New Beginnings, Fresh Air, Palmerston, Little River Missions

7 Feb

After I dropped Simon off in Ranfurly, I no longer had a distraction. The tears exploded from my face. I hadn’t cried like this in years. It was good for me. I needed this. It was cleansing my soul. I cried the entire way to Palmerston. I guess I hadn’t cleansed my soul in this way in quite some time, so I welcomed my tears with love. I wanted to stop my car, but I needed to be on the ocean. I missed it. I hadn’t seen the ocean waters in two months. I needed the cleansing energy and clarity. I just had to keep driving, no matter how hard I cried. I have to admit, I was surprised at how much I cried. .

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I arrived at Shag point Beach in Palmerston. Thank goodness for this place. It was literally as if someone had flipped a switch. As soon as I saw the ocean waters, my tears dried up. My soul was cleansed. I climbed down the rocks in my bare feet and ran directly to the water. I had to get my feet wet. I had to touch it. I found a spot near the water and sat on the sandy beautiful beach. I didn’t think about anything. I simply asked the ocean for clarity. After about an hour, I realized I had reception and 3G (this is a big deal in NZ!), so I called a very dear friend of mine back in the states, with whom I hadn’t spoken in some time. It was refreshing, and inspirational. My heart still hurt, but it was beginning to understand what my soul had already known. This is my life. I need these lessons. Friends must part ways at times, and may never see one another again. I have big goals in life. I am going to save the world. I need to be able to do these things. It’s a beautiful gift. Besides, Sascha will always be a part of my life, regardless of any sort of distance. I had learned everything that my heart needed me to learn for that chapter in my life and it is time to learn more.

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After a sufficient amount of mending beach time, I headed to grab some fish n’ chips. Also, the Palmerston Fish n’ Chips shop was supposed to be the best in all of New Zealand, so I HAD to give it a try!

I scarfed down the most epic fish n’ chips I have ever eaten in my life, slammed and L&P (epic Kiwi drink), took a deep breath, and drove to Cath’s farm. My soul was excited.

Cath hadn’t been feeling well. She was napping when I arrived, and it was about 17:30. She looked terrible. After some investigation we discovered she had a bit of heat exhaustion. It was terrifying to see her this way, and I was quite worried. We chatted and caught up on past times, and cooked some fresh organic veggies. It was so nice to be back here, a place full of love and awesome energy. In addition, it was also quite nice to be around another strong woman. It was exactly the thing that my heart and soul needed. Cath is such an inspiration to me. I would spend two days here, wwoofing one of the days, then heading to Little River for my next adventure.

It was difficult sleeping that night, since it was the first time I had been without Sascha in nearly two months. Even with the help of valerian root, I struggled a bit. My heart was in shock.

The next morning I helped Cath with the milking. Luckily she felt much better. I did some gardening for my daily work. In the middle of the day Cath took a nap, so I detailed her car for her while she slept off her heat exhaustion. She had planned to do it, but there was no way I was letting her do that in the hot sun. When I finished, I headed to shag point for some beach hooping and sun soaking. It was needed.

Later on that evening a French wwoofer arrived. I feel bad, but I don’t remember his name. He was a nice guy. I had to share my hut with him, but it wasn’t so bad because it was a very large hut and the beds were on opposite sides, so it was like I had my own room. He wasn’t a creeper either, so it was okay.

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The next morning I didn’t have to work, so I definitely slept in. I felt like death. I couldn’t figure out why, but I felt as if I were getting sick. I know my allergies are bizarre here, but I felt horrible. Even after ten hours sleep and coffee, I felt like crap. I organized my things, said goodbye to Cath, and headed toward the Banks Peninsula. It would be a 4 hour drive at least, but it was okay. For some reason though, I didn’t feel great about this. It had nothing to do with Sascha or anything; I just felt bad energy about Little River. I did some soul searching to make sure I was doing the right thing by going there, and I believed I was. I had crazy images in my head about all sorts of bad things happening there. It was really gnarly. I wondered if I was going crazy. I wondered if I was making a mistake. I trusted that I was doing the right thing, and continued on.

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Moeraki Boulders-On the way to Little River (=

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Also at Moeraki. I’m in love with this little guy. I basically need to keep it.

Halfway there, I grew so tired I couldn’t keep my eyes open. My chest hurt, and my eyes were swollen. This was really weird because I slept plenty, but I pulled over and took a nap for at least an hour on the side of the road.

