Twists of life...

I just wonder… How everything can change from one moment to the next? How can a void, bigger than a black hole, just appear in your chest and you still keep on breathing? You simply keep on inhaling and exhaling because life has not yet finished for you; because that muscle, right in the middle of your chest, is still beating and pumping and pushing you to keep on going. But how can you possibly bear to live, to wake up every morning and go to bed every night, with such emptiness in your soul?

My mother died two weeks ago. Her heart stopped beating suddenly, out of the blue, and life simply abandoned her. It left her body lying on the floor and drifted to the air to become part of some other life, or simply evaporated or went up to heaven. I really don´t know where it went. I don´t even know if it went somewhere. But it´s not here anymore. She was so young.

This has been on my mind for some time. How fragile life is, how uncertain, how unpredictable, how capricious it can be. What one takes for granted, what´s certain or indubitable, can shatter from one second to the other – it might not even take a minute – and then, all that you know is true, all your reality, just crumbles down like a house of cards. You have no other choice other than to simply keep on breathing and moving, because it wasn´t your heart the one that stopped beating. The clock keeps on ticking on the wall, the cars keep on racing in the streets, but you still have to wake up every morning to a new day even if your whole being wishes to stay in bed. So then, numb with grief, languid and enervated, you just move…

So now I feel as if I´m in limbo. I´m in that state of shock that takes over after an accident, explosion or traumatic situation - I imagine - when your mind just tries to process what´s going on, where to run, where to find shelter. So now I´m just wondering… wondering why things happen, wondering what will happen next, what to do, what has become of her, what will become of me and my family. I´m just wondering. And wandering too. At the moment I can´t make any permanent decision, can´t look further than the tile I´m currently standing on. So I know that, at least in the meantime, everything will have to be at my own rhythm, taking one step at a time, not rushing anything or being held back by anyone, but simply at my own pace and in my own way. Because I know that this is a solitary path.

So now “Edna in New Zealand” is over. For the time being, I´m back in Argentina with my family and old friends. But my new friends are here with me as well, even if I left them back in another continent. All the people I love are here surrounding me and have been here all this time supporting me. Some call, others come by to visit, others write e-mails or leave messages on my answering machine; one has even flown all the way from New Zealand to accompany me in these hard times. So I haven´t felt lonely in these past two weeks and I´m extremely grateful for that.

I know my mother is not here anymore though it´s still hard to believe. I hadn´t seen her for eight months and now I won´t see her ever again. I miss her every day and she´s always on my mind. Her voice especially is there. A week ago I invited the people I love to my house because it was my birthday. Of course I didn´t want to celebrate. When I went to buy a cake for tea, they asked me if I wanted candles. I said no. And suddenly, from a corner of my mind, my mother´s voice galvanized: “Oh, Georgie, no seas boluda! It´s your birthday! Go and have fun with your friends and buy some candles!” I didn´t buy candles, but tried my best to keep her voice in my head.

I don´t know if God exists. I always believed in Human Beings and the power of will. I guess that now I wish God was real. Hopefully, he will greet my mother face to face up there somewhere between the clouds and just make her feel at home. Maybe she´ll have a better life now when dead than before when alive.

These are the twists of life, those milestones that determine your character, forge relationships, break others, and change you forever.

 
 
(Photos: Corine Pratt -07/06/51 - 5/08/10)

RAGLAN: a junction of passions

If New Zealand´s towns were guys, then Raglan would be the most good-looking surfer dude in the country! Locals and travelers just love Raglan. And no wonder! It may well be one of the best surf spots in the North Island and it´s even considered- by the Lonely Planet- one of the most charming towns of the whole of New Zealand. I can´t actually confirm this last fact, but for sure it´s a must do, a spot you cannot miss, if you visit this area of the World.

So Raglan it was where Vanessa and I went this past weekend for a writing retreat. We needed a peaceful and natural place to get inspired and work on the play we are currently writing so, after a couple of hours coasting alongside hills and farms, we finally arrived to this attractive little town nestled in the Raglan Harbour. We were immediately stirred by the art emanating from every home or business: handmade jewelry, dresses, bags and shoes; rustic cafés and houses that looked like UFOs; cozy backpackers with saunas, books and hammocks. Even in the most unexpected corner you´ll come across a creative gate or ingenious balcony.

