Australia oy Oy OY!

Brisbane:

What Can I say about Brisbane: Nothing.
I’m sure there are plenty of incredible things to do there, but I didn’t do them. I did, however, cut open two fingers on two separate occasions on the hostel’s shitty, shitty, piece of shit door. I had issues with that door. So because I found myself injured just hours after arriving in Oz, Brisbane now holds a special, special place in my heart. After 25 years of freak accidents and injuries though, I came prepared with plenty of bandaids and ish. So after getting bandaged I quickly left…but not after putting a curse on Brisbane’s evil door.

Surfers Paradise:
Surfers is just south of Brisbane and happened to be putting on one of the biggest Australian attractions of the year. The Lexmark Indy 300. It’s four days and nights of music, drinking, racing and drinking. I only stayed for a bit…it was ridiculously expensive ($8 for a beer). It pulls in about 250,000 people for one week to see the various races, bands and hot car models. The place was packed with backpackers, rich foreigners, retarded boy racers, and Billy “Beer Gut” Bob Nascar men with Australian accents. Two of these Nascarish guys stayed in my hostel for a night. Except for the subtle accent difference, I could have easily been in “The South Will Rise Again, Alabama.” Beer guts, stinky feet, Chevy Emblem hats and all…it was spooky.

Luckily, the hostel I stayed at had planned party nights that let you bar hop all night by a free chartered bus and every bar gave you atleast one free drink or discounts so you didn’t have to spend a fortune...even though I still did.

Cage Dancing & Sticky Beds:
So, on Wednesday nights the hostel throws their biggest party pub crawl of the week that begins innocently enough at a Neon Bowling alley with free drinks & bowling, then ends at a place called Bedroom(yes, there are beds in the bar…and many of them). Did I mention that the party bus package comes with a complimentary fruit flavored condom, and green stickers for single people?…because it most certainly did. The Bedroom bar was definitely the highlight of the night. There was a cage where slutty drunk girls could dance, I assume for a free drink or something, to the smiling faces of gawking guys and frowning, jealous chubby girls. There were also beds covered in drunk people lining the outside walls…so that was interesting. Oh, and the bartenders were all wearing hot lingerie…so I stayed by the bar most of the time. The bar was basically a strip club without a champagne room or curtained stalls. So, in a word…classy. But it was still a blast and it took most of the next day to recover. Then Thursday night happened…

Am I in a Gay Bar?
Every night of the week a different bar offers specials to the people at my hostel. Thursday was Shooters Bar. Now, remember the whole Indy race thing is going on. So there’s tons of cool cars…which attract guys. Shit tons of guys. Not girls. I didn’t really realize this until I walked into Shooters. It was completely barren of girls, as if someone had changed the “Shooters” bar sign outside to “Have A Good Rape” Bar. So, there’s no girls to dance with or talk to, so a few drunk guys got restless and started dancing on the dance floor…together. This soon escalates to someone grabbing a chair. Then, all of a sudden ,the dance floor turns into a Britney Spears lap dancing video…with only guys. At that point, I looked at my friends and we all had the same expression on our faces… “What the Fuck?” and we all took that as our cue to run for the exits.

The beach was only 2 blocks away, so we had the brilliant idea of getting some cheap drinks at a corner store and heading toward the ocean. Two hours later, with a cheap buzz working its magic, we headed back to Shooters. The uncomfortable gaydom had thankfully ended and miraculously some girls had found the bar. Success.

Cairns
After 3 expensive days in Surfers I headed back to Brisbane to catch a flight up to Cairns and the Great Barrier Reef. Cairns was a nice change. No beach really, unless you consider stork infested muddy marshland a beach. But they had a cool lagoon and everything was cheaper and the food was FREE!

Mad Mad Mondays
I stayed at a rundown hostel called the Asylum. At this point in traveling, I don’t really care how nice the amenities are, as long as the place hosts some kind of party to get all the hostellers hanging out and having a good time(I'm traveling alone and planned activities make it so much easier to meet people). And they did. Mad Mondays. For ten bucks you get a white Asylum Inmate tshirt(that everyone writes ridiculous foreign shit on) free food, free drinks, organized competitions, free entry to bars, and it’s videotaped and then replayed in the hostel’s common area for the remainder of the week. It was such a great deal that I stayed longer and went to two Mad Mondays. At the end of the night, at The Woolshed Bar, they host a Mr. & Mrs. Backpackers. It’s kind of the highlight because someone inevitably strips down while dancing on top of restaurant/bar tables. Did I mention it’s videotaped and replayed? Yeah. So, to many people’s amusement, one drunk Asylum Inmate had her drunken, dancing lumps replayed 24 hours a day for an entire week on the hostel’s common area TV. I can only imagine what kind of pervy back catalogue that hostel has of their countless Mad Mondays.

Sandy Poo
The hostel also acted as an adventure tour booking office as well. So, after a few days of deciding what to book and recovering from Mad Mondays, I picked a day trip to the Great Barrier Reef on board a 20 person sailing yacht called the Falla. The boat had an interesting history that I can’t really remember now, except that they used to throw small Japanese men in weighted suits off the boat to search for pearls and clams. Then later, the boat hit some rocks and started to flood and ended up sinking because a French woman’s exotic lingerie underwear clogged the pump. So, the boat was then dragged 5 miles along the bottom of the ocean floor by a huge tug boat to get it out of the reef.(because it’s illegal to leave it there) The Skipper had all kinds of crazy ish to say. Example: Fish that eat the polyps off coral will end up pooping out ½ ton of new beach sand every year. That’s right, you’re walking on beautiful fish poo.

This Doesn’t Feel Right
I did my first scuba dive during the trip, which is pretty cool. I’d recommend it. Especially if your instructor is a hot English girl. I held a sea cucumber, saw a turtle, scratched myself on the reef a few times (don’t recommend that) and my weight belt decided to fall off and I freaked out 30 feet below the surface. I noticed I was starting to turn sideways, like I was in a plane banking left, and was just able to catch my weight belt in my left hand as it slipped toward the ocean floor. So now I’m twisting left, sinking and frantically waving my right arm, trying to grab the flipper foot of my instructor who is swimming away. Luckily I was able to knick her fins and after she turned around I lifted up the weight belt and pointed with my right hand as my body started now barrel rolling to the right. The whole time, I’m wide eyed, mumbling in inaudible bubble talk. Cool hand Luke, ladies and gentlemen. Thankfully all this happened at the end of the dive, so I didn’t really miss anything and now I have a silly story to tell. The barrel rolling, scared shitless scuba Steve story.

Goon Time Travel
During the week at Asylum I became pals with a group from Sweden and we were all hanging out thinking of what to do when another group of guys said, “Hey, you all want to go to a Bush Party?” Everyone quickly replied, “Hell ya!” before realizing the invite was directed only at the 2 hot Swedish girls in our group…sigh. So the ladies left and we were all sitting around with the “WTF” face when someone said, “Screw it, lets just get 2 boxes of Goon and head to the lagoon.” We wouldn’t have the Swedish eye candy, but damnit if that stopped us from having a good time…or a goon time. What’s Goon you ask? Goon is basically Australian’s cheap box wine, using the term wine very, very loosely. It comes in 4 liter boxes and is about 10% alcoholic goonness. It’s the cheapest thing to drink in Oz and after a few glasses, you forget how aweful it tastes. But you also quickly forget how strong it is because of how smooth it goes down. Trouble ahead. So, we all went to the lagoon and finished off most of the 8 liters of Goon between us… in around 1 hour. Now, I know we went to the Woolshed Bar because I saw pictures later and people told me they saw me there, but of the 6 of us that went out that night…5 of us blacked out. Oh the power of Goon. I awoke from the Goon coma, three or four hours in the future as I was walking back to the hostel. I stopped, drunkenly checked myself and my surroundings and discovered that in my delirium I had lost my glasses and was walking barefoot. Oh the power of Goon. Thankfully I had the foresight to pack my other pair of glasses for the trip, and sandals are pretty cheap to replace. And that was my cue to get my stupid ass out of Cairns.

Whitsunday Islands:

Squeaky Clean
Everyone and their dog will tell you, “You have to see the Whitsunday Islands.” So I did, and it’s pretty freakin amazing. One of the best things I’ve done so far by a long shot. The weather was perfect and we had a great group on the yacht, named The Siska. It held around 20 people and we sailed and island hopped for 3 days. It’s probably worth noting that Whitehaven Beach is in the Whitsundays, and it’s one of the top 5 beaches in the world. The sand there is almost pure silica, so its ridiculously soft and for some reason it doesn’t absorb the sun’s heat, so your feet never burn. NASA even used the sand from Whitehaven to make the lenses for the Hubble Telescope…so it’s kind of a big deal. It does, however, squeak when you walk on it…so if you play an impromptu game of soccer with 16 people, it sounds like you’re on a basketball court…which was pretty cool. Check out my youtube page for a video of Whitehaven.

