One Spectacular Day of Indulgence After Another......

A glorious day in the life of me…….A sample of a long list of equally divine days…….

We had just spent the night at the most amazingly beautiful campsite on planet earth, whereupon Kelly and I woke up to a pink-orange blazing sunrise over the stunning headlands in Marlborough sounds as the glassy turquoise water reflected the light and clouds and the sun rose slowly, piercing the damp morning air. Boats in the tiny harbor waded and turned with the non-existent swell as miniature waves kissed the sand beach two meters in front of the van. A giant black stingray cruised the shallow area just in front of the beach. I gazed out at all of this beauty from the comfort of my luxurious bed. In my van.

Next up, The Chit Chat Challenge. If puzzled, please refer to Chit Chat blog entry.

We bought an ‘off brand’ version of the Chit Chat to compare during the aforementioned ritual. We have to be ABSOLUTELY certain that the Chit Chat is the best cookie (biscuit as they call here, which is a term I actually prefer using since it seems like you are eating something a wee bit less naughty than a ‘cookie’, as in “Why yes, Kelly, I would truly enjoy a ‘biscuit’ with my coffee, thanks very much for asking!”) After two go’s with the Woolworth off-brand Chit Chat and one go with the regular Chit Chat, we concurred that the original Chit Chat was still the best choice, but the Woolworth off-brand was a close second (third being original Tim Tams and fourth, if we were in dire straits and there was absolutely nothing left in the supermarket with sugar in it, would be Budget brand) and thus the Woolworths brand would be honorably considered when buying mass quantities of Chit Chats when said Chit Chats were not on sale. You see, the Woolworth brand is actually one dollar cheaper when comparing regular prices (but not sale prices). Circumstances that would allow for the buying of bulk amounts of Chit Chats would be under the following terms: 1) Sale 2) Heading into rural areas where status of supermarket supplies is unknown 3) General greediness

Now that the first hour of this oh-so-magnificent day was underway, we launched into the next phase……..

We headed towards the green shell mussel capital of the world. Next stop, lunch of course!!!!! One grilled combo platter (herb, butter, garlic/cheese, bacon/creamy mushroom/sweet chili) and one steamed pot (cilantro, chili, coconut milk) of giant fat bellied green shell mussels straight from the ocean later at The Mussel Pot, we shamelessly declared that this was the best day ever, I mean how could it get better than this, really? Our experience at The Mussel Pot was only improved as we left and I insisted on juxtaposing Kelly’s open mouth next to the giant faux pot of mussels resting atop the roof of the restaurant. When I crouched down on the sidewalk and ordered her to move this way and that, and do this and put your hand like this and oh great that is perfect, I now have a photo of her eating out of a giant pot of mussels on the roof of a restaurant. Wicked.

Sundresses and sunglasses on, our bellies full and our spirits high, we cruised towards our next destination, which admittedly had taken several discussions to even decide on, only because we had so many options and so many things we wanted to do, where does one begin, really?

As we cruised along, smiles firmly in place listening to Janet Jackson’s ‘A Decade of Design’ we somehow missed our turn to go to Picton. It must have been in the brief moment that I took my eyes off the road and snarled at Kelly “No, my first name ain’t baby, it’s Janet, Miss Jackson if you’re nasty”

Anyway, regardless of who is to blame for this seemingly unfortunate blunder, myself, the ever-so-distracted driver, Kelly, my exceptional navigator, or Miss Jackson, approaching on the horizon was another green road sign which would hopefully point us in the right direction. Oh and did it ever!

‘Bypass to Picton’ is apparently Kiwi code for ‘Vineyards and lots of them, right this way’. Within seconds we are cruising past row after row of grape vines and sign after sign for this vineyard and that winery. My heart began to flutter with excitement as I realized a buzz would soon be within the reach of my hot little hands and I turned to Kelly. “Where the f*** do we begin? I feel like I am at an all-you-can-eat buffet and I don’t know where to start!’ I demanded, slightly more aggressively than intended. We realized then and there, we were no longer going to Picton. This was the most gloriously perfect wrong turn I have ever taken in my life. And I am pretty sure it will remain as such until the day I leave this life.

