Not Always to Plan…

A trip to Mt Aspiring National Park; what a dream! I had a brochure from the DOC, a plan for two nights in the park, and I was excited to set off! I eagerly hit the road with my thumb out, looking forward to putting the 86km between Wanaka and Mt Aspiring behind me. After an hour of no luck, I was finally picked up by a twenty-something who worked at a paintball place just out of town in a tiny place called Glendhu with one Holiday Park, and one farm. He wasn’t going all the way but he got me 30km down the road, a hopeful start to my day. As I stood with my thumb out for the next couple hours, I was rapidly losing hope as the day grew warmer and my prospects diminished. I checked out the park map and re-planned my time in the park, accounting for a later arrival time between hopeful smiles at passing cars. Unfortunately there was no shade on the appropriate side of the road, so I occupied my time by feeding the horses grass while keeping my mind off the heat and waiting for passing cars. As noon became afternoon, I lost hope and in a disheartening move for a hitchhiker, crossed the road and stuck my thumb out the other way. Going this direction it took me over 30 minutes to get a ride just the 30km back into town, and surprisingly it was with a family. Not at all used to families stopping, I was surprised when I climbed into the campervan to sit between the couple’s two young daughters. It was a very friendly family of Kiwis and they shared their wisdom on the region, informing me that hitchhiking in the Mt Aspiring direction is virtually impossible for a variety of reasons. They dropped me off close to the Lakeview Holiday Park and I went to reception to check in again, my head held a little lower. Hitchhiking is always hit and miss, but to strike out sucks, especially when you have such an awesome plan for such an amazing park. But there were things to do still in Wanaka, and I had decided long before that this would not be my only visit to New Zealand.

My plans for the day entirely out the window, I had a lazy day observing the races in progress, and took an evening walk out Wanaka’s other shore. I decided I wanted to go canyoning the next day, booked it, and had a relaxing night of blogging and TV.

So, what is canyoning? North Americans would call it canyoneering (but Word spell check doesn’t like that either) but it’s the same worldwide. On the most basic level, you hike up a hill and come back down through a canyon; abseiling, jumping, sliding, and zip lining the whole fun filled time. Canyoning can be enjoyed in numerous NZ locations and there are some famous runs in Australia, but I chose Wanaka because it promised to be the wettest experience, staying in the water almost the whole time. Departing out of Queenstown you are promised 3 hours wet out of a total 8. Unfortunately, you are in a wet suit the entire time, and anyone who has worn a wetsuit knows they get very hot very quickly in the sun; usually black and providing excellent insulation against body heat loss. I was picked up from my campsite in one of New Zealand’s ubiquitous minibuses (either really tiny busses, or slightly overgrown vans, always Mitsubishi or Toyota, usually bought second hand from Asia) and driven the lovely 40 minute drive into the Mt Pisa Range. There was a tour starting mid canyon, or for the more enthusiastic/advanced, the option to start nearer the top. Always following the rule of go big or go home, I went for the larger one, dishing out $290 plus a further $15 for the photos taken throughout by the guides with their waterproof/drop proof cameras. The whole experience was exhilarating and I faced more than a few scary situations – proudly – always coming out on top. Abseiling (repelling in a harness down a rope) through waterfalls, sliding down the rock face of a waterfall, or jumping into the pool below, the whole experience is one rush after another. This tour has you constantly wet, rarely getting out of the water (and then only twice for zip lines) but the wet suits are sufficient protection from the mountain cold water. I can proudly say I slid over a waterfall 12m tall, repelled over waterfalls up to 20m tall, and jumped off a rock face 10m to water below. It is only after the experience you learn how dangerous it is, but looking back on the previous seven hours the danger becomes quite obvious. Seeing far more injuries than skydiving, bungee jumping and most other adventure sports combined, the typical injuries include broken legs and ankles as well as facial injuries and the occasional hand problem. If you lose your footing on slick rocks while abseiling, incorrect recovery in the situation could find you with your face up against the same rock, maybe breaking a nose. When jumping into a pool, the guide gives firm instructions on where to land, and they mean it. Two feet in the wrong direction and you could end up landing on a barely submerged rock ledge and break a leg or two. Such an injury happened only a few weeks before my visit, but it’s made quite clear beforehand that following instructions almost guarantees a safe and fun trip. It was an excellent experience, and if I never canyon again, I can be happy knowing that I may not have done the world’s biggest, but I did one of the wettest and I had a great time (conquering a few fears at the same time!). The guides break out sandwich supplies at the bottom and everyone enjoys a great time chatting about canyoning, travelling, whatever comes to mind before packing up and driving back into the city. $290 (for the higher up option) was a terrific price for an entire day of entertainment and I left feeling like the whole experience was well worth it. I highly recommend it for the adventurous soul.

Wanaka was a wonderful time, and while it may not have an exciting night life or huge backpacker population, those exact same things are what make it a perfect alternative to Queenstown. In the winter Wanaka enjoys a healthy ski/snowboard season and the tourism keeps going all year round. The town is quiet and relaxing, while an escape to adventure is a minibus ride away. It was great having Glen to hang out and chat with, and he was a wealth of information for me to use on both the local area and New Zealand in general; he has spent years in the hospitality business before flexing his entrepreneurial muscles and his insights are highly valuable. I won’t find myself back in Wanaka on this visit, but I am 100% sure I will end up back in Wanaka on another trip to take in another movie at the Cinema Paradiso and take in another gorgeous sunset from Waterfall Creek.

Please note: the photos of canyoning are not my photographic work

Wana’ Slow Down and Relax?

