Saturday 1st December
I had heard that the "Maori evening" in Rotorua was uninspiring and commercialized but I decided to go anyway because I really wanted to see some traditional Maori singing and dancing before leaving New Zealand. And I was glad I did. The fake Maori village was obviously designed to receive visitors but it was not overly tacky. On the bus to the village, about twenty minutes out of town, we had to choose a chief, who would then greet the chief of the village! The elected chief was prepped on how he should conduct himself before entering the village. When we arrived he stood alongside three other guys (from three other buses). The purpose of the ritual that followed was to establish whether they had to come to the village in peace or not. As an observer, it was hilarious to watch the genuine intimidation of these four men, as four other, beefier, stronger Maori men appeared, dancing, gesturing, hissing, shouting and getting up in their faces with spears. I think I´d feel pretty intimidated too.
We entered the village and walked around for a bit, listening to the explanations of how life used to be lived (food prepartion, housing etc.) Then we watched some singing and dancing which was very energetic, entertaining and worth the visit.
Then we moved on to the all-you-can-eat buffet, which consisted of mountains of delicious food. Inevitably we consumed more-than-you-can-eat (or should eat) and consequently I could barely move to walk back to the bus. We got our money´s worth!
The bus driver had already threathened to make us sing songs in groups on the way back. It wouldn´t have been so cringe-worthy if he hadn´t insisted on it being a nationalist affair. Everyone was to sing with their fellow countrymen. No-one was enthused with the task so to encourage us he kept repeating that we should be proud of our own countries and told us about two Americans on another bus who, to demonstrate their pride, had requested a two-minute silence "for all those servicemen and women who had lost their lives serving their country in the Iraq war". So in protest, when it came to England´s turn to sing, I joined in with "God save the Queen" but with some alternative lyrics. If I didn´t feel sick enough already, the driver then thought it would be fun to drive round and round in circles singing "She´ll be coming round the mountain". My extremely full stomach was NOT a happy bunny after that. But other than this, the evening was really enjoyable!
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Saturday, December 15, 2007
White water rafting
After Queenstown we stayed in Dunedin and Lake Tekapo and then on our way back to Christchurch we went white water rafting. As someone who swore she would never go anywhere near a white water raft, I somehow found myself sitting in one, on the Rangitata River. I figured with all the extreme sports going on around me, I might as well partake in one. I´m not quite sure what made me go for rafting, as out of all the sports, it´s probably the most dangerous by a long shot. During skydiving and all the varieties of jumps amd activities in which you are suspended up in the air somehow, you are invariably strapped on to something. During rafting, you rely only on yourself, some luck and the skill of the professional rafter steering you around the protruding rocks and agressive currents.
In the first fourty minutes or so we drifted down stream , learning along the way everything we could absorb about rafting before hitting the rapids. I was asked to move to the back of the raft, from my position in the middle. I´m assuming this was due, despite my best efforts, to my lack of upperbody strength, i.e. I was moved to the weak-arse, irrelevant part of the raft, where my impact was marginal. Just as well, as most of my energy was spent on paddling the air and holding on with all my might at the appropriate moments. I was expecting it to be a bit wilder and riskier, to be honest. My team worked well together, which I think made a difference, but during the grade "5" rapids, i.e. the massive, powerful waves and rapids which immerse you totally at several points, all we had to do was hold on for dear life. All the hard work - and it was bloody hard work - was done by the skillful raftsman at the back, telling us all what to do. And in between each rapid, we got out of the raft and looked at what we were up against next. So it was all very controlled. Unlike the reports I heard later, in Peru: 8 deaths in a year and 6 people in the last month, at the same rafting centre. My friends went rafting at this centre in Peru about two weeks ago (I didn´t want to go again so soon - I´m glad I didn´t now!) and were only told this statistic after they finished (all alive). I find this statistic absolutely staggering. The company responsible will presumably continue in this reckless way. Mind boggling.
The rafting centre in New Zealand was run by dudes (the only way to describe these guys!) who made the whole experience all the more enjoyable by their laid back friendliness, their joking, their fun-loving charm and their other general dude-like qualities.
When we arrived back in Christchurch, Briony and I returned to Valentino´s for another dose of orgasmic grub. We couldn´t resist.
