My Next 30 Years

And just like that my 20's are over.  I can only hope my thirties don't fly by as quickly as my twenties did, but that seems unlikely.  In honor of the occasion, here's my song of the day and the recipe for my yearly birthday dessert (I'm not one for cake).

"I think I'll take a moment to celebrate my age, the ending of an era and the turning of a page.  Now it's time to focus in on where I go from here, Lord have mercy on my next thirty years!"

The recipe for these amazing treats is from one of my mom's good friends, Mildred Youkers.

Fudge Filled Squares

Crust & Topping Ingredients: 
1 cup butter
1.5 cups brown sugar
1 egg
1 tsp. vanilla extract
2 cups flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
2.5 cups quick rolled oats

Filling Ingredients:
1 (12 oz) pkg chocolate chips (I prefer bittersweet or dark)
1 can sweetened condensed milk
2 Tbsp. butter
1/2 tsp. salt
1 cup chopped nuts (optional)
1 tsp. vanilla extract

Directions:

1. In a large bowl, beat together butter and sugar until smooth and light.  Blend in egg and vanilla.
2. Combine the flour, baking soda, and salt and mix well.
3. Stir in oats and press half of the mixture into the bottom of a greased 9x13" pan.  Reserve the remaining mixture for the topping.
4. Mix together the chocolate, milk, butter, and salt in a saucepan over low heat.  Stir until smooth.
5. Stir in the nuts and vanilla.
6. Spread the filling evenly over the base mixture.  Sprinkle the reserved base mixture evenly over the chocolate layer and press lightly.
7.  Bake at 350 degrees for 35 minutes.
8. Cool and cut into squares.

The calorie count in these gems is not for the faint of heart (it's over the 500 calorie mark), but if you're only going to eat them once a year then I figure it's ok.  ENJOY!

Leaving Paradise

Carlo (the owner of the AirBnB where I’m staying) was nice enough to let me hang out at his place until it was time to be at the airport, so I had a super relaxed last morning in Raro.  I’m woman enough to admit that when I hopped, ok fine, climbed back onto the bike to return it that morning my rear end did not appreciate the contours of that seat.  I made a quick pit stop at the little bakery to purchase a pastry to accompany my morning cup of joe, leisurely enjoyed on the deck.  Thankfully it was a very short ride back to the rental place and a short walk back to the house.  With breakfast finished it was time for one last walk on the beach.  It was a warm sunny morning, and as I stepped onto the sand the first thing I spied was a plastic bread bag.  Litter on the beach is not how I like to start my morning, but since it was a bag I decided to leave the bread for the birds and use the bag to pick up other rubbish I might stumble upon.  The odd thing about Rarotonga is that there’s hardly any litter on their beaches, but there is a lot of broken glass.  Mostly green glass, from the local beer bottles, so between the glass on the beach and the potential for stonefish in the water, aqua-shoes are a must when visiting the island.  Anyway, I did find out that every major Polynesian language has the same word for ocean, ‘moana’ - so now you know the true name of that famous film wooing adults and children alike.   With a shower and my bags completely packed all that was left was to wait.  The Cook Islands puts out a free magazine called ‘Escape’ and there were a few copies in my room so at least I had interesting reading material.  I think that might even be where I learned the ‘moana’ fact.

You start to realize how small the island truly is when you recognize other tourists whilst people watching at the airport.  Perhaps they sat across from you at an island night show, or you struck up a conversation watching the dancers perform a free show at the market.  Another reminder of how aviation has shrunk the world is the glimpse of a Pittsburgh Pirates hat.  Initially I was not happy to find I had a window seat, as I prefer to be able to get up as often as I want without disturbing other, but I decided it might be worth it for the view o the island as we took off.  Oddly enough I have Polynesian music on my device (from my early love of the movie “The Legend of Johnny Lingo"), so the sounds of ‘Te Vaka’ in my ears I left my little slice of South Pacific Paradise.  After Rarotonga disappeared the layers and patterns of the clouds, back-dropped by the deep blue ocean, were completely mesmerizing and ever changing.  The island music certainly set the mood and I can’t think of a better way to leave such a lovely part of the world.

My flight arrived early into Auckland and since I’m an IHG Credit Card holder my room at the Holiday Inn was free and I even got upgraded to a suite!  Dropping my bags in the room I quickly headed down the road to the store to pick up some of the special flavors of ‘Tim Tams’.  When I’d found out about these flavors my brother had asked me to send him some.  Once I found out how much it would cost to mail them I told him to just wait and I’d bring them home.  Luckily for him the store was only five minutes down the road because I don’t like wandering around large cities in the dark.  Back in my room I succumbed to the pull of technology and connected to the free hotel wifi.  While it’s nice to be without a connection, sometimes the backlog when you return makes me wonder if it is worth being unplugged.  My current state (i.e. Alive & Well) was relayed to various parties, an email about my potential position at work was responded to, and photos were uploaded.  Everything else was ignored...if you’re going to unplug you might was well make the re-plugging process slow, just in case there are unknown dangers ;)

An Island on Sunday

As mentioned previously, the locals still hold fast to their Christian beliefs.  As such, the six churches built around the island by the London Missionary Society in the late 1800’s are still used today and are frequented by locals and visitors alike.  Most visitors come to hear the beautiful sound of the Maori hymns and songs sung a capella by the congregations.

Surrounded by their voices, the sounds echoing off the ancient walls, the experience is quite moving.  Conducted in both English and Maori (the official languages) I was able to at least understand the sermon, while the majority of the other proceedings (an infant baptism, weekly announcements, and singing) were done in Maori only.  I did find it a bit sad how many visitors came and went during the service - it just seemed disrespectful.  Overall, it was a nice way to spend a Sunday morning. I was reminded of the Apostle Paul as the pastor instructed those of us visiting to “take our greetings back to your home countries, as brothers and sisters in Christ.”

For the last couple days I’ve been reading my way through a wonderful coffee table book (which you might have noticed I’ve quoted quite a bit in my blog posts), so upon returning from church I sat on the porch outside my room and continued reading for about an hour.  My coffee and oatmeal for breakfast had become a memory and I decided I would make my way across (technically ‘around’ as no roads cross the island) the island to the Muri district and finally (hopefully) get to try the famous fish sandwiches at The Mooring Fish Cafe.

 Most things in Rarotonga are closed on Sunday, remnants of the “blue laws” originally put in place by the missionaries, so I was hoping that my hour-long bike ride would not be in vain.  In addition to the Sunday caveat, many businesses close between 3-6pm so I needed to make sure I arrived before 3pm.  Blessedly they were open when I arrived and I got to order their FOB sandwich (crumbed mahi with lime mayo).  It was huge, but thankfully I was quite hungry by this point and had no trouble consuming it entirely.

