in her adventures

a lil bit of this a lil bit of that

theladykelly — Wed, 15 Oct 2008 04:52:00 GMT

Part 1. El Salvador

Every place I have been I have already had a preconceived idea of what it will be like. I don´t know if everyone does this, but my brain chooses to roll this way. So my idea of El Salvador went something like, big guns, black sand, pumping right handers. Real El Salvador...
big guns: yes. many and very frequently.
black sand: yes. unfortunately sand also consists of undescribable plastic things, and unfortunately discribalbe syringes.
pumping right handers. yes. unfortunately they showed something only slightly resembling their awesome glory... and at this time I was accosted by a local at the infamous Punta Roca. Luckily I didn´t get my surf wear and board stolen and have to walk back in the nude, like many other gringo surfers have had to face.
So like any preconcieved ideas, the line drawing was coloured in by the crayon of experince, with a bit of fr-fr-free stylin round the outside...
Like Pattie and Luis, the most wonderful couple we stayed with... Pattie cooked the most awesome meals for no more than $2 per meal, and her beautiful smile never left her lovely face... reminded me of mumsie!
And ofcourse, we spent many a great hour swinging in hammocks, yarning with our newly aquired british buddies, as the unreleting rain poured down around us.

Part 2. Goodbye Jake

Too much rain, rubbish, and lack of waves pushed Jess and I to call for an advance on Nigaragua. The high hopes I had of scoring El Salvador were unfortuantely not going to be met on this particular trip, and sometimes the best thing you can do is just accept, and with a shrug of the shoulders, move on... At this point Jake decided he wanted to wait around, and we werent going to be waiting with him. Within 30 minutes we had another Australian keen as a bean to join two adventuring lassies... and so the next day, to the veiw of more onshore junk and the smattering of a new storm brewing, we departed... Adios amigo Jake, Hola amigo Tom!

Interlude: Honduras Corruption

No! Este es mi recipo. Este no es la quenta! Muthafucker!(I said that last bit in my head actually). My very precious $100 was not going to be flowing into the pockets of another one of these glassy eyed honduran police. They picked the wrong lady to mess with on this day. Maybe they radioed their buddies ahead but we proceeded to be stopped every 50 ks with all kinds of colourful excuses.
`My money collection´
`You have no cones´
or my absolute favourite
`Give me money´
Needless to say I am pretty extreme and after my first rip off I was on a mission and not one other dirty coked up honduran got their hands on my cash. Woo!

Part 3. Nicaragua

Hello Paradise,

How are you? It is very nice to have finally arrived and I would like to thank you for your hospitality. The early morning sessions you dish up are absolutely devine. You couldn´t reflect that sun off those off shore waves in a more spectacular way. They keep me smiling all untill the next day, and presumably the rest of my life as I look back on these memories. The people you have collected here at this time are of the most wonderful sort, and couldnt be better to drive through a rain storm... in the dark... in the middle of the bush... soaking wet... looking for home... and that other bottle of rum...

If I am not to return here after this week, the memories will be good to me.

Arohanui... Kelly.

detour

theladykelly — Wed, 1 Oct 2008 09:30:00 GMT

Bubbles ascend to the surface, escaping the deep blue which surrounds them. If they are anything like me, they feel dwarfed and foreign under this surface and they are keen to get back to where they know best...

Maybe this is why my favourite thing isn't the beautiful coral patterns that give life to those around it, and decorate the walls in a way the only nature can make seem so effortless. Or the array of fish that swim past, some showing off their colours in a proud fashion, others darting to and fro, hiding from my wide, salty eyelashed eyes. Nor is it the seahorse that to me, seems like the elegant royalty of the sea, poised and delicate in its beauty. And close but still not, the turtle that glides across the reef, rising every few minutes for some air. All these things are amazing...

but to me nothing compares to the absolute stillness of gliding weightlessly on my back, breathing out, and watching the bubbles rise to the surface, silently making their journey to the light...

I found myself experiencing these things in Utila, Honduras. Honduras you say? No waves you say? Well, what is becoming apparent in this trip, is that sometimes the universe decides for you and there is nothing you can do about it. Once we has Jakes bag bag in our mountain rested hands, we departed for the El Salvador border. Tikal was given the flick. Two weeks without waves was approaching and our surfing bodies were getting restless... little were we to know that El Salvador wouldn't let us in due to some missing paper work with Lola. The thing about being over the other side of the world, with my only asset in the world, is I can't chuck a major tanty and fly home... So some quick thinking and some Nutella sandwiches later, we tried our luck at the Honduras border one hour north. And what do you know, paper work was deemed OK and so our most major detour began.

It is now two weeks later and we have just received the required paper work from the states. Approaching 4 weeks without waves... on one hand I could choose to be stark raving mad, but I am learning that when you can't do what you want to do, you just do something else. So I got my under water divers certificate - woo! Read many a great book, finally got into a early morning stretch routine for my poor body, developed an unhealthy addiction for Nutella sandwiches... which grew from me being poor, and only stopped because I started feeling really weird and I decided no money was better that no mind. I also came close to loosing my mind on a Caribbean island aided by rum... it really is grand story, which only warrents telling over a nice hot chocolate. Anyway lets just say I am firmly back on the sobriety wagon.

Sometimes we travel roads that aren't exactly - or anywhere close to - where we want to be but thats ok... beacuse we live and learn and I am slowly discovering that I am that dwarfed foreign bubble... and sometimes i might not feel ike it, but im making my way to the light...

That which is true of life is accentuated in travel. - my mind ramblings at some point of dispair or beauty.. i cant remember.

Guatemala short stories

theladykelly — Thu, 25 Sep 2008 04:32:00 GMT

Antigua

Cobblestone streets paved our way to recovery. An overload of beautiful food replenished us hungry-for-vegie kids. Tofu stirfry, banana bread goodness, Jakes market breakfast cooking skills atop our leafy garden roof. Buena Vista Social Club beats infusing smiles on our dials. The coolest organic beanie 'made in Guatemala' being a much needed purchase and a bit of professional inspiration. The surrounding towering mountains lead us to climbing one... lava flows and all. Cracking hollow lava crust moves beneath our feet. Heat waves distort the magestic view.

Lanquin

Lessons learned, we depart Antigua with new maps in hand, healthy breakfast in belly, and on schedule. We navigate our way through Guatemala City, desert low lands, and misty mountain ranges. 8 hours later has us descending on one of the worst roads with one of the most stunning views in the world.
The days progress... dark underworld caves seeping secrets of that which has been forgotten. Pristine freshwater pools atop a limestone bridge, beneath which an ultimate force thunders. An approaching storm begins to get sucked down the valley. A strengthening breeze rains down light vegetation. A moment of golden beauty against dark purple brewing clouds.

