Farwell to the "Land of the Long White Cloud"

South Island has not only been dramatically better weather-wise than we were led to believe but also fulfills the promise that nothing can really prepare you for the beauty, the splendour, all the superlatives you care to choose.  I know we look a bit battered above (11 days of coach travel does that to you, especially with 06.00 wake-ups every morning....!) and a bit world-weary but, honestly, there is nothing comparable which we have so far seen in our short lives.

We have done all the active bits that Glenn's head for heights will allow and watched all the bravehearts throwing themselves off bridges tied vaguely to an elastic band and running off cliffs with a handkerchief and a  ridiculously young but strapping and blond Kiwi tied to their backs.  Why more don't die remains a mystery, but I'm sure my travel insurance wouldn't have permitted it (that's my let out).  But we have variously done insane jet-boating thru wafer thin chasms, white water rafting (I don't think I'll ever do it on that "pussy" Aveyron river again), sea-kayaking, lugeing down mountains and loads of other stuff that all leaves you with a gigantic and stupid grin from ear-to-ear.  Glenn's Bucket List is getting ever shorter as he ticks off gliding in the most beautiful spot on Earth.  There's just 2 things left he's having trouble with so if any of you have any ideas, the input would be appreciated:  (1) Play the guitar like Mark Knopfler (2)Fly a Tomcat off a Nimitz-class carrier (back seat would do).

You can be on the most beautiful beaches in the world and then an hour later be awed by the snow on Mount Cook.  You can stick your finger in the super-heated vent of an active volcano and then go walk on a glacier.  You can stroll in glorious rain forest with tree ferns ten-a-penny (and, hey, no snakes, no spiders, no crocs) and then stand under a waterfall in spooky Milford Sound and the watch the blasted sandflys drown. You can see a Maori ceremony and then watch the whites massacre a haggis on Burns night in full tribal regalia (the whites, not the Maori).  I'm not going to go on about it because it mostly defies description.

Yes, we'd like to come back.

There aren't many people here and we seem to have met most of them.  That's also an advantage with House Exchange and the family we are staying with in their gorgeous house high in the hills above Christchurch are typical of the unfailing helpfulness, friendliness and humour of these "can-do" pioneering people.  If there is one complaint it's that you can't whip a map out on any street without every other person coming up to you to ask if you need help with the way.  And they're not trying to sell you anything.  Glenn's managed to leave all 3 phones and simcards in various houses and boats along the way (head still in the clouds, silly grin, silly man) but all have been reunited via the Grand Plan here in Christchurch.  Why don't they make a mobile that takes 3 simcards?


Yes, I know it's a bit far.  But, Hey, (notice if you will the use of the acquired vernacular) whether you are shattered after a 10-hour plane ride or a 20-hour one, there's not much difference.  And if there's anyone who says they'd like to get out to somewhere like rural France but where they speak English, then we can recommend New Zealand to you.  The only condition is that you like lamb.  Glenn is in heaven.

Back slowly towards reality tomorrow via the delights(?) of Bangkok and the usual day-to-day worries of how to fill the last few empty weeks in April in the houses.  Then we've got to start being nice to people again.  Oh, well, it will all seem like dreamtime............