The Irish Love Their Songs
What made the Siska trip was the fact that 2 Irish guys I had met in Cairns had booked the same trip as me. And, saying that these guys know how to party would just be a gross understatement to them and their level of partying. Neil had convinced himself that since it was going to be his birthday on the first night, that they had to bring a ridiculous amount of booze aboard. So between him and Donie, they had 60 cans of beer and 4 boxes (16 liters) of Goon….for the 3 day and 2 night trip. So they were basically drinking from the moment we boarded the yacht and didn’t stop until we were bused back into town and arrived at Peterpan’s travel company. So they kept the boat rockin basically the whole time. Which meant that if we weren’t playing obscene amounts of Kings(Similar to Ring of Fire or Circle of Death) we were singing Irish & German soccer/drinking songs or taunting/mooning any boat unfortunate enough to come within earshot of us. Yes, there are videos of this. If you've ever been to a wedding party and love it when a 5 year old decides to cut a rug on the dance floor, you'll absolutely love the way Neil dances when he's drunk. So the Whitsundays were amazing, and on the last day Donie got his ass bitten by a sea crab and freaked out thinking it was a jelly fish. I was sitting right next to him on the beach and laughed like an idiot.

Fraser Island:
Another must see is Fraser Island. The largest Sand Island in the world and full of dingos, long strips of unswimmable but beautiful sandy beaches, serene lakes full of tea tree oil, tons of great camping sights, and you get to rent a big 4x4 to get around all of it. It was going to be amazing…then it rained. Non stop. For. Three. Days.

A Wet Irish Craic
It rained when we packed up the 4x4 and didn’t really stop until we unpacked it after returning to mainland a few days later. Luckily, my 10 person group consisted almost entirely of Irish people…including Donie & Neil again, and a ridiculous amount of Goon, ofcourse. And even though my sleeping bag now smells like a wet dog that just won’t get clean…we were determined to make the most of it. Lake McKenzie was definitely the highlight. Even with grey, overcast skies and consistent rain, it was still pretty amazing looking. Crystal blue water surrounded by white beach sand and lush green trees, sprinkled with a few curious dingos, and filled with drunken Irish singers, and me. At one point we were really the only ones in the water, surrounded by about 100 onlookers which included the 3rd place world skating team from Italy. We all clapped and cheered when they decided to get in the lake with us but they soon swam out in fear after Wesley(one of the more belligerent Irish singers in our quartet) decided to talk to them. We laughed, they screamed, and their parents gave us some pretty mean looks…so we stayed in the lake until they all left.

And that’s all I can remember about all that.

Christchurch:

Wow, time flies when you’re working and being a lazy bum. So, I got a job at an agency and have been working/saving for the past 6 months. “Why?” you ask. Well, because I was broke as a joke after 6 months of awesome travel in NZ. And, more importantly, so I could travel for ANOTHER SIX MONTHS! (weeeee)

Here’s the next 6 months in a nutshell:

East Coast of Australia: October 15 – November 22
Singapore: November 22 – 25
Malaysia: November 25 – December 2
Thailand: December 2 – January 2
Laos: January 3 – 17
Vietnam: January 17 – 31
Cambodia: Feb 1 – 20
Bangkok: Feb 20 – 25
Hong Kong: Feb 25 – March 7
Japan: March 7 – April 17
Hawaii: April 18 – May 1
San Diego: May 1 – 8
Denver: May 8 – 19
Dallas: May 19 – 22
Tyler: May 22 – 31
Austin: June 1 – 8

So, if anyone happens to go a little crazy like I did, and you feel like travelin’, you’ll know where I’ll be. Also, I’ve got a paypal account set up at colindecker@gmail.com. So, if anyone wants a cool gift from one of those places, like a handmade thai silk thing, a Japanese manga or a Vietnamese mail order bride, just drop me a line and a few bucks and I’ll mail ya something.

So, with that said, here are a few of the highlights of my 6 months in "JesusChapel" Christchurch New Zealand.

The Kitten Beatings
When I arrived in Christchurch I was broke, so I did a “homestay” while I looked for work. During my brief “homestay,” which involved random housework in exchange for food and accommodation, I got to live in an old, beaten up, 70’s mint green, holey caravan that could barely contain me. It was aptly nicknamed “the caramansion.” In hindsight, the accommodation was completely fitting in exchange for my stellar work abilities. I had to cut reeeeally tall hedges on a rickety ladder with rusty shears, and try my hand at carpentry. I failed miserably at both, and fell a few times from that damn ladder. Luckily I have the reflexes of a slightly retarded cat and was able to walk away without any big injuries. Speaking of cats, the biggest highlight of the homestay was the impromptu 5 Kitten Royal Rumble that took place every day around noon in the living room. The Royal Rumble’s awesomeness was rivaled only by it’s ridiculous amount of cuteness. Especially when one of the kittens would completely blindside the runt kitten. I think the runt was either a little “slow”, or a little blind. Whatever it was, it was alotta hilarious.

OWW, My Eyes! My Eyes!
Then I got a job. At a place called TimeZoneOne. It was cool experience and I got to work on the coolest shoe brand in the world…Crocs...oh yeah, I can feel your envy. Crocs are those neon rubber clogs, that after scarring your eyes, inevitably conjure the single word “why!?” in your mind tank. They’ve recently surpassed Adidas in shoe sales, beaten only by Nike. Crazy, right? How those things happen to sell like high-fructose injected hotcakes to hungry fat kids, I’ll never know. So, I got to work on that brand. High five.

Ice Slides and Penguins, Oh My!
So I got to freelance at the same place for a consistent 6 months. That’s pretty rare, and awesome. Especially since I wasn’t paying taxes(shhh). I also got a few great perks like getting a free tux, free booze and an invite to an awards show that took place next to the Christchurch Antarctic Center. So, after we were all adequately boozed and equally bored from the award presentations, a group of us stormed the Center and laughed at tiny midget blue penguins and had a snowball fight in the sub zero Antarctic Room…in tuxes. I think I can officially say we were the highlight of the 2007 New Zealand Export Awards Show.

Sausage Fest? Yes Please.
Meet James. Aka “Shamus.” A crazy awesome Kiwi guy that also freelanced at TimeZoneOne and randomly decided he was going to make his own Salami. Fast forward three months later to the best sausage fest ever. There were tons of tasty treats, “illegal” imported cheeses, and great crackers and wine. And, to top it off, at the end of the night someone found a full honeyed ham in the fridge. I love me some honeyed ham. Now, I know I could fill this story with tons of sexual innuendo, but I’m quite tired.

And yes, James’ salami was delicious. Albeit a bit earthy.

“Yes, I’ll Take Your Silliest Ass Cushion Please.”
I’m a bit of a winter/snow guy, so I was really looking forward to doing a bit of snowboarding while I traveled NZ. And I did…once, and only once. A buddy of mine, Brett (or “Brit” if you’re in kiwiland…remember, they speak funny) took me to a little place called Mount Lyford. A great little place, especially if you enjoy humiliating injuries. I spent the first hour and a half going down the bunny slopes, making small children feel uber confident in their abilities upon seeing mine. After enough of that, I decided it was time to take on one of the regular slopes. Then my brain and body had a rather short but life altering argument that I assume went something like this:

Brain: “don’t fall. Don’t Fall. DON'T FALL!…”
Body: “Screw you Brain. Weeee!”

And that’s when I broke my ass. It was awesome. You know that little-bitty pointless bone on your butt called the coccyx? Ya know, that one that shows that we either used to have tails at some point in our crazy long evolution, or that God is a git with a twisted sense of humor. Well, I busted the shit out of it. What’s worse is that I realized I still had to get down the slope and to the lifts to get back to the car. And Lyford didn’t have chair lifts. They had T Bar lifts…basically a plastic T that you put in between your legs or behind your butt to pull you up the steep slope. It’s classy. I decided to go with the “behind the butt approach,” that by the top of the slope became the “holding onto the T Bar for dear life with my hands while being embarrassing dragged up the mountain, approach.” Luckily, I was able to push myself to the side and try to save whatever dignity I had left. All I had to do was take off my board and start walking up. But this wasn’t to be. My brain and body had another argument which decided it was best to slip, while one foot was still strapped into the board. Then I flopped, twisted and skidded down the entire lift slope scaring the shit out of the dozens of people behind me and miraculously not hitting any of them or tearing my leg off. A few people had to actually jump over me. All the potential was there for a ridiculous pile up of scared boarders and skiers...but the bastards kept dodging me. I found out later that the coccyx injury had basically taken all the balance and strength out of my legs. So, that injury combined with the use of a T Bar lift is basically the perfect storm to create one of the scariest and most embarrassing things that can ever happen to you…especially if you count carrying around an ass cushion everyday for almost 3 months.

And that’s all I remember about Christchurch.

Now I’m off to “Oz” Australia. Updates hopefully coming every fortnight. That’s right…fortnightly.

The South Island:
Wow…I’ve really put this off. My only excuse is that I’m a lazy bastard. Enjoy.