A lesson

We drove two hours on one of the worst roads I have ever experienced. When we came to a unsigned fork in the road, I had to take a photo. Upon discovering my bag hanging out of the supposedly closed back, a bag was found to be missing... A bag containing Jakes passport and entire belongings. We had not only lost it in the middle of nowhere, but also where nobody spoke spanish. And so we drove two hours back to Lanquin. Unbelievablly the bag was found, but would not return for two days. And so we played in the moutains, awaiting the arrival of The Adventuring Bag.

a little thing called adventure

theladykelly — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 07:05:00 GMT

There comes a time when you take in breaths so deep, trying to lower the beating heart from your throat. There also comes a time when your position of safety in life had never tasted so sweet. This is travelling.

Part 1. Adios Barra, hello alien buildings

Departing from Barra was like leaving a relationship. I loved it and all the good times we shared but I knew it was time to move on. So as we tooted our goodbyes, and bumped our way out of the rain rivited dirt road onto the Mex 200, smiles settled onto our surfed out faces...

The checklist for the next few days ran something like... Eat some fantastic food, listen to some beats, see some alien buildings (Palenque), and get to the boarder. We would traverse this check list as fast as possible, but with the air of relaxed travellers just meandering about the land.

Arrival to San Cristobal (An 8 hour drive straight) was one clouded by intense hunger. Once we had haphazardly settled into our hotel, we made our way onto the streets, lonely planet held open in the fading light to find a restaurant - quick! After a walk back and forth over a few blocks looking for a particular restaurant, pace increasing with the hunger pains (which gave our relaxed traveller meander a rather ´intense´ vibe), we decided to just rock into the very unmexican lebanese joint... Oh the joy of falafel wraps after countless weeks of Tlayudas. That glorious meal paired with a glass of vino tinto and I was one happy lady.

After a broken sleep over a main street, we arose early to search out some answers. Short road to Palenque (5 hours) was rumored to be dangerous, robberies and hold ups ´common´. After we asked a few people and only got laughs in answer, we deemed said road to be do-able. I can tell you that our experience on that road was in no way dangerous in terms of banditos, but after the thousanth tope that marked that road, sent my head toward the roof for a thousanth time, I was ready to kill someone myself. Luckily, our arrrival in Palenque was so incredible that I forgot all about those topes (well at least untill the return).

In a beautiful jungle setting we chucked our stuff into a room at El Janguar and searched for some food. As we sat at a restaurant at 4 in the afternoon, a lightening storm raged around us, and we found much delight in observing tourists navigate their way over a swollen creek. An afternoon meal soon turned into an evening of live music. Making our way home a few hours later than anticipated, a feeling of excitement at finally seeing Palenque swirled round my body with the red wine.

Palenque is meant to be the most beautiful Mayan ruins of mexico and I wasn´t dissappointed. We were first in at least an hour before the tour groups (one of the great reasons for having a car) and I clambered and marvelled over these century old buildings, all alone like an old explorer. Maybe more incredible than the ruins was the jungle that surrounded it. Backing the ruins was a huge moutain wall that enloped it from the sides. But peering through the vines from the front of the city, land spread out before it hundreds of meters below... As I walked around, rather over whelmed, it was an incredible feeling to think that not even thousands of years ago could they have done what I was in their own city. Not even the kings and queens could have marvelled at their thorougly impressive sorrounds in only their own presence.

Part 2. San Cristobal loves us, we love it back

Once we had made our way through the jungle ruins, had sweated much too much (or emitted `love scent´as jake likes to call it), we decided to depart back to San Cristobal. After a return trip that I would rather not dwell on, we arrived in San Cristobal much in similar fashion to our previous arrival. Freashly showered and with the calm of a Palenque visit still alive in the air around our heads, we set out for a much loved indian restaurant. Oh my goodness some of the best food I have ever had. When the food here is good it is really good. And the bad food is really bad. So with an amazing Indian curry in our bellies we set out into the early evening light. After strolling for a while we stubbled across a live music joint, and for the next few hours, were dazzled by a local band. A group comprising of flute, viola, bongo drums, bass, and a guitarist with an erriey voice, danced their obscure way through some amazing tunes whilst I sat back and enjoyed a fantastic hot chocolate. Went to sleep that night with a joyous feeling of exhaustion drawing me down down down...

The next day we wandered the streets, ate food, present needs were satisfied in the markets, and local yarns had. Once we settled in for dinner at a wine bar, smiles were already well plastered on our faces... and the great bottle(s) of red and great food did nothing but set them in stone for the rest of the evening. Looking for live music we found a bar without it... and proceeded to get to know all the locals in there, as the father, and his daughter (who owns the bar) were seated next to us. Unfortunately our blue sky minds were transformed into red wine minds and change of outfit number one* was in order after jess tipped a full glass of red in my lap. I followed suit soon after, and with a conversational flick of the hand, I sent a glass smashing to the floor - to the applause of a full bar. How embarrassing. The next few hours unfolded in great fashion and we ended up dancing into the wee hours of the morning with our new found friends somewhere in San Cristobal...

Part 3. Rocky Horror Picture Show

The next morning we decided it was a good idea to leave on a high and make out way to Guatemala. So filling ourselves with the most amazing bagels on the planet we made our way to Tapachula, the border town. After leaving San Cristobal on such a high we arrived to the biggest shit hole I have ever been in. Our need for a cheap place, and a starved hunger taking over our minds, we chucked our stuff into a feastery room and went in search of some food. Once I had pushed the food around my plate (delivered by a man with the undying need to cough into his hands every 5 seconds), I swollowed my ´on a budget´ pride and suggested we spend the $12 instead of $6 and get a better room. By better, I mean one that didnt have undescribeable stains soaking the walls, highlighted by the helogen lights flickering for lack of a window. Or a rotten plastic curtain separating the room from the mould infested scummy bathroom. With a collective sigh of relief at someone having put the crazy suggestion out there, we dragged our weary feet through the dirty streets... and high tailed it out of that room to the cackle of the fat ladies who couldnt move out of their seats and the seedy little man scratching his bare belly with his 20 year grown finger nails. Chainsaw Massacre mexican style anyone?

Awaking, we took our weary selves and made our way to the border. After driving for over an hour we were told we had to go back and then some to cancel my car permit, before crossing the boarder. This was whilst the angry stare of 4 guys on motor cycles followed us around trying to ´help´us. Their toots, revving engines and intimidating stares really did nothing for me, and on our return trip I was very eager to avoid them. Car permit cancelled and time ticking down, we were just returning through Tapachula when Muddy Jandal Jessie had the amazing mind revelation... In our haste to escape the room of horror, she has left her camera under the pillow at fester motel... A 45 min detour later, camera in hand, we were back on track for the border.

