part 2.

part 2 is essentially this: break finished with a trip to a 4 day beach track which ultimately ended in disaster and our water taxi nearly killing four penguins (duck!). day one was beautiful and we kayaked through all of it and narrowly avoided the cracken in the mist. then it poured for four days straight in the sunniest part of nz and lets just say our little crew of four independent females were less then travel-compatible. cutting the trip one day early, we travel back to a tiny town outside of Nelson book a hostel and feign relaxation with bad beer and tense massages and dampened spirits and belongings because we were defeated by the same mother i worship. the next day rain remains but we collide with a very agreeable little hippie town and one of the greatest confectionery delights i've ever known...afghans, learn it and live it. this place reminded me of Floyd and smelled like Blacksburg, we played mancala in the mussel in and my favorite bob dylan song came on, the last song i listened to in our beautiful wooden living room before the plane. we stayed in my favorite hostel yet, big open wooden kitchen and a bowl of giant figs and a sheep sheerer with many stories; glacial galaxies and senior skiing (free if your over 65 but the powder's nothing like the west, amen brother.) He'd only ever seen a kiwi once and it was the one his dog killed. gardens in the rain and a thick matress and a cairn on the sunset beach because a year ago weighed on the brain. but what doesn't kill you makes you stronger...even if it says beach track, doesn't mean you should hike in chacos.
a day later i took off on a four day ecology field trip in the thick of the southern alps. surrounded by strangers, and the token american this was what turned out to be one of the absolute highlites of our fall break. we set out each frosty morning after a night of mountain goating in the moonshadows, setting up and checking aquatic insect traps in alpine streams. we climbed "hills" (Appalachian mountain sized hills i'd say) to incredible heights and views, me and the boys club forestry seems to be even across seas. at the summit we drink from an alpine pool and the men feel like men and sun with their shirts off good grief. The descent ultimately turned out to be one of the greatest tramp hours in new z yet. no trail, our fate in the hands of fearless leather skinned scrappy professor-type leader, and our compass. we bounded down slopes swinging through a beech tree slalom, leaving fate to gravity and chance and the occasional acrobatic twist to avoid the spinier vegetation. three hours later we popped out on a dried river bed and followed it back to our hut, to count dead bugs.

i came home after three weeks to a fantail in the house (a tiny bird that makes kissing noises and follows your footsteps in the woods) and i remembered how much i wanted to be like penny lane after a much needed movie screening in fresh sheets and tim tams.