Palmerston North: Take 2

The last weekend, for a change of pace, a chance to try out the Merc on the open road, and to put a little distance between us and the apples, we decided that it would be nice to take a road trip down to Palmerston North (from We All Almost Die) to visit Sarah (and hopefully not get attacked by zombies or propositioned to buy meth). It was origionally going to be a big, group outing, but eventually everyone except us dropped out. Buzz got a job, which I feel like I must applaud him for...Clara ended up taking a trip to the water park with her family while Sam is unemployed and thusly opted to stay home. 

The drive south was absolutely beautiful...we were essentially the only car on the road the whole way, the clouds were stunning, it was amazing! We arrived at Palmy and had to interpret the Google Maps directions somwhat, as I had opted to ignore then thus far. After driving around town stumbling over the Maori street names, Keller let us know that he knew where we were supposed to go all a long - Noah and I were simply yelling too loudly to hear him in the back seat. We quickly located Sarah's sister's house, and pulled up outside. After we met her sister and brother-in-law-to be, we headed to her friends house.

Upon arriving at Haley and Andrew's, we settled down to a barbecue (the first of many, as it would turn out) and several bottles of the drink that would essentially come to encompass our entire weekend, Barrell 51 Bourbon and Cola. We had a very relaxing evening, delicious steaks and burgers, and lovely chats before settling down to bed.  

The next morning, while Keller and Noah were still whiling away the morning in bed, I drove Sarah to work. She wrote down the directions as we went along, and hopped out of the car with the parting words "so you have the directions...just get back on Pioneer Highway. Pick me up at 3 and we can go see the Christmas parade". Yeah. I backtrack, exactly as I remember going...but cannot find Pioneer Highway. Anywhere. Eventually I get fed up of driving around aimlessly amongst the auto-part stores that absolutely litter Palmy, and decided (instead of asking someone for directions) to go find a map. I head to the Square where I remember the i-Site being from our last go around, however, there is some sort of street fair so the roads are nearly impassible. After searching for a parking spot for the better part of half an hour, I run in and grab a map. Now armed with some sort of guidance, I make my way back to Haley and Andy's. Along the way, I notice that the first turn that I took was in fact the correct one. Why didn't I notice it? Because it was called Main St. where it crossed the road I was origionally on...and about a block down there was a little sign that said "Now Becoming Pioneer Highway". Maybe they couldn't decide on which name to use...who knows. Driving down the main road to H&A's cul de sac, I kept a watchfull eye out for thier street. However, I found myself driving out of the town and into the country side. What? I got worried that I had been heading the wrong direction entirely, because I never saw the sign for thier road. So I turned around and started backtracking once again, when I noticed the problem. A&H's road intersected with the cross street I was on at a T. Directly across from thier road was a sign that said "Alaska Rd." However, this was a trap. There is no Alaska Rd. Not on the map...definitly not occupying any physical space around the sign...no where. The sign for thier street was hidden behind a tree on one of the corners. After being made fun of by Haley for a while, we took off for the Manawatu Gorge. We stopped by Pak n Save on the way there to pick up some lunch and beer, and so say "hi" to Sarah. When we returned to our car, we noticed that gas was absolutely jetting out of the bottom. We did what any sensible people would do when presented with such a crisis...got burgers. After that we stopped by a BP, and discovered that no mechanics are open on weekends. I think that we should ignore the leak, while Noah thinks we should fix it. I argue against this on the grounds that I mave essentially no mechanical background and want to go for a swim. We decide on somewhat of a compromise, and go to Pak n Save to buy tape and (surprise) balloons - the idea being to tape a balloon over the leaky bit, thus solving the problem. We get all our tools sorted (balloons, tape, and my swiss army knife) and Noah quickly scamperd under the car, while I stand by his feet and act as a sort of traffic cone to divert passing motorists from his protruding legs. He wriggles back out a couple of minutes later with many, many broken balloons and the side of his head absolutely covered in gas. From the left he looks fine, but turn him around and his hair becomes jet black and sticks out sideways. We look at each other for a minute, and unanimously and wordlessly decide it's time for a beer, so we drive off, fuel adrip, to the gorge. 

