SYDNEY/KIWI ADVENTURE-3: Waitomo to Auckland to Queenstown

As I was gazing out the windows of my coach that was driving me from the tiny village of Waitomo up to Auckland there was one thing I couldn't shake from my mind. I simply could not get over how much New Zealand's rolling green hills and abundant cows and sheep (especially sheep for there are far more sheep than humans in Kiwi land) reminded me of the quaint British countryside. Of course the fact that the weather was lovely and the people extremely friendly and cheerful was a constant reminder that I'm not back in the woefully dismal "Blighty", but I was still surprised at the similarities between the scenery of the two countries. At least I was until I reached the south island alpine paradise known as Queenstown (see above photo)

To reach Queenstown however I would have to get back to Auckland first and then take a two hour flight from the airport. As I left Waitomo the weather was beautiful but as we started to approach Auckland I noticed grey clouds starting to creep in. As the coach dropped me off right in front of my hostel it was pouring down with rain. "How very British" I thought as I sojourned to the local bar for a few drinks, it's wet and cold, a stark contrast to the scorching hot Auckland of yesterday. But that's what New Zealand is like, prone to severely contrasting weather. I must have jinxed it when I made my little comment about it not being very British to have good weather!

As I boarded my flight in Auckland it was still raining. However there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Our pilot informed us all that the weather in Queenstown was quite pleasant, with only mild cloud cover. Sadly by the time we got there it was even more wet and cold than Auckland! Once again the swiftly changing weather proved to be working against me. I checked in to my hostel and wondered what I was going to do for the rest of the day (being only around 5:30pm). It was still plainly obvious to me however that Queenstown is not even remotely like the rolling green pastures of the Waitomo are and most certainly not at all like Britain. It's scenery was more reminiscent of sights such as the Norwegian fjords or Alaska. Since the forecast for the rest of the week was looking more favourable I was sure to not let the bad weather get me down.

I signed in to my room, an 8 bed dorm to find that my other roommates were all young attractive females. This might sound like a very welcoming situation to find oneself but it really wasn't quite as wonderful as it sounds. Clearly I was the only male crashing a room that previously only consisted of women. The sight of a slightly tired, sweaty, unshaven and rain sodden bloke tramping into their domain was enough to warrant some looks that were cold enough to kill. Having several beautiful women cast derisive looks of contempt at me that might well have been strong enough to burn through my very skull was not the loveliest experience I've had in the time I've been here! Was I not to staggeringly incompetent at chatting up members of the opposite sex I might have been able to turn the situation to my advantage (sharing with several hot girls, sounds good to me) but all I could get out of them was admissions of where they were from. That's more than I would expect though, seeing as how I am someone with the sexual magnetism and charm of a used tea-bag.

Things got better though as after searching around town for a while I noticed that the rain was starting to subside and the clouds were slowly parting from around the mountains. As I saw the snow capped peaks around me slowly reveal themselves I was treated to a wonderful sight, one that I decided I wanted to see from a better angle. Wasting no time I rushed to the cable car station and bought a ticket for the ride up. I got there just in time for some spectacular photographs of the clouds washing away, the rain well and truly gone for the day. I ambulated around the area for an hour or so before returning to town.

So it seemed to be a rather sedate day in a place that's primarily geared towards satisfying the insatiable appetite of adrenaline junkies (like myself). Kiwis can proudly boast that Queenstown is the thrill seeker's capital of the country and quite frankly it wouldn't be at all audacious to postulate that it's the adrenaline capital of the entire world. After all it's quite possible to do just about all kinds of dangerous, exciting, thrilling, fast, reckless or irresponsible activities that all but the most suicidal of adventure seeking lemming-esque nutters could possibly desire. Paragliding, skydiving, bungy jumping, 400 foot high swings, whitewater rafting, extreme mountain biking, acrobatic flights and so much more that it can (and does) fill an entire book sized brochure.

But all in good time I say. I'm here for more than a week and I anticipate that I will be completing any number of insane death defying passtimes and prattling on endlessly about them on this blog. Until then I'm off to the bar to have a few pints and see if I can interact with some of my fellow backpackers in a more favourable way that my previous encounter.