whats wrong with my beard??

I was asked for ID for the first time today in New Zealand. Having a good bush on the face is primary in avoiding getting your passport out. Despite my orangeness and the satanic parantage people assume go with it, my facial fuzz has done me more good than harm. It keeps me warm in the winter and keeps me looking rugged in the summer.
 In our glorious english summer i faced a point where i had to shave the whole damn thing off. After 3 festivals, cold rain and wind told its own story across my bedragled face. When reaching camp bestical i happened to glance in the wing mirror of a 4x4 and realised i had suddenly become homeless.
A beard can be a magnificent thing. Sir Ian McKellan, Sir Richard Branson, Rolf Harris have all defined their carriers through the use of facial hair. Not to mention the infamous Chuck Norris, who I hear has not a chin beneath his beard, but yet another fist.
As I was perusing the contract and staff handbook handed to me by 3 time kiwi golf champion Grant Hattaway this afternoon I was struck by the clause stating that 'all employees must been clean shaven'. Having come face to face with my down trodden self in Lulworth Cove I immediately took razor to face and came out a clean and respectable young man. To which my collegues responded with cries of 'what the fuck have you done" and 'get some prit-stick, put it back'. Hairless, I resemble a 14 year old Paul Bettany, which would be excellent news if I was 14 years but any thing under the age of 18 not only seems a little weird but will alsmot certainly get me put in jail.
I don't think i will ever go back to 'baby' smooth shaven again. I keep trim and tidy and the opposite sex seem to enjoy it. If i turn up to my first official day of work on Tuesday and I'm asked to shave I shall tell the restaraunt manager to shave it herself, if she can..

Holy shit it's snowing

Lets keep this short and sweet-

Wellignton - Spent the night at another base, dressed up as women tog et free booze. Got the ferry over to picton in the morning

Hanmer Springs- Drove down the east coast, asked for directions and went the other way. Ended up a mountain holiday resort, chilled in some hot springs. casually climbed a 1500m mountain in 24 degrees. stupid. nice waterfall though.

Christchurch - Arrived, got lost, left.

Arthurs Pass - Drove to west coast in the early evening via moonlight through teh mountains. stopped in hick town. met some locals. met some giant parrots. nice place. fucking cold

Franz Josef Glacier - WEt, cold, cloudy, big block of ice.

Fox Glacier - Sacked it off, too much rain

Queenstown - 5 hours and 500k later we arrive, go boarding, get sunburn, then drink our selves silly for two days with Stef from Auckland. I like this place. weathers a bit mental. sunbrun to trenchfoot, then its snowing in town this morning. Job sorted in posh bar, really want second interview for less posh fun bar. watch this space.

are you sure what side of the glass you're on?

A (expletive deletive) Road Trip

After hunting around all across the internet, through pages of back packer guides and forums, we popped into Jucy campers as he happened across it in Auckland on Sunday. We went through all the spiel with the guy at the desk and came out with a quote for a 'budget camper' for $648 for ten days from Auckland to Queenstown. This we decided, though a little pricey seemed reasonable compared with every where else we looked. Still, we held off on booking until the following day. Que Josh, the aussie travel agent at Base. After spending an angry 20 mins on hold to Jucy he calls the boss and asks him to sort us out. 15 mins and a fag later we have a relocation camper for $9 dollars. Total. The only difference between this and the others was that it was missing a fridge and tv, and it wasnt painted the delighful Jucy Lime and Pink. Sold.
So we hang around Auckland for one more night, get an early one (after tequila at 5pm) and hit the road after 11am heading south. Mid afternoon on Monday we hit Rotarua, look at some steaming holes in the ground and choke on the sulphorous fumes. Then we head for Taupo and the glorious lake. New Zealand has a huge camping scene and as such there are tons of 'free camping' spots where you can park up and sleep without paying a penny. So we park in the wrong spot immediatly and get woken up at 11pm by the wardens.We wake up 3 m from the edge of lake Taupor, photograph some ducks then hike to Huka falls. Mindblowing waterfall.
We then take a dip under a thermal waterfall on the banks of the river. You would pay thousands for a jacuzzi and view like this at any resort
We hit the road, back onto the highway 1, the road that stretches from Auckland all the way to Wellington in the South. WE skirt lake Taupo and Alex nearly takes us into the water he's so taken by the view. We then get close to the mountains. A heavy mist decends and we can barely see anything around, though we can see looming shapes in the distance. We hit the desert road, a landscape reminiscent of Nevada, desolate and sandy brush. Slowly the mist begins to clear and to our left we see rolling hills covered in heatherish substance, and to the right....2500m of snow white mountains, Ruepehu, Tongariro and one i cant spell. The road then immediatly changed again and the landscape opens out into rolling green hills, undulating across the distance. The road takes us up and down, round and round, from valley bottom to mountain top in minutes. at every turn a breathtaking scene opens before us.The battery on my camera is rapidly flattening, every time i put the lense cap on something takes me breath away and i fight to get out teh window in time to capture it, often getting smacked in the head by the lense cap as it gets caught in the wind.
We reach Palmerston North and Robert and Alison kindly take us in for the night, feed and water us and give us a bed. Thank you both. We dont stay long and get back on the roadbefore 8am. WE decide the highway is boring so we take a 'detour' i assume is a cut through the mountains. Turns out to be a cut UP the mountains, taking us at least 1000m up and over the range, with sheer cliffs on one side and a single track road. oh and its pissing with rain which only gets worse once we get into the clouds. none the less, the view is incredible as always, except for the car we saw 200 ft bellow us buried in a tree in the ravine. made me a little nervous. Wellington today, Picton and the South Island tomorrow. 600k down, 800 to go...