Unfortunately on our return, another biker grabbed our attention and proceeded to tell me I needed his help and it would cost so much. More unfortunately, the truth is my broken down mind did, and so I enlisted his help. We drove back and forth, paying this and paying that in the heat beating down on us. When we finally got to the Guatemala side, I was told my car papers werent right but for the right fee they could be... oh dear. So another detour and some more computer tapping later, we were back in line. Finally after the officals had stopped eating this, or chatting about that, they decided we were right to go and we set off, new Guatemala Car Permitt sticker gleeming in the afternoon light.

We had a 5 hour drive in front of us and about 6 hours of light. So when 5 hours into the drive we realised we had missed a major turn off, my heart began to rise into my throat. With the light dimming, and the drizzle hardening on our windscreen we pulled onto the side of the road and enlisted the help of the flashing lights of the Guatemala Police. Fortunately Jake didnt get taken into custody... unfortunately their smiles and broken spanish were looking rather thin when 20 mins later we were still no where where we wanted to be. With my heart solidly in my throat and darkness approaching at a rapid pace, I lurched between the feeling of throwing up and the absolute desire to break down in tears. A petrol station rose like a beacon out of the cloud covered dirt of the derelict buildings linging the highway. Armed with shakey new directions, we took a leap. And as we rose above the grey buildings stretching out as far as I could see, into the mountains, a little feeling called hope creeped in. No more than 20 minutes later and not 5 minutes before darkness, Antigua´s streets came upon us, and before we could register we were there, we were rumblings down it´s beautiful cobbled streets.

*For my need for Outift Change 2 you will need to ask Jess. That is her story and well worth hearing... but not mine to tell...

Oaxaca CIty - she goes inland!

theladykelly — Wed, 3 Sep 2008 08:47:00 GMT

I failed to mention in the previous post that we actually had a break from surfing for 4 days... here it is...

One must sometimes push out of a current state of being, to move on to new experinces, and ways of growth. Otherwise you may end up like the peanut butter that we brought from Cali... that festered in the sun for months... that I only managed to chucked out yesterday... mouldy.

And so with this in mind, and with Papa-never go inland never ever-mike, safely back in NZ, it was time to make tracks away from the great ocean. A 6 hour drive on the other side of the road in a foreign country is quite the daunting task. But with many a miles to drive ahead of us, it was the first major trip of many. So with our adventure hats firmly pulled over our heads, we commenced the journey to Oaxaca City (pronounced wa-ha-ka for those looking at that word with a mouth twisted frown upon their faces).

Oaxaca is a city known for its passion, and solid artist community. One of the greatest Mexican painters Rufino Tamayo, originated from there and we were at some stage in the future, unbeknown to us as we drove towards this thriving place, going to be feeling the beat of his life flow through our trip...

Driving the windy roads, we watched the lush tropical jungle that has drapped over every memory of my past 8 weeks, slightly abate, and give way to the cactus that strain to make their mark on the rain soaked summer coastal land. As Lola (as the Chariot of Barrels has been finally chistaned), wound gracefully into the high lands, we had many itellectual conversations... like debating the difference between a hill* and a mountian**. Jess, being from the flat dry biscuit (otherwise known as a cracker) country, thinks a mountain is anything taller than Lola. I, who has been chillin with my swiss buddies, believes a mountain is rather tall and would not look out of place with a smattering of snow. Jake, being a male, didn´t know what he thought and swung like a monkey between moutain/hill branches.

Arriving in Oaxaca, we found ourselves at an adequate abode, a tad tired, and none the wiser of topics like hills and mountains. When I say adequate, I mean it had a bed. Key word there being a... for three... but on the bright side it was big enough that we could each spoon 1 ft apart no worries... sweet as. With places established (I got the choice of a side as I was driver. Woo!), we ventured out into the late sunday afternoon embracing the city centre. The centre, where we spent the majority of our time, has stone cobbled roads where no cars are allowed. Lining these roads are an array of eateries, art galleries, museums, weavers offerning their wears, and nooks and crannies featuring something to delight.

That first evening it was swarming with locals enjoying the fresh evening breeze under the golden early evening light. In the zucalo (city square), people gathered in large groups, watching clowns perform whilst eating toffey apples. Grandfathers showed young grandchildren how to pop colourful air filled plastic streamers into the sky. People content to be on their own, read under the light sporadically filtering through the great trees. Going to sleep that first night, the colours of the city danced through my mind. New smells, sights, and sounds awakened the exciting fresh feeling of something new...

For the next few days we wandering the streets. Art, conversations with locals, mexicans and travellers alike, new food(!) and random slights kept us occupied. On the list of things to do was visit our first set of ruins. So waking one morning, we made the adventureos drive up onto the mountain top rising above one of the three valleys that the city sits in.

Monte Albán was built by the Zapotecs and gosh did they know where to build. The ruins are situated on the top of a mountain with incredible 360 degree views. It is truely mind blowing to think about how they built those structures way back when... pretty much, in my awesome opinion, it is impossible to be done without aliens being a very prominent part of the process. I will also state now that this is my veiw for the egyptian pyrimids and other such things around the world. (oh little tid bit I learnt from my mexican friend. There is a pyrimid built by the mayans near mexico city that is the exact same dimensions as one of the great pyrimids of egypt. oooooo spoooky).

So yeah, the alien structures must have had some kind of weird influnece on me, because come the afternoon I made my first purchase of the trip... a wonderful piece of local art. It is at least 20 years old and is made by a very time consuming local process of cutting out tiny pieces of paper and then printing the remainder onto a larger piece. It is absolutely wonderful and I am very glad I have it to remind me of the time that I have spent in this wonderous country. Also, without getting too crazy on the meger budget, I had to purchase a local specialty - Oaxaca Chocolate. Gold. So anyone that loves a good hot chocolate must come over for a cup once I get back to little ol Raglan.

That evening we were having a beer with the owner of the gallery where I brought my piece. He liked us so much that he invited us along to the opening at the museum of Rufino Tamayo. So it was with a huge smile on our faces that we drunk wine and listened to the speeches of his daughter, his podégé, and the local major. It is incredible when you can´t understand what people are saying that you hear so much more, the feeling that they are conveying. And so we smiled, shook hands, and ´mucho gusta´ed with all the local artists that were friends of our new friend. As we left, the grooviest old dude you have ever seen (wearing a purple painters shirt over a red check shirt and these awesome black pants), smiled the greatest smile and as he shook my hand goodbye told me I was ´muy muy bonita´, with some of the greatest sencerity I have ever heard. Gee whizz, them old mexican fellows know how to make a girl feel special.