We descended upon Cloudy Bay, a smart, snazzy little place with great wine and friendly staff. We prompty decided to have lunch there the next day, although we were still practically bursting at the seams from our mussel-fest. Next stop Bouldevines whereupon we received some very friendly advice regarding best wineries and best lunches (also very important, still thinking about a meal that is going to happen in 24 hours). Then, oh what do we have here, a chocolate factory smack-dab in the middle of vineyard universe? What a brilliant idea! Two free samples later and a bit of drooling, we were off to our final wine destination for the day, Montana, which was a bit out of town. One silly, minor, and in hindsight rather harmlessly insignificant traffic mistake later involving a narrow bridge, an oncoming tractor trailer truck and a bit of blasphemy, we arrived intact at Montana, which I now would like to affectionately refer to as ‘wine and hammock utopia’. We sampled some wine and layed in a sun drenched hammock discussing life and food and our plan for attack (I like to think of my style of visiting tasting rooms as more of an attack, rather than a ‘visit’, as ‘visit’ implies some sort of civility, order and manners, like a tea party with grandma or something). We decided the best way to not get deported for criminal drunk driving (not sure if that is even possible but I had a feeling that if it was, it would happen to me in Marlborough, as I really like Sauvignon Blanc AND Pinot Noir) is to rent bikes and be inappropriate and disorderly via two skinny tires as opposed to four big fat ones?! What logic is that? Oh right, the kind that makes all ideas seem like good ones at the time, after a few glasses of old grape juice…..A day of this caliber could only be ended with one very simple pleasure of mine that, at times in the past month have been few and far between, and that my friends, is a good hot shower. Living out of a van has its perks for sure, but I wouldn’t necessarily argue that daily hot showers are one of them. Nor would I argue that it is mandatory or even slightly important. But oh are they good when you get one, definitely worth waiting for, and well deserved and appreciated for the ten minutes of sheer ecstasy that it provides.

Anyway as verbose as this description is, and although I have left out lots of other decadent, and oh-so-self-indulgent moments, this is a pretty good sample of a day in the life of my travels. Its pretty good to be me. I reckon so.

Happiness is a Chit Chat

Back again after an inappropriately long hiatus.

Still in NZ. 

But not working.

YES!

I have purchased a van with a 'rebuilt' engine and a 'warranty'......

I quote these things because the 'kiwi-as' man that I bought the van from claimed both of these things. Whilst telling me that the van has a good bid (bed).

She ain't pretty but she purrs like a kitty. So I named her Kitty. Kitty is a bit banged up, for example the grotesquely large dent just behind the driver side door. It looks like someone in a large truck with a snowplow attached to the front hit Kitty at a ninety degree angle.

The two roll down windows don't really roll up COMPLETELY you see, but it would really only be a huge devastating problem when and if the rain decided to rain from the ground up and I drove in reverse everywhere.

Which may have happened in a dream I had last night.

My dreams have been weird lately, well my whole life really. I attribute it to having the nasty habit of eating sugary sweets before bed.  It's the only consistent thing that I do that could explain this recurring phenomenon.

Lately I have been eating naughty stuff in the morning too, which sets the tone for a naughty eating day, but its so hard since I have discovered the most amazing thing the whole world. Well, in New Zealand anyway.

Its a little somethin' called a Chit Chat. Which is a rectangular three tiered chocolate covered cookie. But its no ordinary cookie my friends. Its magical!

The most delicious way to consume a Chit Chat is with a cup of coffee. But there is a very special technique that must be used or it is really sacreligious not to marry the two in a glorious culinary masterpiece. 

What you do is this......

Start by making yourself a wickedly steamy cup of good coffee, however you like it.  My personal favorite is with a smidge of Baileys. Well more than a smidge. Which brings me back to the naughty start to the day. Which is a dangerously viscious everlasting circle. But anyway....