After my slumber, I grabbed a coffee and continued pushing on. Because of all my stops, it wasn’t until about 19:00 that I arrived at the campground. I pulled up, and Marcus met me at the reception office. We made some small talk, during which I mentioned my home brew. He immediately gave me a beer and said that in 2 days when my beer is ready, he wants to try it.

He explained that there would be a drum festival all weekend that I would be helping out with, and that I am only required to work 2 or 3 hours a day for my accommodation. Because he was a vegan, the wwoofers looked after their own food. I was able to stay in a huge cabin my first night. I was stoked! Along the way I met a man named Angelo, from Sicily, and Francois, from France. I was feeling a bit sick still, so I wasn’t too entirely social. I drank my beer in the kitchen where I also worked on my first blog in a long time. I was feeling a bit weird about being here, and wasn’t too sure about it. I don’t know where this ambivalence came from, so I assumed it was just resistance, and I let it go. I must always remain open to every situation.

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Drum Festival, Little River NZ. Love & Light!

In between, I learned that Anni had not given me Comfrey root to make shampoo from; it was actually Digitalis, a highly poisonous plant that is used in heart medication for high BP, and can actually slow the heart enough to make it stop. This explains my chest pains! I had been washing my hair with poison! I immediately threw it all out and took another shower. I literally instantly felt better. Lesson learned!

Later that evening I met the girlfriend of Francois, Aude, and Aude’s mother, Servane. Servane spoke little English, but she had the most loving and beautiful energy. It was quite amazing! Everyone was very nice. This was exactly the group of people that I needed to be around. They were my new angels!

For the next two days I would sleep in my tent because of the drum festival. This was absolutely no problem for me, I loved sleeping outside! It was especially epic because I pitched my tent next to a roaring mountain stream, under the native bush where all of the beautiful singing native birds lived, and would serenade me in the morning. Also, it was next to the French family, so I was happy to be their neighbors.

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The day of the drum festival was actually quite easy. We maybe worked for an hour, then popped open the home brew! Aude and I had bonded as well, and shared heaps of laughs. I was really grateful to have met such a wonderful family. I feel like we had a great connection and it didn’t take long to connect.

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Unreal Japanese Drummers

The drum festival was epic. We took part in heaps of drumming workshops, belly dancing, African dancing, etc. The African dance instructor was actually from Chicago, so that was pretty cool as well. I was able to rock out my hula hoops, and I slept like an angel in my tent.

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When the festival ended, we all drove to the top of the hill for ice cream as a group. We packed into Angelo’s rental campervan illegally sitting on his bed the whole way, and shared laughs the whole way up. When we reached the Hilltop Café, we were blessed with the most beautiful view of Akaroa Harbour, accompanied by the brightest full moon I have ever seen. The Japanese man at the café had been a drummer in the festival, and recognized us, so he stayed open long enough to serve us some gelato. That’s typical here. New Zealanders are mostly like this. We finished our gelato and headed back home.

While laying in my tent that night, I posted a quick add on the wwoofing hotlist, because Marcus was running out of work for us, and everyone was leaving two days from that day (I have no concept of dates or time anymore-all I knew was that Achim was coming on the 5th of February, so I needed to hang out in the Christchurch area and wwoof until he got here). I noticed that night that I received an email from a “Glen & Ivy”. They were 5kms down the road in Little River! Their profile looked great, even though they had a baby; they said she slept through the night. Shortly after I got his email, I received a text from Glen. I told him I could come in two days. He said that they had only a small house, and three other wwoofers were arriving that day as well, so I’d have to sleep in my tent. Again, this was no problem for me. I love my tent!

On the last day at the camping grounds, I went on some of the walks all around the hills to check out the beautiful sights. It was pretty incredible, and a hike through the native bush was exactly the thing that my soul needed. When I returned from my walk, I packed up my tent and moved back into the cabin for the night. Aude greeted me at the cabin, and we sat down for a home brew. Francois joined us, and said that he found a bird. We went to check it out. It was a baby wood pigeon-a native bird here. We put it in a box and I called the Department of Conservation to see what we could do about it. They said they would come first thing in the morning.

Later on that evening we had a massive BBQ over the bon fire. Everyone contributed, and Francois cooked for us. I shared my last beers of the stout batch with everyone, and we all shared many laughs. I received another text from Glen, inviting me to join him and Ivy for dinner that evening, but I explained to him that I was having my last family meal with friends at the campground.

