With mixed emotions, I am back home at Sydney now. While I am sad that the trip is over, and that it will be a long time till I go on an exciting adventure, I am pretty happy to be enjoying the comforts of a sedentary lifestyle. I like having my own bed to sleep in. I like using my own kitchen. My own living room. My own computer. My own routines. The comfort of my own personal normal, something that I've grown to miss in the last two months.
Well, as I settle into my daily routine, I recon that I should wrap up what I did for the last part of the trip, as it is well worth mentioning in this final travel posting. When I last left you, I had just arrived in Queenstown on the southern island of New Zealand. The town is somewhat of a hub for most of the stuff that goes on in the south part of the island, and as such it is basically a year round resort town. And now, in the summer months, the activities could be broadly classified as extreme. I hate that label, yet I don't how else to clump together bungie jumping, hang gliding, para-sailing, jet boating, river surfing, super-swing riding and a few others that slip my mind. Easy ways to kill yourself? Easy ways to spend a large amount of money for a thirty second adrenaline rush?
I passed on the most of these thrill events because of the price per second thrill rate. I ended up hang gliding for forty-five minutes, in what turned out to be perfect conditions. It is very surreal to be flying in the air, it feels more like a movie than a reality. It is a stunning, amazing experience. I feel like I got my money's worth, especially when Christy, who opted for the less speedy paragliding option later in the afternoon, heard the gossip that my guy flew us double the time that he was supposed to. Luck had turned its face towards me, and would happily keep looking over us for the rest of the trip.
The next day we went on a wine tour. We got bused out to drink various Pinot Noirs famous to the region, and other similar sturdy grape varieties. It was a perfect day to be hanging out near grapevines and drinking the good stuff. I usually refrain from mentioning movies, but if you remember all the dialogue in Sideways about the Pinot Noir, Miles and Maya really are onto something. It is a special and beautiful drink.
Of the factoids I picked up, one wine guy said that it was the only place in the world without phylloxera infestation, however, a quick google search says that the bugs have actually made it to the island, so pox on that guy. Maybe they some how killed all the bugs in the last few years. Yeah right. Suppose I will have to drop the whole island purity idea I had till just now. Sigh. Anyhow, 2004 and 2005 are good years to buy New Zealand wine, but the grapes that are out now are a month behind, so it looks like 2008 is going to be a tough year on the Kiwi wine guys.
Fjordland. Yup, that is really its name. We drove over to check out some fjords by spending a night on a boat within one. In case you don't know, a fjord is a body of water that was formed when huge glaciers shoved down mountains to get to the ocean, turning stream beds into huge sound-like bodies of water surrounded by unsettling steep mountain cliffs. The fjord we ended up on is called Milford Sound, which goes to show that those early european settlers must have gotten fjords and sounds confused all the time. I'm not sure how, really, considering that fjords tend to be epically beautiful while sounds tend to be like, well, like sounds.
Luck stuck again on the water, in the form of sea-born mammals. We had three close run-ins with a pod of dolphins. When we signed up for the trip a few days back, the big boat was full, and we somehow ended up on a smaller boat with a wooden hull that the dolphins prefer. It was a win, win for us. The first sighting was right down in front of the boat, only meters from us. But it got better. We were kayaking in the morning, and they came back to play. This time they were only feet away from me. One of them actually nudged Christy's boat. Astounding.
We wrapped up the trip, excited to get back home, in the Auckland airport passing the time when the place got inundated with rock stars. There was a huge concert, Lolapolaza-style, the day before, so we happened to be getting out of town when they all were. Rock stars stand out like sore thumbs. Lily Allen and her posse came and sat down with us in the lobby along with some unknown British boy band. I played it cool and acted like I didn't know her.
The only bad luck I had was back in Sydney, where I broke one of the bottles of wine. Sad, indeed, yet two out of three ain't bad.