The Devonport Folk Music Club

Before one of my program leaders, Jeff, left to go back to the states a few weeks ago he handed me a flyer for The Devonport Music Hall and urged me to take the trip out there to scope the place out. After seeing me lug around my ukulele Jeff had some idea of what I was into and after reading about their weekly ukulele jams I decided to give it a shot. Monday night after class the girls and I took the ferry out to Devonport in an attempt to locate it. After staring at google maps for a few minutes, we realize that this place is NOT on the map, nor does it have any type of address, in fact when putting the name of the venue in the search bar it came up with this:

With a crude idea of where we were going we wandered around Devonport until we found Mount Victoria. We walked around the base of the mountain with no luck. As the sun started to go down we decided that we might as well climb Mount Victoria just in case the map was right. We made it to the summit, looked around and got some beautiful shots of the city at sun down but didn't find any trace of a music venue. No parking lots, no music from afar, nothing. We continued to explore Mount Victoria, finding an old for and a radar station but no sign of the hall. After giving up on finding it and needing to pee badly after an hour, we began to look for some sort of bathroom. I walk around aimlessly on the summit and see a small shack attached to the side of the mountain. I ask Navah to investigate.
Painted mushrooms atop Mount Victoria

"The Devonport Folk Music Club" she says
"What? Stop fucking with us, is it a bathroom or not"
"No, It says the Devonport Folk Music Club."

I jump down from where I'm standing and low and behold, there it was, nuzzled into the side of the mountain almost completely underground. Roger, the owner, was standing in the doorway with a long white beard and after convincing him that we were in fact not lost and did intend to find the place he welcomed us in. After asking him about how the music was tonight, he shrugged his shoulders and pointed towards the door.

Opening the door revealed a scene out of my fucking dreams. There were people in their early 50's 60's and 70's sitting around, drinking beer and playing folk music. The lights were dimmed, antiques hanging on the walls and the faint smells of beer and tea radiating from the floor. Had i died and gone to heaven? Lord knows things couldn't get better. We took our seats in the back and watched Roger introduce each act, making dry comments about their talent's quality and listening to the barrage of witty comebacks that these old friends had derived over the years. The music itself was wonderful. Puts the all the hoots in Boston attics I've ever been to to complete shame. Their knowledge of old Irish, Scottish, and British folk tunes floored me not to mention just how good they were at doing it. The banter between songs was hysterical and it was apparent that these people have known each other, been playing with each other, and have been drinking together in this bunker for decades.
We spent the night stomping our feet, harmonizing where we could, and getting to know the friendly people sitting around us. One couple from Ireland were quite intrigued by us American girls and made us promise to come back the next week. The girls and I ended up buying memberships to the venue, for 10 NZ bucks we get discount admission, access to their incredible folk music library and get this, membership cards. With the threat of missing the last ferry back into Auckland, the girls and I said our goodbyes to the people and the place. We spent the ferry back talking to on of the younger performers who was staying in Auckland for a while after graduating from school in Ireland. It was good to know that there are young people here that enjoy this stuff too.

I've spent a few weeks here in New Zealand already and ill say that I didn't really know if this place was for me. True, it's beautiful, and true, it's summer, but I needed a little more out of this country to make it feel more like it was mine. Discovering The Bunker was what I needed. It planted me right were I wanted to be and for the first time since I've gotten here I finally began to think of this place less as a place and more as home.

Thursday marked the first day of classes at the UofA. In our New Zealand society class, we started talking about the idea of New Zealand’s identity, what shapes it as a country and what it is about his place that makes it so unique. New Zealanders relish in the islands remoteness, their lax attitudes and their ability to not take things too seriously. We learned a bit about the geography or the island, it’s history and basically that there is serious gigantism, the land is split by a huge geothermic chasm and that there were eagles with 15 meter wing spans. Basically, this is the weirdest place in the world.
Today we had our first program “field trip”. It was a bus tour of Auckland and all of its surrounding glory. To be honest, I was mostly excited about the promise of a stop at the beach during the trip. In true Julia fashion, I was awake and ready to go, but waited at the wrong entrance to the Uniloge for the bus to pick us up. My prepaid phone has a tendency to turn off every once and a while for long periods of time, and its saw it fit to turn off during this hour. After waiting about 30 min for my group to show up, I realized that something was off, I quickly ran upstairs to my room to check and see if my times and location were right and of course, I was 30 min late, and on the wrong side of the building. After 20 minutes of FREAKING OUT my phone finally turned on and beraided me with text after text from friends on the program saying “GET OUTSIDE WE’RE LEAVING”. I call one of my friends and the program leader advised me to get a taxi to Mount Eden, which is about 4 miles away from where I was.
Seeing as how I had NO New Zealand currency and taxis never pass by our complex I started a mad dash down Anzac Street. I ran wildly in my flip-flops, alone and sweating, clutching my camera damning my inability to check emails and genuinely be on time for ANYTHING. I was a mess. After a solid 10 minutes of running, I found a currency exchange threw my 40 us dollars at her, received 45 NZ dollars (TOTALLY RIPPED OFF) and jaywalked the streets until I found a taxi. I climb in the front seat, something that I’ve NEVER done with a taxi, or that’s not encouraged in America at least, and we were off. Marlon, My driver asked me a barrage of questions about where I was from and how long I was here, and why I was so sweaty but he kept me entertained, rooted for me the whole way there and made some of the best cabbie small talk I’d ever had. At one point he advised me to pretend as if I was driving to get some experience for driving on the left side of the road. He dropped me off at the summit of Mount Eden, made sure I met up with my group and wished me well. Thank you for that Marlon. My group was happy to see me, and I was too. Mount Eden was absolutely beautiful. It is an old inactive volcano turned park with gorgeous views of the city and surrounding land. After talking a bit with Joe from GOOT, we all got on our bus to go to our second destination.
The roads to the Cascade Kauri Park were so narrow and overgrown, I felt as though we could have died at any point, but our driver knew his shit. We parked and walked around the reservation. This park was AMAZING. The trees, the plants, everything was HUGE. I wasn’t in Jurassic park, I WAS JARASSIC PARK. We hiked for a while and I wondered allowed about why it was advised that we wear flip-flops to this whole excursion. I kept falling behind the group, taking pictures and just marveling in how beautiful this place really is.

