Un’ altra giornata.
Ci eravamo lasciati ieri pomeriggio. In quella che era una giornata particolare, di relax. Una volta tanto, qualche coccola.
Prima di cena sono uscito con Rachel, la ragazza irlandese, abbiamo girato un pò la città, in cerca di uno di quei negozi che ti vendono alcolici. Fuori faceva fresco. Non freddo, ma vento. Alla fine l’ abbiamo trovato. Abbiamo preso 4 birre in tutto, due lei, due io. Siamo rientrati. Ho cucinato I miei spaghetti. Veramente un’ impresa. Quel cazzo di tonno alla TAI (pepperoni inside forse..e che altro ?). No salt, and cook the spaghetti divinely know what I mean. In short, something I have prepared. I would say the most that could be achieved with few ingredients. Ah .. for the record, I also had the tomato sauce. I discovered it was open just horrid Ketchup: they pretend to be the sauce, is another.
a beer, then the 'other. She is amazed a lot of my speed in the drinking. Two Heineken for me. Our thoughts turn to those agreed and not won since, thanks to the famous green bottles. Yet it is fate, the night that I could have it, 30 injured in Mestre for the structure to collapse. Patience.
Return to us, I mean not bad
that 'Irish (People of Saving Silverman drinkers) marvels at the speed of alcohol consumption!
We have raised her buttocks and reached a couple of American boys (Arizona) to LAVA, a local city. There was a lot of people. A Maori bouncer nice. Other
around. I tried to talk to everyone. It 'nice to be able to be ironic in English as in Italian.
It was raining outside, we returned to the hostel.
I noticed how far the Americans are very curious for us Italians. The others, except the Europeans, they were not that great interest. Well so far I have not KIWI sembrti so exceptionally concerned. But it does not make a bundle. Will be those which occurred to me. The Maori are a ' else. Very polite, helpful, with a serenity and a unique kindness. Really.
We come today, 22/06.
I wake up early. At 8 am standing. Rachel is going somewhere out of town to see some hot springs. I need to check out.
I decide to give me an 'another session to the SPA before I left Rotorua.
I go there. Very
particular, drizzling. So hot and cold rain. Unique sensations. In
bath, I know two guys Maori. One of them, just feel I'm Italian tells me that it was in Brescia. Find out who is a professional rugby player.
speak of 'Italy. It 'been to Verona. He loves Italian women. Someone (Ed: guess who ..), the replies that are crap, as few alterations on the planet, he laughs ....
I was fine with him, was very friendly, which does not happen often. When leaving the bath, he wants to give me his hand and wishes me the best for this trip. He asks me if I like the country. When he feels that my way of staying affasciani by a people that is not measured according to how old is his story, but how deep are its traditions, I see that it becomes fierce. That 's what I like about them, the pride of a warrior people, who respects them and is immediately accepted, rather well-liked.
So I leave the spa, do a decent breakfast in an Italian bar, the per sentirmi quella skifosa musica di Tiziano Ferro, e prendo un English tea. Guardo gli ultimi souvenir. Riparto.
Sono le 10.30 del mattino. Voglio scendere a SUD. Non so dove, non so per che ora. Vorrei fermarmi quando voglio.
Prendo la motorway 1.
Arrivo dopo un pò a TAUPO. Il più grande lago neozelandese. Sono molto curioso, ma conoscendo un lago come il Garda, non mi stupisco anche se assomiglia a un mare.
La strada è molto bella. Comincia ad esserlo. Colline, saliscendi pianeggianti, dolci.
Un pò di pioggia. Un pò di più. Sempre di più. Si colora il paesaggio lentamente.
Il lago è lì. Molto mosso. Gran vento. Imponente. Onde. Che onde. Sono molte, Il cielo cupo, nuvoloni. Ti si presenta davanti molto impetuoso, diverso da un posto turistico, ma è perchè è inverno.
Percorro la strada che lo costeggia, sempre la motorway 1. Curve dolci, a bordo strada le onde bagnano le spiaggette. Soffia il vento, ancora pioggia. Sono molte curve.
La fotocamera si sputtana letteralmente. Non starà dietro a tutte le foto che sto facendo. Mi dice “errore obiettivo”. Mi devo fermare. Controllo e ricontrollo, Non c’è verso. Fuori uso. In nessun modo funziona. Mi prende quello sconforto tipico che sovviene quando le cose non vanno, e ci tenevi. Non puoi farci un cazzo di nulla. Niente. Rassegnarti. La fortuna è che ho la buona vecchia CANON G3. Che fotocamera. Sempre al mio fianco, da una vita. Tutta my life (do not overdo it, however much). I can not connect to the laptop. Patience. Those are bad pictures, the ones I can do it.
distributed as hard after 20 minutes of discomfort. True. You can not imagine.
ends of the lake.
began to approach Tongariro, a mountainous area, elected to reserve, where nature reigns supreme. Isolated peaks. I should wait for the snow. And yes 'highest mountain' s North Island and should see them.
