riverECHO

I know this sounds a bit morbid, but on my dad and Fran’s last day in Queenstown we spent the better part of the morning googling “When will I die?” Fran had been amazed at BJ’s ability to simply ask Google a question and find an answer, so she tried to come up with a really difficult question (and one she thought very useful). After two hours, we had submitted answers on questionnaires on a few different websites and learned that both Fran and I, simply because we are women who do not smoke, will probably live to be about 100. BJ and my dad, because of their family history and simply because they are men, are going to leave us, the two women in the room, lonely during our final years. We were able to find quite a bit of humor in our fortunes as Fran, who is usually on one sort of diet or another and who was appalled at the idea of living to 100 years, found that if she actually gained a few pounds would die earlier.

Once we were satisfied (or unsatisfied) with our fortunes, as told by Google, we ventured out into another rainy day for a brief wine tour of Gibbston Valley. Since it was Sunday, Mount Edward’s Winery was closed so we settled for a cheese and wine sampler at Gibbston Valley Wines. BJ and I practiced our wine tasting skills and all agreed that we needed some coffee to turn around our late afternoon sleepy wine heads. We headed into downtown Queenstown for some cappuccinos and a movie . . . Slumdog Millionaire. It was by far (and I’m sure I’ve said this before but this time I mean it) the best movie I have seen this year. The cinematography was brilliant, in both color and style. It moved so quickly, jumping from scene to scene, that it almost gave me the feeling of being in India. It was a really creative way to share a story about Indian life in the slums.

After the movie, we spent a “Last Night in Queenstown” dinner at the Fishbone where we continued to laugh about certain scenes from the movie and reminisced with my dad and Fran about their entire trip. They saw the most of New Zealand you could possible see in a month’s time and loved every minute of it. I felt like our time together flew by. We were busy bouncing to the West Coast and to Milford Sound, but had an unexpected blessing with a chunk of rainy days in the end where we could all relax together in Queenstown. I think they truly enjoyed a bit of time to relax while they were on vacation.

We dropped my dad and Fran off at the bus station yesterday morning so they could bus back to Christchurch before flying back to San Francisco and joined Ali and Steve last night for yet another movie . . . The World’s Fastest Indian, a great film about a kiwi whose love for going fast on his Indian motorcycle takes him from Invercargill, New Zealand to the salt flats of Utah. Something about Anthony Hopkins’ character reminded me immediately of my dad, whether it was his love for engines, his white hair, or his mannerisms. After the movie and before going to bed I had a sudden wave of missing my dad and I burst into tears. Despite spending the last week and a half with him, I feel like we never truly had a chance to catch up and I had this regretful feeling that if we continue on with our travels, I may not see him for a long time. While they were here, we had briefly discussed meeting up again with them . . . and maybe even in India. So Dad, we’ll just have to make it happen!

By now I would assume most of the world is aware of the fires that have been engulfing Australia, the largest fires in their history, having killed 130 people! Yesterday we experienced their magnitude when we woke up to an orange haze, the haze that back home I associate with a fire. It had us perplexed for a while as we tried to think of what was west of us . . . mountains covered in rainforest, the rainiest place in New Zealand, and the ocean. It was hard to imagine a fire taking place in any of these very wet places. But across the ocean a ways . . . Australia . . . of course.

The eerie apocalyptic sky set the tone for the day for us. Our plans for a big bike ride turned into a morning of drinking lots of coffee, cooking a huge breakfast (eggs, bacon, mushrooms, and onion covered in puff pastry), and reading on the couch. BJ’s quote of the day, which almost won as the title of this blog: “I love drinking coffee and doing nothing.” That pretty much sums it up. We finally dragged ourselves out of the house, went on a 30 minute bike ride, half of which was up a paved road near Coronet Peak, and then drove to Arrowtown to spend a couple hours reading and napping in a park under a tree under an orange sky, followed by our classic kiwi date . . . dinner and a mooooovie. This time, however, we didn’t watch the typical blockbuster. Waltz with Bashir, an animated portrayal of an Israeli soldier’s memory (or loss of memory) of the Lebanon War in the early 1980s, is one of the most unique and powerful films I have seen. Based on the dreamlike memories that he has, and those that he discovers through interviews of fellow soldiers, it seems only fitting that the film would be animated. We quickly drove home to look up a map and details on the war.

