Zelma’s Trip

So I had previously decided that I was able to collect the van that my parents had organised the day prior to their arrival.  No problem there you might think….well that´s what I thought.  I went to bed nice and early the previous night only to wake up at around eleven o´clock – pesky late jet-lag!  Checkout was officially eleven at my Residencial so I did what any decent person would, snuck around getting ready and managed to dodge the owner and get out the front door whilst she was cleaning! 

 The next ordeal was finding the train station.  My amazing lack of Spanish extended to station so I tried saying Station with various endings like, o, er, ez, etc.  Well obviously I didn´t say etc as an ending, that was meant in its normal term.  I also tried to tell the taxi driver I was going to Talca.  This made him first look confused, then excited as he thought he was getting the fare from heaven.  When I protested as I saw his eyes light up he gave up and I waited for a second taxi.  With the assistance of actions and comedy chugging noises with Talca uttered imbetween, I managed to convince the second taxi driver of my correct location.  Having arrived at the station it was marginally easier to but a ticket and get on the right train.

Once on the train I was surprised how comfortable and clean it was.  Not that I was necessarily expecting some kind of hole on wheels but it was very reasonable, six or eight quid for a three hour journey.  The only problem was that I was still very tired and, somewhat unsurprisingly given my previous form, I had someone behind me who thought that my chair was a strangely shaped football.  This time the kicker took child form and, along with kicking the sh·t out of my back every three seconds, also seemed to like squealing in a high pitched voice while yanking the blind up and down so that it crashed against my arm.  I spent the majority of the journey drifting towards sleep prior to being rudely awakened by the aforementioned behvaiour and then considering whether it was a criminal offence to strangle a small child in Chile.  At one point an old man, who had been looking at the small child, got up from his seat and began to wander over.  You can imagine my delight as I thought that the little brat was finally going to get the telling off that its mother seemed so reticent to give it.  My glee quickly faded as it soon became apparent that the old man was spawned from the same strange non-Earthly being sect as the small child and had actually come over to make stupid noises and condone the child´s ridiculous behaviour.

Eventually the torment ended and I arrived in Talca.  When I got off the train I went and had a cigarette and looked for the piece of paper which had the details of the rental company on it.  I had just about enough time to get the taxi to the place prior to it closing at five at this stage.  Well that was if I knew where the place was but, having been distracted by the moronic, mutant midget, I had somehow managed to misplace the said bit of paper on the train.  And, yes, I am blaming the small child for this one!  So, having no clue as to where I was going, I decided to try and find an internet cafe to get the details from an email from my parents.  When I asked people they gave me directions faster than you can say, well directions horrendously quickly in Spanish, and I wondered around, hot, heavily loaded and getting more and more concerned that I wouldn´t be able to collect the van and that my parents would be stranded at the airport.  Eventually I found an internet place and printed the details.  When I went to pay it turned out that the owner was discussing his life history and the Philosophy and times of Wittgenstein with a comrade, or something equally lenghty and tedious, and I tried to make, “hurry up, can´t you see I´m in a hurry”, type noises.  Eventually he did but I then managed to throw all my money on the floor.  When I say all my money, I mean all my coins which amounted to about 0.0000000003 pence, or something, and everyone decided it was the most important thing in the World that I didn´t leave the shop without every miniscule amount.  Eventually I managed to escape, loaded down with shrapnel, and got in a taxi.  Unfortunately the torture wasn´t over as it transcribed that my printed out address only contained a name and a postcode.  The taxi driver then beckoned a friend over so that they could um and argh about it for a good ten minutes before deciding that it might be a good idea to call the phone number to actually get the address.

Finally, having suffered back injuries, and several heart attacks, I arrived at the place where “Trekker Chile” was located.  It was officially after the time that they were supposed to close but they seemed far less bothered than I was.  Having located a guy staying in the neighbouring hostel to act as a translator, the guy went through the van details and inventory with me.  It was a 4 x 4 Toyota Hilux with a very funky sleeping cabin attachment thing at the back.  The vehicle was equipped with absolutely everything you needed to eat and sleep etc plus all the necessary equipment for an emergency.  Having showed me every minute detail, almost down to the spark plugs, I signed the paperwork, got in the van and drove off.