The next morning we would all part ways. It was brief, but beautiful. Everyone had wonderful energy. Unfortunately the baby bird had gotten away, so I can only hope that it survived. We all said goodbye, and I headed to town to buy another home brew kit for my next batch of beer, and then headed to Glen & Ivy’s.

Glen had texted me and said that he would be working that day in the art gallery, and to pop in on my way through town. I stopped in the art gallery just because I wanted to see it, but I didn’t go looking for anyone. I had no desire to, and I’m not sure why.

After a brief meander I headed to my destination. When I pulled up to the house, there were about ten old-school Hondas parked all over. I wasn’t sure where to park my own car! I ran up to the door to meet Ivy and see where to put my car. This place had weird energy. I recognized it and let it go. I have to always be open.

I walked to the back of the house, where I was greeted by a beautiful blonde girl, doing some weeding. I introduced myself and asked where Ivy was. She said the baby was sleeping so she would get her for me.

I have to admit, I was a bit shocked when Ivy walked out the door. It was a weird feeling, because for as shocked as I was, I almost expected this. I’m far from psychic, but I have incredible intuition, and I trust it.

An incredibly young and beautiful Japanese woman walked out of the back door. It was Ivy. She spoke quietly, softly, and surprisingly, not very good English. She said she had been in NZ for seven years with Glen. If I could be in Germany for 16 weeks and speak okay German, I couldn’t understand how she couldn’t speak very well after seven years. I let it go. It is not my right to judge, but I did simply acknowledge it. She showed me where to park my car.

By this time the other girls had finished their duties for the day. The other two girls were sisters from France, named Charlotte and Julie. They didn’t have a car, so they arrived via hitchhiking. They also spoke very little English. They seemed quite nice regardless of language communication. They had good energy. Ivy made us all a coffee and a tea, and brought our cuppas out to the picnic table out back where we were sitting. I noticed that Charlotte’s mug had a naked porn star on it. It was a bit out of the ordinary, but I acknowledged it and made a mental note. When Ivy wasn’t around, I asked them if they had met Glen yet and if he was nice. They said yes. I was curious to see what kind of guy he was. Things didn’t make sense, or feel right. I didn’t pitch my tent, or even unpack anything, in case I decided to leave. I’m not sure why I felt this way, but something strange was in the air.

I did some weeding and watering, just my fair share of work for my dinner, and then Glen came home. I was sitting at the table with the French girls, starving because I had not eaten all day, and I heard a loud motor bike. There were at least ten of those parked out front as well. I was just observing though, not judging. (I was in love with the Hondas!). A middle aged, grey haired, tattooed man walked into the back yard. He had an energy about him that reeked of insecurity and insensitivity. He had a look on his face that I could read clearly. If I were to see him on the street and see the way that he carried himself, I would think that he was an asshole. That’s terrible, I know, but those were the vibes I received. Again, I stayed open. Many people misjudge me at first, then love me, so I simply acknowledged it and saw past it.

I introduced myself. He shook my hand with a terribly weak handshake, and headed to the backyard to dig potatoes for dinner.

Dinner. If that’s what one would call it. Apparently there would be another wwoofer arriving later in the evening, and we had to save a plate for them. He assured that there is always plenty of food, and that we could have “seconds” so long as we saved a plate for the late arriving wwoofer. This seemed impossible. The French girls and I had very small portions, and Glen had a mountain of food on his plate. Everyone sat around the coffee table and chatted a wee bit over “dinner”…or whatever it was that we were having. At one point the baby, Evie, took her bib and threw it in Glen’s plate. Everyone laughed (mostly to humor the weirdoes), and Glen immediately tossed it on the floor, looked at his baby daughter with a smile and said, “You little bitch! That’s not very funny!”, as if it were okay to speak to anyone that way. I found this very bizarre. I acknowledged it and moved on. I still hadn’t pitched my tent, and I still wasn’t convinced that this place was okay. Still, there was something here for me to learn and I could feel it, as crazy as that sounds. The other wwoofer arrived during dinner. Much to my surprise (insert sarcasm), it was another girl. This was a German girl from Koeln. At this point I had wondered if this was not a coincidence. But, I stayed open, but this time with open eyes as well.

