Ocean Waves, The White Island

My parents are in town. They're staying at the Ocean Waves Motel. I see this motel on my way to work every day, so I gave it a look when scouting out places for them to stay. I think my parents would agree, it didn't disappoint. The views from their second story balcony/patio are amazing. Sometimes breathtaking. Wow. Other times, just mesmerizing. You know how you can stare at a campfire for a long time, and somehow not get tired of it? Like that. The waves crash into the rocks over and over, and you just never get tired of seeing it. Yes, you can see the ocean, and the waves crashing into the rocks from their room. And it's a nice room. We've hung out in there quite a bit, having meals (soup, spaghetti, pizza, desserts), watching movies (Rendition), and playing cards (Scat, Sevens). It's been a really nice base camp for Betsy and I to hang out with my parents, and for them to hang out in New Zealand.

Last weekend we went to The White Island. The White Island is one of New Zealand's two active volcanoes. It's an hour long ferry/boat ride off the coast of Whakatane. ("Wh" is pronounced with the "f" sound; and the "e" on the end is a long "e": Fock-eh-taan-e.) Whakatane is about 100 kilometers south of Mt. Maunganui. My mom and I got a bit seasick on the way out to the island. The waters were pretty rough. When I wasn't seasick, I was sleeping. My gift- the ability to sleep just about anytime, just about anywhere. My mom was fine, chatting away with Betsy, until she got up to use the bathroom. Go figure... Me and Vicki, unflappable in any conditions; except on boats. Or on hilly, windy roads. Or on roller coasters. Or anything that spins. Or drops. Or when we eat anything with milk in it. Or sometimes in airplanes. Or if I'm out in the sun too much. And I can't have too much sugar. And I can't smell. And neither of us have very good eyes, or hearing. Perfect physical specimens. We were born to be astronauts. ...So it was pretty appropriate that being on the White Island was like being on Mars. It had a forbidding landscape; dry, harsh, windswept. There were big piles of yellow deposits, vents of billowing steam, and a huge steaming lake of very acidic water. In fact, this lake, one of the most acidic in the world, has a pH of less than 0! I didn't know this was possible, but apparently it is (I looked it up; pH is a relative scale, not an absolute one, and although not very common, a pH of below zero is quite possible). It was the climax of a very forbidding landscape. Attempts have been made over the years to mine this island, but all have ended in failure and/or tragedy. Now, the island is privately owned. The owner pockets $30/head for every White Island visitor. Good gig for him!

I've been working at Sidetrack Cafe for a couple of months now; I finally got a few shirts to wear to work. They're used. A lot. And I have to return them when I leave, or have the money deducted from my holiday pay. The front of the shirt says "sidetrack cafe", and then below that it says "business award winners". Betsy wants to know, "Why does it say 'winners'?" Along with the shirts, I've also been given a bit more responsibility. Now, sometimes, I man the till. A cappuccino costs $3.50 or $4.50, depending on size. A latte in a glass runs you $4.50, while a latte in a bowl will set you back $5.50. Smoothies, $7. Juice, $5. Eggs, toast, and a side, $13. An extra side, $3.50. Chris' extra wages for increased responsibilities, $0. Chris' reduction in boredom, significant.

14 Links Ave is not working out. We're moving out. We're in the process of looking for a new flat right now. We've looked at 3 places thus far, and haven't been moved to pull the trigger just yet. We'll see. Our reasons? Let's not throw stones in a glass house we're still living in.

Notes to Readers:
1) Comments are appreciated.
2) Sometimes I cannot will myself to proofread.