…Like my bank account. But hey, what’s the point of living if you ain’t livin’ it up once in a while?

After my last day of work, I took a long walk around the city just to think. Think about all the time that had passed… what I’ve done, what I haven’t done. Then I thought to myself, let’s do something about these things I haven’t done.

Dunedin was abuzz the day of the test match between the All Blacks and South Africa. The weather was great, city central was crowded with people from near and far, and club rugby matches were being played all around town.

A scrum… local homegrown rugby style.

One of the many banners around town promoting the night’s test match… the first in Dunedin since 2005, and the latest in 100 years. What an event! What a great time to be in Dunedin!

One of the spectacles of the day was a naked rugby match put on by the Bottom Bus. The Bottom Bus is a tour bus that runs along the bottom part of the South Island… not some touring nudist colony. Though these people sure seem confident being in the nude… and in the cold weather. Confidence.

My god, that’s a lot of ass cheeks.

Yeah! Take down that streaker!

Goodbye sea. I won’t be seeing you for a while.

The night of the game, I met up with Chris who drove all the way up from Cromwell to watch the game with me. Glad I was able to share my extra ticket with a mate rather than some stranger at the backpackers.

The Springboks players watch respectfully as the All Blacks perform the powerful Haka, the crowd erupts in cheers.

I’ve been to quite a few sporting events in New Zealand, and the crowd turnout has usually been a bit disappointing. Not this time… the sell out crowd was electric.

80 minutes of splendid physical rugby action (though not nearly as physical as last week’s All Blacks win against the Springboks… that was a bloodbath).

Line out

Boo. Although the All Blacks played well and victory seemed certain most of the game, the Springboks kept it close and scored a late try with only 7 minutes left. It turned out to be the game winning try The worst part was that at that pivotal moment, a streaker darted out at our end of the field, so most of us were too distracted/entertained to even notice what had just happened. Dan Carter couldn’t respond with drop goal in a hectic final sequence, and it was over. My first All Blacks game… a loss. Oh well, I guess it gives me a reason to come back

Night out at the Octagon after the game. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite the party atmosphere it would’ve been had All Blacks won.

While standing in a queue, a guy from Dominoes walked around selling $5 pizzas. I’ll have one!

All my stuff in the dorm room packed up and ready to go. Goodbye dorm room.

Final goodbye to Ben and Katherine. I called their hostel my home the past few months and they certainly made me feel welcome there.

Goodbye Elm Lodge.

A crowd gathering at Baldwin Street for the Cadbury Jaffa Race, the biggest event of the Cadbury Chocolate Festival going on that week

30,000 Jaffas rolling down the STEEPEST STREET IN THE WORLD… down, down, down, down they go.

So what’s a Jaffa? It’s a Cadbury chocolate covered in a candy shell, almost like a giant M&M. The person holding the ticket for the first Jaffa to reach the bottom of the street got a $1,000 travel voucher. Would’ve been very handy for me.

Wet and dirty Jaffa’s straight off the street… Yum.

This is something that’s been going up and up and up, but not likely to be coming down any time soon. Never shall I complain about petrol prices at home again.

Goodbye Dunedin. Next step… head back to Queenstown. There are a few things I had to take care of.

Finally taking on the open road again for the first time in over two months, I was in no rush to dart straight to Queenstown. A short drive north took me to the Moeraki Boulders.

So round, so large, so alien looking.

I got the red Steinlager jacket as a gift from the guys at Dunedin Wool Dumpers when they learned I had lost mine and was heading to a colder place. True, they stole it from bales of clothes that were being shipped to poor countries, but I really really needed the jacket. Thanks guys.

Why here?

Driving back into Central Otago along the Pig Route. One of the reasons I headed to the Moeraki Boulders was to be forced to take another route west. There’s a much shorter route from Dunedin to Queenstown, but I’d been on that many times during my road crew work with Fulton Hogan. How great it feels being on the open road again, driving through the land I love.

Land caressed by the golden evening sun.

I stopped in Cromwell for a burger and drink at the Bannockburn just like old times (old being a few months ago). In the morning, Chris gave me a tour of the vineyard he’s managing and showed me the pruning work that must be done in the winter. It was bleak and cold, and looking at the sky, the outlook for the weather in Queenstown didn’t seem too optimistic. Bugger.

Continuing on to Queenstown, I stopped at the Kawarau Bungy, the world’s first bungy jumping operation. I definitely wanted to do a bungy jump, but was planning to head into town first to sort out accommodation (something I really should’ve booked before since the town is packed with ski bums and families on winter holiday). But as the sky was clearing up overhead, I thought, hell, there’s no time like the present. I’m gonna do it!

Though the 43 meter Kawarau bungy is THE original bungy, I had no intention of doing a 43 meter bungy… especially when I can do a 134 meter bungy… the Nevis Highwire Bungy.

A 15 minute bus ride up a private road took us to the jump site above the Nevis River. No gawkers allowed here. If you wanna see it, you gotta do it (or pay $50 to accompany someone, but that’s just lame).

The jumping pod is suspended by cable above the middle of the river. Fuck it’s far.

One by one, we jump to our doom.

Luckily we’re connected to a bungee cord!

Oh Andy, please don’t fuck this up.

Shit, looks like I’m the next one up.

Strap me in.

Tip toe tip toe tip toe. It didn’t hit me until I was standing there looking over the ledge, facing that dropping feeling in the stomach, fighting every natural instinct to remain on solid ground where it’s safe. Holy crap… I was about to do a bungy jump.

3… 2… 1…. GO! Now? Yeah, GO! Um… AAAGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh…………

…………..

