More cheese Gromit?

G'day. Been busy since the last post - Lake Tekapo, Mount Cook and now Oamaru, on the south-eastern coast. Very glad I followed the Lonely Planet's advice (I'm not on commission) and checked out Tekapo, it's stupidly gorgeous and probably the most turqoise place in the world. It's a hallucination of a lake. Mount Cook and the surrounding mountains are beautiful too, like an advertiser's picture of the Alps; you can't climb it unless you're a lot more hardcore than me but there are some really nice walks in and around the valleys surrounding it, which I did and felt reasonably chuffed about. Managed not to mangle an ankle too which was a pleasant surprise. There are the usual cheesy tourist mugshots of me and mountains stored on my camera ready for your perusal and they WILL be available to view, just as soon as I can find somewhere to upload them without having to remortgage the house. Got into Oamaru last night, dunno if there's much to do here but the place I'm in is very nice, bit hippyish - and there's a cheese factory to visit! Hold me back! Off to Dunedin tonight or tomorrow. 'Til next time, au revoir.

The fun continues

Hullo again, quick post as I have to try and wangle a seat on a bus in a minute. In Akaroa, on the Banks Peninsula, about an hour and a half from Christchurch. Fantastic scenery, again (sort of comes as standard around here) and I've even been doing walks! Like, further than the pub! Really! It can only be a matter of days before my legs revolt but for the matter I'm feeling vaguely healthy and quite smug. Also, the backpackers' I stayed in last night, at Le Bons Bay just over the peninsula, is quite possibly the best place in the world - great views, lovely people and, for the equivalent of less than a fiver, a five-star dinner. Funtestic, as they say round these parts. About to find out whether I'm going to Lake Tekapo or down the coast to Oamaru, will keep you posted. Take care all.
PS. Shout-outs to my coz Kate who's about to embark on her own voyage of discovery (canes mine and I'm jealous, best of luck though!) and to a relatively new member of the world, Lisa Kingston. A star is born.

Sleeping with Roy Walker

Kia Ora. Not just a classic drink, but (how cheesey am I?) 'Welcome' in Maori, it says here. In Kaikura, on the eastern coast (I've decided to restrict my time to the South Island rather than go for broke and only have half an hour in each town), popular spot for scenery and wildlife. Of the latter, I've seen 2 sperm whales, about 100 dolphins, seals and an albatross. Of the latter, the Kaikura Ranges (massive hill/mountain backdrop to the town) have provided one of the most stunning views I've ever seen, ever. Ever. Even better when seen from the ocean with a bunch of dolphins doing backflips and generally pissing about in front of it, just cos it's fun and they can.
Rest of the time in Wellington was a blast, and often blasted - seemed to spend the majority of my waking hours with a drink either in hand or on order. Splendid. A particular highlight was the afternoon spent swimming and Pimmsing at the High Commissioner's residence (friends in high places dahling - cheers Laura you're a doll!), even if it did give me a touch of guilt at the sheer un-backpackerishness of it. For about a nanosecond.
Spent a night in Blenheim, capital of wine country, on the way here, but after the previous week's excesses thought I'd better control myself - that, and I'd have had to cycle back from the winery after the tasting: suicide! Did have a nice glass of Pinot Noir in the evening to make up for it though. Oh, and if you're wondering, Roy was in the same dorm as me. Magic.
Probably on to Christchurch tomorrow, unless I stay on to swim with dolphins - too many pamphlets! Too many decisions!

Gandhi and the Pink Pussies

Now I've got your attention. Not actually a band, sadly, but the above-mentioned were among the cast of characters witnessed in the pub last night. Not even the strangest, either. That would probably be the leatherboys. Or the Smurfs.
In Wellington, NZ, staying with a friend from home; turns out the Rugby 7s tournament is on here at the moment and it's de rigeur to attend wth you and your mates in fancy dress. Or, for that matter, dresses: I haven't seen so many blokes in frocks since 'Priscilla, Queen of the Desert'. Not that I fancied informing them of the comparison, they being approximately five times my size and unlikely to bear a perceived slight to their manhood with equanimity. Especially from a Pom. Besides, a lot of them looked simply fabulous and who am I to question?
Curry tonight, exploring tomorrow. More when I have it.