I woke late and discovered with delight that my ankle had stopped hurting, and after packing up my gear headed to the DOC office to inquire about camping in the park. Here, I made a big mistake. As it turns out, camping is a highly controversial issue in New Zealand and for good reason. Kiwis would like it if people were free to camp anywhere, especially in the gorgeous national parks which provide millions of acres of scenic delights. Of course, if even a portion of the millions of tourists to New Zealand annually decided to ‘camp anywhere’ in the national parks, the parks would be a much different environment to discover. So when I asked the slightly grumpy DOC officer about camping at Kea Point on the 13^th, I received the very firm instruction that camping in the park was allowed only at the huts, none of which were within a four hour walk from town. As I later found out from another, more open DOC officer, I should have just gone ahead and camped in the park, ensuring to pitch my tent only as dusk fell. I got the company rule at Mt Cook, and I got the practical insider’s advice later. No DOC officers patrol these walks overnight and if you are up with first light and hike out all your garbage, there won’t be any problems – the slogan take only pictures, leave only footprints seems particularly apt. Disappointed and not particularly feeling like testing the system and thoroughness of the Mt Cook DOC officers, I decided to move on from Mt Cook. I walked to the only road in and out of Aoraki and stuck out the thumb, this time with no sign. Turns out signs are unnecessary and within 10 minutes I had a ride with a travelling businessman (remember this guy for my later blogs) all the way along Lake Pukaki to where the road forked away from Wanaka (my destination) to Christchurch (his destination). At a very convenient intersection where traffic from Mt Cook has a stop sign and where traffic from Christchurch is instructed to slow, I waited for around an hour, eventually pulling out a book and sticking out my thumb only as cars approached. This was the beginning of some bad luck with hitchhiking, and although a friendly German couple eventually picked me up, they were only able to take me 20km down the road to the small town of Twizel (pop. 1020), home to...nothing. On a slow section of the highway just outside of Twizel I stood for almost two hours before the German couple returned from the town and took me 30km further down the road to the even tinier town of Omarama, home to a whopping 320 people. They were unsure if they were staying the night, but I decided that to break my bad luck with hitchhiking, I would stay the night and see what the tiny town had to offer. I checked in at the Holiday Park and for only $15  (that’s only around $12CAD) I had my own site with access to all the amenities, including their showers and paid – but cheap – laundry facilities. I wandered down the road to the Lonely Planet recommended Wrinkly Ram Cafe and Restaurant and was delightfully surprised by the service, quality of food, and spectacular scenery from the covered front porch. Here I perched myself for over four hours, pounding out a couple blog entries and reading while enjoying delicious coffee and a tasty chicken burger. I settled in for a quiet night back at the campground of blog writing (I got three done and posted that day) and laundry before getting back to the tent.

The night off from hitchhiking seemed to do the trick and when I stuck out my thumb the next morning I waited only 20 minutes before I was picked up by a Kiwi going all the way to Wanaka. As you quickly realise when hitchhiking, there are all sorts of people out there and there is no one type of person who picks up hitchhikers. This time I was picked up by a well to do farmer and land owner who was on his way to Wanaka to tend to his vacation home. He was an excellent source of information on the New Zealand economy and his background in farming leant an interesting perspective on recent economic changes. He dropped me off at Wanaka’s iSite and headed off for unknown destinations. iSites are New Zealand’s answer to consistent tourism information, not intended to push deals and packages on anyone. While different cities in Canada all might have their own local information centre (usually marked with the universal italic letter ‘i’), iSites are the same in every city of New Zealand, offering booking services for local attractions and accommodation, as well as attractions in the nearby regions and information for travelling the entire country. They are highly useful and their standardisation lends a sense of order and uniformity regardless of New Zealand destination. I checked with the local YHA but found cheaper accommodation at the Wanaka Lakeview Holiday Park for only $16/night in my tent.

In Wanaka I found a quiet town of only 3500, hitting far above its weight in activities and attractions. The gateway to the famous Mt Aspiring National park, Wanaka is also home to countless adventure activities and is often seen as the cheaper, less exploited version of Queenstown (more on that in another blog to come). I ended up staying in Wanaka for five nights and enjoyed every minute of it. As I was getting settled in the town, Wanaka was winding up for Challenge Wanaka, their annual triathlon event drawing hundreds from around the world for sprints, single events, and a full triathlon race. Tents were in various stages of completion in the city’s central park, staging was being readied to cross above the road, and local businesses were gearing up for a large influx of tourists and competitors. I headed for an internet cafe and filled my family in on the drama of the previous couple of days before enjoying a quiet night on the campsite, catching a bit of television in the communal TV room.

The next day I had some plans for serious sightseeing. Actually; no, not at all. Wanaka was clearly a quiet town uninfluenced by visiting thrill seekers and I quickly fell into the same groove, relaxing and taking it easy. Unlike my European trip, it was already clear New Zealand was going to be quite relaxing; and that is more than fine by me. This day was supposed to be fun filled, but one thing was cancelled and there was a mix up at another, so both were postponed until the next day. I occupied my evening walking out to Waterfall Creek, following a walking trail along the beach from Wanaka an easy few kilometres and was rewarded with wonderful views of the town, the rest of Lake Wanaka and surrounding mountains. Misnamed, the end of the trail does not have a wonderful waterfall, but does have a lovely creek to explore. I found a log straddling the creek on the beach and perched myself on it enjoying another supper of OSM bar. I spent some time skipping rocks on the serene lake and wandered around the creek. I practiced being a good tourist and tried to rescue a trout stuck in the stream, placing him in the lake to swim free, but was disappointed when he simply sank belly up to the bottom (but not before I got a photo with all 15cm of him to prove I did some form of fishing in the region famous for its  trout fishing). I enjoyed a slow walk back on the beach as the sun set in a clear sky over the mountain peaks, reflected off the calm lake. A white faced heron even cooperated with me for an impromptu photo shoot, calmly fishing at the lake’s edge while allowing me to approach to within a couple metres to shoot numerous photos. What was supposed to be an exciting day became a relaxing and peaceful day, wonderful either way.

On the 16^th all my plans panned out as they were supposed to the day before and a wonderful day was set before me. I started my day with my new friend Glen, a former local of Wanaka who is doing his rounds through New Zealand promoting his business of teaching marketing through new social networking media. We enjoyed a wonderful full NZ breakfast and a typically delicious coffee at the Cheeky Monkey Cafe. I wandered back to the campsite where I was picked up at 11 by the shuttle for Skydive Wanaka and was off to the airport. I was going to test my nerve and bank account, ditching a perfectly good plane at 15,000ft with a guy and a parachute strapped to my back. I knew I wanted to skydive and it’s not every day you get the opportunity, but in New Zealand you can skydive just about anywhere. I chose Wanaka because of their perfect safety record (three words you like hearing before jumping out of a plane), the scenery, and their relatively small size. I could have waited until Queenstown but heard rave reviews for Skydive Wanaka and spent my $395 there. $295 gets you out the door at 12,000ft, and the extra $100 gives you 3,000ft and 15 seconds more freefall. Go big or go home...so I sprung for the 15,000 and before long I was circling above the Wanaka region in a small plane, in an extensive harness with a very confident tandem skydive master tightly fastened to my harness. I took confidence in the fact he had over 15,000 total jumps under his belt, and even greater confidence in his calm and casual manner. In fact, the whole experience with Skydive Wanaka was wonderful. From the moment I got in the shuttle van and gave the driver my name, I was “David” to everyone. Not once did someone squeak out of calling me by name and it was a refreshing experience to finally have a name at a tourism operation. The main benefit of Skydive Wanaka is its smaller size than the more popular Queenstown based operation. All the staff was friendly and smiled sincerely; I could tell they enjoyed what they were doing and their cheerful mood contributed to my confidence. But back to me in the plane! At 15,000ft, the door opens and you watch the people before you slip out the door into the abyss below, slowly moving down the bench until it’s your turn. The tandem master sits on the edge of the plane, which of course leaves you sitting on...nothing. Ass hanging out over 15,000ft of nothing, you assume the correct skydiving position, and out you go, tumbling through a couple somersaults before stabilising in the commonly seen spread eagle position. The flight down lasts 60 seconds from 15,000ft before the chute is opened at 5000ft, and it’s a minute of pure joy. Heights are not an issue; you’re so far up it looks like viewing a map. Backing out is not an issue; communication in the plane is difficult at best, and no refunds are given. Once you’re at 15,000ft, the only thing to do is enjoy the flight down. I’ve heard people speak of the joy of weightlessness which is technically correct, but I found holding my arms in the correct position difficult enough the sense of weightlessness was lost and it just felt like standing in an extremely powerful hurricane with winds of 200km/hr. Breathing must be done through the nose or the pressure difference between your open mouth and your nose make inhalation difficult – something not explained to me causing me minor difficulty in breathing. At 5000ft and with little warning, the chute is opened and you are jerked into your harness which is quickly readjusted to give you a little more wiggle room and to increase comfort, allowing you to focus on the enjoyment of the slow flight to the ground. I have to say I have no idea how long the parachute flight lasted, I was hopped up enough on adrenaline that nothing really mattered, least of all time. The tandem master showed off a bit by demonstrating some aerial acrobatics and sharing some positive G force before instructing on how to land. Both passenger and tandem master approach the ground with legs up, ready to slide to a stop on the rear, but if the approach is correct and the winds cooperate, a landing can be accomplished standing. Most injuries occur when the passenger doesn’t put their legs parallel to the ground and roll their ankles as they try to run upon touching the ground. The landing in this case was a perfect standing touchdown and I walked back to the hanger in a trance before realising I had the typical dumb grin on my face, the kind that usually hangs around for a couple hours after your first skydiving experience. I didn’t opt for any photo or video options as they start at $140, but the memory of the experience alone is still strong and I’m sure I will always remember my first skydive.

