I arrived in Welly on the morning train, my appointment with the toothenheimer is at 3pm so I decide to do some chores around J's house. The right side of my face is tender and swollen like a chipmunks cheek. I buck up some wood and work on a set of exterior stairs that lead to the basement. Many homes here don't central heating, however J's does, good thing as it is cold and damp.
The time finally arrives and J drives me to the appt. asking if I need a ride home. She is tired and I don't want to be a bother so with the usual aplomb I tell her I can get back to the house no worries. As the Tui beer ads say "yeah right". The dentist Dr. M is an attractive Irish lass who loves the outdoors, hiking and canoeing, we hit it off right away and then she asks me to open wide. You know that feeling when a medical professional looks at the problem and doesn't say much but sighs and calls for a lot of foreign sounding instruments, then in a falsetto calm voice tells you to relax, we'll get to the root of the problem. One minute I am looking at hiking maps pinned on the office wall and suddenly I am staring at the ceiling with one rather large needle being inserted into my gum. Since I am male we can't show any pain or weakness but when my your eyes start watering you know it hurts. For forty five minutes I say nothing in a vain attempt to be the tough guy but it hurts like hell. It hurts so much that it actually stopped hurting for a few moments that was when I realized I had crossed the pain thresh hold.
The chair tilts up and the tears roll down my face, still I stoically say nothing. My real concern is the cost and whether I can pay for the procedure with the little cash I have, given that my credit card is close to being maxed out because someone forgot to make a payment before he left. Dr. M looks at me and asks if I am okay. I nod and attempt to smile which of course makes for a ludicrous face given the freezing is still at work. I stand up and almost pass out quickly regaining my footing and exit thanking Dr M as I go. At the reception desk I reach into my pocket for my cash and realize it's not there, somewhere along the way I have lost almost $300. I dig out my Visa card and pray that the financial Gods are at work, my card is processed no problem.
In a haze of latent pain and suffering I turn the wrong way after leaving the dentists office. J told me which road to take to get back to her house, of course I forget the name of the road but find one that sounds very much like it and start heading up the hill. One thing you have to understand about Welly a large majority of the city is built on a bloody hill, so up I go, trudging along holding my cheek looking very pathetic. I climb forever my calves are burning from the hike.
In an hour I am at the top of the hill looking for J's house, suddenly I realize I am in the wrong area as nothing looks familiar. The hillside is a mix of housing and trees with beautiful sweeping ravines that lead down to the business section of the city. I spot a house that I think is J's and realize I am too far west. I hike back down the hill but decide to go through the forested ravine to save time. I only have my dress shoes on with no gripping soles. The hiking route that I start on quickly becomes a narrow pathway with pitches that are at a 60 degree angle, once I start down there is no stopping. I literally swing from tree to tree grabbing a hold to slow myself down (a theme that will be repeated in a later adventure). I nervously make my way down the slick soil based hillside praying that I am not going to be lost in this urban forest, to be found curled up in a fetal position by some family out on a Sunday hike. At the same time the freezing begins to wear off, the pain is unbearable, fortunately my current predicament precludes being able to focus on anything other than staying on my feet. After a half hour descent I end up in someone's backyard. I scramble out of the forest and I am back where I started about 100 metres away from the dentists office.
Now any sane individual would ask to use the phone and call J for a ride, or take a cab. Remember I said I had no money I also didn't have the contact number for J's place. Confidently I walk further east and boldly charge back up the another street slogging my way up the hillside again. My tooth no longer hurts but the rest of my body isn't doing as well and I am getting tired. I make it to the top of the hill again only to realize that I have made the same mistake twice. The topography looks all too familiar, I am back at that same spot again, all roads do lead to Rome! This time I stay on the beaten path and follow the street back down, once again I am back at the dentists office, however this time it is closed for the day.
A little more clear headed now I realize I needed to go east not west. I re-trace the route that J drove and start recognizing some familiar landmarks. I also know that if I don't get it right this time there won't be a third trip I will just curl up under a tree and sleep. Fortune smiles upon me and I find the right street. I crawl up a long winding set of stairs that snake through yet another beautiful forested area, although the beauty is lost on me at this particular moment. By the time I arrive at J's it is after six o'clock I am exhausted and she is relieved to see her wayward guest finally made it back home.
My tooth is healed thanks to some great dentistry and I am ready to return to my flat. Tomorrow I am meeting my farming buddies from the pub, it is time for the great NZ boar hunt.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
A hole in my head
Tuesday a.m.