With fuel in my belly I decided I should carry on and continue my loop.  Before arriving in Rarotonga I had not been on a bicycle in nearly a year and the seat on this bike was definitely not adjusted to the correct height.  So, although “just” 32km around the island, I was definitely feeling it by the time I arrived back ‘home’.  The bright side is that I can now say that I have successfully circumnavigated Rarotonga, so there’s pride in the pain I suppose.  Although, I do have to spend a lot of time sitting in the next couple days, so hopefully I don’t regret my trek.

With my last full day in the Cook Islands coming to a close, I most certainly was going to view my last sunset on the beach.  A brisk walk on the beach to work out the kinks from my bike ride and I was soon settled on a towel to enjoy the view.  I enjoy a good sunrise as well, but there’s something about a sunset.  Perhaps because a sunset seems to linger.  Even after it has sunk below the horizon you can still gaze out at the colors streaking the sky or burnishing the clouds.  While it wasn’t the most spectacular sunset I’ve ever seen, it was serene: only the sound of the waves and the faint rustle of palm fronds overhead.  Back in the flat I thumbed through the DVD collection and settled on something suitably diverting.  With only one TV channel on the island (it never seems to come in clearly anyway) and internet being rather expensive, DVD’s are still going strong here.  And that, my friends, was my last night on the island.  Tantalizing, I know...

Rarotonga Market & Scuba Diving

I decided that renting a bike would ensure I could travel around with a bit more ease, and a lot less time spent in the process, so on Saturday morning I walked down the road to a bike rental shop.  Since I wanted a basket I had to get a "beach cruiser" which, sadly, only had 3 gears.  Oh well, the leisurely pace was fine.  About thirty minutes later I had arrived at the Punanga Nui Market (the reason I had left Aitutaki on Friday).  After locating a small palm tree and chaining up my bike I was free to wander around.  Cook Islanders are very skilled craftsmen; carvings, paintings, hand-woven baskets and hats, beautiful jewelry from their special black pearls - everything was so tempting.  A delicious, fresh-made fruit smoothie kept me cool while I browsed the stalls.  I nearly bought a few paintings, there were so many beautiful ones, but in the end I just couldn't bring myself to buy any of the items.  I certainly don't need more stuff, and my suitcase was already pretty full.

When I had mentioned to Carlo that I was hoping to go to the Saturday market, he advised that at 10am there is usually a performance at the main stage.  He was absolutely correct, and it was put on by Highland Paradise!  The same MC and a lot of the same drummers.  This time the dancers were all the little kids (tamaiti), and they certainly were cute!!  

They were still learning their choreography, but they use the show as a fundraiser.  They take the kids to do shows around the world promoting Cook Island culture.  I also managed to catch a video of him explaining the complexity of the drumming to which they are dancing.

I had booked an afternoon scuba diving trip with Dive Rarotonga, which was a 2 minute walk from my flat, so after a quick bite to eat I headed back there.  Although I'm open-water certified, I haven't been diving in a couple years and wasn't sure I would feel comfortable doing a regular dive.  The introductory dive ended up being an excellent choice as I was definitely a bit rusty.  The instructor Paul was fantastic and since the Italian-Polish couple, while not certified, had been diving a few times we sped through "introductory" portion.  While gearing up for the skills test in the pool Paul asked me if I was actually American.  He told me he was surprised when he saw my address listed on my form as the US, as my accent didn't sound American to him.  I told him I had been living in New Zealand for the last 6 months, but he said that wasn't quite it.  He pointedly asked if I had been spending a lot of time around people from the Northern UK.  Shocked by such a specific question, I laughed and said, "Yes.  I was house sitting for a couple from Wales and Scotland and their friends were from Wales and England!"  I couldn't believe he could tell, I really didn't think I had picked up much of an accent.  As for the diving, Paul told us that on the morning dive they could hear the whales talking to each other, so we were excited for that possibility.

The clarify of the water was astounding.  I'm guessing the visibility was at least 12 meters, but it was possibly more.  We saw several unusual fish and lots of coral.  There were a few creatures that when Paul got near them and snapped his fingers they either disappeared inside a hole or changed colors!  I had forgotten to put my camera on underwater mode before we started our descent and once we'd reach our depth the pressure was too much and I couldn't use the buttons to switch modes.  Oh well, I was able to edit some of them.  In the end we never did hear any whales, but we got to see a turtle!!

All in all, it was a great afternoon under the sea.

After a shower I took a walk down to Black Rock Beach and then enjoyed a spectacular sunset.  As the song says, "Life was good today!"

Cook Island Culture

T'uanu didn't take me to the airport Friday morning, he was already there!  I found him in the waiting area as I arrived.  Ever the gentleman, he eventually saw me sitting by myself and came over to chat (he'd been talking to Rino beside him when I arrived so I didn't join them).  He was heading back home to Auckland, but was heading back to Rarotonga via Atiu so we weren't on the same flight.  You simply can't help but immediately like him - he befriends everyone it seems.  As I headed to the tarmac he gave me a hug and a kiss goodbye.  He's definitely my island Grandpa, even if he doesn't know it, and I'm incredibly glad to have made his acquaintance.

An uneventful flight (no cockpit visits) and 40 minutes later I was collecting my luggage.  I was staying at an AirBnB on the western side of Rarotonga owned by Carlo, an Italian native from the Venice area.  He gave me a quick tour along his area and pointed out the areas of interest and places to eat that were within walking distance of his home.  I had one of their little flats for the next three nights and after dropping my bags I decided to go for a walk.  I found a great little bakery and treated myself to some passion-fruit cheesecake.  It wasn't a baked cheesecake (which is my preferred type of cheesecake) and I couldn't quite figure out what made up the crust, but it was delicious.  Their sign said they aren't open on the weekends, which made me a little disappointed, but I figured I'd try again Monday before I left.  After returning to the flat I lathered on my sunscreen and headed to the beach.  Just a 2 minute walk (that's probably generous) down the driveway and around the neighbor's wall is the path to a great little spot.

The water was amazingly clear and the views were beautiful.  As with all of Rarotonga (and all of the Cook Islands I believe), there are stonefish (one of the most venomous fish) so water shoes of some sort are a safety requirement.  Anyway, you can walk out into the water up to your waist and stand still and the fish will eventually swim up to you; no snorkel needed, you can see them clear as day!  In between my trips into the water to cool off I walked the beach and read my book.  A perfectly relaxing afternoon.