Unbe-fuckin’-lievable. 8.5 seconds of pure HOLY SHIT!!!

Eh, that was nothing. Let’s do it again!

Finally arriving back in Queenstown, there was certainly a different buzz from when I was here a few months ago. It was truly an alpine village now, and the snow covered mountains in the distance looked more splendid than ever.

The first thing I did was return to Bungi Backpackers, a hostel I had stayed at previously. Many places have been fully booked weeks ahead, but with my boundless luck, there was one bed available. And after shifting some other people around, I was able to have it for 3 nights… should be plenty of time to do the other things I wanted to do.

…and one of the other things I wanted to do was go skiing. I didn’t know what the best and cheapest option was, but one guy at the hostel told me what he did, and it sure sounded like the most convenient one. I headed into town and purchased the lift pass/rental/transport combo… $132… done. Just pick up my rentals, be outside the door at 7:20 in the morning, and I’m sweet for 7 hours of snow carving pleasure.

The bus took us up the glorious Crown Range road, a road that connects Queenstown and Wanaka directly, but it’s hardly a shortcut, because it’s so treacherous. I would’ve loved to have driven it myself, but feeling the bus slowly creep up the winding, slick, snowy roads, I was happy to pay the expense to simply go along for the ride.

Of course they have to have this sign in Japanese. You know those people are notorious for leaving a mess everywhere they go.

Cardrona Ski Resort. Lucked out on the weather, lucked out on the snow conditions, simply glorious skiing.

The trails at Cardrona are quite wide and seem to blend into each other, so you can pretty much go anywhere and make up your own trail. A green trail can turn into a black diamond if you decide to (or accidentally) head down an unmarked hill. It’s like a big snowy playground.

White jagged peaks for as far as the eyes can see in every direction.

Absolutely stunning

Standing in the singles line, I never had to wait more than 15 minutes to get onto the lift, even with all the kids here on school holiday.

That’s not me. I like keeping my feet on the ground. Well, usually.

Steinlager jacket, free. Speights beanie, free. Gloves, free (some chick at a hostel gave them to me). Track pants, not free (but i’m multifunctioning them, so that almost makes them free). Skiing in the middle of July… Priceless.

What? What’s this? After coming back from my skiing trip, I thought about the last thing I wanted to do in Queenstown, a skydive. That evening, I asked the receptionist at the hostel for prices and my heart fell to my stomach… that much??? I had to think about it over a dinner of fried eggs and toast. True, this is the most expensive place to do a skydive in New Zealand… but it’s also the most spectacular. I came here to live it up, and that’s what I was gonna do!

There were about a dozen people jumping in our group. Quite a few people can be packed into the small plane, but each jumper needed to be accompanied by their tandem skydive professional and a cameraman if they paid for photos, so only 3 jumpers can be taken up at a time. I was part of the last group, so there was a lot of time to think about what I was about to do. Honestly, I wish I felt at least twinge of fear, because that’s half the thrill of a skydive. Actually, I was more excited about going up in a small plane since I’ve never done that before. But the thought about jumping off the plane at 12,000 feet didn’t bother me at all. Is that healthy?

Lift off.

Me with my jumpmaster, Kras. In a tandem skydive, the jumpmaster does all the work, and you pretty much go along for the ride. And what a sweet ride it is.

Doors open, it’s cold… head back, feet back, banana shape, smile. No worries. Rock back and forth, 3-2-1…

AAAAGHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!

Plummeting towards Earth. Strangely, at this altitude, there’s almost no sensation of falling. It just feels like a heavy mass of air pushing up from below and surrounding you. The sound of the wind passing your ears at 200/km an hour is deafening. The scenery, spectacular.

The curvature of the earth, Lake Wakatipu, snow covered mountains of the Southern Alps and Fiordland in every direction, far as the eye can see. Looking though the goggles, it feels like a picture. It feels like I’m falling into a beautiful photograph. Enjoy the feeling, it doesn’t last.

Pure bliss.

After an incredible 45 second free fall, a slight jerk, I can hear again, it’s eerily quiet, Kras asks how I feel. I feel great… absolutely great. He does some spiral maneuvers and I finally feel a little rolling in the stomach. It’s a good feeling though so I ask him to do it again. I’m on a roller coaster in the sky.

A few magical unforgettable minutes later, we gently land back on earth. Did I ever float back onto earth before. Maybe in a dream. It was such a familiar feeling.

All I want to do is do it again.

With all the money being blown on crazy activities, I’ve had to make a few sacrifices. Unfortunately, the easiest thing to cut back on is food expenses… especially with the $3 McDonalds cheeseburger meal.

Dave, here’s your picture of the new skate park near Queenstown gardens. Not too flash. Certainly not as memorable as the one in Wellington.

Though I’ve been working full time hours at Dunedin Wool Dumpers, the folks at Adecco have been hooking me up with some weekend work as well. So I haven’t had much of relaxing on the weekends, but why relax when I can get paid to tour Southern Otago with Fulton Hogan on such a gorgeous winter morning?

The catch is that I have to occasionally get out of the warm van to put some sign up in the freezing cold. Actually, half the time I wasn’t even doing anything then. You know when you look at a road crew and there are four guys standing around watching one guy work? I was one of the four guys… it just sort of happens.

The signs were to notify the public of the closure of Clydesvale bridge that weekend. The funny thing is that the bridge was being worked on at 10:30 in the morning and we couldn’t get around to putting up some of the signs until after noon. Sucks for some drivers who had to drive half an hour to find that out.

No comment necessary.

