(11/07/01)
Arriving in New Zealand last Sunday, the first thing we saw as we stepped into the airport was a bunch of seriously worried-looking brass monkeys. Its very, very cold. Southern New Zealand is the only country I have come across where sub-zero temperatures necessitates hand-dryers to be fixed above urinals in outdoor conveniences. Temperature dictated that we increase our layers of clothing, but Budget countered with a financial arguement, and so we settled on shopping in the $2 shop. A dark hat and white wooly gloves a piece, in addition to already numerous layers of clothing, we present a ghastly cross between Marcelle Marceux and the Michelin Man. Or some overweight Michael Jackson groupies. Either way, the picture is not a flattering one as taste has taken a back seat to physical necessities.
Clothes u like
After two days in Christchurch, we discovered the place to be is Queenstown, 500km south on the outskirts of Fiordland National Reserve, where we arrived yesterday after a seven hour bum-numbing bus journey. Today saw us back on a bus headed into Fiordland where we've just spent an incredible day. In travelling from toe-to-tip of the mountain ranges you pan from Tarzan land to Yeti country within the space of twenty minutes. The fiord and valley floors are covered with antartic rainforest that to the untrained eye appears tropical (an eye that hasn't been dragged through five botanical gardens in as many weeks).
Milford Fiord
"Milford Fiord"A mere four thousand feet up and the scenery is a blanket of white, the only greenery amongst which is a fat, skipping parrot known as a kai, who with no natural predator, is content to fearlessly stroll up and down between ranks of gibbering tourists on the off chance of a free snack. We headed out for a boat ride in the misnamed ''Milton Sound'' (it is really a fiord) where the views I can only describe as ''awesome'' in both English and American usages of the word.
Milton sound
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