Following, we drunk local wine and mescal (how I sippped that shit looking back I don´t know, but it tastes like rocket fuel). We ate the best food I have had in mexico since we arrived at one of his friends restaurants, and yarned our way through the night. An eclectic mix of spanish and english twirled together in the soft evening light at our lone table in the middle of an empty restaurant well into the night...

Arriving back in Barra, it was quite surreal. It was like we had been transported into a different world for a few days. A world of absolute inspiration for the heart and mind, experienced through the passion that the people of Oaxaca emitt in their smiles, art and millions of other ways. And so as I am about to leave my home of Barra tomorrow, and I write this collection of words, about a collection of memories swirling in my mind, any feeling of sadness or apprehension is being replaced by one of pure love and antisipation.

I leave now to have my last surf in Mexico, reflect on all the amazing moments I have experienced here, and all the stories I have yet to create on my journey of life.

And that is what life is all about. The antisipation and the stories...

According to the word bible (www.dictionary.com)
*Hill:a natural elevation of the earth's surface, smaller than a mountain.
**Mountain: a natural elevation of the earth's surface rising more or less abruptly to a summit, and attaining an altitude greater than that of a hill, usually greater than 2000 ft. (610 m).

give get laugh cry love loss... balance

theladykelly — Tue, 2 Sep 2008 07:36:00 GMT

lifes balance: If one is to take off on the wave of the day, one must expect to have a wipeout of the day, after the section of the day has brought itself down.
- last days in barra

And so here we are. My time surfing in Mexico is about to come to an end, and my departure on to new adventures - first up Palenque, Mexico - shall commence. Below, you shall find a wandering collection of words, written off the top of my head, from the smile on my face, from the love in my heart, about the days that have filled my time since Papa deaparted. I don´t know for how long it will run and flow, as it is just going to go, but I do hope you enjoy...

Making no grand departure from the norm, I spent the first week without miguel, and with my new old friend Jessie, surfing... and once Jake arrived, we continued with what we know best... surfing. Now it is here that I learnt a valuable lesson.

After surfing for so long in my mind I thought I would pretty much be awesome by now... what really happened is every day I seemed to get worse. That flow that I feel from riding a wave... was now more like a sporadic dribble. Aside from one wave of glory experienced somewhere there in the middle, it was a sad state of affairs. So I began the steps of getting back on track to full time awesomeness (note that this ´awesomeness´ is a state of my mind and in no way reflects my actual surfing as observed by anyone else... which is all that really counts).

First came the love and attention paid to my previously neglected board. Every little crack I could find (including the 5cm gouge that had been taking on water the last 2 months more than an Australian takes on beer at Octoberfest), was delicately fixed with a gentle hand. Every bit of wax that had caked on the bottom was scrapped off. A fresh, beautiful bumped wax job, was applied to my gleaming white (with parts tinged yellow) board.

Armed with this fresh piece of goodness I ascended onto the waves... With slight emprovement but not the kind I was hoping for, my second brain wave came upon me.

Next surf I switched fins and woowee it was like my board had been given a new life... But no instructions.

So then... I danced. I was sitting in the water, my brain pondering my predicament, when it occured to me that I had been moving my body in the exact same way for 2 months. It was not just sitting in front of a computer all day that could give your body this stiffness - but just too much of anything. Life is all about balance! So I danced my little heart out. When I got back to my Cabana that evening, all on my own, I put in my head phones, and with the concrete beneth my bare feet, danced the night away... But the transformation was not complete.

Again, sitting out in the water (you will notice a pattern appearing here), I had a shit head on. Thinking all the bad thoughts... anyways, it suddenly occured to me... I am free! I am not at a desk. I am in the land of tacos, chillin with my buddies and surfing as much as I want. And so I just sat and enjoyed the freedom of life. Within a minute I had scored the best wave in weeks and ever since I have been on the up... culmintating today with a well over head session.

As I waited and waited out the back for my turn at a good one, the last of the line dissappeared and as I watched the set approaching I knew it was going to be a good one. And as the grey wave grew darker as it rose under the light grey sky... I turned and went. All I got was a drop before the waves massive section unleashed itself upon me... and as I swirled around underwater, willing my leg rope not to snap, the damn thing undid. And so with the ocean rippin around me, I made the swim into shore... fun times. And whilst it might not seem like the ideal way to spend some time, I can tell you that that drop was one of the most fantastic things I have experienced all trip. It was only a few moments... but when you are living in the moment... you only need a few.

a wee summaree

theladykelly — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 06:35:00 GMT

Dad left a few days ago and with him left any major signs of swell. So with the few days off I made a wee calendar and tried to remember some of our adventures. I have been pretty slack with my personal writing, and so it was a good chance to catch up on anything I may have missed. So here are a few tid bits from the Adventures of Migual and Kelly - a mexican story.
*Please excuse any repeated mind ramblings that may occur.

Full moon rising over Aucklands night lights and harbour...
gives way to a midday hazy concrete jungle
·ALK-LAX

The edges must be blunt on the cookie cutter that makes their shopping centres.
·San Diego, California.

The overwhelming love and gratitude felt for the Greetis clan whom held our hands through the concrete maze.
·Carlsbad, California.

Awkward sick feeling that makes our tounges heavy. They weigh us down as we cross the border.
·Tijiuana, Baja Norte.

The sun set over our first day in Mexico. With it went any feelings of doubt that had plagued my heart. Soaking in - at a pace not unlike that of salt settling on a sunburned land, carried by a dying onshore wind - an unannounced sense of freedom.
·Baja Norte.

Heavy grey cloud coats the town, dulling every colour like an old faded movie. The chilled breeze blows past, draining with it, the colour from inside.
·Guerreo Negro, Baja Sur.

The ellusive first surf. The first dive washing away the dust and sweat containing all our insecuritites and worries. The cool, clear Baja water igniting the thirst for more, replacing the tired cobwebbed sense of adventure.
·Punta Abreojos, Baja Sur.

Yet another visual combination of any shade of brown dirt, species of cactus, and parched rock. Stretching out in reach, or rising up at varying degrees, to met an endless dusty blue sky.
·Baja, California

Blistered hands clench tightly around the steering wheel. Straining in concentration as another truck thounders blindingly past on the tooth pick Baja highway.
`Intense wheel pressure´.
·Dad. Baja, California.

