Groundhog Day

The reason I have not updated my blog in a while is because I thought it would be quite boring and pointless to write an entry based on the boring life I have been living the past couple of months. Even though I use this website to give people at home an accurate and honest account of the life of a backpacker, my life, I just couldn't bring myself to put down in words how monotonous that life has become. Work, sleep, eat, work, sleep, eat....boring boring boring.

So, for material and for the entertainment of you, the reader, I GOT DRUNK!!!!!! Really drunk!!! Call it research.

For almost two months now I have been a well behaved, penny pinching, sober, boring auld fart! It wasn't entirely because I wanted to be, on the sly I quite liked the good health aspect , but it was mostly because the minimum wage in N.Z is shite (excuse the french) and does not cover the cost of living and by no means covers the cost of drinking or having any kind of fun. Focused by the thought of future travels and actually having spending money I was determined to save a few coppers. A strict diet of noodles, pasta, no beer and a healthy dose of no fun left me at the end of last week with the grand total of a few hundred dollars! Between rent, food and other unavoidable expenses I wasn't managing to save more than a hundred dollars or so per week. After another hefty cough up of rent my heart broke, as did my will power and I decided that having the week that was in it( The Police reunion concert in Wellington which I bought tickets for about 3 months ago) I redirected my focus on spending all my weeks wages at once.

Tuesday/ pay day came and I got the new challenge off to a flying start by celebrating my heritage on what I like to call "Murphy's Stout Day". After about 6 or 7 pints of Murphys I wobbled in the door in the wee hours.

The day after, which I just call "Dominiques 21st day" was more than enough reason to go out on a bender and was delighted that my constitution and tolerance level was not as low as I had thought after the crippling drought, as I only again wobbled in the door at 6 am that morning too.
Some people prefer to have a low tolerance level, "it's cheaper to get drunk". I disagree. As an Irish person I am meant to be able to drink much much beer and when I am not up to properly representing my country it always causes trouble, as I will ALWAYS give it my best shot. Some people call this stupid, I say patriotic.

The next day I got an early start with some folke from work as we were all going to the concert. Drunk before the gig...sober during...drunk after. Now that was expensive! And I will admit that to say that I missed the door that morning is probably more accurate but again it was about 6am.

The next day I call " unplanned car crash". This is the final installment of this interesting chapter of my life in Wellington. It is always the nights that one says " aw, just the 1 tonight lads" are the nights that one looks back and cringes at the memory or in my case, is still looking for the memory. This also may cause cringing. I think it was either the fact that I had probably replaced 50% of my body water levels with booze at this stage (Friday) or that I had myself fooled that I was always just having "the one", even though I was actually on "the 8th" which led to the nights un lady like activities. I don't mean "activities", nothing ridiculous but lets just say I took my Irish responsibilities to the extreme, maybe even the unnecessary extreme and could say that I completed missed the door that night. And by door I mean neighbourhood.

But don't worry! I am not a complete right off and have seen the error of my ways. The last two hungover days have been filled with drunk persons remorse and I dreaded coming into work today to find out who had been struck by my foot in mouth comments that night and now never wanted to talk to me again. I have it on good authority that I was a Muppet that night and have paid my price through inner turmoil ( and heartburn). Thankfully my friends have been more forgiving that my conscience and are happy to shake off my behaviour with an "ah, whatever dude, you were drunk" passing comment.

So after the expensive (financially and physically) week of research I have concluded that drinking is GREAT and I LOVE IT!!!!.........but perhaps it should not be done all at once, even for the sake of journalism.

I will yet again now go back to my boring, groundhog day life of saving money, only eating carbs and not drinking anything! Well, I will drink water but I was referring to actual drinking, naturally.

Sobriety, here I come.... Tomorrow.