Prepare yourself by placing a Chit Chat next to your chosen cup of coffee.  Seat yourself comfortably in front of aforementioned items. Dip ever so slightly and cautiously one side of the Chit Chat (which is the shape of a rounded rectangle) into the coffee for five seconds.  Remove from coffee and bite off the end. Repeat process on the other end of Chit Chat. Now you have made the proper preparations for the most amazing sweet sensation of your life....Get ready......

Now place one bitten end of the Chit Chat in your mouth and dip the other end gently into the coffee.  Now you are ready to use the Chit Chat as a coffee straw.  Suck the coffee through, yes THROUGH the Chit Chat until you feel the sensation to stop. You will know when this is because the Chit Chat becomes soggyish and unable to be manipulated further as a straw.  At this precise moment, shove the entire remaining Chit Chat in your mouth and feel free to moan in ecstasy as the most amazingly delightful chocolate coffee explosion fills your mouth. It's intense.  One of the masters of the Chit Chat ritual actually hugs himself afterwards. Yes, it IS that good.

The most important thing to remember when dining on Chit Chats in this fashion is to be extremely careful not to bite off too much off each end of the Chit Chat, therefore rendering your 'straw' useless. One would not be able to utilize the 'straw' in its full potential capacity, which is, in essence, the whole point of the process.

The only problem that I have with Chit Chats so far is that they only sell them in single serving sizes.  What I mean is, a day supply.  Eleven cookies is, in my frugal opinion, not even close to enough cookies ('servings') to put in a package. So what ends up happening is they get consumed unabashedly until they are gone, which is usually an embarrassingly small amount of time.  Eleven cookies? Really?  Who hasn't had eleven Oreos in a day before?  Anybody?  Ok nevermind, I will return to my utopia now....

Every day is a good time

I don't think I will ever get used to sinks with separate hot and cold water faucets. Nor do I want to.  In all my years of traveling, this has got to be my top pet peeve of first-world traveling. How does one work this out? It's all fine and good if you are just brushing your teeth and only cold water is required, but how does one wash their hands or face with actual WARM water? What ends up happening, and I know you all do this too, is darting your sudsy hands back and forth under both faucets desperately searching for a comfortable temperature, freezing, scalding, freezing, scalding, freezing, scalding, WTF people? Isn't it more expensive to have two faucets rather than one that merges water together for whatever perfect temperature your little heart desires?  I'm glad no one can see me doing this in the bathroom. It's awkward. I'm uncomfortable with myself. Oww, brrr, oww, brrr, oww, brrr, oww, brrr.  I could just wash my hands and/or face with cold water, but why should I when that hot water spigot (that's a favorite Maine word) is just staring me in the face, begging to be used?  I am too spleeny (another Maine word) to just use the cold. I am surprised they don't make showers with two spigots, hot and cold. Weird.

Also weird is my continued obsession with food. And my piercing, relentless, unforgiving hangovers. I am definitely getting old. No wonder why people quit boozing all the time at around my age. It hurts. Not in that I'm-hugging-the-porcelain-throne-and-dry-heaving-thinking-about-each-individual-tequila-shot-I-had-last-night-and-I-am-never-drinking-again way. But more in the ooooooohhhhhhhh-wine-is-really-good-in-New-Zealand way. It's not the tequila that hates me, its my own 29-going-on-30-year-old body that hates me.  I don't understand because it's just grapes really, old grapes, so its like having a hangover from a fruit salad. Who gets a hangover from a fruit salad? Me. Effin' me.

