Tongariro to Christchurch

December 3. There's not really enough material for a full-blown narrative, so you get the four day odyssey bullet point style. If you don't like it, you can always go read someone else's blog. I'll feel hurt and betrayed if you find fulfillment elsewhere, but I'll understand.

*The bus ride from Tongariro to Wellington essentially ate up an entire day. The trip proved largely uneventful until we pulled into some random town (Palmerston North? I can't remember) to take on more passengers. I looked out the window, and who should I see but my buddy Neil from New Plymouth---the first friend I made in New Zealand. I thought I had seen the last of him, but he just won't let me get away. He invited me to go hang out with him and some British girls, but I never got his text later...guess he decided he didn't want to share the Brits. If we never meet again, Neil will always be the only guy who ever cut my hair in a semi-inebriated state and still made me look like Billy Idol.

*I stayed up past 1:00 a.m. writing, so all the lights were off when I returned to my dorm room at the Downtown Backpackers hostel. I tried to keep the noise down as I took out my contacts in the dark and scaled the ladder to my bunk. Everything was going well until my bed yelped. Apparently it does this when I climb on top of a European dude who is sleeping there. Said European dude explained that he had another bed but liked mine better and wanted to try it. Hey, no worries buddy---sometimes I like to sleep in someone else's bed for a couple hours too.

*Early the next morning, I boarded a ferry which would take me to Picton on the south island. Sunny day? Check. Smoothe water? Check. Beautiful scenery? Done and done! The three hour ride across Cook's Straight provided a warm welcome to the south island.

*I hitchhiked from Picton down the east coast to Kaikoura (kye-KOO-ruh). My first lift came from a bitter old man. My second lift came from a bitter young man. Bitter Young Man claimed his farm produced 70% of New Zealand's garlic output. Based on the condition of his truck, I'm guessing Bitter Young Man doesn't actually produce over two thirds of the country's vampire repellent. My third and final ride came from a jolly fellow who wouldn't tell me his real name. However, he didn't mind telling me he grows and sells weed. He also didn't mind telling me his other extra curricular activities. Fifteen minutes in it dawned on me: I'm riding with a straight up criminal. This is why they tell people not to hitchhike. Anyway, we had a good time, and he took me all the way to Kaikura.

*My hostel in Kaikura had a hot tub, and some college students from England insisted I join them for a soothing soak and some strong drinks. Traveling is about gaining life experience. On this night, I learned how bad an idea it is to drink in the hot tub. Apparently, gin improves my German. Not that it matters, because German girls are all stone-cold Amazons. That's all I have to say about that night.

*I really should sleep more. I spent the next day on a coastal walk that takes you right up to the nesting ground for red-eyed seagulls and a couple of seal colonies. The birds didn't seem to want me around, but the seals proved far more hospitable, in a "make yourself at home" sort of way. We got along pretty well. There was one minor incident, where I stepped within a few feet of a ninja seal napping stealthily in a crevice in the rocks. I didn't see him until he bellowed at me and waddled threateningly in my direction. I could have taken him one on one, but but he had a lot of friends who were suddenly eyeing me with a bit more regard. I backed away. It didn't occur to me until later that this seal might have been greeting me in the traditional Maori manner.

*The coastal walk was neither long nor strenuous, but my knees acted like Armageddon was upon us. I told them to shut up. This was the point when they first threatened to file for divorce.

*I got only one affirmative response from my couch surfing requests in Christchurch---from a guy active in the Occupy movement. Lacking any better ideas, I decided to join the protest for a couple days. I hitchhiked down to Christchurch in style, catching a lift from a shepherd in a land rover. I learned a lot about sheep.