Back to the North

Sunday, I ventured out into Christchurch to get a feel for the city. When I looked out my window at 11:00am, the sun was shining in a perfectly blue sky. When I left my hostel at 12, only one hour later, the sun had surrendered to the clouds and a light drizzle fell in the air. I was disappointed because I was looking forward to basking in the sunshine for a change. I still wandered around the city anyway and found an open-air market where I bought roasted cashews that reminded me of the ones I always buy from the street vendors in New York City. After, I made my way to the Botanic Gardens, but I was too cold to wander much farther than the iron gates. Instead of walking back to my hostel, I hopped on one of the old-fashioned trams (my roommate had given me a ticket she wasn’t going to use) and rode it around the city circuit. I actually did find Christchurch with its gardens and parks quite appealing, though most people claim the city doesn’t have much to offer. I probably would have enjoyed it even more if the sun had been shining.

When I got back to the hostel, I decided to give myself an impromptu haircut (sorry Aunt Lucy). I needed one badly but didn’t want to spend the money to get an inch of dead ends cut off. I halved my hair and pinned the top half up and started hacking away with the only scissors I had – my nail scissors. I only cut off about ½ an inch or so and decided to leave it at that. I lost my confidence ¾ of the way through the underneath section so I finished it off and left the top half alone, deciding I probably should put my strands in someone else’s skilled hands. At least it’s not a total disaster; the underneath layers aren’t even visible.

After a long and stressful battle with my travel agent and Air New Zealand, I finally decided to cancel my flight out of Christchurch and postpone leaving for Australia until mid-December. I bought my own ticket from Auckland to Sydney rather than trying to change the one I already had – it came to about the same cost and made it much more convenient for me to fly out. Airlines make it virtually impossible to alter flight plans easily. It’s not like they wouldn’t be able to fill my vacant seat, so I don’t understand why they make it so difficult to postpone a flight. I think they just take joy in saying “no” to the desperate pleas they must hear day in and day out. I planned to head back up to Taupo in central North Island and recharge for a few weeks before jumping into every-other-day-a-new-place travel in Australia. I’m staying with a friend in Taupo, whom I met and traveled with on the North Island, and who is currently working and living there.

I was up at 6am on Monday and traveled for 12 hours to make it to Taupo, my home for the next three weeks, by nighttime. I had to take the ferry across to the North Island, followed by a bus ride from Wellington to Taupo. I tried to sleep on the full-length couch I had snagged in one of the ship’s lounges but could do little more than doze in and out. I couldn’t sleep on the bus either though I had two seats to myself. I usually never fall asleep in moving vehicles; I’ll close my eyes in rest, but hardly ever in sleep. I occupied myself listening to my iPod and reading “The Devil Wears Prada,” a book I had picked up from my hostel’s book exchange in Christchurch.

The rest of my time I spent trying to figure out if the two people sitting diagonally in front of me were two girls or a girl and a guy. I seriously couldn’t tell. Every time I’d decided on a conclusion, he/she would do something to suggest otherwise. Person in question sported long hair (girl) covered by a knit skull cap (boy), a long sleeve t-shirt (either) with a fleece vest (boy), khaki pants (either), chunky black pseudo-bowling shoes (girl), and indeterminate androgynous features – masculine for a girl and feminine for a boy. I think I had decided on girl by the time I got out at my Taupo stop (6 ½ hours later), but I couldn’t be 100% sure short of asking him/her, but obviously that would be insulting, so I decided I was right – it was a girl – and left it at that.

I’m looking forward to my three weeks in Taupo. It’ll give me a chance to relax and unwind and it’ll be nice to semi-unpack my stuff rather than keeping it packed and extracting only what I would need for a day or two. I think it’s important to “settle” somewhere – as much as you can while on the road – once in a while and relax, if only temporarily, and that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Ruminations on Other American Travelers

I met four other Americans staying at my hostel in Christchurch, two of them, surprisingly, from Long Island, one from New Hampshire, and one from Florida. The three girls had been studying abroad in Australia and were now on vacation in New Zealand for ten days before returning home. The 18-year-old boy was on a two-year Australia/New Zealand student exchange program for young adults just out of high school.