The new queen of beer pong

. Saturday sawme in bed by 9, but kept awake most of the night by a Spanish guerilla looking d due with a snore like a bear drilling holes in a coconut while driving a combine harvester across a scrap yard.
Sunday saw us finally venture out into the sunshine and Auckland city.
We strolled through som random streets, aiming for the Auckland domain (hill) which I knew existed just not where. We spied a mountain in the distance and decided a small hike would do us some good. We reached the summit of the volcano (yes, volcano) and arrived at the most stunning 360 degree view of Auckland and half of the north island peninsula. Across the water we could see a rain storm over Waikiki island. "oh look" says Alex, "it's raining over there". Within 5 minutes It was "oh shit, it's about to piss it down here" and we sprinted down the mountain.Then we climbed another 'mountain', saw some ducks and stood in reverence of our glorious dead.

The rest of the afternoon was spent vegetating, followed by amazing sushi in a Japanese restaurant round the corner (I will never eat Tesco sushi again). Then we went for a quick beer....6 hours and 7 games of beer pong later we finally get to bed. tomorrow the road trip begins, once we are both safe to drive...

there may be 50 ways to leave your lover, but only 10 ways to exit this plane

Im feeling a little special today. jagerbombs and jet lag have muddled me up fantastically. After 30 hours of hell in the air (tin foil plane food withstanding) alex and i hit the town straight away, 10 beers and a $200 dinner later and 'special' doesnt even cover the feeling i have at this moment in time. alex is wollowing in a darkened room and his own self pity while i struggle with the english language. usually, once the shit filters off and my fingers hit the keyboard the whimsical nonsense flies from my digits uncontrolably. Today, I am seriously having to think which is hurting considerably. I think I may leave things here for now. the adventure has only just begun...

God Bless British petroleum

It's 06:00 and I'm stood outside the urban retreat hostel in Taupo, cold and knackerd despite the early night (god damn english football fans). Chris the Swiss rocks up with a coffee in his hand and I'm close to taking a swing at him and running off with it. Turns out even 120000 miles away from home you can always rely on BP and The Wild Bean Cafe to be open 24/7 365.


The coach rocks up and we hop on. We're informed b our overly enthusiastic driver that we have a good hour to drive then we swap coaches to get kitted up. Be cruise round the lake and an just about glimpseTongariro, mt Doom and Ruhapeho in the distance, shadowy reminders of New Zealand's violent geological history.
Thanks to some minor for thought and planning I only have to take boots, crampons and an ice axe for the trip. The latter two items surprised me, worried me a little but ultimately excited me. Finally, some adventure and best of all some snow before I go.

We hit the track at 08:30, and told to get on with it and that our gides would meet us in an hour before w e start the 'interesting' part. Having long legs and a long standing habit of speed walking I'm one of the first to reach the first checkpoint. By this time, with thermals, hat, gloves and a snowboard jacket I am sweating my balls off. Only the distraction of the realisation that I am treading in Frodo and Sams hairy foot steps keep me going without too much bother. I can't moan too much, I am all too aware of how much the weather can change just a few hundred metres higher, though the sun is holding strong in the sky and the clouds seem more afraid of Mt Doom than Hugo Weaving.

Myself and 9 others arriving close by are put into group one with our guide for the day Terry. Reminds me alot of Taggart from Eureka, chirppy aussie with a penchance for dangerous activities.After an hour cruising across boardwalks and hopping streams we finally get to some seriouselevation. The track is fairly narrow, the ground uneven but not much snow. We climb for a good hour continuously till we reach a small plateau where we promptly collapse then crack out the food and water. Terry has somehow managed to talk the whole way up while I struggle to breathe but it's good to see he's also got a good sweat on. At this point you have two options, head north towards Tongariro, or east up Mt Doom. 16 Americans had to be rescued last week from Mt Doom, needless to say the felt rather sheepish. We head over south crater where the snow really shows, it's ice and hard packed crunchy snow. The crater is flat as a pancake and surrounded on all sides. We stop a short way across and it's crampon time.
I have never worn crampons before but they are a shitlot of fun. Once strapped on to your boot you feel indestructible, with 8 steel spike on each foot you can't slide on the ice if you wanted to. We jog around a bit and do star jumps to make sure we are all strapped in safe. We look like a bunch of mountainous lunatics.