Oh right, back to food.  So I have this lovely new friend at work, Joelle, who shares my love of booze and food.  We usually keep each other abreast about delicious things in the world.  The first time we worked together in the day, she brought along a bottle of Baileys to put in our coffee, you know, just to give us a little pep in the step to start the day. Well, I pretty much knew then and there that we were going to be good friends. I realized last night whilst laughing heartily, that we start almost every sentence we say to one another with "Hey, you know what's REALLY good......." and then fill in the blanks with some sinful concoction of chocolate or ice cream or baileys or all three......Or some fantastic cocktail that we had once or what would be good mixed with the liquor we have at work.  If we are not eating together, we are thinking about what we are going to eat or drink together 'next time'. She likes bloody marys too, but I'll be damned if there is a good place in Queenstown to get a bloody mary.  We decided we have to make our own mix.  Joelle, if you are reading this, I like you a lot.  You have made my time at Finz glorious.  The sign outside of our restaurant now reads "Baileys and white chocolate cheesecake, eat it or the waitresses will......Keep Queenstown beautiful"

So the other day I found myself on a break between shifts watching a pretty crap Bruce Willis movie with a friend and his flatmate. Since they were pretty much talking through the whole movie, I decided to join in as well.  It was one of those ones where Bruce is wandering through the steamy jungle with black dirt on his face the whole time trying to save everyone. You know. Anyway, I abruptly proclaimed, "I don't understand war", to which my friend replied "How can you not understand war? You're American!" Ok fair enough, but truthfully I'm a pretty crap American when its all said and done.  Especially because I was born in Canada.  But what I meant was, I don't understand the rules of war, like who can kill who and when and how and all that. So they started explaining to me a little about how it works, like you can't just go shooting anyone you want whenever you want with whatever weapon you want and I said 'why not'? It's a fight right? And nothing is fair in a fight and there are no rules so isn't that pretty much the same thing?" No Sara, it's not. So in order to understand (in Sara terms remember, I only process and comprehend things in the context of my own world) I began a series of interrogations regarding different scenarios in potential war scenes and whether or not they would be acceptable. They sat there, utterly entertained by my ignorance, and answered my questions about whether or not you could drop a bomb here or use numchuks in hand-to-hand combat.  After all I had to take advantage of these experts (two dudes who like bang-bang movies) while I had their attention.  My last questionable scenario was whether or not I could dress up in a gingham or plaid uniform (cuz you know, the outfit is very important to tricking the enemy) and throw a ninja star at a civilian who is approaching me, perhaps to attack, perhaps not.  Chris basically said "Duh, Sara, only ninjas can use ninja stars!" That pretty much ended the conversation, but began my newfound obsession with ninja stars.

Next door to the restaurant I work at is another, more upscale establishment owned by the same people.  The other day an Indian couple was dining at the upscale next-door place outside, seated on the wharf, directly over the lake enjoying (presumably) their lunch.  At one point, the woman dropped her glasses into the lake and waved the server over with great urgency. "Excuse me, but I dropped my glasses into the lake!" she proclaimed.  The server looked at the woman and offered "I'm sorry?" and stood there awkwardly.  Then the woman barked "Aren't you going to get them for me?" To which the server replied "No I am not going to jump in the lake to get your glasses for you. You dropped them, and they are yours, so if you want them, you have to get them yourself".  Clearly pissed off, the woman furiously looked around for assistance and demanded "Well, aren't there any poor people around to get them?"  Jeesh. A bit harsh, eh?  I guess it's a touch different the 'ole caste society over there in India.  "Sure ma'am let me just go grab you an Untouchable from the corner of Beach Street here in Queenstown and have him jump in freezing cold glacial water because you dropped your sunnies in the lake, just stay put there, I'll be right back....."

India must be a trip. Literally. Can't wait to go and see it for myself!

 

Lost in Translation in NZ

First off Merry Christmas to all!  This is my second Southern hemisphere Jesus Day and for the second time I can't get my head around the Christmas in summer thing.  I guess for most Kiwis, it would feel strange at this time of year to be huddled around a crackling fire in sweaters drinking hot beverages (hopefully alcoholic ones....that'll warm ya right up!) Also strange to me is the idea of skiing in August. I've never done winter in another hemisphere. That will certainly take some mental preparation, should I take that plunge......

Pardon me, brief pause there to help myself to a glass of purple booze of epic proportions. Yes, I am referring to Pinot Noir, my friends, the juice of life here in Central Otago. Some would argue that water, indeed is the actual juice of life, but let's be fair here, and culturally sensitive as well, Pinot Noir runs the show, the boss, the big red, the captain, the grape of all grapes. For me anyway. Oh and other people like it too. I'm pretty sure.