At 5:30pm the shuttle for the Highland Paradise Cultural Show picked me up.  Although I had done the "island night" when I first arrived, I was told that there are only 2 authentic cultural nights on Rarotonga and this was one of them.  Since I had been unable to do their day tour when I first arrived I chose them over Te Vara Nui's dinner show.  The evening started with a tour of  the ancient village of Tinomana Enuarurutini Ariki (an ariki was a high chief or ruler).  When he and his people converted to Christianity in the 1830's they left the settlement and moved down to the coastline.  Our guide talked of how the Cook Islands and New Zealand, specifically the Taranaki region, have a special connection as that is where some of the first Maori people who sailed from Rarotonga settled.  The people now known as Polynesians spread across the eastern Pacific by sailing in double-hulled canoes and formed a cultural triangle between Hawaii, Easter Island, and New Zealand.  As in New Zealand, the indigenous people are generically known as Maori, as is their language.  A marae is a "communal or sacred place that serves religious and social purposes in Polynesian societies" and although not much was left of theirs, its significance still remains and we partook in a tapu lifting ceremony there before dinner (you can read more about the topic of tapu here).

For dinner I ended up seated with a couple from Sydney visiting Raro on their honeymoon and a nice young German girl who was also traveling solo.  The umu (earth oven) feast was delicious and I was able to try another of their local dishes called "rukau" which is taro leaves cooked in coconut cream.  Unlike the poke, which I loved, this was certainly not something I was longing to eat again.  Their dance troupe was called Tu Rama and they were excellent - our table was right next to the stage so I had a much better view than at my last cultural show.

Because the people lacked a written language legends, dance, and song were how the earliest Cook Islanders passed on their history; many of the dances we saw were introduced with an explanation of their origin or the story the dances told.

Although the dances were excellent, the drummers were just as impressive.   I definitely enjoyed learning more the culture and history of the island during the evening, so it was well worth the unplanned expenditure.

A South Pacific Lagoon Cruise

It poured all night and was still sprinkling on and off when I got up this morning.  While not thrilled, I know how the weather can change here in the tropics and I was determined to hope for the best.  “You can get burnt on a cloudy day, but can you get burnt when it’s raining?” I thought to myself.  Because if you can’t get sunburnt in the rain that would certainly be a silver lining… Traveling by oneself in the tropics certainly makes proper sunscreen application a bit of a trial.  I’m decently capable of applying sunscreen to my own back when by myself, in front of a mirror, but on a boat with lots of people...you either must swallow your pride and find someone from whom you might ask help (without seeming creepy or seductive) or manage yourself and pray you don’t miss any areas.  Anyway, back to the day.  I was taking a day cruise to some of the smaller islands around Aitutaki, so sunny weather was certainly a perk.  As I walked out to the road to await my pickup the sun came out!  T’uanu was crossing the road from the car rental shop and he joked that my appearance had brought the sun.  I was the first pick up and the only other one for us was an American family from San Jose, CA.  Upon finding out that I was from Pittsburgh, they made sure to let me know they were Sharks fans.

We were seated at the same table on the cruise and they jokingly adopted me into their family (despite my Penguins fan status).  The boat was very neat, and very comfortable.  We set off once the day-tour group arrived (you can fly in from Rarotonga to do the cruise and fly back to Rarotonga the same day).  We had six crew members, including the captain; and three of them serenaded us throughout the day as we were cruising along (to be fair the captain sometimes joined in on the spoons, so I guess there were 4 musicians).  They were quite good and it definitely set the mood.  There was no way you could look out at the world-class view, listening to the ukelele and drums and not think you were in the South Pacific.  As with the Island Night show, a prayer was said before we embarked, they take their Christianity very seriously here.  It has become part of their culture, so although I have no idea how genuine their faith, I appreciate it none-the-less.

The water is nearly indescribable, only because any words I could use would not do the shades of blue justice.  Even a photograph doesn’t quite capture what the human eye can perceive.  Needless to say, they don’t call this paradise jokingly.

We stopped for a short while at two islands (one was called Akaiami and the other I can’t remember) for a walk or a swim, and then had a stop in the water so we could go snorkeling.  While the fish didn’t seem to be as numerous as my times at the Great Barrier Reef or Ningaloo in Australia, the visibility and clarity of the water (despite all the rain last night), was excellent. We got to see a Giant Trevally and lots of giant clams.   I enjoyed my ocean time and managed not to get any sunburn on my back or legs, so it was a definite win in my book.

After snorkeling the food was blessed and then they served us an amazing buffet lunch - cooked right there on the boat while we were snorkeling.  There was fresh fish, freshly grated coconut (one of the crew had done a demonstration earlier in the itinerary), fruit (raw and grilled - delicious either way), taro, ‘poke’ (the local dessert made using mashed and baked banana, arrowroot, or pawpaw - very odd texture, but delicious).  I was also able to try breadfruit for the first time, at least I believe that is what I ate - not a favorite, but they’ve been eating it here for centuries.

Our final stop of the day was at Tapuaetai, more commonly known by its nickname, “One Foot Island”.  **You can watch a film version of the legend of One Foot Island below**  We got two souvenir passport stamps, one from the One Foot Island and one from the The Vaka Cruise.  With a prayer of thanks for the day, we all disembarked and said our goodbyes. 

All in all, it was a fabulous day and I’m ruing my decision to prioritize a visit to the Saturday market in Rarotonga over staying in Aitutaki another full day on the water.  Back at Rino’s at settled by the water with a book until sunset.  It wasn’t spectacular, but you can’t get this view back in PA and there’s always something relaxing about watching the sun sink beneath the horizon.

From Raro to Aitutaki

Today was one of those days.

No, not one of THOSE days, one of the days that as you crawl into bed you’ve still got a smile on your face.  It’s hard not to go backwards, since those memories are most recent, but I’ll retell the day in chronological order.  I stored my luggage at the hotel upon checkout and walked down the road to rent a bicycle.  They obliged and gave me a basket for the front, so I paid them, plopped my bag in the basket, and peddled off.  Beautiful morning, lovely sunshine, the kilometers kept whizzing by as I headed southeast towards Titikaveka Beach.

A few photo stops along the way, but mostly I just enjoyed the views as I traveled along.  About 9.5 miles later I arrived and had a relaxing walk along the beach.  I had thought that all the amazing beaches in Australia had spoiled all others for me - someone told me that while there and I was inclined to believe them, that is, until I came here.  The South Pacific has well earned its fame.  The stunning aquamarine, with the bonus of warmer water temperatures and more palm trees, does have Australia beat in those categories.

