“Kimberly, Kimberly.”
“Whaaaaa.”
“Can you come help me push the van? We’ve been in the 30 minute parking for 16 hours. We need more time.”
“What time is it?”
“6.30.”
“…No?”
And so the morning began. A little dreary, a bit desperate, and too damned early. After our charming pet/cranky beast decided to take a long, illegal nap in a sunny short term parking space, we spend the entire day in problem solving mode. Or more accurately: Eric spend 6 hours charging, testing, and rotating Paula’s batteries, buying jumper cables in vain, scratching his head over useless Google results, and hunting around town for an outdoor plug-in. (Had he been able to reach the outlets up in the town square’s tall trees, he would have Grinched the hell out of those quaint Christmas lights.)
Meanwhile, I made myself comfortable in my bucket seat and knocked out several chapters in my book. I ate some cheese, swigged some wine from the bottle, and even snuck in a nap. It’s not that I didn’t want to help (which is true, but not the point) but that I possess zero knowledge and/or skills regarding anything automotive or electrical. Any attempt to understand would frustrate both parties with no reward. I did at least offer my coffee and beer retrieval services, which were both declined. Twas self preservation on both sides to allow Eric to exert his male prowess for analyzing large mechanical devices with blinky buttons. (Notice I did not say fix.)
After several hours, numerous chapters, and the prolonged good fortune at avoiding both ticketing and towing; we booked a room at the nearest motel one block away. At $130 NZD, it was an investment to charge our car batteries more effectively, avoid another potential ticket for not only parking but sleeping illegally, and for the opportunity for a SECOND hot shower in TWO days.
Side note 1: hotel reception is a strange business in this land and closes for the night anywhere between 6 and 9. We were lucky to get a room 20 minutes after the posted open hours + w/ all the nearby lodging windows dark.
Side note 2: We navigated to a truck stop the day before in earnest pursuit of clean hair. Dropping that $2 coin into that machine like it was a ride at the carnival, produced 6 steamy minutes that I count among the most transformative of my life. Showers are god in this new life of ours.
The hotel turned out to be a bit of an unnecessary indulgence (see also: our conversation from the morning) however, we did have the most delightful exchange with the owner and his wife for 30 minutes following check-out. A business card was also thrust into our hands, an email address scribbled on the back, and an invitation to let them know how we “end up getting on in New Zealand.”
In the end, we decided to walk to a nearby auto shop where we entreated a pleasant fellow named Geoff for help. After declining the option to tow the van ourselves–“It’s a manual. Are you comfortable with that?”–we handed over our keys, number, and car location, and gave the green light for them to fetch and fix whatever was wrong.
One hour and a few hundred dollars later, our Paula has awoken from her deep, stationary trance, full of fresh juice and ready to roll. It did turn out to be a battery problem; there just happens to be FOUR in this van, some of which were in hiding.
We plan to leave all manner of civilization TOMORROW for at least a few days of outdoors time + camp stove meals for two. Speaking of which: we never did get that macaroni and cheese from the other night. The gas tank was empty, we had to take it in to be filled, was informed our current set-up was illegal which required a new valve to be installed, and have since failed to get THAT upgrade up-and-running. OH, the joys of a newly-purchased, faulty, fickle vehicle in a foreign country!
-K