In Transit

It’s hard to believe that the time has finally come!  We’ve moved on from our jobs as hostel cattle herders in the little town of Blenheim! 

We spent our last day in Blenheim by indulging in a delightful little wine tour.  We decided that instead of driving around, we’d grab a couple of bicycles from the hostel and peddle ourselves around the sunny countryside. 

Our first stop was a winery known as Brancott Estate.  It was the first winery to make its presence known in the Marlborough region, and it boasts the largest spread of vineyards.  We watched an interesting little movie, and then partook in a complimentary wine tasting.  The young girl pouring for us seemed to know quite a bit, and I felt like I actually gained a bit of knowledge through her.  She kept saying, “Oh just one more wine I need you to try… and then I just need you to try this one!”  (As if she was APOLOGIZING for offering us more free wine.  Sheesh.)  I ended up falling in love with their special dessert wine, and because Brancott is such a large winery, the prices were actually quite reasonable.  Put two and two together, and I ended up buying the wine that we later referred to as “liquid honey.” 

Armed with my new-found love, we trekked back down the steep hill to where we had parked our bikes.  Unfortunately, the wind had really picked up, and the cycling was tough going.  I almost worked up a sweat at one point.  About halfway to our next destination, we came across the most adorable little (Shetland?) pony.  I instantly shrieked with girlish delight, as females often do when presented with anything pint-sized and adorable.  Pulling over to the side of the road, I skipped over to the boards, hoping that he’d welcome my attention.  My wishes were granted when his ears immediately perked up and he ambled over.  It turned out that he really didn’t care one way or another for my cooing over his “fuzzy little mane” or his “velvety little muzzle,” but rather was more interested in the handfuls of grass that I was pulling up from the ground.  If you were to ask Woolly (as I named him) if the tired saying about the grass being greener on the other side is true, he’d say that he heartily agreed with that old cliché.  When he wasn’t trying to gnaw on my hair or tug at my sleeves, he was stomping his laughable little hoof into the dirt in an attempt to show us that he wanted more tasty grass.  He even went so far as to rap his hoof on the confines of his corral.  Ultimately his methods were successful though, because we thought it was “just so adorable” that we felt compelled to stay even longer and fill his tummy with more of the “greener on the other side” stuff.

I finally managed to pull myself away from darling Woolly, as we had to continue on our quest for the knowledge of wine.  The wind had seemed to die down a bit, and we peddled our way to a small family owned winery, where we spent the next 45 minutes politely trying to edge our way out the door after listening to the drawn-out and never-ending life story of the man behind the counter.   The next two wineries were pleasant enough, and feeling like connoisseurs, we decided to hit up one more winery.  When we arrived however, we discovered that they had closed early!  Cheapskates.  In any case, Jordan had to be back at the hostel for a Skype date, and we decided to start the long peddle home.  Admittedly, this was one of my favorite parts of the day’s adventure, and not because I was armed with a bottle of muchly anticipated dessert wine.  Let’s just say that my glee came at the expense of my companion.  We were cycling down a long, straight road, and at one point I looked behind me, expecting Jordan to be right on my tail.  Instead, he was little more than a black outline in the distance.  I decided to wait for him, and once he caught up, I asked him if everything was ok.  Instead of answering my question, he kept riding by and snidely said, “There must be something wrong with my bike because I can’t keep up to you.” 

So that’s how it is. 

Jokingly offended by his dismissed notion that I might actually be in decent shape, I decided to show him who was boss and zoomed ahead once again, reducing him to the same distant black outline in the dust.  A few minutes later, I decided to once again wait for him to catch up.  By this point I could see how hard he was peddling, only to fall behind again in mere moments.  At this point I agreed that there must be something wrong with his bike, (perhaps a dragging brake pad) but I couldn't quite contain my laughter as I watched the sheen of sweat spread down his face and neck.  He must have taken offence to my chuckling, as he tried to ride up quick behind me and smack me.  Karma intervened, and he lost his balance, careening over the shoulder of the country road and eventually falling off his bike to end up in a graceless sprawl in the ditch alongside.  If I’d been trying to contain my laughter before, I had no inclination to do so now.  The image of him as a tangle of lanky limbs, covered in grass and dirt is one I will not soon forget.  Alas, I wasn't able to enjoy the moment for long, as a car was approaching down the road, and his poor bike was still where it had been abandoned – on its side at the edge of the road.

