At the end of my loop-de-loop Nelson region tour, I finally got up to Takaka, on the Golden Coast. It reminds me of my college town, Ithaca, NY. Take the only road in, chug up a ginormous hill, et voila, isolated hippyland. The backpackers there was my favorite so far. Everyone was super friendly (and/or high), there was a "spa pool" (kiwi for hot tub) in the backyard, and there was a lifesize game of Jenga (with bricks) played every night until the wee hours. Even the toilet grew flowers.
The first morning, I waited out the rain in Cafe Wholemeal (Takaka's Moosewood) looking at glossy art magazines and lefty books. The sky cleared and I put down the photo essay about East Timor to take a bike ride. The bike ride, while being lovely because it was a bike ride, was also depressing, due to a detour visit to a milk factory. The sign was innocuous:
I put my $2 in the honesty bucket, conveniently placed on the way in, before you realize the tour is just you standing on a platform looking at how fucked up the human race is.
I've been vegetarian, vegan, omnivore, locavore, raw foodist, you name it. I've heard the arguments, I've argued them, and yet, it's so easy to forget, especially when you're not confronted with physical evidence. I know debating about food politics is not everyone's cup of fair-trade tea. All I'll include here is the info posted on the walls of the milk factory.
Of course for a cow to lactate she has to have mated 9 months prior. So "90% of the national herd are mating at the same time each spring." Odd. And then:
I thought about being the cow.
Squint - there were a lot all huddled back there:
So there was that. A heavy pitstop along the way to Pupu Springs (that's right, Pupu Springs in Takaka). Pupu Springs is the town's main attraction, and boasts the clearest water in Australasia (saying something is the "x'est in Australasia" is New Zealand's way of taking it to the next level). It's all sacred and peaceful and yet kind of underwhelming. When I figure out how to upload video (and unclog all of the pictures I took after the video that are, for now, stuck on my camera) you will see why. In the meantime, I present you with an example of how integrated the Maori language and culture are here (relative to native culture in most other places that white people have destroyed):
Here, wanna test your 20/20 vision?
The next morning I went on a goodbye-Takaka bike ride. It was like field, mountain, blue sky, field, field, fluffy cloud, sheep, mountain, palm tree, field -- wait, wha? A palm tree on a farm? Awesome.
I wish I could've stayed in Takaka forever, but I had to go back to Nelson to eat that amazing chocolate from Zatori (turns out their secret is an obscenely high proportion of cocoa butter) and lay on the beach in the sunshine watching the attractive kitesurfers. What a bugger. And that's where I found myself at a fancy backpackers, going out to a fancy dinner, and drunkenly blogging about saving women's self-esteem, the night before I crossed back to this here North Island and, therein, this here lil organic blueberry farm.
Holy shit, I'm finally caught up -- great timing, as back here in RealTimeLand, I'm about to go on vacation again. Leah - the woman from NYC who is here to run the blueberry cafe for the summer - has arrived and is as fabulous as promised. She's got a great big smile, but knows how to swear. She's that 5 foot tall yoga chick who could kick your ass and fix any farm equipment. I'm so excited to be her friend. Tomorrow we're taking a Christmas Eve trip to a nearby beach to bring in the holidaze OppositeLand style. To all of you who are going to malls and battling with the edges on your wrapping paper jobs, I send my regards.
P.S. Flixxx
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