a set of wheels!

I think some or in fact lots of beer was involved in Saturday night. We went to a nightclub on the southern part of Queens St, in what appeared to be a disused building. The club was up a large flight of stairs and only cost $5 to get in. After drinking far too many Tequila, Vodka and Redbulls I remember not sleeping much at all, then getting to Ellerslie Racecourse at 10 wandering around aimlessly staring at 15 year old Honda Accords and rusty Ford Falcons. I ended up buying one of the former as it was being sold by a very sweet old Malaysian couple, and I trusted them. My instinct hasnt proved wrong and despite the electrics being slightly suspect, the car is a goer.

I couldnt buy it straight away as it had the family number plate on it, so we drove back to their house to discuss arrangements and hopefully to meet the owner of the car; the couples brother in law, Vincent. He happened to be out playing golf, but his wife was in and she agreed to the price. Charlie the husband in the old couple then walked me to the bus station and told me the story of his family and how many of his relatives had come to New Zealand from Singapore and Malaysia on his recommendation. The majority of them had stayed. I can understand why.

I got back to the hostel, hung-over, tired but relieved that I had bought a car as I was getting sick to death of sitting on buses and being dependant on expensive scheduled routes that take you to towns that everyone else has already gone to, and I went to bed. You know that excitement that you get when you look forward to something special? A christmas when you are 7 where you have asked for a bike, or the excitement going to school the next day, knowing that you will be seeing a girl in Art which you have squirly maelstrom emotions for. Thats how I was looking forward to getting the car.

Myself and Vincent did phone calls on Monday morning, and he came from St Johns (Wood?) to Ponsonby, where we exchanged handshakes and hard cash. I have never understood the pain associated arising from parting with hard cash compared to the lasseiz faire attitude we have to using plastic. Its all a conspiracy with the banks and shops as they know this and exploit this weakness.

I have a car though, a 1987 Honda Accord, 2.0Si, Electric everything, including folding mirrors, Rego ATC569. Notice its not registration or reg but 'rego'. Its started, I can speak a little kiwi eh. Add O's to things if it improves the 'noise' the word makes, and it makes sense, as boring works become exciting and interesting, especially if you have to use them alot. I bought the car because it feels loved. Vincents wife had driven it for most of the time, it only has 130 000km on the clock which is particularly good for a car of its age, and its a manual, as I cant stand auto's and I was worried about reliability. Arent I sensible.

Monday afternoon was beautiful as it was when Phil, Mick, Charlie, Clare and I went out out to Mission Bay. There the girls got creative and built a truly beautiful gecko from sand, while the blokes played football on the beach, sending the girls into the water to fetch the ball whenever necessary and then taking a break from the sport to have a cigarette break. It was finished off nicely with fish and chips. I paid $12 = ? for a LARGE coke, two LARGE chips, a LARGE potato fritter and a LARGE piece of very fresh very tasty fish, possibly called Tawahaki. We got back in time for Phil to get to the dentist for more work and in time for tea.

I spent the rest of the afternoon fitting a car stereo, a CD player one as I dont have tapes, and didnt see the point of listening to old technology. The car has the same wiring loom as my old Rover Sprint and Im sorry to say that I can still remember the colours so wiring it up was a cinch.

I felt now I had a car it was time to go. I was preparing to leave and go back up north.

back at the brown kiwi

Auckland; a city that while beautiful is fairly uninspiring compared with the rest of the country. I came back to the Brown Kiwi as I enjoyed it there last time, and again found it welcoming and pleasant. The people there, the majority of which are British, are nice and I don't feel like Im in the middle of some hormone fuelled school disco with a bunch of kids on their first time away from home, but still the washing up doesnt always get done. I was here to 'get things done' as I now had a mission; a car, an Aussie visa, laundry and a shower.

While I was there that week, Phil went and came back, Charlie had got herself a job at GPK, Sarah was still slaving over soap imported from Littlehampton in the Body Shop on Queens Street, Mick was preparing for Thailand, Sarah was pining over Em and throwing herself into bedmaking, while I remained completely undecided as to what I should do next.

I finally made the Australian Consulate before it shut. It has since moved from 132-138 Quay St to 194 ish Quay St, into the Price Waterhouse Cooper Building. Tuesday afternoon I walk in and ask for the forms to apply for a working holiday visa, which I promptly fill in and hand back. I come back the following day and pick up the visa. Simple isnt it. Much better than taking days off work at home to sort out such trivial stuff, while here it becomes a little adventure and the essence of my existance. I thrive off these little missions as there really isnt anything else more important, such as work, hoovering the flat, shopping, talking to the estate agent, rebuilding the PC or any of those other mundane jobs that I dont have to suffer here.

