Gisborne = Roseburg.

For those of you reading from Oregon, and in particular Ashland, you know what I’m talking about. For those of you who don’t know about Roseburg, let me explain.

My time in Auckland was drawing to a close — I had managed to use an internet connection from McDonald’s so was able to get online for free — but who wants to work from McDonald’s? I had an itch to go and play in the ocean, so when Friday came I departed. Nigel and Tina went to Taupo and dropped me off at the bus station at 7:00 a.m. or some similarly ungodly time. Problem was (and I didn’t make this apparent) — I was up until 3 a.m. working. I also had a New Zealand dial-up account, so I was able to sort of get online if there is a telephone around. Dial-up was frustrating, though. There is a reason I haven’t used dial-up for a very long time.

Tina made me a wonderful breakfast, lunch, and dinner care package. It contained mainly excellent food — reminding me of the “care packages” one side of my family promised when I went to uni but in return I was taken off the answering machine 3 days after leaving (“the tape crashed”) and my room was totally redone within two months.

In any case, I ate a great deal of the most amazing smoked trout I had ever had. The flavour delighted my taste buds. I ate almost the entire section of fish, which would turn out to be a very, very bad thing. Little did I know, the last 2 hours of this bus ride would be on the most winding roads I had ever been on. And I mean very winding. The driver made sure everyone had a “tidy” bag available in case of motion sickness. I almost needed one; in fact, I was teetering on the edge of being sick. Beautiful image I know, but I’ll make my point:

lotsafish + reallywindingroad = (bad idea)^2

Nevertheless, I completed the journey without incident. I arrived without a place to stay or any real knowledge of the options beyond hearing that “there is a backpackers nearby.” I started talking to a woman from Germany and she jumped in a van to the hostel. My stubborn self kept walking, but they pulled over and made me get in. Oh, and it was raining (note foreshadowing). I arrived at the Flying Nun and was ushered into a four-bed room. I always try to be conscious of being alone with women, since I know the situation can make people uncomfortable, so I made sure to leave the door open and try to get to know her (but more importantly for her to get to know me). I felt poor but found an internet cafe (couldn’t find any wireless) and got a little work done. I returned and went to sleep.

I said goodbye to Christine (she left a charming postcard on my bunk saying if I was ever in Europe I would have to visit) and wandered around a little. Gisborne will soon become synonymous with wandering.

I got a little work done, and then started playing cards with a group of people. Two women from Wales, an Australian, a Frenchman, and another American from Humboldt. Played a few card games, including BS, which I did rather well at. One of the Welsh women looked over and simply said “A future politician!” I sort of took it as a compliment, although I never bluffed during the entire game! (Winning is all about counting and cheating).

One funny part came when I was teaching one of the women how to win and showed her a trick. Most people actually try to bluff in the game, but I can’t really lie, so I just cheat; that is, I put down say two sixes and one other card (a card that I won’t need for quite a few rounds) and say “two sixes”. If somebody BS’es, they take the cards. Well, she put down four sixes on the first round and sort of threw them down there, and had tried to sneak a 5th card in. You don’t do this trick if you are first, because everyone can count the cards. Predictably, somebody challenged her, but it backfired. I laughed very hard.

The next day, I went surfing and had a wonderful time. It was not an ideal day to learn, but I’ll go again I’m sure! The waves were pretty big and the ocean choppy — not to mention I was nearly caught in a rip out at Wainui and almost floated away. And I wouldn’t have made it to Taiwan (inside joke).

I also went out one evening, although I no longer remember which one. Another German girl, Carolina (who criticised Message in a Bottle because it was not gory…) got turned away since she didn’t have an ID (from one of the bars). I knew the bartender at the other bar.

And that reminds me — I met another American, Mike, who had been living there for quite some time. Mike was cool, but the person I initially met, Nick, was wonderful. He is from Scotland, but I could understand him, at least until he said “how’s your form” and I said “what?” and he said “how’s your form” but I thought he said “how’s your farm” so I said “my farm is umm, doing just fine” and he started laughing. “Not farm, form”. He said farm. He told some great stories and was one of the most genuine people I had met in the last few months — plus he and his partner were both lovely.

As a segue, somehow, just trust me, I ate a lot of Indian food while in Gisborne. I think they were surprised when I asked for a fork and spoon. I had several good conversations with the Indian staff, including a discussion of prostitution in Singapore, which as I mentioned in an earlier post, I had learned a few things about.

Another interesting instance occurred when I needed to have a conference call with the US, at 9 p.m. PST. That is, 5 a.m. in Gisborne. And Kelvin doesn’t have an alarm clock. After trying to find one in two supermarkets and two petrol stations the woman at Pak’nSave reminded me I could just use my cell phone. Great idea! Its battery was flat so I started charging it and with a fizzle, it died. In a temporary lapse of common sense, I plugged a 120-volt charger into a 240-volt outlet. Bad Kelvin; still no charged phone. It was still functional, but had so little power that I could not rely on it. The only other options were a) iPod or b) laptop. I set the alarm in my iPod and all it would reproduce is a small vrrrrzzing for about 4 seconds. I turned on my laptop, learned a little Perl I had meant to learn, and wrote a quick and dirty alarm-clock program.

Towards the end of the week in Gisborne, I realised I would probably leave. I loved the surfing atmosphere, but I also missed city life. Auckland offered family, proximity to an airport, and more housing options; Gisborne had almost no housing available. Raglan, where many surfing championships were held, was also within reach of Auckland. The deciding factor was internet access, which was scarce. Apparently, one person had installed much of the DSL along that section of the east coast. Job opportunity? Maybe. Frustrating? Definitely. Philip, who worked at the internet cafe, and I became good friends. He was another wonderful person I met in Gisborne, and I always looked forward to seeing him. Although I did not learn his name until near the end of my trip, we discussed topics ranging from technology to cross-cultural relationships. He was Chinese-Canadian and married to a woman from Japan, so he offered perspectives I found especially interesting. On my last night in town, he stayed after the cafe closed so we could continue talking about life.

The next morning, I woke and walked to the bus — in the rain. I got on the bus and went back to Auckland. While Gisborne holds many good memories, Auckland will be a lot “easier”.