On the way there, we discuss what may have caused the leak, and decide that it may well have been the days and days of driving through potholes and over uneven grass and gravel to get out to the orchard. So of course when we get to the bottom of the road and notice that people have driven thier cars (which we notice later to be exclusively 4 wheel-drives) over the rocky, dry riverbed to where the lowered river is actually flowing, we make the kind of educated decision that came from several months of living and functioning on our own - and drive the merc right on out there. Once we are all tired of hearing the other 2 say what a bad idea this was (about 5 minutes) we pull over to the side of the track and park. Noah promptly scuttles back under the car. Keller and I head into the river, looking for a deep spot to float for a bit. We venture upstream for a piece and come to a Huck Finn-style jetty, that we decide to investigate. We try to climb up the bank, but quickly discovered that the river-bed and the banks of the river were composed entirely of the most viscous, deep mud that we have ever encountered. Keller finds a hatchet in the woods on the bank, and I find a log that I make into a raft, and he head back to the car. 

We began the drive back to Haley's house where a disheveled and petrol-drenched Noah hoped to take a shower before Haley left at 3pm to get tea for Andrew and his fellow cricketeers. We neared the town center, only to find massive detours in place for the Christmas parade. Following tradition, we got lost and all begin screaming at passers by, fellow drivers, and whatever civil engineers designed the streets of Palmy. We finally got to Haley's to discover that she has left. Needless to say, Noah is upset. However, it is time to pick up Sarah from work, and Noah looks foreward to showering at her sister's. With Sarah aboard we arrive at Emma and Kevin's, and Noah hops straight into the shower and Kevin comes out to take a look at our gas leak. After jacking up the back end in a precarious manner and writhing around under there for a while, Kevin tells us that he can see the leak, but the fuel hose will need to be replaced - which requires a mechanic, all of whom are closed for the weekend. He went on to say, however, much to our excitement, that he could call AA (Kiwi AAA - not the support group), tell them that it was his car and they'd have it fixed straight away and for free! He phoned them up, but came back with a somber expression on his face. "They said that it's too dangerous for them to fix a gas leak in such hot weather, and that we'd have to have the fire department come by and drain the tank first." The Kiwi consensus was that the call the the fire station would end up costing us $300, so we decided to stay in Palmy for the weekend, and fix the car early Monday and head home then. 

Sarah promised us that that night we were going to get a taste of the Palmy nightlife and meet some more of her friends, so we waited for Haley to come pick us up and we were off. 

We had a couple of celebratory Barrell 51s with Andy as his team had won the cricket game, and then took a cab to a flat of thier friends. In the cab, on the way there, the driver told us about a cabbie in Christchurch who was stabbed to death the night before - and explains that the company told the drivers to be extra cautious. He is visibly shaken. Upon exiting the cab, while everyone is exchanging pleasantries with the driver, I (kindly, in my thinking) advise him to "try not to get stabbed." Andy thinks that this is hilarious, but no one else does. The flat was almost straight out of Animal House - decorated in the standard bunch-of-guys-in-a-flat style (i.e. messy). We were greeted by two of Andy's friends who we had met the previous day, and were also introduced to the various other guests. Half of the ones I remember was Ben, an absolutely massive and genuinely friendly Maori. The other half consisted of a girl who had, at one point in her life, met several guys from Iowa. She thought that it would be appropriate (as they were from my homeland) to tell me all about them, and was pleased to the point of mild cardiac arrest when I informed her that I had heard of Des Moines. After "several" more drinks and an absolutely hilarious but slightly risque act of comedy from Andy, we headed off into town - just a couple of blocks away. As we neared the bar, we passed a group of guys sitting around in thier cars on the side of the road who started making cat-calls and shouting general unpleasantries at the women we were with. Enboldened by the bourbon I turned and began shouting back at them, until Sarah came back and led me away by the arm saying "you're going to get yourself killed". 

