Tuesday, October 14, 2003

Hello from New Zealand!

It's been a while I know, but I haven't had internet and it's been so hard to� ahhh, who am I kidding, I've just been having too much fun and I couldn't be arsed!

So I left byron bay after more days of rain and jumped on a plane bound for Christchurch, which is on the south island of NZ. I'd spoken to Rob and Jess, a couple of my old skool friends from home, and found out that they were staying in Wanaka, a small town in the mountains. They told me that if I got a flight from Christchurch to Queenstown, they'd pick me up from the airport. So eventually I managed to buy this second flight online by pretending to be a Kiwi, and set off to catch my flight in Brisbane.

I landed in Christchurch at 10pm, but my flight didn't leave for Queenstown until 7:15am the next day. I'd read in my lonely planet that the airport closed at night, but I was damned if I was going to pay for a taxi into town and a hostel bed just for a few hours sleep, so I set about finding a good hiding place in the airport in which to build my nest. Unfortunately my trolley seemed to be determined to ruin my silent infiltration of the airport, and kept making a very loud clattering noise, which in the silence of the closed airport seemed deafening. Even when I moved really slowly it still made the same noise! But eventually I found a nice spot in the domestic terminal hidden behind some rows of cleared away seats and set about making myself at home. After about half an hour I was fully settled in with my sleeping bag and blankets and pillow spread out over a row of seats, and I stuck in my headphones and lay down to sleep. Then the cleaners saw me. Within about 5 mins a security lady was stood over me with walkie-talkie in hand. I reluctantly removed my headphones and gave her my best "Is there a problem officer?" look. Luckily she turned out to be very friendly and told me that I could probably get away with sleeping at the far end of the international arrivals hall, so I packed up my nest and headed off with my noisy trolley once more.

In the arrivals hall I found one guy already asleep on the bench, so I squeezed myself on and set about rebuilding my nest. I have to say that it was really quite a comfortable bed. My only complaint was that there was a huge fluorescent bulb directly over my head that kept shining in my eyes, but hey, it was a free bed!

I got up for my flight at 6:15am, and it was still dark. After checking in I went to the cafe and sat drinking coffee looking off into the darkness outside. As the sun slowly came up I was suddenly presented with the most awesome view I've ever seen from an airport caf�. I was completely surrounded by mountains. Bloody huge ones! And they were all snow capped, and the snow was pink. It was bloody marvelous.

Then I got into a rather tiny plane and flew right over these pink mountains (which slowly turned white) all the way to Queenstown. I have to say it was the most enjoyable flight I've ever taken. I arrived in Queenstown at 8am, my friends picked me up at 9, we arrived in Wanaka at 10:15 (after the car overheated coming through the mountains), I had a full set of free hire equipment by 11, and I was snowboarding down a mountain by 12. Not bad eh! We did have a little setback when the car overheated again halfway up Treble Cone (the ski mountain) and we had to hitch the rest of the way, but I think 24 hours between being on a rainy beach in Australia and being up a mountain in NZ with a board strapped to my feet is pretty damn good going.

That was all about 6 days ago, and since then I have been snowboarding for about 4 of the days, mountain biking today, and the remaining day was spent caned, wandering round "Puzzle world", which despite sounding a bit lame, is in fact the coolest "museum type thing" I've ever been to. Rob and Jessie have been ace and I've been so enjoying living in a proper flat and sleeping alone in a room. They are managing a backpackers hostel here and have there own little attached flat. The scenery here is without a doubt the most amazing I have seen anywhere, including the Himalayas in Nepal and India. It's just so diverse, and the colours are so varied and beautiful that everything seems like a painting. An average view goes something like this, starting from the bottom and working up: Green stuff like willow trees and bushes and shit; lake with reflection of the following; greeny browny yellowy bluey hilly mountain type stuff; snowy peaks of aforementioned mountains; blue skies and white clouds. The blue skies bit is kind of every other day, but it doesn't seem to rain for more than one day in a row here�. not like some countries whose names I won't mention�.

So yeah, if you like mountains and breathtaking scenery, come to New Zealand!

So what else has happened to me? Well, I have a gay haircut if that's interesting�. It all started back in Mission beach�..

I was travelling down the East Coast with this rather sexy girl called Alex who I met in mission Beach. We ended up having a bit of a fling, and the day before she left to catch her flight to Melbourne, she offered to cut my hair. She was a hairdresser by the way, if that makes things a little clearer. Now I was quite happy with my hair at the time; it was long and unkempt, and the only "styling" I needed to do after a shower was a vigorous towel dry. But Alex convinced me that she could do wonderful things to it, and I figured "right, if she thinks it looks good, then maybe other incredibly fit girls will also think it looks good, so what have I got to lose?" So I let her loose with her scissors, and she told me that she was going to do something a bit Paul Wellerish, leaving the length but taking off some of the bulk from etc etc� When she had finished I went off to find a mirror and examine my new barnet. I went back to the room and she asked me,

"So what do you think?"

"It's a mullet" I said.

"It's not a mullet!" she said, looking shocked.

"It's longer at the back than it is at the top and sides, that's a mullet" I said.

"It needs some wax!" she said, grabbing a tub of vaseline and smearing it into my hair. "Without wax it will look like a basin cut".

With Vaseline it looked marginally better, but as much as I tried to imagine myself as Paul Weller, I couldn't help seeing myself as Cleetus the slack jawed yokel from the Simpsons��. or any number of German porn stars�.. or any football player from the Mexico 86 World Cup��. There was no avoiding it, I had a mullet. In fact, let me rephrase that, I HAVE a mullet! My god, what have a done! I even bought some styling wax in the hope that it really would transform my basin like mullet into a super cool brit pop barnet, but all it seems to do is give me a greasy mullet��

I have to admit that as the days go by I am less and less shocked by my mullet, after all, it is a part of me, and I suppose I should love it just the same as I love my butt or my fingernails. Maybe, given time, my Mullet will grow on me�.. Hehehehehe, sorry, I couldn't resist it! :)

Ok, better go as the sun is shining and I have a book to read..... seeya!

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