My sleeping bag, clothes and every surface of the campervan I’m living in feels moist. It’s not an obvious wet that could be mopped up with a towel (if I had one…), but damp to the touch and cold. It’s been raining off and on all day and the air is soupy. I’ve kept the windows and door sealed shut and the only precipitation leaking in is the window sweat.
I don’t mind the rain. It turns New Zealand’s vegetation a luscious green and all the ripe roses drip and sparkle after a shower, but I don’t like the cold that’s accompanied this week’s rain. It’s made sleeping an uncomfortable ordeal, so that when I slide into my sleeping bag I quickly find a comfortable spot and wait for my body heat to warm the section of damp flannel interior. It’s best not to move or else I have to wait for the new patch of fabric to acclimate to my body temperature. Every morning at least one trapped limb is numb from lack of circulation- usually my right arm, which acts as a pillow and leaves an unsightly red indent across the side of my face for the first hour I’m awake.
The campervan is our accommodation for the week while Katie and I are wwoofing with Grant and Claire in Golden Bay. It’s better than sleeping on the ground, but after two weeks of living in a secluded beach house 20 ft from the ocean in a queen-sized bed equipped with a down comforter at Roger and Jude’s in Ngaio Bay, everything feels a bid lackluster.
Our new “home” is “Happy Acres” home of Grant, his two sons, 12-year-old Ananda and 7-year-old Macunda, and his partner Claire. The whole family has dreads and practices emotional freedom of expression, music (Grant is a drum maker and he and Claire play in a west African-style band), art (painting, woodwork and stone carving), and Earth-Centered Celebrations (aka Paganism).
The lifestyle here severely contrasts the life I was living a few days ago.
Here is doesn’t really matter where kitchen equipment goes, or if it is put away at all. Dishes can be left to dry in the rack over night, and cups can rest on the table or countertop for over 24 hours. We eat with as few utensils as possible, bless the meal with an om- like “Yum” while holding hands, and consume mass amounts of sprouts and soy. Eating until your satisfied is the primary etiquette is this vegetarian household.
The property has mountain and ocean views and is about 3 km up the road from the beach (if the sun comes out I will confirm this statement…). It has a healthy number of mosquitoes and sandflies and I have red welts around my exposed feet and ankles. According to Grant if I welcome the bloodsuckers they will become disinterested in me. I prefer immediate gratification and doused myself in deet instead.
Minus my slight disgust at the ants that have overrun the kitchen and my itchy, cold feet, I’m happy and comfortable. Katie and I are free to make our own work schedule so long as we complete the garden chores, so we can wake, sleep, eat and come and go as we please. It’s really nice to feel mostly unmonitored and relaxed around the place.
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Daisyland and Happy Acres come with a straightforward gameplay and both include a lengthy tutorial to boot, which is cool. Once you finish the tutorial section, you can get right into the game. In Daisyland you need to do whatever it takes in order to restore your broken farm to its old glory, whereas in Happy Acres Happy Acres you start with a functional farm and the premise of taking it to amazing success.
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