How do you follow up skydiving? I don’t think you really can beat an experience like that so I opted for a bit of relaxation and headed for the Cinema Paradiso, a Wanaka tourist attraction in its own right. Not just any cinema, here you enjoy a movie in an odd assortment of couches, lay-z-boys, airline seats, or even a car, while eating homemade ice cream, cookies, and any variety of drinks. Around the middle of the film, the lights come back up and you take the opportunity to stretch your legs, get some freshly baked cookies, or pick up a meal you ordered before the movie started which you are invited to take back into the theatre on a tray and enjoy during the rest of the film. I was at the cinema for Sherlock Holmes and I ordered the chicken quesadilla and a delicious (and still oven warm) homemade double chocolate cookie which accompanied me back into the theatre for the second half. The theatre is all about the experience of the cinema visit, and from the homemade goodies to the eclectic chairs, the Cinema Paradiso is purely original. Adding to the experience is the owner/projectionist, a man who refuses to properly study the art of projection and routinely messes up. The mix ups are accompanied by an apology and a promise to quickly right things. In my case, a completely different movie started and was promptly shut off, the house lights coming up with a shout of, “shit, my bad, I don’t even know what film that is. Gimme a sec!” Transitions between reels (because of course films are still stored on multiple reels) range from perfect to completely messed up, once in his first showing of the original Star Wars skipping from reel one to reel five and not even realising his mistake, never having seen the film before. To get mad at such mistakes would be silly though, it’s all part of the character of the cinema, and frankly, the projectionist is the funniest part of a visit. Love it; recommend it; and will definitely go back if in Wanaka again.

To Sum-it Up…

If breathtaking scenery and landscapes are the real New Zealand, I was in for a magnificent start in this wonderful country. I was getting out of the city on the 11^th, hopefully getting as far as Lake Tekapo to the south west of Christchurch on the highway through the centre of the South Island. Hmmmm, hopefully...what does this mean? Yes; David is back to hitchhiking! I will be hitching my way around New Zealand my entire stay, saving plenty of money to spend on treats (big or little); of which New Zealand has many. My first stop of the day was to a bookstore where I purchased a Lonely Planet guide book to New Zealand, and a Lonely Planet guide book to hikes in New Zealand. Unfortunately, like all books in New Zealand and Australia, they were grossly overpriced by North American standards and each cost me $60NZD, just over $45CAD. I caught a city bus to the edge of the city, and took up my place beside the road. My goal was Lake Tekapo, around 220km from Christchurch, only waited 15 minutes with my sign in hand before I was picked up by a man who worked at a resort at the lake itself. It was a huge stroke of luck but also a sign of many good rides to come.

The ride from Christchurch was stunning and experiencing it with a local was highly beneficial. He was able to point out many features and landmarks, explaining the significance and history. We drove through the mountains to Lake Tekapo where he left me at the iSite – something I would become quite familiar with in the future – before proceeding to the YHA on the lakefront. For only $12NZD I was allowed to set up my new tent on the waterfront and use all the indoor amenities; my first introduction to the positive attitude towards tenting in New Zealand. My first impressions of Lake Tekapo were mixed, the amazing scenery offset by heavy fog and light rain. Fortunately, by the time I paid my fees the rain had stopped, and by the time I had set up my tent the fog was starting to lift. Once the view was clearer, I was able to fully appreciate the scenery the lake had to offer. One of many glacial fed lakes on the South Island, the turquoise blue water draws the eye while the backdrop of mountains keeps you staring seemingly for ages. Like glacial lakes in Canada, the  water has a turquoise blue and almost milky colour because of tiny suspended rock particles from glacial movement thousands of years ago. A town of barely over 300 people, there is not much to do in the town, but the neighbouring Mount John offers many opportunities for sightseeing. One can climb to the top in a three hour return trip taking you almost straight up one side of the mountain while the other side is a meandering path along the lake side eventually climbing up (or down) a gentle slope. For the less able (or less motivated) there are nightly tours by bus to the top where you can visit Canterbury University’s Mt John Observatory, catching a glimpse of the stars through powerful optics on a clear night. Already late afternoon by this time, I opted for the hike, taking the sloping side up the mountain at the top of which I enjoyed ‘supper’ of an OSM bar while taking in the view from my vantage point.

