Waiting for the snow

I never thought I’d be complaining about a warmer-than-average winter, but here I am, doing just that.

It’s now nearly three weeks into this New Zealand winter and there is zero snow on the ground.  This usually wouldn’t bother me, but my (very modest) livelihood depends on the white stuff for the next few months.

Treble Cone is supposed to open on Thursday, but that’s looking extremely unlikely at this point, which is very disappointing for a few reasons.  For one thing, it means I am going to be very broke very soon L. For another, after a few days of training, and having met my excellent colleagues, I’ve been looking forward to getting to work.

And of course, it will be fun to get out on the slopes – though after seeing the steepness of the mountain, my lack of experience and skills is rather worrying. Luckily, I get discounted lessons, and I intend to take advantage of that.

Other than training, I haven’t been very busy since I got back to Wanaka.  Before moving into my new home, (woot!) I spent a lot of time hanging out at a hostel watching movies, doing crossword puzzles and crocheting. I also did a bit of walking, trolled the op shops (second hand shops) for much-needed warm clothing, and watched a friend jump out of a plane (I was almost tempted to join him…almost).

I also went on an impromptu trip to Queenstown where I played Frisbee golf, ate a Furgburger, attempted to climb the very steep hill near town (gave up about a third of the way up), and earned a $25 drinks tab at a bar just for having a tattoo (woo hoo!).

Now I have two more days of training then hopefully I’ll start work.  Fingers crossed!

My new room.

My new lounge.

Beau lands after his skydive.

My drinks voucher.

I just threw a frisbee...you just can't see it.

Cleaning up Wanaka -- well, a small part of it, anyway

It’s a great week to be in Wanaka.  The weather has been absolutely incredible and the weekend’s WanakaFest was a hoot.

I participated in a bunch of activities with a nice German girl I met at the hostel.  We got a little tipsy at the food and wine tent where we sampled some of the truly delicious local wine.  We watched the cardboard boat launch and the urban mountain bike race.  Most of all, we got a kick out of watching the “Perfect Woman” competition.  Before you judge me for backing a beauty pageant, hear me out.  This was like no pageant I’ve ever heard of before.  For one thing, it was sponsored by Tui, the kiwi equivalent of Molsons.

The 30 girls vying for the title completed traditional tasks such as cooking a meal and sewing a button on a shirt. They also had to do a number of less, oh, let’s say “girly” things, and that’s where things got fun.  They donned fireman gear and shot a target with a hose, they chopped wood, they drove a backhoe, they skinned dead rabbits with their bare hands, they opened beer bottles with various objects (belt buckles, lipstick, flipflops), they welded, they hammered, they scaled a 50-foot pole.  It was wild.

The long list of events the Tui's Perfect Woman contestants took part in.

The girls suit up for one of the competitions.

Competititors were aided up the climbing pole by Canada's own world champion speed climber.  This "Gingah Ninga" posesses not only three world records, but also a splendid name lifted straight out of a romance novel: Stirling Hart.

The rabbit skinning -- I'm glad I didn't see much of it.

Less wild is what I’ve been getting up to the past three days. I found myself an undemanding gig cleaning for two hours a day in exchange for accommodation. It’s OK.  It would be great, if the cleaning wasn’t so, how can I put this?  Intense.

The place in question is a former gym that was converted some time ago into a shared house.  I’m sure at one time it was a glorious place with its big lounge area, Japanese baths, stone showers (those are still pretty sweet, actually), big backyard and climbing walls. 

Buuuuuuut along the way it’s definitely lost its charm.  The owner is an Aussie who grew up in Japan and bought the place during her ski-racing days.  She only comes to town twice a year when the running of the place passes from one caretaker to the next.  I don’t know what the recent caretakers have been taking care of, but it certainly wasn’t this place.

It. Was. Disgusting.

The lounge, mid-clean.

The kitchen, pre clean

Soot, dirt, dead flies, grime, random socks, beer bottle caps, rolling papers: you name it, it was lying around. How do people live like this?

To give you a better idea of what I’m dealing with, it took me four hours just to clean the lounge, and cleaning the accumulated grime on the computer took a full ten minutes. This morning I started on the kitchen, and I think it’ll take two of us at least six hours to get that room up to liveable standards. Ew.

On the upside, it’s kind of rewarding to see the progress of this place going from pigsty to just dingy.  And I have a free room to myself (woohoo!) and free Internet (double woohoo!), so I figure I’m saving about $30 a day, which goes a long way. 