After dinner I did the washing up. I don’t know why, but I enjoy this. Perhaps because it’s thoughtless, and as Bob Berry (my Cambrian wwoof host) would say, “Anything that one can do that doesn’t require thought, is meditation”. I agreed with this. While I did the washing up, Glen went to town to buy some beer and wine.

I started another batch of beer as well, so while Glen was in town I took care of my beer. I like to utilize places that have fresh mountain spring water. The more pure I can make my beer, the better and happier it is and I am!

Glenn returned home with beer and wine. While I was in the porch finishing up my beer and showing the German girl who had been quite intrigued, Glen informed us that there were beers on the counter (or as New Zealanders call it, the bench) waiting for us. I figured I may as well enjoy an expensive beer, since dinner consisted of nothing. Then perhaps I could make conversation and make sense of this place, because at this point noting made sense. The older French sister, Charlotte, went off to bed in her tent and happily declined a beer. Julie joined us for a beer, but she got her own from the fridge. I found another stout from my home brew, so I poured everyone a wee glass to try that as well. (Everyone has been raving about my home brew, and by home brew I mean Hobo Brew from my car/tent, so I think I have something going here!). I drank about four fingers of beer from my bottle. In about five minutes, I rubbed my face. It was an all familiar feeling. I have spent much time in hospitals with things exploding inside my body and post op stuff, and know exactly how one feels on morphine, the exact moment it kicks in. It is a rush of tingly crazy numbness, with a mixture of slowed heartbeats with a sudden loss of inhibitions. I put my beer down and tried to focus. Maybe I was tired. Maybe my allergies were bad. Maybe I was crazy. I thought the worst, but again, tried to focus through it. I have drunk beer often with Sascha, and it takes more than four fingers of beer to get this gal tingly and blazed. I decided not to drink anymore of the beer to see what happens. I noticed the German girl only drank half of her beer as well.

I focused on the conversation. I asked Glen how he and Ivy met, because I was dying to know. They hadn’t interacted whatsoever. Ivy was basically like his zombie girlfriend slave. It was really odd, and didn’t make sense to me. Even then, as we had a cocktail and shared stories; she sat by herself at the other end of the room and drank wine, and said nothing.

I’m pretty sure this should have been the red flag, but by this time, I was as high as a kite. It was as if I had taken in a whole drip of morphine, plus cocaine. I was at the hyperactive, super talkative, super happy phase. I looked down at my beer and it was empty. Apparently I had finished it after all. I opened a second, but I was still a bit conscious, and made sure I opened it myself, or perhaps I just drank my own brew at this point, it’s a bit fuzzy.

Ivy was Glen’s wwoofer seven years ago. He didn’t go into detail at all, he just said that she was his wwoofer. Of course, in my state of mind, I thought this was a beautiful love story. Then he went on to talk about a painting on the wall that his mother made of his older daughter. She was in her early 20s, and lived in Christchurch (CHCH for short). CHCH is only an hour away or less, depending on the region. I asked if she ever came to visit, especially because she has a baby sister and everything, and he said that she doesn’t. He also mentioned being in jail when he was a late teenager. All of these things stuck somewhere in some level of consciousness, meant to be sorted by a sober brain.

After some time, I built up my tent in the back yard, and said goodnight. I was flying too high to sleep, so I opened a bottle of wine that someone somewhere had gifted me with. I sat in my tent and drank about half the bottle to myself, alone. I posted dumb things on facebook and was completely out of my mind. Eventually I passed out.

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The next morning we had to get up at 7, because Glen had to leave for work early and wanted to show us some jobs that he needed done. Ivy would also be gone for a small portion of the late morning until lunch time, so he wanted to be sure we knew what we were doing. Fair enough. When I woke up my head was full of clouds. I could not focus on anything or think properly at all. My heart was racing, my head was pounding, and my eyes were swollen. It wasn’t quite a hangover, it was as if I took fifteen bong hits or something. My mind just wasn’t there. When I walked into the house, the French girls were still sleeping so there was just the German girl and me at the coffee table. Glen had prepared the coffees already, and told us to make up our own breakfast. He also asked Ivy when she would be home, because he wanted her to make only certain things for us for lunch, and was very concerned about us making our own lunches. I acknowledged this somewhere in some conscious part of my brain, but I could not comprehend anything properly. I was a complete zombie. I noticed the glaze in the German girl’s eyes as well. Maybe it was just me.

