So I thought I'd follow tradition and start this blog off in the usual way...
It brings me great joy to relay what special folks the guests at Copper Beech are! Yay! Everything is pretty much the same as usual: People are still too overworked and abused to consider doing their dishes... problem solvers call my phone at 10:30pm crying that the toilet paper has run out in one of the nine bathrooms... you know, REALLY SERIOUS STUFF. People also love to ring the doorbell at night. The best part is that they know that the back doors are open, but they are just too lazy to walk around the house to the back. However, instead of the doorbell ringing in the hostel, it goes right to the manager's house and it plays an extremely loud and obnoxious song. To make matters worse, these intelligent folk think that if no one responds to the bell in 2.37 seconds that they should ring it again. ...and again. Let's get serious. You can't expect someone to answer a doorbell in less than 5 seconds unless they live in a porta-potty. I've taken to ignoring the doorbell now, and have concluded that they can grow a pair of legs and walk the 20 steps around to the back of the hostel. In any case, I finally decided to put up a sign.
Much to my ever-growing amazement, it didn't help! Guests still think that not having brand new ping pong paddles or that a possible stolen beer from a 32 pack is an emergency that needs to be dealt with at 11:00pm. I guess house fires and heart attacks are over-rated. This hostel is where the real drama is at. I swear, I could make a successful reality show about the every-day occurrences at this place. I would call it, "Mansion for Morons," or maybe "The Hostel for Helpless Hobos."
My personal favorite habit that people have recently taken to is punching holes in the drywall of "The Shed." (The shed is a big hangout place in the back yard with ping pong tables, etc.) Apparently we aren't offering the children enough in terms of fun, so smashing gaping holes into the wall is a great way to entertain one's self.
On to better things!
Recently we had a much needed day off, and we used the opportunity to head into the beautiful little city of Nelson. Our aim was to purchase some new backpacks to replace the ones that had been stolen. (By a thief who probably boasts the same IQ as most of our guests!) We ended up striking gold, and both left the city with shiny new packs. I also was fortunate enough to find the exact same pair of hiking pants that I had bought in Canada. I had been in love with them, often claiming that they were "The best pair of hiking pants I'd ever tried on." Imagine my glee when I found them not only in my size, but ON SALE.
We then took the time to drive around the city a bit, singing along to the iPod and exploring the steep streets that make up the ocean-side city. Overall, it's probably one of my favorite settlements in New Zealand.
Upon returning, we decided that it was time to address the issue of selling our beloved car, Kiwi. As Blenheim is not exactly a prime location for selling cars, I wanted to list it as soon as possible to give us the needed time. The first pair of callers probably took ten years off of our lives due stress-related dealings. I won't go into it, as I've already ranted enough, but let's just say I'm glad that the deal fell through. Another couple came around a few days later, and seemed quite interested. They came back several times to look at the car and test drive it. Finally one night they phoned and said that they had found a car better suited to them. (This after they never showed up on a day that Jordan had taken off work at their request so they could take it to a shop with him) Sheesh.
I took to updating the ads I had posted online, and wrote, "We will drive to you!"
RING RING! A young German man named Niklas phoned me during the day and told me that he was very interested in the car, but that he was in Christchurch, four hours away. After emailing him several photos and proof of repair documents, we arranged to meet on Friday. We were hopeful that he would be satisfied with the car in person, because as much as we loved the drive along the astounding coast to Christchurch, it would be a colossal waste of a day and drive if the sale fell through. We decided to start the day off in honor of my family back home, because whenever we embark on a long drive we usually kick things off with a McMuffin from McDonalds. The drive-thru menu proclaimed a new item however, and it seemed shameful not to try it, as it was something that would probably never be offered in Canada. It was a Brekkie roll, and it boasted an artery-clogging assortment of bacon, cheese, egg, hashbrown, sausage and tomato relish on an English muffin. It probably also had about 6 million calories, but it's one of those things that I'm trying not to feel too guilty about.
We passed through the beautiful little dwelling of Kaikoura, a town that is perched on the edge of the ocean, and backs on to some spectacular mountains. After a quick stretch and break we hopped back into our soon-to-be-sold car to continue on.
We arrived in Christchurch intact, and met up with Niklas around noon, and he seemed to like the car right off the start. His friends eventually joined him, and after looking under the hood, one of them proclaimed, "This is a really good car." I don't know if the guy actually knew what he was talking about or not, but either way I was secretly cheering him on in his admiration of the car. The afternoon ended well when he drove away with Kiwi, and we stuffed wads of cash into our pockets. This called for a celebration that involved sushi.
After stuffing our faces, we decided to check out some of the outdoors stores, only to find that they were located in the centre of town. This is a problem why? Well, let's just say that the centre of town is now more recognizable as a pile of rubble than as a once bustling shopping hub. It's extremely frustrating to drive or walk around the city, because the earthquake has caused such an extraordinary amount of damage. Construction fences line most of the streets, and once grand buildings are being prepped for demolition. We did manage to find one store however, and in that store I found the same toiletry bag that I had purchased for hiking in Canada! (Pictured above with the bag and pants) It, like everything else had been stolen, so I decided that since it was also on sale that I needed to snatch it up. So far I seem to be having good luck with finding replica items to replace the gear I lost!
One area of the city that was quite beautiful was called Centre Mall. There are tons of adorable little shops that are set up inside storage containers. Love the idea!
The bus ride home was long and we arrived back in boring Blenheim around 9:15pm, but I was happy knowing that Kiwi had been sold to a guy who would put her to good use.
