Author: KandE

Morning Magpie


by KandE

My journal has remained open to the next fresh sheet for a full 30 minutes. I want to write. Or sketch. Or pen a letter. Or pick up Grimms’ Fairy Tales lying nearby, or the stack of Trivial Pursuit cards to entertain myself. But this sweet little window seat, tucked in the very corner of this cafe, is inherently enough. I’m taking in every picture perfect detail, taking sips while I shift my gaze to people watch.

The barista, with one properly waxed mustachio in place, serves up delicate rosettas in eclectic 70’s china. Bare bulbs encased in Mason jars hang suspended, illuminating the mismatched seats at the oversized, Thanksgiving table.
Quirky, campy art adorns the walls in a stylized collage–
Sparrows cross stitched upon a sprig of reg blossoms.
A watercolor of the family dog stuffed into an astronaut’s suit.
Plenty of old fashioned ships with high, white sails to blow lazily through the space.
A Mary Poppins lamp and a vintage record player complete the look, with a geranium red radiator to keep our eyes cozy in the corner.

This place is a hipster’s paradise, just waiting to be Instagrammed.
And with that: it’s earned it’s rightful place, inducted into my list of Happy Places & Beautiful Spaces.
Hurrah!

-K

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Riverton


by KandE

Nothing lasts
Nothing is finished
Nothing is perfect

Wabi- sabi represent Japanese aesthetics and world view centered on the acceptance of transience and imperfection. The aesthetic is sometimes described as one of beauty that is “imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete”.

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-K

Cascake Creek


by KandE

Eric is sitting naked on the potty, giving himself a sponge bath out of a saucepan. But don’t worry: he’s not using the toilet; it just makes for a good stool. (I have been waiting AGES to use that one! I can hear Momma H giving her sarcastic HA. HA. all the way from Minnesota.)

And so our exploration into the world of bathing continues! I must say, too may nurse and soldier scenes in WWII flicks have led me to believe a sponge bath was a far more romantic, intimate experience. (THANKS, Hollywood.) Working with our particular set of spatial constraints, however, kneeling on all fours so Eric can soap my back, it felt like a rather confused, comic version of washing the family dog. We don’t ordinarily bathe in our cookware, but as the 70th car to enter the campsite (no joke) our options were rather limited following our sweaty hike in the woods.

But OH, the hike! It was lovely enough to warrant the most awkward of bathing conditions! I felt more like a nymph in a fairytale forest than a sweaty American in pigtails, laced into a pair of electric blue Adidas. A clear sign of my level of enchantment can be based upon my greeting to fellow hikers. My hellos this afternoon were as sweet as they were sincere as the trail wound deeper into a denser wood.

Spanish moss hung from above in lazy ribbons like the limp wrist of a elegant woman with a cigarette. Ancient trees spread their roots across our path, giant sized piano keys creeping across the forest floor. The late afternoon sun skimmed the very tips of the treetops as we leapt from boulders strewn by streams, to narrow dirt pathways decorated with pale blossoms, newly fallen. To the left and right, banks covered in soft moss, lush as birthday cake frosting, looking on in approval. We were creatures of that enchanted moment, of that enthralling place.

-K

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^ Our reward at the end of our dazzling traipse through the forest: Lake Marian. She’s a jewel, with clear glacial water bordered on all sides by protective peaks, dusted with snow. It was also the perfect opportunity to meditate on what a beautiful family I’ve been blessed with, thinking on both Grandma Marian and Grandma Luana, and the special children they both raised. Love you, Momma and Poppa H! :*

Te Anau


by KandE

Today’s game: musical chairs.

If one was to drop into the Kimberly & Eric show this afternoon midway through our program, one might come to the conclusion that it was instead solitaire. However, you would be mistaken, dear viewer, for lonely card games were simply a way for our damsel in distress to while away the time, waiting for the hero to finish the necessary vehicular repairs.

And just like that: Tada! The van is once again on the fritz.

But why musical chairs?
Excellent question, oh clever observer.

Our 1993 Hiace has no traditional hood that precedes the body and bulk of the van. The brains at Toyota decided to hide it beneath both diver and passenger seat to economize on space + heat our buns. The current problem: buns aburnin’ too hot + a needle on the dash pointing all the way flush with that ominous, red H.

And so:
We drive.
We pull over.
We futz and fiddle.
We buckle back in and cross our fingers it’s cool enough to continue.

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Me, I’m not much bothered. I sit in the back in my place of comfortable dislocation, a pack of cards keeping me company. I lost every single round I attempted (Vegas style: not for the faint of heart) however, Eric ultimately succeeded in his mission and effectively saved the day. Hooray! Sir boyfriend wins this round!