When I asked him what he was doing in New Zealand he responded, “Trying to find my place in the world and how I fit.” It was a bit too philosophical and pretentious of an answer for my tastes, but I could respect that. I feel the same way sometimes, but in a quieter way. I don’t need to be overt about my reasons for traveling. I could tell he loved to declare this answer whenever anyone asked.

He inquired about my itinerary so I named the places, in order, where I would be traveling.
“Why aren’t you going to Japan?” he questioned condescendingly as if I had no idea what I was missing.
“Because I chose not to. There are enough places on my itinerary already, and I only wanted to travel to certain parts of Southeast Asia right now,” I answered.
“But why? If I was going to Asia, the place I’d want to go most is Japan,” he replied obnoxiously. Well good thing I’m not you then, I thought but said nothing. “I want to go to China, Korea, and Japan,” he continued.
“Those are a few of the most expensive Asian countries to travel to. If you went to Southeast Asia, you could save yourself some money,” I suggested.
“Money is nothing. It comes and goes,” he responded with a shrug. I wanted so badly to retort, That’s easy for you to say seeing as you’re undoubtedly traveling on daddy’s dollar at the moment, but I just smiled and excused myself. I’d had enough of his idealistic-on-the-verge-of-pompous affirmations. Who did he think he was to tell me where I should be traveling when he was only 18 and fresh out of high school with no experience with which to base his notions? He chose to travel to two of the most westernized-as-close-to-America-as-you-can-get countries he could find and was clearly someone that had no idea what was going on in the world but liked to think that he was above it all. I don’t like when people pretend to know what the world is like when they haven’t actually seen any of it.

He wasn’t very aware of the state of his own country for that matter (which I can appreciate, I’m not the best at keeping up on the news either), but he had no knowledge that the Democrats had essentially taken over politically and said naively, “But the elections aren’t for two more years,” when I responded to his “What’s going on in America?” question with “You missed the elections.”
One of the girls added, “There’s mid-elections for the house and senate.”
“Oh I don’t care about those. They don’t do anything,” he said waving a dismissive hand in the air. Unbeknownst to them, apparently the house and senate are just for show…

It’s people like him that give young American travelers a bad reputation. Foreigners see us as haughty know-it-alls who only believe in one way of living. I have for the most part liked the other Americans I have met along the way and am proud of the country I hail from, but for a brief moment, I saw what people from other countries already see.

Officially a Backpacker

I gave in. I am no longer a “suitcaser” – I have officially joined the ranks of “backpacker.” After days of trying to figure out what to send home, what to keep, how to transport my overpacked suitcase, I decided it would be best just to buy a backpack and send everything home that doesn’t fit. After scouring the Queenstown area and asking salespeople more questions than I can remember, I decided on a 65liter backpack for 120NZD. It was the last one left and on sale. I was so proud of myself for holding out until I found the best deal possible. I have been toting around 5 bags (yes, 5) for the past month and a half. I seem to keep buying more and not getting rid of any.

I arrived in Lake Tekapo yesterday, the halfway point between Queenstown and Christchurch. I figured I’d split the journey in half and hole up in the little town for a night. It poured the entire trip from Queenstown to Lake Tekapo and continued throughout today. The whole town of Lake Tekapo is a strip mall situated along the main highway. To be honest, the place gave me the creeps, and I’m happy that I decided to stay only one night. It seemed to me like an inbred country town where everyone has only two teeth and knows everyone else’s business. Many people stay in Lake Tekapo because of its proximity to Mount Cook, a mountain with supposed beautiful walks and views (don’t they all say that?); otherwise I found no reason at all why someone would want to stay there. The hostel I stayed at was especially strange. The manager behind the reception desk tried to guess my name three times before he even let me ask if they had any dorms available. Only after I shook my head for a third time when he asked, “Amy?” did he let me inquire about a room. I did take a nice walk along the lake last night, once the rain had abated, but I wasn’t sticking around to see any more of the town. I got up early enough this morning and left as soon as possible.