Quick shot of Gary before helping him load the plate onto the trailer. Gary and I went on an excellent adventure driving around for half a day just to collect these plates, a thermometer, and a container of hot water. A ridiculous amount of petrol and human resources wasted just to get things that should’ve already been at the work site. But oh well, that’s why most people have jobs I guess… ineptitude.

How many men does it take to fill a container of water? This has got to be the most expensive water ever.

Jason (we did the stop/go work together a few weeks back) and I then drove ALL the way back to Dunedin to get a single electric blanket the crew needed, then ALL the way back to the bridge to deliver it, then ALL the way back home to Dunedin. Total extra hours for me… 3… total cost to the contractors… it’s like they don’t even care.

One of the other presses at the Wool Dumpers. This one compresses things vertically. It’s a bitch to load and even a bigger bitch to feed straps to which was my job.

Look at that intensity!

Daniel moving a cage around with the Hyster. I really wish I had a forklift license so I can do that.

I remember the first time I tried baling up wool packs. Spent a good 10 minutes trying to unhook the darn thing! Gave everyone there a good laugh watching me struggle. Was a pro at it by the second week though, and it was my turn to laugh when the other temps tried it.

A cool looking industrial scale used to weigh the heavy bales of wool.

Snapped this shot doing a night-fill shift at Countdown (there goes another Saturday night). It’s my desktop background right now.

The weather’s been typically shit on the weekends, but one day I decided to venture up Mt. Cargill anyway to get a panoramic view of Dunedin. Halfway up the hill, another vehicle came backing down all the way. “What the hell are they doing?… amateurs”. As I drove up the hill myself… the wheels started turning, but the car wasn’t going anywhere… yeah, even with my V6 3 liter engine and nice tires. Ohhh. With nowhere to turn around… back, back, back I went.

Determined to get to the top, I parked the car at the bottom of the hill and walked up the slippery slope for an hour in the blustery chilly winds.

More clouds had rolled in by the time I got to the top, but it was still a sweet as view of the Otago Peninsula and all of Dunedin.

Scott and Scott, a couple of the guys I regularly play pub poker with. Last time playing at Heff’s so I made it a point to bring my camera and take some pictures.

Nathe is one of the tournament hosts… One of the many friendly familiar faces in town.

Ofa changing the oil in my car after I mentioned I hadn’t done it since buying the car (I know… horrible, but not as horrible as the thick black oil the drained out the bottom). I’m gonna feel a whole lot more confident about selling the car when it comes time to do that.

Tony and Tiola working away sewing the wool packs… one of the sights and sounds it will be weird not to see or hear in the morning anymore.

It was quite a cruisy day at work just stamping and bundling. Daniel and I probably did half the work we were supposed to, but Neil didn’t really care… It was my last day at work. You’d think I’d be happy to leave and never have to wake up to the cold, the smell of sheep, hands covered in lanolin, the sore muscles… but it’s just been an awesome experience working with real Kiwi blokes, laughing and telling stories all day, and feeling really appreciated.

Curly straps.

Neil’s mastery of the forklift is just unreal. It would take anyone else a day to do what he can easily in an hour. I guess that’s why he’s always playing solitaire in the office when I walk in… because all his work is already done.

With two hours left in the day, Neil told me, “You’re fired”. That was it… my experience at Dunedin Wool Dumpers was over. We all shared a few handshakes, hugs, sincere thanks, and heartfelt goodbyes. Come to think of it, it was my last day of work in New Zealand… ever.

I then headed back to the Adecco office to hand back my smelly work boots and thank Kaye for all the opportunities she gave me. My whole work search started out quite sucky in Dunedin, but it all ended up great and memorable… as it always does.

So there it is… just a few of my memories from the past 3 weeks. It’s almost tragic all the things I’ve done and people I’ve met that weren’t mentioned, considering I’m supposed to be the Chronicler of All Things. But I guess memories will remain my my memory alone. I’m just greatful to have been able to see Dunedin from the point of view of someone working and living here and to have had a taste of the Southern Man life.

The previous update isn’t even complete yet… but this is breaking news! Tonight, I finally won a pub poker tournament! YEEHAW!!! This was at Heff’s Hotel which I’ve placed 5th and 3rd in the past few weeks… but finally, the breakthrough victory. True, the prize was only a voucher for 4 pitchers of Tui beer and the souvenir chip seen above. But everything it represents… Oh, I’ll cherish it… my precious.

The Magicbus leaving early in the morning. Good riddance.

A very short lived obsession with the microsoft card games.

Dunedin might be one of New Zealand’s major cities, but like everywhere else, amazing nature is only a short drive away. One unseasonably warm afternoon, I drove out to Sandfly Bay on the Otago Peninsula to scope out some of the wildlife.

Away from the more heavily touristed Taiaroa Head, a walk along the unspoiled beaches of Sandfly Bay lead to…

GRAAHHHHH!!!! New Zealand Sea Lions. They’re big, they’re mean, and they’re fast (you wouldn’t think so with their clumsy waddle, but they are). This one gave me a good 10 meter chase up the sand dunes when got too close to take a picture. Pretty scary slipping down the sandy slope, but what a shot!

That is ONE ANGRY SEA LION. Looks like something from Resident Evil.

That is one chilled out sea lion.

Big waves and a pastel sunset.

Watching the All Blacks vs. Ireland game at an Irish pub. After last year’s World Cup fiasco, it seems many Kiwis have become skeptical of their team’s dominance in the sport. When the game was tied 11-11 in the second half, it seemed entirely possible that Ireland could win, even though they’ve never beat the New Zealand in the history of the sport. The All Blacks eventually won, order was maintained, but questions still remain.

My mate Ruairí from Galway was disappointed by Ireland’s loss but extremely disappointed by how abominable the Guinness was.

Hmm, what can this be?

