I was glad to see the arse of australia as it at well and truely raped my wallet, liver and dignity. New Zealand was the next stop and my geographical ignornace saw me leave the airport in shorts and t shirt (as you sat at home with you BBQs and warm fosters, basterds) - hilarious to everyone else in their thermals and wooly hats. Christchurch was the first stop, a place my nan would love but wasted on an alcoholic pervert like me and the compnay i was keeping. After three days of culture, rock climbing at the YMCA (haha, the song is so true) and discovering the cheapest drink in town was a 3L box of cosmopolitan, i was ready to get on the Magic bus( actual name of company) North.
Kaikora was the first stop and it was stunningly beautiful, but even better on a fishing boat driven by a man with one leg, 6 fingers and a personal vendetta against the sea. Despite my efforts i was quick to learn this man had no social skills but could gut a fish in 10 seconds. I managed to catch a few red cod and catfish before we hauled up the cages with the crayfish. We headed back to his house where we ate our catches, drank a stupid amount of wine and swapped tales of the sea. I woke up in a haze minus my shoes, watch and coat as our bus driver dragged me onto the coach. I swore to god that if i made it through the worse hangover i d ever experienced i'd never drink again and would devote my life to curing AIDs or murdering graham norton.
Nelson was where i found myself on my birthday and as soon as everyone on the coach had found out they set about plotting the quickest and cheapest way to get me paraletic. Tequilla was the simple answer and though im sure it was an awesome night i dont remember much of what happened. Though a german guy who dressed and acted like a stereotypical peado came and sat next to me declaring in his creepy accent that i 'looked like fun!'. desptite the councilling i v started sleeping with a screwdriver.
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