it really is hot water!

It’s hot. It’s really hot. And I have spent the last three days at work, away from the sunny days and cursing the fact that it wasn’t this nice on my days off! The only chance I got to enjoy this amazing weather is when I walked the twenty five minutes to my bus stop or ran out with an order to a car. Neither of these, especially the later, allowed me to appreciate the sun fully, if at all! It has been so hot that even I, goddess of the sun hazard of burning, have chosen to find shade wherever possible in an attempt not to boil. I’m not so sure that the actual temperature is far above that of England in the summer (on a good day!), but the intensity of the sun and lack of Ozone layer here make a cloudless day impossibly warm. But now on my day off I can finally enjoy the weather and suddenly working to earn this day has payed off.

After a very busy evening at work in which I ran around for eight hours and then managed to mop the whole restaurant in ten minutes (I’m sure that’s a record and I have already celebrated that it is...even if it isn’t), I woke this morning after a long sleep feeling in a rather good mood although still a little exhausted. Getting back into work after a few months off has certainly been a shock for my body but mentally it’s great to be occupied again. I have become much better at my job already and can now run around like everyone else making as few mistakes as an ‘Amy’ possibly can. In one way this is a good thing because everyone has been able to stop checking on me and I even got thanked for helping out another new employee by showing them what to do. Not bad after only two weeks at the job! The down side to all this though is that I now have no excuse for not helping out on the rushes. Last week I would have been side tracked for getting involved and deemed to slow, but now this is not so. Had I any sense I would have stayed ‘rubbish’ for longer and allowed myself much less stress. It would appear though this is not my way.

So in my waking good mood I decided to put on a dress and get out of the house for the day. A ‘dress day’ is me making an effort. Ironing the dress before putting it on is me making an extraordinary effort! But today I thought ‘to hell with it I’ll see what all this freshly ironed feel is about’ and I ironed a dress to wear. For those that don’t know, Amy and an iron rarely, if ever, meet. It’s not that I don’t appreciate what an iron can do but more that if one hangs their clothes to dry correctly, very little creases appear, thus disposing of the need to go through the rigmarole of fighting with the ironing board, getting your fingers trapped as the legs finally spring down, tangling up the wire of the iron, doing ‘the iron dance’ as your legs, garment and wire get muddled, burning your upper arm on the upright idle iron as you twist around the shirt or whatever and then fighting the board once more as you try to disassemble it and cram it into whatever over crowded cupboard it came from. And don’t tell me I have it wrong...all ironing to me carries this woeful pantomime of needless effort when a simple correct hanging of clothes will suffice!

Anyway as I was saying, I decided to iron my dress. I took my time and ironed every crease I could find, even the small sleeves at the top. Feeling very proud that I had accomplished such a difficult task I hung my dress over the back of the sofa to stay straight while I had a wash. I’m not going to lie, putting on the ironed dress did give me a strange feeling of pride as I looked in the mirror! However, I was foolish to think that I was going to get away with being a lady for once. Less than an hour after the wonderfully ironed dress had been donned and I had swished it down the road to the bus stop, the universe regained its cruel, cruel balance. Needing money for my bus fare, I popped into the dairy to get some cash back. 

Now I should have just grabbed some mints as my purchase but no, I had to chose a Ribenna carton. Sitting in the bus shelter feeling extremely warm I eagerly untwisted the cap of the chilled Ribenna. Not realising I was squeezing the carton, I finally managed to remove the cap (why I was struggling so much to open a child’s drink is beyond me...), when to my absolute horror the damn this started spouting purple liquid at me...AND MY PERFECTLY IRONED DRESS! I tried to do the ‘push away dramatically’ maneuver with the carton but it was too late. As I looked down, I saw it. A big splosh was expanding at cell splitting pace towards the lower part of my dress. Dismayed, I didn’t even dare ‘dab’ for fear that I’d only make it worse. I hastily drank the rest of the Ribenna, which I didn’t enjoy because I was too annoyed, and then took up my post as ‘watcher of the stain and disappointment control officer’. How unfair life is.