I arrived in Christchurch today after a 3-hour drive. I stopped briefly along the way for a “driver reviver” – free coffee served by a café along the highway. I think that’s a pretty great idea. They help curb the number of drivers who veer off the road or cause accidents from fatigue by serving free wake-up beverages. Seeing as I’m a coffee fiend, I was pleased, even though it was 12pm and I was in no danger of falling asleep at the wheel.

Christchurch seems like a nice enough city but I was advised to spend as little time as possible here. A city is a city is a city (except for New York – I’m biased) and New Zealand isn’t known for its cities, it’s known for its landscapes and small, attractive towns. I drove around the block 7 times before I found a place to park. I found a spot fairly close to my hostel and I’m not planning on moving until I leave Monday morning. Everything in the city center is paid parking, but luckily I’m staying the weekend and parking is free.

I had tried to make it to Christchurch before the post office closed but to no avail. I’ve been lugging around my excess items in huge boxes in the back of my car. I was hoping to send them home today before I proceeded to Picton, where I have to drop off my car, but I guess I’ll just have to send them from Picton before I drop off the car. There’s no way I could transport the boxes otherwise. Besides sending home my stuff, my next order of business was to sell my suitcases. I found a cash converter two blocks away from my hostel that bought both of my suitcases for 40NZD. I was hoping for a bit more, but I had been planning on tossing them in the dump, so any money would have satisfied me. I am slowly beginning the process of unburdening myself of material items so I can travel more lightly. I have more than 6 months of travel ahead of me and I’d like to accomplish it as easily as possible.

Setbacks and Swan Dives

On Sunday I drove to Wanaka with my roommate Chrissi from my hostel at Franz Josef. It was nice to have someone join me on the long boring ride. We stopped at Lake Matheson on the way, a lake known for its mirror-like quality. It was beautiful, and the reflection of the sky, clouds, and trees was so clear in the calm water. We made it to Wanaka in about 4 hours, and I was so happy to drive into sunshine and cloudless skies. Wanaka is a quaint, little town situated on Lake Wanaka and surrounded by snow-capped mountains. We found out from the hostel upon arrival that various church groups in the community were holding a free barbeque, so we made our way there for dinner. Free anything for a backpacker is always good, and it was a nice welcome to the town.

I’ve been having some setbacks as far as the progression of my trip goes so I’ve been in an iffy mood for the past few days and am just now figuring out solutions to my dilemmas. I’m having issues sending home my luggage and postponing my flight. I also strained my neck so I can’t look to the right and have bites all over my arms and neck from, I think, bedbugs as gross as that sounds. So I didn’t feel up to much in Wanaka, albeit there wasn’t much to do anyhow, so I mostly hung at the hostel and took long walks around the lake. I tried to go to Puzzling World, a place apparently renowned for its eccentricity. I drove all the way there only to u-turn in the parking lot and head back. Just the thought of trying to figure out puzzles gave me a headache. I decided not to do any activities that would make me more frustrated than I already was.

Monday night in Wanaka, I went out with a group of people from my hostel. We went to one bar where we were the only people there. Then we went to a second bar where we were the only people there. It seemed to be a theme. Apparently Wanaka’s nightlife is in a slump. There weren’t even any other backpackers out. It was just us and the bartenders, who did their best to make us leave so they could close up shop.

Chrissi, Daniel, and I drove to Queenstown yesterday. There is a whole group of us that has been traveling together since Franz Josef and those of us with cars each took a few people. I really like Queenstown and all of the outdoor, extreme activity hype surrounding it. The city has a really good vibe. It’s too bad that I only have three days to spend here. I booked my bungee jump this morning through my hostel and left for my jump at 1pm. I decided to do the Nevis Bungee, which is 440ft above the Nevis River. I figured if I was only going to do one jump, I might as well do the biggest and the baddest I could find – and the Nevis was it.