"I'm dreaming of a ...wet, dark, cold Christmas"

I'm not really longing to be home in the damp, dark Irish weather that everyone in Ireland keeps reminding me of but at the same time there is definitely a piece of magic missing from Christmas this year and my only theory is that the strange December sun has dried it all up. One would think "ooh, a sunny Christmas, how exotic". Not really! Not in Wellington anyway, even though it is very warm with bright clear skies today, the last week has been wet, warm, cloudy and generally uncomfortable. I had myself believing that the rain was a comforting reminder of home but I don't remember December to be so...sticky. I do hope that the 25th is sunny and HOT and not so flippin confusing! If I am going to be in the southern hemisphere for probably my favourite time of year I would rather do it right and instead of a getting a toothbrush in my stocking, get sun burnt! Thank you.
I am working Christmas eve. For some reason I volunteered to take someone else's shift, don't ask me why, I think it's the humidity making my nerve endings fire causing me to say stupid things without my control or permission. I should finish at about 8 or 9 pm though which isn't so bad.
The packages that Mum sent me are tidily sat underneath our anti tidy Christmas tree. Unfortunately our unfortunate tree isn't the most balanced and will only stand up if its anorexic side is facing the us, the unfortunate public. Our housemate donated the decorations, "girls, it'll be beautiful, they aren't at all tacky.." hmm... Would you like some cheese with your Christmas tree? Apparently yes, yes we would...lots.
I am half very excited and half terrified of what I will find in my two packages from Cobh. I have been told that there are photos of home and many packets of the requested Taytos to look forward to. But there is also legend of an unknown evil wrapped within the innocently disguised brown paper. Every single time I ring home Mum warns me of the nightmarish form the requested box of Barry's tea has taken. "Everyone said that if you are sending things over sea to get them vacuum packed" she explained. As ever mother instantly regretted her actions and reluctantly wrapped the awkward rock of combined opaque paper and tea leaves. I fear the giant solid mass of black leaves and stained paper will put me off tea, even Barry's tea FOREVER!!!! The film could be called Nightmare on Christmas morning!
I expect that I will have to take Christmas this year with a spoonful of sugar or maybe even a shot glass of whiskey. I don't know how it will be. I have no doubt that it will be strange but pleasant none the less. Hold on, strange is right! There is 3 Santa's playing drums and a guitar singing Silent night in the back of a moving pick up in the middle of a busy city street as I write this. Whatever blows your skirt up I suppose.
I think the thing is that it won't actually seem like Christmas at all, to be honest that may be my saving grace. Merry Christmas to ye all at home! Have a good one and enjoy the lousy weather for me!
Nollaig Shona!!!!! Steph xxx

p.s. There they go again. Imagine "Let it snow", rock n' roll style. Again... strange.

So what becomes of a tripod when it loses a leg?

I am very sorry to write that the trio that is myself, Sarah and Dianne has lost it's bubbliest musketeer.
Dianne received the sad news today that her dear Grandma had passed away early this morning. Without a moments hesitation she decided that she needed to go home to Canada. After hours of holding at the end of the phone and scanning the Internet for cheap flights we drove her on her final trip in W.I.C. to Wellington airport. It was a heartbreaking farewell. It was only as she went out of sight through the departure gate doors that I realised that it could have been any of us going home prematurely because of reasons out of our control. The possibility that I would have to go home early because of reasons other than me running out of money is certainly something that I thought about before leaving and something that we have all discussed here. Honestly if something was to happen that would force me to consider returning early I couldn't have predicted what I would do in such an unfortunate situation...until today. Seeing Dianne in that predicament it was hard not to imagine myself in her shoes and I realised that I would probably do exactly the same thing. If not just for my own piece if mind, then for the comfort of others. It's not nice thought but its one that must be considered when you are so far away from family and friends.
I will miss Dianne hugely and I regret that we parted on such sad terms.

Going back to life in slow motion.