28 seconds until the next price change at the Stock Exchange. Awesome idea!!!

After the traffic control job for Fulton Hogan finished, Kaye at Adecco immediately called me with a potential work available at Dunedin Wool Dumpers, but warned me that when I arrive at 7 in the morning, the boss might not be expecting me, might not want to train a new guy and send me home, will likely be in a bad mood, the building will be cold and dusty, and that the job would be repetitive, dirty, and strenuous. She gave me every reason not to take the job, but I took it anyway hoping I would be sent home in the morning (I get paid for 4 hours just for showing up). But it turns out the boss was cool, there was plenty of work to be done, and it’s exactly the type of character building Southern Man work I was hoping to find in Dunedin.

So what exactly is wool dumping? Simply put, it’s taking bales of wool and pressing them into packs that can be shipped overseas. A wool bale arrives in an already pressed state, so this more powerful pressing and binding process is called dumping. My job is simple… feed the metal straps into the machine once the bales are pressed. The press operator on the other side secures the straps and sends the packs down the belt, and the process repeats. It’s zen-like.

Baling hook… such a simple and indispensable tool for moving around heavy things in a manly way.

12:30 is pie o’clock. Why would anyone want a burger from McDonalds when they can have this? I’m so gonna miss these when I come home.

I don’t know what Kaye was talking about… Neil, the boss, is awesome… a down to earth Kiwi bloke who says what’s on his mind and doesn’t mind what he says. Best part is he keeps the radio on The Rock and no one dares change it.

Most of the time, Daniel is the voice yelling over rumbling of the machinery telling me which straps to feed into the press. When we’re not operating the press, Daniel is a guy that talks about the Subarus he builds and wrecks, the music playing on the radio, and the cool things going on in Dunedin.

The stamp identifies that the recycled wool pack came from us.

Me stamping and bundling… one of the many things to do when not operating the press.

Working full time hours now, I only only run into Martin when I do cleaning at the hostel on the weekends. Just doing it 2 days a weeks cuts the cost from $100 to $70… every dollar counts.

Backing up my photos on an external hard-drive… something that should’ve been done a loooong time ago. I don’t even want to imagine the potential disaster if something should’ve happened to my laptop.

Nora and Alex are one of the couples who run the hostel. The other couple, Ben and Katherine, own the hostel (haven’t gotten around to getting a picture of them yet)… Alex is Katherine’s brother and they’re from Chicago. Ben and Katherine are having a baby. Nora is a German, though I assumed she was from Chicago as well because she doesn’t speak with an accent until she spoke German with Martin, which totally confused me because I’d never heard Martin speak German until that point, though I knew he was, and he speaks English with a French accent for some reason. Anyway, they and the other regulars at the hostel are all part of my colorful social network since I’ve been here.

All Blacks tickets… I GOT EM!!! Katherine helped me get them online before they were available to the general public using the hostel address as a residential address. Even then, all the terrace tickets have been sold out so I had to get the next cheapest tickets still available. As of now, all tickets are sold out. Fuckin’ fortunate! The game is against the Springboks, the South African national team and winner of last year’s rugby world cup. It’s gonna be amazing. Only question is… who will I give/sell my second ticket to? hmm…

Quarter of 8, which means 7:45 to people who speak American English. But apparently, the expression "of" (meaning number of minutes before the hour) make no sense to Kiwis and English people. What else am I saying that doesn’t make sense to people… I wonder.

Daniel stomping down the sorted and baled wool packs.

Tiola sewing up damaged wool packs which we then bundle and send back to wool scouring plants. I wonder how much profit recycling wool packs make the company with all the labour put into sorting, sewing, and bundling them… they must be worth a lot more than they look.

Listening to some Tiola and Tony speaking Tongan during smoko… one of those paintings waiting to be painted moments.

Smoko for me is coffee and cookie time. Ohhh coffee… it’s never been so good.

Dumped wool. Sometimes a strap would snap, the sound reverberating throughout the storehouse like a gunshot. And you know what happens when one goes, they all go. BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM!

An packed bale contains the fleeces of about 60 sheep and weighs around 200kg. Depending on the type of wool, a bale can be worth $1500 or more. So every time we run a tri-pack through the press, which can be one every 2 minutes, that’s $5000 worth of wool. Shiiiiiit!

One photo to represent a pretty shitty Saturday afternoon. The plan was to head down to the peninsula to see the albatross and penguins with Ruairí and an American girl, Sarah. On the way driving there, I took an onramp onto what looked like a multilane overpass. Turns out it was a single lane road, and that I missed a give way sign and cut somebody off. Hoooonk. Woo… that was close. Suddenly, blue and red lights were flashing on the dashboard of the car behind me. Turns out the guy I cut off was an off duty cop or detective or something. He pulled me over. "GET OUT OF THE CAR!" yelled this Clint Eastwood / Dirty Harry character, "Where’d you get your license?!". Fuckin traumatic. After a few questions about what I was doing in New Zealand, he got all my info and drove off. I really should’ve asked if I was going to get a ticket in the mail because now I was left wondering what my consequence will be. Anyway, after that incident we continued onto the peninsula, but distracted by what just happened, I forgot to stop for petrol. Oh well, there MUST be a petrol station somewhere… the peninsula is quite big and there are several communities on it. But as we continued driving, there wasn’t a petrol station in sight. We stopped and asked a random stranger outside their home who told us there might or might not be one open in Portobello. It wasn’t too far a drive, but it didn’t matter because it was closed when we got there. Bugger. Bugger bugger bugger bugger. Sarah and Ruairí asked around to see if anyone can help us… I’ve seen this before… my adventure with Dan to find THE LONGEST PLACE NAME IN THE WORLD. I was in no mood for adventure after the traffic cop incident. I didn’t want to be stuck in a car with no gas like what happened in Wellington, and definitely not on the peninsula’s narrow winding roads. So I turned back, had a somber drive back to town, put some petrol in my tank, and much to Ruairí and Sarah’s disappointment, didn’t return back to the peninsula that day.