Without knowing exactly how long it would take to get back I turned back.  After a quick lunch stop in town, I returned the bike, collected my luggage, walked across the road and was checking in my bag and waiting for my flight.  It’s a very small airport, no security screening for a domestic flights, and just 40 minutes in the air and you’re in Aitutaki.  “The sand, palm and seascape of this lagoon is one of the Cook Islands’ most beautiful physical features, whether viewed from the air or the water.” Smith & Lay As we were getting ready to land the flight attendant interrupted my perusal of the local newspaper to inform me that on Air Rarotonga they choose one passenger to invited into the cockpit to watch the arrival.  Did I want to go?  Absolutely!  The view from the air is incredible, you can see exactly where the reef ends as the color changes to a deep blue.

“From a plane Aitutaki appears gradually from the dark blue ocean water as a turquoise triangle bordered by a ruffle of white where the Pacific swells are turned to foam by its reef.  Inside the triangle the water is the palest shade of green, mottled with pink by the coral heads which stud the lagoon’s floor.  The motu come into sight, a long line of narrow islands, some only a few metres across, others which taper away into the distance.  The motu are crowded with coconut palms which jostle each other at the shores and crane their long necks out over the sand towards the shimmering water.”

The two pilots were very nice and when they asked where I was from they were surprised by my answer.  They informed me that I didn’t have a very American accent.  I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I just told them I’d been living in New Zealand for the last six months and we all agreed that must be why they couldn’t tell I was American right away.  When they found out that I was traveling around by myself, the one commented, “Well that’s ballsy”.  I never know how to respond when someone informs me that they view my solo travel in such a light.  Even Inge told me she couldn’t imagine traveling by herself, but I’ve digressed.  After we landed and I came out of the cockpit, one of the other passengers, an older woman, cheekily asked if the pilot was my boyfriend.


My arrival into Aitutaki just keeps getting better as I’m greeted by what can only be described as the most adorable island grandpa.  I’m sure he was quite the looker in his day because he still has a handsome face and a winning smile.  With the greeting of “Kia Orana” he placed a beautiful ‘ei around my neck (presumably made of frangipani and pandanus - it smelled amazing), gave me the customary kiss on the cheek, and introduced himself as T’uanu.  If I remember correctly, he is Rino’s cousin, and on our ride to the airport I find out that he’s lived in Auckland for the last 50-odd years and has 8 children, 27 grandchildren, and 13 great-grandchildren.  He’s a very affable guy and in true Cook Island style, loves to kid around.  Apparently he only picks up the single girls from the airport, he makes someone else pick up the couples - wink, wink.  After setting my stuff in the room I head down to the beach for a walk.  I didn't wander too far and soon decide to walk down the road a bit to find some dinner.  Twenty minutes later and everything I found didn’t seem to be open (most takeaway places don’t reopen until 6pm), so I turned back towards “home”.  Another reason I like this island is that while walking people would smile and wave as they went by, some even said “Kia Orana”.  That definitely didn’t happen in Rarotonga.  Cafe Aitutaki was open by the time I walked past again and I decided to stop and order a burger.  When asked if it was “for here or takeaway” it must have been a God-thing that I said, “I’ll have it here”.  What possessed me to sit alone, outside at a little table, in public, when I could have taken it back to my room and eaten it at the privacy of my patio table with a view of the beach?  Halfway through my burger (which was phenomenal, by the way) who should rock up but T’uanu! Ever the gentleman, he sat down and started talking with me.  When he found out I would only be staying on the island until Friday morning, he politely asked if he could show me around.  He had no qualms about putting his takeaway burger in the trunk; he’s such a sweetie he even opened my car door for me.

Our first stop is the lookout point, where on a clear day you can see all the way to the other islands belonging to Aitutaki.  From one end of the island to the other, he drove me to all the highlights, occasionally apologizing that I was unable to see much (not long after the lookout point it was dark).  While we drive around, he tells me about his life, interspersed with interesting Cook Islands facts, points of interest, the meaning of the names of different areas and from where the names came.  I soon discover that his grandfather, uncles, and father were all policemen, and as the only child he was expected to follow in their footsteps.  He informed his Dad that he didn’t want to become a policeman and that he instead wanted to study horticulture.  He managed to get a scholarship to a university in New Zealand and in the end he never moved back to the Cook Islands.  Eventually he quit school, because it was all textbook and he wanted the hands-on practical stuff of horticulture, and got a job planting trees.  As time went on he decided that to honor his fathers wishes he would join the police force, but it seems he did not tell his father that he had joined.  Exciting escapades as a detective and a case that brought him back to his home island undercover he cracked a forgery-theft case and made it back home without anyone in his family ever knowing.  I enjoyed our little tour immensely, for reasons that had very little to do with the tour.  When we got back to Rino’s I gave him a big hug and thanked him for his time.  I had the biggest grin as I headed back to my room.  What a lovely little island.

Fun Aitutaki Facts: You are no longer allowed to build any buildings taller than a coconut tree.  The island is also entirely dog free.

**NOTE: All quotes in this post are from "The Cook Islands" by Ewan Smith & Graeme Lay, 1998

Sept. 4th Take Two

With the date line crossed on my way to Rarotonga, I've now lived through Sept. 4th twice.  Gill and James were so wonderful - they took me to New Plymouth to catch my flight and we stopped in town for lunch at a wonderful Dim Sum restaurant.  We checked my bag in and then sat and had a coffee while waiting for my flight.  As there is no security lines or anything they waited with me until I joined the line to walk out onto the tarmac and board the plane.  As I was crossing the tarmac I heard my name and they were standing at the fence waving me off.  On the four hour flight to Raro I was beside a young Cook Island man with his infant son.  The medical care on the island isn't as good as in New Zealand, so when his son developed jaundice they sent him to Auckland for treatment.  Although the Cook Islands are self-governing, they are in free association with New Zealand and their health care covers their trips to-and-from NZ for medical reasons.  The country is made up of 15 islands and few nations have such a disproportionate ratio of ocean to land.  Each island has its own identity, strongly influenced by the differences in the landscape of each island.

My arrival at 2am (CI time) made me very thankful that I'd booked at The Islander Hotel because it's directly across the street from the airport - you can't miss it, even if you're directionally challenged.  It was a bit overpriced in my opinion, but the location was incredibly convenient. Their morning breakfast was absolutely delicious - pancakes, eggs, bacon, three kinds of fresh tropical fruit, and muffins.  I wasn't able to get a hold of the office at Highland Paradise to book their cultural day tour, so I ended up walking into town (Avarua is a good 30 minute walk from the hotel) to browse.  There were so many things I wanted to buy, but my suitcase was already full and I didn't actually need any of it.  I managed to come away with two tshirts for my nephews (they're birthdays are coming up) and some postcards to send back to my friends in Hawera.