After picking himself up and complaining about the grass stain on his pants, Jordan proclaimed with a smug smile, “Well at least I think I managed to crush all of the crackers you had in the backpack.  In fact I KNOW I did, because I heard the crunch.”  With a shake of my head and a grin of revenge from him, we again started on our quest for home.  The remainder of the ride was uneventful, and that evening after sharing a bottle of wine with the new managers, we were both excited to fall into bed.

The next day we rose early for one last 5:00am gym visit, and then caught the morning bus to Christchurch.  We arrived at “The Jailhouse” around 4:00pm, eager for a siesta, as neither of us had slept much the night before.  After a couple of short hours of relaxation, we set out in search of a worthy “Goodbye New Zealand” dinner.  We settled on a massive feast of Chinese food, which doesn’t really hold any tribute to Kiwi-land, but it’s difficult to find fault in a pile of steaming, delicious noodles.  So there we sat, shovelling in our food and sipping our wine – the perfect balance of disgusting and dainty – while contemplating and remembering all of our New Zealand adventures.

With morning came contented stretches and yawns, and considering we had literally spent the night in a jail cell, we both felt quite well-rested.  Breakfast consisted of left-over Chinese food, and I decided that while we were at it, we’d better finish off the wine I had brought with me from the winery.  Around noon we set out to visit some of the various outdoors stores, walking for hours all over the city to do so.  Eventually we ended up back at the centre of the ruined city, and partook in a hot drink from one of the container coffee shops.  To finish off our walk, we strolled through the vast botanical gardens that are lovingly tended near the centre of Christchurch.  We had planned to take in a movie later that night, and upon arriving back at the hostel to grab our stored luggage, we realized that we had very little time in which to catch the city bus that would take us across town to the theatre.  Hurriedly, we threw on our backpacks, and juggling our precious belongings, we set off in the direction of the nearest bus stop.  It was around this time that I experienced a moment that my mother can readily relate to.  The bus stop was in sight, and in my haste, I didn’t quite step far enough to place my foot solidly on the curb.  Time seemed to tick slower in that moment as the ground suddenly moved nearer and nearer to me.  So there I lay, quite literally stretched out in a clumsy heap on the pavement, cursing my luck.  I hastily scrambled to my feet, looking around to see if anyone had witnessed the spectacle.  I was even more distraught to see that my treasured (and expensive) daypack now had battle wounds in the form of rips and scratches down the front.  Jordan was more considerate than I would have been in the circumstances, and didn’t even crack a smile.  For that I was extremely grateful, because at that moment I vow that if I were to face a lion in battle, the cat wouldn’t stand a chance.  So Mom, you’ve got the sidewalk in London and the wave in Portugal, but I might catch up to you soon.

The bus rolled up several moments later, and soon we were making our way to the theatre.  We caught the movie with minutes to spare, and enjoyed every moment of the film.  (For anyone who is interested, “Looper” is an excellent movie… and no Mom you wouldn’t enjoy it.  It’s violent.)  The movie ended around 10:30pm, and after grabbing a small snack, we caught a cab to the airport, where we would spend the next 7 hours waiting for our flight out of NZ.

It deserves a mention that our cab driver was crazy, and had he not been on the job, I would have sworn that he had downed a rather large bottle of spirits before picking us up.  He was animated and friendly, but half of what he said made no sense, and his constant jokes ending with, “I made that one up!” started to induce awkward smiles and looks between me and Jordan.  He finally asked if we liked Austrian rock music, which in my opinion isn’t typically a question you can say “Oh yes I love the stuff!” to.  I’m open-minded, but how many people outside of the native country regularly listen to obscure Austrian music?  In any case, we responded that we’d be interested to hear it.  He then proceeded to blare the music so loudly that I was sure we’d get pulled over for disturbing the peace.  The sight of the Christchurch airport was a welcome sight, and just as we thought we’d make a clean break for it, our driver started saying how he was going to sing us the Canadian anthem, and started spurting off some lyrics that had to do with visiting Alberta in the fall.  Spending the night in the airport was starting to look good.    ….real good.

The time from 11:00pm and beyond passed more quickly than I’d have thought, and we finally found ourselves boarding our flight around 5:45am.  In my opinion, the plane was rather lacking in the amenities that you find in normal aircraft, but I attributed it to the short nature of the flight over to Australia.  We landed in Melbourne about 4 hours later, and proceeded to the security section of the international departures.  As per usual, I was “randomly selected” for a bag check, item swabbing and full pat down. 

The airport was gorgeous, and after gawking at the outrageous prices for food, we bit the bullet and bought a couple of breakfast sandwiches.  Our flight was delayed by an hour, and while we could easily see the plane right outside of the terminal window, we couldn’t understand the wait.  A Jetstar worker finally announced over the PA system that there was a “slight problem” that was being fixed.  Turns out it was just a faulty smoke detection glitch, which was soon repaired.  Phew. 

