Flea Food
New Zealand has 4 million people, 40 million sheep. South Island’s West Coast has 30,000 people, 30 million sand fleas. I’ve met each of the smaller inhabitants and offered up my ankles reluctantly as a buffet. Luckily there are many other redeeming factors of this area to overpower the itching. Beaches strewn with driftwood, dripping tropical foliage, waterfalls. It’s the only place in the world that I know of where you can stand on a sandy beach admiring the waves and within 30 minutes gaze up at the towering base of a glacier. In fact, this is what strikes me most about New Zealand: all the favorite places from my life are kneaded together and baked into two irregularly-shaped loaves.
Partly because it’s sunny, partly because this African-styled hostel is just so cool and comfortable, I think Greymouth will be a place to sit for a few days. Hiking Arthur’s Pass tomorrow, mountain-biking, maybe even a silly 4-wheeler trip to slop through muddy trails (Margene hasn’t had her fun lately).
To all of you with whom I share genes and/or just good memories, I miss you. I hope grins are making themselves comfortable on your faces, and contentment is putting up its feet in your soul.
Tags: Greymouth, New Zealand
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