Reflections from a poor man's holiday

I watched large waves crashing on a reef at Charlies Bar knowing somehow it was a reality that calmed me from some unspoken fury I bury, and here I was far away from all that negativity as if I no longer had to collect the bucket under a never ending tap in my country of origin, New Zealand where everyone was under Neoliberal attack.

The outrage and sorrow never stopped flowing.

Every day a bucket full of injustice and horror, must be consumed and made sense of... behind these orphaned eyes.

I had bought my "Woke Notes" exercise book and three pens given to me ...but now I left the bucket ...for someone else to collect just for ten days...and the waves lambasted the shore...like attempts to make a difference that fell flat ...and all was calm as people with beautiful tans drank at tables and tried to relax.

We've all heard the saying from wealthy people that "you should have made better choices" when patronising the poor and stroking their own legendary success so when a meme drifted across Facebook countering this trickle down "own your life" idea - with the notion that "you had better choices to make", I reflected upon how it's hard for the comfortable to identify with the struggle.

Over one third of New Zealand is very comfortable and these people only experience a cost of living crisis in theory.

The holiday was Vicki's idea and she had planned it and I had agreed to it - but as the long shadows of the horrible future cast themselves over me ...I had told Vicki to find us the cheapest accomodation and rental car possible on the small island and she had done so wonderfully well, despite people in her shop saying we should fly off to some prettier place - a place really worth it - which would have doubled all our costs - because well, they have no idea that we are poor.

We have no real assets - like a house at our age and no real savings...we only have a small pile of hard fought piddle fart money - so a holiday seems like a terrible guilty pleasure.

It had been two years since we had a holiday so it was time.

Our place was so poor, even the street could not afford a name and it was impossible to tell the car rental where we were staying.

It was past the white building with the red roof, inland, and when I drove the beaten up rental, with gear box troubles, at 30km past the churches, the cemeteries and the stray dogs staring at us - and we only had a photo of a hedge to go by - but we found our place after only half an hour of circling. Which was way better than most tourists according to the landlord.

The cheapest accomodation does not have a heat pump nor air conditioning - and at 33 degrees - the sauna flavoured air inside had me glowing like a pig on a spit roast within ten minutes - so we asked for a second fan, one that actually worked, while Vicki asked for a gas bottle that had some gas in it - as we accepted that the water was not heated in the kitchen...

We were so glad to be there, it was perfect.

A starving kitten appeared at the door, as we helped feed the chickens, and Vicki loved the little creatures and we realised the VEON TV did not play anything - so we had to use what we had brought with us, which included a few cables, headphones and cell phones.

Somehow we were ready when the rains came.

We made do, as a skink ran across the wall and a thousand slaters and ten centipedes crossed the tiled floor...and the fans blew a gale and the pages of my note book flipped over ...while online someone accused me of being a cult leader, while another said this holiday exposed me and another said something about the end of any donations ...

The toilet gulped as it started to rain like it does in the tropics for five days straight and that bought the ants in - you know how it is...everyone was seeking shelter.

I write none of this with an ounce of complaint and not once did I ever think of upgrading - instead I was so glad and grateful to be there. This was pure awesome in my book.

Vicki knew people who knew hospo on the island and so we ventured out everyday and experienced the greatness of the ordinary and the flash all wrapped up into one.

Vicki convinced me we could just crash a resort bar and buy a cocktail with a view under an umbrella and I found myself taking small risks like eating oysters and drinking rum, when a gout attack could follow, but never did, proving I was some kind of hypochondriac kill joy that needed to loosen up.

Still every day I knew what was happening back home while I was away, which is why I will soon write about it, and I worried about short memories and immediate focus - as my wobbly teeth coped as best as they could with foods I tried, as a rooster stood on one leg - camper than a camper camping out on a restaurant lawn - as he raised the other and cocked his head ...I love the way they do that. Magnificent. Gold, red and aqua green.

We found a place where we could park the crappy rental car and just go for a swim in the warm lagoon, a place where you immerse yourself without any need to adapt to the temperature and slowly a tidal rip pulls you along the beach...which is how Vicki got talking to Jamaica - a green eyed beauty swimming in the shallows...like something out of a magazine.

Jamaica was the kind of woman some men will eat their arm over and her boyfriend was like Jason Momoa to look at - only finer and I left them to it - to hose off with fresh water from the coil on a tree - as coconut trees swayed in the breeze above me.

Vicki told me Jamaica knew her friend who had committed suicide only weeks ago - and without telling that story, let's just say there is much sadness in New Zealand impacting us all and families racked in pain seeking some way out - so this was not about beautiful bodies - but beautiful souls. People caught in generations of struggle where glib comments fall around them from the detached - and nobody knows...nobody knows.

In the background Nicola Willis says she does not want a pay rise and something about how only journalists who flat with Public Servants care about job cuts - while a man breaks into a kitchen window half way down Dominion Road - and crashes down onto a kitchen sink, before falling four feet onto his back on the floor.

He's 81 years old, some man stole his keys at the pub, it's been recorded on video - and now he had to break into his own flat after getting an Uber home...only to discover a spammer stole his $1000 dollars - as they prey on the poor and vulnerable ...and that same man had given $500 to Vicki to spend on this holiday ...and she wanted to spend it on a couples massage...

I could not do it at first because it seemed wrong to do anything for me ...give him that money back ...but you know, he would have none of that - and something happened which woke me up....the sound of my wife laughing on the massage bed beside me ...because I had fallen asleep with hands upon me and gone into a deep dream ...where I was just a boy ...and you know - you turn over and it's not a conscious thing ...but tears flow from some deeply buried release and relief...as Vicki, caught them flowing down my cheek, and nobody knows...nobody knows...

This was the best part of her holiday...just to see that happen to me...where did all that come from?

The thing about a holiday is that being takes over from doing and not many people know I had once been a "Values Coach" in a corporation - and when you stop doing - for a while you start - being - you get to reflect on the bigger picture and you make goals in the near future and you feel a kind of zing and revival - and context bursts through the clouds...like an epiphany and you see the light ...we all do it ...and the trick is to make it last.

On our last day we visited the places we had discovered that make the greatest breakfasts, the place that make the greatest coffee, and the marine reserve where we snorkelled under the surface and I saw a long silver fish like a piper - only nearly two feet long, something like a rainbow fish and a Air New Zealand fish with the logo from the tail of the planes on its side...and as I kicked around with my flippers, my front tooth fell out and flew up my snorkel.

I rushed to show Vicki ...we had a bit of a laugh and she said I will be getting a lisp soon.

Most people cannot afford dental and neither can I ( not all of us are Christopher Luxon because of our choices ) - but I will be getting rid of my teeth soon and putting something fake in their place...so I can smile again. It is more common than I thought, but it is a reason to not be social, and just like being too fat or too hard of hearing without an expensive hearing aid - people have reasons to be less than they might be.

People who sit back and stay at home alone.

Someone said I never talk about women's issues on G News - so I decided I will soon. That's the thing. Being real, how is it really?

I have far too much to say right now, and I can't organise it all...but I thought I'd start with a sketch of the most relaxing time I have had for some time.

Something not seen.

Something not recycled from a news service.

The holiday was never about the things the locals resent in the tourists, nor the resort style BS where people have nothing to say to each other. For me , it was just about some kind of stepping away from the buckets filling up with a 24 hour news cycle of misery and seeing the stuff under the surface...like how beautiful Vicki is...and how we see the world as we are ...not necessarily how it really is.

"It rained a lot", said Vicki as we flew over the island on our way back home, but it was fantastic...just perfect.

Yeah it was ...and it's going to be okay.

Reflections from a poor man's holiday

G