As I stood in the lobby of the A.J. Hackett building this afternoon watching the video of other people bungee jumping, I was getting increasingly nervous. I wasn’t scared at all about jumping out of a plane, but was nervous about jumping off a platform suspended by a wire more than 440ft over the Nevis River. The fact that you had to pitch yourself over the edge willingly was what was getting to me. For the skydive, I had relatively no responsibility for hurling myself out of the plane.

It took us 45 minutes just to reach the remote site of the jump, and they had put me second to last so I was able to watch everyone else swan dive off the platform. My fear had waned by the time it was my turn, and I wasn’t nervous in the least as they tied my feet together. Standing on the edge and looking over the platform, however, was a different story. They tell you not to look down and it was the first thing I did. I couldn’t help it. The guide counted down, 3-2-1, and I just stood there looking down. “This is the part where you’re supposed to jump,” he whispered to me. Then I just went for it – threw my arms out to the side and leapt off the platform like a bird taking flight. I felt like a suicidal person jumping off a building, except I was attached to a patented recovery system and my remains wouldn’t have to fished out of the river. I screamed on my way down, probably an expletive of some sort, until the scream caught in my throat and I couldn’t utter a sound. The two seconds right after I jumped, my body seemed to hang in the air until gravity took hold and hurtled me toward the water at 130 km/hr. It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s a strange sensation to fall through the air with nothing to stop you, until of course the cord catches and you bounce upside-down. It was a lot of fun, but it wasn’t what I thought it was going to be. Maybe I’m just desensitized to fear because I didn’t get as much of a rush as I thought I would. In fact, afterwards I was ready for a nap.

Rainy Days

Thursday I had my morning jade carving session. It was quite intensive and hands-on. I had to draw the design I wanted, trace it onto a slab of jade, carve it, sand it, buff it, and polish it. I was at the studio for five hours. I chose to carve a leaf. I was originally going to carve a koru, or Maori spiral, because I like what it symbolizes - new growth and beginnings - but decided against it. Jade spirals are found in every shop in New Zealand, and I wanted something unique. I would have liked to do a NZ fern, but the intricacy and delicate nature of the design would have made for a grueling carving session. I was happy with my leaf though and for only 90NZD, it's a big hunk of genuine NZ jade. In shops, something this size would cost around 150NZD. It's not as professional as the shops, it has a sort of rough, handmade look to it, but that's what makes it mine.

That night I met an American girl, Meredith from D.C., whom I joined for a few drinks with friends of hers. It's so strange traveling because you meet people and become friends so quickly. Friendships made on the road are like shooting stars - a burst that fades quickly. You become fast friends only to utter goodbye the next day or that same night. We may meet up again in Queenstown or Christchurch in a week or so but you never can tell what will happen.

I was supposed to go on the glacier walk on Friday, the main attraction in Franz Josef, but I woke up feeling subpar, probably due to my late night antics, so I postponed the trip until today. I decided throwing up on the glacier wouldn't make for a worthwhile experience. After half a loaf of buttered toast, advil, and some sleep I was feeling better and extremely happy I had postponed - I never would have made the walk. They would have had to slide me down the side of the glacier to get me home.

I ended up hiking the glacier walk today instead. Let me say it ordinarily would have been a great hike, filled with challenging climbs, and beautiful views. But on this particular day it was just a wet, miserable ascent. It rained the entire time we were on the glacier. Sometimes it would stop for a brief moment so I could take a picture, but it would surely start a few minutes later. I had decided to do the full day hike, which I now wish I hadn't, so we left the activity center at 9:30 and didn't return until 5:30. I looked like a drowned rat by the end of the hike. I was completely soaked through as if I had jumped into a pool, and my feet were swimming in my "waterproof" boots. I'm sure the hike would have been fantastic on a bright, sunny day, but all I could focus on today was how much I wished I were elsewhere. The highlight of the day was probably eating lunch in the pouring rain with no shelter - I wouldn't trade that for anything.