Picton

Why am I Here?
Picton is the main harbor city that everyone has to come through if you take the ferry over from Wellington. The ferry is massive and tons of them run throughout the day. The ride over was a pretty uneventful 2 hours, but the scenery wasn’t too shabby. I could’ve watched a movie in the Ferry Theatre, but I think it was some kid’s flick. So, you’d think that since everyone has to go through Picton, that it would he a pretty hoppin’ town. It ain't. The main point in staying in Picton is to do the Queen Charlotte’s trek through the Marlborough Sounds. It’s supposed to be amazing…which is why I waited for a week to do it. Yay for rain... So, I got tired of waiting for the weather to clear up and decided to go to Nelson. But, it cleared up on my last day so I decided to take advantage of it…

WINE TOUR NUMERO DOS!
The wine from the Marlborough region is what put NZ on the map a few decades ago, especially the Sauvignon Blanc. I was pretty excited...alright, I was thoroughly aroused. There ended up with a smallish group of Brits, Ozzies and a Scottish Family. This wine tour was like most. Everyone being quiet at first, then by the third or fourth winery everyone was talking to each other and at some point broke into song. All the wineries were pretty good, but Forrest Wines definitely rubbed me the right way. This might have been because the serving girl was really cute and they had the largest selection of wines to try. I’m not really sure how many times I tried the Chenin Blanc, but I ended up buying a bottle as a courtesy to Nicky for serving entirely too much to me for free. So, after the fourth winery, the Scotts started singing and begging to the driver to take us to a small chocolate factory that we saw earlier in the day. The driver was pretty cheeky because he told us he couldn’t, then interestingly chose a winery across the street from the chocolate factory for the last stop. So, everyone was cheering and chanting “CHOCOLATE!” as we left the last winery and preceded to enter the most depressing chocolate factory I’ve ever seen. The place was pretty nice and way overpriced, but they had a few tasting trays which we demolished. Then we noticed that the cooking area was completely in view because they had put floor to ceiling plastic walls in for the customers to see the process. Which is a cool idea…unless all your potential customers see your dead-eyed employees performing mundane, repetitive tasks as their faces tell you “I want to die. Someone please save me!” All I’m saying is that they could have used a little music in there or perhaps a dancing midget with a cute kitten. So, that was kind of a buzz kill to the group. Luckily, one of the Scottish guys had a harmonica and he jammed on it the whole way back into town.

Nelson

What’s Your Name!!?
My next stop was the town of Nelson. I had a friend staying at one of the hostels there and went to hang out before going north to do the Abel Tasman Trek. The hostel was basically a small family house with a few rooms surrounding a pool in their backyard. So it was pretty intimate and laid back. They had 3 funny little kids that continually asked people what their names were when they walked past. I was greeted by this question when I arrived, by the 5 year old son as he was jumping on a trampoline wearing a funny hat with ear covers that constantly flapped at his face as he screamed “What’s your name!?” My friend Mario ended up leaving a few days later, but it continued raining so I stuck around to wait out the weather.

Deported
No no, not me. Before Mario left he told me that Pavel, the guy I picked apples with, that cussed like a sailor, was in town working at a restaurant. So, I called him up and we met up at a pool bar for a drink. He was staying at one of the larger hostels and told me that a few nights before, an old, creepy Pakistani guy had gotten deported because he tried to fool around with an Israeli girl when she was sleeping. Pavel was actually staying in the same room as them when it happened. He had been beat from working all day and completely slept through all the commotion...even when the cops showed up. He finally woke up, cussing of course, when the police came in and started shaking him to wake him up. He continued to tell them to fuck off until his eyes finally focused. Then he smiled and quickly apologized.

Abel Tasman
The Tasman is an incredible 40k+ coastal beach trek that can take you 2-5 days depending on how much you want to enjoy it. I chose to enjoy it over 4 days. There are small campsites and huts almost every 5k, and most of the walk is either under a canopy of trees or along the many beaches, so it’s one of the easiest treks in NZ. It’s beautiful and smooth sailing. Nothing could go wrong, right?

Sandflies, Sunburns and Possums
Before I left for the trek, I had been warned repeatedly by the amount of mosquitoes and sandflies to prepare for. So, I bought the biggest insect repellent spray bottle I could find because I had seen entirely too many examples of travelers who “didn’t know.” It honestly looks like concentrated chicken pox on some people. It’s really sexy. So, the first night I camped the flys greeted me with little pops and trickling sounds on the top of my tent. At first I thought it was sprinkling outside. Turns out it was just a shit-ton of mosquitoes and sandflies jumping around above the mesh part of my tent, underneath the waterproof cover. The creepiest part was watching the mosquitoes walking around, constantly dipping their needle suction things through the small holes in the mesh. Then I got used to the noise, like it was a “soothing sounds of the forest” sleeping machine. The second night I tented, after eating my gourmet dinner of PB&J with a fruit/nut snack, I was awakened by a scratching sound near my head. Not quite as freaky as the laughing children scene in the Blair Witch movie, but still up there because it was a hungry possum trying to eat through my tent mere inches from my face. If you’ve seen the pictures of my tent, it’s basically a tiny waterproof coffin. There’s no quick exit, and if anything else is inside of it, it’s touching me. I was pretty freaked out. Then a guy walked by and flashed a light on it and I saw it’s silhouette…it was big mutha. So I slapped the side of the tent really hard to get it to go away and then spent the rest of the night listening for potentially dangerous sounds like a paranoid junkie desperately in need of a hit. And there were definitely a few crazy sounds that night. It might have been from the large birds that flew around the camp, or maybe 2 possums fighting. But, because of the combination of squeal and death rattling screeches, the only way I can describe it is as if something was raping a pig. Gross right…I slept like a baby. The next day I sunburned my ass and ran out of food. I’m fucking awful at camping. But it was still beautiful and if I ever go back, I’m just going to kayak the crap out it.

Takaka

Marijuana Thinning, Jail Bait and a Flattering Proposition
Takaka was great. Not really the town, its shit and there’s bollocks to do there. The saving grace is the hostel I was staying at called Kiwiana. It had a nice backyard area with a hot tub, BBQ, and hammocks where everyone hung out.(There wasn’t a TV…which was great) There was a pretty eclectic group including another American. A guy from California named Devin that had some pretty crazy stories. He was traveling NZ to trek for a bit before going to Oz(Australia) for his Masters degree. Before he left the States, he was living on a huge farm in northern Cali, thinning mary jane. He basically sat on his ass with a dozen other people and joked around, smoked and watched tv while thinning the buds from the plants. He said he made about $200 a day because he took his time while the fast guys made closer to $500 a day. And this was all legal! You can obtain some kind of license that allows you to grow weed on a set size of land (can’t remember the exact size)…this particular farm had 4 legit licenses and a pretty big crop. Now that’s easy money.

The Mussel Inn is cool pub outside of town that we heard we "had to go to." So, the owner of the hostel arranged for 2 big vans to pick everyone up and take us there. The pub had a cool Celtic/blues band that night as well as some great beers and wines that they brew themselves. The pub also had an incredibly under aged redrunkulous girl that for some reason loved to talk to our group. Her older sister came by and surprised everyone when she said her sister was 15. She took a shine to me for some reason, so a few people from Kiwiana took it upon themselves to exploit this at my expense. At one point she had jumped on my back asking for a piggy back ride. It was funny, but really awkward. I was just waiting for a huge fist to hit me in the face, courtesy of her father. Luckily that never happened and the 2 sisters finally left.

Later on, after the music was wrapping up and we were all about to head out, I received a flattering proposition from an Israeli girl. She asked me straight up if I’d have sex with her that night. At first I thought she was joking. She wasn’t. If I had had any beer in my mouth I probably would have spit it out and done a double take. She was cute too, but her timing was a day late. I had hit it off with a Canadian girl the night before that I was planning on traveling with, so I painfully had to say no. After that we stared at each other awkwardly for a second because I think we both realized that there’s really nothing you can talk about after something like that. So she went to grab her beer at the bar, and I went to grab my Canadian outside. A Texan & an Israeli…sounds like a sitcom.

The Coast with Canadians
I got to know two Canadian girls while at the Kiwiana and found out they were going to travel the coast of the South Island in just under two weeks, looping back up to the top. I just so happened to not have any plans until the big Marlborough Wine Festival, which took place the day after the end their scheduled trip…so I tagged along. It was ahh niiice.

Franz Josef

Crazy Accurate Birds & “Camping”
Franz Josef is a cool small town that exists as a tourist stop to see the Glacier near by. It’s one of the fastest moving in the world, about 2 ft a day I think. When we arrived we decided to camp to save a little money and found a great place that was much more like my kind of camping. There was a small place to pitch a tent, and a large common area that housed an incredible kitchen facility with attached living room and big screen tv with cable tv. It was rough…

After we were set up we decided to walk into town and grab lunch. I was walking in between Jen and Sandy when I felt a sudden tap on my head and a wet feeling dripping down the back of my ear. I looked at the girls thinking they must had done something, but after touching my hair I knew what had happened. I had just been freakin' pooped on. After the girls realized they didn’t get hit, at all, they started laughing. I started laughing too, mainly at the odds of it happening and the fact that I had just put a new shirt on. So far, I’ve been pooped on twice in my life by birds. If “the third time is a charm,” I just hope I’m not under an albatross or some other ginormous bird. The next day we went to see the glacier. It was incredible. Check out the pics.

Invercargill
Invercargill is at the bottom of the South Island. It’s big claim to fame is that Burt Monro lived there. He was the guy Anthony Hopkins played in The World’s Fastest Indian, about the Kiwi that traveled to Utah and broke the land speed record with his motorcycle. Great flick, but a boring town. So with nothing to do, we went to the bar, of course.

Girly Guinness & Crepes
The hostel owner recommended an Irish bar and recommended the Raspberry Guinness. So I ordered it, and the bartender looked at me like I was retarded. Or like I had just ordered an orange mocha frappachino with low fat soy and a little pink umbrella. It’s probably not a drink any self-respecting man would ever order, but Guinness with a scoatch of raspberry liquor is freakin good. So, I enjoyed the hell out of it, knowing I’d probably never order it again. After a few drinks we all went back to the hostel, a little buzzed, and prepared a huge crepe feast that took up most of the dining room table. It was one of those meals that is so good, you can’t stop eating until every bit is gone. And once you finally do stop, it takes all your power not to pass out at the table. I slept like a rock. The next morning we got up and headed to Dunedin.