I tried Turners Car auction on the Wednesday night. That was rather strange as the bloke with the hammer kept going on about "do I see 2, do I see 2" and "beautiful car in the colour". I still haven't fathomed why he placed such emphasis on the special feature that cars that were under the hammer had a colour; it was hardly as if they were transparent, but it kept him in a job so I cant grumble.

After eating lovely Drambuie truffles, chocolate cake, fresh paninis and other such treats, I found that being as accustomed to this healthy (to a point) eating lifestyle, I couldnt readily give it up. I therefore made 'nice food' in the hostel. This always draws a crowd and creates talking points other than the predictable "when I" stories of people in hostels. Ryan and myself swapped recipies and his 'chicken with cuts holding camembert and hazelnuts' has held my interest for some time. I will test it shortly. On this occasion, I was looking to make a soup, so I chopped and roasted pumkin, kumara, capsicum, garlic and red onion, with a generous sprinking of sweet basil. Once roasted I cook and mashed the veg in water and cooked it further, then added milk and ahem, a little of some cream that I 'found' in the fridge. The first bowl I ate that night, the second was after a number of us had gone to the Sponge or the Oval, I cant recall, for a few drinks. The usual munchies crept up and Sarah was demanding food, and I was already heating some soup. This and some toasted Soya and linseed

bread got shared amongst 5 drunk people. Be warned, soup just reheated in the microwave attains properties akin to napalm, and it took nearly 2 weeks for the skin on the roof of my mouth to be repaired.

I ended up cooking for Sarah another night, as she offered some broccoli. Wondrous stuff brocolli. I was orginally going to cook chicken marinated in red wine and rosemary, potato and kumara rosti, creamed parsnips with capsicums and the addition of broccoli made the meal complete. The rosti was an unmitigating disaster, and led to the whole meal being delayed. I used 4 maybe five pans, with the rosti sticking to all of them. I gave up and roasted the greying remnants of the potato and kumara.

While the 'purple chicken' didnt look particularly appetising, it tasted good, and the creamed parsnips worked well, but I think I need some advice on cooking rosti. Doug offered some, including washing the potato first and using cake rings to keep the shape, but I was past the point of no return and needed saving. Sarah ate it and enjoyed the parsnips which she usually despises so it cant have been that bad.

I went to turners again in Penrose on Saturday, as it was an auction with no reserve price. As a consequence I was thinking this would be my day and I would pick up a bargain. It wasnt to be as the crowd was 4 or 5 times that on a Wednesday which was around 50. The prices were too high so I gave up and went to the Skytower. This is the highest building in the southern hemisphere, and is an impressive sight. The main observation deck has areas of glass floor. This is very disconcerting, as despite the informative and reassuring signs saying the glass is 39mm thick and as tough as the concrete, you can see the ground below and you tread as lightly on the glass for fear of breaking it and falling to your death hundreds of metres below. After eating a British rail dried sandwich which had somehow transported itself to the Skytower to avoid being eaten, and a stroll in the market next to Victoria park, I got back and vegetated with a good book. Life is sweet.

How ya goin there, eh mayte

Back in the real world. I turn up to Auckland and it does exactly what it says on the tin; its a city. I'd picked a nice hostel in Ponsonby, the up-coming cafe district, and I chose well. Not being a snob but I thought best leave the year-outers to their fun and games; they tend to stay at the party palace hostels in the town centre.

The first few days I was still in Island time; getting up late or early, but not really doing anything. I spent a day reading a book, then did a bit of shopping another day. Bought myself a rucksack cover to protect it at airports and its also waterproof, which should help when I go to the south island. Its been a bit boozy and stuff at the Brown Kiwi, but its a good crowd. One night turned a little too messy. It was Phils birthday and we all went down to the Cavalier on Victoria St. Headed off into town and got him very drunk, to the point where he gets thrown out of the club. I felt it best to get him home, which I do, but in the morning he has discovered

that his front teeth have been smashed by something the night before. I have no recollection, and he certainly doesnt. The only theory is that he rolled off the settee in the lounge and smashed his teeth there. $3000 of dental work needs to be done.

I decided to leave the scene of the crime, or rather I was getting bored of waiting for my new bank card to come through. Oh I didnt explain, someone has been taking money out of my account in the Cook Islands, and its been going into the account of the hire company where I picked up the motorbike. I have had to cancel my card, and it seems that LloydsTSB in their wisdom haev no procedure for getting a card to overseas customers. I'd like to get that black horse and turn it into glue. Bunch of imbiciles.

Anyway, as I wait for my card to come through (which still has more money in my account than WorldCom) I thought I would head north to Whangarei (Maori pronunciation - Fangaray). I stayed a couple of days at a hostel, the Bunkdown Lodge, very pleasant, except that after leaving my Merrels on the doorstep they were soon stolen. This has been rectified and they have a shoe rack, but dont leave your shoes outside. Personally the hillbillies who live in Whangarei tend not to wear shoes, even though its about 11-13'C, and they walk around bearfoot, so why they would steal my stinky trainers is a mystery.

