The Napier Saga

So we left Auckland, content and prepared to find work. The journey to Napier was, in places, jaw-droppingly amazing - no wonder Kiwis say awesome so much, there are few better words to describe the stunning landscape of this country. We both failed miserably to read even a page of our books as we were so busy staring out of the window, open-mouthed, but the iPod was a godsend - we put on some excellent driving music and contented ourselves nudging each other whenever there was a view better than the previous one, or when we spotted an Australian Harrier circling above. Music was also a welcome distraction from the driver's voice. She was a very strange lady (and we had to look quite hard to determine she WAS a lady!) with a laidback sounding 'microphone' voice that irritated us immensely after a short time: 'now just sit back ladies and gentlemen and let me do the driving.' Let's hope so too!

One thing that did surprise us was the realisation that a country with a landscape as stunning as New Zealand could have such ugly architecture! The towns we passed through were terrible - made up of small, cheap-looking buildings that gave an impression of 'hick-town America' in style terms. I appreciate that coach routes may not pass through the best areas of town, but guys, you can do better! A notable exception to this is Napier, a small city in Hawke's Bay that was flattened in the 1931 earthquake and has been largely rebuilt (at least in the centre) in Art Deco style. It is quite hyped up for this reason though, and I'm not sure that it really justifies the hype, although for reasons that I'll explain below, we haven't yet seen it properly, nor in a calm state of mind, so we will definitely return at some point and have a better look.

We'd booked our first 2 nights accommodation at Wally's Backpackers - a hostel which had been highly rated in previous seasons, though is under new ownership. Having wandered around many of the other hostels in Napier, it is probably one of the nicest in terms of building and location, comprised of two 1920s style villas, set back from the road with a lovely outside area and fabulous kitchen. The problem is the owner - a red-faced Geordie who gives Englishmen a bad name and reminds me of the dodgy landlords I had whilst at University, or lived in University towns (with the notable exception of John at Upper Rock Gardens in Brighton who did have a kind heart - once you could get over him trying to have a conversation while swaying wildly, shopping bag full of bottles, with breath that could kill a small child!) But I digress, Wally (real name Ash, though the name of the Backpackers suits him better) was a complete, well, wally! Lots of things really niggled me, the promise of free internet, tea and coffee, which were no longer free, the blatant racism, and trying to be somebody he wasn't just to impress the kids. Something about him just didn't ring true, but sadly he came up with the best offer of work and a decent weekly rate (which went up by $40 the next morning), plus with Easter arriving shortly lots of Kiwis were booked into town and the Barmy Army was soon to arrive for the cricket - had we stayed we'd have been in a tent for a few nights, queuing for the toilets and showers - and most other places were already booked. So we stayed.

Our first day apple picking ended as soon as we arrived, because it rained (yes, in sunny Hawke's Bay) so we returned to town and spent the afternoon shopping for secondhand clothes, as it was evident from looking at the workers that clothes got very messy! And the next day we had our first and last day apple picking! What a total and utter nightmare! The ladders were difficult to move and get into the right position and the fruit was small - we managed one bin between us, a grand total of $33 to share! Now, to be fair to ourselves, the general opinion was that it was a bad time - the apples were coming to an end, on their second pick and people who had worked in previous years and filled 15 bins per day, were only doing 3, so we didn't feel quite so pathetic and feeble. The orchard owner even said that we wouldn't be able to make enough to cover our food and board, so we finished our bin, with a little help from our friends - mainly because there was no way of getting home without our lift - and called time! The bonus was that we did meet some fabulous characters. We were helped by a delightful Asian guy, plus Setu the Samoan both of whom helped fill our bin, out of pity I think, then we sat under a tree chatting, mostly to Melvin the Malaysian and Setu and his brother, who were trying to poach us for their gang to do packhouse work, in a very quiet underhand 'Glastonbury-drug-dealer' style! It was also quite humbling - we were working with a group of South Koreans who weren't picking loads more than us, but obviously the amount they can make is far more worthwhile than for us.

So we returned home, tired, determined never to set eyes upon an apple orchard again, but actually quite happy, returned to our room, filthy, smelly and desperate for a shower, only to find that Wally had moved all our stuff. He had mentioned that we would have to move as they needed our particular room, but I'd specifically asked if we needed to pack up before we left and he had assured us that there was no need until we got home. It was only the calm, restraining voice of my big sister, reminding me that if I flew at him we wouldn't have a bed for the night, which stopped me. I'd have decked the b******!

To Paradise

So while we'd decided to do some work before WWOOFing, we thought that due to the accommodation problems and work issues (apples are almost over, grapes not quite ready and often picked by machine which disappoints me enormously) we should look for a WWOOF for a couple of weeks and use our time to set up something afterwards. WWOOF is a fabulous invention, it stands for Willing Workers On Organic Farms. The deal is that you do 4-6 hours work per day on an organic farm of some description in return for food and accommodation. And we struck gold!

The next day we arrived at Beehive Gardens, a small (by NZ standards) lifestyle block outside Hastings, which is actually the heart of the Hawke's Bay wine region, and we arrived in Paradise. The place is owned by Alasdair and Jane, a British couple who live here with their children and his parents, who we've yet to meet, and it is stunning. So for the next couple of weeks Su and I will live in a tiny but perfect studio surrounded by gorgeous flowers and trees, and will spend our time working in a home orchard - apples, pears, plums, greengages, quince, etc, plus collecting nuts, weeding the veggie garden, mowing the grass, etc. They buy us food for breakfast and lunch (plus the very generous offer of helping ourselves to anything on the land, already picked, or in the freezer) and they bring us an evening meal. Last night we munched merrily on a simple but utterly delicious salad, mostly straight from the garden - salad leaves, basil, tomatoes, sprouting seeds, red onion, beetroot, avocado, walnuts, with some boiled eggs, feta and fish thrown in for good measure, eaten with corn-on-the-cob, again from the garden, and fresh home-baked bread. This was followed by the best night's sleep we've had since arriving, and today we've done our morning's work which consisted of collecting and moving wood and weeding the strawberries, and was completed while grinning like Cheshire cats! We wandered back to our studio, munching on picked strawberries and greengages - sweet as, no literally this time! I don't think I've ever been so happy working!

The absolute best thing for me was watching Su chuck about huge logs and bending over weeding strawberries with no ill effects whatsoever - what back injury? Ladies and Gentlemen - I hope you'll all raise a glass to that tonight! And the best bit for Su was driving the tractor (which was perfectly Su-sized, i.e. small!)

Is it legal to be this happy? (Or smug?)

Yours with love, the blissfully happy sisters! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx