Traveling with an introvert.
Opposites attract; that's science! So it seems pretty natural that besides the things that we share, I am an extrovert and in being so I am almost polar opposite to my traveling buddy. When you live in each other's pockets for 5 months it highlights all those differences swept under the carpet by modern life. But it surprised me by also accentuating what you both bring to the table. I hadn't realised the extent to Lisa's internalised nature. It's endearing sometimes. Other times it baffles me, how a person who can control 32 rampaging year eights like they were tamed monkeys; refuses to talk to a stranger to ask the time. She is shy, with a level of politeness that only a British monarch can normally achieve.
Opposites attract; that's science! So it seems pretty natural that besides the things that we share, I am an extrovert and in being so I am almost polar opposite to my traveling buddy. When you live in each other's pockets for 5 months it highlights all those differences swept under the carpet by modern life. But it surprised me by also accentuating what you both bring to the table. I hadn't realised the extent to Lisa's internalised nature. It's endearing sometimes. Other times it baffles me, how a person who can control 32 rampaging year eights like they were tamed monkeys; refuses to talk to a stranger to ask the time. She is shy, with a level of politeness that only a British monarch can normally achieve.
But recently New Zealand has tested her. When you travel with an extrovert you inevitably meet people. I can't help but speak to other onlookers of wonderful events and share the moment. Somehow to me this heightens everything around me. But for Lisa and others like her we have met along the way; it all happens behind the smile. She sees, recognises, and observes. As if her mind has paused her body and her expressions, while her brain records the mind blowing moment in enough detail to build a perfect replica of the Instant years later. With nothing more left for the rest of us to feed on but that smile. The bit of me that is constantly attached to those around me through scanning, sub consciously, expressions and hand gestures is left twitching and confused. She is celebrating on her own and with her happiness. A perfect example would have to be our adrenaline pumped sky dive. Throughout which people with movie style accents and adjectives only used in explosions, hand gestured their way to eternal cool. Lisa smiled constantly and simply took in the surroundings. The waves and jeers of the accompanying flying camera man managed to squeeze out a slightly bigger smile before he went back to being utterly ignored. We came to one conclusion: I had the better video, she had the better experience.
The next challenge for Lisa is not just the swell of people around her that want to drag her into the unknown through greetings and enthusiastic waves, but the kindness. It's hard to get through seven and a half weeks with someone as clumsy and unorganised as me without a sticky wicket or two. Even without the bad situations, people in New Zealand are just incredibly kind. We meet people, really shockingly kind people who have either taken us in with a cup of tea and sheltered us from the rain in a warehouse full of steam punk memorabilia (with a fully working organ set up with random sound effects on each key). Or traveled with us as If we had known them for years, to later invite us to recoup in a much needed break (and spear fish) at a beach house. This all sounds amazing but I'm coming to realise it's also hard. It's hard to accept pure and outrageous kindness with nothing to offer in return. When we were invited to stay I was relieved and excited to meet up with Graeme and experience the actual kiwi experience. Lisa was terrified we would instantly outstay our welcome. I could see her squirm. We stayed way longer than we thought (through invitation). It was amazing. We played cards with the whole family and it was a desperately needed reminder that family was out there. Despite a crushing defeat (we came last and second to last) at the hands of a slightly tipsy nana, who hustled me at rock paper scissors, we slept better than we had in a while. We even wrote an entry in the memory book. It's hard for me to express how thankful we were. But for our resident queen of the shy, it was an impossibility to provide adequate thanks and "are you sure?". A hand wrapped gift given with out a second thought became a highlight of our trip.
To learn how to free dive and shoot a spear gun while Lisa went full grandma mode and finished her first ever knitting project. A passion planted in her by a little old lady we met after she tried to turf us out of the community centre on Stewart Island. Lisa mentioned knitting and the hard face designed to ward off wifi stealing travellers lit up. Half an hour later we could cast on... During that half an hour I've never heard so many apologies and "oh stop it it's your first time." Kind words. And a bizarre perfect moment. I was still shaken from witnessing the brutal murder of an octopus Lisa had just caught.