The long forgotten seats and tabels of giants. Their crumbling greatness dwarfing. Their enormity humbling.
`We really don´t belong here´.
Dad as we drive through another towering desolite valley.
·Somewhere on the Baja.

Dust and stone beneath my feet. Sun, salt and sweat coat my skin. The flap of the tarpolein parades on my ears. Fresh fish soaked in lime dissolves in my mouth. Heat breathes in my nose. Scorpians and rattle snakes play in the shadows of my mind...
As I look down upon another empty wave, peeling along the base of our cliff top camp, there is no place I´d rather be.
·Scorpian Bay, Baja Sur.

Consumed after a long days drive, safe from the howling onshore wind. Fresh chopped vegies and a chilled cervaza shared with new found friends. New stories, new laughs... old ways of feeling new.
·Todos Santos, Baja Sur.

A look of relief floods across Dads frantic face as he spots me in a crowd. `I need more paper work. Don´t leave this spot!´
He needent have worried. Three hours later I was still sitting there, waiting for the ferry to board.
·La Paz, Baja Sur.

At 3am the stench of diesel is heavy in the hot underbelly of the ferry. A muggy mind wonders if Dad made it on with the car, or if I will be arriving in Mazatlan all alone...
·La Paz - Mazatlan ferry crossing.

One way roads the wrong way. Foreign words mingle with the splash of foreign puddles in a foreign land. Night lights brighten as the day dims with our mood.
·First night on the mainland. Tepic, Mexico.

Red light sporadically flash though the fat droplets clouding our vision. Impromptue waterfalls cascade down through the jungle heights, splattering onto the road. Unwelcome, but unabated rivers rush down the cobblestone streets. Saturated, sloppy footed tourists walk head down, inadequate umbrellas droop with the same resignation as their rolled shoulders.
·Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.

Crabs, with their sideways scuttle, looking thoroughly out of place on the black bituman, play chicken with the car.
·Highway 200, Mexico.

An untimely, awkward slap follows the seemingly impromptue and graceless flight of the stingray.
·Puerto Escondido, Mexico.

The pelicans (or Bombers as Dad refers to them), swoop with barely a flap of their great windspan. They move with the grace of the greatest water mammals. Whales of the air.
·Puerto Escondido, Mexico

Soft light dances over closed eyelids, to the silent sway of the hammock.
·Barra de la Cruz, Mexico.

White tufts of sea spray take sporadic flight in the offshore. Effortlessly engaged in an impromptue dance, they make the most of the freedom in the golden afternoon light. For they, at any time, could be plucked from the air, as quickly as they came...
·Barra de la Cruz, Mexico.

and this is what its all about

theladykelly — Tue, 12 Aug 2008 11:55:00 GMT

up and down and round and round... the cycles of the universe, the waves we ride, the tropical jungle infested roads we travel... to find... an amazing experience... or three.

It is truely amazing how this universe works sometimes. Only a few hours after writing the last entry, things took a change for the better. Mother nature gave me a much needed hug in the form of back hand tubes. A big storm had come through and the midday onshore had been replaced by a light off shore on otherwise pure glassy waves. All afternoon until the sun shone its last rays upon us, down across the vocanic rocks and through the offshore spray, we shared waves and hoots of stoke with our new friends. One of the coolest things was this big mushroom cloud just out to sea. It didnt move the entire time but it had this lightening storm going off inside it. Amazing thing to watch.

In the evening I got talking to two lovely people who were friends of friends of friends... one of whom was mexican. And she had the most amazing things to say about sustainable communities that she is involved with building, along with many other great tangents of conversation. It restored my faith in humanity as there are people everywhere that feel the same frustrations, that are working so hard to produce positive results and really change the mind set in day to day living.

That night as we went to sleep, the same cloud that was out to sea during our surf, was still going strong. And all night it was the most beautiful light show happening right outside my tent. This place is incredible.

Since, this change of tune we have just surfed and played at the beach. Read a great book called Papillon in record time, since it was Mike and Lauras and they departed, as quickly as they had arrived, onto their next adventure. It wasn´t without a hiccup, as Laura was labled a fairy killer when she squashed a firefly. Poor poor unsuspecting firefly... We also said goodbye to our buddies from malibu, venice and mexico city... departing back to life where responsibilities are beyond those that can be delt with from a hammock. Muddy Jandal Jess away with the fireflys, also arrived a few days ago. Combination of Dad who trips over everything with his poor eyes, and jess who steps in every puddle as her mind is off goodness knows where, I feel like I am at a picnic missing more than a few sandwhiches.

Today, with my two ´special´friends, we headed south. We had awoken to find Barra, although the biggest it has been for a while, also the widest and fattest. So with banana hotcakes firmly in belly, we made down the coast. Hopes weren´t high as we have made the trip a few times before and every time we had encountered an element of surfing working against our favour (Damn wind! Damn swell direction!). As we stood under a big white cross, errected on rocks jutting out into the supposed point of glory, morning heat beading sweat over my body, and hands swatting ineffectively as the local sandflies, I thought we would be humming a familiar tune...

As mud splashed up against the windows, as we passed cows and goats littering the road, as little old ladies watched us with blank gazes, I decided that I didn´t care about the surf, and the call to go further south than we had been so far was purely a high just for the adventure... but with 4wd kicked in and tropical jungle mud roads giving way to a big sandy headland, a little stirring of hope began. And through the glare of the mid morning sun reflecting of the white gray sand dune, we stumbled upon a beautiful right hander.

I don´t think in my life that I have surfed in water so incredibly beautiful. I admitt that as we paddled out, into our deserted point, the thought of sharks crossed my mind. I can´t decide if being able to see them coming really clearly makes it any easier... anyways luckily for us, the only windlife to join us were some wonderfully grande tortuga (big turtles). So we frollicked for several hours, as over head waves rolled through around the point, the beautiful torquoise and white against a headland of red rock and cacti...

These are the days... they always have been.

No tirar basura (dont chuck your shit on the ground)

theladykelly — Wed, 6 Aug 2008 04:56:00 GMT

Sleeping on an air mattress in a tent is a spectaular place to be in an earthquake for two reasons. The first one being that as you awake to your legs and arms flailing around in the early morning, it is actually kind of fun. Secondly, a dodgy mexican concrete roof cannot fall on you.

And so I lived through a 5.1 earthquake to tell the tale. The most amazing thing about it was the sound it made. I have never heard such an incredibly deep rumble. It was like it was resonating out from the earth and through every single bit of nature, down to the littlest blade of grass. Very humbling. Beatuiful mother nature, hear you roar.