The hire company was in the back and beyond down a gravel track so I wasn´t overly concerned that the van felt lumpy.  Then, when I got onto the motorway, it didn´t improve.  I told myself that I was being stupid for some time prior to stopping for food at a service station.  I got the amazingly vegetarian, hot dog option.  Although at least it was Chilean as it was smothered in Palta (Avocado).  Wow, did you see that?  A whole Chilean word, that´s your lot though you understand.  Just don´t go expecting any more.  Anyway, so my belly´s full and I head off again.  The lumpiness didn´t subside and I decided that I really needed to get it checked out.  So I turned around and headed back.  I thought that I may struggle to relocate the place and I was right.  After getting lost and being given directions prior to getting lost again, I stopped at another service station to ask another person.  Fortunately Chileans are a friendly lot and this bloke really sweetly offered to show me the way, which was by no means a short drive, and practically dropped me off outside the company doors.  Once back at the place I pulled over and the van did what I can only describe as a huge wee, i.e. it emptied its guts of water out of its side.  I wandered around the premises and found a hostel at the rear.  Fortunately this was where the translator guy was staying and, after a few phone calls, the mechanic arrived.  He took a look at the water and said that it was the overflow prior to checking the van over.  He then took me on a test drive where the van appeared to wobble less.  We conceded that it may have been knocked into 4 x 4 or something.  Well I convinced myself that something like this had happened and I think they thought I was a silly female driver!  After the kerfuffle (anyone know how to spell that one?  Nope me neither) I set off again.  As soon as I got to the motorway it felt all wobbly again but I decided it wasn´t life threatening and carried on.

I arrived in Santiago late at around elevenish I think.  I thought it would be a good idea to locate the airport so that I could get there easily to pick my parents up the following morning.  I think I drove round the airport ring road thing about five times but I got there eventually.  Unfortunately, as I didn´t want to pay for any of the airport parking, I managed to drive round two of the restricted zones at the airport.  Fortunately I was able to do my, “I´m sorry I can´t help it I´m a stupid English girl”, look at the bemused guards so that they didn´t call for back up or shoot me. 

Having located the airport secure areas I headed back out of the airport, had to pay a toll for the privilige and spent the night in the van at a service station car park.

Hooray, it´s not Tuesday 14th October any more! 

I got up, missed breakfast, whenever it was, and went out to check my emails.  I looked at more cameras before putting my memory card in to be zapped to a D.V.D.  Wow, that sounded really technical didn´t it.  A bit like my grandmother´s response when asked what kind of motorbike a relative had purchased when she replied, “I think it´s a Super Nintendo or something”.  Anyway, I faffed round town for a while whilst they were apparently burning my D.V.D and went back and bought a new camera from the aforementioned department store.  It was, fortunately, slightly less confusing on this visit.  Other than for one small detail actually, and that´s that the young assistant was still touching his nose and this time I was sure mine was sparkling clean, I even checked prior to walking in the store!  Anyway, so I head back to the place where the incompetent guy was burning my D.V.D only to be informed that it apparently takes more than three quarters of an hour.  I decided that the best way to fill the time was by getting a manicure so headed off. 

Having had a lovely, cheap French manicure and collected my D.V.D I pottered around the city.  I went back to the Parisian place where the artists gathered and watched a kind of changing of the guard type thing at the Palace.  All the roads around the palace were closed and there were an insane number of guards stamping their legs on the floor and changing their guns from hand to hand which I always think must come in immensely useful at times of trouble or conflict.  I managed to order a nice vegetarian pizza for lunch which pleased me.  I was also pleased at my lack of Spanish knowledge as several blokes made comments as I walked passed.  Sometimes ignorance really is bliss!

Okay, so the more astute amongst you may be wondering why I´ve got yet another entry on my blog entitled “Tuesday 14th October”.  Before I got my flight, and was checking my ticket, I was most confused that it showed me arriving in Santiago before I left Auckland.  I have since asked people onboard my flight, and my parents, who confirmed that this is actually correct due to time differences.  With my amazingly non-scientific brain I then started thinking that I could just fly around the World forever and never age or die and, I don´t know, eat a lot of rubbish food and watch a lot of very dull films whilst getting pounded in the back by the annoying passengers behind me and developing D.V.T.  Apparently, as I have once again been reliably informed, this would not work.  Well other than the crap food, films, pummelling and D.V.T. bits of course. 

