jonasgoat

New Zealand

In Uncategorized on April 14, 2010 at 4:10 am

Beautiful land, beautiful peoples.

So many skin tones, Maori, Polynesian, oriental, Caucasian, it feels instantly multicultural, instantly familiar and welcoming. I feel at ease here, even though I still get looks. I’m starting to believe I’ll get looks wherever I go, I think I’ll always be other on my travels, apart from maybe the states, since most people I talk to seem to think I’m American apart from the Americans I speak to, and usually they are Canadian anyway. It’s like black people, to be more specific black males like myself who wear caps at a jaunty angle and t-shirts and trainers can come from nowhere apart from america. It’s like the black diaspora doesn’t exist. Maybe it’s just the overpowering influence of hip hop that makes it that way.

New Zealand has some truly beautiful people, maybe it’s the thick lustrous hair, or the sharply defined and arched eyebrows, big eyes, olive skin, but there is something about it and the way the people carry themselves that make them very attractive.

Been driving from Auckland to Wellington with a stop off in Rotorua. And the scenery here is breathtaking, and I haven’t even got to the west coast of the south island. The road dips and rises, following the curve of the landscape. A single lane which splits into two every so often to allow for overtaking, the countryside lining the road is many different shades of green, new Zealand seems so much more fertile and verdant than Australia. So much more eye catching. Admittedly I only drove to phillip island, but still. When the sun shines on the land it’s like I expect the pacific northwest to be, pretty shacks/wooden houses line the road, this feels like David lynch country, bucolic scenes of pretty treelined streets, but without the dark underbelly. It is actually too pretty for words, like the English countryside at it’s best but more muscular and exciting, less tamed and treated, more wild and untamed. Hills rise vigorously into dark grey clouds, tall trees line a long stretch of road, cows graze as the wind straightens the leaves on the branches, brave men dance on the pedals of their geared bikes as I sweep down the hill and they struggle up it. The peaks and troughs of the path I’m following cause me to try and capture them in my memory and failing that reach for the camera and attempt to take photos through the windscreen whilst making sure I don’t cross the rumble strip.

I curve round and through taupo lake and the blueness of the water and the bending palm trees beneath the weighty hand of the wind reminds me of Barbados and Sardinia, the crisp breeze, the low buildings, the single roads between one town and the next, giving you ample time to examine the beautiful views all around, the small beaches dotting the coast, for those who know.

New Zealand is by far the prettiest place I have ever been to.

The long white cloud after which it is named stretches across the horizon taking up the space between the ground and the sky, only a sliver of blue high above it. Amazingly solid, seeing it from afar it appears to be part of the hills it covers, the snowy peaks you realise are in fact cloud cover, white and pure.

Until the road lifts and heads through it, the desert road, a single route through nothingness, no wonder there is an army base here, it is utterly desolate, reminding me of the Scottish highlands, low shrubs dun and ochre in colour the odd flash and rustle of purple, breeze harsh and hard sweeping across the plain, imagine Daniel craig’s walk out of the Patagonia desert but under a murderous grey cloud that fills the view and shrubs underfoot rather than blood red rock and outcroppings. There is a viewing spot, I wonder who would want to stop and take a picture of such barreness, it saps the will just to look at, what must it be like to live there.

Even on the gps the state highway one (desert road) is a lone green road on a featureless grey background. Even as I am bludgeoned into visual submission by the greyness of cloud, the featurelessness of the place, following one vehicle after another I yearn for the greenness, the fecundity that I have seen before.

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