-K

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^ Cruising down the highway, we passed a cheesery. UH HUH.

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^ Cheesery / WINERY. UhHUH,uhHUH,uhHUH.

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^ Stud.

 

Queenstown


by KandE

It was small, sable colored, with flecks of carrot contained within. I smelled it before I saw it, meaning I had to spend a good 15 minutes later scouring it from the bottom of the my shoe. What a pity it was, for I had just dragged Eric over to my newfound playground, extolling the virtues of my perfect tree climbing tree. I had just set about with a demonstration, newest novel in hand, when it happened. “SOMEONE TOOK A SHIT IN THIS TREE.” And so you have it.

I sort of hate Queenstown already for the little I’ve managed to see of it. It seems to attract a high level of douche, inviting the kind of 18yearold boys who might dare one another to drop a deuce in an otherwise perfectly idyllic lakeside campsite. Combined with a massive, milling population of self righteous pedestrians, and the asshole in the beanie that awarded us with such a casual, almost graceful middle flick, I’m under the impressing that this place just isn’t for me.

Gimme solitude. Gimme the van. Gimme a  hike with a view and I’m satisfied. (And as long as Eric promises not to take a dump in any trees, he can come too.)

-K

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^ Our pretty, little defiled campsite on Lake Hayes. One of my favorites yet despite the unfortunate incident. Making myself feel better with a glass of wine, using the camp chair instead for my new perch.

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^ Viewpoint from our most challenging hike yet: Mt. Alfred. My thighs deserve lots of ice cream and chocolate cake after that one. Also: CHECK THAT STAFF! We picked up a couple along the way to wave around like Gandalf and pole vault over muddy creeks.

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^ Mt. Alfred from the ground + from 1375 meters up.

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^ Making out on a mountain top. INTO IT! Activities not pictured: munching on a quinoa wrap + yoga at the top. Getting into the swing of this van living.

Birthday!


by KandE

My demands have been modest and few today. Yes, I require an extra piece of salami on my sandwich! Yes, a shower is necessary even if it is cold! Yes, I need some chocolate and glass of milk!

Side note: The cold shower was voluntary on my behalf. I’m getting accustomed to bathing in conditions far more frigid, being thankful for cleanliness however it comes, and I figured saving my $5 for 5 minutes of hot water was a worthy sacrifice.

Now as I sit here in the passenger seat, newly parked at our campsite for the night, I’m eagerly awaiting my girlfriend gift as Eric makes the bed. BIRTHDAY FOOT MASSAGE! Bless that boy for making me feel special all day, every day. He has wished me a HBD 6 times today. Three were before breakfast, three were complete songs. Without his willingness to accept my dictatorial demands today, this January 26 would be just like any other day. But: BUT: all of our other days are pretty damned magnificent. This little lifestyle we’ve stumbled into, created for ourselves this season, is delightful enough sans any pomp and circumstance. I felt special. So it was.

Edit: I received 1 more HBD before bed on the 26th. The next day, my American birthday, Eric blessed me with a total of 9 well wishes. Three were spoken, six were sung, and one of those renditions was in Español. Muy bien, mi amor!

-K

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^ Rather ironic to be eating eggs on one’s birthday, eh? Feastin’ on a meal I didn’t have to prepare. Yussss.

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^ It didn’t end up raining all day, but we still didn’t do much to celebrate. Reading beneath a willow tree was as extreme as it got. And I’m okay with that.

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^ Now there’s a handsome stud.

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^ The stack of books I’ve managed to devour on this trip so far.

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^ And then I was tired. And it was my birthday. And I made the rules. So I passed out in the park. The end. 🙂

Wanaka


by KandE

Tomorrow is the day each year I dread, yet simultaneously desire above all others. My birthday. Before anyone can tell me “Oh, just 28? You’re still a baby!” it’s really never been my age that’s the worrisome bit. It’s solely ever my inflated expectations, purely my longstanding belief that this is the best day, your only day, to indulge with impunity. The single day out of every 365 that you earn good wishes, good vibes, good dessert simply by being alive. Just as you are. By making it through one more year. Sure, it may be a somewhat arbitrary and underserved honor, but a happy childhood full of chocolate barbie doll cakes and party streamers stuck to the door frame have made me feel otherwise.

But what if I don’t get that velvet bucket hat from the JCPenny catalog? What if none of the friends I invited to my pool party at the RAC show up? What if I fail my driver’s test and everyone else passes? What if my locker isn’t decorated by the time I get to school? What if I don’t accumulate enough “Happy birthdays!” on Facebook? What happens if I have no one to get a celebratory 21st drink with, still not having made friends at this school? What if this is only my 2nd day at my new job and no one knows me nor cares? What if it’s also a national holiday in Australia and the foreigner’s 25th is overlooked? What if no one remembers me on my special day here on the other side of thew world, and I spend my day barricaded in a van, trapped in my 2×6 meter box, while it’s forecasted to rain all day? What then?