Dunedin

Harry Potter’s Evil Terrier
Dunedin is great. It’s basically a big, hilly college town with tons of great old cathedrals. It also has a hostel named Hogwartz(spelled wrong b/c of copyright issues) that we stayed at. But, other than the small flags of the different houses(Gryffindor, Slytherin, etc.) the place was a big let down for a “themed hostel.” They did, however, have a small Boston Terrier comprised of pure evil. He almost snagged a few of my fingers with his gnarly teeth when I tried to pet him. I made sure to keep my distance from the ugly hell spawn after that. Maybe it’s just me, but I would think owning a human-hating dog would probably be a poor business decision for someone that worked in the hospitality business.

Chocolate Caked Lungs and Waterfalls
What makes Dunedin particularly awesome is the fact that the Cadbury chocolate factory is in town. And it’s big. We could smell it from a few blocks away. It smelled glorious. So, we booked a tour, even though Sandy happened to be slightly allergic to chocolate. Jen and I are chocolate fiends, so there was no way we were gonna miss a freakin chocolate tour. The main waiting area is pretty kiddy, with lots of little puppets in big explanation kiosks that show the chocolate making process. It was a little freaky actually. But what I found particularly odd was their choice to have little tiny mice puppets poking in and out of the different chocolate making machines. Kinda gross. But hey, maybe they’re an integral part of Cadbury’s delicious flavor.

A little later, our tour guy rounded us all up and handed us small treat bags and hair net covers. I, on the other hand, hadn’t shaved for a few days, so I was lucky enough to sport a huge facemask too. I looked like a surgeon. Then we were off. They didn’t allow cameras in the factory so I’ve got nothing to post, so just imagine a shit-ton of conveyor belts with a shit-ton of chocolate passing all around you. At one point he showed us a huge block of pure chocolate that they send out to bakeries. It was a little larger than the original XBox and weighed about 12 kilos. And, according to the guide, the average American eats over 16 kilos of chocolate a year. To put that in perspective, the average Kiwi eats closer to 5 kilos a year. But don't feel too bad because we still got spanked by the Germans, the French and especially the Swiss (they devour over 22 kilos of chocolate a year.) Roughly the weight of a young midget…or about 50 pounds. At the end of the tour, we were taken into the top of the huge purple silo in the factory. They originally had 3 big white silos full of chocolate and realized that was entirely too much, so they decided to do something cool with it. So they painted it purple, put in a huge spiral staircase and one huge chocolate waterfall that throws down over 1 ton of chocolate in under 20 seconds. It was pretty crazy. You couldn’t stay in there too long though b/c you could actually get sick from the ridiculous amount of pure chocolate in the air. It was so warm and stuffy that we were all told to take huge breaths before going in. The waterfall was totally worth the chocolate caked lungs…and Jen stood too close and got splattered on. It wasn’t quite as bad as bird poop, but I still got a laugh out of it. Then we left the waterfall silo and factory, goodie bags in hand.

Kaikoura
A few days later we were in Kaikoura, a cool coastal town with a big sea life tourism industry. You can go dolphin, albatross, seal and whale watching all in the same small town. Which is why I’ll have to make another trip down there sometime, b/c we decided to chill in the hot tub/sauna/pool area and eat incredible Thai food instead.

The Dog Whisperer & Magic JuJu
After we finished the Thai we met a few Brits and played Asshole with them out on the porch. One of the guys, named Nigel(even he made a joke about how incredibly English his name sounded), was an interesting guy. He’s a volunteer with troubled teens and a dog trainer back home. He told us he was traveling for a month before going home and finishing up his TV show concept. Turns out that Nigel is good friends with Simon Cowell’s brother, and he’s helping him put together the show. Nigel’s idea is to work with troubled teens and teach them his dog training skills in hopes that the kids would become more mature when they were given the responsibility of a dog and then training the bad habits out of it. I thought it was a pretty cool concept. One of those dramatic music, life changing, self improvement shows. When it comes to those kinds of shows though, I think I’d rather tune into a morbidly obese person trying to run up a flight of stairs or deal with the internal struggle of not eating the delicious cookies on the plate in front of them…that’s quality television.

Throughout the trip, one of the Canadian girls, Sandy, had been dropping hints that she could see and experience things that were a little “out there.” I never really pushed her about it b/c I figured she would tell me when she felt like it. Now, Sandy isn’t one of those crazy, hippy carnies that says they can tell you your future or talk to your dead aunt, but she does think she’s got some Medium/Psychic abilities because of the crazy things she’s experienced. What’s interesting to me(and lends a little credibility to her) is that she has a Master’s in Science and realizes how crazy and unbelievable some of her “talents” are. She doesn’t brag about it and actually gets a little weirded out about it. She’s seen dead people, had out of body experiences and can sense things that she really shouldn’t know. One example was when she had gone out of town for a week and upon returning had an overwhelming, horrible feeling that someone close to her had broken up with their partner and had lost someone in their family. She intuitively called one of her best friends and right after asking her how she was, her friend started balling and said her boyfriend broke up with her and her father had died. Crazy shit, right?

Marlborough Sounds

Shit-tons of Jelly Fish & Mussels
We spent the last two nights at a really secluded hostel called Hopewell in the Marlborough Sounds. The main reason we picked it was b/c Patrick, Sandy’s quasi-boyfriend, had gotten a cleaning job there. It also happens to be the number one rated BBH hostel in the country, so I was more than happy to check it out. After arriving I quickly saw why it was #1. It was like a tiny resort rather than a hostel. There’s an incredible hot tub that looks out onto the ocean and islands rear by, as well as a small private beach. Which was cool, until you noticed the dozens of washed up jellyfish. Thankfully they were the harmless kind, but they still felt really weird when they brushed up against you. They looked and felt like clear Jell-O, and interestingly tasted like chicken. Jen was terrified of them though, so we didn’t stay at the beach long. Another cool thing about Hopewell is that every other night the owners cook up mussels for everyone with an assortment of homemade sauces. It reminded me a lot of crawfish broils back home. They laid paper out over the 3 long tables and continued to pour on heaps of mussels as we finished em off. Patrick and the girls were takin em down like champs. I probably had half a dozen but could’t quite get over the texture of them…like I was eating some unknown organ, covered in delicious thai curry sauce. It was great and free, but I’d choose crawfish over mussels any day of the week…especially with the corn and potatoes that have been soaking all day. Mmm.

The last day I was a complete bum and just laid around. The girls laid out and went kayaking, which was tempting, but for some reason my book and a bottle of Rosé sounded choice…especially while looking out over the Sounds. Then Patrick and Sandy said mushy goodbye’s and probably got to know each other “biblically” a few more times…and we headed out. And right on schedule, because the next day was the Marlborough Wine Festival!

Blenheim

How Much Wine Could A Wino Chug If A Wino Could Chug Wine?
Yay for wine! Yay for me! What...the Festival is sold out?! Fuck me…
Yeah, I’m an idiot. I had been looking forward to the festival for over a month and didn’t think to preorder a ticket. It was the first year it’s ever sold out…over 10,000 tickets. So, after sitting at the information site in town, hoping someone would call and have a ticket to sale or some other miracle, I just decided to take the bus to the Festival and figure it out once I got there. So I walked to the nearest bus stop and bought a bus ticket from a soon to be recognized angel. After telling her my woeful story I got up on the bus trying to figure out what I was going to do. Not two minutes later the bus ticket lady stepped onto the bus and said “hey you, come here.” It turns out she had called the other bus pickup stations and had found one extra ticket and was getting it transported to me! Muhahaha! I felt like Charlie when he got his golden ticket. Only instead of winning a chocolate factory tour, I was going to soon be sending my liver on a tour of the entire Marlborough region’s wine selection. Cheers! The guy with my golden ticket showed up a few minutes later, and after thanking the angel ticket lady, I was off.

I arrived around 1pm and the Festival was in full swing. There were over 50 wineries and restaurants set up in booths in a massive rectangle that encircled a huge lawn and concert stage. Because of the wine tour from a few weeks prior, I knew a few of the wineries and where I could find my favorite Chenin Blanc. I went straight to Forrest Wine’s booth, that was sporting a cool M*A*S*H theme. Nicky happened to be working the booth and when I was up she said “Hey, Colin right?” My witty response was a quick “Wow…” b/c I couldn’t believe she had remembered my name. We talked for a bit and she told me to come back to the booth in about an hour when she was getting off. So, I grabbed my glass and began my wine tasting odyssey. Most booths were $3 for a taste, and $5 for a glass, so roughly $2 and $3.50 U.S. I figured that even if I didn’t like the wine, it was only $3.50, so I just ordered full glasses. Then I found a frozen treat. Montana Wines had come up with the brilliant idea of making a Sauvignon Blanc Slushie and…it...was...the...balls. I know what your thinking, and yes…it was just as alcoholic as a normal glass. Then I met back up with Nicky and met her friends from Forrest, as well as her boyfriend(boooo) Scott. But he was cool though. He was a Falconer from Maine. A what?? Yep, a freakin’ Falconer. I met a Falconer. Because of the huge wine industry in the area, the wineries are always on the lookout for anything that can help them obtain a larger and better grape yield. So, instead of netting and sprays, one of the newest ideas is to have trained falcons protecting the areas. It’s still in the early stages, and if it proves successful, Scott could soon be a rich man b/c there are only a handful of Falconers around the world. One of the down sides though, is that if the falcons breed there's a few dangerous weeks out of the year when their chicks hatch. If someone happened to walk into the wrong area of the orchard during that time, they’d have a lot more to worry about than bird droppings.

