As many people once asked of Wally – or Waldo for my few
American readers – so too, have I found a number of people wondering, quite
literally in fact, where on Earth is Matthew Slavin? Well, with renewed
connectivity and a number of emails received all in the same vain, I will reveal
all and explain all that has to be explained.
So let me start by saying a long overdue hello and the
warmest of greetings to all of you who find yourself reading this latest
update. I have been out of communication for far too long and am glad to
announce that the time of silence has passed and the time for continued communication
has returned.
And after that conciliatory salutation, I believe my first
obligation is to answer the many unanswered questions – the first being my
whereabouts. Well, I can announce with large-scale contentedness that after
five months of travelling, I have unpacked my backpack, found permanent
lodgings and have sojourned in Aotearoa’s long white cloud, in New Zealand’s
Southern Alps, in the picturesque, quaint, lakeside town of Wanaka.
And for those of you who want more than that one line
answer, more than the simple where but the what’s, how’s and why’s of my being
here, do read on. I feel it my duty to disclose all, and as we all know, it’s
not completely a selfless task as I always enjoy telling a story or two. So if
you’ll permit me, please let me indulge in recounting the past month’s
obscurity and lead you all into the light of the up-‘til-now opaque. Cue the quivering
translucent haze, xylophonic music and heavily grained, low-pixelated film and
let me take you back one month ago, to where my decisions have brought me now…
quiver, quiver quiver.
I left you all a little more than one month ago today,
spending some much-wanted quality time with Tania, in the heart of Sydney,
Australia. It marked the end of my travels in Australia, with immigration
counting down the days remaining on my visa, and marked a greater transition on
my journeying; from that of care-free, footloose travelling, to a new chapter,
of more concrete permanency, of settlement and much-needed earning. Having
secured a work visa for New Zealand, I started upon job-hunting, leaving my
future up to the fates of chance and my next port of call to be governed by
whomsoever replied to my job application. After a false-start – an offer for a
tree-top adventure leader in Tauranga, requiring an earlier start-date than I
could meet – I received an offer from the town of my first choice, for a
position in hospitality, in the rock-climbing, ski-season and slow-paced haven
of Wanaka, Otago.
And that was about as far as my forethought went. I had
passed through Wanaka several months before and had quickly fallen in love
with its outdoor adventure and relaxed way of life. So that was it. I knew, or
hoped, I would have a job upon arrival and I listened to the winds which drew
me there, believing – although for reasons left unknown – that I had purpose
and reason to make a life in this small mountain town. And it was terrifying.
Exciting, but nonetheless terrifying. I think Bill Bryson said it perfectly on
one of his many travels wherein one finds themselves on the brinks of new
beginnings “in that strangely exhilarating state, in which wonderment,
confusion and trepidation all fight for primacy”. So I jumped into the
proverbial deep, said my farewells to the comforts and security of loving
companionship and embarked upon this chapter of residence, permanency and
independence.
And it all happened so easily. Like all events I’ve
experienced which fit the bill of Bill’s musings, initiation seems to be
strategically flawless in providing the necessary disposition, outlook and
corporeal make-up. As I stepped onto the plane, to cross the Tasman once again,
all emotions of fear, loathing and negativity seemed to remain at my port of
origin, and I was left with a body full of adrenaline, positivity and an
altogether anything-is-possible attitude. And as I said, it all happened so
easily. I arrived in Wanaka on the Sunday, and by the following Saturday, six
days later, had a steady income working at a four ½ star hotel in housekeeping
and waiting (more of that later), a bike for means of transport (meaning I
cycle a minimum 15km a day) and a beautiful house, set in a valley overlooking
towering mountainous peaks, surrounded by 50ft
Autumnal shaded trees, with a flowing river at the bottom of my garden
and double bedroom, which designed with all that in mind, is situated to remind
the occupier every morning of his/her surrounding beauty.
For those of you who have read Paul Coehlo, it would seem, in
his words, that all my ‘luck’ is not so inexplicable but rather my happening
upon the path I’m meant to tread. Haven’t you found that before? That when you
try something and it doesn’t feel right, everything seems to go wrong and you
find yourself, pardon the idiom, paddling up shit creek without a paddle? But
when you find your vocation, your calling, whatever it is that feels right to your
very core, everything, even the impossible, seems regularly feasible, possibly
and so happens with dumbfounding simplicity. Well, that’s what I believe I’ve
found here. I had heard a calling to Wanaka from the first time I passed
through and in acknowledging it, I have happened upon the path I’m meant to
walk and the universe is conspiring to make possible all that is before me.
So the job. Needless to say five months of travelling did
not do wonders for my bank balance and concerns by mid-March were definitely occupied
with financial preoccupations. Thus, my next destination was largely governed
by the security of a job, calculating I had less than a month’s expenses left
in my totalled accounts. But where figures steadily declined, they now are
slowly rising and through hard-graft – and I say that without exaggeration – my
concerns, financial and all other, seem to be lessening to the point of non-existence.
I am now, a Chameleon, working at a luxury resort here in Wanaka. By morning, I
am a grunting cleaner, realising the immense hard-work, speed and efficiency,
it takes to maintain a luxury hotel in the manner to which it is advertised and
by night, I am an elegant waiter, clean-shaven and clad in sombre attire, talking
in quiet tones and saying such things as “but of course, Maddam’ and ‘Right
away, Sir’. So for all intensive purposes, I am a Chameleon, or as I like to
imagine, as I often do through the many hours of origami-ing towels, I am the star
of a new much-loved superman TV spin-off, where by day I fight grime and by
night, change with mystifying speed into my counter-self, don my glasses and
suit and assume my role as a charming server, leaving all wondering ‘who is
this suave and attractive fellow’? Regardless of your thoughts, I enjoy such
imaginings hugely and although I’m sure the series would be extremely short run
and more than likely prematurely cut, I think there’s room for a winning
spin-off somehow.
The work, by day, in reality is extremely hard-work. I’ve
never had to work so physically hard and, adding that to my 15km mountain-bike
commute each day, I’m growing increasingly fit and by most nights, extremely
tired. But the evening shifts are wonderful, and so are too, the 6 a.m.
breakfast shifts, the crowning glory of it all being the location and views the
hotel provides and the colours of the sunrise and sunset, which working on the
lakefront permits. Given my commute in London was a near two-hour journey walking through
suburban aspects and riding the tube, I feel I have hit the jackpot, cycling
each morning and evening along the most beautiful commute the world has to
offer. Here’s but a glimpse of the colours I see each and every day, cycling on
my way to work.
I now have enough money and time to be able to use the
internet, perhaps with the addition of a NZ sim-card for my iPhone – will keep
you posted there – and want to fill the huge void left by having to sacrifice
not speaking to you over the past few weeks. But as I said above, the time for
connectivity has returned and I want nothing more than to catch up with all
that I’ve missed with all of you, and start planning our colossal get-togethers.
So, kia ora all and know that’s the longest period of
silence from me you’ll experience. From now on, you’ll have to endure my
incessant writing, factor me back into your life and work out times where we
can Skype, call and catch up on all that needs to be caught up on.
Sending a whole lot of love,
Your contented friend.