Which brings me to another issue, slightly related but more so disturbing. Yes I am going to continue to talk about myself.

WHY is it that I hoard things like booze and food? One (I) could argue that I am greedy, or chubby, or both but what REALLY lies at the heart of this issue folks? Was I deprived of these things at some point and now I am afraid of running out? I am afraid of being hungry (and sober) and not being able to find nourishment (or a buzz)?  Today is the day before Christmas and all supermarkets, liquor stores, and bars are closed tomorrow. Not for a week, just for one day. That is 24 hours. So because I fear hunger and sobriety of the worst degree on this very important Christian holiday, lets remind all of you that I hardly identify myself as Christian, but anyway, god forbid I don't buy enough wine. God forbid. Sweet Jesus. What is my problem? I bought four bottles of wine, a bottle of bubbly and a box of beer. Like I could ever consume all of that in one day, well now that I am heading towards the big 3-0, the possibility of that happening is slim to none, but challenge me to a.......well nevermind now, not the point. What is the point? Oh yes, now I have A LOT of booze that I will just allow myself to drink into oblivion with the justification that it is a 'holiday'. Oh and the food.  I am definitely afraid of being hungry without means of obtaining food. I get real bitchy if I get too hungry. Most of you know that already. Sorry. So I buy a bunch of extra stuff so that I have it, then I just end up eating twice as much because its there and 'I might be hungry later'. Yeah, of course I am going to be 'hungry later' I'm an f'in human being, thats what humans do, eat, metabolize, eat, metabolize and so on and so forth. I'm like a dog. Eat as much as quickly as possible then stare at others while they finish. Gross.

Speaking of eating too much.......I knew I would run into a lot of Americans in Queenstown. It happens to be one of the most heavily touristed towns in New Zealand, a clean, first-world, English speaking country. In my past travel experiences, I have found the least amount of Americans in poor, dirty, non-English speaking countries, which is where generally I have preferred to be. Until now for some reason. So because of my job I have a lot of interaction with tourists. And a large proportion of those tourists happen to be Americans.  They are fascinated by me, a fellow countryman, living in New Zealand.  The other day I went up to a table and asked them if they wanted something to drink. The woman's eyes grew large (unfortunately not because she was about to order a Pinot Noir......) and ignored my question and demanded "WHERE ARE YOU FROM????" with a thick American accent.  And I replied "Massachusetts" and she laughed "Oh, we're from New Jersey!" First of all, I don't care. Second of all, that doesn't mean we have anything in common. Thirdly, how am I supposed to respond? 'Oh COOL, we should get coffee while you are in town, awesome, New Jersey, eh? What a great state, all those highways and stuff!' And fourth of all, if I can even say that, New Zealand is full of Americans, and Queenstown is LOADED with them. I couldn't possibly have been the first American accent she has heard in New Zealand. There are over 300 million Americans, and I am in Queenstown, New Zealand, WE ARE NOT A NOVELTY HERE! 

Get excited to have a conversation with a Kiwi.  

I had to spell Massachusetts for a customer the other day. She wasn't American, but I wouldn't have been surprised if she had been.  

Camel Toes, Skinny Jeans, and Moms in Bondage

Right.

So maybe you expect something a bit more profound for my first 'official' blog entry, aside from the 'Welcome Friends to My Page of Wisdom' bit from a few days ago.....

Well, I just have to get a few things off my chest.

