Blenheim

March 19, 2016April 3, 2016
by KandE

I parted my hair. Two hanks of clean locks on either side, secured in the back with an elastic. I put on a dress. Unearthed from the wrinkled recesses of my dressing cupboard, frumpy yet feminine. I tweezed. Unseemly sprouts from the neck up, vanquished in an earnestly pitiful, pitifully earnest attempt to give one the illusion that I don’t–couldn’t possible!–live in a vehicle of any variety.

On the drive over, I repeated my mantra to fan the embers of enthusiasm. “Elegance is an attitude,” I chanted to Eric, meanwhile hoping that I was correct in assuming flip flops were more formal to sneakers. We were headed to a vineyard of some renown for the afternoon. The one whose grapey products command the TOP shelf at the supermarket, where the $40 bottles go.

Upon arrival we noticed that in a similar vein, the parking lot is built for the top shelf automobiles one might expect to decorate such a place. Small and shiny with clean backseats. Paula was forced to the periphery, sidled up sloppily next to the vines. If this was an airplane, she’d have been forced to purchase an extra seat.

At this point, I nearly lost my nerve. And this was before I knew my face was smeared orange. (Evidence of an overlarge carrot I tried to conquer for lunch.) After a frantic side view mirror appraisal, a Dawn dish soap goatee, and the distressed scrub for an appearance in peril… I gave up. I put a scarf over my dress to hide the subsequent water spills. And I followed Eric meekly through the grand double doors to whatever judgement was to follow among the polo shirt society set.

And,

Well…

The good news: the staff was lovely. The grounds were spacious. And the wine was potent enough to fill the front yard with my cackles, as I swung barefoot under a tree with a glass of pinot in hand. Elegance is an attitude, sure. But so is not giving a fuck. Cheers!

-K

NOT TIMARU!

March 4, 2016March 5, 2016
by KandE

I envisioned celebrating this moment by spraying champagne bubbles from atop the van, the peachy foam cascading down my bikini top in waves of joy.

For real.

I even bought a new one. A bright, cheery cross between coral and mandarin to align with the color scheme of the decor. (It was only $10. On clearance. That magical “c” word.) But instead of celebrating, we are quietly enduring. One flimsy glass of wine. Sagging sweatpants, the picture of defeat.

It’s one thing to toss around hypothetical sums in one’s head. To mentally deduct a figure from one’s bank account, 2 weeks in advance as preparation. But it’s quite another when a young girl with bottle black hair and too much eyeliner says the words seven THOUSAND sixty-one.. AND EIGHTY-SIX CENTS. Her voice is casual. Even. The same tone as if we’d just pumped $17 of diesel into the tank and could get away with sliding a single, rumpled note across the counter.

My hands tremble as I scribble out the signatures that indicate my legal approval. YES, they say! Proceed! I didn’t care about that particular portion of savings anyway! Impassively, the clerk looks on. She doesn’t get it. She must be too young. A name tag with too many redundant, cutesy consonants precludes her from true understanding. She produces the wan smile perfected by customer service employees that hate their job, and slides our 2 receipts across to us–I don’t carry a card that allows single transactions of that gargantuan size–stapled to an invoice 3 pages long.

I’m happy to have Paula back. There’s only so many times you can trick yourself into believing that the traffic outside your window is really a rolling ocean. But this does mean I’ll have to switch back to cage eggs to compensate. The bikini though–that stays. I’m only able to sacrifice so much.

-K

^ Wine for the win. Junkyard edition. Our home for the past 2 weeks. SEE YA, NEVER.

Wakiti

February 10, 2016February 17, 2016
by KandE

Let me preface this entry by saying Eric, I love you.
Now that we have that out of the way…

Tempers are hot, tension is high, and insignificant skirmishes are beginning to erupt with increased frequency. My beloved is continually stressed out by van repairs + maintenance (overheating, dying batteries, a broken blinker, oil leaks, and two holes in the floor both discovered and created) while I am suffering from a distinct lack of personal space. Being an introvert I should have expected this, should have been prepared with proper coping mechanisms. But I didn’t. And I’m still figuring out ways to be cool when Eric’s foot trods on mine during dinner or when he head butts me with his afro in his sleep. But I’m also finding as we get deeper into this experience that I’ve all but lost that graceful art of solitude. (Oh, irony!)

This afternoon while Eric was fiddling with another tub of coolant, I volunteered to restock the fridge with a few essentials form the grocery store. (Eggs. Sandwich meat. Chocolate. Wine.) Before I had even dug out the reusable bag and stepped onto the pavement, I felt fear. Mmhm, over a few aisles of produce and a flock of grocery carts. Fear, yes, alongside it’s sassy sisters apprehension, uncertainty, and vulnerability. And with most fears, I was well aware of the absurdity, however that doesn’t mean I was any less overwhelmed, tackling the Dunedin city center Countdown at 5PM.

