another country, another entry stamp

There is one born every minute. I had a look at getting the Warrant of Fitness (WOF) extended on the car, but it failed and needed a minimum of NZ$300 work done, mainly welding. Niels the star who works at the Brown Kiwi, told me to just try and sell the car. After cleaning it up, and painting over the rust patches with a touchup brush, I took it down the car fair by Quay St. I sold it within half an hour. I hope part of the reason it sold well, was my salesman skills. I found out the blokes buying it were from Bangalore, and we talked about the bars there, and about Kolar Gold field just outside of town. They were so relaxed, they didnt even notice the WOF was about to expire, and I got NZ$1600 for the car. A loss of NZ$400 but then thats not bad for 3 months motoring and not having to do NZ$300 of work.

After that, I seemed to just be passing the time until my flight to Sydney. Some people I had met before turned up. Bob had been off on school holiday but couldnt get back in to 217, and arrived with Frank, plus Lisa and Ryan showed up. I went to one of Ryans gigs in Devonport along with Lisa. A latino gig, with the spring afternoon sunshine streaming through the windows, and girls dancing to the latin rhythyms. We got a lift back by another band member, a scottish nutter who drove like he knew the roads, but to a different city and on the other side of the road.

The rest of the week was spent reading, until I decided to try and see Trev and Maria before I left the country. Lisa was a bit bored what with Ryan gigging all the time, so she fancied coming with me. i had booked a coach, but Lisa wanted to hire a car. After ringing round a number of places, and me ending up missing my coach booking, Peter told us t just go and hitch.

Us? Hitch? Its 180km to Whangarei, and it was 2 o'clock. I had no idea if we could make Whangarei and by 630 we were in Orewa and going nowhere fast. We had got a ride north of the arbour bridge in Auckland by a builder, then a ride for 4 exits from a banker, then some stoned girls drove us to Orewa. After that, nobody looked at us. We stayed the night at Pillows, a place I had been to
before, and ate fish and chips on the beach. There the strange spectacular of a sunset with people practising martial arts on the beach.

Orewa is a sleepy coastal town, so that affected us and we went to bed.

I spent the morning writing a nice sign for Whangarei on some card, Lisa drew some flowers on it and we sat by the side of the road. No sooner had we sat down than a car screeches to a halt and we pile in. The driver hadnt even seen our beautiful sign, and we should have taken the hint. Eamon drove hard and fast and all us passengers found virtual brakes had appeared at our feet.

Once we arrived I found out that Trev and Maria had closed the cafe. For good. Still, the next few days were spent seeing all the friends I had met through Trev and Maria. Chris turned up with some friends. Danny showed up, and recognised Lisa from the meditiation centre. Lawson was still in town and seeing him again is like being hit with a 100 metre wave of friendly Glaswegain. We also paid a visit to the land Maria and Trev are buying as Warwick rang in the morning.

Seeing the land showed what Maria and Trev want to do. The tipi site was being excavated ready for the following week when the tipi gets delivered. It was also chance to say goodbye to Warwick and Jenny.

After a fairly messy night involving music, good food and wine, and some of my bad drumming, and a few hours sleep, Lisa and I were on the coach to Auckland.

It feels like I have condensed the past 2 days too much. It was exciting but fun, but random, but cool, but fattening, but drunk, but friendly, but tipi. . . .

Im going to miss New Zealand, the Warriors, the Maori town names, green culture, rural communities, amazing vistas, huge national parks, clean tasting beer, dangerous roads, glaciers, rivers, huge forests, cleansing rain, amazing animals, creative resourceful people, fascinating culture, but the Marmite is SHOCKING.

a load of bull

I've got progressively more prejudiced and opinionated over the last few weeks and have come up with some solutions to world problems; if Australia becomes a republic, as I feel they ought to and more importantly want to, then they can take the Union flag out of their flag. It would just have 6 stars and I think that'll look silly, plus cost a fortune in changing all the touristic tat, teatowels, hat etc that have the flag on.

Britain is to blame for most of the disputes and wars in the world at the moment. Considering that Cyprus, Israel, Afghanistan, Fiji, India (including Pakistan), Burma, Australia, Canada and Zimbabwe all used to be British Territories or dependants, only Canada is in a decent state. I think we might be to blame.

So I have left the north and Whangarei behind for a while. I stayed at Orewa, a dull seaside town, north of Auckland, Hamilton, a slightly less dull town south of Auckland, New Plymouth, a dull town with a big snowy dormant volcano in the back garden, and Im now in Wellington. having stopped at Wanganui and Bulls.

Hamilton was dull, but I was able to do a bit of shopping, and got a sleeping bag. Foolishly or perhaps not so foolishly I left my sleeping bag at home, thinking rightly that I wasnt going to need it in the pacific islands, but I have wished I had brought it once I reached New Zealand.