The churches in the Cook Islands are famous, and there are six in total on Rarotonga.   The Maori people quickly adopted Christianity once visited by London Missionary Society missionaries in the 1820's.  The resulting denomination is now known as CICC and visitors are encouraged to visit to hear the beautiful singing during church services.

Cook Islands Christian Church Avarua

I noticed the National Museum on the map and it didn't look too far away so I had so I decided to go visit and learn some more about the country.  The pieces and artwork they had in the museum were amazing - the people here are extremely creative, but since I couldn't take photos in the museum you'll have to take my word for it.  The Beachcomber Gallery had some lovely pieces, but they only allowed photos of the carvings:

The walk back felt like it took twice as long, but I did make it back.  The hotel book in my room mentioned loungers by the shore, which sounded perfect for reading a book.  Unfortunately, they only had tables and chairs by the Hula Bar with a view of the ocean.  I made it work and enjoyed the sunshine while waiting for evening to arrive.

The island buffet and cultural night was a phenomenal welcome dinner.  I had been assigned a table with a NZ family there on vacation, so at least I had some company and didn't feel segregated or alone.  We got to try several of their local cuisines: ika mata (raw fish marinated in lime & coconut), poke (cooked fruit pudding), and taro.  All of the food was excellent and their dances and drum music were fantastic!  Definitely puts you in the tropical-island-vacation state of mind.

So Long, Farewell

 Last Sunday, before church, Olya invited me to stop by her house the next afternoon for a cuppa and then after church she stopped me and invited me to lunch with her as her husband Andrew was out of town.  Between the two visits we had some very enjoyable conversations.  In case I didn't mention previously, her and her husband had been missionaries to Russia for several years (she is Russian and he is Kiwi), so we had a great chat about life in Russia for her growing up and even when they were serving on the field.  With a love of missions in common it was fascinating to get her take on the effects of all the "help" from America and New Zealand on the Russian church.  I was compelled, as I often am when speaking with people about missions, to recommend Steve Saint's book, "The Great Omission" to her.  I was halfway through reading Amor Towles novel, "A Gentleman In Moscow" - which is absolutely excellent - so it was fortuitous that we would have these conversations about Russia.  Because of the novel I had a much better, and perhaps fresher, understanding of all the changes in Russia over the 20th Century.

On Tuesday I had my last visit with the beautiful ladies at craft group.  They had a special morning tea with some scrumptious scones lovingly prepared by Valda,  Lesley, the master card maker, had handcrafted a card (which everyone signed), and Yvonne presented me with a delightful jade pendant in the koru design (which is also the logo of the church).  Pastor Paul had stopped by, as was his habit, so he gave a lovely blessing on me and the pendant (according to Margaret jade is to be blessed before it is given - I'd not heard that before, but Paul graciously wove that into his prayer at her request).  As I've said before, they're such a fun group of women and I will definitely miss them.

Gill and James were originally to return late Wednesday evening or mid-day Thursday.  When they didn't arrive Wednesday night I was glad because it meant I would get the chance to visit the Hospice Shop one last time and say farewell.  Everyone was so lovely.  Even though I didn't know that many of them very well that didn't stop them from expressing their thanks for my help.  It was a fitting last day volunteering, everyone was in good spirits and the banter back-and-forth was quite jolly; I love a good laugh.  With a beautiful card in hand, and their kind words to be sure and return some day, I gave some hugs and headed out to meet Val, Mike and Eileen.  Gill then called and said that they had not left Auckland and were just going to stay one more night but would definitely be home on Friday.

An affable couple, they even brought me home gifts from their trip!  As if loaning me their friends before leaving wasn't gift enough.  An exquisite purse from Morocco and a neat tea-towel from Wales (it has a bunch of Welsh recipes on it so I'm definitely going to give some of them a try) were very thoughtful, and thankfully light-weight.  They decided I also deserved a nice dinner out, so while catching up with Mike and Eileen over coffee Saturday morning we all decided on Indian food.  Since Val had just returned with her cat from the vet she didn't join us, but we did stop by her place before going to dinner.  She gifted me an attractive jade pendant in the "twist" design which symbolises the bond between two people, connecting the spirits of friends.  It was so incredibly thoughtful, and according to her you never give a gift of jade without wearing it first yourself (perhaps everyone has their own theories of jade, although everyone seems to agree that you are not to buy jade for yourself), so she assured me that she had worn it first.  Eileen then gave me a charming pair of diamante tear-drop earrings.  She has been such a blessing, letting me user her computer for my exams, stopping by for cups of coffee, inviting me to the cinema - she's a dear to be sure.  Dinner was perfect, the food was excellent, and the company amiable, and the conversation flowing easily. 

Not knowing what Gill and James had planned for Sunday, I took Valda up on her offer to pick me up for church this morning.  Thankfully Nigel warned me, when I greeted him upon arriving, that he was going to ask me up to the front during the service.  He presented me with a 2019 Taranaki calendar and thanked me for willingly joining in and helping out, whether singing with the music team, cleaning up after morning tea, or some-what willingly doing a duet for special music.  I assured them all that their open arms and warm welcoming made being willing to join in and be a part of their community a breeze.  Olya presented me with a necklace with the phrase "It is well with my soul", which I absolutely love, and Inge made me promise to keep in touch.  I assured her that if they ever made a visit to her Mom in Vermont she must let me know so I could meet up with them or they could come visit me.  As everyone kept asking if I would come back, I must admit that I might just have to come back.  Even though I've only been in Hawera for three months it feels as if I have more friends here than I had from all my time in Cairns.  In all fairness to Cairns, my friends there were as transient as I was, most of them being backpackers, so it's not fair to equate the two locales.  I joined Valda and Yvonne for a coffee after church, and when Valda eventually dropped me back at the house we ended up sitting in the car talking for nearly an hour.  So many sweet and caring people here...preparing to leave and saying goodbye can be so strange.  I've said it before - I'm not good at goodbyes.  As with packing a suitcase, for me the frequency only barely increases my corresponding proficiency. I suppose I must simply remind myself that I've been incredibly blessed with the variety of people here who have taken me into their lives and made it difficult to say 'farewell'.

Happy memories can't fit into a suitcase, but they're the lightest things to carry.

