Day Nineteen – Chasing a Full Circle

Today we have only 150 kilometers to travel to return to the Clarke Homestead, soon to be the Turrell Homestead. I fill up the gas tank in Thames and look for a coffee shop because I am not a pleasant person without a strong morning waker-upper. Kristine will gladly attest to this truth as well may several of you. We stop at what appears to be a busy bakery in a working section of the town and when I notice a young Asian man behind the counter filling display shelves with great looking pastries, I immediately recall Rick’s specific warning many days ago. “During your travels you will stop in many bakeries for coffee and pies. Beware bakeries run by Asians,” he said, “their sweets look great but are inedible. They can work wonders with pork and a deep fryer, but sugary bakery is not their forte.” I’m glad I recalled those words because the bakery DID look great and I WAS tempted. Kris and I settled for a good coffee, (EVERY place in NZ has wonderful coffee. You just have to pay for the second cup) but she needed to drag me by the sleeve to get me away from the deep fried goods counter. Before 8AM this counter was chock full of deep fried chicken parts, deep fried pork chunks, deep fried hot dogs, deep fried spring rolls, deep fried lamb kebobs and several other deep fried un-recognizables. I will ingest ANYTHING deep fried, and this place was nirvana. I could live inside that display counter for a week… well maybe at least a day or two before my arteries congealed.

After nearly three weeks of driving and finding our way effortlessly through this beautiful country with its concise and accurate signage, the last 100 kilometers are the most confusing. Three separate roads with the same designation forced us to guess at the direction we needed to travel. Karma once again guided us directly into the Clarke driveway and Ray came out to greet two tired wanderers. The new house under construction now had walls and a roof and a floor and siding and… oh well you get the idea. It was looking like a real house. It was so real in fact that Rick and Judith along with her folks Ray and Ann had brought a picnic lunch out to it two days prior to our return. Ann fell off one of the steps and broke her arm. I was happy to report to her that the incident was exceptionally good luck because now no accident will ever happen in the finished home. I think the pain killers may have had something to do with her wane smile at my revelation.

Rick, Kris and I returned the rental car to the airport and stopped at the local butchery on the way home and I bought a large leg of lamb for our parting dinner that night. I paid $28 NZ for a piece of meat that would have cost $40 at any major grocery in the States. I thought it a terrific looking piece of meat but also remembered having at least half a dozen conversations in the past three weeks where Kiwis complained bitterly about everything produced in NZ as being of second quality. First quality goods were all exported. After Judith prepared the leg of lamb, I found the Kiwi complaints to be unworthy. It was one of the tastiest and tenderest lamb meals I have ever experienced. That “second” was a serious “first” in my mind. We easily emptied the two special bottles of wine Kris and I had brought from the vineyards and a hard rain drummed us to sleep. Our last full day in New Zealand and the end of one more outstanding day in a continual string of outstanding days. The full circle of this life episode is now nearly closed.