An hour after this amazing experience, we were in the water... and following was one of the greatest surfs... perfect waves, great crowd, beautiful location.

The next day most of our buddies left. After staying one more day for the birthday of our swiss friend, we deaprted for Chacahua. About an hour north of Puerto, we left our car (taking a photo of it as we left incase it was the last time we saw it), and boarded a boat... crossing the lagoon was incredible! You have to go through this mangrove tunnel, with lots of birds flying around, fish jumping and all sorts of goodness. The sun was getting down to magic hour as we arrived, and Chacahua seemed like a very nice place to be on earth.

Unfortunately, the surf didn´t come to play, and with Dad only having a week and a half left (and his boardies stolen) we decided to head back to home (Barra) untill its time for him to go.

As we were leaving my swiss buddy asked me if I liked the village...

Now excuse me as I answer not from my mouth, but from my heart...

I haven´t mentioned it yet, as I like to keep things positive. But I think there is a difference between being positive and just plain ignorance. The rubbish here can be out of control. I have photos of literally rivers of junk (with a very high consistancy of plastic coke bottles), cascading down hill sides. C

hacuhua is a beautiful place, with beautiful people... and piles of rubbish everywhere. They have no kind of infrastructure to deal with the amount of plastics coming in, and every piece of rubbish that is not blown out to sea, or littering the beach, is collected into random piles and burnt.

Now I must say that Chacahua is seperate from the mexican government for some reason, but alot of mexico is like this. It makes my soul absolutely cry that governments around the world let this shit go on. There are so many levels to it that I don´t even know what or whom to be angry at.

Government? Corporations? Turning a blind eye Nations?

Mega companies (like Coca Cola) insist on producing packaging that is just so fucken stupid! Cheapest, easiest, irrelivant to the type of environment or community it is going to end up in. The Governement don´t regulate the crap that is entering their country, don´t educate the people to know any better, and don´t provide the infrastructure to deal with what does enter the communities.

It seriously tears at my heart to see this kind of thing again and again as I travel to some of the most beautiful places in the world. Where are the hearts of the people that make the money of all this crap they sell? Where is the mana (respect for oneself) of the goverments all around the world that can sit there say they are there to represent and protect the people? I have actually forgotten what a government is supposed to be for. I will go look it up another day.

...

Here is your name and a plastic gun
Do not worry
In a few years the iron bars in your mind
cause: lack of education
will melt with the acid of ignorance

this will provide you with enough ammunition
to join a war
blindfolded with a flag
you just shot your mother
yet you act so surprised

...

anyways thats mother earth not real mum - love you mumsie! And I was only that angry for a day. Because angry gets no one anywhere good.

And in the words of someone awesome

It is better to light a candle, than to curse the dark.

So I´m going to go write something about the love, and as I go through these lands, with these beautiful people, seeing such incredible things, I´ll be thinking about whats next...

Sending the love, try and keep out of earthquakes, be tidy kiwis...

Arohanui xxx

Barra de la Cruz

theladykelly — Wed, 30 Jul 2008 04:23:00 GMT

How do you say ¨fucken big shark¨ in spanish?
Today as I was sitting in the water, a large (but not mammouth to be fair) great white, took it upon itself to launch into the air not 15 meters from where I was sitting.
For the nay sayers that took it upon themselves to tell me that a) sharks don´t jump and b) it was just a fish... 1) you´re an idiot 2) yeah it was a fish. a big grey and white fish. dumb arse.
Lets make it clear that I find it hard to believe myself. If I hadn´t seen it with my own two (admittidly dodgy) eyes, I would pass the ¨see-er¨ off as a crack smoker. But I haven´t smoked crack since at least last week and I know what I saw.
So yeah, needless to say, I paddled my scared wee self into the beach... waveless... but with short legs no shorter than before the surf.

...

A fly on the palapa wall would perhaps see our days pass, without much of a difference from one day to the next. Perhaps this fly would see me, woken up by dad, come out of the tent rubbing the sleep from my eyes, pondering with a frown why I am up before the sun. It would see us load in whatever board from the quiver deemed appropriate for the days swell, along with at least 4 other peoples boards. And it would then see 3 people clamber into the front cab, with two people hanging off the back, the dimness of sleep disappearing from their eyes, as the thought of what waves awaited them today took over their thoughts.

It would then see us salty and sunned, return a few hours later. After reports of, how big, how clean, how crowded, have been passed around, and a quick rinse under the fresh water shower completed, this fly would then observe me settling into the muchos importante role of... lying in the hammock. Once in the hammock, many things can take place... The eating of breakfast (manzana yogurt with banana and almonds), reading of a novel or lonely planet, conversing with our new but wonderful buddies on all sorts of revitting conversation... or it could observe me simply... just... swinging...

Come the afternoon, after lunch has been consumed, an internet visit has occured, and the suns going-to-give-you-old-granny-skin rays have somewhat dimmed, the spider, tired after a day of dodging webs, would see the days stage 1 repeat. Boards loaded, off they go, smiles firmly planted...

We return as the sun has long since dipped over the ridge of the surrounding hills, and the last light is disppearsing into the dark night sky. Cold refreshing showers taken, insect repellant apllied vigorously, first cervza consumed with a starving thirst, the second consumed at the same pace of the meandering contemplation of the most important question of the day... Which restaurant should we eat at this evening? A laughing bunch of at least 4, and joined usually in quick succession by others, we desend upon the chosen eatery. After many laughs, a bit of spanish (improving slowly) with the locals, stories a plenty, a filling meal, and at least two pina coladas consumed (one for fun, one for desert), we make our way home... slightly heavy with food, slighty light with the days waves, sun and drinks...

As I am brushing my teeth, I observe a fly stuck in a web. Slight twitches, it is resigned to the fact that sooner rather than later, a big fucken spider is going to come eat it.

...

So there it is. Sharks, insects of all sorts - including two tranchulas we saw IN ONE NIGHT. At least it wasnt the Boa Constrictor that Zula the Swiss girl saw in the palapa down the beach. Having a great ol time in paradise and discovering that there are rather alot of other living things enjoying paradise with us.

So many good crew have been with us. It is sad to see them go! Mike and Laura left a few days ago. Our Hawaiian buddies just left a few minutes ago - luckily we will see them in 3 months when they come to Raglan. The ozzies are also off today, and the sole remaining kiwis, Ty, Dahlia, Cuzzie and Olive, will leave in a few days. Then it will be just father and I... and if the wildlife doesnt kill us first, then it will be survival of the fittest. May the best girl who is 22 called kelly win.

