North Island - Time traveller's life

Watching Lord of the Rings - The Two Towers - a fitting backdrop to be typing this blog because
a) it is set against the beautiful landscapes of New Zealand
b) the première of the Hobbit is tomorrow in Wellington, at the Embassy Theatre - where I saw the new James Bond film this week
c) I can happily multi task whilst watching talking trees and fantastical ghouls. Not hugely my thing.
Every so often James calls out 'been there' which is simply not true but perhaps impresses or maybe annoys the various Europeans (Swiss, Dutch, Slovenian) in the TV lounge of this hostel in Picton, at the very north of South Island.

The last two weeks have certainly been an adventure in a way I was not expecting. After recovering from illness in Te Arora we headed west via the gold mining town of Waihi. There is a huge hole in the centre of town. A massive open cast gold mine which closed in the 50s and reopened in the 80s. A tonne of rock yields about 4 grams of gold but the gold is soon expected to run out and be changed into some kind of golden theme park probably including hobbits. We headed to the east coast with the warning that Lonely Planet had dubbed this section of road 'suicide highway'. Big lorries, no shoulder and blind corners were certainly a potentially dangerous combination. Many people had said that New Zealand was being perfect biking country though New Zealand drivers have yet to be informed of this.

We made it in one piece to a small town called Katikati, or as the Welsh might say Caci caci. We stopped at the only hostel in town. We should have known when we walked in and could hardly hear the voice of the young German guy because of loud Euro techno pop, that this was not the ideal place for a good night's sleep. Shortly after checking in the manager mentioned that there would be a sushi party that evening.

The hostel was teaming with 20 year old Germans. They had come to New Zealand on working visas for the year, many straight from school. They were all looking for work on nearby kiwi plantations which was hard to come by, particularly as the kiwi crops are being hit by a kiwi disease - PSA which has now spread to over half of New Zealand's kiwi orchards. It did make me wonder and worry a little about these young people. Someone in Germany has definitely worked hard to glamourise the fruit industry.

I had a shower. The door did not lock. No matter. Just as I was washing my hair the fire alarm went off. Choosing between my life and my dignity I obviously chose the latter. Coupled with my recent decision to buy a handkerchief sized travel towel there was little option. I decided to get fully dressed before evacuating anywhere. It was not a fire, just someone smoking in the wrong place.

All seemed well at the start of the evening. The Euro techno music was contained down stairs, we had a few beers, chatted to more blonde Germans and made a relatively early exit for a good night's sleep. I should have known that young people with their first chance of freedom, relaxed rules, large quantities of cheap beer was not the ideal combination. All was well until the speakers were moved. The volume was now similar to that in a night club. The lyrics of every song pounded through my pillow. 'Tonight's gonna be a good night..' It was so surreal I found myself giggling with inappropriate jokes about German sleep torture. It went on and on through til four something the next morning.

James kindly volunteered to negotiate our money back. Given that the manager was partying with the best of them I was not convinced but we did secure a small refund.

On to the hot and steamy town that is Rotorua. It was a tough 60 mile uphill to get there. Famous for its sulphurous pong, hot springs, geysers and bubbling mud pools, Rotorua is steeped in Maori legend. It was from here that my journey took an unexpected turn. An unlikely band of five of us all staying at the same hostel headed out on the town. Daniella, a Chilean born Swede, Lucy a Chinese girl from Hong Kong, Tef an Ethiopian New Yorker, James and me. A memorable night.

And so the journey continued. In Lake Taupo we arrived in the pouring rain and I was delighted to be greeted by a distinctly Welsh accent. The manager was from north Wales and her first language was Welsh. I did my best to practise the native tongue. The other chap on the desk was French speaking and I remarked how exciting it was that the two languages I spoke were spoken there. I added 'Though Welsh is a bit of a niche language'.

'Never' said the man sternly. 'Never refer to our language as niche. I am happier speaking Alsatian than I am any other language'.

I stood corrected. The history of the Maori language reminds me how right he was. Te Reo - the Maori language, though an official language of New Zealand it is not compulsory in schools unlike the Welsh language in Wales. In the 19th century English missionaries set up schools teaching the reading and writing of the Maori language which was essential to trade. However after an act of 1867 the government began funding only English schools and from the 1880s the language was banned in schools in line with an attempt to assimilate all Maori. This policy continued so that by 1960 only a quarter of the native people spoke Te Reo as their first language. This has now dwindled to 16% of people being fluent though more can understand it. An 1980s revival saw the launch of Maori radio and TV channels and increasing numbers of Maori schools. Unsurprisingly the Maori Language Act of 1987 drew on international precedence including the Welsh language Act of 1967 and recently teachers from New Zealand have visited Welsh schools to see bilingual education in action.

