Friday, Dec. 11
Today is our last full day on Waiheke Island.
For the past 48 hours, Matt and I have been soaking up our time by lounging on Palm Beach.
Between tanning and swimming, we’ve discovered that the beaches of New Zealand are very odd in December.
We made the observation from our comfortable sand chairs that Matt built.
First, we watched two kids have a sand-ball fight. They took turns hurling balls of wet sand at each other while ducking behind their seashell-covered bunkers.
The battle was followed by an equally entertaining performance by a handful of 60-plus aged men.
After the seven of them gathered in a strategic circle, they started digging a hole with a pink plastic shovel.
Upon completion, one of them stripped to his undies and got down on his hands and knees to be buried.
A couple of kids threw sand in his face as one of the wives took a photo.
Satisfied with the burial job, the clothed men and children gathered around for a photo.
Their trapped friend was a good sport about the whole thing and even moo’d for the picture.
This particular afternoon was rounded out by a 90-pound hippie who combined yoga with dance moves and gymnastics.
And that was only his warm up.
But for what you ask?
His baton routine.
He eventually began swirling the huge stick that was supposed to be lit on fire. Impressively (yet disappointingly), he didn’t hit a single person.
It was an entertaining day.
Even better when viewed with some cider, beer, chips and a ton of sunscreen.
It’s going to be a wacky Christmas.