Another great thing is that by noon, I’m free to do what I wish, and the stunning vistas here are a great way to cleanse my visual pallet after staring at filth for a few hours each morning.

Mostly my afternoons have been spent sitting by the lake, enjoying the sunshine and a good book, watching the ducks and ducklings swim by, and marvelling at the scenery.

Yesterday, however, I was rather ambitious and set out on a marvellous hike along one of the nearby rivers and around one side of Lake Wanaka. At 16km, it was by far the furthest I’ve walked in a single session since I’ve been here.  I’m happy to report that it was mercifully flat, and other than the plentiful mountain bikers with whom I had to share the path, there was little to complain about.

By the river.

Would you look at the colour of that water?  Can you believe it?

Along the path.

I even managed not to get sunburned, despite the relentless rays.  Some of you may not know this, but NZ is the unlucky landmass that finds itself under the hole in the ozone layer.  The sun is very VERY harsh here. And with so much of the population being fair-skinned, and sunscreen exorbitantly priced, it’s no wonder skin cancer is such a problem here.  I myself had a mole removed after spending three summer months here two years ago.  I’m armed with lots of SPF 30, a wide-brimmed hat and a fierce determination not to burn (or wrinkle!) this time around. Still, I’m freckly as.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I’ll say a somewhat reluctant goodbye to Wanaka on Saturday, when I take off for Christchurch. That night I’m going to see the Black Seeds, a kiwi Dub band, in concert.  Check them out for yourselves. Should be good a good show.

To the outskirst of Christchurch -- Lyttleton and Sumner.

 

Wow does NZ get a lot of earthquakes.  Check out this list of just the most recent ones: http://www.geonet.org.nz/earthquake/quakes/recent_quakes.html

On Sunday and Monday, I moved out of the downtown core and out to the suburbs where I got to see a bit more of the damage.  Have a look for yourself:

Cracked facade in Lyttleton

A positive-minded Lyttleton bakery

There are three kinds of these notices posted on buildings around the city.  The white "all's good" notice, this yellow "uh uh, not so fast" notice, and the red "don't even think about coming in here" notice of doom.

This R&R Sports store unsurprisingly had the red notice on it.

An entire block and intersection right in the city centre is still completely blocked off.

I really don't know why some of these pictures keep spinning themselves sideways, but others don't.  It's infuriating.  Anyway, this was among some of the worst damage I've seen.

Cracked pavement in Sumner.

Still, the vast majority of buildings are looking pretty good. 

Like the Chritchurch Cathedral in Cathedral Square.

On Sunday I gladly escaped my smelly dorm room (this one guy’s feet were intensely pungeant) and decided to venture out to Lyttleton.  It’s a burb on the other side of a range of small mountains, or big hills, I’m not sure.  In any case, the bus went through a tunnel, and it took us 2:14 mintues to get to the other side, and he wasn’t driving slowly either. 

Lyttleton is a burb built around a port, and has a gritty look and feel about it – thousands upon thousands of logs were piled up near the docks where rusty, decidedly un-picturesque barges were moored – yet also manages to be a bit artsy and a little boho.  I found myself a table at a bakery on the main drag and had myself a "Splorg" slice (chocolate cakey-type thing with crunchy caramel topping). It was nice.  Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t, so I didn’t linger. 

A few tourist vessels alongside some more robust boats.

Despite the obvious utilitarian nature of the port, these people still have a pretty fantastic view.



The clouds roll in.

 On Monday I met up with a friend I had met during my last visit to NZ, who has requested that I refer to him here as “Inki.”  He’s a Yank by birth who, as his adopted moniker suggests, possesses a rather impressive collection of tattoos.  He also now possesses something I covet very much – New Zealand residency status. 

We’ve managed to keep in touch these past many months, and he's provided a lot of encouragement towards my move here.  He stopped into Christchurch for a day on his way up to Auckland to start a new job.  I’ll flatter myself and think that it’s because he wanted to see me J

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(Sorry about that, I just accidently found a way to insert a bunch of symbols.  Strange, but cool!)

It had been hailing on and off most of the night and a good chunk of the morning, so we sought refuge indoors at the Art Gallery.  It reminds me somewhat of the National Art Gallery of Canada in Ottawa in that the building is mostly glass, is rather interesting in and of itself, and its front doors are guarded by oversized statues. (sorry, no pics)

It’s not a huge gallery though, so it didn’t take long for us to exhaust what it had on offer.  After a nice lunch at an Indian restaurant, the weather had improved, so we took off for Sumner, another Christchurch burb on the water.  Unlike Lyttleton though, Sumner is all posh and beach. 