Anyway, so it´s around three in the afternoon or something, on Tuesday 14th October (again, and I´m not any younger unfortunately) and I´ve got through customs at Santiago airport.  When I got out of the airport I was quickly approached by a very helpful man who said that he could give me a lift anywhere free of charge prior to sending me on a wild goose chase to an internet terminal that didn´t exist.  Luckily I had borrowed the Australian couple´s ´Lonely Planet´ on the plane and scribbled a few “Residenciales” (or to people like me B and B, guesthouse type places) down in my pad.  Another helpful man approached me and called one of the numbers on my list up so that I could reserve a room.  I informed him that I wanted to get a minibus, thinking that I would be sharing it with other people and thus splitting the cost.  He got the first bit but seemed to not get (or not want to get) the second bit.  So, I´m sat in a minibus, by myself, well actually with the driver, waiting for a couple of his mates who were apparently blagging lifts into the centre at my expense.  By this point I couldn´t really be bothered to argue or try to renegotiate, and besides, they let me smoke in the van!  So, we set off, me and three Chilean dudes who start to chat to me while their mate does his best impression of the worst kind of driving I experienced in Asia but with the added problems of the rest of the drivers seemingly wanting to obey road signs and the like and also him having a few road rage type incidents out of the window.  One of the driver´s friends asked me if I spoke Spanish and when I replied that I didn´t he said, “Ah, impossible in Chile with no Spanish!”, which was, erm, reassuring.  The whole way to the centre the guys were repeating, “Paris Londres”, which was on the bit of paper I had shown them.  I wouldn´t have minded but it was almost like they were trying to convince themselves they knew where it was.  All the while I could hear their mutterings I was trying to figure out which side of the road you were actually -meant- to drive on in Chile as the driver was certainly not making it clear.  As I realised it was the right I scolded myself for landing in a country with absolutely no basic knowledge of it or its language. 

When we got to the centre it transpired that the repetition of, “Paris Londres”, the whole way to town hadn´t worked, or it had, but that´s not where my guesthouse was.  After traipsing round several hotels with me in tow, one of the guys was finally told that he was in the wrong area of town.  By this point the minibus had gone, presumably to tell more English people that they wouldn´t cope, so another taxi was called.  At this point I started to feel slightly better at having accepted a slightly over-inflated price for my ride into town.

I eventually got to my guesthouse, and, despite having spoken to someone on the phone who spoke in fluent English, the female proprieter spoke none.  So I stand in reception for a while answering, “one”, to her question of, “Nombre?”, as I think that she´s asking me how many nights I want to stay, before realising that she´s actually asking what my name is.  I manage to make out that there´s a free breakfast at some point, I´m guessing in the morning, and that checkout is at 11AM.  Admittedly I managed to figure out the latter by looking at a sign on the wall which read, “checkout time 11AM”, rather than by using my instantly acquired Spanish skills!  I´m eventually shown to my room which has dated decor but is simple, quaint and I like it.  The property was like a large house with rooms around a central courtyard area and, if you can cope with the lack of English, I would recommend it:  Santiago Centro, Paris Londres (although don´t pay too much attention to that bit – the importnat bit is next) Residencia Tabita, ph 671-5700, Principale de Gales 81.

After checking in I found out, with comedy actions, that there was a launderette and internet cafe just down the road so went and put my clothes in, checked emails and then wandered into the centre.  My guesthouse was about a five to ten minute walk from the main shopping area which was great.  Both the distance and the shopping area itself actually.  I looked around at a few camera places which all appeared to have similar models to my, broken, camera but slightly worse and older.  I went into one large department type store where I had a silly conversation with some staff who spoke no English.  The only things which made sense to me were that firstly they had my camera and that secondly the guy who kept touching his nose was doing a cross-cultural sign which I later discovered was a, “you may really want to blow your nose” gesture!

