So, tired and exhausted from my endeavors in River Valley I arrived in Wellington, (the capital of NZ) on the 23rd of March. I was spent, felt hungover, and to top it all off I had the feeling that I had spent an exorbitant amount of money in a short period of time. Combine all this with the fact that I was racing through the country so quickly I barely had time to take the pictures and I felt like a crash was imminent. So I thought to myself, "What would allow me to get centered for a few weeks, really spice things up and change the pace a little?" For some reason I thought that getting some part-time work was the answer, and since I didn't have a working visa the answer became all the more apparent. I would pick fruit for a living. I would get up at dusk, put in a hard day's work with the good old farm folk, chew some tobacco and then come home dog tired, cook a hearty meal and fall asleep at half-nine. This dream seemed to good to be true. It was. But as you shall see things are working out for the best!
Now the first thing you should understand is that I had no form of transportation. After crossing to the south island on the ferry and arriving in Picton and then Nelson I had not a clue as to where to start. So the first thing that I did was go to the employment office in the center of town and ask around. They were very helpful. And by very helpful, I mean the fat chick at the counter pulled out a copy of a newspaper that she had spilled coffee on that morning and said, "Here...the want ads are in the back." Brilliant.
Somehow through a combination of luck and a a plethora of phone calls I managed to find work at an orchard that was a 30 minute ride away in a town called Mapua. The owner of the orchard was a very pleasant fellow and he arranged it so that his brother would pick myself and a fellow traveller up each morning and take us to the orchard. The question now was a place of lodging.
You must understand that if I was to truly get in touch with myself, to "step out of the comfort zone" as it were, I needed to get in touch with the REAL New Zealand. The real New Zealand is not the backpacking hostels that dot the roads along the main strip of town but the cheap, low-budget, community accommodations where everyone who's there has something in common. They're only there because they need to work. Say hello to "Tasman Motor Camp."
This is the camp.
We were greeted at the door by the owner "Spud" , (I never got his real name,) who promptly put me in a room with two other Kiwi's. I couldn't have been luckier. Both the guys, Bede and Sam were full of life and liked nothing better than to get absolutely pissed with no apparent plan in mind. This place was hilarious and each person is a gem in and of themselves. It's not very exclusive or anything more of a combination between the Trailer Park Boys and the dirtiest staff room that Cleavland House had to offer. A high school education is a plus but by no means necessary! I'm having a blast!!!
Varoom indeed...
This is Bede.
This is Jason who's got a 10 month old daughter and a girlfriend in a nearby town and "Sharkey," an ex-con who likes nothing better than smoking a few joints and drinking 15 beers to finish off the perfect Wednesday. These guys are classic and I've had many amusing talks that lasted long into the night about a variety of topics that range from music to beer to women.
That's the camp owner "Spud" on the left. Next we have Brenden who is half native-American and half Thai. (The other's in the photo are Terry, Jason [who you already met] and Sam my other roommate. Brenden and I along with a few other travellers of the night decided to hitch a ride to an all night Drum and Base show, (think of it as a rave in the middle of the woods.) We got picked up by the owner of another orchard in his camper van and after swallowing a few beers and some party pills we were off. The highlight of the night had to be when I met a young man who introduced himself as "Buster." Wearing nothing but a mexican poncho he spent half an hour describing to me the general affects of all the acid he took a few hours before and how the cough syrup he drank had actually heightened his sense of awareness and helped balance him out. Interesting. After I managed to score a single bed all to myself in a house on wheels I woke up the next morning with a bit of a problem. The owner of the camper van was tired and decided to pass out for awhile. It was up to a few of us to find our own rides back. Luckily, some hippie freaks decided to give us a ride to a town called Richmond where we could hitch back to our trailer park pretty easily. The people in this camper van were a lot of fun. All decked out in the color's of the rainbow, both lips pierced, those weird fire tools that are used at outdoor gigs, with a little puppy dog in tow. I noticed that one of them had "The Doors" sticker on his hat and I asked him if he liked the band. He replied that he didn't know who they were. It was at this point that I noticed he was using his fingers to spread jam on a piece of bread and was looking a little groggy-eyed from the night before so I left him alone for the duration of the trip. After getting dropped off in Richmond, Brenden and I bummed around for awhile before we stuck out our thumbs and caught a ride back to Mapua around at around noon.
So what exactly do I do all day? Well I pick apples, and it's just as glorious as it sounds. You start at one end of the row in the field and you work to the other. You get 32$ a bin, I usually pick just over 3 bins a day and after the government takes its hard earned share of my profits I end up clearing 75$ a day. It's not bad when you consider that a week's stay at the camp is only $85, but hey, you get what you pay for!!!
I'm outta here on Thursday! I'm going to rent a place in Nelson, get a little whiskey and just relax until the Kiwi bus rolls up to babysit me all the way to Westport! Love you all, please feel free to e-mail me as I think I'm becoming slightly unhinged!! HA HA!!!