But what impressed me the most of this artistic town was mainly the peace it conveys to whomever enters its domain. As soon as you step into Raglan you are overwhelmed by the silence, the nature and by the quietness of the locals. You feel as if time had stopped, as if you were floating underwater, in slow motion: cruising around town, gliding towards the beach, meandering along the roads…

Raglan is indeed the ideal place to escape from the noise, the rush and the agitated life of more crowded towns. However, after a while of laying back and relaxing my mind in the limbo, I suddenly feel the urge to move about, to activate myself and get stimulation in one way or another. In Raglan I felt just like when you go to a concert with great music and, instead of dancing, you just sit and enjoy, motionless on a chair. I can do that for a while, but sooner or later my legs will start bouncing, my head swaying with the rhythm, and my fingers tapping the table.

Because of this restlessness, I was curious to comprehend why many young travelers choose Raglan to settle. So when I ordered a Mocha in the busiest café in town, I decided to question the foreign waitress about this. Her name was Aneta and she had been living in Raglan for 7 months so far. Besides preparing delicious mochas, she also surfs, hikes and enjoys outdoor activities. She told me that, because Raglan offers all of these facilities, she had chosen to stay there all those months. Of course, in due time she made wonderful friends and is currently flatting with them. I met other young people in their early thirties, all keen on surf and relaxing life, all choosing Raglan because of the same reasons as Aneta.

It was in one of my strolls around town, that I came across the cozy and colorful flower shop named Lilypot. Right away I felt the impulse to check out the place. I still don´t know if I was attracted by the old bicycle with a basket full of flowers stationed on the sidewalk or the artistic violet sign over the entrance door. But, anyhow, I walked in and was kindly welcomed by this smiling lady that I will call Di. Di runs Lilypot, makes all the beautiful flower arrangements and initiated the whole business on her own. She decided to make something out of her passion for flowers, so with a bunch of 5 dollar arrangements, she knocked on every door in town and was immediately supported by the neighbors. Her business is now growing, blooming like a flower in spring, and even selling around the world! If you go to Raglan, you should visit this lovely little flower shop.

But it was after chatting with Di that it dawned to me: Raglan is a junction where passions meet, where passions converge and where art blossoms. This is why people settle in Raglan in spite of the quietness and stillness of the place. All that calmness that stroke me so hard is only superficial. In Raglan, people are constantly creating, inventing and crafting. In Raglan, people surf, people paint, people write. Passions are welcome, passions are developed, and passions are respected. Raglan is a junction of passions.

I do admire every person I met in Raglan. All of them adapted their lives to what makes them happy, to what fulfills them at the end of the day. One needs to be very brave to follow one´s heart no matter what´s at stake. And not everybody has the guts to do so. All these brave people are the ones that smile when they are about to go to bed and the ones beaming early in the morning.

Fortunately, there´s no need to go to Raglan to be able to smile… So gain, courage, my friend, and follow your passion, no matter where it leads you to!

TIME OF YOUR LIFE!

Rainy afternoon in Mt, Maunganui. Everybody you know is working, Bayfair sounds like a bad idea, walking down the beach even worse, so what to do when boredom strikes? “Dirty Dancing”. And I don´t mean polishing the floor with your belly or spinning around a pole like a fireman, but simply renting a DVD and watching the movie! “Dirty dancing”, a dance not dirty at all, by the way.

I´ve just finished the film and of course the last song is still beating in my head. Patrick Swayze´s muscular body is also pasted in my mind, but the song is what mostly captured my attention. “First dance… First love… The time of your life!”, catchy, profound and inspiring. It makes you want to stand up, shake your hips, jump in the air and do something with your life, doesn´t it? It makes me want to go to the gym too, but let´s just stick to the point.

Having the time of my life… I just wonder how much of reality is there in this statement. I used to feel I was having the time of my life when I was younger. I used to go on holidays, meet people, go dancing; I used to fall in love very easily and very deeply. Nothing disturbed my mind for long because “Daddy” would solve it or Mummy would stroke it away; anyhow, there was no grey cloud in my clear blue sky. Whereas as for now, I just happen to be doubting if that forever HAPPINESS everybody searches for, if that eternal HEAVEN everybody looks forward to, is indeed reachable and sustainable or just a quick moment one goes through in a blink of an eye.

Now, I´m not saying I´m not having a good time nowadays. If I wasn´t having a good time, I would definitely do something to change my situation. I´m just trying to say that as one grows old, so do worries and concerns. Wrinkles don´t just appear because of age. One slowly becomes more aware of how The Matrix functions. The green codes are seen everywhere. You no longer believe that Daddy can save you and you snap out of the certainty that Mummy´s strokes can heal you. You become more conscious of the power you have over yourself and your life. You cannot keep on believing in “La vie en rose” because you have already gone through the mirror and peeped on the other side! Now, isn´t this concerning and beautiful at the same time?