Anyone familiar with PowerBars knows that not only are most ‘energy bars’ generally unhealthy, but disgusting and lacking some crucial dietary requirements. The Kiwi solution is the One Square Meal bar. Made from all natural ingredients, two OSM bars = One Square Meal – literally. Two bars contain 1/3 your daily requirement of everything, from calories to carbs, from fat to fibre, not to mention all the vitamins and essential minerals. Technically, one can live on nothing but OSM bars, and while it would be a bland existence it would be calorically well measured and nutritionally fulfilling. That they taste pretty good certainly helps their popularity (especially with the chunks of either apricot or cranberry and glue made of honey), and their endorsement by such outdoor legends as Olympic triathlon gold medal winner Hamish Carter gives them a certain authority in the field of sport and ‘on the trail’ healthy eating. I have spent a couple days eating nothing but OSM bars, and while you don’t feel quite full, a little water helps the oats expand some and leaves you feeling satisfied. I have heard that sales will begin soon in the USA and hope they might find their way into the Canadian market as well (that is, unless I’m sick of them by the end of my time here). After enjoying my nutritionally fulfilling meal I descended the steep path on the town side of the mountain. The free map recommends doing things the other way around, a steep ascent followed by a slow walk down the other side and finding my ankles in pain after the quick descent I understood why this was recommended. The continual shock of stepping downhill on a steep grade leaves the ankles a little tender and for the next couple of days I had to take it easy on them. Still quite cloudy at dusk, the sunset was less dramatic than I was hoping for, but I enjoyed some time blogging indoors before spending my first night in my wee one man tent. As it turns out, the tent is perfect for one person around my size with little extra room lengthwise, and just enough room to take a bag full of equipment spread out all around you, creating a cosy nest which I feel quite comfortable in the middle of.

I woke early on the 12^th and walked a short distance to the iconic Church of the Good Sheppard on the lakefront of Lake Tekapo. Built in 1935 in respect and commemoration to all the sheep farmers who at the time – and to some effect, still – kept the New Zealand economy going, the all stone church was built on the shore, respecting the natural surroundings with as little destruction to the surrounding flora as possible. Bushes were only cut back as far as they needed to be and only local stones were  used. Large stones in the ground became part of the foundation and the result is a church which feels like it belongs there, like it has always been there. The interdenominational Christian services are run at least weekly and the congregation (non-locals welcomed) is treated to spectacular views of the lake from the window behind the pulpit looking out over the lake to the mountains in the distance (no need to snooze in church with a view like that!). I wandered the premises around 7am as recommended in the Lonely Planet guide book and was able to avoid the droves of tourists that show up around 9 by the bus load. 7am on a lake like Tekapo is a wonderful time as such a small town has little nocturnal activity and the town is just waking up around then, treating the early morning tourist to carless roads which lend to an amazing quiet ambiance.

After packing up my tent and gear I wrote out my sign for Mt Cook while still in the hostel and was quickly approached by a young Swiss couple offering me a ride for in the same direction. No money was asked and I gladly threw my gear in the back of their tiny car (already heavily laden with gear) and climbed in with it. If I thought nothing could beat the ride through the mountains to Lake Tekapo, I was delightfully surprised by the ride to Mt Cook. For the last 30km on the ride to Mt Cook, you drive alongside the glacial Lake Pukaki where you gaze in awe at Mt Cook which looms at the end of the lake, overshadowing any surrounding peak as it stands the tallest mountain in New Zealand at 3755m. Arriving in the town of Mt Cook or Aoraki (Maori name), you are surrounded by mountains and overwhelmed by the enormity of the scenery. Taking it easy on my tender ankle, I checked into the only hostel in the town (a YHA) at $30/night since no camping was allowed, and enjoyed some time with my feet up. Feeling a little too lazy, I got out and visited the Sir Edmund Hillary Alpine Centre in the Hermitage Hotel/Resort. A national icon, Sir Hillary was the first man in the world to summit Mt Everest, and this along with his later philanthropic work in the Himalayas has made him a source of great national pride (even getting his face on NZ money!). The centre presents the history the area, its exploration and settlement by New Zealanders, and its Maori history and cultural significance. Remember when I was disappointed in Cardiff because the so called Welsh Museum failed to present a distinct reason why Wales is any different from the rest of the UK? That’s not something I expect to run into here.

Another of the Edmund Hillary Centre’s attractions is its planetarium, offering an intense glimpse into the universe’s wonders and mysteries. Seated all the way back in your chair and looking up into the spherical screen, the show feels 3D and their programming gives wonderful insight 

into the stars in the sky, the phenomena of black holes and other astronomical delights. I thoroughly enjoyed the shows, but sitting and watching intense shows works up an appetite and I went to the overpriced but luxurious Old Mountaineer Restaurant for a meal deal from YHA, $30 for an appetiser and main with a glass of beer. It was tasty and thoroughly enjoyed, although the price tag was still a little hefty, just one of the consequences of eating out in a town with two restaurants and under 50 permanent residents. Later in the evening I took a casual two hour round trip walk to Kea Point where I enjoyed the views toward Mt Cook and the nearby glaciers. I found a lovely spot I wished to camp at and decided on asking the Department of Conservation (DOC) the next day about camping there. As the evening wore on I spoke with some of my international roommates before enjoying a solid night of comfortable sleep in what would turn out to be my last real bed for over two weeks.

Across the Tasman Sea

Sorry about the lack of photos, I just wasn’t feeling all that inspired to take many photos around this time…

Farewell to Australia (for now) and hello to New Zealand; land of Kiwis (and kiwis), friendly smiles and sheep...lots and lots of sheep (48 million in fact). I will be in New Zealand from the 8^th of January to the 1^st of March when I will fly from Auckland back to Sydney for the rest of my time in Australia. My flight New Zealand started from Melbourne Tullamarine airport at a highly civilised 5pm and landed at Christchurch International at an uncivilised 7am. I said my goodbyes to Jenny the night before as she had work in the early morning, and said bye to Paul on the way out the door around 2. I did a thorough sweep of the apartment to make sure I had not left anything, and away I went, catching the tram two blocks before getting the sinking feeling I had forgotten something. Now, some might find this funny (I certainly do), but as I rushed back to the apartment I couldn’t help but feel stupid up for leaving my towel somewhere yet again! I knew it was hopeless going back and indeed Paul had left for groceries, so this makes the second time I have lost a nice travel towel. Sighhhhhh. I hopped back on the tram to the rail station and caught the SkyBus to the airport on the return ticket I had purchased on arrival. The first real snag was upon check in at the airport.

A moment to discuss New Zealand visa regulations: A Canadian traveller need not apply for a visa in New Zealand unless travelling with the intent to work or stay longer than three months. A quick search of visa websites will confirm this, but make no mention of the need for a ticket out of the country. This might be obvious to some, and indeed in retrospect it seems obvious to me, but unless you are travelling under a paid visa (eg. working holiday or long stay visa) you must have proof of a ticket out of the country. I suppose after being spoiled by Europe where the continental nature means you could exit the Shengen area any number of ways, I forgot about the possibility. The lady serving me at the Air New Zealand check in counter told me that the number of people who forget or do not know this stipulation is very high, and it is quite common for her to refer a customer to the ticket sales kiosk before allowing them to check in. Fortunately, to save money I had already booked my ticket out of New Zealand with Air New Zealand and only had to run to an internet kiosk nearby to get the booking number for her to print out a ticket. Now everyone can learn from my mistake and be prepared!

