barrytown (pop.40)
for the sake of ease, and cost, i've bought a ticket on one of the point to point backpacker buses that crisscross nz, and i joined up with it in a small place called barrytown. this place has a two line entry in the lonely planet, and i was intrigued as to why it was our first west coast port of call. when i arrived, i was even more puzzled: the place is literally a pub/ hostel, and about thirty houses. no shop, no nothing.
as the evening progressed, things became clearer. the owner of my bus company is best mates with the red necks who run the pub, and he sends all his busloads of hapless travellers there to boost, or rather create, the chap's business. it's all a bit of a machievellian ploy, and annoys the hell out of everyone that is stuck there for a night. still it was actually quite funny to be in this tiny hillbilly settlement, and the locals were hilarious: inbred loons, great stuff. certainly off the beaten track, though not in the up an isolated mountain way that i'm used to.
i'm currently in franz josef, a little town underneath a massive glacier which i'm going to hike up tomorrow. it looks beautiful, but it also seems like a lot of effort.
lovely people, pretty people
it must come from having such a beautiful country, awesome rugby team, and good standard of living, but the kiwis are the most friendly people i have ever met. from supermarkets to bus stops, everyone has a polite and friendly word for you. the travellers here are a bit different to those used to the asian trail though. i'm used to being a sweaty, dirty mess most of the time: here, all the girls have make up on, and all the guys have packed their hair gel. my first night in a hostel i was disconcerted to see that everyone looked like they were ready for a friday night on the town... i met one girl who was carrying a hairdryer around the country! with honking big diffuser (i have no idea) to boot! bizarre: i'll just have to live with being the scruffy, although i prefer well travelled, one.
christchurch
it's amazing what a lick of sunshine can do for a place. christchurch may not be spectacular, but it is certainly pleasant: entrancing for prisoners of any urban jungle, but merely background, albeit pretty enough, to anyone spoilt on sunny days by the cherwell or lazing in greenwich park.
i have been being kept amused by two hilarious young scots (rory and emily). rory had heard from some dubious source that you could pay your way around nz by busking, so he bought himself a guitar today; despite the fact that he can only play the chords to wonderwall, and that badly, he hit the streets with a sign and a smile. amazingly, he made nearly $20 in three hours... and he really cannot play the guitar at all! bemused faces and comedy moments abound, especially when he busked in his underpants at lunchtime. in the central square. the packed central square. legendary.
new zealand
it's fricking freezing in christchurch! next time any kiwi makes a quip about the english summer punch him.
south east asia: epilogue
i am absolutely devastated to be leaving south east asia; the $1 meals and $3 banquets, the insane road journeys and impromptu karaoke sessions, the indonesian rock and burmese rap, the sense of trepidation every time you approach a toilet, the gargantuan language and communication gap, the barking dogs, the temples, the mountains, the beaches, and, maybe most of all, the vast multitudes of people. interested people, annoying people, drivers, farmers, students, scammers, hookers, touts, they all add up to an incredibly challenging, but fascinating, experience. i think that is what's going to hit me the hardest, the complete anonymity when i walk down the streets of new zealand: no shouts of 'transport', no cries of 'handsome man', just bleak, disinterested, silence.
i think the other factor that's depressing me about moving on to kiwi land is how much it will remind me of home, especially around christmas time. when you miss the people you love it's easier if you're in the middle of some alien situation that's keeping you busy: when it looks and feels like you're back in england, just without your friends and family, it surely has to be a lot harder.
gutting: i'm going to miss south east asia so much, pretty much miss it all bar the roaches (evil cockroaches) and michael learns to rock (evil germans). i've seen so many of the things that i wanted to, but i still think i might have to come back for some more.
indonesia: epilogue
i never thought that there was another country in the world that could be remotely like india until i came to indonesia. if that's a compliment, it's a slightly backhanded one: alongside the glorious heterogeneity of races and landscapes, and the amazingly tasty and diverse cuisine, there are the hordes of people and cramped spaces, and the inexplicable obstacles prevalent when trying to complete even the most seemingly mundane of tasks. still, as with india, i really enjoyed my time here, and could easily have spent a month or more going to some of the other islands. it's not the zealous islamic heartland that the statistics and cnn images might suggest, but rather filled with interesting, inquisitive, people of different races and religions.
if you love volcanoes and mountains they're here, if you crave stunning beaches they're dotted around as well; if you want to go off the beaten track it's easily done, and if you want to spend a few days watching english football and getting drunk that's not difficult either. all in all a great place, one requiring more planning and patience then others, but certainly potentially very rewarding.
drunken scrapes
i think cricket's a bit like throat clicking in swahili: if you haven't got to understand it during your formative years, you may as well give up the fight. a fact which, of course, will never deter slightly drunk brits eulogising on the game to hapless canadians who have to endure it for a few hours, but never mind. i've had quite a nice, boozy, final few days in kuta, mainly in front of the afternoon session with some like minded chaps (a special mention to neal, a legendary 51 yeear old irishman whose predilection for, er, professional ladies led to an impromptu 'marriage' on a java beach last week... doh!)
i've actually been quite well behaved here, considering it's reputed to be something of a den of iniquity, so i thought i may as well go out with a bang on friday night. after a few afternoon (cricket) beers, the real session stared at around 8pm: i was accompanied by rather jovial irishman rich, kiwi lovely evelyn/angie, and, bizarrely, anna, one of the swiss girls i'd met on the ferry to flores who'd resurfaced in bali.
i think everyone knows how these things go. plentiful beers and some pool led onto paddies, a ropey, dark, bar which was bombed the first time round (i can see why it might have attracted fundamentalist maniacs... i'm pretty sure friday nights in the mosque don't look like this). from there we moved on to new bounty ship, a bizarre club that's decked out like a pirate galleon, down to lighted rigging and bar staff in sailor suits. by now it was about 1am and things were starting to get a touch out of hand, but the girls had all sorts of silly ideas about dancing more and the suchlike, so our rapidly expanding group went on to mbargo, a bar that would be quite cool if it wasn't so full of people that were so drunk.
at 3am we got turfed out and i thought the night was at an end: sadly not, as i was manhandled into a cab, alongside a plethora of other people we had acquired, to go to double 6 in seminyak. cab rides away from where you're living when you're drunk are always a harrowing experience for me: i can't help but think i should be heading towards bed, not away from it, and i always end up getting a touch confused. we got to double 6 to discover that entry was $5: unacceptable, but the girls were adamant, and so it was that about 4am i found myself looking at a corrugated iron fence, before getting a leg up and staggering over it.
the second hurdle was a sheer brick wall: perfectly manageable with a leg up, but more of a challenge for the last man up. step forward, taking one for the team as usual, me. the ascent took ten minutes, numerous attempts, a hand up from rich who was too pissed to actually pull, and culminated in an undignified scramble over the top. it also led to me scraping all the skin of my wrists and forearms: i look like an angst ridden teenage girl who's gone at herself with a pair of scissors.
at 7am the music stopped and, pausing only for anna and angie to jump into the sea, we stumbled back to kuta. the 17 hour bus ride to solo was not fun, especially as my arms hurt like buggery, but i'm here now, and intend to make the most of cheap food by gorging myself on chicken satay for a few days.