* * *

For our next road trip Ollie and I decided to head to the Coramandle and the famous ‘Hot Water Beach’. The Coromandle is situated on the east coast, kind of opposite to Auckland but separated by a bay, so you have to drive south in order to travel round to it. We left on Sunday afternoon after work and enjoyed the drive over. We had been here once before when we all went to Whitianga (remember it’s a Ph!) for the weekend back in November. I had decided we should camp because it would save us money and I also wanted to make sure we used our tent as much as possible seeing as Ollie had carried it all this way.

Arriving at the holiday park, Ollie was immediately ‘tent conscious’ as we parked at our spot surrounded by large family tents and camper vans. Ollie complained that his was too small and that other people would laugh at it. I said that this was no time to worry about body image and that we should get on with putting up the tent! (Couldn’t resist sorry!) We could smell our tent before we could see it. Apparently the rain of South Carolina and the snow of Arizona had taken it’s toll on our little Vango and it stank of stale water. Even worse, there were small rings of mould dotted around the inner canvas. Not allowed to help erect the tent, I was in charge of arranging the pegs so Ollie could put them in. I tried to bang them with the hammer but Ollie deemed me a hazard and removed the tool from my grasp. 

I poked my head into the tent but it was impossible to breath. In the sun the stench had thickened. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to sleep in it after all and my inspired Impulse spraying had only worsened matters. Leaving the middle flap open while we went exploring was our only hope of exorcising the rot and rescuing us from a very smelly nights sleep. Ollie had been informed that low tide would be at midnight and that this would be the best time to dig a pool and find ‘hot water’. He’d also been told that if we took a certain path down to the beach then we might be in with a chance of seeing some glow worms. That kind of information might not excite some people but oddly enough Ollie and I were eager to see the worms! 

As it was only six o’clock we decided to take a walk to the beach to check it out before we went back later in the evening. As we walked along the shore and completely failed at dodging the waves, we joked that maybe ‘Hot Water Beach’ might not be all that it was supposed to be. Perhaps we would rename it ‘Tepid beach’ or ‘Mildly warm temperament beach’. The beach itself was pretty stunning though and definitely worth a visit even if the water failed to impress.

* * *

At half past ten Ollie woke me up and we headed towards the beach. I had taken a nap earlier on so that I would be wide awake for the ‘hot water’. I had felt bad abandoning Ollie for a few hours but apparently he had been fine and sat with some children in the T.V room and watched Ice Age 3! We took the ‘Glow Worm Trail’ and apart from it being extremely difficult to see in the dark and being attacked by jutting branches and spiky bushes we weren’t getting much worm action. Ollie was moaning at the lack of ‘glowing’ when suddenly I saw something in the mud bank. Three or four tiny pin pricks of white florescent light were dotted in the black, like stars in a cloudless sky. They were small and yet the bright light was so intense. Ollie and I were transfixed as our eyes adjusted and more little glows appeared. I tried to take a picture but the camera wasn’t good enough to capture the effect and I ended up with ten photos of nothing. But to see them was magic. A worm that glows. Weird aye!

* * *

Down on the beach we made our way between two out crops of rock where the underground reservoir was situated. To our disappointment a large coach load of travelers had already monopolized the situation and had started digging a giant pool in the best spot! The only parts left were the ones right by the waters edge and digging there was impossible due to the fact that every time you made a tiny bit of progress, a big wave would come and wash it all away! I dug my feet into the sand and got a shock. The ‘hot water’ was actually boiling! We couldn’t believe it! The sand was even warm to walk on in that part of the beach, and the water below amazingly hot. The beach certainly lived up to its name! Undeterred, Ollie spent a long time digging. Hole after hole was caved in by the sea but he wouldn’t give up. Unlike me, he wasn’t satisfied with just heating his feet. He wanted to get in it!