To The West

So for the past three days it was Jean, Ron, the horses, and me. I rode them, fed them, tacked them, groomed them, and yes, shoveled their crap – the horses that is, not Jean and Ron. Though I grew accustomed to my own room, fresh coffee, and home-cooked meals during my short stay, it was time for me to leave if I was ever going to see the rest of the south island. I’m happy I took the opportunity to stay at Hanmer Horses though – it was a nice break from the redundancy of dorms and saved me money on food and accommodation. I even grew to like Jean and Ron over the time I was there. It was nice to spend a few days in a home atmosphere; and Jean brewed “real” coffee so that shot her to the top of my list.

Jean and I got along well, and I think I liked Ron mostly because he reminded me of my father – not personality-wise per se, except maybe his sarcasm, but in build, features, and mannerisms. I did enjoy our travel story swap sessions, which we shared over the past few days but found his cynicism and lack of enthusiasm rather discouraging. He actually labeled the Great Wall of China “rubbish.” A landmark of such history and distinction should never be labeled rubbish even if it wasn’t as impressive as you’d imagined it. Ron didn’t seem particularly pleased with many or any of the places he’d seen, which encompassed most of North America, South America, Europe, Asia, and Australia. I did find it inspiring though that disappointment after “bloody” disappointment, from his perspective anyway, he finds the urge to travel again and again. His wanderlust never seems to die with his expectations. Perhaps he’s in search of that perfect, undisturbed, culturally-untarnished haven he can unequivocally label “brilliant.”

Jean and I had a conversation the other day about traveling, and she asked what I’d do when I returned to New York after my travels. I responded that I would be almost 25 after my eight months away and should probably start thinking about heading down a career track. “Oh careers aren’t all they’re cracked up to be,” she said shaking her head. Exactly my sentiments, I thought. “Go out and see the world,” she added. Then she told me about a Dutch family she had met on one of her trips with Ron. A married couple was traveling the world with their four kids in tow. The children didn’t attend school – the parents had taught them to read and write, and they felt that traveling would teach them the skills they’d need to survive in the world. The world was an interactive classroom, if you will. I’ve been thinking about that story a lot lately. Most people would think the couple had a few screws loose, but it really makes you wonder what is in the realm of possibility when it comes to traveling? Is it possible to always keep moving or do you have to stop sometime? And do people only stop because they feel they need to settle down or because they are too weary to go on? We all have instilled ideals as to what course we should follow, but if we never stray from our ideals, will we ever know what else is out there?

I made it to the west coast of the south island today to Hokitika. It was disheartening to leave the finally-blue skies of Hanmer and head towards the gray clouds of Hokitika, but my next few destinations are all on the west coast so I had to be on my way. Since it is now storming and very nearly hailing in Hokitika, I’m basically stranded at the hostel. I’ll just relax today I suppose – I could use a little rest after a few days of manual labor. I booked a jade carving session for the morning and that was all I had really wanted to accomplish in Hokitika anyway so I don’t really mind doing nothing for the day. Sometimes I just enjoy curling up on the couch with a good book when the weather isn’t suitable for anything else.

Home on the Horse Farm

Saturday I decided to check out the Hanmer Springs Thermal Resort. It was very relaxing and had a ton of pools to choose from, but it was so crowded. It was most likely because it was the weekend, but I had to fight for a spot in the hot pool and I nearly fell off my perch several times. The crowds started to thin later at night, but I’d had enough by then and left with them.

I really liked the hostel I was staying at in Hanmer Springs – it was very homey and cozy – but I didn’t particularly like my roommates. One girl who happened to have the bunk above me came in after we’d all turned in, climbed to the top, and tossed and turned for an hour before finally resting. The beds were metal and spring bunks, and she kept me awake the entire time. Then she was up at 7am the next morning (I know because she woke me up) and squirmed around in the bed for half an hour before climbing down. I wondered what on earth she was doing up there?