The next day however, I was keen. It was too nice a day to lament on yesterday’s fiasco. After giving up on waiting for Sarah, Ruairí and I headed out to try again. Driving up that ill-fated road again, but this time it was without incident.

At the Royal Albatross Center, we didn’t want to pay $30 to take the tour of the colony (it just doesn’t seem right to have to pay to see nature). There were plenty of informative displays about these majestic Southern Hemisphere birds though.

Because the barbed wire fence wasn’t enough to keep them out.

Ruairi and I headed toward the cliffs hoping to see an albatross on our own. He was walking about 10 meters ahead of me when suddenly, whooooooooffff, this… thing… came swooping in in front of him. It might as well have been a plane, with a 3 meter wingspan and a body like the fusalage of a light aircraft… it was HUGE. We both couldn’t believe what we just saw. It circled around a bit and retreated to the colony on the other side of the cliff. Unfortunately, other people started gathering at the cliff, and we didn’t have any more close encounters with the albatross. The picture above is absolute shit, but just realize that the bird is as far away as the lighthouse, and hopefully you’ll get a sense of their massive size.

A colony of spotted shag… some more of New Zealand’s special native birds.

A whole crowd of us waited at the beach for hours waiting for the penguins to come out, but they never came… how rude.

What famous American document was signed in 1776? Can’t believe no one else put their hand up. Hoorah for being American, half price drinks… and silly wigs.

Shipments of wool… they never end.

Forklift accident.

Branding bales of wool.

Bas and Michael sorting wool packs. They’re temps from Adecco as well but somehow got stuck doing only this shitty job all day (literally… covered in dried sheep skin and who knows what). Bas is Dutch, looks like Gonzo, complains a lot, and gets defensive when people take the piss out of him… which makes it that much funnier.

Ofa’s been working here 27 years! Or is it 17?…. either way, Holy Forklift!

So yeah… that’s been my last few weeks. Working heaps, stuffing my face with pie, coming home sore and smelly, and finally saving up money. The folks at Dunedin Wool Dumpers said I can work as long as I wanted, though they’ve axed the other temps (guess I’ve made a good impression). So I’ll do just that… work a couple more weeks until the All Blacks game. Then… who knows.

Kia ora and good evening. I’m still in Dunners at the moment. My hope of finding steady work and saving heaps of money didn’t work out quite as planned. Many promising leads during my first few weeks of job hunting only led me to dead ends. Frustrated and a bit worried, I watched what little was left in my bank account bleed dry… to the point where I wouldn’t even be able to afford the petrol to drive to another city (it’s an absurd $2 per liter now). Oh no! Somewhat stranded… I’ve been doing whatever it takes to survive, and more importantly, make the most out of this chapter of my trip.

Not for the past 3 weeks anyway… sorry for the delay! There aren’t even many pictures in this post. I’m slacking bad.

There’s no better way to spend a beautiful afternoon than feeding ducks at the botanical gardens. Well, if had money… I could think of a hundred different things, but that’s not an option right now.

Even the duck food is free because they don’t want people using bread, which would attract the seagulls.

If you didn’t already figure out, I love superlatives! So naturally, I had to visit Baldwin Street, the STEEPEST STREET IN THE WORLD.

No, the house isn’t tilted, the picture is. And soon, you will be too.

Stunning… absolutely stunning. A few weeks ago, the Highlanders beat the Crusaders in their last game of the season. It didn’t count for much since the Highlanders still finished the season with one of the worst records and the Crusaders still had the best record. But still… for fans of Otago like myself, it was a magical moment.

As cheap as the Elm Lodge was at $100 a week, I wasn’t going to be able to afford that much longer. The bleeding had to stop. But going back to sleeping in the car isn’t an option in the city… it’s way too cold for that now anyway. Luckily, I’ve been able to start doing something I’ve been wanting to do since coming to New Zealand, clean for accommodation. It’s not glamourous vacuuming and scrubbing toilets, but it’s great having a warm bed everynight, a hot shower every morning, free washing, free internet, and more company than I can bother introducing myself to.

George, the hostel cat, has the most unfortunate face.

This is where I spend a lot of my free time, the TV lounge. During the week it’s nice and quiet and feels like home… but on the weekends when the tour bus come through (yes, the Elm Lodge is unfortunately on the Magic Bus route [though thank god it’s not on the Kiwi Experience… thank…god]) it’s mayhem… full of loud obnoxious English tourists passing through Dunedin for the night, leaving a mess, and having the most painfully mundane conversations about how great the partying was in Queenstown.

A compartmentalized life.

There are plenty of guests who aren’t part of the tour bus crowd though, and they’re alright. A few are in my situation; sticking around and trying to find work, like Bob and Wytse here who joined me on my pub poker adventures in town.

Hundreds of people packed the Regent Theatre for the annual 24 hour book sale; picking through old books while a guy was singing opera in the background background.

Whatever it takes… even stocking supermarket shelves overnight. I picked up this job through a temping agency doing night fill work at Countdown from 9pm til 6am. Of all the jobs I’ve had here, this was by far the lamest one. Thank god it was only for 2 nights! The craziest part was that was still cleaning at the hostel. So after the first night of work, I came home, sort of napped for 2 hours (impossible really with people coming in and out of the room), wake up and clean, stay awake for the whole day, go back to work, then do it all again. Ended up only having 4 hours of sleep in a 72 hour period. It as trippin’.

