Smoko can't last forever, you know...

Well, here it is - my final post in this blog. The coffee cup is almost empty, the gingernuts almost gone and the chit-chat exhausted. It is time to get back to work, as the boss says. Well, almost. I still have 6 days to go, but you get the drift.

For this final instalment, I thought I would share some observations of the last 3 months off. It has been the longest break from my career that I have ever taken, and was sorely needed. But was it worth it? More on that later.

So, my thoughts on our time in North America.... Carmen was intrigued by the things I noticed that she didn't, since they were "normal" for her (being from there). In no particular order then:

1. Toilets. Seems you offend people if you call a spade a spade in the US. Or a toilet a toilet. You have to call it a "restroom" or "bathroom" (despite it not containing a bath or a place to rest).
And, whatever you do, do not use colloquial antipodean phrases like: "Excuse me mate. Where's the dunny?" or even English phrases like "Where's the loo?" Especially when asking someone who has English as their second language, with Spanish being their mother tongue. Because all you will get is a puzzled look and a polite smile. No help at all, really, when your bladder is like a basketball.... If you know the old UK TV show "Fawlty Towers" with John Cleese, just think of Manuel...."Que?"

Then there is the size of the toilet pan. For a country where everything, including the inhabitants, are super-sized (see food, below), why is it that they have the shallowest & lowest toilet bowls in the world?? Seriously. I am warrior-sized, and sometimes have to sit with my feet dangling on some Kiwi toilets, but in the US it was the other way - my knees higher than my hips! Carmen said "its better for your movements to have the knees higher...", but I digress.
If I wasn't careful in my wadding procedure, one end of my toilet paper would drop into the "water" only a few inches below my bum, and subsequently I would get a wet feeling when conducting my wiping procedure.....
Then there was the weak flush. Honestly, sometimes I thought I would get wet feet when the bowl would fill up and up and up, whilst the water barely swirled, with all the product rising to the top and spreading round......good visual eh?.......and finally be sucked down the S-bend at the last minute! At least in NZ the loos have the same power as a hydroelectric dam and you don't see the product of your endeavours quite so closely...........
Right, now you have that mental image, onto the next observation:

2. Food. Glorious food. Man, it is everywhere, and covers the full spectrum from fast, faster, fastest food, to posh restaurants. And most of them you don't even have to leave the luxury of your vehicle to order it! And the portion sizes.....bloody huge! Out of all the meals Carmen and I had, there were only two that we had a serving each (which we regretted later) - all the rest we split between us. This had the added bonus of being cheaper too! Good for people of Scottish descent like me :-)
One fast food chain in particular to me, was the epitome of American largesse - Fatburger. Yes, you read correctly. Fatburger. Although intrigued, I couldn't quite bring myself to go in to one of these joints, just in case I was faced with the question of "do you want normal or low-fat lard on your fat-burger, sir?"
Then there was the chain called In and Out burgers. Despite Carmen assuring me it was a family owned chain that made fresh burgers, I couldn't help wondering if the name reflected the effect on ones digestive system and the time the meal spent therein.(especially in Southern California where you can get Chillies with everything if you want) Dab, dab. Not wipe, wipe....

3. Cars/trucks/fuel. Man, did we see some awesome vehicles over there. Big, really big, & too big. Then there was just bloody ridiculous. When the price of petrol is US$2.69 per gallon (roughly divide by 4 to get 67c per litre!), you can see why everyone seems to have a 3.6L V8 in their 4x4. And a loudener (not a muffler), so they sound like a bloody tank or John Deere tractor when they go past. And then there were the ones jacked up so high we could look under them without looking up! Remuera shopping trolleys have nothing on these beasts!
Having said all that, there were some really nice ones. There was even a pink Jeep for my son Jimmy (hehehe, sorry Son, couldn't resist). Just kidding. Even Carmen reluctantly admitted she liked some of the Jeeps we saw. Damnit!

4. The people. My overwhelming impression of Americans is that of a proud, patriotic, polite and generous people. Almost without exception, everyone we met were kind, welcoming, extremely polite and interested in us. Sure, their country has its faults, but every country does.
I have a similar impression of Canadians, although a much narrower sampling to draw conclusions from. They are just like Americans, but not as tanned :-).  I thoroughly enjoyed meeting everyone.
To all those who put us up and gave up their time to host us - a heart-felt thank you from both of us. Your generosity and friendship added immensely to the joy of our adventure. Cheers!