My other roommate was an older woman. I always think it’s strange when older people stay at hostels. I think why not treat yourself and stay at a hotel or at least if you’re staying at a hostel, splurge and get your own room for an extra $15-20. When I reach a certain age, I’ll be damned if I’m sleeping on a bunk bed in a hostel on my vacation. She had also brought a dog with her who sat with its head in my lap while I ate dinner Saturday night despite my repeated attempts to shoo it away. She made no effort to deter him.

She had assured me, probably after seeing my displeased face, that the dog wouldn’t be in the room at all. Damn right, I thought. I’m not paying to stay at a kennel. However, when I stepped out of the shower yesterday morning, the dog was running around the room. She quickly pulled him outside after seeing me. I think she thought the room was empty. Still, how inconsiderate can you be? Even if I was a dog-lover, which I’m not, I’m sure the owners wouldn’t appreciate dog hair everywhere. So my hostel would have been great if it weren’t for all of the other boarders. Damn people.

I had seen a sign at my hostel for work available in exchange for accommodation and keep at Hanmer Horses. For some reason I have always romanticized the notion of working on a horse farm so I seized this opportunity. I was delighted to learn that there was no minimum stay so I could work as few or as many days as I wanted. I ventured out to Hanmer Horses yesterday and worked for the day in exchange for a room, meals, and free horse rides. I confirmed after one day what I’ve always assumed but this time suppressed – I am just not cut out for the farm. It actually wasn’t the work that bothered me so much – I can do manual labor – it was the incessant sand flies buzzing around my head and attaching themselves to me like leaches. They are the kind of flies that make you want to dive head first into a vat of insect repellent. They made any normal activity difficult and frustrating. As I washed out buckets at the end of day one, I counted at least six flies attached to the wisps of my loose hair. I decided I’d stay and work today and tomorrow and then move on. I probably could have held out longer, but I have less than two weeks in New Zealand and there’s plenty I still want to see on the South Island.

Besides, my hosts, Jean and Ron, are a bit strange. They’ve only been married for 10 years or so, which according to Ron “isn’t very long,” and are both originally from England. I get the feeling that Ron wishes he were elsewhere most of the time, mostly because he flat out said, “Horses are not my thing,” and doesn’t seem to know very well what he’s doing, though they’ve owned this business for years. I don’t think his wife nor Americans are quite his thing either as he made some off-color remarks regarding both. I suppose Jean keeps him around to take care of the hard labor and to refurbish the farm. As a husband, he seems fairly unresponsive, and their interactions, hardly affectionate, were almost painful to witness.

Another thing, the house has no power during the day. I didn’t know this yesterday as I tried turning on the light in the bathroom and ended up having to pee in the dark. Only between 6pm and 10pm is there any electricity in the house. I guess it’s one way of cutting costs.

The Beautiful Outdoors

Thursday, I went whale watching with the company Whale Watch Kaikoura. We saw three sperm whales on the surface. Despite their size, the whales aren’t very easy to spot because they only appear as shiny, gray slivers on the surface of the water. You really only see a hump and water spurting from the blowhole. It was interesting to see but not the most exciting thing in the world. I suppose I thought I’d see the entire whale, even though that wasn’t a very practical assumption. Whales usually don’t rise completely out of the water unless they’re jumping. I did watch the whales dive back under but I still only saw their tails and not much else.

We also spotted dusky dolphins, and they are fun and exciting to see. They came right up to the boat, and as they are very entertaining animals, performed jumps and flips. We were out on the water for almost three hours and that was enough for me. The boat was moving fast through large swells and I started to feel sick by the end of the trip – not exactly like I wanted to throw up but just not right or balanced. My equilibrium was definitely off. I don’t know if my seasickness is now an on-going affliction or a passing one – I hope only passing.