Sumner

Inki began our little tour by bringing me to one of the many caves in the cliffs in the area, many of them just under houses. The opening was mere feet from a sidewalk and was no more than 3 feet high. I neglected to take a picture, but trust me, it was tight at first. It required a tight squeeze and a bit of a shimmy to get in, but then opened up to an area where we could stand up.  A day later I was still finding sand in my pockets. It was pretty cool.

It was low tide, so we then walked along the water and at times in it (brrrrrrrrr) before hopping back on a bus to downtown. 

Don't I look comfortable?

Cave Rock, at the juncture of Sumner and Scarborough beaches at low tide.

We finished off our visit with a trip to a (rather empty) pub with two guys who were staying in the same room as us and played a bit of pool and enjoyed a few pints. 'Twas a grand, if too short visit with Inki, but I'm sure we'll be meeting again soon. 

Next up, Dunedin.

A brief glimpse of Tongoriro National Park and Wellington

When I last checked in with you folks, we were nestled in the foothills of the mountains in Tongoriro National Park.  I’m very glad we had arrived during daylight hours and had a nice – if distant – look at the mountains, for the view that had so enchanted us on Tuesday was completely obliterated by Wednesday morning.  The mountains were fully shrouded by the thick clouds and fog that had moved in overnight.  Fie!

The forecast had promised the clouds would burn off, so we valiantly headed deeper into the park to Whakapapa village wearing clothing we had deemed appropriate for the excursion – nylon pants, t-shirts, cardigans and rain jackets. 

At the i-site (the visitor’s centre) we enquired about short walks in the area, specifically about the Meads walk – a half-hour walk to a rock wall that was used in some scene in LOTR (still not sure which one). The woman at the counter directed us to head on up to the ski fields, and to take a path behind one of the lifts. 

Let’s remember that it’s early spring here and that we were up in the mountains.  Hence, there was still snow up there, and the ski season was still in full swing (it’s a school holiday this week).  Remember those nylon pants, t-shirts, cardigans and rain jackets we were sporting? Well, we quickly discovered that they were definitely not warm enough. 

We pulled out all the extra layers and cold-weather accessories we could and girded ourselves for a nice challenging walk through the mist. 

Toasty!



We couldn’t see more than 10 feet in front of us for a while, but only for a short while, cause about five minutes after setting out up that slippery, snowy hill, we were in a clearing, and it appeared that we were at the end of the walk (30 minutes my sweet patootie).  The fog suddenly lifted and we were standing in front of a 10-15m high rock wall that we assume was the star of the show.  We took a few quick photos, then headed back to try and warm up. 



Quick!  Someone tell me what scene this is in! We haven't figured it out yet.



We drove (and by “we” I mean Nick) to Wellington all afternoon. Along the way we skirted some truly alarming rock faces that were either seemingly on the brink of tumbling into the road, or had done so already.  We didn't get a picture of it, but one section actually had a car-sized boulder that had rolled across two lanes of road to the other side.

Eeek!  And this was luckily a place where there was a shoulder to the road.  Usually it was just sheer rock face jutting out right next to the pavement.

, and arrived just in time for rush hour.  We swung by two backpacker hostels which had come highly recommended by our travel books and quickly rejected them (the first smelled of a delicate bouquet of old hockey equipment, cat pee and cigarettes; the second’s front porch was writhing with at least 20 disaffected youth. They reminded me of a bunch of cats just lazing about in the sun looking entitled and bored with life).

We ended up at the YHA which was so much nicer than any place I’ve ever stayed in Wellington.  When next I’m back in Wellington I’m not bothering looking anywhere else (and if ever you’re there, do the same.  Trust me.)

We really didn’t see much of Wellington.  A short walk along Cuba street and the main drag was about it.  I did point out a café where the LOTR actors had apparently frequented on occasion, and noticed that the piercing studio that had given me the now-defunct hole in my lip six years ago was equally defunct itself.

It was an early night, as we were expected at the ferry terminal at 7:30 to make our way to the South Island. 

Well…it was meant to be an early night, and Christina and Nick, comfortably ensconced in their cosy double room, did get a full night’s rest.  I, on the other hand, was in a six-person dorm and got lured into a long conversation with a kiwi bloke from somewhere on the North Island who was very sweetly accompanying his niece and her friend to a Paramour concert in town the next night.  They were all very nice.