From there we went to Lake Wainamu . There were quite a few colorful people, and cars peppered around the entrance so I was expecting a busy place. Joe took us down a trail of hot black volcanic sand for a few minutes, made us all hop a fence, and lead us up to what looked like it was the beach of the lake. After emerging from the trail I realized how wrong I was. There before us like a huge lake bed, filled with not water, but MOLTON HOT BLACK VOLCANIC SAND. I look down at my feet and wonder WHY I had worn flip-flops this day and WHY Joe wasn’t in as much pain as us poor sorry soles (PUN ALERT). In any event he pushed us forward, ONWARD INTO THE SAND PIT. With each step my feet sunk into the excruciatingly hot sand, which was almost manageable until it would make is way underneath my feet, leaving the burning hot sand between my whiny baby uncalloused feet and my cheap four dollar Old Navy Flip-flops. What I would have done for a pair of socks, or ice cubes. We made our way up a large dune and I prayed to see water over the ridge. Once again I was let down, there was at least another mile of hot sand between myself and anything that resembled lush green salvation. So we walked on, wind blowing, sand and hair flying, feet burning and mouths dry for what seemed like an eternity. I stared at my feet as the carefully walked over the sand but quickly became mesmerized by the sparkly bits and entered some sort of state of delirium singing the Disney version of “Arabian nights” to keep morale with my fellow ladies in pain.
After about a mile and a half of walking in the sand we finally reached the lake. It was situated down a 12 foot drop of sand but that didn’t seem to stop any of the locals from swimming. Next to where we put our things, a group of 7 or so kiwi boys had set up a sort of plastic bag slide going down the embankment. They lathered it with soap and spent their whole day, running jumping, drinking and catcalling. What a life. Basically, after walking all that was in the sand, I wasn’t going to let a silly little 12 foot embankment keep my poor dogs from reaching sweet sweet relief, so I kicked of my shoes and clothes and ran down into the lake. We all swam for a while, the kids in the program made me do synchronized swimming tricks and we gathered our things and left. We continued to walk on the Satan sand, up along the embankment and looked down at the small stream that lay below it. Joe, deciding that he no longer wanted to be in the sand began RUNNING DOWN THE EMBANKMENT. The dune’s height had grown significantly since the lake and now was about 200 ft long at about a 70 to 75 degree angle. One by one we all follow him. I clutch my bag and run for dear life with my feet sinking ankle deep into the sand. From the bottom, we carried on through the stream and back to the bus.
From there we headed to Bethells Beach, we had little time to enjoy it but the scenery was breath taking. At each end of the shore, there were huge volcanic rock formations that gated in the black sand beach. The surf was rough and the rip current strong and made Misquamicut in Rhode Island during a thunderstorm look like nothing. We took pictures, swam and investigated caves before heading to our last destination of the day, Coopers Creek Winery.
We had a wine tasting at the corner creek vineyard. Our group walked in, were all given small little whine glasses and were essentially SCHOOLED by a small Italian woman about all the different types of wine that New Zealand had to offer. Prior to the wine tasting, a handful of girls and I took our shorts off over our swimsuits to have our first wine tasting, but pantsless. Now I know that I will go to more wine tastings in my life, but how many times will I have the opportunity to have it socially acceptable to be pants-less while doing it? Not many. Point: When in Rome, do as the village idiot, it makes for better stories. After getting thoroughly tipsy we jumped on the bus to get back home.
Up until this day I was having a hard time trying to get motivated enough to begin to plan traveling out of the city to see the county. From Auckland, the rugged terrain of the surrounding mountains looks softened by the city’s clouds. They begin to look so far away, a hassle, something that can wait. But after today, I realize it can’t wait. If I am to see this beautiful country I need to be exploring on ever ounce of free time that I have. This trip really lit a fire under my butt about getting out there and pushing myself to do the things I never thought I would have the energy, will or stamina to do. I am officially enthralled to see this place, its people, and its culture and to gain a little bit of a window into what it is about this place that is so intoxicating.