Having gone the cheap route, my flight first took me to Wellington with an overnight stopover before continuing to Christchurch. Cheap or not, flying Air New Zealand was an absolute delight. By far my favourite airline thus far, the cheerful tone is first set by a friendly welcoming and with a preflight safety video featuring naked flight attendants, their uniforms body-painted on. Safety objects and seating are used to obscure any unmentionables, but for the first time I have ever witnessed, everyone on board actually paid full attention to the video; men no doubt checking out the hot flight attendants, women surely keeping an eye on the buff pilot wearing nothing but paint. It’s more than a safety video; it’s an advertising campaign for which the company is very proud, using television commercials to promote their dedication to safety. Whether they’re promoting safety or not, I think there are more than a few guys who will be flying Air New Zealand again! The landing was extremely turbulent, jumping and plummeting like a rollercoaster for 20 minutes before landing. Passengers on board were clearly worried and I saw more than a few faces buried in hands or partner’s arms, but would you be worried if I said I sort of enjoyed it? I paid good money for a flight, might as well get some entertainment in there as well! Think of it as a free rollercoaster ride with your ticket. The plane touched down very softly – especially considering how rough the approach was – and there was a universal sigh of relief, just short of a round of applause for the pilot. Disembarking, I had the chance to speak with the pilot who admitted that Wellington is the only city he has ever landed in which is windier than Chicago (famed as ‘the windy city’). After a thorough but polite visit through customs, I had the lovely prospect of seven hours in the airport – hopefully. See, Wellington is not a large airport and the terminal closes after the last flight. I spoke to an airline representative just before customs about staying in the airport overnight and quietly, almost in a whisper, she told me to “speak to one of the men in orange vests at baggage claim”. Feeling all of a sudden very clandestine, I approached one of these orange clad men and in a similar near whisper said to him, “I was told to speak to a man in an orange vest about staying in the airport overnight.” He studied me carefully, looking me head to toe before replying in a hushed tone, “Which airline are you flying with tomorrow morning?” I told him Air New Zealand, and with one last evaluating glare, he told me simply, “follow me.” So I did, with my bag in a cart he lead me to the elevator and pressed the button for the first floor. “Outside the elevator, turn left then go straight ahead until you come to a lounge area. You can wait there overnight, but you are not to leave that area. Understood?” I nodded eagerly in agreement and rode the elevator up a floor alone. Following his direction I came to the aforementioned lounge area finding a dozen travellers apparently in the same situation as me. Welcome to the Wellington Overnight Club! Well, not quite a club, we are the special few who apparently rode the right airline and have the privilege of occupying a cafe bench for a night of sleep or boredom. Frankly, I did feel special. I hung out with an Aussie mother with her two daughters making small talk as the night became morning, and enjoyed watching the airport come alive around 6am. Did I say enjoying? Whoops, I meant to say enduring. A night of no sleep means a grumpy David, but effortlessly checking into the next flight and sitting through the amusing pre-flight video put me in a humorous mood. The flight was uneventful (as all good flights should be) and I was soon in Christchurch. I took a local bus into the city and a very friendly driver helped me get off at exactly the right stop for my hostel. Ahhh; my first experience with a regular, working Kiwi. Yes; Kiwis refer to themselves as Kiwis, and yes, they are proud of it. This Kiwi always had a smile and greeted every rider with a friendly greeting; from the first minute, I was hooked on New Zealand. The Dorset House hostel was a great pick, the only hostel in Christchurch featuring free WiFi, and situated in a lovely old building. Of course if I thought Australia redefined my concept of “old”, I was in for a shock with New Zealand. While cities like Christchurch feature a good amount of the Victorian architecture popular in the mid to late 1800’s, the rest of the country has little in the way of old architecture.

After a phone call home to check in and assure everyone my plane had not crashed, I set about exploring the city and searching for a towel. The city of Christchurch is flat...no kidding, the tallest building might be five storeys, and it stands out like a sore thumb. One thing the city has in abundance is land, and as such the city has sprawled out rather than building up. Never before have I seen a city of over 300,000 look so dead, but wandering the streets of Christchurch one is left wondering where all the people went. There is the usual mix of backpackers and tourists to whom I would grow accustomed to over the next month, but locals seemed few and far between. Here I also had my first run in with the South Pacific brand of backpacker, and here I would learn to wish they didn’t exist. In Europe most backpackers are the practical ‘take a year off from school and work to sightsee and learn about the world before getting back to real life’ type. New Zealand and Australia attract a different type of backpacker, more the ‘I hate life because I’m so much more individualistic than anyone else so I’m going to run away from everything and just bum around the world because life can’t catch up to me as long as I have my shitty old van and guitar kum-by-ah’ type (try saying that 10 times, fast). I could rant on all day about how much I dislike so many of these people, but I will save you. For a personal rant, feel free to contact me, I love to rant about this particular brand of backpackers. Finding a towel at one of the city’s many outdoor stores, I returned to the hostel and crashed, sleeping through the evening. I woke around 10 and scrounged around in the free food bin, making myself some rice with tuna before returning to bed and passing out again.

I spent the 9^th exploring the lovely city of Christchurch from corner to corner. Oh wait...no I didn’t; I spent the day being a lazy bum. I ventured out into the city, and quickly returned to the hostel to laze around somewhere else. Christchurch is a pretty city with a lovely city centre, but it is mostly a point of entry for New Zealand and lacks much of a tourist scene. The city is best characterised by the English architecture and design which speaks strongly to its founding as a most English of cities in the late 1800’s. And indeed in a time when Australia was a penal colony only suitable for those who are tough enough to brave the rugged outback and those who didn’t have a choice, New Zealand was the civilised ‘England away from England’ many sought. A model of the perfect Victorian town, Christchurch was founded and advertised to settlers as the England of the Southern Hemisphere. To this day Christchurch is a quiet and conservative city which peacefully goes about its business, only asking that visitors follow suit with its upright and proper atmosphere. There are attractions in the city and one can spend a lovely day punting on the River Avon in front of City Hall and through the numerous, well maintained green spaces or enjoy a refined lunch before visiting the Canterbury Museum and the neighbouring Botanical Gardens. Christchurch really is though, a haven of civility in a country swarming with bumming backpackers and voracious party animals. I took in the Canterbury Museum (named for the province of Canterbury in which Christchurch resides) which has a detailed and well presented history of the local area and Maori and European settlement, before grabbing a humongous burger at a burger joint.