I went swimming with dolphins yesterday, and it was one of the best experiences I’ve had so far while I’ve been in New Zealand. It was absolutely amazing how close they came to me. I think they were as interested in me as I was in them. At first, I was having problems with my mask because water kept seeping in and going up my nose. My guide said it was likely because I was smiling which makes the mask lose suction. I switched masks and from then on kept a straight face when possible, but it’s hard not to crack a smile or break into laughter when a dolphin is swimming right beside you. They were close enough to touch and I could have if they weren’t so quick.

To incite the dolphins to take interest in you, you’re supposed to make noises, swim in circles, and dive underwater. If that doesn’t work, at least the crew is entertained watching you make a fool of yourself. To me, I just sounded like a dying otter but making noises seemed to work majority of the time. One dolphin kept coming back to me and swimming in circles, as if testing me to see if I could keep up. I could tell it was the same one over and over because he had a mark just above one of his eyes. It was amazing to experience the dolphins in their natural environment and watch them that close. They are such beautiful animals, and I feel privileged that I was able to interact with them in such a way.

Laura, my English roommate during my time at Dusky Lodge in Kaikoura, and I had an addition to our room yesterday. Laura and I got along well and it had been just us since Wednesday morning, so I was surprised to see another bag propped against the bed when I returned from breakfast. The new roommate seemed nice enough, though she only spoke three words to me in total, but she stared in the mirror more than anyone I’ve seen. I watched her silently, almost inquisitively throughout the day as she stood in front of the mirror tying and re-tying her ponytail, each time pulling her bangs forward and then standing back in scrutiny. I thought it looked the same each time but apparently she found some flaw and pulled the elastic from its hold to try again. I felt like pointing out that she was staying at a backpacker’s hostel not at some hotel holding a beauty pageant convention. Nobody looks good at a hostel and for the most part no one tries to. I’ve put on makeup once since I’ve been away and that was back in Auckland. I even noticed last night, as I lay in bed listening to music, that she undressed facing the mirror, and for our benefit I’m sure, wore only boy shorts which she pranced around the room in, though her figure isn’t what I’d call svelte. I was in a t-shirt and flannel pants and Laura, likewise. I couldn’t help but laugh and then hide my face in my notebook as if I was reading something funny. After she finished prancing, I watched her clamber to the top bunk and do crunches as she removed her makeup. A mattress isn’t the best surface for back support while crunching, but once again I remained silent. She was a strange duck let me tell you. I decided then that I might start to like staying in dorms, if only to observe everyone else’s strange idiosyncrasies.

I arrived in Hanmer Springs today from Kaikoura. I had planned on only staying one night, but I was so smitten with the adorable, thermal resort town that I decided to stay two nights instead. Maybe it was the beautiful weather illuminating the town in such an appealing way or the fantastic smoked chicken, cranberry, and brie sandwich I had for lunch (which by the way is my new favorite combination that I highly recommend you try), but I’m ready to set up camp here. I’ve decided to hang out today and enjoy the gorgeous spring sun and possibly make my way down to the Hanmer Springs Thermal Resort tonight to dip into the heated mineral pools. Either way I’m carefree at the moment and enjoying my lack of a plan.

Machinery and Mishaps

I arrived in Kaikoura yesterday. The drive from Blenheim was along a coastal highway and was absolutely beautiful. The water was varying shades of blue broken by jagged rocks and boulders. I couldn’t take my eyes off it, which isn’t very conducive to driving. It seems strange to me that water can inspire such awe. We won’t watch water flowing from a faucet but we’ll happily watch waves lapping on a beach for hours.

The hostel I’m staying at is livelier than in Blenheim. I opted to stay in a 4-person dorm, which I don’t usually do. As of yet, I’ve been sticking to singles but as I travel farther south to smaller towns, fewer places offer them. Besides, I figure I should start saving some money by staying in dorms, and I do have the advantage of keeping my valuables in the car rather than in the room. However, after one night I’m already not too keen on dorms. Yeah they are a great price, but privacy is sometimes worth the little extra.