I wake up later than usual which is a cause for concern. My tooth is throbbing so I avoid eating much just a spot of tea and toast. I answer emails, and the talk to J who decides that I need to see a toothenheimer sooner than later. She calls back, I have an appt for Thursday afternoon. Until then I can subsist on saline rinses and scotch. In the evening I ride down to the pub which is closed, I circle back and decide to cycle through town although there will be nothing happening. As I pass a pedestrian on the sidewalk his cell phone illuminating his face he calls out to me.
"Hey mate where you headed"
I circle back and we exchange pleasantries it turns out H's family owns a small vineyard on the other side of town. I walk my bike as we talk telling him how much I am enjoying the local Pinot Noir even the Pinot Gris although I am not a white wine fan.
"Why don't you come back to the house you can try some of our wines" H offers. He is a young fella in his early twenties. I accept his invite and we walk to the vineyard where he lives in an apartment above the wine cellars. The house dates back to the late 19th century, another example of colonial architecture the house is beautiful.
"It's rented right now my folks are at the other house in the country" H opens the door to the winery and we enter. Fragrant aromas tickle my nose. The walls are bordered by huge barrels with names written in chalk on the tops of the barrels.
"They're our individual vintages" H explains as he pops a large cork on a huge keg of Pinot and offers me a sniff. We trek upstairs and plop down on opposite sofa's, H rounds up some samples, beginning with a five year Chardonnay which is superb. We eventually finish that bottle off and H offers a taste of some brandy he made 8 years ago. He brings out the 3/4 filled dusty bottle and uncorks it offering a generous glass. It is superb, smooth and mellow, it goes down a little too easily. Next is a French cider then we get into the Pinot Gris, as we drink more vino we discuss the worlds problems in detail offering our own take on possible solutions to climate change, corrupt governments and the perfect woman. The bathroom is too far to negotiate so the second story deck comes in handy, ah the luxuries of being a male.
H proves to be an enigmatic host, as he trots out more vintage treats tongues loosen in spite of a three decade age difference, H seems to be hip to many worldly issues. More brandy and a subsequent offer of a vineyard tour in the morning. I even offer to be a volunteer pruner for the day, if I can rise and shine to get back there the next morning. As each glass is drained the chances of an early morning seem more remote. In spite of my best efforts I am a poor lush hangovers can last for days in my reality. That is all lost in the moment, hell I'm on holidays enjoying an evening of alcohol and male bonding, pour me another brother.
3a.m.
I have left H's about fifteen minutes ago and managed to wobble half kilometre down the road back to my flat weaving from side to side narrowly missing the ditch on several occasions. Half an hour later I have managed the ten minute ride. My tooth no longer bothers me, as a matter of fact I can't even feel my teeth. I do know one thing, in the morning my brain is going to hurt. I swallow a couple of IB Profens and a huge glass of water quickly falling fast asleep some might call it passing out, but isn't that something you do in college?
8 a.m.
Cobwebs, dry mouth and a low dull throbbing are my bedfellows this a.m. I hop into the shower believing that if I keep moving I won't feel the effects of some very sugary alcohol. I get on my bike and peddle like the devil is on my tail. J and D my adopted Kiwi parents must wonder where the hell this crazy Canuck goes everyday on the bike. I arrive at H's feeling a little better. H is all ready with his pruning gear I am outfitted with the same. We head out to the vines and he demonstrates how to remove the old growth taking care not to prune the root vines but paring the plant down to a small nub with a couple of grandparent branches left to support the new growth. I work for a few hours or to my maximum capability given my weakened condition. H suggests a breakfast downtown. I am certainly ready for some grub and off we go. Kiwi's are incredibly resilient, bright kind folks, the lady at the cafe remembers my preference of tea the service is second to none. Oh and there is very little if any tipping here, the theory being that servers make enough dough they don't need a tip. I counter that when I pay for breakfast with a small remuneration for a job well done.
H and I bid farewell with the promise to catch up in the following weeks. He is off to university in the fall and I wish him luck. As I ride back to the flat I am gobsmacked by the generosity of Kiwi's and how willing they are to share their lives with a bloke from the other side of the world. When I get back to the flat I sneak between the sheets revelling in the smell of fresh clean white bed linens and a comfortable bed. Thanks to my Kiwi Mum and Dad I never wanted for a comfortable place to rest my head. My toothache has returned with a vengeance thank God I see the dentist tomorrow.