I decided to ponder the camera decision and, eventually, via the palace and half of the city, found a restaurant on the way back to my guesthouse.  I got completely confused by the menu and was despairing slightly as I was now very tired.  Helpfully, or not, the waiter beckoned a guy over from the corner who translated the menu into a kind of English, German mix.  Unfortunately my German is only slightly better than my non-existent Spanish.  After a while I managed to convince them that I didn´t want half a dead cow on my plate and ended up with a rather nice potato and tomato salad with a cold Coke.  Having filled my belly I headed back to my guesthouse where I slept horrendously soundly.

People

The people are very friendly and erm, helpful.  Well, they think they are but do things like give you completely inane directions because they want to talk to you and couldn´t possibly consider telling you that they don´t know or can´t help you.  The Maori people also seemed to be a very friendly bunch.  There is of course one exception to the nice people thing, infact there are probably a few, but enough has been noted on that already.  Actually, whilst I´m on the subject here´s the anonymised Court result for anyone who´s interested:

“… has been convicted and ordered to pay court costs of $130.00. He has been ordered
to pay you reparation of $40.00 and has been placed on a good behaviour
bond for 12 months.”

Although it´s good that he got convicted it says something that Lance was charged more by the New Zealand government for failing to Stop at a Stop sign than Paul was for attacking me…oh well….!

Generally in New Zealand I found that the males of the species were less brash and “in yer face” than their Australian counterparts.  One way that the people seem to differ little is in their liking a good time.

Food

The food, as in Australia, is invariably very good and fresh in new Zealand.  Akin to Australia it seemed hard to eat healthily on a budget though.  As in Australia, no-one in New Zealand actually drinks Fosters, describing it as “r&ts´ piss” and the like – don´t believe the ads!

North vs South Island

Like many places, there is a divide between the North and South of New Zealand, a fact which is perhaps reinforced due to the two being on separate land masses.  On North island the locals will tell you that South islanders are a bit slow (often in stronger terms) and locals in South island will tell you how much better it is and how there is no point visiting North island.  Infact, a lot of travelers I met shared the latter view.  Although South island is absolutely stunning, I had a huge amount of time for the North island with it´s beautiful beaches, goethermal sites and hotter weather.

Highlights

One of the main highlights for me in New Zealand was simply the scenery.  Driving around a country which goes from beaches to snow-capped mountains so quickly was out of this World.  The drive down the coast of South island passed Kaikoura was truly amazing.  Places like Wanaka were also stunning with its huge lake and mountains behind.  Unfortunately Wanaka was probably one of the low-lights of New Zealand for me due to the events that happened there but that´s not the places´ fault and I would highly recommend it.  On the North Island I liked Wellington for its arty, cafe atmosphere and the nightlife.  In the North West ninety mile beach and, in the North East, the Bay of Islands were both spectacular.  Sand surfing was a great thing to do, although don´t take your camera!!!

So I´m finally on the plane, leaving another continent and continuing on my travels towards South America.  The seat directly next to me was vacant and to the left of that were two Australians who were embarking on the start of a year in South America. 

The flight itself was fine until later on when there was crazy turbulence with hail storms.  As it got really bad, the film I was watching hit a climax where the World was about to explode, or something, and I managed to completely wind myself up.  The majority of the plane seemed to be asleep at this point, other than the occasional passenger who got up from their seat to head to the toilet prior to a flight attendant literally sprinting down the corridor and thrusting them back into their seat whilst shouting and pointing at the fasten seatbelts lights which were on.  I think Qantas staff might still be on high alert after the plane which managed to drop a long way in the air and give several of its passengers back injuries.  Needless to say, the rather mad response from the in-flight staff did little to still my nerves.  Other than the people who were now sharing my discomfort but for other reasons, i.e. they had been forbidden from emptying their bladders, the only person who seemed to be awake was the guy behind me who seemed to have translated his console command of “touch-screen” as “beat the hell out of as hard as you can” screen.  Now, when I´m on planes, trains, automobiles and the like I am invariably sat infront of the person with tourette legs and arms so which bright spark decided that putting touchscreen sets in the back of my headrest was a good idea??!?

Other than running up and down the aisles and pushing people back into seats the staff also managed to speak almost no English which I thought boded really well for my time in South America when all I could say was, “Ola”.  Although I must say that I am also able to do a very good, “please let me off I´m an ignorant foreigner”, smile!

After a few hours of heart attacks and being pummelled by the moron sat behind me, we began our descent.  Any nerves I had quickly faded as I looked out of the window and could see bright blue skies and snow-capped mountains.