In the first fourty minutes or so we drifted down stream , learning along the way everything we could absorb about rafting before hitting the rapids. I was asked to move to the back of the raft, from my position in the middle. I´m assuming this was due, despite my best efforts, to my lack of upperbody strength, i.e. I was moved to the weak-arse, irrelevant part of the raft, where my impact was marginal. Just as well, as most of my energy was spent on paddling the air and holding on with all my might at the appropriate moments. I was expecting it to be a bit wilder and riskier, to be honest. My team worked well together, which I think made a difference, but during the grade "5" rapids, i.e. the massive, powerful waves and rapids which immerse you totally at several points, all we had to do was hold on for dear life. All the hard work - and it was bloody hard work - was done by the skillful raftsman at the back, telling us all what to do. And in between each rapid, we got out of the raft and looked at what we were up against next. So it was all very controlled. Unlike the reports I heard later, in Peru: 8 deaths in a year and 6 people in the last month, at the same rafting centre. My friends went rafting at this centre in Peru about two weeks ago (I didn´t want to go again so soon - I´m glad I didn´t now!) and were only told this statistic after they finished (all alive). I find this statistic absolutely staggering. The company responsible will presumably continue in this reckless way. Mind boggling.
The rafting centre in New Zealand was run by dudes (the only way to describe these guys!) who made the whole experience all the more enjoyable by their laid back friendliness, their joking, their fun-loving charm and their other general dude-like qualities.
When we arrived back in Christchurch, Briony and I returned to Valentino´s for another dose of orgasmic grub. We couldn´t resist.
Queenstown
Queenstown is pretty but the main attraction for most people are the extreme sports that you can do there. Briony did 4 bungy jumps in 2 days, including the ´Nevis´, the highest bungy in NZ (about 143 meteres, I think). It´s immense. Throwing myself off things is not really up my street, so I stood by and took photos and films of all the action. For the last bungy, Briony jumped off backwards and did a matrix style pose, which she was extremenly proud of! We got an amazing photo of it. She was on a high for several days afterwards and randomly span around every now and then saying ¨Matrix. Pow. Pow. Pow. Pow¨.
While we were in Queenstown we also made a day trip to Milford Sound. It was misty which made the landscape even more beautiful, but in hindsight I don´t think the trip was worth it. All in all we spent a total of about 10 hours on a bus for just an hour and a half on the boat. But perhaps I am prejudiced because as soon as I went on deck to see some of the wildlife (penguins, seals) I was hit with a sudden bout of motion sickness and for at least half the time I was sitting with my head down trying not to throw up.
On the last evening we had a lovely meal with a few friends we made along the way. It was a tiny, cosy pub/restaurant, hidden away on a back street, with an open fire and delicious food.
While we were in Queenstown we also made a day trip to Milford Sound. It was misty which made the landscape even more beautiful, but in hindsight I don´t think the trip was worth it. All in all we spent a total of about 10 hours on a bus for just an hour and a half on the boat. But perhaps I am prejudiced because as soon as I went on deck to see some of the wildlife (penguins, seals) I was hit with a sudden bout of motion sickness and for at least half the time I was sitting with my head down trying not to throw up.
On the last evening we had a lovely meal with a few friends we made along the way. It was a tiny, cosy pub/restaurant, hidden away on a back street, with an open fire and delicious food.
Franz Josef
On our first day there we went for a walk to Lake Wombat which was very peaceful and still. We met a disarmingly friendly family from Kentucky sitting by the lake and we talked to them for about half an hour before moving on.
The next day we hiked up the Franz Josef glacier, which was pretty amazing. The most challenging part of the day was trying to get the hiking boots and the special spikey attachments (don´t know the technical term) on to my feet. I was given size 9 spikey attachments instead of size 6 and wondered for sometime why I seemed to be having more trouble than anyone else. In the rushed confusion that followed, I left my mittens ( an essential item) down at the bottom of the glacier. I decided that rushing down the ice to get them, and spending a while trying to locate them, camouflaged on the rocks, and then rushing back up the glacier to join my group was worth the risk, as it would have been miserable without them. The group made quite slow progress up the glacier because it was sunny and the ice was melting. So about every 5 steps, the leader used his pick-axe to hack at the ice, making it safer to walk on.
