Hello from Te Puke

Hi there. So, let's see. I'm in Wairoa at the moment, aren't I (or at least that is where my past self is at the moment). You know what I mean. The bakery there was really nice. I had some sausage rolls there (absolutely excellent) as well as an absolutely amazing passion-fruit slice baked thing. I was sitting at the table with this guy who was immaculately dressed in a very nice suit and gold cuff-links who was also indulging in sausage rolls. Apparently I was sitting at the table that he always sat at. I gathered that he was in town because of some local council meeting. Very nice guy. His name was Reae (I think he said it was the Scottish version of "Ray"), but his last name was Maori. He said that his Scottish ancestors were an almost regal clan, and that his Maori family blood were also high up in their tribe. I guess he owned a larger portion of land around the area. Wairoa was nice, but mostly just because it allowed me to recuperate and rest. I spent quite a while walking along the river running through town, and when it rained I just got this sudden reminder that I was on an adventure, and that I was in a strange and exotic place. Not exactly sure what exactly about the rain triggered that. I basically just wandered around a bunch, and walked past the same things twice, maybe three times. The second night I stayed at the creepy motorcamp, I talked to the manager, and asked if they had a discount for people staying more than 1 night. She gave the room to me for NZ$20, which was a bit better to swallow. Eventually, I set off Eastwards from Wairoa. The goal for the day was to get to Mahia Peninsula, which was supposed to be particularly beautiful (and good surfing--not that this was even considered at the moment, as the ocean was still rather cold and inhospitable). It was a fairly nice ride for most of the day, and pretty flat. Eventually I pulled into Mahia around 4pm. I went to the holiday park which was clearly marked with big signs and painted boards, and asked how much for a tent spot. The woman I eventually found said that they were, in fact, completely booked at the moment, with no vacancies--not even for my one-man tent and bicycle! I was rather suspicious at this, as the parking lot was absolutely barren, with only one car in sight. I went looking for somewhere else to park myself for the night, and went into the local "dairy" (small general store) to ask the owner. She said there wasn't any other place to camp, and that in fact the holiday park was changing ownership this very day, and the woman I'd talked to was the apparently rather bitter former owner of the place. The woman who owned the dairy, however, said that I was welcome to camp in the yard behind the store! I immediately took her up on it, and set up my tent. Later on, I bought some meat pies from her for dinner (or "tea", as it is known here), as a sort of "thank you". I went for a walk along the beach, as the tide came in. Aargh, I need to wrap this up at the moment. Maybe I should change the name of this blog (or me in general) to "Perpetually two weeks behind". Hope you're well!
-Ben