New Plymouth was pretty much the same, but I got the car serviced, as a light had lit up on the dashboard, and I didnt know what it meant. It seemed sensible to get the oil changed as well, before doing a long bit of driving in the south island. The hostel in New Plymouth was lovely. Called Shoestrings Backpackers, on the edge of town, it had a large warm fire, nice kitchen, and its run by very friendly people. It even had a sauna which was ideal after a cold day out on Mount Taranaki. This is the dormant volcano at the back of town.

While I got the car serviced, and a pair of trousers repaired, I decided to go up the mountain, or at least as far as I could get. Its peak is at 2600m, but considering its winter, and you need an ice axe and crampons to reach it during this time of year, I was content with ascending as far as I could. I got dropped off at the DOC centre and got a map and the latest weather report; it wasnt good so I took a route that would get me halfway up the hill. I was glad I did, as by 1000m up I was having to kick into the icy snow to keep my grip on the steep slopes. At 1500m I stopped for lunch inside the Tarahangi mountain hut, and the weather closed in. Where I had been able to at least look down the mountain, I couldnt see 100m in front of me. Not terrible but not nice if you are on your own, adn I was glad to have the map. I did think about trying to reach the summit, but I saw 6 guys, with mountains of equipment, crampons, axes, ropes, and what looked like really warm jackets, moving very slowly up the mountain. If they were taking their time and new what they were doing, I didnt think there was much point in me having a go. I made a partial circumference around the mountain, above the snowline, sometimes crawling out of snow where I had sunk up to my chest, and wished i had got here in the summer. This is one of the few proper mountains in the world, where you can reach the summit and back in 8 hours, depending on conditions. Today they just weren't good conditions.

I left New Plymouth, glad of the exercise but wanting to get to the south island. I could'nt decide whether to stop on the way to Wellington, or to see if I could reach it that day. I stopped in a place called Cardiff, and seeing as I was born in Cardiff, Wales I wanted to see what similarities there were. I dont know who its fortunate for, but there were none.

Wanganui didnt interest me much, but the town of Bulls did. The place has a particular sense of humour and have enjoyed coming up with new names for the shops, ie. the Church is "Forgive-a-bull" and the supermarket is "Comest-a-bull". Hilarity.

Palmerstone North didnt sound very enticing, so I had a look at Levin, dull, otaki, dull, so before I knew it, I was on the outskirts of Wellington.

There didnt seem to be much room in the hostels around town, and I got one to ring up "Beethovens" for me. They had beds so I wandered over. Beethovens is or at least used to be very famous. Allan, the owner, is a world famous musician, but he is renowned by all backpackers for being exceedingly anti-smoking and generally quite a rude person. This is all hearsay of course. His assistant on the other hand is the epitomy of insanity, but then thats what comes from being an alcoholic. He leaves the hostel in a mess, the dogs unfed, the breakfast burnt, he gets so drunk he threw 2 girls out of the hostel at 4am, then asked people in the morning "did the two girls leave in the night?", and the place is basically falling apart. Despite being in TV documentaries a few years ago, this place should be bulldozed. There are rude and eccentric handwritten notices around the whole building, piped classical music is switched on at 0700 and gets turned off sometimes at night, a jar labelled "sperm donation" is positioned in the hall, which does contain a few used condoms, there are many busts of Beethoven around the place, some have a jaunty-angled tinsel halo, the wiring in the place is very Heath Robinson, and finally the place is cold and some rooms stink. Stay there if you fancy an experience.

It was handy for one aspect; being able to go into Wellington, and have a little bit of a drink. Thursday 22nd I went to an Irish pub (no fiddle nailed to the wall), then a bar with live jazz. There I met some hairdressers dancing around handbags. They insisted on me joining them. We went to another bar and met some US guy who had been working on the modelmaking and prosthetics in Lord of the Rings, and some Kiwi guy who invited us back to his house. a group of 5 and only 2 people know names, and only for each other. It got weird, excessive quantities of alcohol were consumed, and at 5am, I make my excuses and left, to be awoken 2 hours later by Mr Beeth Oven. At least he was deaf and didnt have to put up with his music all day and all night.

I got out of Wellington and decided to stay in Stillwaters hostel, in Mana, about 20km north of Wellington. Its a simple drive into town, and the place has free internet, a lovely kitchen, a bathroom, wait for it, WITH A BATH. Not just an ordinary bath, but its a jacuzzi. The large TV room with leather settees can be entered from the dining room cum snooker room, or the enclosed terrace, or the balcony. You can hire kayaks, and its about 50m from the waters edge. This is more like it.

The ferry to the south island is booked and I go Monday night/Tuesday morning, arriving in Picton at about 5am.