Heading South

Our flight to the South Island was smooth and painless- apart from our stinky hangovers. If anything we'd have liked it to be longer so we might sleep off our headaches. On arrival we discovered that our hire car company would pick us up for free and soon we were in possession of a far less swanky gold coloured car- more suited to a couple of budget backpackers than our lovely Toyota in Oz.

The rest of the afternoon was taken at a slow pace- a trip to the supermarket to stock up for the coming weeks and a trip to The Warehouse for budget gas and cutlery (having left ours in hand luggage it got confiscated at the airport- oops!) After all that activity we hit our campsite, laid out a picnic mat and rested our weary bodies in the sun that was eventually starting to penetrate the Kiwi sky. A feast of fajitas later and we were feeling better about starting our adventures the following day.

After an early start we were late to leave our campsite for the day, becoming involved in a long chat with a Buddhist monk staying in the site next to us. He was a pretty interesting character- previously an Aussie farmer with a sideline of weed who, after the break down of his relationship, left his grown up daughters behind and headed to Nepal where he nows lives in a lamastery. Having been in a retreat for three months he admitted he was ready to make up for the lack of human conversation and kept us entertained with talk about anything and everything.

Soon after we headed into the quaint town of Christchurch. All the usual kiwi fare was abundant- sheepskin boots, paua shells, arts and crafts and woollen items aplenty. We took a stroll through the Arts Centre to see local craftsmen at work and samples of their fare. My favourite was the bead shop where I could have happily spent the afterrnoon threading all sorts of wonderful creations, but with a flagging Blakey not feeling so well it was time to leave the 'old people shops' (his words- I though they were quaint and traditional.)

Strolling back through the botanical gardens it was lovely appreciating all the flowers in bloom- it really is difficult to remember it is December sometimes. However, Blakey was still feeling a bit strange and was missing the 'wow' factor that we have experienced so many times over the last few months. Sitting for a picnic by the lake we discussed how we are becoming snobby about activities worth doing. Both our Mums have felt we are not enjoying Australasia as much, but the similarities with home that were initially so comforting are at the same time so ordinary and we have gone from extraordinary sights to extraordinary activties in a way that can make us take ordinary splendor for granted.

As the wind started to pick up and a chill took the air we headed back for a cosy night in our suped-up tent. The purchase of tarpaulins as ground sheet and cover have made us far more confident with regards to a dry night's sleep (Blakey's dribble not accounted) and just as well- when we woke the next morning the air hung with grey, perpetual drizzle- yuk.

Still, we packed up and headed for the town of Akaroa on the Banks Peninsular. Once out of the city the drive was graced with green rolling hills, all very pleasant but for the turbulent skies above. After an hour or so of climbing into the fog surrounded hills we turned a cornor to see a beautiful large natural harbour, sloping green hills acting as magnificant gateways to the sea. Driving around the large horseshoe shaped sides we arrived at Akaroa- famous as the part of New Zealand chosen by French settlers and retained today with the named 'rues' as opposed to 'streets'. The miserable weather was not letting up so we decided to embrace the French flavour of the town and set out in search of a cafe and maybe a delicious pastry. Rather than gastronomical prowess we were greeted with a surly attitude and porr customer service. The French had really left their mark it seems! Fed up of the weather and a little dissappointed with the village we decided to make the best use we could of a crappy day and travel to our next destinationm in the rain.

A few hours on the road and suddenly snow capped mountains came into view. The roads were framed with violet foxglove like flowers and the scenery becoming magnificent. When we reached the turquoise waters of Lake Tekapo in a valley of alpine forests, mountains majestically rising across the water and the sun casting a golden hue around te place we knew we had made the right decision. There was that wow factor once more.