Then we hit e first part of the Devil's staircase. This is slightly hard than the previous climb but not all together that bad. TE crampons and ice picks (I felt like and icy ninja) made it almost effortless, aside from all the effort. We hit another plateau and the view....from where we came we can see all the way down the valley and south across the national park and Mt something (I am not good with kiwi names) over 140km away, it's white peak poking above the smaller ranges surrounding. In front, another valley, to the right Mt Doom and just peeeking out behind it is Ruhapehu, also covered from head to food in the glorious white stuff. Everyone stops for some more food and another round of 'look at me, I was here' photos. Since buying a camera only two days before I am forced to admit it would be nice to finally have some photo evidence of this so I let someone have a snap at me.

The devils staircase continues and it is hard. The incline is sharp, the way is narrow and our guide up front has to carver the way with his axes to we have some decent footholds to follow him.

We finally reach the top of Tongariro and red crater, and my Christ what a sight. We can no longer see where we came from besides our track across the south crater in the snow. Doom is still looming over us, with Ruhapeahu slowly edging into view. But now we have the incredible view of Central crater, not an actual crater

But just a flat bit that looks like one. To the west side the is blue lake, a glimmering mirror nE styles in between peaks, to the east and down two turquoise lakes behind a steam vent where we are stopping for lunch. No snow here due to the heat from the vent and from the sweltering sun. Someone in our group drops his camera case and it begins to roll, and roll, and roll. It goes for atleast 200m down hill, hits the corner gathers some more speed and carries on. Luckily half tour is off down that way soon. I slam my ice axes in the ground and hook my bag onto it.

Our group sneaks off from the rest, being the faster More agile groups of youngsters we are taken the fun way down past the lakes. It's longer and harder but we each relish the challenge and secretly enjoy the special status we have earns ourselves.

We catch up with the last group over the final valley at the edge of the snow. We de-crampons(?) ourselves and get cracking. Unfortunately as we have now mashed together with the last and slowest group we have no choice but to hang about behind or amongst them. The track here is narrow and the drop to the side is in places unforgiving. The old folks and nervous women stumble across rocks and slide nervously on ice patches with mere inches and certain death awaiting them below, as the rest of us hop skip and jump around like mountain goats. The view from this side is as spectacular as the other. Lake Taupo stretches out in the distance behind small ranges, ahead of us directly a valley of bush and scrub much like the Scottish highlands.

After another hour we reach a small cabin, another foods and rest stop. The guides congratulate us and tell us it's only another 6.5km an hour and a half and we can get on with it as soon as we like.a few of us jump up and get cracking. E long and winding road snakes between the scrub and as we slowly ascend it seems the road wwill never end. We are however, confident, surely as with most walking times it's an estimate for the average person ambling along snapping off shots left right and centre at a slitly different angle of the same view. 45 mins later we reach a bench and a sign post, 3.2km to go and 45 mins. Our small band collapses, disheartened, we were really going for it and we're sure to get all the way down within the hour. After a quick smoke we get back on it, this path won't walk it's self. Now we hit jungle/rainforest, a stark contrast to the desolate tundra we crossed a few hours ago. We snake through, the tall canopy blotting out the sky, the sun flashing throu the trees at a rate hi enough to give you a sesure if your not careful. We walk, and walk, and walk, and walk and finally we reach the end of the trail, our bus idling in the car park. We return our borrowed gear and flop onto the bus, I pass out and awaken only once the flashing street list of Taupo reach my weary lives and hour later. I'm shattered beyond belief, my feet our pounding, my legs aching, but I can already taste the sweet amber nectar waiting fro me across the road as I drag myself from the bus.