So we all hung out, tried more wine, listened to the bands and did a little drunken people watching. One couple in particular was…particularly hilarious. They were probably around 21, and had obviously taken full advantage of the festival’s wine menu. She had platinum blonde hair and had made the decision to go with “slutty, goin out on the town” look instead of a more comfortable “hey moron, you’re at an outdoor festival” look. He seemed convinced that they should be making out while also desperately trying to stand up. She seemed convinced of nothing at all. She was off her tits redrunkulous. Then at some point they decided it would be a good idea to sit down and listen to the band, and slowly wobbled their way to a spread eagle sitting position. Did I mention she was wearing an incredibly short skirt? Yeah, we laughed. He tried to make out with her again and I think she gracefully passed out. Then, a few songs later they laboriously stood and staggered out of the festival. We decided to take our leave after that as well and jumped on the next bus back into town.

“Hey, Great BBQ…My Shoulder Just Exploded”
After the festival, the group from Forrest Wines invited me to a BBQ at a friends house. It was laid back and the guy throwing it could really cook and they had no shortage of great wine. Before the sun went down the guys started playing a backyard version of cricket. Now I know nothing about cricket and, like most Americans, I’ve never even held a cricket bat before…a foreboding fact. They invited me to play and went through a quick, rough guide of the rules and handed me the bat. Then the bowler(pitcher) threw the tennis ball and I swung like an idiot…a relatively drunk idiot. In my stupor I didn’t take into account the weight of the bat, so when I took my huge baseball style swing…my left shoulder exploded. Metaphorically of course. Although, that would be one hell of a story. Against better judgment I batted a few more times to save face, then drowned the pain away with more wine and some delicious lamb…after a few attempts of bowling(pitching). Later, a group of us went into town to see a live blues band and finally wrap up the crazy day. I got a ride back to the hostel and fell asleep that night knowing I probably wouldn’t be working the vineyards anytime soon. So, off to the big city of Christchurch to hopefully score a design gig while my shoulder heals.

And that’s all I remember about Picton, Nelson, The Abel Tasman, Takaka, Franz Josef, Invercargill, Dunedin, Kaikoura, The Marlborough Sounds and Blenheim...whew.

Napier:

Free Wine & A Drunken Mum:
I spent a few days in Napier, which is in Hawke’s Bay, a big wine region in the North Island. So, I had to do a wine tour. I booked with Odyssey Tours. Mainly because they had a cool black brochure, but also because Gareth, the tour driver and owner, had spent a few years in the States in Napa Valley and other places around the world. There were about 9 of us altogether, including one family (mom, dad, and daughter) from Montana. We actually met up with them at the first winery because they decided to have lunch and a few drinks at the first winery before jumping on the tour with the rest of us. The mother, probably in her 50’s, was blitzed by the time she even started the tour. Hurrah for free tasting. Anyways, I could tell she was completely gone because every time she stepped into or out of the van, she hit her head on the top of the frame of the sliding door…even though Gareth reminded her of this almost every time we stopped. I tried to keep a tally of how many times she hit it but lost count.

We ended up hitting up 5 wineries and trying god knows how many wines. I tried to keep tabs of which ones I liked but toward the end they all tasted pretty good…although I still haven’t found a red I really like. Call me a puss, but I love me some white wine. That is, until I tried the Rosé at Vidal Winery, which actually sells in the U.S. thought the Villa Maria brand. It was delicious. Gareth told me that Rosé is like the gateway drug for getting into red wine. So, maybe by the time I get home I’ll have moved up to the stronger stuff that is red wine. After the last winery on the tour Gareth told us that Kim Crawford wines (which also sells in the U.S.) has a big picnic/party at their winery on the first Sunday of the month…and guess what day it was?! So after a short vote, he took us to Kim Crawford. There was a pizza company set up, a DJ and at least 1 gaggle of dancing hippies to laugh at, so it was good time. I ended up leaving with a special Sauvignon Blanc that you can only get in NZ that won the Best of the Best at the 2005 NZ wine awards. I tossed it back a few days later at a nice Thai restaurant. It was definitely worth twenty-seven bucks.

The Thirsty Whale & Yes…More Germans:
A girl I had worked with at River Valley Lodge ended up in Napier and we met up at her hostel. She had a group of about 7 Germans with her and they informed me that although Napier has a decent nightlife, “The place to go on the weekends is The Thirsty Whale.” Before we went out we each had a bottle of wine or a few vodka and cokes. The German guys were a riot because they quoted Anchorman for about an hour while we were drinking. I tried to compete with one of them on the amount of one-liners I knew but he had obviously seen that movie entirely too many times and crushed me. After the bottles were empty we took a 15 minute taxi ride outside of town to the completely packed bar. Packed bars aren’t really my thing, so I had a few drinks and quickly forgot all about my bar preferences… as well as my standards in women, but that’s another story. In the end it was a blast and after they closed everyone started trickling outside to hail taxi’s. I met a group of three guys who were unsuccessfully trying to settle their friend who seemed to think he was Ryu or Ken from the Street Fighter video games. He shot a few “Shurikens” at me and then started running around kicking the air, losing his shoe at one point. Once the guys saw that I had my camera on them they tried to do the Haka…that intimidating dance that the NZ Blacks rugby team does at the beginning of their matches. But two of the guys were from England and it came out more like the Macarena. I laughed, shook their hands and jumped into a Taxi.

And that’s all I remember about Napier

Hastings:

Work..what?
So Hastings is basically a small town with a lot of orchards and vineyards. You go there for seasonal work picking or thinning various fruit orchards or harvesting grapes for the wineries. I thought I could use a little extra cash and looked forward to working outside for a few weeks. I lasted about a week and a half. It wasn’t hard. It was just a bit mind numbing. Imagine using the extent of your mental abilities comparing a tiny apple(that your supervisor gives you) to the ones on your row of trees. If you see an apple of the same or smaller size, you take it off. You do this for 8 hours a day. If not for my ipod I probably would have passed out from the complete lack of mental exertion. But I know I’ll end up doing it again because it actually pays really well. Another thing that helped was one of the guys I worked with named Pavel. He was from the Czech Republic and his two favorite words were “Fuck” and “Shit” and he used them like it was his job. Think of the scene in Boondock Saints when Rocco comes into the hotel room after his friends have already killed the Russian mob bosses and starts using fuck in every context. Pavel could “Definitely illustrate the diversity of the word.” Another reason I stopped working was the weather. It started raining off and on the last week I was there, and if you were out at the orchard and it started raining you would have to wait it out for up to an hour sitting in a car. If it stopped raining you would go back to work….on your wet, aluminum ladder. So if it was ever wet when I woke up in the morning, I happily slept in.

Walking To A Door Should Not Be This Funny:
Thomas was a funny guy at the hostel that made the unwise decision to smoke after getting completely wasted. Because of this, he just about lost all motor skills and was continuously swaying while trying to stand. He looked like one of those little wooden bobbing crane knick knacks. What was really funny was that he was somehow coherent enough to know that he couldn’t control his body so you could see how frustrated he was...like his body had fallen asleep and he was just waiting for it to come back. I was lucky enough to get a video of him trying to walk about 15 feet to the door that leaves the main lounge area of the hostel. It took him over 3 minutes to get there and finally open the door. It was easily one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. At the beginning of the video I was standing, but toward then end I was laughing so hard that I was lying on the ground crying and had to prop the camera on the pool table because I couldn’t hold it without shaking. It’s on my youtube page. Please click on the videos link on the right if you enjoy laughing.

Ball Tapping & Sleep Talking:
At the end of my stay I ended up sharing a room with a few English guys that were traveling together. They had met when arriving in NZ and had all gotten a van together. I guess months of cramped quarters can make people really close because I had never seen grown men “Ball Tap” as much as these guys did. And they didn’t just keep it within their circle either. Anyone, anywhere could be “Ball Tapped.” For peoples unaware, this consists of a friendly back-handed tap on a man’s “testes satchel” as Borat would say. It’s always in jest, and to some, it’s a form of saying “Hello.” They also liked the game that consists of slyly pulling out one or both balls through your fly and getting an unsuspecting person to look down at it. If you’ve ever seen the movie “Waiting,” you know what I’m talking about. So, they were a big hit at the hostel.

Now, I’ve been known to sleep talk and sleep walk in my life and luckily the sleep walking has just about stopped. But, on drinking nights, the sleep talking comes back in full force. One of the nights I was sharing a room with the English guys one of them told me that he awoke from a dream to me yelling at him saying “Don’t use that pan!…That won’t work! Use this pan!...You’re gonna burn it!” There was a lot of gibberish and scattered kitchen/cooking terms as well during my sleeping rant, but the weird thing was that Jim’s dream that I awoke him from had been about cooking…
dooo be dooo be dooo.