We left the campground in the morning and headed slowly towards Auckland.  En route we stopped at a huge gemstone place where I was very restrained in buying only presents and a couple of polished stones.  In the same town (I can´t remember the name) we went to some water gardens which were lovely and quirky.  There were birds to feed which were grateful in the extreme to the extent of being almost worrying.  Amongst the various waterfowl, pigeons and other birds were white peacocks which I hadn´t ever seen before.

We stopped for lunch in an area just outside Auckland and then headed to the airport.  I went through the first customs area and waved Goodbye to Lance.  Having wandered aound a few shops, I headed for my obligatory final pre-flight cigarette.  As I was in the smoking area there was a final call for my flight which was somewhat odd as Lance had got me to the airport two hours in advance.  I rushed to the gate, where there was still a queue of people checking onto the plane so I sat down and listened to my I-pod.  When I got up to go onto the plane, the woman who checked my ticket sighed loudly which confused me slightly.  I think they may have been doing that whole loading the plane in order thing, that or they had put out call outs for me which I had ignored!

We headed into Hahei town and I was pleased to finally buy some earrings.  I´d been earringless since leaving a bag full of them in Sydney, well other than the pair I broke in Asia and have been carrying round ever since in the vain hope that someone can fix them that is.

Having sorted out my jewellery situation we drove to Thames where we ate prior to heading to the butterfly house.  The place was amazing with thousands of butterflies from around the World.  Amongst my favourites were the luminous blue butterflies and a crazily bright green and black butterfly.  As well as native butterflies, apparently a lot of the butterflies are imported from other places, such as South America, in their chrysalis phases.

After the butterfly house we headed to “Water World” which was basically a park with various water-based nodels and activities on offer.  The place was great if very zany.  I managed to break my nail in a giant hamster wheel and also to completely soak Lance with a water cannon.  My boat, “007” also beat his (I forget the name, it was probably doofus or something) rather convincingly, although he claimed I cheated.  The place had a cafe attached and I tried some amazing ice cream with flavours like hokey-pokey which I have no idea why you can´t get in England.  It was this awesome ice-cream with honey-cone pieces.  We also got a rocky road which I haven´t seen in England.  It´s basically a chocolate type bar with marshmallows in This one had a biscuit base and a layer of raspberry jam in though.  Mmmmmm….well I had done my sit-ups, honest gov!

We headed to Whitianga and then on the most amazing coastal road up from Thames.  There were thousands of nesting birds.  Not being a twitcher, I´m afraid that I´m unable to elaborate here.  They were cool though and there were lots of them.  Ooooh how profound!

So we left Tauranga and the lovely eccentric landlady in her flat-cap and headed towards Hahei.  En route we stopped in Waihi, which was a bit more pleasant earlier in the day than the previous day, and I bought a red and white polka dot scarf to match my shoes!

We headed to “hot water beach” which is renowned as a place where you can dig your own spa pool on the beach.  Apparently there are two hot springs which feed the beach two hours either side of low tide.  Evidently we weren´t there at the right time as, having dug a big hole (admittedly I didn´t do much digging), all that was apparent was cold water.  The beach was quite nice anyway though.  After a little walk we headed for a campground which I had actually phoned and booked, shock horror!

Having checked in, we walked down to the beach, which was stunning, and then pottered into town.  We drove to Whitianga but I was disappointed about the lack of pub quizzes on offer so we headed for Coromandel.  The area we were in is called the Coromandel penninsular and as we headed to Coromandel town I realised why people had raved about the area.  The penninsular is truly spectacular with jagged edges, beautiful coastal views and hills and mountains galore.  On the way to Coromandel there was the most amazing sunset with beautiful colours lighting up both the sea and the mountains. 

When we arrived in Coromandel it was around eight o´clock and I was somewhat surprised to see several casualties being led away from the pub.  This didn´t deter us and we went in to be greeted by a live band.  Unfortunately the band were just finishing and the highlight then became the fishing channel.  There was a group of blokes reeling in a Marlin (which is huge, like a large shark) and then, as I complained that it was too big and writhing round in pain, suddenly it was only half the fish on the line.  Apparently not only had it been struggling with a giant hook in its mouth for hours on end, but it had then been chomped in half by a shark.  That Marlin must have done something seriously bad to earn that kind of fate!  Other than the unlucky half Marlin there was also an extremely coarse woman for entertainment who seemed to like shouting at people, young children, the television and other inanimate objects in the pub.  After the one drink we headed back to the campground.