To the queen

I feel sick. Not because of what I'm about to do, but because of what we did last night. A bizarre memory returns, myself and 2 Germans toasting our very own queen Liz with tequila, repeatedly. My head pounds with the beat of a thousand shot glasses being slammed onto the bar, upturned and void of any trace of alcohol as it now courses it's way through my blood to my brain. I feel strangely calm, I try to read but sleep is needed more. My names is called and I empty my pockets, fags, phone, coins, tickets and other souvenirs from last night. I slip into a sexy blue jumpsuit, just too short in the legs and arms. I step into the harnes and have it buckled around me. It's getting more real by the second, but still no panic, no fear, only wonder. I stand in the sunlight and watch as the previous load returns to earth, their chutes pink and green stand out against the baby blue sky. I meet lottie and she asks if I can take her for a ride today, workplace humour, a joke told to thousands more before me. We head to the plane. Small doesn't cover it, the tv screen on my flight over was bigger. Within seconds we are out on the runway and gaining speed. I feel unsafe to say the least, but I notice a smile beginning to creep across my lips. Lottie nudges forwards and straps on to me, places the oxygen mask over my face. Yes, that's right, oxygen mask. I thought these were only supposed to come out in an emergency. How high were we going??? We reach 13000ft and the door opens, the other two tandems slide out casually, the door slams shut and we begin to climb again. At 165000 ft we slide to the door and I even have to help open the bloody thing this time. New Zealand below, sky above. I dange my legs out the doorway, the mind is icy cold against my pale English skin.I still feel calm. We rock back and forth 3 times then drop...and every cell, atom, molecule in my body screams " you are going to die now", 5 seconds later we are dropping at 200km p/h, the landscape tearing towards us. I can't breathe, the air is forcing its way into my face so fast I can't breathe out. I'm gasping, lottie sticks her thumb up in front of my face and I'm praying for the breath to tell her to go to hell. Infront of us is the Tasman ocean, the white horses crashing across the seemingly endless beach, we begin to spinand Auckland city comes into view, the sky tower poking above it all. My mind has wandered enough and breathing, though still difficult, comes easier and more natural. My ears begin to quite literally scream at me as the pressure tries to equalise. All of a sudden it's over and lottie pulls the rip cord and whoomf, the deafening noise and pounding air like sandpaper both sease, replaced but the gentle flapping of the chute. Now I begin to laugh out loud at how completely and utterly mental the whole thing is. In 75 seconds I had just decended nearly 12000ft and I was now dangling above new Zealand underneath a silk handkerchief. I finally find the joy and look around me in absolute awe. We begin to swing round, lottie steering us to the landing site in the strong wind, every turn we pull 3gs and my balls get squashed in the harness. We get close and closer to the ground. 30ft, 20ft, 10ft, then a gust of wind takes us, we miss the grass and slam ass first onto the runway. E wind catches the chute and we dragg back a few metre S till the ground crew get the tag and realise the chute. Holy fuck, I'm alive. Once I'm changed back to my civi's I stand and have a smoke and look at the sky. It feels like a dream, I can't really imagine I've just done that. My brain just can't handle it and my sanity has gone to hide the broom cupboard. I'm glad I did it, but I think I'll stick to ground asked activities from now on, I much prefer the feel of powder beneath my feet than bugger all.

amazeballs

Ive a half writtenblog from Oz which will post soon, but my ipad batteriesflat.

So down to the wire. Time is running out faster than ussain bolt with a ferret in his troosers. Ive sacked in the Grill, myposition as a glorified glass washer will go to some other unlucky s.o.b. Ive decided to spend the next week doing dangerous things. For a while I was planning on hiring a camper and busting around teh north island seeing some sights and taking photo's, but as I still don't have a camera and I would have to do all the driving myself it hardly seems worth it. And I dont have the $2000 bond for the camper, so that will go on the back burner till Al finally tocuhes down and maybe we pitch in and buy a vehicle for the duration of our trip.
So today i jumped 192 metres from the top of the southern hemisphere's tallest building. With the mother of all harnesses snuggled around my back sack and crack I walzted out onto the platform, bright as a button and to my suprise not all that shakey. I had a small camera strapped to my wrist which has documented my bemusement during the whole experience. I look oddly calm on the edge before the jump, although perhaps a trace of "what in Jebus' holy name am I doing up here' plays across my face as the last checks are completed by the techs. Hanging over the edges, toes inches from the drop, the tech counting down from 3, my only though is 'will I actually have the balls to step off?'. I quickly glance around at the harness and wires connecting my fragile frame the life saving winch, just to confirm that I am indeed attatched and probably won't die, probably....6 seconds and a whole lot of F@*#&%$ing later I hit the ground. I feellike the guy in Steigman's Blown Away picture, hair thrown back in a messof golden locks. I feel exhillerated and I just want to do it again. Then i think,  That was only 400 feet...I can go higher......