The time at the beach house ended and we were in a bit of a slump. Money had creeped into our brains as it always eventually does, like oil on the surface of water. Our prudent sensible sides had put ash over the fire, and we were ready to just leave. The van was getting too much and the weather had turned against us. We had one last thing to do though: the volcano. This was an idea given to us by a fellow introvert who I unwittingly dragged into a conversation. Now, it was an odd Attenborough style moment that brought home to me how different the world must look through an introvert's eyes. Watching the pair of them revel in their natural habitat I realised I had become an enabler. I was useful to have around to get them over the initial bump of introduction and then I was forgotten as they revealed to each other similarities in the way their minds worked. Like two timid meer cats. (I'm obviously a lion in this metaphor). Their desire to simply exist and allow what came and went around them without forcing anything themselves taunted me into acting. I seemed to be drawn in to making more conversation. I was overbalanced by Neil's politeness and his need to stay in the conversation that I wouldn't let drop. I saw the difference between us, I have a need to manipulate and control a situation around me, without that I feel a bit lost. They allow it to just occur, I can see the up side of both. Anyway... a cup of good coffee, the hobbit movie and a lesson on how to fix our hard drive issues later and we had planned a trip to the white isle together. He would get in our van. If we were doubly "sure".
We had planned the last bit of money we would spend for the island and had beaten back the worries enough to enjoy it. Lisa has stamped a clear need to see this volcano and I liked the idea of wearing a gas mask. The day came and the road north of Wellington was flooded so for Neil lasted nine hours. We picked him up and promptly got a phone call to say the tour was cancelled due to big swells. Gutted. Two introverts and a recovering extrovert in a van with no plans. Belt up and ride the "I am happy with either" sail on the "honestly either is fine" and tac the "I am bored we are eating here!" all the way to a restaurant with wifi. We need to consolidate and re-plan how we would "waste" the time between now and when we all fly.
The next three days have made it really hard to leave New Zealand. We went from letting money chase us into "killing time" before searching for jobs; to sitting here now at the airport having blinked twice since that moment. It won't surprise anyone to know that we chose the caving company without 'legendary' in the title and it turned out $100 cheaper. The recent bad weather had flooded the caves making everything scarier, more dangerous and all together amazing. We had to sit and wait for a phone call to see if one last shower had tipped the water into "too dangerous". Another highlight. We agreed two things: we would ration the 'whooping' to extreme scenarios of joy and would queen wave in all the photos. Watching Lisa being pushed by the 'only safe in New Zealand' currents into Neil's crotch was to see a moment so awkward it actually could have been staged. A man who when photographed looks like he should be standing in the background of the sixth sense, desperately apologising to a girl who is putting her attempts to apologise over trying to breathe was too much. I nearly died. I decided to try and find a happy medium between extro and intro that would allow me to prioritise living over embarrassment. When two introverts join forces what do they make? Nothing they look at the floor turn their feet inwards slightly. Then smile beautifully.
It was the manliest man I have ever met named Bruce offering us his driveway to sleep on in Auckland that blew us away next. His daughter was 12 and over heard me talking about diving. I stopped talking when she grinned and it turns out they have a boat and she is a lot better than me. Cough* needless to say we woke up to a cooked breakfast from the mum who we had never even seen. Insert Obligatory kiwi offer of showers and a demand that we go back if we need any more help. All we had was nothing to offer. So I remembered her saying they were encouraging their daughter to travel and I gave her a few of my families phone numbers and said boldly: "if ever any one of you is in England these people will be able to find me and we will look after yours". It took me back that she didn't give me a look to say 'thanks but no thanks' or 'nice gesture but we both know it's empty', but nodded and expectantly took the note. I stumbled onto a way of life. People actually look after people, the offer of a house for a night in England seemed as natural to her as if I had handed her a £50 note. This is how things are done here. It even made Lisa give one less thanks and feel better to be accepting kindness.
There were moments when I did manage to eventually score a point for the bullish extroverts. They admitted they liked me having the foreign over confidence to get diving gear for half price and I appreciated a way to learn how to smooth an edge I have felt on my personality for a while. A fair trade I feel. The snorkelling meant we were knee deep in New Zealand right up until the end. A giant ray kept us in the water long enough to be numb and swaying like we had been sailing for a year. We are about to fly and not only have the last weeks been some of the best of our trip they have also taught me a lot about a way of viewing the world that has been sitting right under my nose. We leave appropriately sad and have calmly discussed our happiness at the prospect of returning.