I’m on a bus to depart soon to a place called Paihia – pie-HEE-ya. It’s just after 7:30 in the morning, bus is due leave here about 7:45.
And it smells like someone has farted so badly they have shit themselves.
It’s not me or he passenger beside me – Richard, early 20’s, I guess – but whoever let that ripper of a fart blossom on the bus should see their proctologist.
Richard is taking the coach north to Kawakawa (love these town names!) to visit family. He doesn’t like Auckland that much. Too noisy, too busy, too crowded, too expensive. He prefers his hometown. He knows everyone and everything and he likes it like that.
He asked me what part of the States do I come from. When I said I was Canadian, he seemed relieved and embarrassed at the same time. I suggested that when you’re not sure, ask where in Canada they’re from. Americans generally don’t mind being called Canadian.
As we compare notes on what it’s like to be Canadian and New Zealander, he conclude that we are very similar. Especially politically. Politics isn’t a blood sport like in the U.S.
Richard is more interested in civic politics. I like that. I like him, he seems to be a smart and politically astute and active young fellow.
Again, it’s his generation that will be running the world soon enough. The world is going to be just fine.
During a short refreshment break, I watched the interplay as some hairy German dude try his luck with one of the prettier girls on the coach.
She was having none of it. Much to my delight and entertainment, she repeatedly shot him down in flames. He’d become silent, them gather up his courage and try again. Blam-o! Shot down again.
I’ll give the guy credit, though. He tried where others dare not tread.
The coach arrived in Paihia exactly on time. I made my way to the Ala-Moana motel where Lynette, the owner, greeted me as if I was an old friend. They’re like that here. Even the toilet has one of those neat-o “Sanitized for your protection” paper ribbons.
Could have used a little sanitizing on the bus.