On a more serious note: In the past week, I got some of the most tragic news from home I could ever hear. Reminded just how precious this life is, we sat out in the water and sent our aroha all the way back to the west coast of Aotearoa. Though we may be in a beautiful place, doing the thing we love so much, we are reminded that family are everything. So to my whanau (comprising of those I was brought to by birth, and those I was brought to by life), I love you. Being my family, I will be there for you always, and I hope that no matter what, you can always feel that.

Go surfing, watch out for the noahs, love a little and then love some more...

Arohanui xxx

insects in paradise

theladykelly — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 08:21:00 GMT

Rio Nexpa: Kiwis cussies, $5 por noche - woo hoo! Brown water spewing from over flowing river mouth. Fat left handers. Heaving right handers. crazy crabs. new ozzies buddies. Fresh vegies for the vego kiwis. Alligator crusing past - at least i convinced myself there was. Dead dog in line up. time to go anyone?

Acupluco: Cliff divers. big city craziness. chuwawa on the menu - cheese not the dog. Screaming bikes. Late night disco right outside the window untill the dawning sky tells you what you already dreaded... its been a long night... time to go go go....

Puerto Escondido: Serious hammock time. Small swell = dbah esque waves. Great food. More great food. Random meeting with Matty Scorringe walking down the street, which lead to meeting up with mike phillips and his lovely lady laura. Our new adventure buddies! Flying sting rays in the water. Big huge swooping pelicans. After three days of more of the same, it is time to move south, away form the crowds and to the easy life of camping... to the major destination of the whole trip... Barra de la cruz aka the ripcurl contest wave.

That is the super condensed version of the last week or so before the last 4 days, as I wrote a long update in Puerto before the computer decided to crash and delete half an hour of quality writing. Ha ha! It was a great trip down here and every single moment up untill we left puerto, all expectations had been exceeded, apart from the surf. Don´t get me wrong. We had lot of fun waves, and it beats most days surfing in a thick wetsuit... but it wasn´t the waves we had been dreaming of from the other side of the world. But come four days later, that thirst is fast becoming quienched. This place is truley beautiful. I couldn´t believe our first surf as the sun was setting. The sand is the nicest white on this big long beach, these amazing white boulders, crawling with greenery, come out from the hill to meet the beautiful blue ocean. When you look back to land there is this amazing valley, covered in the wet seasons tropcial jungle, climbing higher and higher. In the morning, as you are out as the sun rises, there is this awesome mist that lays over the top of the highest peak, that makes me think of a giant that is laying down to rest... After a big night of doing whatever it is that giants do (apart from playing my imagination).

The second day, I got one of the funnest waves I have ever surfed in my life. You never really think about bringing out those calls, and I haven´t said anything like that for a long time, so it was about time to just put it out there and celebrate. After having a refeashing cold shower, uno cervaza, and a bit of a home cooked pasta, above my belly started having some pains... after lying down, it started going south and before i knew it poor wee me was sick. I spent the next 24 hours not in the best state of my life, but after much moaning and groaning, I woke this morning to feel slightly better. Unfortunatley my days of sickness have coincided with the biggest swell we have had, and the boys have been telling of barrells... but it should last at least another 4 days, so I am consoling myself with the fact that I will hopefully be all freash whilst everyone else is surfed out.

But before you let yourself get too down with the picture I paint of paradise, I´ll let you in on some things i have been omitting from my little story. The insects here suck. Down on the beach there are the most horrendis march flies and i now refuse to go in untill dads feet are on solid ground (otherwise i end up going mad as he said he would come in half and hour ago and i am running around trying to kill every one that lands on me), and they have these things called noseeums. the first day i thought I may have got a little bitten.... I woke up in the middle of the night after the bites had raised, and it is estimated by my fellow kiwi campers that i had in excess of two hundred bites on my body. Needless to say I spent the next two days trying desperately not to scratch all over my body...

But that is really all. Other than that, it is paradise for the moment. We have made friends with some lovely french crew, and we might go on an adventure with them tomorrow. There are meant to be some amazing breaks around here that are not so easy to get too.. and so far our adventures have found amazing beaches, friendly people that have a mighty old laugh at our spanish skills, and an exess amount of mud on our truck... Hopefully a prefect reeling point break is next on the list of discoveries.

And that is really all for now me amigos. Been a bit of a strain on the body... time to lie down again and hopefully be fully rested for tomorrow. I hope this finds you all well as usual and enjoying whatever slice of paradise you are inhabiting. If in the southern hemisphere - have a glass of red wine and dark chocolate for me please! And milledge, not sure if you read this, but i miss your pesto immensly. Safe travels... xxx

Baja... and the rest

theladykelly — Wed, 9 Jul 2008 10:44:00 GMT

just over a week later finds us on the mainland of mexico... and it feels like a life time later. Ill try and condense it as much as possibee, and please excuse my gramma but I dont know how to work the spanish keys!

0600 (at the beginning) we depart the Greetis clans home. Destination - Mexican border and beyond.
0602 First Police pull over. Tints are illegal. Top stuff.

The stories you hear, and hear about hearing, so on and so forth, are about as good for the nerves as cancun is for a recovering alcoholic, and so the quick hour or so drive to the border was more of a intense thought race of which horror story could freak me out faster. Needless to say that when the cats at the border told me I actually had to do some driving around in Tijuana, due to vehical permits and other such business, a little (big) part of me wanted to run home. But after much procrastination between father and I (Are you sure we need to go in there and follow these directions? Yes. Are you sure? Um I dunno Ill go ask again.... yep, we need to go in there. In there? Yeah... etc etc), we ventured forth.

I can tell you that mexicans are just lovely. From that moment at crossing the border to this moment thousands of ks away, the mexican people have been nothing but wonderful. Friendly, kind, and most of all accepting of my terrible spanish.

Now the actual country. Wow. The first three days were spent driving hundreds of ks with ¨intense wheel pressure¨ (Dad), as we decided to get as far south to the first perfect waves we could find. After endless cactus fields, the narrowest roads you have ever driven at 100k per hour with a big truck bearing down on you and another one over taking you, we took a turn. Our first stuck in the sand ¨ Abort Abort! ¨adventure, had us then take another turn. 3 of the most desolite, hot, barren, in the middle of nowhere havent seen a car for at least 2 of those, hours later we arrived at point set up number 1. It being only shoulder high and still wetsuit temp we had one good wave each and then high tailed it out of there... illusive first surf down. Quite the achievement let me tell you! Destionation Scorpian Bay (aka Perfect Point Setup 2 - 7).