Murphy's, the irish pub and hopping night bar, was absolutely packed when we arrived. The standard friday-night-"Irish"  band was playing, and playing pretty well. I ordered a round of bourbon, the plan being to while away my inhibitions to the point where I could dance like a Kiwi. In contrast to standard American dance, where one physically dances (fairly intimately, at times) with a partner, the hip NZ style is something I can only describe as the "stereotypical white person dance", where people dance in groups, sort of milling about, but all in the stereotyped "white" way. 

We finally began the search for a taxi home after a couple games of pool (and much humiliation, on my part). We stopped by Jester's to get pies on the way, and it was truly astounding. A hot, freshly made pie at 3am after a long and wild night is more than endorphins alone can cope with. I was euphoric beyond belief. We finally secured a cab, and had just settled in for a nice quiet ride home when the driver tuned to Andrew. "You don't remember me, do you?" When Andy replied to the negative, the cabbie went on "We went to school in (NZ town) together. Is that your brother, Scott back there too? I remember (now talking to Scott, while driving) that in (long ago)th form you stole my tennis ball." This was atleast 15 years ago, and it was clearly something that really stuck with the poor guy. 

The next morning, asising from bed at the crack of noon, I settled into the sofa in the living room where everyone was gathered, slightly haggared looking, recounting the previous night's events. Haley mentioned being nearly assaulted (spit on, atleast) by an angry midget, something I had forgotten or been absent for. I was very amused. On the way out the door, Andy asked us if we needed anything from the store. We told him no, and he asked us "but if I make a feed you'll still have some, right?". His feed turned out to be sausage, bacon, eggs and toast, all prepared on the barbecue ("there's no clean-up" was his explanation). I had earlier been expressing my longing for an American diner-style breakfast, and was overjoyed. Well fed, Keller, Noah and I took off with Andrew to watch some of a neighborhood cricket game. The major thing I noticed, and what kept me entertained, was the relaxed feel of the game. Hardly anyone ever set out in a dead sprint. If the ball was a little too far away, or the run to the far wicket looked risky, they happily just stood where they were, or make a half-hearted attempt before turning and jogging back to thier origional position in a nonchalant sort of way. I decided that cricket was, more or less, my kind of sport. Andy dropped us off at thier place, where we grabbed Sarah, and after saying our goodbyes, took off for Emma and Kev's. 

We arrived pleased to see that our car had not exploded from the gas leak (a fear of Emma's) and noted that the 2 liter or so jug we put under the drip was nearly full. We saw our last Palmy sunset (particularly intense, and fairly stunning) in a park after having enjoyed a dinner of fish and chips. On the walk back to the house, I explored the facets of my distaste for the every-day use of corrugated iron (nearly everywhere - fences, rooves (roofs?), sheds - along the road we were on had soem sort of corrugated iron feature). Kevin gave us the name of a good mechanic in town, and after rejecting my offer of the gas that had leaked from the merc as a gift of thanks, he and Emma retired to bed, and we soon followed suit. 

Monday morning came, and it was time for us to be heading home. After a breakfast of toast and marmite (for me and Sarah...honey for Noah and Keller) we said farewell and headed to the garage, where we left the car for about half an hour. We used the time to get another Jester's pie. Walking back to the garage, we stopped by a sporting goods store. Idly pawing through merchandise, we noticed that cricket bats can cost over $400, and I quickly reversed my earlier decision: cricket is definitely not my sport.  

We were back on the road, heading home, after getting the car back (repaired, but only mostly as we would find out later) having enjoyed a great weekend. 

So that was that...tuesday work was rained out, so we had a much-appreciated 4-day weekend. This weekend my fam is out - and we had a lovely morning tea with Bian, Wendy and BG. Next week may be our last week of thinning...before we either take a break or move on to stonefruit or grapes. If we work Christmas/New Years we get 1.5x pay and one day of paid vacation, so working may be a nice thing to do for the holidays - but I'm ready for some more time off to take another little trip. 

Right now I'm lying in my luxurious Queen-size bed (made from an ingenious conjoining of two single beds) and thinking of creative and entertaining ways to cut off out neighbor's electricity as I lie awake listening to the thumping bass from her techno rave. Wish me a good night and us luck...we'll be sure to get out there more and have many more adventures and exciting tales to tell!