Skip anyway

Skip anyway It's been a while, as always. So I'm at 35000 feet, above the Tasman sea on my way to Sydney, and as one is prone to do with ones head amongst the clouds, amongst the gods I finally begin to open my mind again to something a little more extraordinary. To put it quite simply I realised why I havnt written in two weeks. I've had nothing to write about other than the same old generic boozing and boring work related banter. You don't want to hear about which waitress shagged who last night, or who started the war with the kitchen that ended with no dinner for three days and coffee roulette with the tobacco sauce. I have yet to take a single photograph on this journey, for a few simple reasons. Firstly despite all our fantastical modern technology, a 20 megapixel photo simply cannot do justice to the shimmering turquoise, green, lapis, sky and a thousand other kinds of blue sea that I saw one fine day in march on new chums beach. The sun beating down, the luscious green trees swaying in the gentle breeze, the clouds gods breath on a cold morning. My words are yet to do such a sight justice, but I'm getting there. Picture tells a thousand words? Show a thousand people the same photograph they will see the same picture, show them the words describing it and what they imagine in their own minds will be far more wondrous. Secondly, you should bloody well come and see it all for yourself. I'm back in the spirit. I am once again in the air on my way to another country, new people, new places, new faces, new stories. Get born living or get born dying. Bob Dylan To live would be an awfully big adventure J.M.Barry

Catch 22

Two weeks since I last wrote. I could have sworn it was only 6 or seven days. Mostly not interesting, work, drinking, work , drinking. I have been to waiheke island though. Made the mistake of hiring a bicycle. Massive hills. 8 vineyards and one brewery later, bicycle seemed like a better idea. Not in a writing mood much. Havnt been home for 2 days, feel like death. May e tomorrow

Jog on Bieber

Jog on bieber I woke up this morning (2:30pm) with little clue where I was, how I got there. Luckily I had a very interesting list scrawled on the back of my left hand with which to piece together my night. And day: Sailing Morph suit/mariachi Fiddler Scotland vs USA (friends) Drink 4-5 years Pavarotti Under wear -pink and frilly The is one more word at the bottom of the list but most of its rubbed off onto my face after a night sleeping on it, I think I might get a dictaphone. Sailing : after a heavy night out in town I woke up Saturday morning on a sofa in base backpackers from a slap in the face from Niall, and was confronted by a small shaggy looking spaniel who insisted on telling me how good I was at sleeping. Then the rest of me woke up and the short spaniard told me he had saved me from several tea baggings and having cocks drawn on my face. I staggerd out into the sunshine a went straight for the harbour, via a cafe for a full English (which included a sausage that looked suspiciously like a roasted hedgehog) I booked myself on a Trip around Auckland harbour on the NZ Americas cup sail boat. So I spent the afternoon learning how to sail an 80ft boat in the glorious sunshine. Morph suit /mariachi: Walking up queen street, trying to decided where to eat and if another beer will help my situation or put me on dialasys. All of a sudden my shadow tears itself away from me and goes running up the high street. I suddenly realise it is in fact someone in a black morph suit. Head to toe in a black single piece of spandex, this(I can only assume going by her voice and size) teenage kiwi girl begins to moonwalk up the street. I over hear her say "you know, when no one can see your face it just makes you want to dance". At that exact moment a mariachi band busking round the corner strike up, morph screams " sombrero" at the top of her voice and begins to throw some shapes. Fiddler: a small Irish pub, where the beer is cheap, the staff are friendly, and they have a Justin bieber assassination fund collection jar on the bar. I donated generously. Scotland vs USA: my Scottish friend Niall got into an argument with an American outside the pub. No holds bared, he goes right for the 'your whole country is ignorant' argument, while the American rightly assumes Scotland is full of loud angry drunks. I don't know how this argument started but it's finish was fantastic. Niall :"the tv, the telephone, Tarmac, all Scottish inventions. What have have Americans got? Friends..." Drinking 4-5 years: the Grill staff and myself in the fiddler, talking about booze as you do when your full of it. We all work out that with the exception of illness, none of us had had a single day from drink in the last 4-5 years. Oh dear. There is a beer in a pub in Nz, made by Belgium monks, it's so rare and so amazingly good that it costs £101 a bottle. I want some. Pavarotti: I have absolutely no idea why I have that written on my hand. Good singer though Frilly pink underwear: I'll leave that one to your imaginations.

blur

everything is a

Cookie monster

12 days been and gone, some interesting times have passed. Tuesday night I spent out with the globe crew on a pub crawl. Spent a few hours drinking teapots full of cocktails then it was Mermaids strip club till 5 am. Akd despite all warnings you CAN catch the shuttle home from sky city if you are pissed as a ferret. The weekend bought Easter around. Now this was odd. To an englishman and (technically,well maybe historically) a Christian the Easter weekend is and has always been about having a 4 day weekend and getting pissed in e pub at every given oportunity with family and friends. Having worked in the hospo industry for the last 6 years I myself rarely had chance to experience this to the full extent the ever age working joe enjoys it to. My Easter weekends traditionally consisted of 4 back to back double shifts, a perpetual nightmare of 12-15 hour shifts broken up with a heavy night drinking to drown out the nightmarish memories from the day. The kiwi's do it differently. Taking the lead from America, a specifically secular country as defined by e founding fathers, separating church and state has of course led to the country being predominantly Christian despite the heavy Maori influences. Bloody missionaries. Back to the point. At midnight, at the start of Easter Friday every listened premises in new Zealand that is not food led (restaurant, cafe etc) must close its doors for 24 hours. The same again on Easter Sunday. Right, so to celebrate the death and rebirth of the lord Jesus Christ your saviour, you give everybody 4 days off work the celebrate, then close all the pubs. Smart thinking. That's like giving someone the keys to a brandnw Austin Martin db9, and then Breaking both their legs. I don't think Jesus would be very happy with that. I think he would be down the local reservoir trying to turn it into a nice full bodied pino noir. Thankfully the Irish were on the ball, and friday night we got out early as it was so bloody quiet, what with everyone at home praying, and The Fiddler round the corner opened its doors bang on midnight. We all got steaming drunk and Phils girlfriend stole enough cookies from Subway to fill a small van. For e first time in 6 years I enjoyed Easter sunday and Monday off work. And what did I do? I spent all day Sunday inside watching tv, and spent all day Monday in the pub.

