This morning I set out on the road to visit a parishioner whose husband died over the weekend. I mapped out the address on google maps and set off in plenty of time to make it to their house on time. The house would be down this one long, desolate farm road by 23 kilometers. I'm still used to miles. So I set off armed with the postal address, but I noticed that the numbers kept descending, which from my point of view was the wrong way. I figured that once I reached a particular town the numbers would begin to increase again. They didn't. In fact, I was now down in to the 100's when I was supposed to be in the 3,000's. Damn thing was I could not pull over to ask anyone for directions because there was no one to ask. There wasn't even a town until 30 km down the road. Finally, they told me what I knew: I had to turn around. The person giving me directions told me to go back until I reach Pahkita road and then turn around and come back by two houses. I did not have confidence, but it was at least something to try out. The name of the mailbox was the correct surname, but the mailbox number was 1,000 off. As I pulled into the farm, I could tell it was not the right house. With my proverbial tail between my legs, I turned around to head back to the parish. I talked the 30 km back to the intersection near Opunake and I found a postal worker delivering mail by car. She gave me the proper directions - after I come across a particular road, it was the second house on the left. Wonderful. All in all, it was about 3 km from my house. Arghh! I had a nice visit with them.
My visit, however, made me late for visiting priest friends in New Plymouth. Without a mobile phone, I headed north for a 60 km trek. It was a miserable drive because of the driving rain and it was doubtful that I would catch up with these priests because I would be late for lunch. Well, I finally arrived, but could not park near the church because of a large funeral. I was right. Those priests did head out for lunch and so I decided to go to the city's mall and grab a quick bite at the food court. I recalled remarking to myself that here I am in a land where I know no one, and somehow I don't feel alone or lonely. Just then, a woman ascending the escalator waves at me and thanks me for baptizing her niece the other day. What a small world. It was the first time I had been to this city and someone recognizes me.
On the ride home, when I reached Pangarehu, I realized I was almost home. It is odd how a foreign land can feel like home so quickly.
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