Tick-Tock

I'll admit that sometimes I operate in a state of denial.  Although the calendar has clearly shown that the month is almost over, I'm still almost pretending it's July that is coming to an end.  My time will soon be up and I will return to once again being a house guest instead of a house sitter.  I will once again pack up my suite case and get on a plane (flying doesn't bother me it's the repacking I don't properly appreciate).  How can the time have gone so quickly and yet I feel as if I've been here 6 months not 3?  As a few people have commented to recently, "you've found a community, as you always do".  I've just got my groove, a semi-routine, and things once again will change.  I alluded to my preparations for re-entry into Western PA life in a previous post, but they're certainly becoming more thought-consuming (when I'm not in denial, of course).  I still remember my re-entry struggles when returning from my semester abroad in Italy and from my year in Australia.  You cannot truly prepare yourself as you never know what will have changed in your absence.  Or, for that matter, what little things you might not have noticed had changed, had you been present.  As I prepare to sing at church tomorrow morning my thoughts definitely drift to my church in PA; the possible new faces, the lack of some of the old ones, a certain Sparkle no longer able to make surprise appearances in my pew.

An email from one of the big bosses at work earlier in the week didn't help my feelings of restlessness and uncertainty about returning.  The position to which I had sort of resigned myself to try, as it was the only option presented to me upon return, had apparently been offered to another candidate.  Now it seems they want me to go back to doing Logistics for the client I managed before my departure for Australia in 2013.  That piece of news certainly had me rethinking everything; at least my return to the US (I've still got 6 months on my visa) and my return to iDL.  Of course a look at my bank account quickly reminded me that six months without a job, and plenty of travel expenses, made having any job so quickly after returning home a blessing.  The ever-present struggle for contentment rears its ugly head again...

How should I fill my spare time when I return?  I shed all my responsibilities before striking out on this new path, do I take them all back up again?  As I think about the things which stir my heart, how do I put those God-given passions into use?  Not long ago I wrote about the burden for refugees, and although I'd done some quick internet searches a couple years ago I never went beyond that initial information gathering.  Pittsburgh has agencies that support immigrants and refugees, there's certainly no reason I couldn't potentially volunteer with them.  So my baby-step towards accountability is blogging I suppose.  When your thoughts stay in your head no one can call you on them or remind you that you've had no action on them.  We're all busy, but what do we have to show for our busyness?  I don't think I was incredibly idle or occupied with useless endeavours, but I think it is healthy to take an honest look at how you spend your time.  A clean break from everything has made contending with that "honest look" a bit easier for me as I make my re-entry.

The Thrill of Recognition

When it happened, I could not say.  Some time ago, quite possibly while living in Australia, a friend of mine recommended a novel to me.  My "To Be Read" list is quite long, and many of the books are not always available on Paperbackswap.com or at my local library, so some just stay on the list for quite some time.  Two weeks ago I was going through my list, searching the South Taranaki library catalogue, and not having much luck. It seemed most of the titles were not in their circulation.  But, as providence would have it, "The Thorn Birds" by Colleen McCullough was available at the Stratford library.  The back of the cover describes it as "the dramatic and colourful family saga of outback Australia", so I was a bit surprised when I started the first chapter and it was set in New Zealand.

Shearing sheep in Taranaki - Tawhiti Museum

On page six, while describing the area where they lived, it mentioned a Mount Egmont, which gave me pause.  I thought to myself, "Mt. Taranaki is in Egmont National Park.  I wonder if the European name for it is actually Mt. Egmont?"  Not much else was given, in terms of describing where they lived, until page fourty-one when my suspicions were confirmed while describing young Frank: "A small structure of pure power, at seventeen he had never been defeated in a fight and was already famous throughout the Taranaki peninsula."  You can be sure I was grinning when I read that sentence. A sergeant from Wanganui, the next biggest town south of Hawera, is mentioned as well!  I can't help but chuckle when I think that had I read the book while in Australia I'd have never remembered these town names when I moved here in May.

Tawhiti Museum, Taranaki

The story is split into several sections and the next section is set in outback NSW, in towns I have never heard of, nor visited.  I did visit an outback station on my trip to the Flinder's Ranges, and had been to Alice Springs, so there was a bit of recognition in that sense, but not quite the same thrill as those first parts about Taranaki.  I suppose the biggest difference for me and someone who's never been Down Under is that I didn't have to use as much of my imagination while reading the descriptive landscape sections.  The vast distances, types of birds or gumtrees, even the "kangas" made sense to me.  Reading about the devastating bush fire they experience, with all the current wildfires in the news lately (whether in Greece, Portugal, Australia, Canada, or the U.S.), certainly struck a note.

When Meg & Luke move to Queensland in the next section of the book I again had that little grin when reading about places dear to my heart.  Their vacation to the Atherton Tablelands reminded me of my own lovely memories from a visit to Lake Eacham.  The scent of the molasses from the sugar cane fields and the constant humidity of FNQ that Meg disliked so much required no imagination on my part.  Memory served me far better than imagination ever could.

Overall, I enjoyed the book because it was unpredictable.  Not in an obnoxious way, but in the way that life itself is unpredictable.  Things happen, people make choices and have to live with the far-reaching and sometimes unimaginable consequences, you just never know how things will turn out.  I'm near the end of the book now and this sentence absolutely resonated with me:  "And whether they came home again or not, they would belong neither here nor there, for they would have lived on two continents and sampled two different ways of life."

Fossil Coast B&B

Rainbow Trout

On Thursday, while volunteering at the hospice shop, Lauren asked if I had been out to Yarrow's Bakeries.  I told her that I had, but she still asked if I wanted to go along, as she was picking up items for our morning tea.  She's about 21 I think, and she seemed keen for me to ride along.  When we got back, Allan asked me if I'd like to visit the trout hatchery with him.  He apologized that he'd not thought of it before, as he'd only just come back from feeding them a few minutes earlier.  He's such a sweet man, and although trout aren't exactly my favorite animal I figured I might as well take the opportunity afforded me, as you never know what else you might stumble upon in the process.  I told him I'd meet him 9am Friday morning to go check it out.

It was a beautiful sunny day morning as we drove about 8 minutes across town and pulled into the Lowe Corporation parking lot.  While not exactly revolting, what they do there is a bit unpleasant, and not related to the trout, so I'll spare you the details.  Anyway, we signed in at the security desk and then drove around the back to a small barn that housed the trout.  I was surprised by how small it was, even more so once I found out how many fish they have currently.

The black-board diagram showing the layout and number of fish

There are nine guys who take turns, one week each, taking care of the fish. During his week, each morning Allan feeds the fish in the three outside tanks (which house the larger ones), and then every other day he cleans out the pools. 

The water and the tanks are rather dirty, so I really couldn't see any of the fish, even after he threw in some food for them.  Ever obliging, he got out the net to catch one so I could get a close-up:

Inside the barn he changes out the filters for the water they use (it is gravity-fed into the shed from the lake behind it) since it originates up near Mt. Taranaki and the creek-bed isn't rock, but silt.  He also checks the inside troughs where they have the baby trout. Until they lose their little yolk sacs attached under their bellies, which they live off, they can't swim.   Once they start to swim around the guys transfer them into bigger troughs inside until they grow their top fin.  If I remember correctly they nick part of that top fin before putting them into the outside troughs, that way once they're released into the rivers or lakes you can tell they've been raised in captivity.

