Skip to main content

Happy Deviation

Happy Deviation
M.J., from S. Korea, with Finn & Fiona
I'm writing from the lounge of the Tiki Lodge, a "backpacker's" in Taupo, New Zealand. We're not supposed to be here. I mean, we've paid for a room, and everything, but this was not the PLAN. The PLAN was to fetch Fiona and Finley from school at three o'clock this afternoon, drive 2 hours to Taupo, eat dinner, then drive 2 hours to Napier, where we'd overnight at my flatmate's colleague's home (free lodging). The premise for this road trip is seeing Lionel Richie in concert in Napier.

Glitch #1: My GPS crapped out 2 weeks ago. It's been sent to a shop (possibly in Antarctica) for repairs. I was hooked on that device like a baby's hooked to his mama. GPS, tell me where to go, and I'll follow ("At the roundabout, take the second exit..."). Until she blacked out. I was forced, against my will, to buy a map. The paper kind you can't refold after you've undone it. The mall trip added another 20 minutes to our journey. Cha-ching...More wasted time.
I googled directions to our destination and set out, map in lap. The directions say Route 29, but the sign says Tauranga/Auckland. Is that right? Maybe I should pull over to consult my $8 map. Nothin' doin': the bridge is a mile long, and there's nowhere to pull off. 2 roundabouts later, I'm back in Mount Maunganui near the mall, where we started. Add another 20 minutes to our journey. Cha-ching...

Glitch #2: Me. I make the executive decision to go back EXACTLY WHERE WE JUST CAME FROM. I'm a teeny bit angry with the electronics store policy prohibiting a swap of the GPS I bought a month ago for a new one. Those people are seriously wasting my time. Finally, we hit Route 36. Whew...the right road. Then the rain starts. The kind of gully washer that forces you to crank windshield wipers full blast. Despite the downpour and the classic Kiwi twisty-turny road (they have the audacity to call it a highway here), a semi truck is nearly sitting on the back of my itty-bitty '86 Honda hatchback. The truck's lights flicker. Are they flashing? Does this guy really want to pass in this rain, on this road? 2 minutes later, the semi overtakes me on a curve. It's still bucketing rain. I want out, and we have at least 3 and-a-half hours to go before we hit Napier.

"Mommy, I'm hungry!" said Fiona. I toss my monkeys granola bars. 10 minutes later, Fiona says, "When are we in Rota-roa?" [it's actually "Rotorua"]. You said we were gonna eat in Rota-roa." I did say that. Only I've blown past the town center, past the KFC, Subway, McDonald's, Burger King, and local cafes offering better food at higher prices. There's nothing immediately outside town. I drive another 20 minutes before seeing the Waiotapu Tavern, where I buy toasted cheese sandwiches for $3 each and hope to wait out the rain. It's not letting up.We sit at a high table in the bar and eat cheese sandwiches while watching Sky News. Napier looks further than ever. I don't want to drive in this rain. Roads are too dangerous here. The kids and I inspect a $50 dorm-style room attached to the tavern. "I don't want to stay here, Mommy. It's right by the bar," said Fiona. She has a point, although I considered the location an advantage: I could put the kids to bed and belly up to the bar. Maybe play pool. The room did look like a jail cell, though...

The rain eased, and I used my cell phone (one of the best things I've bought on this trip) to call a backpacker's hostel called the Tiki Lodge in Taupo. http://www.tikilodge.co.nz/  Taupo's a touristy town set on a big, blue lake. After staying with friends Leanne and Mark in a similar place, I know I can bring the kids and meet other travellers. At $70 U.S. for a triple room with en suite (attached bathroom), it's nearly twice the price of the tavern room.

Money well spent. After criss-crossing town twice (damn it, where's that GPS when I need it?), we found the Tiki: a clean hostel with lake views, Maori artwork and a lounge/kitchen area where travellers rub elbows while cooking, eating and washing up. Fiona and Finley set to making new friends, instantly charming 2 young South Korean women, M.J. and Bora, who posed for pictures with the kids and offered up M.J.'s birthday cake. Finley made funny faces and wolfed 2 pieces of cake.The other travellers at the table were a Swiss couple, Cristophe and Cecile, who bought a '55 Chevy in Spokane and live 10 minutes from our Swiss friends near Zurich.
Cecile & Christophe, from Switzerland
I put the kids to bed and returned to the lounge to write...
[Here's a travel hint: If you stay up late enough and hang out in a backpacker's lounge, anyone over age 30 will have gone to bed. That means you can hang near 20-something Brits and hear conversation like, "My friend was so drunk he shit himself while walking down the street..."