Everyone is on a schedule, whooshing through cramped aisles. Most have a gaggle of kids in tow, or a partner absorbed in a cell phone. I felt I was the recipient of more than 1 dirty look, pausing overlong in the biscuit aisle to compare prices and brands. I couldn’t keep up with bagging my dozen items, and my birthdate and signature were scrutinized by multiple employees.

After 20 minutes in that shop, I couldn’t wait to have Eric’s kneecaps bash into mine “back at home.”

-K

And a little belated wine wrap:

^ A wheel of cheese, a good book, and a 9/10 wine. YUSS! After it was all demolished, we decided to go for a hike of several hours up a nice, big, arduous hill. Not my best idea.

^ Here is where the numbers end. I can’t keep up. I’m no connoisseur. The new ranking system: above, below, or right at average. I can’t even remember what Vidal scored, but look! Pretty forest at our campsite!

^ Fools for rummy.
^ We broke our last plastic wine glass. Mugs it is, kids. Cheers.

namaste

January 21, 2016January 23, 2016
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

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

^ 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.”

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

^ Sileni: 8/10

^ 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.

^ Those swing bridges get me every time.

my new favorite place.

January 12, 2016January 15, 2016
by KandE

You can learn a great deal of things about a person during a session at the laundromat. The stains that populate the clothes they buy. The way they occupy themselves during the spin cycle. Whether one decides to fold or throw after the timer goes off, into dirty duffel bags or bright plastic hampers.

Me: I’m the girl with too many flannels, not enough brassieres, writing post cards in the sunniest corner. A takeaway long black sits in front of me as I slowly sway to the generic, poppy playlist overhead. (Hungry Like A Wolf up next. Independent Women on deck.) I’m the one telling the handsome man at dryer 9, “Wait! I’m not ready to go yet! I’ll help you fold in a few minutes when I finish what I’m working on.”

-K

^ Laundry day a few weeks ago near Nelson.

^ A few overdue wine wrap-ups. Mud House p. gris (8/10) and Mount Ara s. blanc (8.5/10)

^ Oyster Bay s. blanc (5/10)

^ &Two of my best recent cooking adventures!

^ More food and drink shtuff: preparing my morning coffee at the river like my ancestors must have done.

Wa-wa-water

December 28, 2015January 1, 2016
by KandE

The word of the weekend: water. (Also this entry is brought to you by the letter W!)

Yesterday we visited the largest freshwater spring in the world (mildly underwhelming,) Eric attempted a load of laundry in the creek, and I discovered a brilliant swimming hole named “Crystal Pool” at a nearby scenic reserve. I would suggest the latter be renamed “Ice Crystal Pool,” but I still went for a quick dip to fulfill a ballin’ photo op and to sooth my PMSing soul in a river the Maori have long believed to have mystical healing properties.

Today’s aquatic adventures began in the form of my bathing! Huzzah! Eric is keeping track of all sorts of statistics in his journal, and has catalogued this as the X day since my last shower. (My apologies, the number is too horrific for me to admit publicly yet.) Anyway, I swallowed my pride and brought my shampoo and soap caddy to the cold, outdoor shower head at the park. I endured only a slight humiliation as families strolling on a Sunday morning took note of the hairy armpits being soaped across the sidewalk. OH, WELL. I’m clean (today) and nothing can dampen my deep, joyous contentment over silky hair. Not even our newly broken… (wait for it) … water pump! It’s not the worst problem we’ve been faced with on our trip so far, but it reduces our fully functional appliances down to to one: the stove. Unfortunately our batteries for the “house” are still on the fritz, meaning minimal charging of our electronics + no refrigerator, which leads us into our final ode to H2O. We devised a strategy today to keep our dinner meat + produce cold sans fridge, by attempting to harness the cool temps of the campsite river. We hacked an empty water bottle apart (I wasn’t even trying for that w,) stuffed our perishables inside, then wedged it into the shallows with a steady stream to pass through the plastic. It wasn’t a 100% success, but we’ve just finished our dinner and are suffereing no apparent ill effects.

Now that both tonight’s dinner + journaling are done, time to wash all of these highs and lows down with a glass of WINE.

-K

^ Riverstone. A 7/10 for me, 6.5 for E.

^ Ice Crystal Pool. It hits you like a thousand knives stabbing you all over your body. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. At least, not about anything but the pain. Certain I now know what ice fishing on Lake Wissota is like.