This plane proved to be much nicer than the first, and I bounced with excitement when I saw that the seats were two-by-two as opposed to three-by-three.  My excitement has since then been somewhat dampened by the realization that anything one would want in terms of “amenities” on this flight cost extra.  Even the TVs in each seat are only operable by purchase.  Jordan and I had only purchased a small amount of snacks for this flight, as they were extremely expensive in the airport.  We deduced that because this flight is 8 hours long, we’d at least be treated to a meal or snack.  Wrong.  When I said that you pay for extras on this flight – I meant everything.  You don’t even get complimentary beverages.  Pair that with the fact that the tiny flight meals start at $15 AUS and you’ve got a couple of travellers who feel a tad ripped off.

In any case, we’re about 3 hours into the flight, and I’m hoping to hold off hunger pains until we land.  Or maybe I will focus on my grumbling stomach after all.  It will help to distract me from the toddler across the aisle that has been incessantly screaming for most of the flight.

 I’m intrigued to see if the Singapore airport is as fantastic as I’ve read, and it will be exciting to catch our first real glimpse of Asian culture.

Sooooo Singapore.  Now that experience was… interesting.  We landed around 5:00pm local time, and after collecting our baggage, we had no idea how to proceed.  Were we to go through customs?  Or were we supposed to stay in the terminals because we were merely transferring flights?  We ended up asking an airport employee, and it proved to be the worst thing we could have done.

The Singapore airport is set up to be extremely comfortable for those who are in transit.  They offer free massages, a pool, several fitness centres, a couple of free theatres, countless themed indoor and outdoor gardens, free sleeping areas, and hundreds of shops.  Unbeknownst to us, the catch is that you have to stay inside the transit lounges when you land, going through customs and into the main terminals only when your next check-in is required.   Upon landing we were a little confused in the large setting, and we asked the fore-mentioned employee for some guidance.  He must have not completely understood what were we trying to ask him, and we were then told to exit the transit lounge immediately through customs.

On the other side of customs, we found ourselves in the main check-in terminals, which had nothing more than hard marble floors and scattered rows of hard wooden seats.  Not very lay-over friendly – especially for 15 hours.  We asked the information desk, and she replied that the amenities that had been advertised were not available to people who were not checked in, and were only to be used by people experiencing a layover.  She seemed in a rush to hurry us along, and didn’t really listen when we explained that we were indeed in transit and on a layover, and had been ushered out by mistake.

After hours of walking around trying to find someone who would help us, I stumbled across a brochure that hadn’t been available inside of the transit/layover areas in which we had arrived.  It mentioned that anyone with a layover was encouraged to stay within the transit lounges upon arriving, and that they should depart the lounges for their check-in two hours before their continuing flight.  At this point we had been walking around for hours, and were running around on almost 48 hours without sleep.  We went up to the officer who was manning the departures gate, and explained the situation to her.  Again she tried to direct me somewhere else, and seemed disinterested in our problem.  I could feel the tears welling up, and finally when she saw how distressed we were, she offered to go find someone who could perhaps help us.  She brought over another lady, who listened to our story, but ultimately in the end told us that we could not get back on the other side until 4:00am the next morning.  At this point it was only around 7:00pm, and the prospect of spending the whole night on those wooden seats was daunting.  She said that she recognized that it was the fault of the employee for putting us out in the main terminal, but there was nothing she could do.  In reality, she could have easily just shuffled us through the gates but was in actuality unwilling to do so.  When she asked if we were on a holiday and we replied that we were, she laughed and said, “Oh well.  This will be an adventure.”    

Needless to say, it was an extremely long and uncomfortable night. 

We finally boarded the plane, and with bloodshot eyes, I scanned the aisle for our seats.  A toddler was throwing a temper tantrum a few seats ahead, and imagine my shock (heavy sarcasm) when I realized that he was sitting right in front of my seat.   After 20 minutes of screaming and squirming, you would think that his parents would try another approach that doesn’t involve cooing, “It’s ok baby.  It’s alright darling boy.  Careful when you are bouncing sweetheart.  You might bonk your head.”  By this point, other passengers were starting to shoot glares in the direction of the parents, as they refused to spare everyone some sanity by taking their child to the lavatory where his screams would be drowned out.

You can partake in his screaming glory below.  Make sure you watch it all the way through, because it gets better with time.

