This post is a special one for us. I’m nervous to write it because I’m afraid I can’t begin to catch even a little bit of the magic we experienced in Taranaki, New Zealand. I’m going to try, though.. So here goes.. (sorry, it's a bit long)

The Wanganui River is one of the hundreds of waterways that roll off Mount Tarankai’s 9000 feet. Like them all, the Wanganui winds through fifteen miles of cow paddocks, eventually finding its way to the ocean and feeds the endless supply of Taranaki’s world class waves. The Wanganui is also the river marking the last right-hand turn you make before finding your way to the Brough’s dairy farm… After the river, there’s six sheep on the left, and then their driveway… You pull your Holden Commodore, packed to the roof, slightly mildewy from the earlier monsoon, onto the grass in front… Because you drive on grass here, there’s just that much of it.
Within ten minutes the jokes are on and an invitation to milk the cows is extended. An hour later, the table is set with beef they raised, salad from the garden, parsnips from the neighbor farmer and glasses of milk from the vat out back… Fresh, real, wonderful: An omnivores dilemma hardly exists here.

At the head of the table is Graham, a big bellied, big witted, big hearted farmer, dirty denim jeans and a flannel shirt at all times.

(Graham with the girls)

Opposite him is Linda, this soft spoken, smiley, smart woman who cares about her family and lone travelers like ourselves.Delwyn, their eldest daughter and our ticket to Taranaki, is a feisty and funny legal secretary, a total lover with twinkling eyes, she’s perfectly happy… all the time. Next is Nathan, so cute in his 6’4’’ know-how-to-do-everything-19-year-old-builder sort of way. And then Heidi, who’s just cool and mature for only being 13.

My girls, my Christy, Megan and Lauren make me so proud as (like she has known him for years) Christy asks, “Hey… is it cool if we bake you a cake while you’re at meeting?” And just like that we’ve won them over… huge smiles, a wonderful bible study and one oatmeal apple cake later, you can call yourself family.

Delwyn said she had invited a couple kids over for “tea” on Thursday night, so we decided to at least stay until then, planning on leaving Friday morning (never want to commit to anything, you know..). It’s funny, though, because a “couple” means 25 and “tea” means a mean barbeque, an outright two hour volleyball challenge, and a hard out ping pong tournament. You see, we’ve been practicing-- ping pong, that is-- and in New Zealand, Megan, Christy, Lauren and Danielle ROCK at ping pong. So, of course, when I hit the volleyball out of the court, I justifiy my lack of skill with the claim that if only it was ping pong, “I’d be kicking butt!” and from across the court, Lauren’s got my back: “yeah! Her serve is killer!” Little did we know… There’s a ping pong table in the garage. Perfect. And we’re met with more than a couple, “PROVE IT!”s. So, not only did you adopt a new family, but you also found 25 new best friends, and you feel like you could maybe call the dairy farm home. During dessert, Hilton (the coolest 13 year old EVER) asks, “So, what are you girls up to tomorrow evening?”… “ummm, well… we don’t know…” (Standard, noncommittal answer. For all we know, we could decide to fly back to San Luis). 25 smiles light up across the room, “Perfect! You can come possum bashing with us!”

Clearly. Possum Bashing. Of course.

Take a truck with a trailer, loaded with hay bails and 25 kids bundled up, wearing cleats, carrying baseball bats… throw in a couple spotlights, and you’ve got a possum bashing super TEAM. You see, New Zealand has a problem with possums. A big problem. They aren’t native and they kill native bush. The Department of Conservation pays you to hunt them, encouraging humane disposal of the pests. Apparently, possum bashing is considered humane? Somehow, to our dismay, the energy of the night is contagious and as you’re flying through Lord of the Rings Never Never Land on top of a hay bail and you see a possum’s glowing eyes light up under the spotlight, you YELL and even admire the speeds met by 15 boys flying off the truck… jumping rivers and climbing trees to trap the poor, unwanted creature… as soon as it drops from the tree, bats start swingin’ all around and dead and bloody, the possum is thrown under Megan’s legs in the trailer and we look for more.

What else do you do in Taranaki on a Friday night?

Little did we know, our Friday night would hold much, much more. Delwyn had called that afternoon, “Have you ever ridden motorcross before?” Haha. Danielle? Megan? Lauren? Christy? Motorcross? Actually… it’s against our moral code… it’s a waste of gas, which is not a renewable recourse… but since we are in New Zealand, and we are already about to go possum bashing my answer is: “Nope, never been, but would LOVE to!!"

And that’s how we ended up quading and motor biking through paradise… Paradise being Delwyn’s boyfriend, Justin’s backyard. 1600 acres of native bush stretch out behind their epic house that is perched on top of a hill, looking out to the ocean… Spend a half an hour on the quad winding through gully after gully, soaring green hills, crystal clear streams, roaming cattle, and you don’t even touch a quarter of their land. Acting mostly as spectators, tt was crazy to watch these adrenaline junkies for boys literally fly up the steepest hills and off jumps. It’s crazy just how comfortable and confident they were going so incredibly fast. It felt like we were in (or watching) the X-Games in Never Never Land.

The four of us were giddy. That’s the only word. Giddy. Lauren put it perfectly: “it’s like being that girl in the movies, being swept away by some bad boy on a motorcycle-- never in our life did we think we would find that attractive… but it is, it’s this crazy damsel in distress feeling that comes out. And it feels like you’re flying, like you’re on a rollercoaster… but you’re not strapped in.” Because there’s something just so good about jumping on the front of a Kiwi boys bike, him asking if you want to drive, and then it’s just a green blur as you top off at 150k. And then he does a wheely down the pasture with your feet almost flying over the handle bars, and it’s over. Done. Going to have to buy a bike. And maybe live on a farm. And eat beef more. And… and… Life Is Just Beautiful.

Our smiles were so huge, it was ridiculous.

Adrenaline pumping, we and our new huge friend group chowed some hamburgers, fueling up for those poor lil possums. The boys, our possum-huntin’ hosts, are quintessential Kiwis. At any point, they give any American boy a run for his money. All of em builders, welders, you name it, by the age of 20 they work for themselves and they love it. Tough and incredibly capable, their farm-boy stereotype is carefully balanced by the ever intelligent Kiwi sense of humor-- dry sarcasm veiled behind little smiles and wit you wouldn’t believe. These kiwis can handle anything…

Including cows. We are bumping along, searching for possums, and come across another paddock of dairy cows. The temptation is too high, so when Bayden looks at Justin and asks, “See that brown one?” Justin replies, “Lets go…” and they jump off the truck, sprinting straight towards the herd… Justin grabs the tail of the bull and while being drug, bouncing along, Bayden tackles the cows head, and down it goes. They yell, “Want to ride it?!” And yep, four tackles later, all four American girls had successfully rode a bull. Danielle might have ridden hers into thistles, but it’s cool.

As you can imagine, it as crazy. Maybe insane. And completely magical. Another world. One that we fell in love with, much to our surprise. Riding back to the house, Lauren and I start discussing the logistics of moving here… maybe… we’ll see. Offer upon offer is made to make the move easy and Hilton is probably counting down the days until he can beat me at ping pong again. (Hilton)

The next morning, it’s a laugh as the same crew shows up late to a church function. I mean, we had to milk the cows, I had to go on a surf mission… but maybe it was that we had hunted possums all night. All I know, is that while I sat there eating tea, and tried to ignore Graham’s teasing about the single boys in Taranaki, I felt like I had just gotten barreled or something… It felt good. I felt at home.