After a while though he gave up and joined me in warming his feet. It was such a strange sensation to have our feet heated in the sand and the cool sea lapping about our ankles. We sat down and shared a bottle of wine and some cider. Being on the beach at midnight was an awesome experience. Moonlight makes everything special . A thin veil of cloud blanketed the sky. Ollie told me he called it a ‘Mackerel sky’  because the clouds looked like fish scales. I liked that. ‘A Mackerel sky’ I mused as I lay back and let the scene sink in beneath my skin. This is why we came traveling.

* * *

I awoke to Ollie’s voice threatening to take down the tent with me still in it. It was nine, we had to be gone by ten and Ollie was bored of my sloth tendencies. It was as if it was fifteen years ago (I hate being able to say that) and Mum and Dad were making the very same threats as I refused to get up and help pack away our holiday in Cornwall. Only Ollie didn’t have an air bed to let down as encouragement...our travelers back packs don’t stretch to that! 

The day wasn’t the sunny one we had hoped for and our idea for a beachy relax would have to be re-planned. Ollie had spotted a Cafe sign the night before so we searched it out in hope of breakfast. And what a find it was! I don’t usually compliment Ollie on his finds (they usually involve fishing shops or old boats) but this one I was impressed by. Hidden away by bushes decorated with shell hangings and a woodland garden was a wonderful little cafe. We sat down outside with a coffee to wait for our orders. I had the most amazing blueberry pancakes that came complete with barbecued bananas and cream (oh my!) and Ollie had an awesome cooked breakfast. I had been craving pancakes ever since we left America so I was relieved to finally have them again, and they were sooo good! Afterwards we were both so full that I was quite glad I wasn’t heading to the beach. My belly certainly wouldn’t be ‘bikini fit’ after four pancakes! 

There is a coastal road that goes from the town of Coromandel, right round back to Auckland and it was this route that we decided to take. We started off by going across to the town through the heart of Coromandel forest. The road was more of a track that was windier than a piece of spaghetti but the scenery was immense! A river tumbled across boulders and rocks beneath us, carving its way between the lush greens of the densely covered hills. At one point we stopped to see a small waterfall that appeared out of nowhere. The rushing water in the silence of trees was a perfect sound. 

Coromandel wasn’t quite the place we had imagined so we didn’t stop but kept driving, onwards along the wonderful coast line. The sea meets the land in a great smash of blue and green. Thick forest gives way to rolling farmland hills and stoney beaches combine with calm sea. The dramatic landscape made time evaporate. We could have driven on the edge of such beauty for hours, never getting bored.

Eventually we reached the town of ‘Thames’. More Bognor than Greenwich, this seaside town looked as if it has been plucked from the American Gold Rush and plonked awkwardly in New Zealand. Again we didn’t stop. The only highlight of the town for me was the appallingly named ‘Paki Paki Bike Shop’ and the fact that it had a ‘Amy St’. Although it was nice of the people of Thames to name a street after me, If I could have chosen a town to have a street in, Thames wouldn’t have been it!

After that the landscape changed once more. Gone were the hills and forests and in their place vast flat lands of nothing much in particular. Soon we were back round the bay and without realising, heading fast towards more familiar place names. A highlight of this part of the journey was coming across the ‘Westpac’ helicopter (named after Westpac bank that sponsors it) performing a rescue mission at Maraetai beach. I don’t know what had happened but getting the chance to see the famous rescue ‘copter was ace! It’s always on T.V and we had got to see it in action, landing right in front of us!

The day was far from over but after five hours we had both had enough of the car. We parked in the city and spent the afternoon having a drink in the ‘Belgian Beer Cafe’, which Ollie was very excited about, and watching the highlights of the Super Bowl. We had a very posh dinner at a small restaurant on the viaduct and felt a little out of place. We hadn’t realised it would be so expensive and ordinarily it wouldn’t have mattered, but having spent the night in a tent and the day in a boiling car, we didn’t really look ‘posh meal’ material! The fish we had was excellent but their portion sizing was a little off for Ollie. He was still hungry when we’d finished! 

It had been a lovely couple of days and as always I didn’t want them to end. But with plenty of country yet to explore, I couldn’t wait to start planning our next trip.

10/2/12