Going to Invercargill in my Mind

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Kia Ora!

I am writing from my Uncle Sabin and Aunt Claire's house in Invercargill, New Zealand, a.k.a. "The Big I." Its a quiet farm town on the very bottom of the South Island, and it is also the birthplace of my father. I am actually sitting in the very house my dad grew up in, so the memories have been pouring out after his 20 year exile from the Town He Loved So Well. (great song by Phil Coulter - look it up)

Today we journeyed every southwards to Bluff, a rundown shanty town named Bluff that is literally at the ends of the earth. It also happens to be the butt of many jokes. My dad complained all the way down there cause its basically a glorified shithole, but it was an interesting sojourn. We got to this place called Silver Point, which is quite literally the End of the Earth. It is the southernmost point in New Zealand, and, as follows, one of the lowest points in the world. It was ugly too. And, as expected, at the lowest point in the world, the lowest levels of humanity arise. Right at the oddly interesting sign post that points to London, Sydney, New York, the Equator, Tokyo, and a wonderful land called "Dogtown" was a bar known lovingly as the Drunken Sailor. We didn't grace the place with our presence.

But it was interesting enough just getting there. As many of you surely recall, here in Aoteoroa they drive on the left-hand side of the road, which is freaking the life out of my dear old dad, and by extension, the family. He was never much of a driver in NZ, not getting his license till he got the States in his twenties (remind you of anyone?) and he is not comfortable at all on the left side of the road. The funny part for us? The indicator is also on the other side, so every single time my father tries to signal a turn, he turns on the windshield wipers. We sympathize on the outside, but I laugh everytime on the inside.

Its been a solid trip for the big guy so far though, hes had a couple parties thrown for him, and hes been able to catch up with a ton of his old mates while watching some rugby and cricket. My mother fears that he may not be returning with us, but I think he'll come back.

Tomorrow we're off to Queenstown, New Zealand. Its effectively the tourist capital of the country, and its where bungee-jumping was invented. No, I will not be jumping. I wouldn't even climb the rock wall in gym, much to the chagrin of the ever-loved Mr. Lavender. However, it seems like Ryan and cousin Maggie (or as one of my dad's old friends called her, Mumbai) might just take the leap of faith. Best of luck to Ryan and Mumbai.

I will however, try some shot-over jetting. Its something to do with ridiculously fast motor boats doing ridiculous turns in ridiculously small places on a ridiculously dangerous river with ridiculous rocks everywhere. Sounds like my kind of sport. I will have to remember to eat lightly, and bring a large bucket.
I may also try luging! I've always thought I'd look dashing in spandex.

So that is the State of the Trip so far. Everything is quite lovely here in the Big I. I've gotten to see my grandmother Mary Butterfield for the first time in ten years, and shes been great. She loves to feed me... my kind of woman. I've also met another new cousin, and lots and lots of my dads old friends. Its been pretty swell. The only nagging worry of mine is Advanced Placement Calculus AB, which I have not touched, and surely awaits me upon my return. Mr. Giardi, I beg your forgiveness, now and at the hour of my death (which might just be Monday, February 23rd, E Block.)

Best of Luck,
Your Obedient Humble Servant,
C. Michael Butterfield

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