Stinky-Ass Birds and A Nice Walk:
Sylvia, one of the “old timers” at the hostel, (because she had been there so long) loved getting people together for random things around town. I had wanted to visit Cape Kidnappers on the east cost, so when she was organizing a group I jumped in. We had atleast 12 people visiting the Cape, which consisted of a 10k walk up the beach to where the main nesting area of the Gannet birds. A Gannet is basically a huge, glorified seagull. They have a little yellow on their faces, so they look cooler, but that’s about it. Before getting to the end though, there’s one smaller group you have to go through. As we were walking up to this smaller group one of the girls asked “Hey, are the tops of those rocks limestone or something?” As we got closer, and within smelling distance, she quickly realized they were not limestone at the top. They were “something” though…years of built up bird crap. It was beautiful…I took a few quick pics and kept moving because if you happen to get caught behind one of the bigger rocks where there isn’t any wind, your eyes would start to water. It was another great walk though, but definitely something I don’t feel I’d ever have to do again. Sylvia had done the trip 3 times. Sylvia likes poop.

The Beach, Scottish Santa and Mutton:
Sounds like Christmas right?
I had decided early on that I wanted to spend Xmas somewhere that I knew people, so after my first week at The Rotten Apple Hostel in Hastings, I decided to stay there for the rest of the month. It was a laid back place and since everyone was working the orchards, people stayed longer and you really got to know everyone. Also, there’s shit to do in Hastings at night, so we would all go to the local grocery and buy drinks and spend the nights drinking outside on the deck of the hostel. On Christmas Eve we got a group together and went to the beach. The group wasn’t huge but there were over 8 countries represented. I thought that was pretty cool. We chilled out, drank, played soccer and I threw an American football around. You’d be surprised at the amount of people that have no earthly idea how to throw a football.

After the beach, by the grace of some god, I was able to find a bottle of Crown Royal at one of the liquor stores. And it was somehow even cheaper than in the States! I had a little help, but I polished that off by the morning. It got pretty wild and I ended up with perhaps the best Christmas Day present ever. This present kept me up all night and happened to have been made in Japan. My parents read this, so that’s where that particular story ends. The next morning everyone was pretty haggard, but it was CHISTMAS! So, we all stumbled out to the main lounge area at 9:30am for the Secret Santa gift exchange. Santa happened to be Mick, a Scottish guy with one of the thickest accents I’ve heard that was supposedly speaking English. I think I understand German better than the English he speaks sometimes. If you thought you had trouble understanding parts of the movie Trainspotting, you haven’t met Mick. But, he’s hilarious and came out into the lounge decked out in Santa gear, with a big smile and an open bottle of Tui beer in his hand…at 9:30 in the morning. He was a trooper. As for my gift, I had somehow been destroying people in Texas Holdem the previous 2 weeks, so my Secret Santa got me a deck of cards, chips and dealer chip. After Secret Santa, most of us took much needed naps and then came out to some holiday games before Xmas dinner. One of them, I’ll call Couples, I helped prepare. Everyone has a word on their forehead and you have to find the person that has the ying to your yang. You have to ask people about the word, but they can’t say exactly what it is. My favorite contribution to the game was the couple “Penis and Vagina.” Pavel was the lucky person with “Vagina” taped to his head. I laughed.

Later, the owners told us all to line up for dinner and we made our way into the kitchen and got fed cafeteria style as we circled around the huge island in the kitchen center. My NZ Xmas dinner consisted of Mutton(adult sheep), chicken, gravy, mixed veggies, potatoes and potato salad, cous cous, and a fruit salad with ice cream. It was a far cry from my Ham, stuffing with cranberry, and pumpkin pie in Xmas pasts, but it was great. I had tried to find a pumpkin pie in town a few days before, but the girls in the bakery at the grocer looked at me like I was crazy. I couldn’t even find the mix for it to make it myself. For those who don’t know me really, really well…pumpkin pie is like crack to me. It’s like I was born a pumpkin pie crack baby. So, other than the incessant scratching and sleepless cold-sweat nights from pumpkin pie holiday withdrawals, Xmas in NZ was fantastic.

And that’s all I remember about Hastings.


Wellington:

It’s Austin…kind of:
Wellington is the Capital of NZ, at the southern tip of the North Island. It’s said to be one of the windiest cities in the world, and I believe it. It’s also the “cultural capital” of NZ. You can easily see this from the diversity of people(goth, gangsta, emo, capitalists, and hippies) and the overwhelming number of café’s and clothing shops. There are a decent number of advertising shops in Wellington so I had told myself that I was going to get a flat and search for some freelance work for a couple months. I even called up some people about a room and sent in a few resumes. Then I realized that I’d be spending my summer months in Wellington…the beachless, windiest city in NZ. So, I grabbed the next ferry to the South Island in search of beaches. But, before that I partied a bit and had a one great New Years.

20% Off Vibrators & Burger King:
A friend of mine from the Rotten Apple, German Dave, was spending the week in Wellington with Thomas (the walker) and Fabian at a friends flat. We all met up at a café before figuring out what we’d do that night. They were staying with 2 designers named Benjamin and Lili. Oh yeah…all these guys were German in case you were wondering. By the way, anyone that is reading this that happens to know Scott Louis…I’ve found his German twin. Check out the pics. Anyways, we all decided to walk around a bit and up Cuba Street, where a lot of the cool shops and a few bars where. As we were walking I happened to notice a HUGE two-sided neon green sign on the ground. It let all passers by know that they were having a huge 20% OFF VIBRATORS sale next door. Normally I would just give it a small laugh under my breath, but I found it particularly funny because there was a small children’s playground just a few feet away.

We ended up all heading home and decided to meet later that night at one of the Irish bars. I had met a cool English girl from my room at the hostel and invited her out and we met up with her friends later that were visiting from Liverpool. So we ended up having a pretty big group later on in the night. The regular insued…we drank and bar hopped and had a great time. Thomas got kicked out of atleast 1 bar. He tried to order a drink and only answered the bartender in slurred German, so he was cut off. After he tried to argue…still in German, the bartender had him showed out. Then we got hungry and headed to Burger King. German Dave can hold his liquor and is always a blast. The other guys, however, seem to always go far and beyond their limits, and German Dave loves to mess with them in this state. When we walked up to the counter in Burger King, there wasn’t a cashier waiting, so Dave somehow led Thomas to believe that he could place his order through the credit card slider. It happened to be on a curly, black ,rubber coated wire similar to a house phone, so Thomas grabbed it and pulled it to his ear and placed his order(there's pics). Dave and I were cracking up. But, for some reason the Burger King cashier, who later walked up while Thomas was finishing his order, didn’t find it funny in the least.

Where did New Years Go:
On New Years we all met at Benjamin’s flat, about 20 minutes walk from downtown. We had a few drinks and Fabian passed around a nudy deck of cards that looked like it was from the 80’s. Very bushy hair. After drinking a bit we decided to head downtown around 11:30pm. Dave realized he had forgotten his wallet, so Benjamin had to go with him back to flat. The girls kept walking on while I was trying to get Thomas and Fabian to hurry up to catch up with them. It’s important to note that Fabian at this point was retarded and could barely walk. I ended up losing the girls and just winging it to try to make it back downtown. Thomas had a big bottle of champagne with him as we walked, so we all took a few swigs on our way. I knew we had obviously gone the wrong way when Dave texted me from the bar asking me where I was. By then it was almost midnight, but we could see downtown. So, in 2007 I got to ring in the new year holding up 2 drunk Germans, just a few minutes from the bars. And although I didn’t get my new years kiss then, because my only two choices weren’t exactly my style…I found 2 girls later that gladly obliged.

Fabian barely made it to 1am. He ended up passing out in front of a bar(there’s pics) and we had to hail him a taxi to take him back to Ben’s flat. The rest of us were up till about 5am bar hopping, and we somehow found the English group later on. One of the bars we stayed at for a while had a large courtyard out front where you could hangout because the bar inside was completely packed. You basically only went in to grab a drink then come back out. So, I found myself a little dry and headed back inside. On my way in I accidentally tripped over a guy’s foot(that he was sticking out). I didn’t think anything of it until I felt a huge push from behind me. I thought that was a little out of line and was about to tell the guy that if anyone should be upset, it’s me…because I was tripped. But he was freakin huge. So, I smiled and told him, “my bad bro.” Luckily his friend was a little more coherent and pulled the retarded guy back. That could’ve ended very badly. So, I celebrated my current health and lack of a broken nose with a whiskey and coke. I made sure to go around Baby Huey on my way back to the courtyard. We spent the last couple hours dancing like morons at some bar with a whole bunch of mirrors. The place looked HUGE…but it was tiny.

And that’s all I remember about Wellington.

River Valley Lodge:

Slaving:
Before leaving Taupo, I found a nice brochure for the Lodge and called ahead to see if they had an accommodation/work program. I got the job that they jokingly call Slaving. It’s about 6 hours of work a day but you get free lodging, incredible food, free activities, and most importantly: discounted booze.(Roughly $4 American for a pitcher of beer or a glass of nice wine.) Most of the “Slaves” took advantage of that perk the most…every night actually. By the end of my week long tenure I had cleaned rooms, worked the kitchen, piled wood, weed whacked most of the grounds, and helped make a bonfire for the owner’s daughter’s 26th Bday.

