own bucolic way. They did not seem to care about anything city; in fact Bridget and her clan were camping on their land even though their house was about 400 metres away. She only went home to do laundry as she refused to wash clothes by hand. These are real simple living kind of folk. Another notch in the New Zealand experience belt. On the way back we stopped at Kina Beach to see the full moon hover over the ocean.
Today we just hung out in the morning before heading off to the Motueka market where I needed to buy cheap sunglasses.
After, we went up to Kaiteriteri Beach for some sun and fun. The tide was on its way out, creating quite a fast little rapid as it drains out all the estuaries surrounding the beach. Hud is so water confident now. We have to watch he does not jump in places where he cannot touch. We sledged the rapids together while Steph watched from shore. Good fun.
Tomorrow we will meet and greet the people moving into the upper cottage. Our hosts are away for four days and asked if we could take care of their place for them. The new people are from Toronto as well, a professor at York or something like that.
They are probably pale and cynical.
It will be fun to watch them change.
Love to all,
J.
posted by Jason @ 1:28 AM
<< Home