I’m playing copious amounts of pub poker… COPIOUS, about 4 nights a week. The regulars here are really tough though. I’ve only made the final table once and got a nifty NPPL beer can holder for it, but hope to have a breakthrough victory before I leave here.

Dave, you would’ve been proud.

My fingertips started peeling once I began staying at the hostel. It seems the calloused hardships of the past few months were shedding away.

An beautiful ride on the Taieri Gorge Railway. I would’ve never been able to afford the trip, but my mate Paul works on the train, so he hooked me up with a complimentary ticket!

Then how do you cross from one carriage to another? How???

We were let off the the train for a scenic stop and crossed the bridge by foot.

…and watch the train go by (will be an excellent moment when I edit my Year of the Kiwi video together eventually).

The end of the line, time to turn back.

Paul is very passionate about trains and was happy to show me what his job was all about.

The best part was having the opportunity to ride in the cab and seeing how the train is controlled. Something you would never be able to do in the States with all the security on public transport. Hopefully no one ruins things here by doing something foolish.

It’s test rugby season again, and there’s one more game I MUST see here, All Blacks vs. Springbok. How I’ll get tickets for this game I don’t know… but I’ll do whatever it takes.

Near disaster! I had left my headlights on one afternon and the car was dead when I got back to the car. No worries, I just hailed down a passing car and they pulled over to help me jumpstart the car. It wouldn’t start though… seems like the battery was too fried. Uh oh. But that didn’t worry me either. I just got a biggerm, beefier vehicle to pull over; this time an SUV. It still wouldn’t start at first, but the guy doubled up my jumper leads with his jumper leads (didn’t know you can do that), and the car finally started up. So where was the near disaster? It seems while I was leaning over the car, my camera turned on in my pocket and the lens extended and jammed. I turned it on and off, on and off, but it wouldn’t correct itself and retract and extend all the way. Oh NO! It’s weird how during the whole car issue, I didn’t break a single sweat, didn’t even begin to feel slightly concerned about my predicament. But with the camera, I was frantic. Had scenarios running through my head, will I have to get it repaired? Buy a new one? God, not again, I can’t afford this shit now. I cursed my car for having a dead battery. I cursed my jeans for being too fitting. I sat there cradling with my camera in my hands. Okay, time to take drastic measures. I am going to turn the camera off, then turn the camera on… and as the lens starts extending, I’ll yank the hell out of it, hopefully pull it back into place. Either it will work, or my camera will break for good. Okay, here we go, one shot… bzzzzzzz-PULL-zzz-snap-SNAP! Shit… that didn’t sound too good. I opened my eyes to take a look. Lens is fully extended. That’s a good sign. But here’s the real test… I turned the camera off, expecting something horrible to happen - bzzzzzz. Turned it back on - bzzzzzz. Off - bzzzzz. On - bzzzzz. YES! YES! YES!!!

Urban possum.

A face only a mother could love.

View of Central Dunedin from one of the hills surrounding the city.

A strange halo around the moon.

The Octagon on a sunny day.

Telephone booths in the city remind me of a cross between UK telephone booths and Chinese pagodas.

The Octagon is lined with theatres, bars, cafes, museums, and shops.

Cadbury factory tour, heard it’s not really that great. Maybe I’ll get around to it if I run out of free things to do.

Save Mart is an awesome second hand store in town. Just think of something you need… red fleece pullover, and there’s a whole rack of red fleece pullovers to choose from. It’s amazing. I lost by blue ski jacket somewhere a couple weeks ago so will probably buy something to replace it soon. Sort of tragic, I’ve been through so much in that jacket.

There’s something interesting about the shape of the smoke stack of the Speights brewery. I learned on the brewery tour that it was drawn onto the blueprint as a joke, but the boss liked it so much they kept it as part of the building design.

A typical Kiwi tavern and host the NPPL poker tournament Saturday afternoons. I’ve done very poorly there.

My hostel is in a very central location, but it sits atop a hill. Even though it’s only a 5 minute walk into town, I usually end up driving because my lazy ass dreads the climb back home.

Originally, I was supposed to do the night fill job at Countdown for two weeks, but for some reason, Adecco (the temping agency) lost that contract. Counting on that steady work, as lame as it was, I was pissed off by this unexpected development. Luckily the folks at Adecco have been working hard to find me other work, and it all ended up being a blessing in disguise. One afternoon, I was called down to do a drug test, get fitted for a pair of steel toe boots, and go through the induction process to start work for Fulton Hogan…

…as a lollypop man for a roadwork crew. Oh my god, YES!!!!!! I’ve actually always wanted to do this and wondered how people got this job… and here I was.

The roads of New Zealand, the roads that have, in themselves, become part of my Kiwi experience… it was such a privilage play a part (a very small part) in their development.

Charles says go.

Jason is the other half of the traffic control team, so I spend about 7 hours on the radio communicating about oncoming traffic with him, but since it’s not a particularly busy road, we spent most of our time talking about the most random bullshit (had find some way to make the time pass). The best part of the job was that the work site was over a one hour drive into Central Otago, so I spent a couple hours of my workday napping or enjoying the passing scenery in the van and getting paid for it!

This is Martin, my German friend at the hostel who cleans for accommodation.

Hmm… what game could this possibly be?

I usually avoid tours, but this is Speights. It wasn’t a question of if, but when.

… and this was the time. Went with a few guys from the hostel who were travelling together.