I made it!

After 2 days of pirating Internet from various stores in Auckland, I have Finally purchased a "T-stick" which is a type of wireless broadband Internet. Supposedly, it covers 97% of New Zealand but ill be sure to put that to the test.

The past few days have been an absolute whirlwind. Traveling here from Boston seemed to take an eternity, not only because it was over 28 hours of flights and layovers, but because TIME WAS ACTUALLY REWINDING AS I WAS FLYING, which was just plain FRUSTRATING. The flights from Boston to Dallas and Dallas to Los Angeles were complete hell. During which I actually contemplated buying a ticket home and cutting my losses before the 13 hour flight over the Pacific ocean. But after meeting with a handful of kids from my program, and commiserating with them about how much we had already been through I had decided that New Zealand would be worth the temporary discomfort. The flight on Quantas Airways from LAX to Auckland was a DREAM. We were served 2 meals, had unlimited movies to watch and a blanket. Needless to say after 15 hours of dealing with American Airlines the smiling Aussie faces and free in-flight drinks were a sight for sore eyes. The views (though minimal at 5000 feet) were spectacular from the plane. While it was only ocean and sky, the stars were so clear and bright. I had a nice long conversation with the man next to me about sustainability and beer, and slept until we landed.

We touched down at about 10:30 am New Zealand time and gathered our bags, went through a short and fairly layed back customs process and met up with our program leaders Jeff and Kevin. Walking outside the first thing i notice is how GOOD this place smells. Its a mixture of flowers, fresh cut grass, sea water and barbecue sauce and it just screams summer here.

We returned to the place where I will call home for the next 6 months, The Unilodge. Its a sort of dorm/community center/apartment complex. I was given my FIRST single in all of my college history. We all had a tapas lunch as a group (curdiosy of the program leaders) and walked around some as a group to go shopping for our apartments. Which is when i found out that things here are EXPENSIVE. Luckily, the dollar is fairly strong here, about .75 to the New Zealand dollar.

I spent the night drinking beer and bonding, swapping sex stories, laughing and occasionally having moments where I realized that I actually did make it here, and that it will be my reality for the next 6 months. Today is the first day of classes, though i don't have my first one until tonight and i am excited. I had forgotten that this trip would actually require some schooling and work but with 2 classes a semester, it should all be fairly manageable. I'm also debating buying a bike here, thought the roads are EXTREMELY hilly. I guess i ll just have to come home with ripped calves.

Saturday a company called GOOT (Get Out of Town) is sponsoring a bus tour for our program. I'm piss and shit excited to actually see a bit more of this place and also to go to the beach and work away this marshmallow complexion.

I am satisfied, I am happy, I'm still a bit freaked out but I'm ready for this whole experience. I can't wait to meet locals, hike the land, eat the food and live like a kiwi if only for a little while.

ps: I'm sorry for the lack of pictures. The internet here is INCREDIBLY SLOW and it is not that i haven't got pictures to post, its just that i don't have 3 hours to wait for them to upload. Soon though, i promise.

HEYO so holy shit. I made it.

I'm currently at an internet cafe' and wont be able to write very much, but i am drafting a long arival blog post for yall that will be up in a few days.

THIS PLACE RULES SO FAR. Double summer was a great idea. ITS HOT, ITS SUNNY, ITS HUMID AND I AM ALIVEEEEEEE.

TALK TO YOU ALL SOON. SKYPEING CAN COMMENCE ONCE I GET INTERNET ON MY LAPTOP

The Departure

Today is the day I LEAVE.

My best friends from back home saw me up to Boston last night to a. shriek b. get me too drunk to care about what i'm doing today. Both were sucessful, however now I will sit in gate 33 at logan airport and play an online version of the "Mexican Train Game" for the next 2 hours. Traveling unsettles me enough to arrive to my departures HOURS ahead of time for fear of... well, everything.
Also there is now a x-ray naked picture of me floating around the world somewhere but in all honesty I could care less. An off color blueprint of my coo-kaa may be worth something to someone, and if they want it, hell, its all yours, ya freak.

I wonder, should I accept the 25 farmville requests i have pending on my facebook? I mean its not the best way to spend your time, but they didn't cure pollio in an airport terminal. The only thing that goes on here is knitting. Everyone is fucking knitting. Status of the airport... the aggressive flipping of fashion magazines, music from the weather channel and knitting.

heyo im leaving now CYA IN TEXAS.