The following day was more of the same. I briefly enjoyed the Art Centre Market, exploring the handmade items from local Christchurchers and enjoying the local rendition of the Doner Kebap. I wandered out of the city centre to the Pak’n’Save – New Zealand’s discount supermarket – and stocked up on One Square Meal Bars (more on these in another blog post) and other high energy, low size food before another lazy night at the hostel. I scavenged through the free food bin and enjoyed a lovely curry on rice. Fortunately I was spared cohabitation with the aforementioned annoying backpackers, but instead dealt with 20 or so spiritual wanderers. A conference was held in Christchurch during my visit, an interfaith emporium on the magic of meditation. Nothing against meditation, I believe it is a wonderful way for one to get in touch with themselves and their spirituality, but their conference literally involved over 1500 people (from all over the world) simultaneously meditating, “sending each other strong spiritual vibes and exploring other’s inner soul.” I won’t judge, if this sort of thing helps people to learn and explore their personal spirituality, that’s cool, but it sounds like a pretty convenient excuse to claim time off work for “religious reasons” while visiting a conference with an official timeline of two weeks while actual meetings were scheduled for three days.

Christchurch is a very proper city, certainly not the kind to which one pilgrimages for the outrageous nightlife. It was a very quiet and gentle introduction to New Zealand and while there wasn’t a heck of a lot to do, I enjoyed the comfortable bed and chill atmosphere in which to recover from a crappy flight schedule. I don’t imagine it would be an exciting city to live in, but it is the type of city where one could easily balance amenities and events with a quiet and peaceful atmosphere. I will find myself passing through Christchurch again but there aren’t too many reasons to stay any length of time. It is the type of city one can easily see in a couple days with lots of room to spare. Of course, New Zealand isn’t a country you visit for the cities; you visit for the breathtaking scenery and landscapes.

Note to reader: this would make the blog post with the least photos so far!  What can I say; losing towels, visa regulations, airplane travel and waiting overnight in terminals is boring…

When in Melbourne…Relax!

Back to Melbourne, and back to the summer vacation routine. Noooo, not sightseeing; lazing around! I took the opportunity on the 4^th to buy a tent and some other assorted supplies for my upcoming trip to New Zealand. I purchased from a surplus store called Aussie Disposals that specialises in military surplus and cheap camping supplies. For $80AUD I got a small one man tent with a fully waterproof fly and floor, weighing only 1.6kg. It’s no professional hiker’s tent and the materials are not quite top of the line, but if it lasts me two months in New Zealand, that’s all I can ask of it. I hope to resell it before I come home for at least $10-20, but after almost two months of sleeping in it (I hope) it will have more than paid for itself.

As if it were possible to do less than I did on the 4^th, I managed it on the 5^th, and if I recall correctly, I didn’t even leave the apartment. Gosh, I do love vacation!

The 6^th was my last day in Melbourne and my last day for a couple months in Australia, so I decided to be the good tourist and do some sightseeing. What to see...what to see... Ah yes, St Kilda! An area as famous for its beaches as it is for its posh, laid back residents, St Kilda is the beach haven of Melbourne. I borrowed Jenny’s bike for the day and biked 8 kilometres south and voila; white sands and blue water as far as the eye can see! The area of St Kilda is built up with trendy pubs and restaurants, a mecca for backpackers and everyone looking to chill out. The beach front itself stretches on and on, and is best seen by bike from which one can appreciate every bit of the waterfront scenery. I worked up quite an appetite biking an hour down the coast’s well developed bike trails, then biked back with the assistance of the wind at my back for a tasty early afternoon meal. I chose a popular beachfront restaurant (nameless because it was pretty average and thus I forget) and enjoyed their lunchtime special; $25AUD for an entree (I chose mussels in chilli sauce), a main (lamb chops and veg with potato), and a glass of beer. Yummy! Refuelled, I enjoyed a relaxed bike ride back to Melbourne.  Once Jenny was off work we left the apartment for the Queen Victoria Market night market.  Not really sure what to expect, I was delightfully surprised by the hodgepodge of aromas emanating from the food area and the wonderful assortment of crafts and wares available for sale.  Unfortunately, hundreds of others were similarly impressed and the tents were absolutely packed, lines for food extending to 10m and beyond and crowds almost impenetrable.  Fortunately, Jenny and I are both skilled crowd-breakers and we navigated our way through the throngs to have a gander at the crafts before deciding on African cuisine for supper.  Our sampler plates were accompanied by a refreshingly cool, iced sangria and followed by a delicious Nutella and banana crepe for dessert.  I'm glad I got the chance to explore the night market, but I was happier I got the chance to hang out with my sister; something I don't get to do often enough.  Definitely a great way to spend my last night in Melbourne.

All said and done, my stay in Melbourne was a sanity saver. I was able to kick back and relax for a couple of weeks, letting someone else do the planning for any trips. The trips themselves were great and a wonderful sightseeing experience on the south east coast of Australia. Relaxing was far easier staying with family, and the relief of not having to worry about locking up my gear was as welcomed as the comfy bed. Most importantly, I was able to spend Christmas with my family, and while I had to take miss on the at-home Christmas traditions, it was far better than Christmas in a hostel. Eight months alone is a fine amount of time to travel, but after a while the solitary nature of it gets to you. Staying in hostels, you virtually have to be a hermit to not meet people, but these are temporary acquaintances. Occasionally you stay in touch and perhaps even meet again – as I did with Shimrit – but in most cases, these are people I will never see again in my life. You quickly realise that adding everyone you meet on Facebook is impractical, to the point where you can pick out the new traveller by whether they tell you to add them on Facebook (I was there for the first couple of weeks, you meet someone new and hey; ‘add me to Facebook!’). Staying with family is the perfect break from this marathon of temporary acquaintances. Even relaxing and doing nothing, I was perfectly content in Melbourne.

Melbourne itself is a city I quickly grew to like. From my first moments in the city walking to my sister’s apartment, to my short trip to St Kilda, I enjoyed every minute of my time there. I’m sure my experience with the city is coloured by the enjoyable stay with Jenny and Paul, but on its own merits Melbourne is a city that impresses. By day, Melbourne is a lively city with plenty facilities for tourists. From its free tourist bus to the free city circle tram, transportation is cheap and easy. I think I’ve started to base my ‘sightseeing’ standards on what I saw in Europe, and by those standards, Melbourne doesn’t have a lot to offer. But a 175 year old city can’t have a Colosseum, a Tower Bridge, or a Blarney stone and as a tourist I have to change my mind set for the next four months, enjoying a different kind of scenery in countries that aren’t even as old as my own. But Melbourne knows that they don’t have the long history of Europe, and they have created their own brand of sights for seeing. Melbourne has a large portion of the old architecture in Australia and proudly displays its short history in stone. A wide variety of ways to relax are on offer, many entirely for free. The city has a facade of seriousness, its Central Business District home to many impressive skyscrapers and important businesses in the Australian economy; but at heart, Melbourne is a laid back city. Dotted with parks and recreational areas, family time is enjoyed to the max outdoors with free public BBQ’s and plenty of space to play a game of soccer (they call it that here) or Frisbee. Melbourne is subject to cold winters (by Aussie standards at least) and the locals appreciate a warm weekend, taking full advantage of these awesome public facilities. This is just the Aussie way of life and they are surprised to learn there is any other kind of attitude. Any visitor to Melbourne should soak up some of the history, go to the Melbourne Museum (I didn’t, but I hear it’s worth it if you have the spare time), take the free tourist bus; but most importantly, relax. See Melbourne like the locals do, with a cool drink in a sunny park on a warm day.