This disturbance continued on throughout a good portion of the flight, with the tantrum-free moments consisting of the kid obnoxiously banging on tin peanut cans or reaching behind the seat to slam my window shut while I was looking out of it.    

The flight landed ahead of schedule in Bangkok, (THANK GOODNESS) and I couldn’t get off that plane fast enough.  We caught a skytrain to the downtown core, and from there took a taxi to the area of several hostels.  We ended up finding a small family owned, bare-bones hostel, which cost us a grand total of $4 each for a private room!  Pretty awesome considering it was costing us around $40 each for a double back in NZ.  It’s a bit run-down and stark, but everything is clean, and it’s a good distance from the markets.  There is no hot water, and the beds do not come with sheets or blankets, but trust me when I say that the shower I had was one of the best ever.  The heat and humidity are unbelievable, and after coming into a hostel with no air condition, you appreciate that cold water more than ever! 

So here we sit, about to catch up on some much needed sleep and relaxation.  Our plan is to hit the markets tonight, and partake in some of the street food.  We may or may not catch a train down to the southern part of Thailand tomorrow.  Bangkok doesn’t seem like it will do much for us beyond the exploration of a few markets.  It really is just a huge bustling city. 

Thailand Fact of the Day:  Feet are considered to be extremely dirty and unclean, as they are the lowest point of the body.  To show the soles of your feet in public (ex: propping them up on a chair) is considered extremely rude.

Within Our Reach...

 "The spring has sprung, the grass is riz, I wonder where the warmness is!" 


Spring is officially here, and has been since September 1st.  I can't help but try and urge Mother Nature to provide some warmth along with the season!  We've had a bit of a cold snap lately, but today it seems to be trying to move along.  I'm a front row supporter in the advocacy of "the brrrr factor" leaving town.  This season has appeared with many "Spring-like" accompaniments: birds whistling early in the morning, the grass growing as if it were on sod steroids, and the constant need for sunglasses!  I also feel much more inclined to leap out of bed earlier these days!

Things have been looking up in the last little while, and to add to it, Jordan has what is basically a new full-time job - one that doesn't involve vines, wines, or mud.  Olly ( who is the son of the owner) has employed Jordan indefinitely to do odd jobs for him around this hostel, as well as for their other hostel.  He has also been working at Olly and Sarah's house, assisting with renovations, painting and yard work.  We assumed that Jordan's helping out would be a temporary position, but it seems that there is actually endless chores to be done, especially now that the weather is cooperating.  It seems as if he will be employed as a handyman until we leave. The best part of it all is that Jordan loves the work, and his efforts are rewarded by crafts-man quality results.  Furthermore, it has meant no more vineyard-induced visits to the chiropractor.  Another perk is that the pay for this work is tax-free, and just simply included with our hostel bonus each week.  Woohoo!

On another note, our flights have been booked for Southeast Asia!  (Did I mention that pomegranates are apparently grown there?!?  I keep having daydreams of me frolicking fairy-like through a meadow made of the scrumptious fruits!)  We officially have less than a month left of work in New Zealand, and already the remaining time has been flying by.  Our last day at Copper Beech is October 19th, and we fly out of Christchurch on the 21st at 6:00am.  We are even planning to spend our last night in New Zealand in jail.



 



Seriously.

Built in 1874, the building was used as a prison up until 1999!  It is now one of the top ranked hostels in the country, and we figured we might as well have a bit of fun before we leave!

We fly into the notorious city of Bangkok, after a layover in first Australia and then Singapore.  The latter airport is apparently one of the top ranked sites for layovers, so needless to say I'm excited to check out what it has to offer!  (Especially since we land around 5:00pm and leave at 7:00am the next morning.)  I'm still debating about looking into accommodation for the night, as Singapore actually seems a bit expensive!  We arrive at our final destination around 9:00am October 22nd, and I have no doubt that although we will be haggard and disheveled, we will be bursting with curiosity and excitement over landing in a new country!  The flight is obviously a long one, but hey, I considered it a steal when faced with the final price.

After spending a few days in Bangkok, we plan to travel down the coast to the island of Ko Phangan to participate in the legendary Full Moon Party.

After spending up to a week there, we plan to travel down the opposing coast to Phuket, where although many tourists flock, the beaches and scenery are supposed to be unbeatable.  (Now you can see why I'm working so hard at the gym.  It's bathing suit season there!  *shudder*)

Angkor Wat, Cambodia

 We are then hoping to trek back up and over into Cambodia, to visit sights such as Angkor Wat.  After some time spent in this country we will then hop into Vietnam and then up into Laos.  The plan is to fly out of Ha Noi and into Beijing.  After exploring the city and the nearby Great Wall, we will fly to Shaanxi, a province in China in hopes of climbing the ledgendary Mt. Huashan.  Nepal and the Everest Base Camp trek will follow shortly afterwards.

