Monday evening

Most immediately, I became aware of the fact that an island off the North Island of NZ which is a volcano, blew this afternoon, killing some people and injuring more. I saw some videos and read some news articles. It very well could have been me, as I'm a tourist. I just happen to be in the South Island right now and I was more monitoring the floods and land/rockslides that have rendered a large chunk of the South Island impassable due to the road damage. In particular, Franz Josef area where I spent some time last year. I feel more justified in having done my advanced directives at the very least, and intend to contemplate death and dying more as I continue to practice [meditation].

I've now felt my first several senses of community and they are sweet. But quite fleeting. The hostel (locally called a "backpackers") I've been staying at here in Nelson has a few solid folks who are long-termers and I feel very safe, comfortable, appreciated, and a sense of belonging amongst them. So I stayed for 5 nights instead of 4, and will be heading out in the morning to my first workaway, a family who owns a wine tour company in a vineyard-filled sprawling area about 2 hours south of here. It's rural, and I anticipate helping out with various tasks around the house, cooking, cleaning, and childcare for a little tot- not sure how old. I am looking forward to being in a real kitchen and having access to spices, oils, and raw ingredients. I hope. I have no idea what the dynamic will be, but I'll find out. I'll also relish being around a kid again and being able to engage in home-maintaining tasks, whatever they may be.

These long termers include a very bro-y mountain biker who is camper-vanning around from Squamish, CA, a bearded twinkly smiled Yang-gangster from Cleveland who immediately pinned me as American due to my Nalgene and Osprey (yup), a charismatic Brit named Callum who has a tattoo of Thing 1 and Thing 2 prancing on the inside of his bicep, a spunky German girl who's got a job at a local Italian restaurant and a French girl who is gluten free ("not by choice") and is also a solo traveler.

Part of me wants to really get into some of the emotional underpinnings to everything that happens rather than simply report happenings and remarkable circumstances. I haven't quite figured out how to disclose with grace and skill and measured boundaries rather than an unfiltered vulnerability that is not wise to have on the internet.

The beach tournament was challenging disc-wise, as the wind was so intense the entire time, except the 2nd half of the very last game on Sunday when instead of gale-force winds, there was monsoon rains. Very hard to complete any passes. Several games went by without any break points. It was more like an homage to ultimate than anything else. Communal-energy wise it was really great and I relished in feeling again, a sense of belonging and purpose. Being a part of something, generally accepted, and able to engage. I even reconnected with a few people I had met playing pickup here last year, and got that fervent buzz of a tournament when there is just so many hours in a 48 hour period spent amongst people that it's like a crash course in getting to know random strangers. At least for me, playing in a hat tournament in another country.

There continues to be ups and downs, disappointments, moments of pause, rapture at the beautiful nature, distress and resignedness, lament and shame. Doubt and wistfulness, glee and relief and longing.

And I left my cute little mini Dr. Bronner's bottle of soap I brought at a hostel in Auckland. So now I'm soapless.

*If you are reading this and have any questions about NZ, travel, me, or otherwise, feel free to comment and/or otherwise get in touch with me and ask, and I will address it in this blog.