First, how do women not know that they have a piece of woven material shoved up their you-know-whats? Hoo-hoo, ha-ha, wee-wee, la-la, whatever the f you call it, I haven't got time to list the countless ways you name a woman's bits. Anyway. Often when I see a phenomenon such as this, and don't ask me why I am spending so much time talking about this, or why my glance is turned toward other women's crotches, well, that's something I need to sort out for myself but anyway, what was I saying, oh yeah, what is going on here? I simply cannot imagine anything more uncomfortable than this! I truly would rather wear high heels two sizes too small (which, by the way, I am not above, and have been known on occasion to wear things that are too small for me all in the name of sex appeal, but that's another entry ENTIRELY...) than have a giant wedgie back to front or front to back or wherever that massive horrific disaster starts or finishes. Ugh. I guess if I were a man, it would be similar to having a strip of material wedged firmly BETWEEN your balls, not off to one side, or in the front, or no no no not in the back, yes RIGHT DOWN THE MIDDLE. Could someone with balls and a uterus please let me know? Thanks. There is no excuse for this. If you can't feel a camel toe, well, I suggest you make an appointment somewhere.

I have been known on occasion to say how I feel. I guess that statement should have been the first in this blog entry. Oh well. Most of you know me well enough by now to take me for what I am. That is, someone who will under no circumstances compromise my integrity when it comes to skinny jeans. They do not look good on skinny people. Or fat people. Or cute people. Or anyone AT ALL. I can't wait for this trend to go away. Especially amongst these funky little 'hipster' boys. As if we couldn't tell your bum didn't exist to begin with, please add saggy jean material and bunched up legs and wow, NOW you have a figure? Who told you that looked good? Honestly, tell me, and I will kill them for you. Its been going strong for two plus years now, and seems to be a worldwide movement! They say all good things must come to an end, yes? Well how about 'effin skinny jeans, I'm ready for this trend to hit the garbage can.

The restaurant I work at is located just next to a wicked cheesy club where girls dance on the bar Coyote Ugly style and do body shots and well, yeah thats about all the do, oh some splits sometimes, yeah its a real hoot. Anyway, they do a lot of promo work (and I use the term 'work' loosely) by prancing around town in cowboy hats, and not much by way of clothing, passing out flyers about drink specials and stuff. Well tonight, at around, 10:30 or so, just when the streets begin to heat up for the night, a femal fire dancer/twirler appeared out front and began swinging about this way and that some fire props. She was dressed in a sort of red, skin tight leatherish looking getup, that was probably about a size too big for her. So it hung around her hips and it was rolled up on the bottom, but was still tight in certain parts, and as I stared fascinatingly at this fashion specimen, with sheer concentration and my head slightly cocked to the side, a co-worker of mine stood next to me, in similar awe, and stated "that looks like something my mom would wear if she was into bondage". Right. So I just sorta pondered a bit, and murmured in agreement, and plodded off to set a table, and a millisecond later I whirled around and said "WHAT?". What a sicko. It took me a second to realize that Chris had assessed what this woman was wearing in terms of his MOTHER and BONDAGE. What was a seemingly casual statement set my psychological and sociological loins on fire (you know, if I had a separate set of 'psychological and sociological' loins). What kind of relationship between a mother and son would produce a statement like that? Do I want to know? Regardless, it was hilarious and awkwardly enough, kinda true, I mean, if you know, moms wore tightish leather outfits and you know, um, twirled fire, and er, well you know what I mean.........

Why do I care so much about other people's outfits and personal expressions of themselves or whatever you call not being naked?

You might have all been expecting a little bit more about New Zealand, but it will come, as I am living my life here, funny shit happens all the time, whether I choose to write it down or not is another story. And oh, there will be many more stories, I promise.

I like New Zealand so far, they have peanut butter and cute boys, reason enough to stay here forever, really...........Oh yeah, the scenery is pretty bitchin' too.

Just the Beginning

So..........

It's been a long time coming, this whole blog thing.....

Gone are the days of mass emails, attaching photos and all the other time consuming methods of sharing my travel tales with all of my lovelies, who are scattered all over the world!

This is my blog. I will do my best to update it as much as possible.  I've had numerous requests over the years for more email updates, which I have been quite lazy about passing around in these last few years, so I feel as though I 'owe' you all at this stage!  I think it may have started back in '04 with the motorbike accident in 'Nam, and then you all were hooked.  But that's another story entirely.......

Funny, scary, embarrassing, interesting, silly, crazy, unpredictable, and glorious. This is my life.

I hope you enjoy following along as it unfolds for me in New Zealand.........