5. Was it worth it? That's the $72,000 question, eh?
The aim of taking three months off was to have a rest from a busy professional life, to regain work/life balance, and to think about the future. Both individually, and as a couple. Although we had some bumps along the way, overall the journey went smoothly. I for one did manage to forget about work for a while (although it took a while to "come down" off the speeding train), and just enjoy being me, & being us.
Unfortunately, now that I have one week to go, and with my next job still being negotiated, my "work head" is back on and it is hard to remember the feeling of being rested and rejuvenated that I had only a month ago. Bugger.
So, YES, it was worth it. When you are on your death-bed, it is too late to say "I wish I took some time out for myself". Having a life-changing (and saving) experience two and a half years ago changed my perspective on life. I had a new-found appreciation of life and my own mortality, and decided to do things I wouldn't have contemplated prior to my operation. Having someone to share it with was an absolute blessing. I have a saying: Life is for living; not regretting. Carmen says: If not now, then when? Both philosophies are the same, just in different terms.
On our journey, we saw things we want to see again, and missed out on places we definitely want to see on a subsequent visit. So, just like Arnie -"I'll be back".
I had so much fun being a long-haired hippy, that I might just decide to take it up as an occupation some day... (although, I am not sure a well-armed and well-trained hippy would be welcome in the land of fruits and nuts)

The mountains are calling, and I must go.

I hope you have enjoyed reading this blog as much as I have enjoyed sharing it.

Cheers,
James

Back to the land of the long grey, wet clouds...

As Carmen has already blogged about our flight home, I won't rehash it here. It was both good, and sad, to be home after two months away.
We got home on a wet, cold Friday night, and took a Super-Shuttle home. It absolutely poured down that weekend, finding a leak in our roof and making its way down the inside of our bedroom window. Welcome home :-(
I was onto the landlord quick-smart, although the repair process wasn't quite so quick. We did eventually get it fixed, though.
The following week was spent unpacking bags, sorting laundry etc, as Carmen has mentioned. (although, she didn't mention it took her more than a week to unpack her luggage....)
The following Friday we drove up to Taupo to attend the annual Sika Show (a hunting industry expo). I was working the HUNTS booth again, trying to sell a brand instead of a product, which is never as easy. It rained there too......gumboots were the dress of the day.
As the School Holidays started the same weekend, I drove to Roto-vegas to pick up Sam. The weather the following week was average, but we managed to take the quad over to the Wairarapa for some 4x4 therapy.

Sam all tooled-up for a ride..

Old habits die hard, even when out without a rifle. We heard a goat bleating while having lunch, so were trying to locate it here.

At the end of the week, we got on the ferry and headed to Christchurch.
Christmas came early for Son number 1 (Sam had already received his gifts), so all was well in the land of gear-head family.
That Saturday, we went for a day-hunt together in the Canterbury foothills. No animals were sighted, but there was enough sign (tracks, droppings, old rubbings) to keep us interested. That wasn't the point really - it was just to reconnect as a family and enjoy the mountains together. Mission successs!
On the Sunday evening I headed home alone, stopping over-night to stay with a good mate and his wife. It was great to catch up with them. Thanks Nick!

On Monday I headed to the Hanmer Springs area for some transcendental meditation. Well, not really, but I did need some time by myself to begin sorting, reflecting, thinking about, making sense (whatever you want to call it), of the past two months. The weather forecast wasn't too flash, but I headed into the mountains alone - something I am very comfortable doing (and with the bonus of not having carnivores around unlike USA!). I should have taken a fishing rod, as the trout were jumping! One to remember for next time.

Lake-front property. My view from campsite.

Happiness is a simple camp. And coffee. Just starting to rain here.

View from head of lake, looking south. Morning, day two. The weather shit itself later on.

The mountains are calling, and I must go. Happy. Happy. Happy.

 
I took my rifle for a walk, but didn't see any animals worth shooting (plenty of Hares, but my .308 wouldn't leave much meat if I did shoot them). Once again, there were plenty of tracks etc to keep me interested (although still up quite high above the snowline, so not worth the risk). And not seeing a soul for two days helped with the peace and quiet.
As the weather packed in on day three, I pulled out early and headed back to Hanmer to dry out. On the way out that morning, I spied some fresh footprints on the road. Human ones. Running shoes. I knew they had to be from that morning, as it had rained all night and these were sharp and very distinct. I acted like a South African tracker and drove along with my head out the window following the tracks....then lo-and-behold, around the next corner I spied the owner of the tracks - a chap called Warren. I don't pick up hitch-hikers, but this was a fellow traveller who was bent over stuffing his toes back into his thread-bare running shoes......this will be interesting, I thought....
I offered him a lift, which he accepted, since he was heading to Hanmer (about 40kms away) and it would take him all day. Warren was very interesting to talk with. He had begun his journey from Motueka, and was heading to Lake Sumner, then returning by the St James cycleway, back to Blenheim then home. His pack for all this was the size of a large school bag, with a bottle of milk bungeed to the outside. As he was down to his last packet of macaroni, I gave him my remaining freeze-dried cuisine and instant noodles, which he greatly appreciated. We had a great chin-wag on the drive to Hanmer, then I dropped him off at the I-Site (tourist info centre) as requested. I then headed to one of the campgrounds for the night.
The drive back to Picton went smoothly. The weather even cooperated, enabling me to park by a beach just north of Kaikoura, to have my lunch.

My lunchtime view...

I managed to get on an earlier ferry sailing, so I arrived home safe and sound that evening.
The following days were spent cleaning, drying, repacking my kit ready for the next adventure!

Well, I am into my last week of smoko as I write this, so will post one more time to complete the blog.