The glacier was more beautiful to look at when up close and climbing through, and on top of it. A lot of the time it appeared blue, which is doesn´t from afar. At the top of the climb we were walking through clouds which felt a bit strange. Some parts of the glacier were really difficult to get through. A few icy corridors we passed through were so narrow it was almost impossible to squeaze through. We had to shuffle with one foot in front of the other (and if you have anything resembling hips, this is a lot easier said than done). The ice and snow in these narrow areas was softer and more unstable than at other points, so at one stage I was actually moving backwards instead of making progress forward, to get out of the tiny gap as fast as possible, which was a little overwhelming. Being caved in by high walls of ice can be somewhat claustrophobic. The group all made it down in one piece except for one guy who left a small chunk of his leg behind, which he had managed to chip out with one of the spikes on his own boots. Nasty! Also, Briony needed a piss so bad by the end of the day on the ice, that her bladder has actaully weakened. But it was not really possible to go to the toilet on the glacier!
The next day we hiked up the Franz Josef glacier, which was pretty amazing. The most challenging part of the day was trying to get the hiking boots and the special spikey attachments (don´t know the technical term) on to my feet. I was given size 9 spikey attachments instead of size 6 and wondered for sometime why I seemed to be having more trouble than anyone else. In the rushed confusion that followed, I left my mittens ( an essential item) down at the bottom of the glacier. I decided that rushing down the ice to get them, and spending a while trying to locate them, camouflaged on the rocks, and then rushing back up the glacier to join my group was worth the risk, as it would have been miserable without them. The group made quite slow progress up the glacier because it was sunny and the ice was melting. So about every 5 steps, the leader used his pick-axe to hack at the ice, making it safer to walk on.
The glacier was more beautiful to look at when up close and climbing through, and on top of it. A lot of the time it appeared blue, which is doesn´t from afar. At the top of the climb we were walking through clouds which felt a bit strange. Some parts of the glacier were really difficult to get through. A few icy corridors we passed through were so narrow it was almost impossible to squeaze through. We had to shuffle with one foot in front of the other (and if you have anything resembling hips, this is a lot easier said than done). The ice and snow in these narrow areas was softer and more unstable than at other points, so at one stage I was actually moving backwards instead of making progress forward, to get out of the tiny gap as fast as possible, which was a little overwhelming. Being caved in by high walls of ice can be somewhat claustrophobic. The group all made it down in one piece except for one guy who left a small chunk of his leg behind, which he had managed to chip out with one of the spikes on his own boots. Nasty! Also, Briony needed a piss so bad by the end of the day on the ice, that her bladder has actaully weakened. But it was not really possible to go to the toilet on the glacier!
Friday, December 14, 2007
Greymouth
There is not much really going on in this town. The only reason for stopping there was to go to the famous Monteith´s Brewery.
Traveling on the road in NZ is a bit weird for a Londoner. Well, for this Londoner anyway. Nothingness for quite a while and then, low-and-behold, *people*; a little pocket of civilisation! At least, the west coast of the south island is like that.
In the evening we headed down to the brewery and had a tour of the place with a really cool woman who was very enthusisatic about her job. Afterwards, we had tasters of all the different types of Monteith beer. Being a non-beer drinker usually, I was surprised at how much I actually liked some of the beer. Slightly tipsy, we made our way down to the bar to claim our free pint of whichever Monteith brew took our fancy and had a BBQ, a few more drinks, and a dance.
Traveling on the road in NZ is a bit weird for a Londoner. Well, for this Londoner anyway. Nothingness for quite a while and then, low-and-behold, *people*; a little pocket of civilisation! At least, the west coast of the south island is like that.
In the evening we headed down to the brewery and had a tour of the place with a really cool woman who was very enthusisatic about her job. Afterwards, we had tasters of all the different types of Monteith beer. Being a non-beer drinker usually, I was surprised at how much I actually liked some of the beer. Slightly tipsy, we made our way down to the bar to claim our free pint of whichever Monteith brew took our fancy and had a BBQ, a few more drinks, and a dance.
Seals in Kaikoura
Kaikoura is full of adorable fur seals. We stopped off to see a colony. If I remember rightly, fur seals can swim at 30km p.h., which is hard to believe when you see these gorgeous, chubby lumps resting on the rocks. They look so funny when they move on land - like they have a limp and have been indulging in a few beers! I got a bit enthusiastic with my photo taking. I went out on the shore, as close as safely possible, to get some goodens, and the wind swept my new hat clean off my head and straight in the sea. It was extremely blowy. As my hat was brand new, I was not prepared to give up easily on it so I was the last to board the bus, wet and wind-swept.
Kaikoura is also popular for whale-watching. Unfortunately the weather conditions were far too choppy to go out on the water, which was disappointing.
