flying solo

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Ok so that hike, holy guac, hardest physical exertion I've ever done in my life. I had no clue what I was getting myself into, and met 4 other girls for this "walk," but in seeing the base alone 2 dropped out. So it turned out me and 2 other Americans were the most up for the task, and I've realized that as notoriously unhealthy of a country the US is, its us American chicks that have been going on jogs and participating in more athletic activity than anyone else. Anyway, of the three of us I was definitely the weakest link and biggest whiner, considering that one is a soccer player for Dartmouth and the other is just freakishly fit. And I was freakishly hung over (I mean come on, Queenstown is the party capital). And ran out of water less than half way through.

The trail ascended 3,000ft, with the scenery and views growing increasingly more amazing and surreal. There were several instances of near collapse and many temptations to turn back, but everyone we passed ensured us it was well worth it. And they were right. Not only could we look down on all of Queenstown, but as we climbed entire mountain ranges and hidden lakes popped into view. You know you're up there when you're looking DOWN on helicopters. Thankfully our hostel had a much appreciated hot tub.

Queenstown is also very mountainous and on a lake, and is supposed to be an amazing place for the snow season. I'm so aching to stay for ski season, but that starts pretty much the same time I start my...wait what's the word...oh uh job.

Next stop Dunedin, got there in time for a big Rugby match, which I've started to learn more about, stopping at a pre-game brewery to gear up w/ facepaint and of course, brew. The game was enjoyable, but didn't even hold a candle to a Trojans game. But what does really? Actually, the motorcross pre-game show was the best part, which was just two guys having more or less a motorcross duel, and the clear winner being a back-flipping 16yr old. It's funny how much weather affects your perception of places, because my first day there it was sunny and beautiful and I was so in love with Dunedin, and then my second day there was rainy and gray, and I was like meh, not so much. It did give me a chance to see the Other Boleyn Girl, which is a true story and very fascinating, I highly recommend it to all. However the only thing I could think the whole movie was "wow, men are douche bags."

A couple days later I got the chance to experience Milford Sound, which is an infamously beautiful spot down south, part of a national reserve the size of New Jersey. I'd heard both that "going to New Zealand and not seeing Milford Sound is like going to Egypt and not seeing the pyramids," and also "totally overrated." We took a boat cruise through the sound (which is actually a misnomer, it's a fiord, if you care to know the difference I can certainly explain as I heard it repeated about 10x that day) which kicked off with a buffet meal. Hmmmm, stuffing your face or serenly observing the scenery? Of course with any type of buffet situation one somehow trips into survival mode, acting as if they've not eaten nor will be eating for several days. I am of course exempt from that phenomenon...right.

So the sound/fiord was lovely, not quite 'knock your socks off' style but cool enough. But wait. The best is yet to come. So we had been given the option to either take the smelly bus back to Queenstown for 5 hrs, or for a not so small fee, fly back in a 10-seater jet. So my afore-mentioned American friend and I decided the flight would be worth it, and oh. my. god. I won't even begin to explain this experience because it was just too jaw droppingly amazing. It completely reinstated my joy for life and my appreciation for this country; I'm convinced there's nowhere else that could even come close.

From Queenstown on to Christchurch, which was a life-extracting 8hr bus ride. But my last one with the Kiwi Bus! My friend booked us in our own hostel, which was not the one they book for you, as we've gotten sick of doing the big group bus deal. For those of you who are unfamiliar with hostels, they are typically known as "youth hostels," but you tend to get your token creepy old person/couple. Now no offense to my elders reading this, but the expectation is that by a certain point in your life, if you're going to go traveling, you should please check yourselves into a hotel, or at least a campground. So somehow we may have stumbled upon a hostel having a token creepy old person convention, because they were clearly the majority.

Christchurch was dandy, not spectacular, but pleasant enough, and after 2 nights (the second at a different hostel, had to get out of there asap), I was able to do whatever and go where ever I wanted. Exciting, but I was feeling a little less than confident about newly being a completely solo traveler. However I soon realized my concerns were unfounded. I decided to check out the small seaside French settlement of Akaroa, and on my way there met another American girl who had just traveled South America and Southeast Asia on her own, and completely inspired me. It has the charm of a European town, but with the unbeatable NZ landscape and wildlife, and is now my favorite place thus far. My first night I couldn't get a spot at one of the really nice hostels, and had to settle at a decent place nearby, which was very small and I ended up sharing a small room with one other guy, which was actually a bit creepy. The place was cute, but I didn't want to hang out all night alone so I pushed myself to go out to dinner on my own -- a first for me. I found this very homey and inviting Mediterranean place and sat myself at a table, fully prepared to sit there with my book, but immediately I began chatting with the Kiwi couple sitting next to me, who were down on a weekend holiday from the North Island. They shared with me many amazing travel stories, and learned that they met while he was traveling in Austria, where she's from, and her first words to him were "can I marry you?" I'll have to try that one sometime.

Anyway they, having been there the previous night, knew girl standing at the bar named Erin who seemed to be in her 20's and is a Canadian ex-pat. They introduced me and we got to talking away, and she told me her story of how she was biking on her own through New Zealand, got tired, stopped here to get a job, fell in love, and has now been here for 4 years. (And btw, biking alone through NZ makes me feel like my travels are extremely tame). She was advising me on activities to do the next day, and by the end of the evening set me up to meet with her boyfriend the next day to get a spot on a yacht he was crewing the next day for a regatta. Amazing!

So first the next day I had to go check out this place called Tree Crop Farm, which is basically a very eccentric woman's home, very rustic and dark, with all kinds of antiques strewn about. She also has a full garden and verandas with sheepskins draped over every seat and hundreds of sayings written in chalk on the walls and ceiling. She made me a cappuccino with a couple chocolate goodies and threw a wool blanket over me. Two other girls arrived, a Canadian and an American (I swear there's a sudden influx of Americans b/c I was meeting none before) and the woman was running back and forth from the garden to the kitchen, compiling the ingredients for their berry smoothies. The walk to this place alone was worthwhile, passing many cottages, streams and farm animals along the way. Not to mention how fresh the air is here. I almost took my ipod, but I realized how ridiculous that would have been, as I already had a soundtrack of the hundreds of singing birds.

In the afternoon I visited my new friend Erin at the cafe where she was working, and she directed me to the club to meet up with the guys. Once there, I met my whole crew, one having a very similar story to Erin in that she too was a backpacking American who fell in love and stayed. The boat trip was great, however the winds were pretty calm and it wasn't the most fast-paced of races, I learned a little something, had a good time, and served as an essential member of the crew, throwing my body from one side of the boat to the other on command (while ducking clear of the boom). Afterwards all the boaters congregated for drinks at the dock, which ironically I had observed the previous day during my explorations and wondered "who are those people down there drinking and laughing? How do I get to be a part of that?" I got a chance to meet many true blue Kiwis, and even some that had been born and raised in Akaroa, which is not something that would have happened during my time with the Kiwi Bus tour.

Back at my hostel, at the nice one now, it was quite the cozy scene, with people curled up reading and several in the kitchen baking bread and scones. It was a cottage fully equipped with a fireplace, outdoor pond and hammock, oozing charm. Getting to meet many of the guests, it seemed that almost all of them were travelers who had decided to stop in this town to work for a couple weeks, taking residence at this hostel. Hmmmm, its a possibility...

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