Mt. Huashan South Peak

Even as I sit here and type this, I can't believe that it will all be happening so soon!  Of course things never go completely according to plan, and with the exception of oh...I don't know... maybe your car being stolen, unplanned events can be exciting!

There were a few necessary details that we had to take care of before Asia, and one of those details was that of vaccinations.  After speaking with a nurse, we decided on several vaccines: Hep A and B, Tetanus, Diphtheria, and Whooping Cough.  We also each picked up a 6 month supply of malaria pills.  I wanted the rabies vaccine as well, but apparently it isn't offered in Blenheim, and you'd need three separate injections, each at a price of over $200.  Yikes. I foamed at the mouth a little upon hearing that. Pun intended.

Anyways, I walked into the clinic all hotshot and superhero, thinking, "Hey, I've had blood taken more times than I care to count, and I'm a blood donor.  This will be easy-peesy-lemon-squeezy."  After speaking up that I'd take the jabs first, the nurse, Francis, readied the first needle containing the Hep A and B, and stuck it into my upper arm.

Ow.  That hurts a little more than your average blood test.  Still, I was acting macho, chatting away and smiling brightly, all the while inwardly cringing at the sensation of the vaccine being forced into my muscle.  I swear I almost breathed an audible sigh of relief as she pulled the wretched needle out.  Almost.  Remember, I'm being a hardcore hotshot here.

The next needle (Diphtheria, Tetanus, Whooping Cough) hurt probably four times worse than the first, and I think my eye actually twitched and squinted when it was pushed in.  Again, the sensation of the vaccines leaving the needle felt abnormal, and when my other arm was finally left alone the urge to shriek with joy was overwhelming.

My joy was short lived.

Jordan and Francis chatted a bit while patching up my arms, and I could feel the blood leaving my face.  I felt the urge to put my head between my knees, and just as I was about to do so, I heard, "Are you ok?"

Yes I'm fine. "No."  Damn it.    

I was dragged over to the corner to lay down, and staring up at an extraordinarily dull coloured ceiling from my crinkly paper bed I knew my macho facade had just been exposed.

At least I now had the pleasure of watching Jordan get stabbed with the dreaded instruments.  Maybe he'll pass out or squeal like a little girl.  Come on, faint.  Make me feel better.

Nothing.  Not even a wince.  What a jerk.

Eventually, we walked out of the clinic with Jordan proclaiming, "See?  That wasn't so bad."  The look I shot him probably would have made Hitler run for cover.  As it turned out, the effects were not over, and I wasn't able to lift either arm for the next four days!  Did I mention we have to get booster shots in 10 days as well?  Can't wait!

With all of this being said however, I think it's pretty incredible that humans have been able to develop a means in which to induce life-long immunity to certain diseases.  I'd say a little pain and humiliation is worth it.
 

As my day now draws to a close, I feel the urge to enjoy the last few rays of sunlight with a walk to the grocery store. My new favorite low-cal popsicles are calling my name. 


New Zealand Fact of the Day:

Apparently houses here in NZ are built on wooden bases, to allow for more movement and flexibility because of the numerous earthquakes they experience each year.
  

Ding Dong and Ring Ring

 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."

Eye on the Prize

Prepare yourselves for the most exciting post ever!!!

(It's really too bad we haven't devised a way of detecting sarcasm over the internet)

Due to the ever constant natter of my darling mother, I will be gracing you - my devoted, loyal and ever-loving readers with what will inevitably be a National-Geographic-material blog.

Nothing much has changed since my last update, except that there is now a tentative date for leaving the town of Boredom. ... I mean Blenheim.  The plan is to continue on to Southeast Asia, and then into central China.  After  exploring some of the Chinese culture and a few of their beautiful sights, the journey will continue on to Nepal, where hopefully I will get the chance to hike to the Everest Base Camp.

I'm not exaggerating when I say that the Everest Base Camp (EBC) trek will be the hike to top all hikes that I've had the great pleasure to experience.  Apparently it's not only ripe with gorgeous sights, but also filled with cultural experiences and opportunities.  On top of that, it's my understanding that the trek can take anywhere from 10-14 days to complete.  The distances covered per day aren't completely grueling in length, but rather in the gain of altitude.  In fact it is highly recommended that hikers rest for several days at specific points along the trail in order for their bodies to adjust to the extreme altitudes.  Altitude sickness is a very real and very dangerous threat to those who are looking to make it to the EBC and beyond.