I ended up with the top bunk, which I swear gives me an altitude headache and is the closest to the overhead light so I get hit hard when someone unexpectedly flips the switch. The Swedish girl below me all but threw a tantrum last night when another girl entered the room and started rustling in the dark. The Swede huffed repeatedly, then flew out of bed, switched on the light, and swiftly got back into bed leaving the other girl sitting surprised on the floor. Mind you, the Swedish girl was the only one who had hung towels and blankets around her bed to keep out the light. She should have been the least affected by anyone else entering the room. I think if you’re going to have a hissy fit every time someone makes a little noise, don’t stay in a 4-person room.

I was awoken this morning by my bunk bed vibrating to the lovely sound of jackhammers and drills. They are doing major construction on the road the hostel is situated on and it’s right outside my window. I hear engines rumbling, concrete being split apart, and foremen yelling all day long, which doesn’t make for a very pleasant atmosphere. I wish I had known beforehand – I would have stayed at another hostel. When I arrived yesterday, I asked the receptionist what they were doing out there, gesturing toward the machinery. “Oh I think they’re doing work on the road,” she replied dryly. Thanks Einstein, that was truly a helpful explanation.

This morning two of my roommates left and as soon as the Swedish girl removed her sheets and left the room, I claimed the lower bunk as my own. Rather than transfer sheets and pillowcases, I lugged the entire mattress with sheets, pillow, and duvet off the top and switched it with the one on the bottom. I thought it easier than actually making the bed, something I try to avoid.

I went for a nice two-hour walk today on the peninsula near seal colonies. The first hour was a cliff top walk along the water, which made its way down to the beach and met with an hour-long shoreline walk. It was a great hike, barring a few mishaps. Along the cliff top, I took a wrong turn and ended up in a manure field with cows frolicking around. I thought I was going in the wrong direction but wasn’t sure where the right direction was. Finally, I saw the track and I had to climb over two fences, one barbed, to get to it. Then as I was walking along the shore I was excited to see a seal lying in the water. I whistled at it to get its attention until I realized it wasn’t sleeping or ignoring me – it was dead. I saw part of its flesh had peeled back to reveal jawbone. It must have been there for a long time. Of course the first seal I see up close is dead and decaying. Soon after, I almost stepped on a seal – a live one. I was walking along, concentrating on my footing because the rocks were slippery and wet, and I looked up only because I heard a growl that startled me. A sunbathing seal was only a few feet away. I heard someone laugh behind me and say, “I didn’t think you had seen him.” I turned to see a man readying his camera and thought, Thanks for the warning, ass. “Were you getting ready to take a picture just in case I stepped on him?” I replied. “Would have made for a good one, eh,” he said. Yeah at my expense, I thought but just smirked. He then offered to take my picture with the seal, probably in hopes that it would attack me in which case he’d switch to video, but I thought it was a nice gesture and consented. All in all it was a great walk, and I was happy to get out of my hostel and bask in the sun and fresh air of Kaikoura.

I went to a café for a small lunch after my walk and ended up in this adorable little café with an outdoor seating area overlooking the mountains. When my food arrived I realized I probably should have asked what kind of toasted bagels they served before ordering because the one set before me had toasted pumpkin seeds attached to it. Toasted pumpkin seed is not a normal bagel flavor. I suppose it hadn’t occurred to me to ask because I was just happy to see bagels on the menu. I used to eat a bagel as part of my Sunday morning ritual, but I hadn’t had one in New Zealand yet. I also ordered an iced coffee thinking it might be normal but it was an ice-less frothy drink. Both were decent and I was hungry.

I had the outdoor area to myself until an older woman joined me. I heard her laughing to herself as she read, which is something I do often as I’m now in the middle of a Bill Bryson book, so I looked over to see what she was reading. I caught a glimpse of “Adolph Hitler” in the title. Who laughs out loud while reading a book about Hitler? Definitely strange.