Star Trek toilets in a one street village

In Mangawhai village (pronounce Mangafai), there are public toilets. Electronic button-pressing pods, of the stressful kind when I never know whether I am safely locked in or will be released at all. Now, these are squeaky clean. A stewardess voice rises to welcome me, to assure me it is locked and that I have 5 minutes, ready or not. A soft musak (Come on! Really...) surrounds me and when the door whirrs open, I am surprised not to have been transported onto another planet.

This being said, flight travel has that beam-me-up-Scotty effect... The body has landed but the mind plays catch up. For the new reality to sink in, I try to visualise the map of the world. It doesn't work.

Starship Enterprise would have been an improvement over the cheap airline I have chosen for flying to New Zealand. After a long wait for checking in at Sydney's international airport, I am told my flight is cancelled and am redirected to another desk. I queue. I fidget. I wonder where the hell are my travel insurance papers. But all is well : I am transferred onto another flight, no extra cost, phew, and here is a $10 voucher for breakfast. Thank you. Reassured, I scuttle off to another queue. I stand. I wait. I am informed the flight is full. I rush back to the previous desk. I queue. Who told you that? No! No worries, there are still a few seats available, better hurry back, though. I run. I queue. Incredibly, I check in. Desk yoyo. Hours of fun.

Any airline would have been un upgrade on the one I have chosen but relief and joy are short-lived as I shuffle for another hour in the customs queue at Auckland airport. We wouldn't want any nasties to  enter these beautiful islands, now would we... Too right! I learn that possums, for instance, indigenous to Australia and a protected species, are the most damaging animal pest here.

My original idea had been to stay for three months in Australia. That's until I received a message from my friend Carla, in Northland. She was going with her partner Alistair on a vintage car Tiki Tour and needed someone to house and dog sit for them. I would stay in a rustic cottage, surrounded by lush greenery, down a (steep) drive, 15 minutes from a stunning coast. Was I interested. Erm... Let me think... A chance to reconnect with my friend, to enjoy peace and quiet to write and ponder, to not be a tourist but share, for a while, the life of a   community... 

OK! Change of plan!
The first few days were spent in an easy-paced flurry... negotiate the van up the drive, find my way around the area, work the generator to use the washing machine, locate the best dog-walking spots, health food shop, yoga and Qi Gong classes .. Carla took great care in showing me the nicest cafés, lined up a picnic and a concert for me and introduced me to friends so I wouldn't mope in the cottage on my own lonesome. She is also a celebrant. A Kiwi-Maori couple and their three children kindly included me in the barefoot wedding ceremony Carla was conducting, on the beach, under a tree, between showers, with the surf crashing in the background. Followed by a tailgate picnic of sandwiches and nibbles. A very moving moment in its simplicity. 

I had another opportunity to think about rituals and how they give meaning, rhythm and focus to our lives and to the world around us. Tow days after I landed, Carla led a Brazilian Yemanja celebration on Mangawhai beach. We had our bathing suits, white, blue or green robes, brought flowers, music (I had a guitar kindly lent by Mangawhai's guitar teacher), stories and poems to tell and food to share. It was a unique way to meet a group of lovely local ladies and to give offerings of flowers from the land to the goddess of the sea. Within a couple of days, Yemanja had taken them all into her depths and none was left by the surf. She had accepted our gifts.

The seas need all the protection we can give them, spiritual or otherwise. One evening, Alistair told a story. He had been on the Rainbow Warrior 20 minutes before it was bombed. He talked of the long deep swell of the Pacific ocean when he sailed with friends to French Polynesia to protest against nuclear testing.
For the last 5 years, he's been rebuilding a Talbot and for the last 2, preparing a rally for the Talbot owners association. A bunch of car nuts (most of them English) in fantastic contraptions was flocking to Auckland. The reason for my dog-sitting presence. As the starting date loomed nearer and he was still sorting mechanical problems, I was offered to share the first three days of the tour with Carla and explore Northland in a bright red Morris minor. Now, we felt very glam with our scarves and shades, eliciting comments on the way, "Hey girls (girls!!), looking great!". Tourism in style.


In Paihia, we hopped on a "dolphin discovery" boat trip and quickly located a big school of adults with little ones. We were told young dolphins need to eat very often to maintain their body temperature. Were we to swim with them, they would just want to play and forget to feed. So, we admired them from the deck.  A small hammerhead shark slithered under the hull as we left. The Bay of Islands Swordfish Club in Russel, dating back to 1910, served us a fantastic buffet with appetising seaa-food. My new decision to become a vegan was short-lived.

We visited Butler Point whaling museum, feeling quite sick at what we did (and continue to do) to animals. And yes, I can see the paradox with my sea-food comment. Back to a vegan diet. By the lapping waters of Mangonui harbour, an old settler home and garden, still in use now and open to the public, transported us back to the reality of early immigrant life in Northland. We spent the night in Omapere, at the mouth of Hokianga harbour, on the west coast, so much more rugged than the east. I could see the waves crashing on the shoals at the entrance to the estuary... On our way back to Mangawhai, we paid tribute to a 3000 year old kauri tree in Waipoua native forest. Tane Mahuta, "Lord of the Forest" is said to be the 4th biggest tree in the world. Well, it left me in awe... There were bigger kauri trees that were felled in the past. A land of giants...

Carla and I left the main roads and rattled back east on a series of gravel roads twisting and turning up and down and releasing clouds of dust. It made for some really concentrated driving from Carla and some complicated map reading from me. We felt lost in the middle of nowhere. Desperate for some relief from the beating sun we skinny dipped in a river snaking through a valley before reconnecting with asphalt and "civilisation".


I am now sitting at the garden table. The rattle of cicadas talk of high summer. Birds chirp, hens peck,  Lola (a fluffy and good-natured Italian truffle dog) sleeps in the shade, a cool breeze teases the parasol and I reflect what an interesting balance New Zealand has achieved, between wilderness and modern conveniences. The Anglo-Saxon drive mixes well with the laid-back Maori culture. Maori is compulsory for all children in primary school and all learn the old legends of the first Polynesian settlers. I find here an easy-going welcome, a no-fuss friendliness, a natural solidarity, a can-do attitude. Even without the rose-tinted glasses of a first-time visitor, I can see New Zealand is efficiently administered, with a duty of care for the natural world. It also helps that it is sparsely populated with 4.5 million people, distributed along 2000 km (1300 miles) of country.




It isn't immune from global warming : bush fires have been raging in Nelson, in the north of south island and people depending on rain water tanks in Northland see their supply dwindling.  The ozone layer is quite thin over this part of the world. One quickly feels the sting of the sun.