Tim.A.Ru.

March 2, 2016March 2, 2016
by KandE

Our days in this purgatory are numbered. Praaaise! The engine is going in TODAY! It’s up on the hoists NOW having the pieces reassembled! Eric and I have been teetering on the edge of the abyss, holding on to our sanity, groping for good news. As amusing as it is to be coffee shop regulars, now recognizable by the staff at Arthur St, I’m over it. Too bad we’re only a few cappuccinos away on our loyalty card to our free drink! LE SIGH. Somehow we shall live with the heavy sacrifice while we cruise down Highway 8 (TOMORROW?!?!?!?!) giving this city the finger as it disappears in the rearview.

-K

^ I’ll fess up. We sit in the same corner every damn day. And this iiiisn’t it. But THE ALLEY out back is far more photogenic. Waggles eyebrows.
^ “I’ll just get up first and peek and make sure no one is out there. Then you come with the empty cups.”

Timaru

March 1, 2016March 5, 2016
by KandE

There have been no young and handsome police officers. No quirky good deeders. No shimmering desert roads bathed in golden rays of sun. Having the van break down has been a far LESS romantic event than Hollywood would leave me to believe.

I KNEW it would happen.
And secretly: I relished the prospect.

Naive, stateside Kimberly thought, Aha! Therein lies a story to be collected! One more gold coin in the piggybank of adventurous mishaps!

However I now know those must be chocolate coins I had envisioned, wrapped in gold foil, for we drown our sorrows with cocoa powder. All of our real gold coins are sunk into a van that feels less like a treasure with each passing day.

-K

elegance is an attitude

February 27, 2016February 29, 2016
by KandE

Mirrors have become a novelty in this lifestyle and I have now had the opportunity to gaze upon my reflection THREE times since yesterday morning. This owing to the newly discovered toilets in the small strip mall by the supermarket. We’ve happily changed our bathroom loyalties from the stalls at the park, effective immediately. Still no paper towels in either, but our new potties can boast soap (FEELIN’ FANCY NOW) and mirrors. Cue the horror movie music.

One glance and I’m instantly back in a world where upstanding citizens are beholden to maintain sleek brows. I’m eyeing up my ponytail, wondering if I’ve surpassed the acceptable limit of grease. Clothing is tugged, tightened, and rearranged while I try to gauge whether this jumpsuit flatters my ass and shows too my armpit hair. It’s a personal battle every time I have to pee, and one I’ve managed to lose 3 of 3 times.

I feel sloppy. Dirty. Secretly repulsed by this underarm crusade.
I feel ugly. Inadequate. Secretly desirous of my comfortable life back in Minnesota.

But then–
OH!–

Something sort of miraculous occurs. I quit examining my exterior, I splash my face with water from the tap, and I look myself in the eyes. I square up to that reflection, I slowly smile, and inform it that elegance is an attitude. After drying my hands daintily on the legs of my pants, I exit. I give the handsome man waiting for me a whopping smack o the lips. And I tell him again how wonderful it is to be on this adventure together.

-K

From the handles of his walker, his shopping lay suspended in plastic bags. Six trays of meat and a bottle of ketchup.

February 25, 2016February 26, 2016
by KandE

Our social circle is expanding and we are THRIVING in Timaru. Our best friend count has now increased to TWO today with the new addition of Charlie.

When he first sat down beside us, full of lopsided grins and good manners, I disregarded him as just another elderly fellow with a walker needing a rest. I wasn’t planning on having any manner of extended conversation beyond pleasantries, as I was planted on that particular bench to swipe Wifi from the nearby grocery store. But MAN, when Charlie asked us if we wanted to see something that would “freak us out,” a dialogue really opened up. After the invitation to view his left foot, sans shoe, four of five little piggies permanently off to market, we were instantly bonded. From there he proceeded to tell us about his blood clots, hospitalization, and getting hit by a car, while he cracked open a bourbon and cola mixer. (No stories, however, about the 4 missing teeth.)

Between sips, our new pal took care to politely ask about us as well. When he heard we were Americans his excitement could hardly be contained, quizzing us to see if we’d been to Brooklyn and if we knew Neil Diamond. This was the pivotal moment when our newfound friendship became official, and he formally introduced himself. Outstretching his right hand, showing off the faded spiderweb inked across the back, the three of us shook hands, sharing open smiles. Our intimacy only grew from there as the topic turned to tender love. “So, are you going to marry her?” he questioned Eric, his head swiveling spastically between the two of us. My love let out an embarrassed chuckle before countering, “I don’t know, should I?” “Of course!” replied our new friend, eyes bulging as he sagely counseled us on our future. “Of course you should get married!” After thanking him for his guidance and advice, we parted ways, both parties smiling, shaking their heads.

-K

^ Speaking of alcohol… and a first! Red, red wiiiiine! Strictly NZ, however. Gotta drink local, support the economy. Doing the duty.