Who wasn’t nice were the other two twits from our room who loudly stumbled in at 4:00 a.m. More precisely, they loudly and repeatedly attempted unsuccessfully to open the door at 4:00 a.m.  When I got up to open the door for them, they proceeded to turn on the lights and slowly and noisily get ready for bed to the backdrop of my passive aggressive sighs.

I so wanted to return the favour when my alarm went off two and half hours later, but I couldn’t do that to the uncle and girls.  So instead, I did what all nice roommates should, and got ready in the dark trying to make as little noise as possible.  I did get one final passive aggressive act in and used the twits’ nice face wash and moisturiser they had left in the washroom – that’ll teach them! (Not that they’ll notice, but whatever).

On a positive note, that morning was clear and bright, and for once, Wellington wasn’t being hit with gale force winds, so the sea was calm. In short, it was a perfect day to take the ferry.

Just look at that brilliant sunshine.

The crossing from Wellington, on the North Island, to Picton, on the South Island takes three hours on the HUGE ferry boat. It’s a great ride that starts off with great views of Wellington – a picturesque city built into a steep hillside, which means that nearly everyone seems to have a view of the ocean. 

Wellington in the a.m.

The middle section is open sea, which is still quite pretty, and then the last hour or so is through Marlborough Sound, which is particularly stunning.  I was hoping to see dolphins as I had during the crossing last time since Nick has never really seen any (don’t worry, that’s a situation that has been taken care of since then – stay tuned!).  Alas, there were none. 

The Marlborough Sounds -- ahhhhhhhhhhh.

We did see thousands upon thousands of jellyfish though.  So that was cool.

A quick tour of Picton – including the cute park on the water, complete with its own ride-able miniature train and affable conductor – and we were off to Kaikoura, stopping many times along the way to get photos.

How much does this man love his job?  So much!  In case you're wondering, a ride on the train costs 0.20$.

Picton from the boat.

The Ferry in Picton.

Coast, train, and plants

East Coast of the South Island

Nick and a sleepy seal.

Self timers are awesome.

Brisbane is much better in the light of day and out of the fog of sickness

Despite my last melancholic post, I’m very happy to be where I am. 

Once the cold started to wane, and the weather cleared, I was reminded just how fetching a city Brisbane is. 



Pretty!

A wide river snakes its way through the city, and inviting paths flow along its banks.  Adding to the picturesque panorama is the slew of attractive and fit Aussies who use the paths as their workout grounds.  As bikers and joggers whipped by me in all their sweaty hotness, I started to regret my impulse purchase at the Krispy Kreme I’d come across (a $3.50 “cream egg donut…mmmmmm.  Expensive AND tasty).

Floating walkway.  It's pretty cool.  There are some sections that I guess swing out to let boats through (near the rich people's houses.

There are plenty of strange and striking trees, plants, bushes and flowers to gaze at.  During the day the sky is alive with birds big (like the funny-looking ibis) and small while at night huge fruit bats take their place.



The ibis' head to body ratio is OFF THE CHARTS!

The downtown’s interesting modern buildings are peppered with old interesting ones, making for striking contrasts. 

Jux...

..ta...



...po...



...si...

...tion!

The people seem nice and content.  For the most part, they’re also quite fashionable, with older women wearing what looks like designer wear and every second younger chick decked out in black tights and short skirts or shorts.  I think I stood out in my rolled up jeans and t-shirt.

What a tourist!

Though the weather at the moment is unseasonably cool, generally, I’m told, it’s really quite lovely.  It should return to its regular loveliness by early next week (Huzzah!).  I’m very delighted, since bad weather can have such a bearing on how I perceive a place.

For instance, yesterday morning when the sky was a monochromatic grey and rain was falling in a mist so light you could barely feel it, let alone protect yourself against it, I was still decidedly anti-Brisbane.  But by time the sun did break through the thick clouds at about three I was starting to sing a different tune. By then I was very happy to grab my book and my aforementioned donut and camp out on a bench for a good read.

One thing I’m still not liking about here is the fact that there is no wifi at the hostel.  Hell, they don’t even have a computer with an Internet connection (!!!).  It’s disappointing, and rather inconvenient, since the nearest Internet café is a 10 minute walk away and I’m stuck paying $4 for each hour I spend online.  I seem to remember that the public library on the South Bank has free Internet and Wifi.  I’m planning on making my way to that neck of the woods today anyway, so hopefully I’ll get a few things done for free!!!