Monkey grind

An interesting few days past this week... Started my new job at The Grill restaurant in Auckland, the first fine dining restaurant I have ever worked in. Partly run by Sky city, partly by an apparently famous Aussie chef Sean Connelly. I have to dress like a penguin, shirt, tie, waistcoat and shoes that give me blisters. Unlike all the other bars I've worked in, this is purely dispense bar work. Take a ticket, make a drink, pass it off to the waiters to get the glory. That being said, I made a 5 dollar top for "a stunning margarita", and I have been tipped as making the best old fashioned in Auckland thoug I suspect as the gentleman was 5 old fashioned down I could have given him a rum and coke zero and come out on top. I must confess, I'm already a little bored. The restaurant is quietening down as Easter looms and summer closes. The hardest part of the job is deciphering the acronyms for the 350 different wines. It's is quite nice to be back on the bottom for a bit, no paperwork, no real responsibility. There's another English guy working as a waiter who feels very mucho eh same having recently sacked in a GM job in England for a slice of the quiet life. I think I can stick it out for a few months, the pays not bad and the people are nice enough. I have already managed to break 6 rather expensive wine glasses and skewer myself with one, much to the amusement of the entire staff. O, and I tripped over a blind man, very nearly snapping his white I stick under my giant clown feet. Thought he was a street sweeper. And most unhappily, I am missing the ack.and beer festival due to work. Balls.

Irish gold

Comedy It's been a few days since I've written now. Admittedly, not a lot has happened in the last few days in the grand scheme of things, but enough to make me chuckle at the very least. On Friday I moved into jens house out in mt Wellington. Its beautiful out there, a mere 12 k from the city centre, but it feels like a different world. I have my own room, double bed, and a 40 inch tv and 400 plus DVDs to keep me company. The cats...well two I never see, the third insists on walking between my legs at every given opportunity, andhaving a nibble on my flesh when I'm not looking. Saturday night was great. I met up with Hayz, an old friend from the uk from the good old creative days. We spent a few hours reminising over wine, and once again ended up in the fucking globe. Sunday and Monday mostly consisted of me slumped on the sofa eating and watching tv. A welcome change to my darkened dungeon in base. It was quiet, peaceful, there was sunshine and a window I could look out of! Tuesday- I decide after two days of sweet fa it's time to sort my life out to some degree. I take the train into town-after a mad dash around trying to find a cashpoint so I can buy a ticket on the move- on,y 40 mins and undoubtedly more pleasant than the equivalent London commute from zone 3. I try my very best to get my IRD (nz tax number akin to the Uuk's NI)' but alas my documentation isn't good enough for the nz government and I have to wait fr the arrival of my English driving licence in the post (thanks mum). So I end up in the Darby, not quite the globe, but shares toilets with it so it might as well be. I join Niall for what began as an innocent coffee, but when it turns out they don't have English tea (the Scott nearly threw a chair through the window), we settled on tiger and e drinking began. It was after 12 so acceptable, barely. We are joined by Declan and Owen, two Irish lads from the globe. The conversation quickly turns from Brittany's obesity problem to Jesus and his 5 fishes. W had between us two Catholics, a Protestants and myself, Christian raised but sceptical at best. Oddly enough, if you have ever read The God Delusion but eh infamous Richard Dawkins, there is a paragraph T the beginning of the book stating 'by the time you finish this book if you will not believe in god'. I have paraphrased slightly, but you get the gist. I started that book at the age of 21, after several friends and relatives had passed through both natural and unfortunate circumstances and I had turned my back on God and considered myself an atheist. My work is based predominantly around logic and numbers so science is my religion. Tis book however, had e opposite effect our devious little dawkins intended and infant opened my mind once more to the possibility. I am relieved it was just a mind opening, despite how fantastic the irony old be when presented to sir atheism himself. Anyway, Owen preceded to tell us how he had managed to have a quick shag in the Vatican, twice in fact as they were unsure the first time as to whether they were intact inside the official boundarys of the Vatican. Legend. Also, in true Irish -I don't give a fuck what you think bout me- fashion he regained us with heartwarming stories of his wet dreams and raoe fantasies. I fell off my stool twice. And then had the balls, being a rather over weight man himself, to take the piss out of the the three stick thin spaniels walking by with a pizza each under their care. 'three pizzas for 3 people, that right there is the problem withthe world. Faking dominoes'. God bless the Irish and their complete disregard for discression. Finished off the day with a 500g steak the size of my face at Father Teds, for 15 bucks!!

