madness, absolute madness

This mornings cup of coffee just didnt hit the spot. I guess after yesterdays relaxation I needed a bit more of a kick. This was easily resolved by ringing 'Thrillseekers Canyon' who happen to dabble in a bit of bungy jumping. Why not? I had a relaxing day yesterday in the Springs at Hanmer, and the bungy is on the way out of town, and Im going to Christchurch.

I didnt think it would take much in the way of courage. The handing over of $100NZ wasnt too painful, the terrace view of the bridge that crosses the canyon didnt really fill me with too much trepidation, the walk to the aformentioned bridge that I would be later jumping off wasnt filled with dread although I felt a slight connection with members of the French royal family who had walked to the guillotine. I became slightly more nervous when stood on the edge of the platform, feeling the weight of the bungy cord between my feet and peered over the edge, but I still had the smile on my face.

That all changed when the ever such nice chap told me to jump off the bridge. I did, I screamed. I shouted, "Holy fucking cow". Im sorry, thats all I could think of, and it was completely spontaneous. I wanted to shout, "Kamikaze" or quote some poetry, but instead my brain had lost all sensation of the rest of my body and I was facing death. My brain rebelled and squirmed its way to my feet to get away from the fast approaching ground, and my feet had somehow found hands and were holding on to the ankle straps.

Oh yeah the view of the gorge was great, I love rocks and will become a geologist.

I write this the day after Cathy has arrived and she has found a 134m bungy in a town called Cromwell. This stamps all over the 35m jump I did at Hanmer Springs. She wants to film and no doubt study my reaction, as she is curious what my initial words will be as I fall, thinking there is some automatic language response to fear and feels that my reaction might provide some valuable insight. Me, Im crapping myself, and Im afraid the 'F' word will make an important contribution during my 8 seconds of freefall that is available at this 134 metre beast. To put into context, its taller than most buildings in Canary Wharf being equivalent to about 40 storeys. This is just stupid. 8 seconds, thats a book, a biscuit or a blokes phone call. These are all much more productive than jumping again.

One is not amused, or at least the majority of my neurons arent. There is one stupid one at the back going "Yes YES YESSSS, JUMP JUMP JUMP! JUMP!". Im trying not to listen to it, but its got a loud voice. We should get to Cromwell in a week or so. What joy.

the nanny

A gentle day today. I drove to Hanmer Springs, a hot springs town (hence the name McFly) inland from Christchurch and Kaikura, but between the two towns, so an ideal place to stop. Im taking a very sedate route through the South Island, and finding it to be the most stimulating and least stressful way.

I got there after a gentle drive through the hills and arrived just after lunch, finishing off the last of my Morrocan mess stew. I had plenty of time and the weather was sunny, so I wandered to the hot pools. The pools are large, hot and all smell of sulphur, especially the sulphur pools. Funny that. Its warm, bubbly, relaxing and beautiful. The place is landscaped like a random wild swimming pool; a number of rock pools are linked by gushing hot spring water, 3 hexagonal hot pools are arranged outside the changing area, designed for warming up, the sulphur pools are off to one side and a lot hotter than the other pools, and raised, overing a view of the whole area. Steam slowly rises from these, and the water overflows to the next pool and

the pool after that. This is all cheesy but it knows it.

I think this was the first bath I have had in months, and certainly the most luxurious I have had in years.

The town of Hanmer Springs also seems to be the ideal place for business conferences, as the majority of people at the hostel were staying for just that. They all worked for 'The Warehouse', a national bargain hypermarket in NZ, and decided that the best thing to do before the conference was to play drinking games the evening before. Sounds good, especially if Im invited, which I was.

After a couple of hours though, I really had to eat, and if you stop drinking, you dont really start again, especially if they had moved on to spirits. That left me talking to . . .

The Nanny

The Nanny has been the worst person I have encountered so far. The theives I never encountered, immigration staff are just doing their job, pissed kids in hostels are just having fun, alcoholic managers in hostels have issues that are their own problems that only they can solve, but Mrs Nanny was no Mary Poppins. I was so angry after meeting her that I wrote about her in my journal.

"A displeasing face; this was my first impression. This was someone who, while enjoyed travelling, did not learn anything from anyone on her journey."

"I have never enjoyed listening to a story that begins 'I have a great interest in my hobbie blah blah'. This to my ears sounds like, 'I am trying to impress you with my wide range of skills and know you will be suitably impressed' when in fact they really want to say 'I dont think I have a very interesting life, so I will dress it up so you might like me'". Plus why call it a hobby? If you collect stamps you dont say " I have an

interesting hobby of collecting the labels used to notify the postal service that one has paid for carriage."

The melodramtic raise of eyebrows to convey shock or to indicate to the recipient of her monologue that now was an appropriate moment to exhibit a gasp or nod in agreement with The Nanny and her opinion. These eyebrows covered critical eyes, yet they werent perceptive enough to watch the boredom creep across my face, only show a look of disgust as I rebelled and showed an opinion opposite to that which was correct. ie hers.

Conceited, blindly ignorant to her own ignorance, a person who pointed, not just to indicate, but there was venom in her veins as she held the gesture, she made disparaging comments on her travelling companion, she patronised, interrupted, criticised, corrected and gave education where none was wanted. Being the polite sort I bit my tongue but you ever think of employing a nanny, she is ideal if you are looking to crush the spirit of your children and for them to suffer inadequacy complexes throughout the whole of their life. Her arrogance and narrowmindedness was poisonous, and no matter how hard I tried, which was more than she did, I could never see her point of view.

There is more, but I think I got a little carried away. Hanmer springs is a nice town though, and the YHA I stayed at is clean but lacks character, apart from the one I met.