Allan was born and raised in Hawera, and although he lived in Australia for awhile in his 20's he's been here in Hawera ever since.  He volunteers on Wednesday mornings with the local Riding for the Disabled Club at the A&P Showgrounds, so he took me over to show me that as well.  A&P stands for Agricultural & Pastoral, so it's basically their Farmshow Grounds.  If it's nice next week I might take Sam for a walk over there on Wednesday morning to see everyone in action.  We went back to his house and his wife Ruth was home from her morning walk so we sat in their sun room enjoying a cup of coffee and chatting.  When asked if I come from a big family I mentioned that my Dad is one of nine kids and oddly enough, he and Ruth are both 1 of 9 as well (and they're both the 5th child in the family).  Ruth's daughter's partner is an American guy from Ohio, but she couldn't remember where in Ohio... Anyway, it was a nice way to spend a morning. 

Small Town Tourist

My class is over, the month is now August, I'll soon be departing...better get busy "tourist-ing"!  I've been here 2 months now and still not actually done all that much in terms of the "Hawera Must-Do" list.  But today it was sunny and I had books to pick up at the library and I decided that I might as well climb the water tower.  The water tower is the opposite corner from the library and I'd already found a parking spot on main street to boot.

Source

Originally called 'Te Hawera' by the Maori people many years ago, which means "the burnt place", after a rivalry in which one tribe surprised the other in the dead of night and burned the village to the ground ensuring there were no survivors.  When the European settlers arrived the fires didn't stop.  "In 1884 a hotel was razed, in 1888 a large fire destroyed five businesses, and in 1912 a particularly disastrous fire destroyed a large proportion of the main street area. This last event resulted in insurance companies demanding better fire fighting capacity for the town." The 168 foot water tower was finished in 1914 and a month later an earthquake caused it to lean considerably.  Fortunately, they were able to almost entirely correct it, now it only leans by about 3 inches.  I might have to go up again some other day when Mt. Taranaki isn't covered by clouds...

Milan Restaurant, the building in the right-hand corner,
has excellent Indian food!

Where I get my groceries :)

Other expeditions I've made since arriving include an unplanned visit to the Hollard Gardens in Kaponga.  I'd been attempting to visit Dawson Falls, but as I was getting ready to drive the last 6km, with Sam in the back of the car, I was deterred by this ill-fated sign:

Note that under "No Dogs" it says "not even in your car"

I gave a big sigh.  I stared at the sign.  I took a picture of the sign.  I turned to look at Sam, and said, "Thanks a lot!", and promptly did a U-Turn. I had taken a detour, to fill the gas tank in the town of Eltham on our way there, so I was acutely aware of the expense of this wasted trip (I paid $7.68 per gallon).  As the GPS directed me back to Hawera, I saw the sign for the gardens and decided I was already here, I should pop in for a visit.  It was small, but nice despite the winter season, and it was free.  

Passing through the tiny town of Manaia, the old post office just begged for its photo to be taken, so I had to stop.  Since I'd already gone to the effort to get out of the car to get a picture I decided to check out a couple of the shops in town as well.  I'd noticed the large factory, but the name didn't mean anything to me so I ignored it.  While chatting with the proprietor of one of the shops she asked if I'd visited the bakery.  I'd told her I had not, and that I wasn't even aware there was one.  She then informed me that Yarrows is quite well known in New Zealand and their baked goods are delicious.  Maybe my ill-fated trip wasn't so ill-fated after all?  According to their website they produce "a wide range of world-class frozen bakery products supplying major wholesale and foodservice customers in New Zealand, Australia and throughout much of Asia."  Since it was near closing time all the items in the shop were on sale, buy 2 get 1 free.  The croissant and danish were the best I have tasted in a very long time.  When I mentioned to the ladies at craft that I had been to the bakery they all had stories of stocking their freezers with bread and sweets from Yarrows...

As for Eltham, I'm not sure it has a claim to fame, but I did find this lovely mural...

Peaches & Peace

I'm at the point now where I'm back with feet in two worlds.  As when I was preparing to depart, I'm now thinking about preparing to go to one place and what I want to do before I leave another.  Not all big decisions, just something that's in the back of your mind all the time.  I bought my plane ticket home.  I've mostly planned my "summer vacation" to the South Pacific.  I'm making plans to return to work, etc.  People at church this morning (my first Sunday singing with the music team) were asking how much longer I'll be here in Hawera.  When Eileen, Val, and I were at the movies yesterday they were making plans for a Girls Night once Gill gets back and before I leave.  Eileen joked about tying elastic to my ankle so I come back.  All these lovely people who have let me into their lives and included me, they make it hard to leave.

Am I ready to go home?  That is often the question, either asked by others or asked by me.  For once I can almost say yes.  Note the use of the world 'almost'.  Perhaps it's those persistent commitment issues, and perhaps it's just knowing the plan was to return in September all along.  I'm once again doing my best to be content.  There are times when I'm quite ready to return, I do miss my family and the stability/normalcy of life in PA.  There are other times when I think of the remaining 6 months on my visa, that I'll never get back, and I think I should stay.  Although I have seen the majority of the country there are still other places I would still enjoy visiting.  My return to work also created some anxiety, so that wasn't helping the contentment about returning.

When I was trying to decide if I should come to New Zealand at all, one of the big things holding me back was that I actually really enjoyed my job.  Having worked at the same company, in a few different positions over the years, it was nice to have a position I liked.  Then, when they decided to let me take a sabbatical, there was the tantalizing thought that perhaps I could have both.  I could move to NZ and still have my position when I returned.  It was unlikely, but not out of the realm of possibility.  Alas, after many emails, some miscommunication between the big boss and my boss...I can't have my position back.  As much as my boss and I would both like for me to have it back, the various people who took different tasks from me when I left are doing just fine with them.  On the bright side, I'm still trying to convince myself to view it that way, there is a position open that they would like me to take.  I'm grateful to have a position, and perhaps I'll enjoy it just as much, or more than, the one I had in shipping before I left.

