It was an interesting day to say the least. We arrived in the early morning to the cabin but my travel friend somehow gave off negative vibes, which somehow disrupted the spiritual energy of the waterfront property, but somehow my positive energy and the energy from the neighboring traditional Maori house offset everything and we were allowed to stay – however our hosts decided that they needed to intervene and talk sense into the both of us, so we gathered blankets, sat on the porch, held sticks of incense and sat in the cold, staring at the starry night sky waiting for a chance to escape the absurdity. We staying up even later as the hosts started talking to us about how they sacrificed their midnight skinny dipping rejuvenation ritual because spirits asked them to help us, and as we managed to find common ground and bonded, we secured our ride to Wellington the next morning, but they refused to leave until we had spent proper time appreciating the spiritual energy of the lake.
Once on the road, I found irony in how the ladies warned us about dangerous people the night prior while they were directly risking our lives driving high speed, claiming to posses powers that can detect cars and police around corners, while distressing over the phone with what sounded like a suicidal person threatening their life (and her dog’s, too) if they did not return to Wellington by an impossibly early time. We complied like hostages hoping for any chance of escape, and finally found it on the far outskirts of Wellington when the driver prepared plans to purchase feminine medicines for my friend after negotiating more time with her telephone-captor. We wished the driver’s colleague good luck with her psychological well being and then pulled out our cardboard sign and as we walked to a main road, my friend said “that’s the first time I ever encountered people like that”, then a really nice elderly couple picked us up. The husband was en route to the hospital with a severed thumb, but he felt compelled to pick us up and take us to the city. As I headed to the hotel/dorm to drop off my bag, we arranged to rendezvous at Cuba street where she scheduled to meet with a couch surfing host. I was happy to be free, but realized I (the friend, actually) had left my precious special insecticide treated sweater and military grade gloves in the Taupo dryer and I did not want to lose it because I knew some future destinations would be cold.
When being held hostage, be nice, don’t upset them and go with the flow but be alert to Stockholm syndrome and do not identify with your captors.