Ali - the mysterious affair at omarau

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Today I say goodbye to Richard an Ester as I begin to wind my way north again, beginning the eventide of my trip, unfortunatly I've been rather spoiled by the scenery from my previous bus journeys and this 11 hour slog from Te Anau to Christchurch is a struggle, the view although stunning is nothing to compare to the magnificance of yesterday and the continueous rolling yellow hills merge soullessly one into an other, my fellow passangers are very normal, not even an unpleasant habit breaks up the monotony of the day.
I suspect this malaise is more to do with my reluctance to accept that my move north is the prequal to going home than any true deficiency in the environment but still as the bus pushes one through accidents and banking sea fog a real feeling of forboding fills me. It's not improved by my eventual arrrive in Christchurch an hour late and with no beds at the hostel, I grumply walk across the city to the second YHA hostel moaning to myself about everything and nothing. 
However when I eventually arrive I realise that I am in fact now a stones throw from dux delux where I had wanted to have dinner but had felt too lazy to walk to. So that's where I went on a Friday night, and within a matter of minutes the loud unintelegable banter woke me from my grumps and a dinner of green lipped mussels, something I'd been looking for, had a large smile on my face I didn't stay late, I've got an early train, but I had learnt a new travelling lesson, two infact. 1 not everyday can be exciting, it's a holiday not a miracle, 2 even the worst days can be turned around without you noticing. 

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