get there. It will take 40 km landscape absurd. A very articulate way. Isolated. Only. Bars. Yes, they can close for bad weather and snow. Continue pivere time, blowing a gale. I begin to put a strain on the Canon. She is perfect. Not a wrong step. I'm beginning to wonder if it is not by chance that the problem happened to 'other. These things happen to believe it. Yes, sometimes. I
the road. ... And I wonder if something I Succeed? Luckily I have enough fuel, the landscape has enchanted snow-capped mountains to the sides, and this road passes through a kind of boundless prairie. Only reference the 'asphalt of the street. Only. Sola. It's just me. Inside the car. You are overlaps in the 'unthinkable, you're out of everything, without anything, you. The road, and the boundless horizon, vast expanses of bushes. The impetuous mountains, and the gray clouds over the peaks. Photos I've done, but the feelings, those no, non riesci a costringerle in una pellicola, in una scheda.
Ci sono cartelli allucinanti, tipo: “zona di esercitazioni militari, per la vostra sicurezza restate a bordo”. Si incrocia qualche macchina. Ma per lo più ci sono io. In sottofondo due cd, di musica b-side neozelandese, suggerita dal mio amico autostoppista. Stupenda colonna Sonora. Si Sposa col cuore che batte, quando comincia a pensare che “non ti senti sicuro” in un posto come quello.
Si addolcisce il paesaggio, le sbarre, segnano la fine di questa unica strada. Ti sei lasciato alle spalle un pezzo di “nulla”. Che effetto. Che sensazioni.
Da li a poco comincia un paesaggio diverso. Colline. Che splendide colline, Prendi una matita, begins to move slightly and gently on a sheet and Segura The features of this beautiful landscape. Green. Wherever green. Grass, not trees. Put green everywhere and you begin to not stop it. Even in the mirror of the machine. The streams begin. Sheep. It is not easy to say, but they are really a 'hallucination. A lot. A lot. Beautiful. As rocks, presneti in the landscape. Always eating. No, I'll get to experience the landscape. Yes, lucky. Ferme.
begin to integrate myself into this country. My friend the hitchhiker 'he said .. this area is what he likes most of his country. Will be right ... I do not know, I have not seen the rest.
not begin to understand it. I'm surprised before heaven that opens to 'sudden, and that between cloud and cloud, gives way to some sun. You can see a rainbow anywhere. It 'a spell, I have seen more here than in my whole life. I like a world and I stop to photograph someone. Booyah! Necessary seem, to put a package in this unique landscape.
Very few trees, only green. The hills take on strange shapes, some pointed, some isolated panettone, I like to photograph them. I feel inspired.
The shocking thing about all this is a strange feeling that you send. To me it happens in the mountains, the snow, he could not think of anything. A nothing. Here, the same thing, miles and kilometers of road, unable to start reasoning, but only perceive what is around you. Nothing more. I get this feeling will last a few hours. It seems to me absurd, but true. But coming to an end. The hours pass. As if by magic, yawns when I was at the lake are just a memory. Away. I am not exaggerating, it's like I was reborn.
the plan, arrives, some sign of civilization, the first countries, and then the landscape blurs, and although beautiful, becomes monotonous. Less harmonious. However beautiful, but it comes back "to reality." Meanwhile, I ground an 'infinity of the road. My goal is the capital Wellington, at this point only 200 km of road. I make them myself, but first I stop to get gas. I take something to eat. Allotment. Regenerated.
I put music, beautiful! Started getting stories in the mind. And I think what I saw.
Time flies. Wellington is approaching.
get there, with the sunset, even in the dark.
ends' s Highway. There are few exits. Arrival practically right in the middle. But first, I see the sea that separates the two islands. Beautiful, beautiful lit!
Within minutes I find the way to the 'hostel. I stop, I take the bed.
I realize I'm tired, destroyed.
I drink a beer, chat. I begin to cast write this story, while still with his head in the woods.
I read your commenti, mi piacciono moltissimo, e anche se siete lontani mi rendete sereno con le vostre battute.
Ho concluso di scrivere, sono le 22.45 circa. Non avrò foto oggi, per via della macchinetta guasta. Con l’altra, come dicevo, nisba, finchè non trovo una soluzione.
Non so se ci credete. Io si. Sono convinto cioè che oggi doveva andare così, dovevate leggere, non vedere le foto. Vi avrebbero dato una semplicissima immagine superficiale, che non è quella che vorrei trasmettervi con questo racconto.
Spero di esserci, anche in minima parte riuscito. Scrivere non è mai facile, figuriamoci poi a raccontare cose come queste.
Come capirete, il racconto della giornata, ha volutamente I dodged the shit and various gossip. Worth so today.
I did a road crash today. Lots.
But if you earned from this story that I wanted to convey, I'm sure you'll understand when I say that sari ready to go. Now!
soon, New Zealand's all for today.
Andrea.
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