I do desire to maintain that happiness that every now and again I experience. But I just wonder if that is possible or just a phrase characteristic of the Modern Man´s speech: “Work hard and keep on trying that you will reach happiness!” Some people work their hands to the bone, others surf and feel the adrenaline all day long; some just travel around the world, unattached; others act, paint and write. But at the end of the day, after that dose of distraction and happiness, reality strikes like a tax collector, unmercifully and persistently. And don´t confuse my words: I´m saying REALITY and not TRAGEDY.


I´ve reread Siddhartha recently and rediscovered the wisdom flowing in it. He says at the end of his days: “I had to strive for property and experience nausea and the depths of despair in order to learn not to resist them, in order to learn to love the world, and no longer compare it with some kind of desired imaginary world, some imaginary vision of perfection, but to leave it as it is, to love it and to be glad to belong to it”. I do agree with his words: the peace of mind so beseeched can only be gained by ACCEPTING, accepting oneself, accepting the others, and finding a peaceful agreement in between. When Govinda asks Siddhartha: “Give me something to help me on my way, Siddhartha. What helps you to live and do right?”, Siddhartha answers: “Knowledge can be communicated, but not wisdom. IN EVERY TRUE, THE OPPOSITE IS EQUALLY TRUE” …


So, my friends, I guess we´re back in the beginning, just wondering if eternal happiness can be reached. Have you ever had the time of your life? Did you ever meet Patrick Swayze?

(Photos: First one: Tongariro Crossing. 2nd: Natural Rockslide in Gisborne 3rd: IDEM)

Conversations

This fluffy, friendly, fat cat followed me to the beach today. Yeah, he came all the way from what I reckon is his house to the seashore!



Now, I don´t know about you, but this is the first time in my life that I´ve ever seen these two together: that is a cat and the sea only six feet one from the other! So while I wrote, watched the sunset and admired some cute surfers, this little cat explored the dunes, took a leak and then covered the remaining, purred and chased some seagulls.


I also had a very entertaining conversation with this kitty. Sometimes, you must agree, chatting with felines is more amusing than conversing with other human beings. Once, at the beginning of my trip, I met this kiwi guy that worked at an Information Centre. Considering that he knows about places, activities and destinations, one would suppose he´s interesting, travelled, well read… But, leaving aside the fact that I could barely hear his voice when he spoke, his conversations were so dull, so boring I had to force myself to keep track of what he was talking about. I will always remember him as the “Snooze guy…”.


This other time I met an Argentine girl who comes from one of the snobbiest places in Buenos Aires. Goodness Gracious! She must have forgotten her manners back home, because I couldn´t keep record of how many times DICK, SHIT and FUCK were pronounced during our short talk. I met her at a fucking Backpacker in Gisborne and though fucking short and fucking brief was our encounter, to me it lasted fucking ages!


So going back to the friendly cat I met today, I must add that I really miss My adorable Cat Dona who I left with my parents in Argentina. I can talk to my family every day, I can see them through Skype or even write a hundred e-mails to them per week, but I can´t squash my cat through my notebook; I can´t stroke her or kiss her or play with her! And even though I keep myself amused when chatting to other kitty cats, my Dona can´t be replaced. There´s no cat in the world who could resemble her. Will she remember me when I go back home? Or will she stare at me with that superior look and just walk away?


Has this ever happen to you? Do you have pets you love with all your might and had to leave behind for a long period?


Write to me and tell me your story! I´ll feel less alone in this madness!

Mt. Maunganui: an ART Desert

It´s been already 6 months since I settled at the Mt Maunganui. A long time for a traveler like me whose plan is to stay in New Zealand for just a while. Many will disagree with what I´m about to say, others might happen to coincide, but the Mount is not particularly popular for the Art it has to offer; it´s more regarded as a cultural desert, a place where no green sprouts naturally from the ground, but has to be mindfully planted.

I had the fortune of running into my artistic friend Vanessa as soon as I arrived to the Mt. After three unsuccessful check outs of different flats, all discharged for not liking the flatmates to be, I finally went to take a look at this last house. With my hopes to the ground, I arrived to this moldy one storey house, leading to a noisy road, with the loan up to my chin and bushes growing wildly in the front. Discouraged by the facade, I was just about to turn round and leave, when this girl with short brown hair in her mid twenties greeted me with a broad smile. She was using crutches and had a plaster in one of her feet because she had tore her ligaments a couple of months ago. Now, did you ever have this feeling of connecting with somebody from the very beginning? Did you ever feel this comfort with another person as soon as you locked eyes with them?