I had to wait to Monday to see Trev and Maria as they are only open a few hours on Saturday and closed Sunday. I turn up on the Monday taking a few pictures and I see Trev tidying up the outside of the terrace. Within minutes I had a hot coffee and was helping with the washing up, after eating a very savoury muffin. The food is all veggy and they are using a lot of organic stuff. For those from Brighton, its like the Sanctuary but with all the the bits and pieces from the Mansions. Imagine putting a green veggy cafe in the middle of Texas; this is what they have done, trying to educate people.

I didnt think Wednesday was funny at all, after chilling out with Trev in the morning, they put me on the counter. Now I have never served in a cafe in my life. I have never used a proper coffee machine and I certainly dont know how to make a 'Panini 4' or 'the special'. it was an unmitigated disaster. Maria and Trev would come out of the kitchen and ask me who had ordered the soup or the flat white with soya and I would have to answer that it could be anyone in this room, or they might have left or my writing might be wrong. Funnily enough I went back to pan bashing on the Thursday and we were all a lot happier.

Despite the happiness, Maria and I have felt the presence of ghosts in the cafe, and we dont know why. It could be something to do with the healthy eating or something might be making us paranoid about the building. Even Trev felt it the other night. Most strange. If you are ever in New Zealand then get up to Whangarei and to the "Mezzanine Cafe, 79 Walton Street, Whangarei". Its above a Homeopathic medicine shop and a healthfood shop.

I needed to come back to Auckland for a few days. First to let Maria and Trev sort out the mess I left orders in, and I have to get my visa for Australia, and Im trying to buy a car in Auckland. Soon as I get a car, and the bank can be 'kind' enough to pull its large corporate thumb out of its fat corporate arse and send me a new piece of plastic I'll start travelling around NZ.

How the French ruined the Pacific or - Je veux du pain s'il vous plait

Disappointment is my biggest complaint about Tahiti and French Polynesia. While it is certainly a beautiful place, sort of, it has rained since I arrived. I eventually gave up and went to Moorea, an island just off and visible from Tahiti. It suited me well, as Anna and Kirsty were moving on to the states, and I was getting bored of Papeete.

I went to Moorea, and turned up at Chez Nelsons. It was picturesque but the worst elements of the two cultures, French and Polynesian, surfaced here. The service everywhere was arrogant and rude with delays being the norm. Saying that, the diving was superb and I went for a shark feeding dive.

It was certainly a good exercise in control of your breathing, as the excitement and fear means that you use more air than normal. Having around 20 black-tipped reef sharks ripping fish apart about 30-50cms away from your face and a couple of large lemon sharks looking menacing tends to raise the bloodpressure somewhat. Ok, it was bloody amazing and I would love to do it again, but in my ignorance I suspect but dont know that these things change the sharks behaviour for the worse.

The dorms at Chez Nelson were small, in fact it was 2 to a room, so I dont know how that is a dorm. No matter. Rika was the Japanese girl sharing my dorm. My nickname bcame Beroncho Rowlychan, (beroncho is big bottom lip) and I have learnt how to say I need the toilet in Japanese; that should get me by when Im in Tokyo shouldnt it?

The upside to French Polynesia is the way you can enjoy a continental breakfast, or have fresh, fresh baguettes for breakfast lunch and dinner with good french cheese and wine. Still, the bastards like Nuclear testing, so I was glad to leave Tahiti all in all.

Reflections and insights on the Cook Islands.

• Vaipea girls are the ones to watch out for in Aitutaki.
• There are devils and spirits in the woods, but the locals dont like to talk about it.
• Hinoi, whose 21st party I went to, is a photographer.
• There is a special reason why Vaipea is called Hollywood. You have to go and find out for yourself.
• Aitutaki is a true paradise.
• Puffys do the best burgers on the island.
• Sophie has a camper van without a roof and its in Perth, but its free.
• King Lear is a boring book to swap with at a hostel.
• Rinos bikes are knackered.
• The best snorkelling is at the end of the runway, but the people at the resort tell you its dangerous.
• A can of coke at Pearl Beach resort is over a pound.
• Mosquitos are a real pain and carry Dengue Fever here.
• Tua, who runs Backpackers International sees and hears everything, and she is really nice.
• Ive now met most of the Prime ministers Family.
• Commitment isnt a word used often in Cook Island relationships.
• Germany lost the world cup, thank goodness.
• You can ask the Aitutaki TV station to put a film on for you, or whatever you want to watch.
• You cant watch the world cup final live though.