^ My sweet eldest nephew reminding us to KEEP LEFT. (And when I say us, I do mean Eric. The last time I tried to learn how to drive a manual, it ended in tears.)

^ More cooking adventures. This is the 3rd time we’ve tried and failed to make a proper cuppa. (Street cred rapidly sinking.)

Port Motueka

December 22, 2015December 28, 2015
by KandE

Eric’s suffering multiple burns. I was hit with sun stroke. F that giant, fiery ball in the sky.
And on the note: happy summer solstice!

Originally we had intended to spend the entirety of the day, 5:58AM to 8:39PM, outside basking in the rays of a bountiful, life-giving sun. But after yesterday’s struggle fest on the mountain, we scrapped that plan, slept in, and just ate sunny side up eggs instead.

Other struggles today include keeping the car batteries charged; the displeasure at finding warm, spoiled food in the fridge; accepting the champion length of my leg hair; and using my thighs and/or glutes for any length of time.

In contrast, victories for the day include but are not limited to: finding the right shade of bight blue thread for a potentially disastrous new sewing project; starting a new book; making camp at the next town north, then combing for rainbow shells at low tide; and going to the bathroom in a real toilet at least one today.

All in all: doin’ pretty OK!

^ Montana wine get’s a 3 out of 10, solstice eggs (they can’t all be winners,) and rainbow shells.

^ More adventures in cooking: vegetarian quesadillas. Diced tomatoes + black beans + queso inside with ample avo on top. One of my favorite meals yet.

-K

Wakefield

December 21, 2015December 28, 2015
by KandE

I wouldn’t be surprised if I lost 10 pounds on our hike today! It was a great physical exertion and a test of our fitness. Also, we were horribly underprepared with no food and one bottle of water to split for 10 miles.

What started as a jaunt à la “I feel great!” and “My body loves me for this!” turned to drudgery before long, trudging up steep, shit sprinkled hills under an unrelentingly full sun. My dehydrated mind was convinced those seagulls flying peaceably overhead were predators circling our beat brows.

Legs started wobbling a bit on the final peak at mile 5.
Game faces became difficult towards cheerful passersby at around 7.
We were on severe water rations for the last 3 miles, openly cursing every goddamn incline AND decline. (You know you’re in rough shape when it’s easier to go up than down.)

F-ing. Rookies.

Although it wasn’t completely torturous the entire time. I’d hiked a small portion of the Cable Bay Walkway a few years earlier with my BFF, and I was excited to share an experience with Eric that is in my top 5 best of all time. The views were just as splendid as I remembered and it was still a thrill to be hiking across active grazing land with goats, cows, and SHEEP to chase, emulate, and ogle. I’m glad(ish) we did it, but even more pleased we made it out of there alive and in reasonably decent spirits.

For the remainder of the day, we rewarded our toils with a hot $2 shower, a double scoop of gelato, and a couple of steaks from the grocery store. After hanging out with all of those healthy cows today on the hills–“You guys grass-fed, eh? Free range?”–our assumptions proved correct that New Zealand beef is top notch. And after a day like today, never have I felt that I deserved a steak more.

-K

^ A steak and a bottle of wine, of course. 3/10, Old Coach Road.

South Island

December 16, 2015December 18, 2015
by KandE

I’m lounging in our new bedroom, stretched out across a surprisingly comfortable double bed, listening to the rain. Eric is 3 ft away (excuse me, approximately 1 meter away) in the kitchen, attempting to christen our small stove. Soon we will be dining on our first hot meal: macaroni and cheese from the box. Complementing our “pasta and flavour mix” we have a fine 2014 sauvignon blanc, grown 30 miles away down Highway 1. (Kilometers. Kilometers. 48 Ks.)

And so ends Day 3 with The Beast. It’s remarkable to reflect that we were in Auckland only a few days back, still dreaming of cozy nights parked at the beach. We’re still combatting a to-do list of mundane tasks and renovation projects–dreamy days hiking mountains and ogling sheep are on hold.

Quick wine notes:
– Seifreid’s, your sav blanc is registering at a flimsy 3 on the scale, now that I’ve had my first few sips.
– The wine selection at the small town grocery store we stopped in at was astounding. I was delighted to discover that there were more shiny glass bottles of vino than all the juice, soda, and milk combined. I applaud your priorities, NZ. Drink your fruit. Shop local. Cheers.

^ The ferry ride south, from Wellington to Picton yesterday.

-K

Auckland

December 7, 2015December 11, 2015
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!

^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

K and E Abroad

Category: Wine for the Win