The tourguide gave an informative and entertaining look into the history and making of Speights, but one thing that seemed strange to me was how he kept on mentioning Steinlager Pure during the tour. Steinlager is another New Zealand beer, and the guide obviously liked it, so he made no reservations about comparing the two brews. Leave it to a Kiwi bloke to be perfectly honest.

The Speights Gold Medal Ale is called so because of gold medals it has won in beer tasting competitions. And here they are.

Beautiful copper brew kettles.

The line of Speights’ brews.

At the end of the tour, we were given over half an hour to pour ourselves as much beer as we wanted. I knew sampling part of the tour, but this was like Christmas!

Cheers!

Just a couple weeks after rooting against the Crusaders, we were cheering them on as they beat the Waratahs, a team out of Sydney, in the Super 14 Rugby finals. Kick Aussie ass!

A disturbing exhibit at the Otago Settlers Museum.

Ray and Lewis hard at work.

You would think waking up at 6am and standing out in the freezing cold and rain all day would put a damper on my spirit. But the only thing sad about that day was that my week of traffic controlling was over. Oh well, new opportunies are just around the corner.

A very brief summery of what’s been up since the Milford Track.

That’s Bastien, a French dude who started the Milford track with us, but he continued on to the second hut on the first day (and skipped the 3rd hut as well, finishing the track in 2 days… crazy dude). We were both considering going to Dunedin for the Super 14 rugby game and made tentative plans to travel together after the track. After playing some e-mail tag, I found him in his car outside town, and we set off on our road trip the next day.

Beautiful land from every point of view.

We attempted driving the dirt road all the way to the Manapouri power station and further on to the Doubtful sound…

… but trying to cross the snow covered hill proved too difficult and we turned back. Jeez, just 1 1/2 year of not driving in snow and a couple inches feels treacherous. I’m in for a shock when I come home.

Nothing between you and the miles ahead of you.

Except an occasional Southland traffic jam.

This is the route that takes you from Te Anau along the entire southern coast of the country to Dunedin, totally worth the extra mileage.

The first stoplights I’ve seen since leaving Nelson! Invercargill is notorious for sucking. I couldn’t imagine how bad it could be until someone described it as a bigger version Greymouth. Okay, that’s bad… but I still had to see for myself. Once there, I tried to find something positive about the city…

… and found a Pak’n Save, so it ain’t all that bad!

Waking up in Bluff the next morning, I ran down a walking track to catch the sunrise, only to find myself running all the way downhill and ending up at the street. Oh well, it wasn’t a very impressive sunrise anyway.

When I finally made it all the way back up the hill, I found Bastien drinking tea with a girl who was also sleeping in her car that night. Her name was Selina, and she wanted to go to the Rugby game in Dunedin as well. The more the merrier! She joined our convoy and we continued east.

Bluff is famous for its Bluff Oysters, so I thought it was going to be a nice scenic town, but it’s quite depressing.

Newborn tuataras at the Southland Museum; these creatures, native to NZ, are actually not lizards but are descended from the same line as dinosaurs.

Welcome to Invercargill, Mcdonalds, poultry show… YEAH!

Walking to Slope Point, the southernmost point of the South Island. There are more southern points in NZ, but that would require an expensive ferry ride to Stewart Island.

As far south as I’ll probably ever be.

Cheers!

Being homeless is fun!

The sign said petrified forest, but all I saw were rocks.

I know, I know… don’t cringe at my last statement. It was a joke. The ring formations in the “rocks” were pretty cool.

At Nugget Point, we saw Yellow-eyed Penguins emerging from the water and waddling into a group. I’ve never seen penguins in their natural habitat before, so it was quite exciting… a whole group of us standing at the lookout shelter, ohhing and ahhing.

As if the Penguins had some previous engagement to attend to, they all started waddling off into the hills. Intriguing.

The lighthouse at Nugget Point

Walking to the lighthouse at Nugget Point.

You’ve been warned.

Ohhh… shield yourself from the horror!

Out in nature, it’s easy to find a place to park and sleep.

Where am I? Europe? The name Dunedin comes from Dùn Èideann, the Gaelic name for Edinburgh, capital of Scotland. The Scottish influences don’t stop there.

There are bagpipe parades everyday.

Actually, this was a graduation ceremony for University of Otago, NZ’s oldest and most prestigious university. The student population keeps things here lively and cheap.

A Chinese restaurant.

A church. There are many churches here. Real churches.

They don’t have Cherry Coke here. It’s Coca-Cola Cherry, and it’s expensive.

I’m excited being able to take pictures of pretty buildings again. The beautiful structure in the distance is the train station.

Selina likes pretty buildings too.

This Taieri Gorge Railway takes passengers through “gorge”ous Central Otago.

Maori, Gaelic, and Christian symbols… This cross has an identity crisis.

So… the whole reason we came to Dunedin, to catch the Super 14 rugby game between the Auckland Blues and Otago Highlanders. Though I lived in Auckland for 3 months, I never supported the Blues. It would be like supporting the Yankees… and you know how I feel about the Yankees. Actually, Rich turned me into a Highlanders fan back when I was in Wellington… even though they have one of the worst records in Super 14 rugby. Oh well, maybe there’ll be magic tonight.

Drinks before the game.

Drinks during the game at Carisbrook Stadium, aka The House of Pain.

Atlas (a pretty good Kiwi band) playing a free pre-game concert. The tickets for the game only cost $21. Now that’s a night of bargain entertainment.

The dude dropped his other sword while running out. A sign of things to come for the home team.

Crouch, Touch, Pause, Engage!

With the cheapest tickets and the student crowd shenanigans, the terrace is the best section to watch (or not watch) the game.

How far I’ve come since seeing my first rugby game in Auckland. This time I was the one explaining what was going on in the game.