In the morning we headed to Whangarei falls.  Although it was relatively pretty I was slightly at a loss as to why every guidebook I had read had raved about and recommended the place.  Needless to say we didn´t hang around for too long, instead opting for a McDonalds´ on the way to Auckland.  When we arrived in Auckalnd I wasn´t overly enamoured with the place…..can you see a theme developing here?  Seriously though the place just felt, well, a little soulless to be honest.  Lance agreed so it wasn´t just my hangover making me hate the World!  So we carried on South and went through several equally non-exciting places such as Athenree, Waihi Beach and Waihi. 

We arrived in Mount Maunganui at around nine at night.  I went up to a backpackers´ place and was greeted by perhaps the rudest woman in the World.  She had a mouthful of food and, despite my question, she replied with, “we close at eight thirty”.  Even a complete stranger passing by remarked how helpful she was.  So, unperturbed we headed to another backpackers´, this time in Tauranga which we were informed was full.  Eventually, having driven round for some time, we found a motel in town.  When we rang the doorbell we were greeted by a Kiwi who wanted to be an English eccentric more than any English person I´ve ever met.  She was kind of cool actually and had the flat cap, fur around her neck and the classic car to match.  She seemed to think Lance was up to no good which made me laugh and surreptitiously sneaked him two bottles (one of Sangria and one of beer) which apparently were for, “later”!  After we had sorted our things out a car with a young couple pulled up and she turned them away.  I couldn´t help wondering why as we hardly looked like classy clientelle and there were two units free when we arrived.

We left Ahipara and headed towards the Bay of Islands.  Lance set off in the wrong direction so I helpfully directed him back across to the main coastal road cross country style.  The map showed the road in a somewhat more favourable light than it actually was and, due to loose gravel, we had to drive rather slowly.  It didn’t really matter though as the scenery was beautiful and it was absolutely deserted.  That is apart from the cows who seemed to think that it was much more fun to stand on gravel than stand and eat grass which I’m sure is what they’re technically supposed to do.   The Bay of Islands was stunning and we had a fabulous lunch overlooking the sea.

After the Bay of Islands we headed to Kawakawa to see a toilet designed by Hundertwasser (An Austrian architect who fell in love with the town).  Visiting a toilet may sound a bit odd, well actually it doesn’t at all if you want to use it, but it may sound odd in order to admire it.  Basically I did both!  The place was pretty amazing with brightly coloured tiles and glass.

As we got closer to Whangarei we pulled up to some lights and Lance’s car omitted a rather ominous sound a little like a large elastic band being twanged.  This was absolutely hilarious (or so we thought), until the twang turned into a rather more sinister graunchy sound later on.  Once in the town I went to a camera shop where a woman helpfully squirted air into my camera and fiddled with the lens, which I’m sure resulted in all the sand being pushed into its innards, prior to telling me that the closest place able to fix a Kodak camera was infact in Australia!  Lance took his car into the garage and we got a lift to a holiday park on the outskirts of the city centre.

We decided to walk into town and went to a Sports bar.  When I asked for a drink I was somewhat bemused when I was told that they didn’t have any white wine and completely put out when I was then told that they didn’t have any tonic.  Rather than saying what I wanted to along the lines of, “What kind of place is this?” I ordered a gin and soda.  Having finished my gin and soda, humph, we headed to a bar just down the road, rather amusingly called, “Danger Danger”.  When we sat down I was slightly perturbed to see a rather large bull’s head on the wall which moved from side to side and which also twitched its ears.  We played ice-hockey (I won obviously), danced (well I did and got annoyed at Lance for not doing so enough – apparently his jandels a.k.a. flip-flops in normal countries were sticking to the floor) and drank some more before calling it a night.  There were some interesting characters at the bar including enough candidates for, “What not to wear”, to keep the show going well into the next millenium.  There was also a most (un)amusing American  with terrible chat up lines , a guy with a tattoo which simply read, “Cowboy”and a -very-tall man.