Kiaora
I wake up later than usual which is a cause for concern. My tooth is throbbing so I avoid eating much just a spot of tea and toast. I answer emails, and the talk to J who decides that I need to see a toothenheimer sooner than later. She calls back, I have an appt for Thursday afternoon. Until then I can subsist on saline rinses and scotch. In the evening I ride down to the pub which is closed, I circle back and decide to cycle through town although there will be nothing happening. As I pass a pedestrian on the sidewalk his cell phone illuminating his face he calls out to me.
"Hey mate where you headed"
I circle back and we exchange pleasantries it turns out H's family owns a small vineyard on the other side of town. I walk my bike as we talk telling him how much I am enjoying the local Pinot Noir even the Pinot Gris although I am not a white wine fan.
"Why don't you come back to the house you can try some of our wines" H offers. He is a young fella in his early twenties. I accept his invite and we walk to the vineyard where he lives in an apartment above the wine cellars. The house dates back to the late 19th century, another example of colonial architecture the house is beautiful.
"It's rented right now my folks are at the other house in the country" H opens the door to the winery and we enter. Fragrant aromas tickle my nose. The walls are bordered by huge barrels with names written in chalk on the tops of the barrels.
"They're our individual vintages" H explains as he pops a large cork on a huge keg of Pinot and offers me a sniff. We trek upstairs and plop down on opposite sofa's, H rounds up some samples, beginning with a five year Chardonnay which is superb. We eventually finish that bottle off and H offers a taste of some brandy he made 8 years ago. He brings out the 3/4 filled dusty bottle and uncorks it offering a generous glass. It is superb, smooth and mellow, it goes down a little too easily. Next is a French cider then we get into the Pinot Gris, as we drink more vino we discuss the worlds problems in detail offering our own take on possible solutions to climate change, corrupt governments and the perfect woman. The bathroom is too far to negotiate so the second story deck comes in handy, ah the luxuries of being a male.
H proves to be an enigmatic host, as he trots out more vintage treats tongues loosen in spite of a three decade age difference, H seems to be hip to many worldly issues. More brandy and a subsequent offer of a vineyard tour in the morning. I even offer to be a volunteer pruner for the day, if I can rise and shine to get back there the next morning. As each glass is drained the chances of an early morning seem more remote. In spite of my best efforts I am a poor lush hangovers can last for days in my reality. That is all lost in the moment, hell I'm on holidays enjoying an evening of alcohol and male bonding, pour me another brother.
3a.m.
I have left H's about fifteen minutes ago and managed to wobble half kilometre down the road back to my flat weaving from side to side narrowly missing the ditch on several occasions. Half an hour later I have managed the ten minute ride. My tooth no longer bothers me, as a matter of fact I can't even feel my teeth. I do know one thing, in the morning my brain is going to hurt. I swallow a couple of IB Profens and a huge glass of water quickly falling fast asleep some might call it passing out, but isn't that something you do in college?
8 a.m.
Cobwebs, dry mouth and a low dull throbbing are my bedfellows this a.m. I hop into the shower believing that if I keep moving I won't feel the effects of some very sugary alcohol. I get on my bike and peddle like the devil is on my tail. J and D my adopted Kiwi parents must wonder where the hell this crazy Canuck goes everyday on the bike. I arrive at H's feeling a little better. H is all ready with his pruning gear I am outfitted with the same. We head out to the vines and he demonstrates how to remove the old growth taking care not to prune the root vines but paring the plant down to a small nub with a couple of grandparent branches left to support the new growth. I work for a few hours or to my maximum capability given my weakened condition. H suggests a breakfast downtown. I am certainly ready for some grub and off we go. Kiwi's are incredibly resilient, bright kind folks, the lady at the cafe remembers my preference of tea the service is second to none. Oh and there is very little if any tipping here, the theory being that servers make enough dough they don't need a tip. I counter that when I pay for breakfast with a small remuneration for a job well done.
H and I bid farewell with the promise to catch up in the following weeks. He is off to university in the fall and I wish him luck. As I ride back to the flat I am gobsmacked by the generosity of Kiwi's and how willing they are to share their lives with a bloke from the other side of the world. When I get back to the flat I sneak between the sheets revelling in the smell of fresh clean white bed linens and a comfortable bed. Thanks to my Kiwi Mum and Dad I never wanted for a comfortable place to rest my head. My toothache has returned with a vengeance thank God I see the dentist tomorrow.
Kiaora
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