A Temporary Lapse in Laziness

January 1^st, 2010; it was the start of a new year and the start of a new journey. This was a trip Jenny and I had been discussing for a while, and she planned quite a voyage for the three of us down the Great Ocean Road, a coastal route to the west of Melbourne. Soldiers returning from The Great War faced the prospects of an economy with few jobs for them, so to keep busy they were put to work building a road which would follow the many curves of the coast for a couple hundred kilometres, occasionally going inland for a different kind of scenery. The scenery is phenomenal and hugely popular, taken in by thousands of tourists daily. Kilometre after kilometre of spectacular views awaits for over 200km.

Stopping in the town of Apollo Bay, we enjoyed a quick fish and chips supper before going to learn horseback riding. Opting for a 2.5 hour ride, we were kitted up with old boots and smelly helmets before meeting our 16 year old instructor, Will, and meeting our horses. First off, I know 21 isn’t all that old (my age, in case you forgot...) and I still feel quite young a lot of the time; but when I am being taught to ride horses by someone five years my junior...yes, I feel old. I was introduced to Sylvester, an independently minded horse quite used to being ridden by instructors. He tolerated my initial jitters and lack of confidence and with the help of Will, I quickly became confident in my ability to stay on, steer and give speed instructions. Jenny and Paul seemed to be doing quite well, although Jenny’s horse did two of the three necessary actions of life whenever the opportunity presented itself (or made its own opportunities) and Paul’s horse was quite indecisive about speed. The three of us were soon able to trot with some confidence and Will introduced us to the speedy canter. A few minor chaffing injuries aside, the ride went well and was an excellent experience, my first time riding a horse! We all did our own renditions of the cowboy walk (unintentionally) back to the car and tenderly sat down; horseback riding is something you get used to over time. We checked into the simple but clean Great Ocean View Motel in Apollo Bay for a highly anticipated night of sleep.

The 2^nd was a day for sightseeing and we made the most of it, driving to the end of the famous road. The road has frequent pull off areas for sightseeing, each with its own magnificent view. We visited such misnamed sights as the 12 Apostles (rock structures just off the coast, and no, there are not 12 of them) and London Bridge (a formerly dual arched rock structure which collapsed earlier this year, leaving only one arch). We tried to spot a ship wreck in Loch Ard Gorge, named for the ship which crashed there over a hundred years ago (we were unsuccessful, and I believe the ship itself is long gone, smashed to pieces on the rocks). We took a trip down a side road and spotted at least 20 koala bears in the wild, getting as close as 2m to one which was happily munching away on eucalyptus. It was a wonderfully relaxing day filled with gorgeous scenery and scenic drives, but after a full day of sightseeing, bed back at the Ocean View Motel was the most welcome kind of attraction.

On the 3^rd we drove back to Melbourne taking our time to do some hikes through the forest, having mostly recovered from the horseback riding. In this part of Australia, you can park in the middle of a eucalypt forest, walk five minutes and suddenly find yourself in a hot and humid rainforest. Trekking through the rainforest, your ears are treated to many foreign sounds of animals heard but not seen and your nose is gently assaulted by the smell of dead flora decomposing on the moist forest floor. The rainforest holds many scenic delights; waterfalls, great fern forests and streams are just a few of the things we admired on our hike. Getting late, we continued our drive back to Melbourne in time for Jenny to go to work that evening (what a trooper she is!). The roads are twisty-turny, but well maintained and a pleasure to be a passenger on. Paul expertly navigated the car despite the cliff edge roads, erratic tourists trying to sightsee and drive simultaneously, and managed to stay positive through the whole experience. Serious kudos to Paul for that one!

The Great Ocean Road is frequented by hundreds of busses loaded with tourists, and if you intend on seeing sights like the 12 Apostles, be prepared to battle your way through great tourist hoards. Locations like the rainforest walk are less popular and far more solitary, but regardless of the  presence of other tourists (as much as I would like to deny it, I’m just another tourist) all of the sights hold their own allure. There’s a reason thousands of tourists travel the road daily and the feast for all five senses is guaranteed to leave awestruck. Yes, there are annoyances; but past the crowds, price gouging, erratic drivers and tourist traps is one of the world’s must do drives – and it’s a must for a reason.

Life is Good Down Under

Ahhhh, life down under... It doesn’t get much better than this. Warm weather and lots of sun are only made better by a people who seriously know how to kick it back and relax. Of course by the time I came back to consciousness after my long slumber, it was Christmas Eve and there was lots to do! Actually, there was nothing to do which was quite to my liking. Definitely not feeling quite in sync with the local schedule, I desired nothing more than a good relaxing day. After getting some groceries, we did just that with a short break to go to a Christmas Eve carol and children service at a small Anglican church. The service was an interesting mix of Anglican tradition and story/song to keep the kids interested. The priest was friendly and welcoming to all, and it felt good to keep at least one tradition from Christmas at home; although regardless of how friendly the priest, it still wasn’t Grace. I went to bed that night quite happy that while the family may be separate for Christmas this year, the three of us had made our own little family and kept some Foster traditions alive.

Christmas morning!!! Of course, they’re a little different these years from when I was young and couldn’t wait to wake everyone up at some ungodly hour. We woke at a civilised hour and opened presents as we had breakfast. I honestly was not expecting anything except the deposit in my account mom had told me would be my Christmas present. But mom being mom, she had mailed a small parcel in advance for me, and Jenny contributed with a stocking and some other gifts. Completely unexpected, but gave me a nice feeling for sure. I certainly have a thoughtful family. The rest of the day we spent watching classic Christmas movies (A Christmas Story, Charlie Brown’s Christmas and others) while Jenny laboured over supper. It was a labour of love, and at supper time she was beaming as we admired the magnificent spread on the table. Recipes from mom in hand, she had made a wonderful Christmas dinner; I was happier than ever for not being in a hostel over Christmas. It was an uneventful day, just the way Christmas is supposed to be, and I loved it.