Rain

I find out this morning most of the North of the north island is flooded, people have no power, dogs and cats everywhere. And ive been moaning for 3 days that i cant walk the 10 yards to the pub without getting my jandles wet.

day 19

An adventureous day today. after spending the previous 5 reading-5 arthur c clarke books, what a legend-i decided to pull my socks up, to a certain degree.

Job trial tonight. Spent 2 hours behind a restaraunt dispense bar. not my usual ground but all thigns considered not bad. My training bartender was an incredibly hot frenchie called Sarah. I knew i had the cocktails and coffe down, but the 350 wines...shit the bed. I did well though. First cocktails were to some regulars, an aussie and a scott. One mojito and one old fashioned, after my trainers insistance that they put me to the test. I get a 10 out of 10 "best old fashioned I have ever had" from the aussie, and a comfortable thumbs up on the mojito. All-brilliantly timed- infront of the Duty manager and my, now, new boss Ed.

So to the Globe to celebrate, after some fantastic Kiwi ales in Gilbraiths. Otter eat your heart out. The night begins with Jelly Wrestling, fantastic, but ot as good as the wet t-shirt last night. Boobs galore whatever though. I do envy Jay the english bar manager somewhat. He spends his days shouting down a mike at beautiful women to get their tops off. Nine times out of ten they listen. Though when speaking to him about it, he shruggs non-challontly (typo i swear). Clearly he loves it, but never tells his parents more than they need to know.

So two weeks and a grand down, Ive got a job and a house. Others travellers seem impressed at my speed in sorting a life here. Ive applied for one job and nailed it, and never even had to look for a house. Luck is on my side this year, I just hope it lasts. I will probably end 6 feet under snow in queenstown this winter. but what a way to go...

