Penultimate Night

So I haven't posted in a while because I haven't felt like it. I've gotten a bit lazy maybe. I don't know. I'm feeling sort of blah at the moment. And, I have a sneaking suspicion its this damn anticipation of leaving. As my mom astutely pointed out "you always leave before you leave"...which, is definitely true. The one exception: college. There. I was not ready to leave and I arguably haven't left. But, I am hoping and trying not to leave New Zealand until I actually leave. I think a change of scenery will do me good. Begin another chapter and thoughts of ending will necessarily be delayed. So I leave, most likely Sunday morning. It's Friday night now and it seems I will delay my departure originally schedule for tomorrow morning...another day. Three new WWOOFers have arrived here two Americans and a German. I'm beginning to now think that New Zealand is filled with Americans and Germans. They are definitely the majority. Although, prior to Rongo's I haven't encountered many Americans at all. Germans aplenty though.

things have been continuing as normal here. Still working, still same old same old. We've had a string of good weather and I stole away to the beach by myself again a few days ago. It was nice. Ran until I was tired passed out on the sand for a while, went for a swim in the ocean and then dried off in the sun and ran back. It's quite fun. And I quite enjoy it. I enjoy the sun really. But we all knew that.

Prior to the arrival of the two new American WWOOFers the only other American, Kyle the resident artist and I cooked up a delicious Mexican dinner for the crew (mexican is so good and I'm going through SERIOUS withdrawl) so yeah. We had deliciousness for dinner before starting the inaugural Damn Yanks Radio Show. You'll recall that Rongo's has it's own local radio station that is broadcast 24/7 without ANY commercials (except a plug for Kyle's art classes). We are allowed to host a radio show pretty much whenever we want. and so we elected to host one apres Mexican Dinner. It was fantastic. It lasted four hours and it was four hours of fun. We went through our fair share of beer and just basically had a wild time. We recorded it and so tomorrow's task will be attempting to burn it on CD. You may request copies. Haha, four hours. I'm not sure who wants a copy of a four hour radio show. But hey. It was fun and cool and we had a blast. Complete with fuck-ups like Kyle leaving the mic on after starting a song and therefore alerting all of our captive listeners of the fact that she could grab me another beer when she went into pee. We had a lovely chuckle after someone so kindly pointed out the little green light on the soundboard indicating mic power. Whoops.

Anyway, I'm a bit tired this evening and feel like there isn't much to post about other goings on since I last posted. Which is a bit sad. But i've settled into a routine and well, routines are boring and don't offer much in ways of fun interesting blog stories to read. So yeah. There ya go. I did do a little write up of our beach activity this evening though and hopefully it reads much better than my last piece of shit. Enjoy the three day weekend you Americans you. and thank Dr. MLK Jr.

Swimming at Dusk:

The moon alight with excitement for the night. It’s turn now that the brilliant sun has retired behind the waves. Waves, so many waves. Crashing and rolling over one another eager to greet the sand like an old friend before seeping back into nothingness in all manner of anticlimax. With the sun gone, the ocean looked cold and frothing. The wind was calm, the beach grass and reeds rustling readying for bed. The warmth from the recent day still clung to nooks and crannies slowly ebbing away reluctantly in the gentle breeze. And the moon, beaming. The clouds had been kept at bay all afternoon and it looked as though the moon would have full reign over this evening. Her excitement was palpable.

Nervously, we all stood around. We had missed the actual sunset and now our walk culminated in standing in the way most new friends do in medium sized groups. The semi circle. Atop the dune watching the afterglow off on the horizon and the layer upon layer of surf crashing with a subdued energy that seemed to belie the subsurface masses awakening for the evening. This ocean was alive, none of that unending flatness, that serenity and infinity of the doldrums of the oppressively hot afternoon. No glaring reflections, only soft light, reds violets and burned oranges. Mixing together like spilled paint, the ocean churning them together into the most fantastic mess. Looking at each other nervously, it seemed to perfect a scene to be lost in formalities, formalities that are so particular and so stubbornly held onto when in new and foreign environments. This was not the time for them. And so, with two swoops of denim and flash of green fleece I was sprinting my heart leaping toward the ocean froth. Aware of the four women still on the bank, most likely watching my bare back and exposed thighs bounding away across the sand, I focused on the waves.

The cool evening air lent the ocean the warmth it needed to keep us in the water. Pleasant, blending together in a way that made it difficult to tell which was cooler than the other. Sometimes the ocean was warming the air and sometimes the air was warming the water. I couldn’t keep it back for long, I swam back from the surf to ankle deep water and took off down the beach. I could care less about the people I had left back on the dunes. I was running, at the edge of land and sea, night and day, sanity and insanity. Flirting with such metaphorical and potentially physical disaster if I didn’t keep a close eye on my footfall and the stones being stolen away from the beach by the strong undertow.

When my breath grew too short and my chest heaved too much I turned and ran back skipping through the water back to the spot in front of the group. The floodgates had broken and three others had shed their clothes and come rushing to join the tumbling joy of the waves. Standing waist deep in swirling colors and watching the clouds slowly burn with a deep red I splashed water back at the surf. Smiling at all that infinitude so nicely encapsulated. It was an ironic smile.

Before the scene grew tedious, I climbed the sandy dunes and wrapped my sand colored grocery store towel around my waist, slipped into my sandals and opened another beer. Walking back dripping along the gravel road, under that moon, we hadn’t any need for words. We just squished and squeaked our way slowly back home, under the shy stars that had only dared to join the brilliant Lune.