The next item on my growing to-do list is to find out where to get vaccinated for my coming travels. I'm not thrilled at the prospect of how much it is going to cost, (as I've heard horror stories from many of the guests here) but it has to be done. I plan on booking my flights this weekend, and I'm eager to do some research that will lead me to explore many adventures on this exotic leg of the journey.
New Zealand Fact of the Day:
Sandals are called "Jandals," and Pickles are called "Gerkins."
It brings me great joy to relay what special folks the guests at Copper Beech are! Yay! Everything is pretty much the same as usual: People are still too overworked and abused to consider doing their dishes... problem solvers call my phone at 10:30pm crying that the toilet paper has run out in one of the nine bathrooms... you know, REALLY SERIOUS STUFF. People also love to ring the doorbell at night. The best part is that they know that the back doors are open, but they are just too lazy to walk around the house to the back. However, instead of the doorbell ringing in the hostel, it goes right to the manager's house and it plays an extremely loud and obnoxious song. To make matters worse, these intelligent folk think that if no one responds to the bell in 2.37 seconds that they should ring it again. ...and again. Let's get serious. You can't expect someone to answer a doorbell in less than 5 seconds unless they live in a porta-potty. I've taken to ignoring the doorbell now, and have concluded that they can grow a pair of legs and walk the 20 steps around to the back of the hostel. In any case, I finally decided to put up a sign.
Much to my ever-growing amazement, it didn't help! Guests still think that not having brand new ping pong paddles or that a possible stolen beer from a 32 pack is an emergency that needs to be dealt with at 11:00pm. I guess house fires and heart attacks are over-rated. This hostel is where the real drama is at. I swear, I could make a successful reality show about the every-day occurrences at this place. I would call it, "Mansion for Morons," or maybe "The Hostel for Helpless Hobos."
My personal favorite habit that people have recently taken to is punching holes in the drywall of "The Shed." (The shed is a big hangout place in the back yard with ping pong tables, etc.) Apparently we aren't offering the children enough in terms of fun, so smashing gaping holes into the wall is a great way to entertain one's self.
On to better things!
Recently we had a much needed day off, and we used the opportunity to head into the beautiful little city of Nelson. Our aim was to purchase some new backpacks to replace the ones that had been stolen. (By a thief who probably boasts the same IQ as most of our guests!) We ended up striking gold, and both left the city with shiny new packs. I also was fortunate enough to find the exact same pair of hiking pants that I had bought in Canada. I had been in love with them, often claiming that they were "The best pair of hiking pants I'd ever tried on." Imagine my glee when I found them not only in my size, but ON SALE.
We then took the time to drive around the city a bit, singing along to the iPod and exploring the steep streets that make up the ocean-side city. Overall, it's probably one of my favorite settlements in New Zealand.
I took to updating the ads I had posted online, and wrote, "We will drive to you!"
RING RING! A young German man named Niklas phoned me during the day and told me that he was very interested in the car, but that he was in Christchurch, four hours away. After emailing him several photos and proof of repair documents, we arranged to meet on Friday. We were hopeful that he would be satisfied with the car in person, because as much as we loved the drive along the astounding coast to Christchurch, it would be a colossal waste of a day and drive if the sale fell through. We decided to start the day off in honor of my family back home, because whenever we embark on a long drive we usually kick things off with a McMuffin from McDonalds. The drive-thru menu proclaimed a new item however, and it seemed shameful not to try it, as it was something that would probably never be offered in Canada. It was a Brekkie roll, and it boasted an artery-clogging assortment of bacon, cheese, egg, hashbrown, sausage and tomato relish on an English muffin. It probably also had about 6 million calories, but it's one of those things that I'm trying not to feel too guilty about.
We passed through the beautiful little dwelling of Kaikoura, a town that is perched on the edge of the ocean, and backs on to some spectacular mountains. After a quick stretch and break we hopped back into our soon-to-be-sold car to continue on.
We arrived in Christchurch intact, and met up with Niklas around noon, and he seemed to like the car right off the start. His friends eventually joined him, and after looking under the hood, one of them proclaimed, "This is a really good car." I don't know if the guy actually knew what he was talking about or not, but either way I was secretly cheering him on in his admiration of the car. The afternoon ended well when he drove away with Kiwi, and we stuffed wads of cash into our pockets. This called for a celebration that involved sushi.
After stuffing our faces, we decided to check out some of the outdoors stores, only to find that they were located in the centre of town. This is a problem why? Well, let's just say that the centre of town is now more recognizable as a pile of rubble than as a once bustling shopping hub. It's extremely frustrating to drive or walk around the city, because the earthquake has caused such an extraordinary amount of damage. Construction fences line most of the streets, and once grand buildings are being prepped for demolition. We did manage to find one store however, and in that store I found the same toiletry bag that I had purchased for hiking in Canada! (Pictured above with the bag and pants) It, like everything else had been stolen, so I decided that since it was also on sale that I needed to snatch it up. So far I seem to be having good luck with finding replica items to replace the gear I lost! One area of the city that was quite beautiful was called Centre Mall. There are tons of adorable little shops that are set up inside storage containers. Love the idea!
The bus ride home was long and we arrived back in boring Blenheim around 9:15pm, but I was happy knowing that Kiwi had been sold to a guy who would put her to good use.
The next item on my growing to-do list is to find out where to get vaccinated for my coming travels. I'm not thrilled at the prospect of how much it is going to cost, (as I've heard horror stories from many of the guests here) but it has to be done. I plan on booking my flights this weekend, and I'm eager to do some research that will lead me to explore many adventures on this exotic leg of the journey.
New Zealand Fact of the Day:
Sandals are called "Jandals," and Pickles are called "Gerkins."
