Basia Unleashed

…and I realised the fun was drawing to an end. And I realised I had fallen in love, that I was leaving, that this is it, it’s over, and I won’t see you again. And I was truly, madly, deeply heartbroken.

I met a lot of people along the way, but the shining stars who lit up my life: sweet Sally, free-spirit Fran, Lynne and her writer’s block tips, Stephen and his Scando pop (who’d have thought Kylie’s Put Your Hand On My Heart could be so desperately sad?), Khoa Do for making Footy Legends and also for being my escort, if only for one night, Rachel, Phillip, Frank & Jenny, the boy in Tonga who said I looked like an angel, the boy in Berkelouw Books for giving me the hot thigh sweats on a Thursday afternoon…

But wait there is more, dear reader. Walking around the streets of Auckland I felt a mixture of sadness and joy and couldn’t shake away the tears. I made wonderful friends here and I’m heartsore to be leaving. In one way or another, these people made my life here an absolute pleasure and gave me magic and made my world a better place - Katie, Angelina, Hayley…and the boys who put a smile on my face - Jezza, Tana and Dougie. Thanks. For every second.

Posted by Basia at 10:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

The land of the long white cloud is calling me and soon I will be back in beautiful Auckland to see my friends, meet my sister and fall in love with the dancing, smiling waters of Waitemata all over again. I’ll take my sister up the Sky Tower and maybe this time I will be able to walk on the bits on the floor that are made of glass and which give a new meaning to the phrase “I’m not too good with heights” and we’ll go to the top of Mt Eden and to American Nick’s very cool bar and all the other places I miss.

But that’s not all folks because a childhood dream of mine is coming true - I’ll be going to Tonga, aka the Friendly Islands, aka the Land of Polynesian Hunks. Ever since I read the story of Captain Cook as a wee blade, I have been fascinated by those islands and now I am going to go, laze on a hammock over hot white sand, listen to the static on a transistor radio, gaze at the crystalline aquamarine sea and sip coconut and rum and dream of shaking my hula for my Polynesian war lord. Sigh.

Meanwhile here is a small vidjoe of the people of Aotearoa and the people of Tonga having a bit of a face off. My money’s on the boys in red:
http://www.bebo.com/FlashBox.jsp?FlashViewType=Personal&FlashBoxId=1905065991

Posted by Basia at 1:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin. Once upon a time, Ruapehu, Tongariro, Pihanga and Taranaki all lived at the southern end of Lake Taupo. When they competed for Ruapehu’s favours, a fight resulted which saw Tongariro as the victor. Taranaki, the beautiful one, fell in love with Pihanga, who was Tongariro’s wife, and the enraged husband gave Taranaki such a kick as to drive him far to the west. But Taranaki vowed to march back one day. So beware those who sit in his path.

There are five volcanoes in the Taupo volcanic zone which have erupted in the last 100 years, with both Ruapehu and Ngauruhoe erupting as recently as 1975 (Ruapehu also erupted in 1953, killing 151 people). Both are still active, emitting steam and gas from time to time and I can see Ruapehu as I write this, rising 2997 metres in snow capped glory, its crater crowned head glittering in a halo of golden afternoon sun against the pale blue of the late Autumn sky.

It always surprises me when gargantuan mountains emerge in the middle of lush, green rolling lands, imposing themselves without so much as a by your leave. Ruapehu is maybe some two hours drive from where I am, yet it looks like it’s just across the fields. Interestingly, in Maori mythology, volcanoes are male. Read into that what you will, as no doubt some of you will.

Posted by Basia at 4:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Pyroclastic flow. God there’s a phrase that gets me all hot. I’ve only been obsessed with volcanoes forever and vast mountain ranges since I attempted to do some Six Million Dollar man stylee running some two thousand metres up in the Andes. Well, when I say run, I mean, move a bit faster than I normally do in wedge heel sandals. Don’t even ask how I got up there in wedge heel sandals. Just believe it. Aconcagua (two days walk to base camp said our guide - a hella lot longer in your footwear lady - and there was me thinking it was just a short stroll across that meadow yonder) to the best of my knowledge is not a volcano, but it gave me a lifelong fascination for mountains that were made to be worshipped. Like Mount Taranaki.

The first time I saw a photograph of Taranaki it was true love. The first time I saw Taranaki from the car window, it was pure unadulterated passion, even more than the passion I felt for the very lovely Maori bartender with the improbable name of Patrique that I was to meet the same night (they build everything big in Taranaki it seems) but that could have been the gin.

It may sound silly to some but this volcano has been calling to me for a long time. It took me a long time to answer the call and even longer to get to see it, rising majestically above a swathe of cloud, dominant, breathtaking, commanding. Our first meeting was brief and in passing, but it was worth every penny and every mile it took to get here.

I will go to the volcano again and we will be face to face. And this time in more suitable footwear…

Posted by Basia at 1:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)