New Zealand in general

New Zealand So I figured I had better write something about new Zealand in general, rather than my frivolous forays into bars and beaches around the coast. I have to begin with the kiwisthemselves. On arrival in Auckland I went to see my old friend Jen, a kiwi I met a few years ago working in the globe in London. Now she knew I was going to be coming for a while, but still I wasn't expecting the welcome I received. A I walked into her office, she was chatting withi some customers. I caught her eye, and she started to bounce up and down in her chair, eyes wider than the moon, a look of unbelievable excitement on her face. She hastily cut the awkward goodbye with her customers and almost dived across the desk and leapt, that right she leapt right into my arms and wrapped herself around me like a cat. Certainly that is the best welcome I have ever had, and has set standards for all. Aside from Jen, the kiwi's are a generally friendly bunch. Not so much in e city, as with every where in the world in the city you are expected to stay the fuck out of everyone's way and never dare look them in the eye. The morris are friendly too, but much like the African English population back home they do seem a little wary of us foreigners. And everybody here is either skinny and short ish if white, and rather large if Maori. I guess it's genetic, but Ill be fucked if I could find a pair of trouser less then 34 inches long! my experience in the ASB bank was exceptional. I was recommended that it was the best bank in nz and the one to get an account with. Now I was expecting it to take days, weeks even to sort an account for myself, being a fereng here. Even being a a national back home it takes an extortionate amount of time to do anything money related. I walked into the branch and was greeted by a charming young fellow called dale. With a massive smile and 'Kia oral' he invited me over to his desk and asked if there was anything I could be helped with. 20 mins-I shit you not-later and I had two bank accounts, an eftpos card and pin. Unbelievable. And win 24. Hours I had transferred, painlessly, nine, all my saving from the uk. Ok, so it cost me £25 quid for the transfer, but I need no phone calls or security bollocks to get it done. God bless the 21st century. Outside of Auckland, everyone was even nicer. Every isite (information centres) we hit we were greeted with smiles, and e very one wanted to know how we were. I know wee all moan back home how shite the customer service is, but until you get outside the motherland you don't realise that Uwe are intact a bunch of rude, thoughtless, grumpy bastards. I'll mention the weather briefly at this point, only because the sound of the rain outside the window reminds me of the beach scene at the star of Saving Private Ryan, it's a bloody wares one out there, rain hammering on the roofs like gunfire. The first few days were cloudy, then as I left Auckland for the coramandel peninsular we had 5 glorious days. And I tell you what, you can feel that hole in the ozone. I doused myself in layer pon layere of sun cream, factor 70. I have no doubt without it I would have ended up crispier than Sam Neil in Horizon. Despite my bst efforts I did manage to get burnt on both ankles andthe top of my chest. I screamed like a girl when I got aftershave on that a few days later, much to e delight of the English girls in my dorm room. Still the sympathy vote got me a few Bump and grinds on the dance floor that night. So, the people, the weather...what else. I suppose I had better mention the base backpackers and the globe bar. I vaguely remember this place from my last fleeting visit over 8 years ago.The ACB xbase backpackers I just of queen street above e Westpac bank, opened in 1960 by sir Ian mackellan of all people. God bless gandalf. I remember this place being...I'm not really sure. I was drunk every night I as here last time. But it was just as I remembered. A 10 minute wait in the lobby for a knackered old lift to squah into, taking me up to the wide reception on the 3rd floor. Eplace was rammed as I had arrived around 10am checkout time. (on that, I firmly believe all hostels should adopt a 12am checkout and a later check in, backpackers would fucking love it) a very smiley German took my booking nd went throu the all the grubbing with me. Painless, and for 97 dollars I got 4 nights in. 6 bed dorm on the 10th floor, with a sort of view of queen street and a sliver of harbour thrown in for luck. Comfortable bed, and just big enough for 6 foot 4 me. My prayers on e way up the lifet were answered and I was lucky enough to get a bottom bed. The guy opposite me who arrived a few minutes laters had a top bunk so squeaky it sounded like a mouse farting every time he took a breath. Important advice, doorms without windows may be cheaper, but in that darks and hellishly warm cave hours can pass without you knowing, and its fucking annoying when people come back pissed because they HAVE to turn on the fucking light to get into bed. Showers were great, hot water every day at any time. The rest of the hostel is pleasant enough, a large chill out area round from reception, with a coffee bar where you can gt breakfast for 6 bucks, and a decent coffee for 4. A bank of pcs all with headphones for Skype at 3 bucks an hour. Cheaper for wifi, 8 for 24 hours. A small job centre and the xbase travel shop finish it off. Round the corner is a mahooosive kitchen, full of gas burners and fridges, no ovens sadly, but a microwave for my uncle bens rice later. And now to the Globe. In the bowels of the base is the bar, open from six till three ish every day of the week. Every night there are games, pool comps, poker, drag races etc. fun for all the family. Cheap drinks every night, 7.50 for 2 'pints' of lager. It's starts out quiet, a few mates having an early beer. By 12pm the place is a sex pot of hormones and drunken debaucherous disheveled. Bloody brilliant. The jäger girls are amazing, clearly there in hot pants and boob tubes just to make you spend your cash, but by god they do a damn good job of it. I'm in love with the Lithuanian...and the German...and the English. That place swallows your money like water, and the cheeky bartenders insist its cheaper to pay for 3 jäger bombs, even if you only want two, just so they can have one! Still it's a great nice and everyone is incredibly friendly. As with last time ideas there, the winner stay on rule with pool is the best way to meet some strangers. In fact Niall the Scott I played my first game with I ended up travelling with for a week. The globe is a gem, but it certainly wares you down after a while. Must get out and drink in other bars, there are some fantastic ones in Auckland, cassette 9 and their famous t pot cocktails, the occidental, a great Belgium beer pub. But you are always drawn back to the globe. It's just so easy got stagger to the lift and flop out on to your floor and into bed.

Auckland again

So here I am back in the pissing rain and grey murkey city of auckland. wehey. Made it through the globe bar last night with only 3 pints and bed by 11.30, bloody miracle. Job interview was quick and rather dull. Now have to wait for recruitment to get in touch with HR to get i touch with the restaraunt, and back again, so I can get an hour trial shift. House moving friday, cannot wait to get out of my windowless hole on the 5th floor, its a timeless dungeon of weird sights and smells and creaking beds. More job hunting to do, just incase I can find my dream job online...

Rotarua

My foreign companions still sleeping after a heavy night, I hit the Lava bar opposite the xbase at 10am for a beer and breakfast. Cheers to the Irish for St Patrick and a heavy day one of Guinness and whiskey.

I'm never leaving

I just spent an hour writing is fucking blog and just lost it all, so you can have the cliff notes, I promise in future I will try to be less drunk, hungover, lazy and get it done day(ish) by day. Flight- long, boring, drunk, food gave me the trots for days Hotel- spa unbelievable, kiwi tv is shite New zealanders- hilariously warm and welcoming. Cheers to Jen, Dave and all my new mates Acb xbase backpackers- debaucherous, brilliant Dan and Niall- German, Scottish, animals Auckland- hangover, boats, hills Coromandel peninsular- I wanted to sink into the ground, root my feet and live forever as a tree and part of the scenery Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, it seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come Bill Shakespeare - legend