A day later, we arrived to find shoulder high right handers peeling perfection. Out for one and then camp set up. In the hard off shore afternoon wind, this was to be an adventure. But after the thousands of ks driven and the days of no surf, a loud flapping of the tarpolen as we ate our 5 can mix and over looked the last days sets, seemed nothing less than paradise.

Here we spent 3 days of great fun. It was the most perfect twinny wave I have ever surfed. The people were lovely, it was uncrowded. The cliff we camped on overlooked the break and the surronding landscape - big barren hills, and miles of desert - was gorgeous, and three surfs a day, kept me sleeping on my very slim mattress that lay over the hard desert stone (with a light dusting of sand of course). But you can only surf so many twinny waves and dodge so many scorpians, before the mind starts wondering to better shaped waves and tropical jungle.

After making a few adventures south, meeting some wondeful kiwis (English! and a familiar accent!), we decided baja had shown us enough of her glory and it was time to make our way to mainland mexico. A 12 hour ferry trip 2am-2pm) and we found ourselves on the mainland with new australian friends. As a new family, we set out for the perfection of the south! little did we know we also drove ourselves into the tail of a mini hurricane. So after a night in the middle of a wonderful city that i had no hope of exploring (its a surf trip aye Dad) we continued into the craziness of a hurrincane on the mainland. Yesterday a drive of 10 hours through flooded towns, new waterfalls cascading down upon the highway and a few wrong turns, we arrived at the imfamous Pascalues. Pretty much a twin to Puerto Escondido, we awoke this morning to solid over head waves thumping onto the shore. We quickly decided that wonkey glorified close outs werent our thing (¨it has to be twice as big as this to start working ¨sweet bro you can have it). So we headed from where I type now, Rio Nexpa.

Along the way we tried to get into some lesser known places, but due to the storm that just came through (apparently the worst in 10 years), in alot of places, the roads were washed out. So after driving along the coast brim full of lush rain forest (the complete opposite to her sister Baja), through tunnels of greenery seemling trying its best to creep along the road, it was a beautiful feeling to arrive here. At $5 a night, with a great little heavy right hand bank right in front, many more stretching down the beach, and the left point out to the side, I couldnt be happier. Also staying right next to us, is a new found cousin. From the mothers side we connected the dots, and you know how us maoris are... best mates already.

Anyway its time for the much deserved cervaza. First surf on the mainland deserves a beer! Funnily enough, I find a reason to deserve a beer everyday.... I love you all very much and hopefully I can update this at least once a week as I dont like writing big long ones... May this reading find you happy and healthy and remember, you are always welcome to join xxx

California Departure

theladykelly — Sat, 28 Jun 2008 13:44:00 GMT

Each journey begins with just one step... (something along these lines anyway)... whomever first penned this to paper - Whether you were purely looking on the bright side of life, or you wrote it from the comfort of your living room rug in front of the fire, whilst sipping on red wine and dreaming of glorious adventures - you forgot to mention the following 563 steps required to actually start going anywhere.

A week in, to the day, we will be making our way across the border to begin the baja part of our mexican adventure. Looking back on the past week, it is mind blowing to see on one hand, how we got all of it together, but on the other, how it took so fucken long. Without the help of the wonderful Greetis Clan, I am holder of the belief that Dad and I would have strangled each other, the sole survivor on a plane home (though probably not in business class this time).

Luckily, with necks thoroughly intact, our wondnerful 98 Toyota Tacoma packed to the brim with everything from our surf boards, to 43 blocks of wax (me? exaggerate?), to spare tent pegs, to pancake mix (just add water), we will cross the border.

Of course there are all the feelings that come with the adventure running round inside. Bunch of little tiny men all wearing different coloured shirts... just running around. Too tired to tell them all to get into their specific feeling line... so for now I am a tangled mess, but kinda shaped like a smile. Because here we are. On the other side of the world. Being out of the box I so badly wanted to be out of. Ready to feel those experiences that overload the senses so strongly that all the little men running round disappear... perhaps just like the 563 steps that were required to get here... and you realise that here... is exactly where you want to be.

hello america

theladykelly — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 14:28:00 GMT

So here we are. Papa Mike and myself...

After saying goodbye to the beautiful people in Raglan, having one of my best surfs at Raglan ever (I love The Valley), and having one last drucken adventure out at the bay with many an old friend and a groovey skate ramp... we left (albeit slightly hungover) the magical land of Raglan.

Grins were planted frimly on our heads within the first 2 hours of deaparture from Raglan as we discovered Dads friends had hooked us up with a business class up grade. It is sooo nice being able to lie down on a 12 hour flight... and drink champagne.. and have as much food as one wants. Our steward was a Maori that surfed, with Tatts like me... lovely guy took a liking to us, and with a complimentary bottle of french champagne under our arms, we arrived into the waiting arms of Vicky, Gary and Ollie Rascal at LAX!

And here we are in the concrete jungle. The contrast from flying out of Auckland with a full moon rising over the city, to flying into a hazy mid day concrete LA was phenominal. We are really so lucky NZ / Australia with the natural world being enjoyed and not paved over... it is such a different way of life...

Highlights and events of the not much longer than 24 hours since we arrived...

Chillin with the Greetis clan... fish burritos for our first dinner (and Dahl and rotis for our second! So yum!)... have a crazy older (read filthy rich coked up late 50's woman. Possibly famous actress or stripper from the glory days), first tell us that a truck we were looking at would never make it to mexico, then invite us in to look around her multi million dollar mansion on the cliffs, and give us ice cream (America you never cease to amaze me)... surf in the warm water - which gave me a very warm fuzzy feeling inside when I realised thats where I will be spending a large majority of my waking hours the next 5 months... ah the good life.

And that my friends, is probably enough for now. The next few days will be spent buying a truck, sorting out papers, and then we shall depart across the border... to the land of corrupt police, donkey shows... and what we came for... cheap drugs (read long right hand points, fish tacos, warm sunshine and cervaza)...

Home

theladykelly — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 11:46:00 GMT

Packing is hard. Trying to get everything packed and done by tomorrow afternoon so I can make a trip to Auckland to see some friends and then enjoy the last full day in Raglan for Dads "50th" (the real one I will miss as I will be somewhere in Central America!). Most likely I will continue to dawdle along and be running around like a headless chicken come the last hour before departure.

ooo... that sounds exciting... last hour before departure...

top packing tips / comments provided by my glorious friends (counter commented by my lunatic self):

Alex: No trousers (aka pants, jeans)
Kelly: What?... I was considering taking two.

Kymmie with a Shimmie: The bare minimum
Kelly:...nah that sounds too... bare... more like... the essentials.

Someplace: No white t-shirts
Kelly: But when I get brown, white will look best...

... like I said. Packing is hard.