Texas Style Bonfire:
I’ve never made a bonfire before. But, since I had the idea of making it Teepee style, it was referred to as “Texas Style” from then on. I honestly don’t know what other shape you would make a proper bonfire. I’m assuming “New Zealand Style” would be a haphazard pile of no particular shape. So I guess I brought a little style to the party. Anyways, it got pretty big and the flame was huge. Maybe 30+ feet at the height of the fire and no one got closer than 20 feet to it. I was pretty proud of it, but as you’ll see by the videos, Alice said it was quite small…when she was speaking coherently. There were 40+ people there and we had a huge cookout before lighting the bonfire. The party got pretty crazy. By the end of the night there were bottles and cans of all shapes strewn across the place, an impromptu dance party happened near the house, Alice fell into a pond and Tim ran into a glass door. I was thankfully blessed to actually see both Alice and Tim totally eat it. I laughed with Tim, but not so much with Alice…she was redrunkulous and pretty unhappy with herself. If you’ve never seen someone genuinely run into a glass door, it’s ho-larious…my lips are curling to a smile even as I write this. By the time the bonfire was out, Alice was throwing up, Tim was still laughing about the glass door, Sarah was playing the Rugrats theme on the piano, and I was droned. I’m assuming the birthday girl had a good time too.

Bama & The Golf Ball Game:
I ended up meeting a few people from the States while working at the Lodge, but no one was quite a character or an “American” as Stephen…or “Bama.” (He was from Alabama) He was hilarious with an incredibly strong accent you’d expect from a born-and-raised Alabaman. He was pretty upset with me when I told him where I was from, because of my lack of Texas accent. So, I slowed down my speech and added a lil’ drawl to keep him in good spirits and to take my fair share of some of the good-natured Southern American jokes that were coming our way. Bama came in on one of the “Kiwi” buses. They’re a big bus travel company in NZ that let you hop on and off while you make your way around NZ. The Kiwi buses are a massive part of the Lodge’s business and tonight this Kiwi bus was at half capacity. Only like 20 people. So, Claire (our bartender) brought out “The Golf Ball Game” to liven up the party a bit. It’s a great game and I hope some of you guys try it out. All you need are 2-3 golf balls, depending on the size of the party. The point is to sneakily drop one of the balls into someone glass or pitcher, or tap the top of someone’s beer bottle with it. Once that’s done, the “golf balled” person has to finish their drink without stopping. So, you want to get someone with a full drink…but not an expensive one, because you have to replace the drink of the person you “golf balled.” But, if they see you and are able to block, you have to drink 2 fingers length of your drink. (you can’t continually hold your hand over your drink though, that’s cheating, and if caught you have to down your drink.) Once “golf balled,” it’s your turn to find the next drinking victim. It was a smart move by the bartender because it made the small group party a lot harder than they would’ve. And, because of Bama’s popularity with his Kiwi bus travelers, he ended up with all three balls by the end of the night. It’s a great, cheap-fun game that make’s it real easy to mingle with new people.

Canadian Mennonite Update:
One of the “Slaves” I worked with, Sherry, was from Alberta, Canada. So I felt I had to ask her about the whole Mennonite sex thing. Turns out, it’s not with the wives, but with the daughter’s. And, get this…you can get paid up to 10 G’s for it. The hole in the sheet thing is still a go, so I still laugh thinking about it. (For example….what if the daughter was a midget. How low would that hole be?) Last time I checked, sperm banks only give you up to $300 per shot. 10 G’s! I could go to Cananda and totally pay off my student loans. Something to ponder.

Grade 5 Whitewater Rafting:
So, I’ve also never been whitewater rafting…something about quick moving water and pointy rocks never really appealed to me. Call me crazy. I was especially skeptical after seeing Darren, one of the kayakers who takes pics of the groups during the trip,comme back one day with a cast on his leg. He had got out of his kayak for some reason and forgot to put his legs up, so one of his feet quickly got caught in some rocks and the water pushed him, breaking his Fibula right above his ankle. Don't worry, we kept him in good spirits by drawing penis' on his cast. I get one big activity for free for being a “Slave” for a week at the lodge, so I had to do the Grade 5(the highest) rafting trip. Only because I can’t pass up something that would cost me $150 bucks. It was cool and cold and wet and awesome. At one point we all got to get out and jump off a small cliff…maybe 20 feet high. I did it twice before we headed down the rest of the rapids. Oh, and we got a free chocolate candy bar too, so I had a good time.

Dropping Trou in Malaysia:
I met Michelle one of the nights near the bar. She was from England and had traveled to NZ by coming south from Asia and Australia. She enlightened me on a bit of Malaysian bathroom etiquette that I feel is my duty to pass on. So, imagine if you will, walking into a typical bathroom. A row of sinks to your right, 2 stalls on your left, and on the other side of the stalls in an open area…a young woman stands there looking at you while holding the hand of her 4 year old son, skirt hiked up, squatting over a hole in the ground.

Michelle’s reaction was rightfully, “Oh, Bloody Hell!” as she quickly turned around and left the bathroom. This is supposedly quite common in Malaysia...the squatting, not the screaming English people. And, even when you do find a bathroom with western toilets, you can often see heads poking over the stalls because Malaysian’s still prefer to stand on the seats and squat. I, of course, laughed at all this because I have a twisted sense of humor. If I make it to Asia I guess I’m in for a treat.

And that’s all I remember about River Valley Lodge

Lake Taupo:

So, I got to Taupo and almost immediately decided to stay for a few months. I even bought a bike to get around on and applied for work at a few places in town and started calling people about getting a flat. Then it started raining a lot and I figured I should keep moving. But, I have been here for 3 weeks now, so I thought working at one of the hostels would be a good idea to save the twenty bucks a day I was spending on accommodation. And it was, 2 hours of work from 10-Noon got me free internet, room, discounts around town, invites to private bar parties and I got to know the other cleaners and hostel workers really well.

Falling From Things:
So, Taupo has a unique “cantilever” bungee platform that sits above the really freakin’ cold Waikato River. So, I had to do it, especially since it was only like $65. Since it’s over water, you can decide if you want to get dunked, and depending on how brave you are, you can get totally submerged. I just went to the waist. So I guess I'm just slightly a pansy? It’s a 154 foot silent(I couldn’t get myself to say anything, other than “oh shit, oh shit, oh shit” inside my head) drop into freezing water. I was finally able to scream something to the effect of “woohoo” after coming out of the water. It was a rush and I got a half off coupon to do it again within the year. But I heard there’s a 400+ foot bungee drop in a canyon around Queenstown…so I’m looking forward to that. I’ll let you all know if I piss myself.

Next was a 12,000 foot tandem skydive. I splurged and got a dvd and pictures made because it ended up only costing $300 American for “the works” package. But, I haven’t developed the film for the pics and I’m pretty embarrassed at how goofy I look in the dvd…but I’m sure they’ll end up in the linked sites at some point. The guy I jumped with(or who I was intimately attached to) was actually an American named Daniel, from Oregon. I asked him how many jumps he does in a regular day and it was around 12-15. But he went 18 times in one day last summer. Right before we jumped I totally forgot to put on my goggles, and Daniel forgot to remind me, so I quickly teared up and looked like I was crying. I quickly realized I was a tard, and put on the goggles, but the damage was done and tears filled up the goggles too. I’m sure the pictures will look great. It was still cool though, and once the chute opened I could take the goggles back off. My favorite part was just coasting back down to land. As I looked around, I put my hands out in front of me and it seemed like I was watching a movie…like I wasn’t really this high looking down, and those weren’t my hands. It was surreal. Then Daniel pulled the right chord on the chute and we swung around so quickly I thought I was going throw up.

So, to sum up my skydiving experience: I cried, forgot who I was, and almost lost my lunch. It was awesome.

Halloween:
Halloween was cool. I spent it jumping bar to bar with a guy from Colorado, who was also traveling the country on his own. Neither of us dressed up, so we could comfortably laugh at the rest of the crazy drunk people in ridiculous costumes. One guy was running around shirtless, covered in red paint. So, I of course took the chance to tell him that “You’ve got red on you.” It's a Shaun of the Dead movie joke…if you haven’t seen it, leave your computer now and go rent/buy it. If, by chance, you don’t enjoy it, I will personally reimburse you at a later date. So, that was Halloween…it had nothing on previous years back in the States. But hey, I was drunk so it was a good time.

J.O.B.:
So I decided to stay a bit in Taupo and luckily a cleaning job opened up at the hostel I was staying at. I’ve been doing it for about 2 weeks and can regretfully say that I still have not walked in on anyone doing anything that I shouldn’t have seen. So the job itself is very uneventful, but I have gotten to know some really cool people and subsequently drank entirely too much with them.

Confused Extremities:
During the days when it’s cloudy and rainy, Taupo basically shuts down and there’s nothing to do. So a few of us decided to walk to the Natural Hot Pools that make their way to the Waikato River. Some other guys had the same idea, only one better because they had brought a lot of beer with them. After seeing the beer we all looked at each other with the same face of “I knew we forgot something.” It was too far to walk back so we said screw it and found an open spot in the hot pools,…which happened to be pretty far up so it was crazy hot. We had red lines on our chests like sun burn lines when we got out. We then ran to the cold river to jump in so we could wake up a bit. There was at least a 50 degree difference between the river and the hot pools, so my “family jewels” were thoroughly confused as to what the hell was going on. We did this a few times. Basically as soon as we felt faint from the hot pools we’d jump back in the river to wake up. It was cool, and free.


