Less than a week in, and the feeling of overwhelm has receded to lapping waves rather than crashing tsunamis.
After being welcomed into the country by two awesome friends in Auckland, I’ve been shown around my new town by two extremely kind and ridiculously helpful new friends. Oh, and made a canine best pal as well.
I’ve been loads of walks, some via the pub, some not. Played hide and seek with the mountain. Started to look for a car and gotten disheartened pretty quickly – but I mean, why isn’t someone selling a mint condition truck-beast for under a grand?!
Got some admin stuff done too – phone number, bank account, scoped out where might do good coffee…
But today I ventured off on my own to find my bearings. Because although without my two fabulous helpers I would have descended far further into my usual complex mix of lethargy/outright panic/overwhelm/she’ll be right/no worries which normally epitomises any major life change of mine, I’ve been on the go pretty much since I arrived but not really on my own.
Unless we count the jaunt to Devonport in Auckland. Which was brilliant right up until I got back off the bus and spent forever trying to find my way from bus stop to house. Ended up at a shopping mall which I knew was in the right area for the house, but definitely should not have been on the route back from the bus stop. If only Tank juice did a shot of sense of direction as well as immunity and energy…
Anyway, after being shown around a few different places on dog walks by my tour guides/new friends/superstars I decided to go back to the park for a bit more of an explore, with a vague idea of a picnic, or at least some cake. Well, the weather had other ideas vis-a-vis the picnic – namely ‘ha, not bloody likely’ but I went for a walk anyway. And, as always happens (see: Auckland and etc) when left to my own devices, I got lost. I took a track into the trees and thought I’d never make it out again. I kept doing loops and saw the same signpost three times from different directions. I kept hitting the edge of the park but getting no nearer to the middle. Eventually I think physics took over and I’d been around enough times to build up the momentum necessary to be slung back out into the main park. It’s the only explanation that makes sense to me.
It would seem my nose is only good for sniffing out food (and when I was younger, finding which cat had peed where) and reliance for directions falls to an as yet undiscovered sense.
But back in the main part of the park I did manage to follow signs for the Tea House, and revived myself there before mooching into town. I found a good little cafe which did homemade macarons, so that and a chai latte made the world alright again and I could appreciate how beautiful the park was and how much there is to explore. If nothing else, it’ll keep me occupied about four times longer than anyone else!
I also managed to get a bus card – after a few attempts with the word bus in the post shop – and got ‘home’ again without a hitch. If you don’t count me totally confusing the bus driver to the point where she just let me out on the corner of the street I needed. Which I don’t.