Vanessa and I got along from the very start. I moved into the moldy house that same day, no matter the funguses on the carpets nor the noise and cold coming from outside. I quickly got to know Vanessa more and discovered that she loved writing, just like me, and had recently created the Mount Writer´s Circle, precisely for not having enough artistic events or groups to attend in the Mount. I was her first member, and Monday after Monday, more people joined us and nowadays the Mount Writer´s Circle is flourishing, blooming and glimmering as well.

We have moved out from the moldy house and left two lovely flatmates behind, but we are now residing in a more inspiring place, full of light and fresh air, just two blocks away from the beach. If the Mountain doesn´t come to Mahomet, then Mahomet will have to walk to the mountain himself, and that´s what Vanessa and I are doing at the Mount Maunganui in regards to Art. We are currently writing a theatre play, apart from continuing with the Mount Writer´s Circle. We´ve organized Readings and Word Games in a café nearby, which have been very successful and might be repeated in the near future. We are trying to attend every artistic event that miraculously is held in town, such as “Story telling”, or “Improvisation nights”, such as “Poetry jam” or “Open micks”.

In the meantime, we are meeting very interesting people, all concerned about the lack of Art offered in the suburbs. And just like us, they are all initiating their own groups and organizing their own events. No matter your age, no matter how you express it, ART is meant to be conveyed, and if there are no means available out there, well, then you´ll have to create them yourself. If we follow this path, hopefully, the Mount with soon stop being a desert in between oceans, and will be known as the colorful Mt. Maunganui, where music sweeps you off your feet, where pictures and paintings dazzle your eyes and where words and stories just caramel your ears and drift you to a magical world.

A matter of Faith!

“My God! Why can´t we just score?!”, was my continuous thought during the Argentina- Greece football match this June 22nd. And I bet that most of the fans gathered around me were sharing the same frustrating feeling. Most of them were wearing the Argentine t-shirt, singing and cheering, some swearing, others complaining; but most of them simply enjoying the football. You must know that if for most Argentines football is like religion, then the World cup is like a competitive pass to Heaven. Leaving aside mayor differences, there are indeed many points that Football and Religion share in common.

To begin with, most of the matches are played every Sunday, the same day mass is held in church. Many people, in fact, attend games without failure. They are present in every event, no matter the distance, the weather; no matter their health conditions or if they got skimpy wallets. Fans will be there faithfully cheering and supporting their team.

Faith is another point of agreement between football and Religion. Fervent followers actually believe that if they wear the same sweaty t-shirt they wore to the last winning game, if they take the same route to get to the stadium and if they sit at the same spot , then their team has actually more possibilities of triumph. People pray before a match; some lit candles or wear crosses to the event!

And this takes me to PASSION: sitting on pews or hopping on stands, only a great passion can bring so many people together. It´s the love for their team that makes them hug each other when the players score a goal; that makes them cheer all together uniting in one only voice.

There are martyrs that sacrifice themselves for the sake of the team; Demons with red cards and players that kick like Angels; miracles occur in the field and many sins are committed in one game, there are chants and anthems; and in Argentina we even have God in our team! (If not ask the English who shook hands with him once…).

It has been a wonderful experience to have watched the World Cup in a foreign country, cheering and toasting with strangers, calling the family back home to exchange opinions in the middle of the match; even waking up at 2 in the morning just to watch the game was felt with pleasure!

Have you got a hobby that keeps you awake until late ours in the evening? Do you feel so passionate about something? I´d love to hear your story! I´ll feel less alone in this madness!

New Beginning

I´ve been delaying the launch of my blog for the past six months already. My original idea before arriving to New Zealand was to share, maybe weekly, maybe every fortnight, my experiences in this country with stories and photographs, giving tips and making suggestions for other interested travelers. But of course I was never able to carry out my plan as I first intended to.



I flew from Buenos Aires to New Zealand with the idea of staying just for two months. Six months afterwards, I´m still here. I flew from Buenos Aires to New Zealand in the company of one of my best friends. Five months ago, we each followed our own paths. So how can I expect to develop a blog in such a fickle of a trip?


But better late than never, people say. During this time I´ve gained some perspective, gathered my stuff together and organized my suitcase… So from now onwards, no matter the weather, no matter the time, I´ll do my best to keep a record of my adventures, to seal my memories in a web page so that they are not blown with the Pacific wind and lost in the ocean.