Kaikoura is also popular for whale-watching. Unfortunately the weather conditions were far too choppy to go out on the water, which was disappointing.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Christchurch, NZ
We had to get to Nadi airport in the middle of the night, so a taxi was our only option. We had booked and confirmed a taxi for 4am but 4am came along and no taxi. We had no other way of getting to the airport except for hitch-hiking, which we certainly didn´t fancy at that time of night. Eventually, after walking around the large vicinity of the Beach House for some time, searching for any signs of life, I accidentally came across the security guard, pissed and passed out on a sofa, with his flies open (I spotted him with the help of his own torch, which I had found elsewhere!)
It was impossible to convey the urgency of the situation to him, so instead, I decided to go at his delicate pace, rather than confusing him. I managed to get him to take me to where some of the other staff slept, about half a mile away and we obtained a key for the administrative office and a phone number. Just as we´d put the phone down after being told that the taxi driver´s car had broken down, we heard the sound of wheels on gravel, an hour late. But we still made it to our flight on time!
We flew to Auckland and then about four hours later caught a flight to Christchurch. New Zealand has the most ridiculously rigorous cutoms and immigration checks I have ever experienced. We arrived in Christchurch in the early evening and decided to treat ourselves by eating out. We left our hostel initially to buy some cheap food to cook for dinner and breakfast but ended up going to a delightful Italian restaurant, Valentino´s! And thank fuck we did - it was the most divine Italian food I have EVER tasted. OH. MY. GOD. An orgasm on a plate (or several, in fact). We started with some Bruschetta bread with four different kinds of pesto (mint, sun-dried tomato, basil and pumpkin). And then I had a beautifully perfect pesto spaghetti dish - a bit of an overload on the pesto front, but delicious nonetheless. So good (not for the budget) and well worth it!
Christchurch has an antiquated feel. It is meant to be the most English of the Kiwi towns and I can see why. I don´t know whether it was just our tourist leisure time that gave me this impression but it seems very quiet and slow paced as a city. The following day we went to the cathedral but decided not to go in as we were made to feel uncomfortable by a bishop, or some kind of preist-like person, who indignantly told us not to take photos while a service was taking place but the only sign visible said that photography was allowed. So we moved on and went to The Arts Centre and saw a free art exhibition by a New Zealand artist.
I had leftovers from yesterday´s Italian meal for dinner - still mmmmmm! Then we went to a really nice, old-fashioned cinema and watched a NZ film, partly set in Christchurch, called ´We´re here to help´, based on a real story of a man´s battle with the inland revenue. A missable, not particularly well acted film. We ate far too much chocolate.
It was impossible to convey the urgency of the situation to him, so instead, I decided to go at his delicate pace, rather than confusing him. I managed to get him to take me to where some of the other staff slept, about half a mile away and we obtained a key for the administrative office and a phone number. Just as we´d put the phone down after being told that the taxi driver´s car had broken down, we heard the sound of wheels on gravel, an hour late. But we still made it to our flight on time!
We flew to Auckland and then about four hours later caught a flight to Christchurch. New Zealand has the most ridiculously rigorous cutoms and immigration checks I have ever experienced. We arrived in Christchurch in the early evening and decided to treat ourselves by eating out. We left our hostel initially to buy some cheap food to cook for dinner and breakfast but ended up going to a delightful Italian restaurant, Valentino´s! And thank fuck we did - it was the most divine Italian food I have EVER tasted. OH. MY. GOD. An orgasm on a plate (or several, in fact). We started with some Bruschetta bread with four different kinds of pesto (mint, sun-dried tomato, basil and pumpkin). And then I had a beautifully perfect pesto spaghetti dish - a bit of an overload on the pesto front, but delicious nonetheless. So good (not for the budget) and well worth it!
Christchurch has an antiquated feel. It is meant to be the most English of the Kiwi towns and I can see why. I don´t know whether it was just our tourist leisure time that gave me this impression but it seems very quiet and slow paced as a city. The following day we went to the cathedral but decided not to go in as we were made to feel uncomfortable by a bishop, or some kind of preist-like person, who indignantly told us not to take photos while a service was taking place but the only sign visible said that photography was allowed. So we moved on and went to The Arts Centre and saw a free art exhibition by a New Zealand artist.
I had leftovers from yesterday´s Italian meal for dinner - still mmmmmm! Then we went to a really nice, old-fashioned cinema and watched a NZ film, partly set in Christchurch, called ´We´re here to help´, based on a real story of a man´s battle with the inland revenue. A missable, not particularly well acted film. We ate far too much chocolate.
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