Look who it is! While at the game, I got a surprise call from Chris asking if I was still in Dunedin and if I was at the game. Yes, and yes.

And as always, trying to get people around him inebriated. Good times. Bastien, you suck at doing shotguns by the way. It’s not like sipping some some fine French wine. Haha.

After 80 minutes of entertainment and a few brilliant moments… the inevitable, another Highlanders loss. Trounced.

A Speight’s can wasteland.

Ohh fun!

Too much stuff happened that night to even begin elaborating.

A crowd gathered for the Otago Rally (looks like the same crowd from the night before). It’s not a big event, no WRC cars, but it was still worth enduring the cold to watch dirt spew everywhere. And you know the real reason anyone goes to these events, to see some destruction. Unfortunately, there was none that day.

Griiiiiind

After the first dozen cars, the rest were pretty shit - “And coming up the hill, Joe Schmo from Invercargill” - vrooom, putter, putter.

And I thought Wellington was hilly. Dunedin is home of the steepest street in the world, so I’ll check that out sometime.

I’m trying every avenue in my quest to find work, even government resources.

A stop light

A rainy night

Selina had disappeared the day after the game and we had no way of contacting her. A couple days later, just as I was walking around a street corner, the sound of a honking horn filled the air and there was Selina in her car waving at me. After all the other crazy reunions I’ve had in NZ, I wasn’t even mildly surprised. Selina’s car battery is a piece of junk and needs to be jump started everyday. How dangerous (and an ingenious way to meet strangers)!

With Bastien and Selina gone, I booked a hostel for a week. It’s about time there’s a bed waiting for me at night. It turns out I really like this city so it’s time to settle down a bit, make some money and start the final act of my adventures here.

So here I am at a hostel in Dunedin, enjoying the free internet, a warm bed, hot food… waiting for any good news on the job front. Dave, my mate from Rakaunui adventures, is flying back home today. We had a long chat on some miracle phone credits that refused to go away. The call reminded me that my time here, too, will end. At this moment, I’m watching cricket on Sky Sports… the Blackcaps are in England to avenge their test series loss in NZ. They had quite an atrocious start but Mccullum gave them a fighting chance with heartbreaking 97 and out… ohh so close to a century. They’re huge underdogs, but I’ll still be following this one closely. There’s a stress pimple on my chin, but I’m sure it will go away, and my fingertips are peeling.

the good news… i won the most incredible hand in pub poker last night. dealt pocket jacks, raised on my turn, guy across from me re-raised, i went all in, he called me on it. everyone had folded at this point. “Do you have queens or better?” he asks. I show my pocket jacks. He shows his pocket jacks. Funny. We start to split the pot. The dealer turns the flop… all hearts. Oh wait a minute here… everyone eagerly awaits… burn and turn. Another heart.  Jaws drop. We look at our cards. I have the jack of hearts.

An update this soon? Pat on my back.

Back in Queenstown to put some real effort into finding a job. Long scar up the hill is a gondola that leads to a scenic view over the city. At night, the complex on top is lit up and looks like a UFO floating over the city.

Rich was travelling around the South Island with his mate, so we quickly met up to say hi and goodbye.

Spent much time at the hostel lounge enjoying unlimited internet and watching movies. It was weird watching Lord of the Rings and recognizing half of the scenery. I guess it ruins a bit of the movie magic when you can start naming the mountains of Middle Earth by their earthly names.

Decided to go up to the scenic lookout over Queenstown but was too cheap to pay for the gondola. Good thing I have legs.

A luge ride up top.

That’s Danny, some English guy. He asked me to take a picture for him… next thing I know, we’re hanging out together for the rest of the day. Oh, the spontaneity of independent travel.

Spectacular view of Queenstown and the Remarkables mountain range in the distance.

Took the gondola down, think I did it the wrong way around.

I can’t believe I walked all this way!

At some pub to drink beers and talk about life. The two guys in the background were from Yorkshire. When they all started talking about English football in their heavy accents, they might as well have been speaking Greek; none of it was comprehensible.

That night, after I returned to the hostel for free soup, we went on a little pub crawl. Left the World Bar before the partying backpackers crowded up the place.

At around 11PM, we returned to the Red Rock Bar where we were earlier, and look who was still there! Frosty (he had a name now) had been there the ENTIRE TIME since I had left 4 hours ago! He was one drunk man.

Reminds me of Christmas.

Queenstown is FULL of Asian tourists.

There are probably more resources for Japanese people here than English speakers. That ain’t right.

One usually doesn’t get excited over urinals, but pissing into a can that you go on the piss on is gleefully congruous.

After 4 days in Queenstown without any luck in my job search, I did the only reasonable thing, leave Queenstown. On the drive south toward Te Anau, I passed the Remarkables, which are glorious with a light dusting of snow on top. Can’t wait until they become proper ski fields. Maybe there’ll be more hospitality jobs available then.

A density of sheep.

harhar

Lake Te Anau at dusk.

A mushroom that looks like it’s topped with yummy sweet crunchy bits.

A kea, a very clever alpine parrot. I’ve heard some crazy stories about their shenanigans and look forward to having some of my own.

So why am I in Te Anau? This town is the gateway to Fiordland National Park, home of three Great Walks - the Routeburn Track, Kepler Track, and Milford Track. My plan… FINALLY do one of the Great Walks in its entirety, and without a question, it had to be the Milford Track. Most of my time here has been spent sorting all that out. It’s only possible for me to show up and plan this on a whim because it just became winter season (yesterday - May 1st - matter of fact), and I don’t need a hut reservations which people book months in advance. But that doesn’t by any mean make it