Bollocks.
I just deleted a huge chunk of eloquent
paragraph detailing my second entry of my time here in New Zealand.
Fucking Internet. Here I roll again. Bastard.
Greetings
once again from the glacier town of Franz Josef. For the fanatic
suscribers of this sporadic and intriguing blog, here is the second log
of my time in this beautiful country. Internet access has been hugely
available and reasonably prices, but such is the pace of the Kiwi bus
that I have not been able to write as often while we hastily hurtle
guiltily down the west coast. For this is a beautiful country. The
comparissons made by many about the similarities in climate and scenery
to England are justified to a certain extend but only skims the surface
of what the country has to offer. From the rolling hills of the River
Valley and Mount Doom (ASO Lord of the Rings) to the serene lakes of
Taupo and Rotorua reflecting the surrounding landscape so steeped in
geological history and volcanic activity, and the magmanamous Franz
Josef glacier which I will be scaling tomorrow (climbing it with pick
axes and ice boots). Though perhaps my favourite has been the
incredible sunsets here, viewed from all of NZD. The contrast in
landscape that it imposes on is breathtaking. On one side you have the
burning orange pastal flaming the horizon being held up by the deathly
silouttes of the trees below, and behind you, the pale lilac skies,
fading into the dark blue sky. The cold sharp air adds to the feeling
of fading day which two nights ago was accompanied by the thinnist
slither of moon, revealing its renewed cresent. Gorgeous just doesn't descibe it.
And
so the Kiwi bus adventures roll though guiltily along the west coast of
the south Island, which in many ways I feel that I am doing it
injustice by rushing it. Still, I have enjoyed it so far. It was
difficult at first to adjust to the hostel lifetyle of living in dorms
with 4-12 people, and generally reliving a the hell of cooking with
electic hobs. And by and large the people are not hugely intriguing as
many are 19 year old gappers on their continuous friday night
activities, followed by the post mortem of how pissed they got last
night. Nonetheless, the people I have met and stuck with are cool, and
I have been getting along with them very well indeed. The dynamic of
the bus is that you tend to miss people as they stay on and you leave,
only to catch up with them days later. Two days ago we met up with some
members of our original bus and last night the bus had a party in one
of the hicksville towns. Theme: Cross Dressing. I will post pictures
with a heavy heart worryingly because I was getting comments of me looking
like a lady boy and being a bit too convincing (its all in the hips, boys). Even I must admit that
I looked like one hot bitch. Think of a very short dress, tattoos, a
goldie looking chain and a Bridget Nilsson hairstyle.
One. Hot. Bitch.
I haven't laughed so hard for a good while, especially when
I was ushered off the by the barmaid off the pool table shouting "Git
off the bloody pool table, thats [82 year old] Len's pride and joy!"
Anyways,
thats me. How are things with you all- be glad to hear tales of the
gorgeous British Summer that I pine for as I cuddle my hot water bottle
on my moist rented duvet.
Mike x