Part of me thinks–knows–I’m being rather immature about the whole thing. That one day has no bearing on the year previous, nor any indication on the upcoming. That as long as one is able to honestly reflect and give proper thanks for another year of ups, downs, and in-betweens, that you’re sitting rather pretty. That if you’re just content having reached 365 more days of opportunity, the calls, the cards, and the cake are unnecessary, as you no longer need any affirmation that you are worth celebrating.

-K

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Wanaka


by KandE

In the past 5 days I have bathed nude in natural bodies of water an equal amount of times. I’m also pleased to report that I’ve managed my first full week of daily bowel movements. Praise the Lord, she’s living the dream!

And now: a bit more on the topic of bathing…

Follow the dirt path down, down, duck beneath 3 low boughs. There, tucked around the last tree in a row, you’ll find the river. The bank is a thin strip of sloped, supple mud, bearing traces of a right heel here, a splay of left side toes there. But now: it belongs to us as we step gingerly forward, testing the water with a big toe. The current is quick; it points the way.

Forward, forward, beneath the third tree on the far side of the stream. I hang my towel on an outstretched limb, shedding my clothing unto a lush blanket of fairytale moss. Beneath the branches, beneath the leaves, beneath the midmorning sun, I stand naked. The crisp water sluices past my bare shins & I am completely content.

-K

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^ Skinny-dipping in Lake Pukaki, with Mt. Cook hovering tentatively in the distance.

namaste


by KandE

In an attempt to be mindful of my original NZ goal list, today I unrolled my yoga mat for the first time since it’s acquisition last week. I spent a solid 50 minutes on the mat, it’s blue plastic surface nestled amongst swaying, seaside grass with a commanding view of the Southern Alps before me. Unfortunately for my spiritually inclined goals, my eyes were not closed in deep meditation but for a delightfully sunny siesta. Who knew a yoga mat doubled so brilliantly as a sleeping surface?

In all seriousness, I did attempt a legitimate go at some stretching this morning. I’m finding on this trip that my very first actions, reactions to the new day, are key in determining my daily attitudes. This morning after throwing back the covers for a swig of water, I didn’t crawl directly back into bed beside my beloved. “Oh! It’s really not too cold outside either!” led to a proper pair of footwear, an extra sweater, and a walk to the lake. Upon my return to the Hiace, I didn’t close my eyes for another snooze, but opened my book to it’s latest chapter. I made the bed, I made the table, I made breakfast with an enthusiasm not normally present at that hour. And so it was following this chain of mundane yet magically invigorating events that led me to the lycra.

After another stroll along the waterfront, I found my spot.

Breezy, sunny, plenty of bird chirp.

Mat duly unfurled with a self satisfied flourish.

Routine aborted after 30 seconds, flicking away a terrible troupe of pesky insects.

This happened twice, in fact, in two different locations before I decided that my newest purchase of athletic equipment was more useful back in it’s tight coil, wielded instead as a bat for fat bumblebees.

BUGS BE GONE, GODDAMNIT!

Namaste.

-K

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^ Morning coffee at our SECRET SPOT. Best campsite we’ve discovered yet on this whole, damn trip.

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^ In case you thought this was just a random snap of the shutter… “Here, Eric, take a picture of me too. The light looks good on you, it’s bound to be good on me too.”

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^ Silver Moki: 9.5/10
^ Saint Clair: 7/10

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^ Sileni: 8/10
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^ Hiking up around Mt. Cook’s neighborhood. The fog slowly crept in as we advanced, with the end of our 7th mile leaving us quite soggy.

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^ Those swing bridges get me every time.

timaru


by KandE

Photo post today, dears.
El Nino (el Mofo) has been messing with our plans.
And it rains.
And rains.
And rains.
And we’re confined to a small vehicle which drips water from the top, fuel from the bottom.

Life really isn’t too bad in spite. Hot coffees, hot showers, and a top + bottom set of long johns are making my world go round.

-K

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^ The last day of sun. We had the wind to contend with instead. This is Eric and his magic carpet. It’s also the more modest van carpeting which we have to regularly remove to clean off bread crumbs and errant blades of grass. The gale force winds that night were so intense, it felt like a gnarly case of 12 hour turbulence.

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^ More sun! Hiking!

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^ Perched atop the Lord of the Rings movie set site for Edoras.