With Ruby doctored up we decided to explore around the tiny, quaint, freakin adorable town of Cormandel. I fell in love with a tea shop and a fresh lemon ginger carrot juice and also discovered New Zealand men can’t be bothered to close public toilet doors when they use them.(I’ll spare you the story) We also lazed around in the sunshine and soaked up the best weather we have experienced since landing in Kiwi land.
Pushing on to our final destination of Whitianga where we checked into our hostel. One look at this place and I was in love. It looked as if the creator bought a bag of Starburst and handed all the tiny candies to the man at the paint store saying “These!! These are the colors I want!!”
For $22NZ (or $17.80 US) we had an ocean view and a patio that made me feel like the richest woman alive.
And a lemon tree?! Really, does it get any better?
The artwork on the walls made me smile as well. I am thinking of you sister Jenny!
I immediately trekked out on my own, not wanting to be bothered with getting a meal.
I discovered it was approximately 200 steps from hostel to this….
I walked along the beach and finally sank into the sand and started pondering life. Deep stuff really.
Theres something about stunning landscapes and quiet sitting time that gets my brain turning and twisting around “if a tree falls in a forest”, philosophy-esque stuff.
So there I was pondering.
Feeling a million and one feelings when a man ran up to me with so much joy I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Ya want t’ fish?” he smiled down. My first thought was that he was going to let me fish with him. I was ecstatic. His fishing poles were massive and looked more expensive than Ruby.
I reached for one right as he flung a fish at my face. “Here ya are!” he exclaimed, so proud of himself and his generous offering that I couldn’t help but smile back and take the fish. I told him I’d cook it up for dinner and his smile grew wider than I thought possible. “Sweet as!!” he called back. He picked up his pole to continue fishing and I staggered off…with my fish.
I stared him down. Frank. And then realized I had no keys to the hostel. And DB and Sarah had gone to dinner. Frank and I were on our own.
Flash forward an hour and Frank and I found a new friend.
Our neighbor downstairs was meditating outside as I walked up and whether from the smell of Frank or the clonking of my sandy flip flops she opened her eyes and squealed in delight! I was honored that she 1. Assumed I had caught the fish myself 2. Assumed I had a planned way to prepare Frank. Neither was true and she was kind enough to help me slice little Frankie up.
He was ready for dinner.
And so was I. I fired up the grill, grabbed some tin foil and layered on spices. You can never have too much right?
I’m starting to believe the best things in life can’t be bought.