Author: KandE

Auckland


by KandE

It has been determined since day one, that we will endeavor to shop only secondhand for the duration of this trip.
Yes.
Yes, I’m into this.
But after passing by the Topshop in downtown Auckland 17 times, I finally caved and scurried through the store’s big double doors before my good sense could intervene.

For the record: I left empty handed!
And an added bonus: the following transcript of a conversation with my beloved, regarding one rather puzzling garment I was admiring.

K: How the hell are you supposed to wear this? Your nipples would be flying all over the place.
E: No, they wouldn’t. You wear that for cooking.
K: HAAAA!
K: You think it’s–
K: Snort, gasp.
E: Blank stare.
K: That’s not a–
K: AHHHH!
K: This is a dress, not an apron!

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Honest mistake?

Sorry, Topshop, for disrupting the calculated, cool-girl vibe of your store with such violent shrieks of mirth.
(But not, though. That was damn delightful.)

-K

[Still] Auckland


by KandE

Le siiiiiiigh.

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The good news: Our transpacific wire transfer has successfully gone through. We’re cashed up and ready to ride dirty.

The bad news: I’m updating the blog from yet another dingy hotel room instead of the back of a bitchin’ new campervan. Four thumbs down.

The problem: There isn’t a vast selection of vans in a close proximity meeting the qualifications we’ve set. They’re too far, too expensive, too cheap, or too dirty. Most aren’t self contained (meaning your access to campsites is far more limited + you really do have to make your dumps in the woods) and the high summer season in New Zealand is just getting underway. It’s a seller’s market. And we’re on the losing side.

It didn’t really occur to me this might happen. That we’d be stranded in a string of hotels, decreasing our daily budget as each calendar day disappears. With our to-do lists dramatically shrunk, we now spend an increasing amount of time doing research into the various options we have. I’ve found old ambulances, converted ice cream trucks, and quirky trailers. (All ideas Eric was quick to pull the plug on.) We’ve considered flying down to the south island, taking a train, and bussing towards a different pool of options. There’s still a slim chance of renting until the right opportunity to purchase comes along, but that seems like a potential waste of time and an even bigger waste of money.

This trip is starting to feel like a stressful, stagnant waiting game.
If we’re in Auckland much longer, I think Eric might wake up to a little surprise parked in front of our hotel.
Wood dumps be damned.
I’m rooting for ice cream.

-K

Auckland


by KandE

The new wine rating system, courtesy of a couple of Amuricans who don’t know much about the topic [yet] after a few glasses of white in our hotel room.

1. A more flammable version of piss.
2. My first Holy Communion as a kid.
3. House wine at Olive Garden.
4. It comes in a box.
5. Casual Tuesday night dinner.
6. “Yeah, I’d probably buy that again.”
7. That $20 bottle with the pretty label.
8. It’s probably imported and there’s likely something in the title I may struggle to pronounce.
9. I brought this to the dinner you’re hosting, secretly trying to impress you, and will talk about notes of tobacco and dark cherry.
10. Juice. Cheers!

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^Tonight’s local catch: hovering between a 6 and a 7. Huzzah! Not too shabby! Although unfortunately for this sauvignon blanc, we are now endeavoring to drink a different bottle each time, in an effort to explore this country with our [exquisitely refined] palettes.

Let the tour begin!

-K

Auckland


by KandE

I forget the nature of business in this part of the world.

After 45 minutes of online searching for the ideal breakfast cafe where scuffed white low-tops aren’t out of place, and the menu is still fresh, we set out from our new hotel. (See also: Eric is not partial to the more creative establishments where exotic flowers are growing out of your crêpes, and most of my selections ended up being “too fancy.”) Heading west towards 2 closely situated options, we were dismayed upon arrival to discover that one cafe was belly-up and the other: vanished. I forget the nature of business here: no one gives two shits to bother updating Mr. Internet over anything. (This has not been our first experience with this phenomenon since arriving nearly 4 days ago.) Thilly Americans.

Anyway.

After settling for some nearby bagels–overpriced and decidedly yuppie–alongside a beautiful latte with gracious and redemptive qualities, I now feel properly fed, caffeinated, and prepared to divulge our current status report.

Have Done

1. Set up our bank account
Our biggest trial yet. Apparently large financial institutions aren’t so keen to issue cards to a couple of homeless foreigners. Oh, right. Homeless and unemployed. During this whole back-and-forth dilemma I mostly took naps of frustration, while levelheaded Saint Eric sorted through the mess. Bless him.

2. Acquire a new phone + NZ number
Our quickest accomplishment yet. The salesman asked a total of two brief questions (Which one? Name, please?) and we were on our merry way, with a payment of $39.95 NZD. By comparison, it took us longer to select toothpaste at the corner market outside the hotel.

3. Mail back my airport badge

4. Successfully hunt down the Kerry Rocks stockists in Auckland
Eric accepted this as an important task, and allowed me to add it to our to-do list between items such as “exchange currency” and “go to the car fair.” Both of which we failed to do, along with item #1: buy wine. Our to-do missions for today are quite clear.

-K

Auckland


by KandE

We are imposters here.
And the irony of the situation is not lost on me.

As we approach the hotel’s grand entrance, I attempt to smooth back a few greasy strands of airplane hair, taking note of the uniformed valet service standing by on a slab of expensive marble. Crossing the threshold and navigating the spacious lobby to the reception desk, we are assisted by a young, smooth-faced “Kevin” according to one gleaming name plate, pinned upon a pressed lapel. His Windsor knot is separated from our sweaty socks and day-old teeth by a high, polished desk. As Kevin slides two keys across to us for Executive Suite #842, I wonder if he knows my suitcase doesn’t contain a real bra, of if he would be able to guess that I opted to leave both hairbrush and razor at home on Woodlands Lane. Accepting his polite smile and directions to the lobby lift, we drag our dented and dilapidated carry-ons across a floor designed for the smart, sharp click of high heels.

Successfully checked in to our five-star digs for the weekend, it’s now time to indulge in the world of hot water on-demand, ensconce ourselves in bleach-white bathrooms, and start scouring the classifieds for a conversion van.

Hello, New Zealand.
Let’s get down to business.

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^ My current window office, facing the largest building in the Southern Hemisphere. Further entertainment: watching a car commercial being filmed 8 stories below. Who knew NZ had such a healthy industry? We’ve now witnessed 3 commercial shoots in the span of 2 days.

-K

Airborne


by KandE

At 3:30 this morning, the seldom used bathroom scale proclaimed my weight to be a precise 129.4 pounds. Leaving town before the sun came up, the neighborhood gas station was announcing gallons of unleaded for $1.89. En route to the airport, I was further struck by the realization that I will have aged up another year by the time I return home to the house in the woods.

My age, my weight and the certain set of numbers illuminated along the highway–largely meaningless. However, these figures are the ones I take note of, the quantifiers I cling to, on this Day One. I’m building my portrait of “before,” attempting to trace the outlines, for I’m fully aware that the “after” has the honest potential to leave on significantly changed.

This will be a journey.
A process.
An adventure.
And we’re now 2 hours and 20 minutes from touchdown.

-K