The Importance of Being Idle

As first days on the dole go, yesterday was pretty good. How I came to be unemployed for the first time in my working life is the subject of a whole separate blog. But let's just say it was time to move on.

Waking up on a Monday morning knowing that you were not expected to go to work, not today or the following and not on holiday, was a strangely liberating feeling. Free to do what you want to do and go where you want to go. Admittedly that liberating feeling lasted all of two hours and then was quickly replaced with blind panic. What had I done? Was I stupid? Who on earth quits a job without having something else to replace it? How on earth was I going to fill my day? And what about those that stretched out into eternity before my very eyes? Holy crap!

At least the sun was shining. A whole day to fill with something meaningful. The possibilities were endless, as long as it didn't cost too much money. There was only one thing for it. Running.

A quick run around the park wasn't going to do it - that was far too convenient and would be over too quickly. No, I would have to make a bigger gesture than that, something that I couldn't ordinarily do without taking time off work. There was only one thing for it - catch a ferry somewhere and run back towards the city.

So that is how I found myself at the ferry terminal in the city in the middle of the rush hour, but heading in the opposite direction to everyone else. Whilst dozens streamed off the 08:35am Half Moon Bay service, only three of us boarded; me, a retired bloke and a housewife. Not that I know any of this as fact but why let the truth get in the way of a snap judgement. At least now I knew what retired people do with their days - travelling around on public transport, drinking tea and wandering around doesn't seem like a bad way to spend some time. I could get used to that.....except I couldn't. I'm not very good at being idle. Sure I can play at it for an hour or two but it's just not me. And when I do give it a go, I might look like I'm doing very little but inside my mind is whirring. At bit like a duck - all looks pleasantly calm and serene on the surface but underneath my proverbial legs as going like the clappers.

Speaking of which, that is exactly what would be happening in just over ten minutes. Half Moon Bay wharf was quickly approaching which meant that my run back to the city was almost about to start.

It was only after a few minutes of running that I accepted that I wasn't going to make it all the way back to our house. Earlier in the morning I had been flirting with the idea of completing the whole 30km run, albeit at a relatively slow pace, but the effects of the previous day's run and the training session the day before that were making themselves known. Tired legs. Not something that helps when starting a long run.

But what a wonderful day to be out. Although the sun was still low in the sky, there was sufficient heat to make me regret not wearing a lighter top. Nothing I could do about that now, time to press on. The path alongside the bay was relatively quiet with only a few people out walking dogs, pushing prams and generally taking in the fresh almost-spring air. With the tide being out, and particularly low, some boats gently swayed in the breeze whilst others  lay on the sea bed at a jaunty angle, waiting for the tide to come in and put them on an even keel.

It took a good 5km or so for my legs to ease up but once they did I was in my element. Running without a particular timetable and with stunning coastal scenery to help drive me along. There's no better way, or none that I have found, than running to help organise ones thoughts, put things into perspective and illuminate a way through the fog.

Not that there was much fog. Within an hour the temperatures has hit their usual winter mid-teens and I was beginning to regret not bringing any water on the journey, instead opting to use the drinking fountains that were scattered along the route. Expect they weren't where I remember them being and far too spread out. Blast!

I'd like to think that it was the lack of hydration and not lack of fitness that caused me to cut the run short but I rather think it was the latter. Well that, and the fact that I had just passed a very nice looking cafe which oozed home-baked aromas onto the footpath. What the heck, I'd covered nearly 20km and it was getting towards lunch time.....or at least well into the elevenses hour! Coffee and cake it was then.

What a way to spend your life. If every day was like this; a leisurely breakfast, a long run in the sunshine and refreshments at a local cafe I'd be as fit as a fiddle. Who knows what I could achieve. Maybe finally break the four hours for a marathon time, how about an ultra or having a seroious crack at a triathalon? Providing the cake wasn't too large of course. I was just contemplating this when my phone made the all-too-familiar noise. An email had arrived. Ah well, might as well see who on earth can be contacting me at this time. It certainly can't be work related I mused, unless they'd lasted a whole two hours without having to call me to help them out.

Oh! And there before me, on the sun dappled screen was the antidote to my endless leisure time.....a job offer. Ah well. Thank goodness I hadn't gotten too used to this lackadaisical life. The Olympics would have to wait, there was work to do.

Island Time

Well this is a first - writing a blog in the back seat of a car whilst being driven through the countryside of Fiji. Firstly, I must say that I’m really pleased to not be called upon to drive. Having experienced it a few days earlier, driving in Fiji is more akin to Russian roulette than a mode of transport.

If the fact that the roads seem to be made of a series of potholes and patches isn’t enough to make the journey super-exciting, then the randomly placed speed bumps, narrow bridges, wandering livestock, lumbering sugar cane trucks with overhanging loads resulting in suicidal overtaking manoeuvres surely will. It’s an experience that makes you really appreciate the safe driving in New Zealand, relatively speaking that it as regular readers of this blog will know just how I feel about that! It seems that I have been far too hard on the standard of driving in New Zealand. Really Fiji, do you think that a blind bend is really the best place to overtake? Those solid lines down the middle of the road are there for a reason and are not an invitation to put your life, and those of your fellow travellers, at risk. Where are you going that necessitates gaining a few dozen metres by passing before the brow of a hill?

With the passing of each village, some more ramshackle than others but all with bursting with life; people working in the fields, classrooms full of children eager to learn, women washing clothes in the rivers and shops selling all manner of essential items, we edge closer to Nadi airport. It’s slow going as each kilometre is hard-won and I’m not entitelry convinced that I will get there with my internal organs in the same place they were when we left our resort ninety minutes ago. I’m sure it’ll be fine - everything seems to be functioning correctly so far!

We’ve enjoyed another relaxing five days in a coastal resort - the sort of relaxation that only a pacific island can deliver. With each passing day, time seems to slow just that little bit more as timetables and commitments are replaced by a resort routine. And what a routine it is; a swim in the warm ocean followed by a buffet breakfast, lazing by the pool whilst reading a book and allowing time for the food to settle before venturing to the beach for some snorkelling. Another rest and then early afternoon cocktails (complete with ‘stolen’ muffins from the buffet). Just time then for a sleep before more cocktails and then the evening meal. Smashing. That isn’t to say that there’s no variation. Don’t fancy snorkelling?  Well how about kayaking, tennis, pétanque or just a plain old swim? All served under a gentle Fijian sun with a warmth that is neither too cool to make you wish you’d brought a jumper nor feels like it’s trying to rip the skin right off your body. A goldilocks temperature if you like.

The slow pace of life, easy access to food and alcohol has taken it’s toll as the button on my shorts will attest. But it’s been worth it - it’s been a tough few months and a few days in the sunshine and warmth have recharged the batteries. 

But that’s literally behind us. In a few hours we’ll be heading back to New Zealand and landing in the mountain resort of Queenstown. It’s going to be an interesting contrast swapping bright Fijian sun for the darkness of a South Island winter. I might regret only wearing a t-shirt, shorts and sandals but I couldn’t quite bring myself to pull on a pair of jeans and closed-toe shoes just yet. My plan is to tough it out as we only have a short time outside in the cold between the airport buildings and the car rental office. I’ve promised myself not to yelp too loudly about the cold, besides I know exactly where my socks, shoes and padded jacket are should I need them - right next to me in my hand luggage!