The orange skies had moved on from Queenstown today and we woke up with a bit more energy. We still spent a little time with coffee, breakfast, and books on the couch, but sooner than later got antsy and headed out to a place called Moke Lake for a bike ride. Despite the encroaching dark rain clouds, we set out anyways along a dirt road that wrapped around the backside of Ben Lomond Peak, which shadows Queenstown. The road eventually meets up with singletrack along the Moonlight Track. We had some hellish climbs and fast descents along the road but were clearly enjoying worrying the sheep, the lack of people, the historic feeling of riding along an old mining road, and the incredible views over the valley that dropped off from the road. On our way back to the car, BJ got an idea in his head (or maybe his belly) of a Fergburger, a famous burger joint in downtown Queenstown that we had yet to experience. I pictured Homer (BJ) sleepwalking (riding a bike) to the fridge (Queenstown) with a thought bubble of beer (big juicy burger) above his head. We tried the burger kiwi style by asking for a topping of sliced beets and, of course, a side of chips (fries). It was a delicious Monday afternoon in New Zealand.

It didn’t take long after our evening riding the downhill trails on Coronet Peak for BJ to find and bid on two mountain bikes on the Kiwi version of ebay. They have yet to arrive and we are very excited to start riding but, in the end, what may hold us up is the delivery of a box marked “Bike” that BJ’s mom just took to the post office in Victor. We left three ready-to-ship boxes in our closet at home, each marked appropriately . . . Bike, Ski, Climb. The big items like bikes and skis obviously didn’t fit very well in the boxes so we decided before we left that we would buy and then sell those items down here.

We spent another evening, with a movie at the Dorothy Brown’s cinema and dinner at a restaurant called The Stables, in Arrowtown on Tuesday. We just can’t seem to get enough of that place. The one detail we noticed this week while sitting in our enormous reclining theatre seats with a glass of wine and cheeseboard in hand, was that we were surrounded by more-than-double-by-age women. There’s just no classy way of saying it . . . middle-aged. But it was the realization that we were there enjoying the film with them that actually made us laugh. The film was Vicky Cristina Barcelona, a Woody Allen film that I thought had a somewhat disappointing ending until, over dinner, BJ pointed out the message about passion that it was trying to convey. I won’t spoil it for you.

On another note, yesterday my Aunt Kate sent me a link to a job she thought I should apply for . . . The Best Job in the World . . . which thoroughly distracted me for most of the day. If you are unemployed (actually even if you are employed), and looking for some quality time writing on the beach, this would be a great opportunity. I think the job requirements say “must be willing to snorkel, sail, or kayak as needed.” I know . . . really demanding.

It is very bazaar spending the week before Christmas in a place where the days are sunny, warm and light until after 10pm. This year we won’t be anticipating a white Christmas, seeing family, wrapping gifts, or eating hoards of food for days on end. Our roommate Ali decorated a small Christmas tree las t week but it actually surprises me every time I look at it. It doesn’t feel like Christmas at all. I feel spoiled that we were able to spend so much time with family and friends this year before we left and we’ll miss our annual visits to Buhl, Boise, Tempe, Sonoma, and San Francisco (where the rest of our family will be over the holiday). But we look forward to all of our visitors this coming spring…my dad and Fran in February, my mom and Steve in March, and BJ’s mom in April. This year we will be spending the holiday camping near the Milford Sound and on the Routeburn track with Brad and Gretchen. Instead of packing up gifts, we’ll be packing trail mix, chocolate bars, and freeze dried dinners.

We’ve been enjoying the late light nights in Queenstown, but last night we spent those light evening hours in two very dark places. We hopped in the car at 5pm and drove to Arrowtown, a funky little town about 10 minutes from Queenstown. After a short walk along a lupine-lined river’s edge we moseyed to the far corner of an underground bar we took note of a few days before. The bar, more like a wine cellar, served food from a neighboring restaurant and local beer and wine. The walls were finished with rough stone and mortar and lined with long stone benches covered with rugs and pillows. The décor included heavy leather chairs, overturned wine barrels as tables, and just enough candle light to notice the cobwebs in the corners. We ate a delicious lamb, mushroom, and blue cheese pizza and wet our palates with Montieth’s beer.

After dinner we ordered two coffees from the corner bakery and walked upstairs to the cinema where we had tickets to the evening showing of an indy film called “The Visitor.” The lobby of the cinema is part bookstore, part café, part wine bar. We’ll probably just come back to hang out in the lobby if nothing is playing. We were ushered into “the den” with one other person and had our selection of a huge velour sofa and a handful of comfy chairs. Worried we may fall asleep if we snuggled up on the couch, we chose two chairs in the front row. By the time we left the cinema the sun had set but the sky was still light. For those of you who are coming to visit us, I am sure we will be returning to the cinema in Arrowtown.