James and I cycled on. We crossed through Togariro National Park, skirting the volcano that would eject molten ash just a few days later. Timing is everything. It started to rain - heavily. We stopped after just 20 miles in a town at the bottom of Ruapehu, another volcano. Although it was so grey for our stay here we could never see it - even when we drove up to the snow line. We were looked after by Miriam and Dan. From the small village of Keithly in Yorkshire they were looking after the place in the owner's absence. Miriam had grown attached to the chickens and found 24 eggs hidden under a bush.

It was here my path changed. Tef, an American doctor working in New Zealand was flying south to explore the south of South Island for a few days. Taking an opportunity to discuss American health care policy with a democrat, I joined him wishing I had a few more tops in my pannier. I squished my bike into the back of the Toyota and left James to cycle the last 180 miles to Wellington unaided or rather without handicap.

Tef and I flew from Wellington to Dunedin with the snowy mountains of the south island visible from the small plane. Dunedin is a cross between San Fran and Edinburgh, boasting the steepest street in the world, Princes Street and cosy whisky serving pubs. We found a beach house on the sweeping sands of Curio Bay with the ocean on our door step. We saw dolphins playing in the surf, watched penguins shuffling down a nearby rocky beach, drove along spectacular coastline and drank local Pinot Noir with perfectly cooked steak and leeks. I had to get the leeks in. There are few times, probably no times, when I have felt more like Carrie Bradshaw or even Bridget Jones. You know the bit in the second book/film 'The Edge of Reason'? Now I understand the title.

It was in Rotorua that I also started reading Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman. A fantastic book rippled with great examples of psychological experiments that illustrate his idea that we as humans have two systems of thinking. The first system one is intuitive, the second, system two is more rational. He argues that we tend not to recognise our intuitive thinking but are more willing to recognise it in other people. Other people are the crazy ones. There was a certain irony to reading this book whilst I made seemingly rational decisions about ditching my bike (albeit briefly) and jumping on a plane. It was certainly this kind of thought that led me to cycling round then world.

I rejoined my cycling buddy James in Wellington. He had had some bad news about his mum who is ill. James will go home for Christmas and hopefully be able to rejoin me in February in Thailand. Love to him and his family.

We stayed with my friend Andy and his family in Wellington. I know Andy from my London swimming club - Cally Masters. He moved here almost two years ago and loves the outdoor opportunities that Welly offers but misses London friends. His children learn Te Reo at school and his sone Fin has developed an obsession with whales. Welly is a beautiful city with tree clad hills around a stunning bay. We enjoyed cycling round the coast, swimming in the sea, drinking too many flat whites in some great cafes with fantastic company.

There can be more connections on counter sides of the globe than with our own neighbours. Place and culture are not the only connection that makes people feel home. Time and timing are also important.

This all made me think about the importance of time in defining life. Or as science fiction writer Ray Cummings wrote in 1922, "Time is what keeps everything from happening at once". Now wouldnt that be interesting. As a history teacher time provides a structure to explain events and changes. So much is defined by a combination of place and time. As I go from hostel to hostel sometimes age feels important -like in KatiKati - and sometimes less so. There is no predestination in life, everything does not happen for a reason though after the event we can make stories fit the outcome - like the Maori legends. So many choices and random events collide to make life and yet as human beings we find it a more comforting explanation of our lives if we believe in the story. Part of the excitement of this year is its timing. Who knows how life might have been different had I not opted to begin this journey. I will never know. And who knows what is yet around the corner.

And so, as I continue south having said another goodbye, a small part of me still believes the idea that 'Everything happens for a reason' even though my rational thought knows damn well it doesn't.

It is just what it is.

Time to move on. Or as the Welsh would say - amser i symud mlan.

New Old Zealand

I started writing this blog whilst listening to 'Leo Sayer's Greatest Hits' - one of the 80 cassettes in the listening library at the Te Aroha hostel. 'Thunder in my heart' - a great song from 1977 (revived in 2006 by Meck) and 'You make me feel like dancing' were both slightly unusual but uplifting choices for a Sunday morning.

Te Aroha means 'The place of love'. We are paused here for two days as we have both been sick, James is bed-ridden.

Te Aroha made it to the tourist map because the railway stopped here. It has hot, soda springs and a beautiful setting. Once the railway went further however it was eclipsed by Rotorua and was suspended in time. Now of course this is part of its charm. A good place to have been forced to stop - even if it is by sickness.

The hostel was set up in the 1963. Literally 'set up' because the house was at the bottom of town and was relocated by the Youth Hostel Association to its position just under the impressive Te Aroha mountain. It is managed by Danny and Helen who live nearby and pour a lot of love into the place. There are books, leaflets, board games, cooking equipment, a spice rack - meticulously labelled, a guitar and no television or Wifi. It reminds me of Ystumtuen youth hostel close to Aberystwyth in mid-Wales where I spent a few days adventuring with my school friend Zoe some 18 years ago. It is the kind of place I didn't think existed any more. It is always unlocked and holds within it the memories of thousands of travellers who have captured their observations in the Guest Book.

We arrived in Aukland almost a week ago now. We were very lucky to stay in my friend Sally's apartment though unfortunately she was overseas. It was a good way to settle in. I put my bike together for the first time and changed a puncture. Putting tyres on is much harder than people claim - especially if you have very tough tyres. It requires great physical strength and looks easier with big manly fingers. I don't have very manly fingers.

In Aukland, we met up with Simon who we had met in Hawaii. Aukland is his home town but like many young New Zealanders he has decided to move to Australia. Similarly Heather who we stayed with in Hamilton and had cycled in Lau and all over New Zealand - both her children have moved to Australia. Ken and Tricia whose beautiful vineyard we stayed on and who have been on several long bike trips in Europe including from London to Rome - their daughter has moved to Australia. The man in the bike shop's daughter is in Stratford Upon Avon and the hard working folk who manage the youth hostel their daughter is in England. A pattern perhaps?

New Zealand population is still growing but at a slower rate than ever. 53,900 New Zealanders emigrated this year and with only 14,000 returning . New Zealand has always relied on immigration. Calling itself the youngest country on earth, New Zealand was late to be settled by Polynesians in the 1200s. European settlement began in the 18th century. People of European decent now make up 62% of the population (interestingly down from 92% in 1962). 15% of people are Maori and 9% Chinese. Half the population of New Zealand lives in Aukland. You can see why so many people came from the UK. The place really does look like home.

We stopped for a chicken sandwich (possibly the cause of the sickness) in Rangiriri. Here was the site of the battle in 1863 where united Maori tribes lost to the British. This marked the colonial domination of New Zealand. These land wars were also the reason that many Maoris from the Waikato region in particular, refused to fight in the First World War - a white man's war. In 1995 Queen Elizabeth signed the bill apologising for taking Maori land. New Zealand however has the feel of a country that is closer to being at ease with its complex colonial, difficult past - more so than America. The Maori tradition is strong and pervasive - on the surface at least.

The main draw to Australia and overseas for New Zealanders seems to be wages and opportunities. The recession has hit New Zealand harder than Australia. In fact the government asked people to give suggestions to kick start the economy and one suggestion that was accepted was a long distance cycle path from north to south. Great idea when it finally takes shape. Young people are also looking for more going on. Whatever 'going on' means. Simon described it well. 'It's busy on a weekend but if you want to go out on a Wednesday there just aren't many options.' New Zealand's population is also ageing with the biggest increase in the over 80s.

This emigration problem is also an interesting contrast to those who fear there are too many of us in the world. People want to live near people. Humans are natural group seekers. Cities, despite their grit, draw people - especially young people. As a world we just need to make sure that this growth is not at the expense of the environment or people in poorer parts of the world.

Oddly enough Leo Sayer was also drawn to Australia becoming a naturalised citizen in 2009. On reasons for emigrating Sayer said '"I'm 60 and I feel like a 20-year-old in my life here because everybody is so encouraging to keep working." Those in the UK reading this may feel they can live without Leo Sayer feeling 20.

The grass is always greener. Is it? Does home look more like eternal happiness when you are away? Does the warmer climate of Australia, the better job prospects and the cultural mix make for a happier life? Do the bright sands of Hawaii look more like paradise from the dark mornings of November? I know that when I am home and back into the routines of school, washing, weekends, wine and coffee I will look back on this year with a smile. The trick surely has to be then to be content in the present. It is also good to appreciate your own green grass and to know that it is either just as green or that it couldn't be green without the rain.

I have noticed there are more quotes around than there used to be. You know the kind I mean, the posters made just of a sentence. Perhaps it is a void left by religion. As human beings we need meaning and optimism.

Two examples that have recently caught my eye..

'Life is easy when you look back at it. Even easier when you look forward to it.'

And from then film The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, 'It will all be alright in the end. And if it's not alright, it's not the end'.

Time to head for a swim in the hot pools that made Te Aroha so famous. Today being well, giving the legs a break is more than enough to be content in the now.