So, I'm GPS-less. So, we didn't make it to Napier tonight. We did find a funky hostel and swapped stories with fellow travellers. A happy deviation. Memories in the pockets of our minds. And Finley has a couple new "girlfriends." Cha-ching.

Comments

  1. AmyMarch 18, 2011 at 3:44 PM

    Oh dear! I should have given you directions before you left. They are remarkably easy once you are headed in the right direction.....note to self for next time...and I at least could have given you my map...:(

    ReplyDelete
  2. Dawn PickenMarch 19, 2011 at 4:07 AM

    It's alright. We made it! I am, however, still cursing the folks at JB Hi-Fi for leaving me in the lurch without a GPS. I don't want to be without one again!

    ReplyDelete
  3. LucindaMarch 19, 2011 at 5:15 PM

    best part of traveling... all the people you are immediately intimate with.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Dawn PickenMarch 21, 2011 at 3:04 AM

    Yes, Luc. You're so right. And you would know!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Remove Before Flight

Remove Before Flight “The elevator’s trim, rudder’s trim, mixture’s rich, flaps are at ten degrees…” Pete, the PAHT-nah (partner), is talking through a pre-flight checklist as we wait to taxi from the Tauranga airport. In the nearly 12 months we’ve known each other, Pete’s talked about taking me flying. Now, with my departure from New Zealand less than ten days away, the weather, schedules, and aircraft maintenance have obliged so Pete can fulfill his promise. The sky is overcast, but the cloud ceiling will allow us to fly at 2,500 feet; it’s the weekend, so we’re not competing with flight school students for air time; and there’s a new-ish plane (called FCO, or Foxtrot Charlie Oscar) Pete has enough confidence in to haul what he calls “precious cargo,” which is me. Pete checks the Cessna 152 single-engine propeller aircraft as I watch. He walks the plane’s perimeter, inspecting flaps, wheels, the rudder… He gives me a couple wooden door-stopper-looking blocks (called chocks). “Remo
4 comments
Read more

Murder House

Murder House (MUH-dah House) The deed is done              “I don’t wanna go to the dentist. It’s gonna hurt,” says Fiona. I can hardly deny my eight-year-old the truth, but I can tiptoe around it.             “They’re going to rub medicine on your gums to numb them,” I tell her. “And they can put your tooth to sleep with a needle.”             Fiona gasps, “I don’t want a needle! No!” Oops. I shouldn’t have used the “n” word. Fiona starts her high-pitched screeching if she thinks a needle exists in the next room. When I got the kids immunized in preparation for dragging them round-the-world, Fiona cried as the nurse swabbed her upper arm with iodine. You would’ve thought someone was whacking off her limb with a rusty saw, yet the needle lay feet from Fiona’s body. New Zealand is not the place for dental work for a squeamish, sobbing little girl. I learned after bringing Fiona to a dental clinic during the Christmas school vacation (otherwise known as summer holidays) that sch
9 comments
Read more

The Affair

The Affair Ohope Beach, NZ I had an affair last week. I’m not ashamed to tell you, either. It was sweet and sad. It made me laugh, cry, sigh and dance in my chair to James Brown and Rupert Holmes. My Kiwi PAHT-nah, Pete, even facilitated the tryst, though neither of us knew what to expect beforehand. Pete watched the kids while I was gone for five nights. Five whole nights.  No kids. No TV. No partner.  I enjoyed a dalliance with my late husband, Sean (though I should write instead, ‘dead husband,’ because Sean hated being late). It happened in a wood-paneled house across the street from the ocean, in Ohope Beach, New Zealand. I attended a writer’s retreat to work on the memoir. I revised six sections totaling more than 40,000 words. In the course of revising- subtracting old text and adding entries from letters Sean had written me when we first started dating, plus journal entries he wrote around the time Fiona was born - I fell in love again. With Sean’s openn
2 comments
Read more