Essentially a hiker's body will react to the lower amounts of oxygen (due to lower air pressure) that are found in high altitude settings.  As with every ailment, people respond differently to stresses on the body.  Some experience fatigue or dizziness, nosebleeds or rapid pulses, while others can develop edema, which can progress very rapidly and is often fatal.  Hence the extreme importance in swallowing your pride and sticking to the recommendations of acclimatizing at the various stops along the track.

 So after my interest in the EBC was sparked, I started to think to myself, "Well I've hiked some pretty high mountains and I've always been fine.  How high is really high?"

One of the highest mountains in Canada is Mt. Robson.  It's summit sits at an impressive 3954 metres (12,972 feet) above sea level.  Mt Assiniboine (obviously this one is for my Dad) boasts an altitude of 3618 metres. (11,870 feet)  Both are incredible, and can be quite dangerous because well, let's face it, they're both big ass mountains.

To put this into perspective, the base camp of Everest sits at a jaw-dropping 5364 metres.  It's mind-blowing to imagine the starting point for a trek can begin at an altitude of 17,598 feet.

(Just for your information, the actual peak of Everest looms around 8848 metres.)

Anyway, apparently over 50% of people will become ill with symptoms of altitude sickness if they ascend rapidly from sea level to 3500m without proper acclimatization. Which is why again, the need for rest and recoup is strictly stressed and enforced on any hikers who wish to pay for a guided tour.

Now it's apparent that all of you are freaking out after this blurb, because if I were to bite the dust up there on that little ol' mountain, there would be only one thing on your minds:

"Now whose blog am I going to read?"

Fear not loyal followers, the trek to EBC is really not all that dangerous.  Like any challenging hike it must be entered into with respect for the mountain and for the weather.  Luckily I possess the necessary respect (most of the time) and I value my life too highly to risk terrible conditions to hike a mountain that will always be hangin' around. 


Now back to the present.


Boring Blenheim.  Woooo.


I shouldn't complain as much as I do.  Winter here is still proving to be quite balmy.  In fact the other day I was walking around in a t-shirt and sandals at 10pm.  It sure isn't like the cursed season in Canada.

The surrounding beauty of this little city is quite eye-opening as well.  Rows upon rows of grape plantations dot the hills that gently roll around the valley, and it's no surprise to learn that the Marlborough  wine region makes up 62% of New Zealand's total vineyards.  The most widely renown wine here is the Sauvignon Blanc, followed by Pinot Noir and Chardonnay.  Apparently the contrast between our warmer days and cooler nights help to extend the ripening period of the grape vines, which produces flavors that one would be hard-pressed to find anywhere else in the world.

Some of the more notable vineyards in the area are Saint Clair Estate Winery, Cloudy Bay Vineyards, Brancott Estate, Hunters Wines, Marisco Vineyards, and Tohu.  It would be interesting to see if anyone back home has any luck finding some of these wine labels.

I should include a word of warning:  Exercise caution before you go tra-la-la-ing down the wine aisle, heedlessly tossing in bottles of these NZ delights.  Many of them will break your bank so quickly that you'll end up eating your breakfast cereal with a fork to save money on milk.

While the Wineries are beautiful to behold, and their products are perfect for a mellow evening, they are something entirely else when you become employed within one.  Let me tell you, it is the perfect blend of hell and torturous monotony packed into one endless row of grapevines.There are currently several different jobs that are taking place within the vineyards at this point in the season.

Stripping - Getting rid of the excess vines on the plant, as to allow for 2 or 3 main vines to fruit over the summer season.

Pruning/Trimming - deciding which main vines to leave after the plant has been stripped, and ensuring that the vines left are clear of small shoots and branches.

Wrapping/Tying - Taking the remaining vines and gently wrapping them around horizontally strung wires.  The vines are then secured to the wires using twist ties.  (Really advanced technology!)

  
Post harvest - pre-stripping

                Post wrapping and tying










Now the thought of being outside in the fresh air all day does have it perks, and it can seem really appealing to those who are in dire need of some cash, but imagine rows upon rows of seemingly endless plants. Envision yourself finally finishing one of those infinite rows, just about to congratulate yourself on your fine and efficient work, only to discover that there are about 2000 more rows to go!  Don't get me wrong - some people thrive in that environment, but I'm the first to admit that I wasn't very good at wrapping and tying.  In fact, I've inherited some very memorable blister scars after my vineyard experiences!