Glen didn’t actually show us anything, which was weird. I didn’t understand why we had to rise so early, because he could have explained everything the night before. Something was weird.

Another red flag. One of the jobs was to get some more fire wood from the hill and stack it in front of the house. There were some potted plants on top of the wood that he said we must be very careful with, because they are peyote cacti. He laughed and said that he had one for 35 years, and now he is growing more and it’s very important not to destroy or disturb them.

My brain wasn’t able to comprehend this in the moment, but this information was also stored in my consciousness somewhere.

Glen left, and we all began our duties for the day. We harvested some veggies, and cleaned up a walking path to through the native bush. At one point there was a bird in a tree making noise, and I thought that it was telling me something. Then I thought I had lost my mind officially. Then I began to wonder what was in my beer, and perhaps my coffee too. I was out of my mind. I was seeing things that were not there.

To my beautiful surprise, Sascha had texted me and said that they would be in CHCH for a day or two. I told him I could meet him there and go camping, then wwoof again when he moved on. I was excited from the top of my heart to the bottom of my soul! I would stop my work early and pack my things to head to CHCH for two days, and let Glen and Ivy know….or so I thought….

After cleaning out the passage way through the bush, I began to pack my things. My head also began to clear. Lunchtime was nearing. I was also quite hungry. Something told me not to eat any of the food though. I began to have flashes of all of the red flags. I felt scared and nervous, and an overwhelming sense to get the hell out of there while everyone was gone. I thought I may have been crazy. I thought about Ivy, and her zombie state of mind, I wondered about the peyote, about Ivy, about us girls. I packed my things quickly. I wondered if I was crazy as well. I felt crazy. My head was not right in the moment. I thought about the bird in the tree that I thought was giving me a warning. I thought I had gone mad. You hear about those things…people travel the world and just lose it. I worried that it had happened to me. I had become a paranoid skitzo. Great.

I loaded up my car and told the girls I’d be back in two days, and walked toward the back gate. As my hand touched to gate, my right foot forward, something sent an overwhelming shock of consciousness throughout my entire body, just a bolt of lightning. Maybe I wasn’t crazy. Maybe Glen is building some sort of sex trafficking thing here…you read about this in the paper…girls go missing and then fifteen years later they are living in a tent in someone’s backyard, strung out on who knows what…Maybe I am paranoid, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. Then the icing on the cake occurred to me…I remembered that Glen had been texting me the night before asking if I needed to sleep in the house with them. There was only one room and one bed, their bed. He was persistent, and luckily my subconscious mind has survivor mode and knows better. I quickly ran to the back yard and told the girls what I thought. I first explained it in German, and then explained it in my best kindergarten English, and the German girl re-explained to them with her broken French. The German girl drove a motorcycle, which wasn’t helpful for the French girls, and my car is a brewery, with only one seat available, but we would make it work. We crammed the girls’ luggage into my car as fast as we could, and they sat on one another’s laps until we could get out of Little River and readjust. It was terrifying, rushing to get out of there before anyone came home. A confrontation was the last thing we needed. We decided to meet the German girl in CHCH, and she was nice enough to take one of Julie’s bags.

There we were, escaping, and laughing about this adventure. This was why I was there. If I weren’t there, these girls would have either learned something the hard way, or become victims. And, perhaps, nothing at all may have happened. Luckily, we will not know. If I am going to save the world, these are the things that I must do. I wasn’t worried, afraid, or sad, but rather happy to have been in the right place at the right time, and been open enough to learn why I was there. The universe brings everything together as it needs to be brought, but it is our conscious choice to be open to it, and make the right decisions. This is why I had bad visions the entire drive to Little River, and why I was not looking forward to this journey. It’s all clear now.

I was immediately overwhelmed with excitement and joy. This happens when something amazing awaits me. I knew Sascha would be there in CHCH at some point to meet me, but there was something else. There was a strong energy attracting me to CHCH, it was almost magnetic. I got the chills thinking about it in excitement. Every day is new, and every day brings new gifts. Even this experience with Glen was a gift. I saved three girls, simply because I am me.

 

We stopped on the side of the road so that I could tie a large suitcase to the top of my car and the girls could readjust. Our drive would be about an hour. I had some rope in my tent, so I took it out and found it, and strapped it to my roof. Julie put my tent back in the back, they hopped in the front seat, and we headed to CHCH full of smiles and laughter.

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