Jane Says:
So I met a girl from England named Jane and we went to a Tex-Mex joint for dinner. Which, surprisingly, was pretty good. The margarita was god-awful, but the chips were nice. They were served in a warm bowl and had a cheddar flavor to them and the owner gave me 4 different hot sauces to flavor the salsa with.(I told him I was from Texas so he was incredibly helpful) Anyways, Jane told me an interesting idea on how the “terrorists” could actually win. This strategy involves stopping the production and blocking the importation of: all peanut butter, cinnamon and processed cheese in America. I personally think she’s onto something. Luckily, terrorists aren’t my blog’s target market. The destruction of the cinnamon alone would cause me to kill at least 30 people in a mad rage of cinnamon withdrawal.

According to an Englishman:

So, I blacked out.
This is the story of me, according to an Englishman.

I had made the mistake of drinking a lot before going out. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, I just didn’t quit until the bars closed. So, accordingly, I was “a bit off.”

This was my “shopping list” for the night:
Half a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc
4 strong screwdrivers
At least 1 vodka coke
At least 3 beers
And 2 hamburgers, which I don’t recall

So we bounced around from bar to bar and when we got to Mulligan’s Irish Pub I made the mistake of breaking a New Zealander’s beer as I bumped into him. I quickly told him I’d buy him a new one and ran to the bar afriad. In those few minutes I must have completely forgotten the previous agreement and came back drinking a vodka/coke, smiling like an idiot. Luckily the Kiwi had a good sense of humor and didn’t beat the crap out of me. Now…I can only assume that there were a lot of Michael Jackson song’s playing at Mulligan's, because on our way to the next bar I began dancing like MJ and thought it smart to power slide on my knees. My left knee obviously thought it was an awful idea and now has a big scab on it, out of spite. My jeans though, don’t have a scratch. So, I guess designer jeans are worth the price after all. Next, we made it to a local hangout in which I loudly professed was full of fat and hairy Maori women. David, the Englishman, became very wide-eyed and quickly tried to shush me. Luckily no one heard me. Which is amazing because I continued to make this kind observation as we left...about 3 or 4 more times. It’s important to note that The Holy Cow is the latest bar open, till about 4am. It’s where everyone ends up after the 5-6 other bars close about an hour earlier. I guess it was during this hour that we had our second burger of the night and walked around looking for an open bar. When we finally made it to Holy Cow, it was 4am and closed. I had noticed that people were still up there drinking and somehow convinced the doorman that it wouldn’t hurt anyone(just my liver) to let us up to enjoy one more beer with the few leftover people and the staff. Although I don’t believe it, David later said that I spoke incredibly well even though I drunk myself retarded. I must have been on a convincing streak, because I had David believing that I was not a 24 year old designer traveling New Zealand for the hell of it, but in fact, a 34 year old CIA agent on a one year sabbatical.

And that was one night, according to an Englishman.

And that’s all I and an Englishman remember about Taupo.

Paihia:

Short Description of a Short Walk:
So after a 5 hour bus ride from Auckland, I arrived in the cool beach town of Paihia, near the Bay of Islands. After meeting up with Ze Germans, we went on the Haruru 5k walk. It was pretty cool, the scenery changed so many times it was ridiculous. Be sure to check out the pics. It ended at a nice little waterfall that was actually quite loud.

NZ Idol and Red-Necks:
After a nap I went to “The Salty” bar next door and had a few beers during Paihia’s “Idol” karaoke competition. For New Zealanders, they really know how to sing country. Anyways, toward the end of the night I ended up inadvertedly talking to a belligerent Mauri Australian rugby player. He was big and didn’t like Texas that much, and he reeked of B.O. So, I did the wisest thing I could and kept smiling and nodding until he decided he wanted to jack the mic from the girl on stage. The guy running the gig sadly got the mic back from him before he could say anything. Next morning, after reserving a spot on the “The Rock” I walked along the beach for a few miles until I found a secluded spot and got butt-assed naked and read a book, sans the butt-assed naked part. I ended up with a hell of a sunburn on my neck and somehow escaped the next few days without a “Texan Red-Neck” comment. I was actually a little disappointed.

Cape Reinga and John Denver:
So there are a few companies that offer trips up to the northern tip of NZ to Cape Reinga and then down the “90 Mile Beach”(that’s actually only like 64 miles) I ended up choosing Kings Tours, off the recommendation of a well traveled English girl named Emma, who had taken advantage of the guides microphone on the previous day’s trip, to sing a song to the 40 passenger coach bus. The main reason she told me to take it was because of the guide, Murray, who was a really funny old Kiwi. For some reason he really loved the song “Home Grown Tomatoes” by John Denver and ended up playing it 4 times in a row. Try to find the song, you’ll get about 25 seconds in and want to shoot yourself. But, by the 4th listen it was actually pretty funny and most of the coach was singing along. After we made it to the Cape, Murray took us to the beautiful beach of Tapotupotu Bay…I could’ve stayed there for weeks. Then we went Sand Dune Boarding and a 70 year old British guy from the bus put everyone to shame with the amount of distance he covered. I was pretty amazed he even made it up the dune, I was exhausted by the time I got up there, and he went 3 times. Must be something in the tea they serve in England, or the black tar heroin.

“The Rock” & Sex Through a Sheet:
This is one of the coolest things I’ve done. It was an overnight cruise aboard “The Rock” with about 15 other people and the 6 person crew. Peter, the owner and captain of the boat, made it from scratch himself over the course of about 2 years. There was fishing, dolphins, night kayaking to see the neon algae phosphorescence, and island trips. Even though it got cold and rained, it was still a lot of fun.
So, about the sex…
There was a young Canadian couple on board by the names of Angela and Clay. Clay works in petroleum and had spent the past few months in Northern Canada(Alberta I think) Turns out, that because of a lack of “new blood” in the Mennonite sect that lives up there, husbands are propositioning local and traveling men to have sex with their wives, because of all their inbreeding. But the women are supposedly “funny lookin” (I swear he sounded just like Marge from Fargo when he said it) and they have large beastly, tree-trunk legs. But, here’s the silver lining…you don’t have to look at them during sex because they hang a sheet from the ceiling with a hole cut in it! Then you go to town, biblically, on an inbred Mennonite…for free! So, you can guess what my closest friends are getting for Christmas this year… a personal Sex with One Mennonite for Free Voucher*

*Only valid at participating Mennonite sects in Northern Canada

And that's all I remember about Paihia.

So the blog is officially up and running. I’ll try to update it every 2 weeks depending on where I am. Be sure to check out the Photos link on the right that takes you to my Flickr page and the Video link, that takes you to my YouTube page…once I get that working.

Auckland:

Background info... featuring Asians:
According to my travel book, ¾ of the population of NZ lives in the North Island, and half of that lives in Auckland. It’s a huge city. What the book didn’t say was that about every 3 out of 5 people were Asian. Not that I’m complaining…those who know me...well, you know. So, I guess that was my first big culture shock…that I happily welcomed with a smile.

Stinky Feet & “I Can’t Believe it’s not Butter”:
One of my roommates in NZ was a native NZ’er from Wanganui, that most of the people on the floor thought was a bum, and rightfully so. His toenails were easily ½ inch longer than what’s reasonable for a guy. I was actually surprised he could wear shoes comfortably. Suffice it to say, I didn’t hang out with him much. Instead, I hung out with Fabio, the Italian/Belgian banker from the UK. I’m not sure how many Texans can say that they’ve actually met a living person named Fabio. He was cool, and was of course a ladies man. It helped that he spoke four languages (He talked a Brazilian girl and her friend to have a drink with us at the Harbor before they had to meet their boyfriends). I ended up going to a Belgian restaurant/pub with him, he knew more about the menu and beers than the waiter. So, if you ever get the chance, try the Belgian beer, Duvel. It’s 8.5% awesome and tastes like Jesus probably smelled…delicious.

Ze Germans and Lady Parts:
There was a huge traveling group of Germans at the Fat Camel Hostel I was at. I ended up hanging out with about 6 of them in the 4th floor lobby on 2 nights. Their English was a hell of a lot better than my German, but there were a few things they didn’t know…So, Brian (a New Yorker) and I taught them how to play “Ring of Fire.” Half way through the game, Brian mentioned something about a soggy sandwich and used the term “mushy” and all the Germans started cracking up. Turns out that “mushy” is a slang term for the Vah-Jay, in German. So, according to the Germans, Brian likes vagina sandwiches. Another funny misunderstanding happened with Carola was talking about a WOOF (organic farming volunteering) she was going to do up in the Northland helping out a woman owner. She had meant to say that it was going to be her first WOOF experience, but for some reason it came out as “It ez going to be my virst experience wit a woman.” After the laughing stopped, we made sure to remind her to tell us how it all went. I bet she had rough hands.

The Lady Boy:
So, because of the huge number of Asians living/working/traveling in the city, there was no shortage of incredible Thai, Sushi, Korean, Chinese, etc. restaurants around. During one of my walks I came across KHAO, a Thai restaurant that had been voted #1 that year by the city’s paper. I forget my waiter’s name, so we’ll just call him Frank. I thought Frank was a woman at first. He had long bangs like a lady, and his hair pulled in a ponytail like a lady and I’m pretty sure he was wearing ladies designer jeans. I had seen a few other “lady-boys” walking around the town, but Frank took the cake. There’s not much of a story here, except that I was a lil’ weirded out. But hey, to each his own, right? The food was great by the way. Ended up only costing about $20 U.S. with a tall beer.

And that is what I can remember about Auckland.