My life as a babysitter and personal slave service is yet unchanged, but in my free time I've managed to cook a few more items that were pleasing to the palate - each of them being surprisingly easy to concoct.

Shish-Kebabs (WITHOUT mushrooms.... fungi is nasty) glazed in an olive oil, garlic and teriaki sauce, with garlic mashed potatoes.


















Egg white, onion and salmon omeletts have become my staple lunch meal.  I am unabashedly obsessed.  Plus they are incredibly healthy for you.

Coconut Prawns with a honey apricot dipping sauce.  Amazingly easy to make, with scrumptious results!




















Stuffed Cheese and Steak Peppers.  Looks disgusting... tastes like a warm comfy evening.



















Alas, it's come to the time where I should probably put an end to this entry, as some of the local hostel livestock has begun to file through the doors.  It will only be a short matter of time before people start to spill into the office, pleading for my guidance to assist them through some very serious and life-altering situations.



Examples of these dire-end of the world-unsolvable-dilemmas:

Guest: "I would like to stay at your hostel, but I see that it says on the board that you are full."
Courtney: "Well, that's probably because we are full."
Guest: "But I want to stay here tonight."
Courtney: "One second.  I need to find my magic wand so that I can magically create open beds for you."

or

Courtney: "Just so you know, we only accept cash."
Guest: "Why?"
Courtney: "I'm not sure, it's just the way the owners want to run the hostel."
Guest: "So if I want to pay my rent on a weekly basis, I have to come to you each week on the same day and pay in person with cash?"
Courtney: "Yup, the same way you'd have to come to me each week on the same day to pay in person with a debit or credit card."


 or

(Phone Rings)

Courtney: "Copper Beech Backpackers, Courtney speaking." 
Guest: "Hello."
Courtney: "...Hello."
Guest: "Hello."
Courtney: ".....Hello."
Guest: "Hello."
Courtney: "Telepathy not included with Manager."

New Zealand Fact of the Day: 

North Americans only THINK they know how to use Roundabouts

Sun, Sushi, and Cows

Well I've endured about all the harassment I can stand concerning the writing of a new blog post.  Here it is!

Apologies for not posting sooner- but life has been pretty dull as of late, especially in comparison to my earlier New Zealand adventures.

First things first - I mentioned that I got a job at a hostel.  I still work at that hostel, and have not yet managed to get fired.  I may yet though, as I find myself constantly tempted to bang cooking pots over people's heads, or to lock them out of the building.  I guess I'll have to settle for using the vacuum to suck up their personal belongings.

...What?  You would too if you were constantly trying to vacuum around loads of garbage, gear, smelly clothing and rancid shoes.

As you've probably guessed, I'm feeling a bit of strain when it comes to the guests here.  It seems that because of their long-term stay status at the hostel, they feel it is their right to leave a huge mess in their wake.  Dirty dishes are the WORST part of the mess, and they are ever constant in the kitchen.  Below is a photo I took of the security cameras in my house that shows the kitchen counter.  So annoying.

One (MESSY) French guy even said to me, "You get paid to do my dishes."



...If I had a dish cloth in my hand I would have strangled him with it.



No bud.  I DON'T get paid to do your dishes.  I get paid to oversee the running of the hostel, and to make sure that people are adhering to the rules set for them.  I also get paid to do the basic cleaning of the place, including the 8 bathrooms, kitchen, common areas, etc.  This includes vacuuming, dusting, tidying, doing the laundry, garbage, recycling and changing the beds.  I also am required to pick up people from transport terminals, and to find jobs for guests through our many local contractors.

Notice how I didn't include babysitting in my list of paid duties?  In spite of this, it's a large part of my job, but the good part is that this position isn't forever.  The day I drive away from this place will be a joyous one, as I will never have to plug my nose as I change a pungent set of bed sheets or vacuum up a colony of fingernails again.  I keep telling myself this and it helps me to see into the future where more adventures await! 

Aside from a few of the people, the hostel itself is actually quite nice.  It's an old one-level house, and all of the rooms within the building are themed with the name of a country.  In fact, the largest dorm we have is the Canada room.  (It can also be the smelliest. Yuck.)

 
The hostel is in a little city called Blenheim, and as far as being stuck in the New Zealand winter is concerned, it's a pretty swell place to be.  Most of the country has received tons of snow already, with the ski hills set to open this Saturday.  Over here in little ol' Blenheim though we have yet to see the stuff.  In fact, this city rarely sees snow, in spite of the fact that the next town over has had rolling power outages and loads of the white fluffy stuff.  I almost laughed yesterday while watching the news, as the top story in NZ was the arrival of the snow!  They were showing images of schools being shut down everywhere, along with roads being closed and cars stuck in their driveways.  It's a hard image to conjure as I sit here typing with the sun shining in the window.  In fact it's so bright out that I had to close the curtain in order to see the computer monitor!