Boxing Day was a different story. Jenny had heard that the cricket Boxing Day Test Match was quite the Australian tradition, so we decided to watch Australia take on Pakistan in the first of five matches at the Melbourne Cricket Grounds. Of course, cricket is not all that big back home so I wasn’t sure what to expect, maybe something like baseball. If you watch the highlight reels or advertisements on Australian TV it seems like quite an exciting game with lots of running, crazed fans body painted on every inch of legally displayable skin, and tons of cheering. Cricket is SO not that exciting. In fact, cricket is one of the most boring sports I have ever witnessed (with the exception of golf; that was never meant to be a spectator sport). On the field there is the occasional moment of action, but with a vague understanding of the rules, it was a tad confusing and there didn’t seem to be anything remotely exciting about it. Fine, like the commercials show, it’s the action in the stands that make it exciting, right? No...not quite. The fans here are quite sedate, clapping politely when the opposing team made a good catch, and even in the ‘crazy’ section where all the body paint was, the festivities were limited to a rather un-insane wave. We stayed for two hours of the match which continued who knows how long, and set about exploring some of the city. Jenny had seen a lot of it already of course, but she seemed enthusiastic to show me some of the city she called home for the past year, and I was happy to be shown around, taking in the sights of a city which was growing on me by the minute. We walked to the sombre Shrine of Remembrance for the Australian soldiers who fought and died in WWI and conflicts since; to the stunning Royal Botanical Gardens in the height of its glory in the beginning of summer; through the busy Central Business District, and back to her apartment. She went to work for the night and I sat around and was lazy. Being lazy was excellent.

On the 28^th, Jenny and Paul had planned a trip to Phillip Island to see the Koala Conservation Centre and the nightly Penguin Parade amongst other stunning sights. Collecting a rental car, we set out on our day trip driving south east of Melbourne, eventually making it to Phillip Island which conveniently has a causeway attaching it to the mainland. This was my first exposure to the Australian coast and it was as stunning as I had imagined it might be. We made it to the Koala Conservation Centre and did a walk through the forest, coming face to face with koalas. Talk about cute! And when you think they don’t get any cuter, you see a young one! I’m not 100% sure why there is a Koala Conservation Centre as the population isn’t endangered at all, the populations very healthy in the wild. While the conservation status differs by Australian state, the national population is healthy and the federal government has them listed as non endangered, but it is noted that a close eye should be kept to make sure the population stays that way. In a little twist, the USA government has the koala listed as a threatened species – right, because they would know better than the country that actually has them. The Koala spends 16-18 hours of the day sleeping, and the rest eating. They eat half a kilogram of eucalyptus leaf a day, obtaining approximately the calories from one bowl of non sugar breakfast cereal and due to a slow metabolism, the eucalyptus they eat today will come out the other end in 20 days. Sloth aside, they are unbelievably cute and the urge to take one home is difficult to fight off. Unfortunately, koalas don’t like being handled and will scratch and bite if you try to touch it. Oh, and it is protected from handling by Australian law as well... From the conservation centre we went to the famous Philip Island Penguin Parade. Blue penguins (or small penguins) are another un-endangered species that is under protection by Australian law. They are also almost as cute as koala bears, although only from afar watching them waddle, not so much up close. Reaching an average of 14” tall, they are the smallest of the penguins and live only in Australia and New Zealand. Here you pay to sit in bleacher like seating to watch them as they come out of the ocean after a day of fishing. They come out of the water in small groups, checking the beach for danger, proceeding cautiously if none is apparent, retreating quickly if they spot anything that spooks them. Oddly, the presence of around 1000 tourists on bleachers does not bother them but that’s because they are keeping an eye out for aerial predators. The presence of sea gulls doesn’t bother them either, as the gulls suspiciously eye them waddling by. The second a gull takes flight however, every penguin on the beach simultaneously flees back to the safety of the water. The gulls do not pose a risk themselves, but the smart little penguins aren’t taking chances. After watching this incredibly cute display for over half an hour, you get the chance to walk the boardwalks through the park and watch the penguins return to their nests. As with all species of penguins, they are monogamous and nest with only one mate unless their mate dies. Once they are in the safety of the grass, they make their specific call which their mate hears and returns, helping them to find their way back to the nest. When they reach the nest (it could be either the male or female who spent the day way fishing) they preen each other briefly in a fantastic display of partnership and then return to the nest where earlier in the season they would have had an egg or chick. The sound as you walk down the boardwalk is amazing, the calls of hundreds of penguins around you searching for their mates. Still, the penguins are not bothered by the presence of hundreds of humans on boardwalks just above the sand and fearlessly scurry under the boardwalk to find their way home. Unfortunately because a good number of people don’t know how to disable the flash on their cameras, the safest policy is to forbid any photos at all, and a camera out of its pouch will get you a warning from the constantly patrolling park staff. Thus, I have no photos of the wonderful event, but I hope I will get another chance to catch penguins in the wild where I can go shutter happy and take millions of photos to share with you like I did with the koala photos – although we both know you love the cute photos...

Now around 10:30, we departed for the city, stopping for supper on the way (see mom, they weren’t feeding me well!) and arriving back at the apartment around midnight. I enjoyed crawling into bed after a long day, and I’m sure we all dreamt of cute animals all night long; talk about cute overdose in one day!

The 29^th I had a dental appointment to take care of a little problem which is unfortunately still unresolved, but seemed alright at the time. Afterwards, Paul and I took a run to the store for groceries and I got the stuff to make my not so famous spaghetti. I enjoyed an afternoon on their covered balcony (the benefit of warm air without the harsh sun) while doing some blog writing before making supper. My spaghetti was generally enjoyed all around, and I think I got the thumbs up from Jenny and Paul. The 30^th I spent doing absolutely nothing except more writing and lazing around before joining Jenny and some of her colleagues at a wonderful dessert shop around 9PM. Brunetti’s is a chocoholic’s fantasy land. Making all variety of gourmet dessert, at least a hundred varieties of sweets from truffles to cake, liquorice to fancy puddings, it’s one of those difficult decisions in life. It brings a whole new meaning to “kid in a candy shop”. Again I did absolutely nothing on the 31^st but laze around (it’s amazing I didn’t catch up on my blog!) and it was terrific. I spent almost four months speeding around Europe and taking in as much as possible with occasional breaks and down time; but in general it was a busy period. Relaxing in the warm weather was fantastic, and it was so perfectly timed in the middle of my trip.

Of course the 31^st was New Years and you can’t not celebrate such an occasion! In Australia, Christmas is a quiet holiday for close family, whereas New Years is an insane holiday for many friends to get together and have an wickedly good time. We enjoyed a quiet time in the apartment watching movies and sipping champagne which was popped before midnight (sorry to all you traditionalists). Small as our party was, there wouldn’t be much in the way of post midnight celebration so we sipped champagne waiting for the New Year to officially be upon us; 15 hours before everyone back in Atlantic Canada. Consider this: not only was it a different day for me than everyone back home (which it still is for seven hours every day since I’m now on New Zealand time), but for 15 hours, it was a different year for me than everyone back home. Now if that doesn’t blow your mind, I don’t know what will! When 2010 finally did come, we finished the movie and went to bed. It might have been anticlimactic, but we had exciting things to do the next day!