"Trusting as the moments fly, trusting as the days go by, trusting Him, whate’er befall, trusting Jesus, that is all...  Singing if my way be clear, praying if the path be drear... While He leads I cannot fall... Trusting Jesus, that is all"

War

You might recall my mentioning of Inge in one of my previous posts (we met at church).  Anyway, her and her husband host a discussion group at their house every other Monday night.  They discuss various topics of interest to the group; made up of young and old, believers (new and old) and non-believers, and various nationalities, it's a neat collection of people.  The first week they were discussing animals.  Animal abuse, grass-fed cows, what does the Bible say about animals, do they go to heaven?  The ultimate question ended up being, "how far does our responsibility of care extend?"  Although we didn't end up with a concrete answer to the question, it was an interesting topic.  At the end of the evening they consulted their list of topics and decided on "war" for the next discussion.  Yes, we should most likely have narrowed it down a bit beforehand, but we didn't.

Source

With no specific question we planned to try to answer, I had my own preconceptions on what we'd discuss.  In between my classwork I did some research into conscientious objectors, Biblical stances on war, Baptist theology on war, etc.  In high school I had done a research paper on Alvin York and could still remember bits and pieces of his story.  Although most people today would be more familiar with Desmond T. Doss thanks to the recent release "Hacksaw Ridge", the story of Alvin York is just as fascinating, at least to me.  You can watch his story on youtube if you'd like (I just finished it myself).  Because of some recent events at my home church I've also become quite interested in what it meant, historically, to be Baptist.  I'm not sure if it's because I'm in a British Commonwealth country, but when I was googling the baptist stance on war I got a lot of results from UK Baptists.  An article titled, "Responding to war and the refugee crisis" by the Baptist Union of Great Britain was excellent, and convicting as well.

The discussion that night didn't exactly meet my expectations, but it was interesting to hear from everyone.  I will admit that I'm curious how differently it would have turned out if I, the only American, had not been there.  Comments were definitely made about how we seem to always be getting involved in, or starting, wars.  Despite feeling as if I was holding back the discussion a bit with my presence, I enjoyed hearing from Matthew and Inge about what life was like in Zimbabwe before they left (due to the unrest and political climate) and how they had sometimes wished someone would have stepped in to help their country. My understanding from the Kiwis present is that NZ doesn't have any sort of conscription registration; if a war were to break out that required more people to fight than are already serving they would pass a law requiring those eligible to register.

To add more fuel to the fire in my brain, a few of the books I've read recently all seemed to have an aspect of war to them as well.  Shortly after I arrived in Hawera I read a novel that "shows us Angolan independence through the eyes of a woman who has barricaded herself into her apartment".  Although fiction, it gave me a look into a recent war of which I had no knowledge.  So much of what happens on the African continent seems ignored in much of the history of the day, but then there's a whole lot of history to be learned.

Last week I finished a memoir about a Canadian women who travels to Iran to learn how to cook Persian food.  It made me want to go to Iran, despite her depictions of her experiences as a female in that society; the few tastes I've had of Persian food, made by my Iranian friend Hossein, were delicious.  Yesterday I finished "Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet", recommended to me a few months ago by a friend.  It's the story of a young Chinese boy and a young Japanese girl who become friends despite the prejudices of the Chinese and Japanese against each other, and in turn, the nation's prejudice against the Japanese (China was on the side of the Allies during WWII).  I'm no stranger to the topic of the Japanese interments, but it was still a tough book to read, at least for me.  A dark day in our nation's history when Executive Order 9201 was signed allowing our government to "relocate" its own citizens based on their ancestry.  But this book really hit a nerve with its depictions of the reactions of not only the "white" Americans to the events, but even the Chinese people who felt it was "better them than us".  It's a strange dichotomy created by war.  With all the unrest in the Middle East and the refugee crisis, the distrust of Muslims, it all just makes me sad.  Sad that I don't do more about it...especially when you read an article like this one, about Christian immigrants.

Taranaki Antiques and Collectables

I wish I could blame my current inability to remember the topics on which I've already blogged on my current socialization with the over-65 crowd, but those who know me well know my memory problems were around long before my current friendship circle.  Part of the problem is the levels of communication.  I write occasional emails to my coworkers back home, I call home to my family once a week, post things on Facebook, and message people back home as well.  By the time all those things have happened I can't remember to whom, or when, I told certain things!

The auction on Sunday for the Hospice Shop was very enjoyable.  I arrived around 9:30am, as requested, but they didn't really have anything for me to do until the auction started.  Eileen had texted Saturday night that she wasn't sure if she was going to make it, she was feeling a bit under the weather.  But shortly after I arrived Val and Rita showed up!  I've met Rita at Val's various parties (she had an afternoon tea for her neighbor's birthday the other week and oh my goodness, she never does anything half-way; the foods were delicious), a few times now so it was fun to walk around the tables and check out the items up for auction with them.

There were some very cool things for sale and I could certainly have bought some things myself, but I don't have a lot of room in my suitcase so I didn't even get a number.  Some things went for just $10 and would have been cool mementos of my time here, but who needs more stuff? In the end I was busy the whole time anyway.

The lot of Maori Portraits by Lindauer (prints of his works, not originals)
were the highest bid items of the day, going for over $500.  I had thought
before the auction start that one of them might be a nice souvenir.
My Mom always said I have expensive tastes....

During the auction they had me on the "Vanna White" team, at least that's what I nicknamed us.  All the items were numbered and as each item went up for bid we were to hold it up so everyone could see the item currently on auction.  There were actually quite a few of us on the team, and although it didn't work out the way they explained beforehand that it should work out, we finally managed to get a system going.  Standing in front of a bunch of strangers holding up random items isn't exactly my environment to thrive, but the ladies kept me laughing through it all.    We would each get assigned lot numbers, and we just kept rotating through the line.  The ladies behind me got a kick of commenting that they were younger than me when we started getting assigned to the 70's and 80's numbers.  The event started at 11:30 and we got through the last item around 1:30.  We had such a large team because they didn't want anyone's arms to get tired, but most items weren't that large and were auctioned rather quickly.  Granted, that's the 29-year-old talking, not the opinion of the 78-year-old ladies with which I was working.  It was just nice to be part of a little community event, to be able to meet people that you can one day run into at the grocery store.  Yes, that may sound odd, but that's one of the ways I start to feel at home.  I still remember the first person I ran into at the grocery store while living in Cairns and feeling like I belonged, simply because I could have a quick chat with someone while shopping for eggs.


In other news, I got the car back today - looking good as new!  I'm quite thankful it was done in just 6 working days as the "courtesy car" they gave me didn't quite have enough room for Sam.  I had to be careful to make sure his tail was tucked in and he had his head over the seat before I closed the trunk.  Since he couldn't really move around in the back I had to leave him home when I would go out to craft, Monday discussion group, or volunteering at the shop - he was NOT appreciative.  Plus, I didn't have to pay the excess - just a $35 fee for the use of the courtesy car.  God is good.

P.S.  I did pass my Psychology class and did manage to keep my grade-point average.