The town itself is a flat agricultural area, but the mountains aren't too distant.  It is surrounded by some very Kamloops-like hills, which provide a nice scenic contrast to the flat lands.  Close by, there is an active farm park known as Wither Hills.

 



 It is a area that provides a network of trails up into the yellowed hills, and the paths range from easy walks to sweat-inducing treks.  I've visited the area several times, and I have to say that while it's no mountain range, it's a welcome break from the level sidewalks of the city.  There is plenty of livestock to encounter while trudging up along the ridges, and one can behold some beautiful views of the ocean or far-off snow-capped mountains.






 I treasure the times I get to go walking through Wither Hills, as it provides me with some alone and quiet time.  Time in which I really get to appreciate the world around me, and marvel in the beauty that can be found in all types of landscapes.

Because it is a working farm area, walkers usually find themselves amidst herds of immovable cattle.  At one point, I ended up trudging through some impressive piles of cow dung, all the while cringing under the unblinking stare of the stand-offish creatures.

 Along the last half of one of my walks, I could see two lone cattle grazing further up the path.  I thought that maybe they would be friendly, and would accept some proffered grass from my hand.








Wrong.  The first cow  barely acknowledged my
presence.  Still pulling at the ground, he stared at me with a big red-rimmed eye, which lolled around lazily in his head.

I moved on to the second and more cute cow of the two, hoping to make a somewhat smelly friend.  In spite of looking more sweet than his white friend, this black beast looked at me as if I were the tastiest piece of grass on the planet.  His stare and stance almost convinced me that had he more than a cow's brain, he would have been contemplating charging and eating me. 

Much of the farm park is filled with benches that are perched along especially scenic parts of the path.  Many of these benches are adorned with plaques that speak of the lives of those who are no longer with us.



















After I finish the mountains of cleaning that I do each day, I often try to occupy myself by learning to cook or bake new food items.  It's tough to really get fancy, as food is expensive here, and it would just cost too much to always be purchasing new ingredients.

I have made several items though, and so far I've mostly enjoyed success in the way they've turned out.  I do need to get a bit more cozy with the use of spices though, as I'm finding some of the cooking to be a bit bland.

I can't remember everything I've made, but below are some of the items I've recently cooked or baked. (with the words "cooked" and "baked" being completely subjective)  As is evident, I am not a pro photographer, so some items don't really look edible or at all appetizing in the pictures.



Mixed Berry and Apple Crumble... YUM


Smoked Chicken, Kumara and Corn Chowder Soup... again YUM


Scottish Flapjacks.  The picture doesn't do them justice, but they are a tasty filling little treat.  Great for lunches and snacks.









Zingy Lemon Crunch and Vanilla Semifreddo - a chilled treat perfect for eating near the warm fire











 Southern Style Frittata - a casserole type dish consisting of potatoes, eggs, and lots of veggies











 Dessert Crepes - making the crepe shells was easy enough, and I filled these ones with chocolate, bananas, brown sugar and cinnamon

 Sirloin and Spinach Salad - just my own creation. Sirloin with asparagus, yellow peppers and tomatoes over a bed of spinach, topped with balsamic vinegar










 Pear and Ginger Cake with Maple Glaze - too bad the custard I was making to go with it refused to thicken properly!












I even attempted to make sushi the other night!  It was actually quite an enjoyable experience, and even though my rolls looked a bit like they had been created by a sushi chef who had lead weights for fingers, they tasted quite good.  It was a rare treat, as the sushi here in NZ is never fresh and just can't compare to back home.  Being a Vancouverite, I consider old and expensive sushi the worst kind of crime, and if I had my way, the sushi makers here would be jailed and forced to watch endless boring videos of how sushi SHOULD be prepared!

 

 I've decided that I will be working in some vineyards starting on Monday.  I will be wrapping and tying old plants.  Thus far I'm not exactly certain what it entails, but I believe it has something to do with wrapping old vine remains around the plant stem.  It will be a welcome break from managing the hostel every day, and a chance for me to get outside more and see some of the countryside!


New Zealand Fact of the Day:

New Zealand is known as a "Plastic Nation."  Almost all transactions are made with a card.  The debit card system here is called EFTPOS, so when I ask to pay by "Debit" they look at me like I'm speaking in an alien language.  Apparently NZ was one of the first nations to use this system.