Gleniti Auto Shop

February 22, 2016February 23, 2016
by KandE

Today has been a day of tummy aches.

The first wave of nausea I came by honestly. Really, that’s what you get for sitting in the passenger seat at the grocery store, a giant slab of “moist chocolate cake” in your lap, and your fingers for forks. I attacked that colossal rectangle of sugar with much gusto, zero grace. The cake then repaid the favor, attacking me in turn.
Aching tummy.
Tummy. Ache.
(Happy birthday, Judy!)

The second episode today wasn’t chocolate induced, but the kind of ache that festers from a deep, little nugget of frustration, foreboding, and stress. The final diagnosis on the van: a cracked head. Whatever the EFF that means. (Eric tried to patiently explain the situation but lost me at “pistons.”) According to Malan, the new BFF, it’s an additional $2,800 to fix, plus the $400 charge already levied upon us for 3 days of head scratching.
Ouch.
I know I’m more affected than I outwardly show or recognize, because when my dear is visibly distressed, I cleave my yin to his yang to try and retain some measure of balance + harmony.

Lastly in today’s misadventures of the stomach: the universe is listening. And the universe hates us.
Cooking dinner, camping in the back parking lot of the auto shop, I SAY the motherfucking cursed words: I HOPE OUR LPG RUNS OUT WHILE WE ARE HERE. HA, HA. A mere 5 minutes later, trying to mix my raw steak into a sizzling mess of hot veggies, the burner dimmed, shuddered, and disappeared altogether. Apparently my poor wit in noticing that the auto shop advertised gas refills was mistaken as an urgent, celestial plea for a ruined dinner, as the shop had closed 10 minutes previous. That wasted $8 of sustenance had me closer to tears than a figure 400x that amount as quoted by Malan. (Hey, boo.)

I miss home.

-K

^ Exploring the Victorian district of Oamaru, a sweet little town to the south.

^ Old photos to fill in while we waste away our days at the town bibliotheca.

Timaru

February 21, 2016February 23, 2016
by KandE

Calm. That’s the word. Sometimes relaxed, but mostly calm. This has been my assigned label for the past several years by casual acquaintances and coworkers. I get it. Sort of. But it just means we’ve never played a board game together, nor engaged in any kind of competitive activity. Rolling dice, dealing cards, cracking a croquet ball, and I’m likely a raging menace. Which is why after 171 recorded games of rummy, Eric is calling for a cessation in game play.

… I get it.

I want to be cool, I do. I’m not proud of the number of times I’ve overturned boards and pieces during family game nights. I’m still embarrassed by that afternoon when I was 14, throwing a miniature golf club manically around hole #12 in town, with my daddio vowing to never bring me back again. I have managed to rein in my bad behavior over the years, but this new rummy obsession has been my un-fucking-doing. Eric is the enemy. I’m demented with my desire to win. I now require deep breaths and closed eyes to restrain my impulses to throw cards and bang fists upon every dramatic loss. And I think what the eff is going on?
.

For the record: on truly important matters in life, my behaviors are much more mature and optimistic. I’m not usually such a demon, I promise.

-K

^Speaking of undoings, let’s chat about how making mushroom and butternut risotto with Bulgarian sheep’s feta should only be attempted by the bravest of campervan cooks. Nightmare. But a delicious one.

Waihao Box

February 20, 2016February 23, 2016
by KandE

I had the beach all to myself this morning. I sat in my little pile of pebbles to watch the sun rise over the Pacific. What started out as “I’m too cold” and “This is taking too long” slowly morphed into “This is all for me?!” and “Mmm, now I want cotton candy.” By the end of my 30 minute vigil I was literally laughing, cheering, and tearing up, witnessing the full procession of light + color parade across the sky. Life’s certainly grand if you allow it to be.

-K

^Eric, meanwhile, refused to be moved. 😉

Waihao Box

February 19, 2016February 23, 2016
by KandE

Our mechanic’s name is Malan. He has two rows of tiny, compact teeth, and wears a silver chain around his neck that is ill suited for a man his age. While he was fiddling around in the engine this morning, mumbling curses under this breath, I Googled “What kind of name is Malan.” My results were inconclusive, but Eric tells me from their sessions of man talk in his office that he’s from South Africa. All that I know about him is that his favorite phrase of the past 48 hours has been, “I honestly don’t know what to tell you.” Eric, meanwhile, has been offered tea for two and has a direct phone line to the repairman with small teeth. He’s now our closest acquaintance in New Zealand. I think he and Eric might already be BFF. ALSO, the van is inexplicably fucked. More tests to follow tomorrow.

-K

^Mt. Cookie!
^Repainting kitchen cupboards on the beach in my underwear. Which now we know might all be for nothing, depending on the magnitude of the repair. Palm to face.