It's only now that I've begun to settle down in Wellington that I realise how relatively fast I was going over the last two months. Even though the last eight weeks travelling were by no means strenuous or particularly high paced, looking back now except for a day here or there, none of it was boring. However, now that I've put the brakes on , I feel that life is going to reacquaint me with my old friend boredom any day now.
I hadn't much or in fact any choice about settling down for a few months. The pot of money has run dry and it was this or go home. As miserable as this sounds I didn't exactly have to be dragged from the van, kicking and screaming with the road map gripped in my white knuckled hands. I am actually quite happy to just live somewhere for a while. To have somewhere to call home for a bit, to empty the bain of my life, a.k.a. my rucksack. I've never had so much joy in hanging up my clothes before, and then quickly tearing them down again and hiding the carpet with them. Now it really feels like home. It'll be nice to get to know a place, find a local....cinema! I'm not an alco people! I've also heard that the local sailing clubs are looking for crew. Maybe a bit of Wednesday night racing? You never know. Some things will however never ever change wherever I go in the world. I still HATE work! I hate the thought of work, I hate actually doing work, I even hate leaving work because the second you do you start thinking about work the next day. I am starting to wonder how in the world I am going to do it for the rest of my life?! So, on my travels around the north island I had lost count of all the "Molly Malones" Irish pubs there were littered around the place. One time I ventured into one and was unsure about which country they were trying to imitate. It could have been Argentina!!!! Really genuine. I quickly developed a loathing for franchise Irish pubs. A real patriotic loathing!....I am now a proud member of staff at the original "Molly Malones" in Wellington. "Well, hey there bonny lass, how are ya today?! Top o' the mornin to ya! Li di diddilly li di...."Please shoot me!!!" Unfortunately beggars can't be choosers and I need employment. It's not that bad, it's quite a nice bar and restaurant actually. The only thing is that about 70% of the staff there are Irish and I was getting quite used to being the only Irish person around. After all one loud, rude, cocky, alcoholic Irish person is enough for anyone to put up with, even if it is myself. Wow, being around my own crowd again made me realise that I had forgotten what rubbish we can speak sometimes! Well, we'll see how the job goes.
I'm house sharing a sweet place across the road from the beach. It's about a 10 minute drive from town but knowing that the sea is so close, just outside my window makes the commute worth while. It's my first home away from home, hopefully I won't miss the real thing this 25th too much.

On the road again....

Wo hoo!!! I am the proud owner of a third of a van. After leaving Paihia and the bay of Islands, myself and my friends headed back down to the big shmoke in search of the dream van. It didn't take long to realise that cars, even absolutely rubbish cars can be pretty pricey around here at this time of year. Apparently had we been looking during the winter time we could pick up a car for over half the price that people charge for one come Summer time. So with our tails between our legs and broken hearts the horrible thought of travelling around in a bus started to enter my head and I could have cried. From the day I started thinking about coming to New Zealand I had always envisioned myself seeing the country from behind the wheel of a wee camper van. I am absolutely landed that that has happened now. I still can't believe it to be honest. We ended up coming back up to Paihia to buy a van that Dianne had heard about. What a steal! Only $500! It is a rust bucket and one probably couldn't give the thing away at home, but for here, the land of the bangers, a place that makes the cars on Cape Clear look posh, it's a relatively good price and one that we were happy to pay.
We were a sight today, scrubbing and hoovering every inch of it. We started with such eagerness but of course this quickly wore off. However some parts of the former plumbers work van will have to settle for being permanently covered with a blanket or stuffed with tissue and never looked at again. eg. the patch of carpet by the door absolutely caked in dirt, or the many holes home to even more spiders and various creatures. It all adds character. Or so we keep telling ourselves. No, seriously it isn't the nightmare I'm making it out to be. After the cleaning earlier it looks a damn sight better. The fun is in the driving though. I know many of you posh people at home won't remember or may never even have experienced it before but having absolutely zero power steering makes for an interesting trip. Wo, you have to be strong. I tell you now, I'll have some guns at the end of this tour. I feel like we should devise some system for the tricky corners in which we each have a rope to pull just cause some bends are too much for one human. It's all good fun.
So, we went to the N.Z. version of Lidl today to pick up some basics, including dirt cheap sleeping bags, fleecy blankets, curtains and of course the all important spray paint!! Don't worry, much thought will be put into the designs for the exterior of our new home and each country will be properly represented. Needless to say, the shamrock will feature many times, along with other flora and signs of peace, after all what is the point of having a van if it isn't spreading the message of love.....? And spreading the smell of another certain flower (just kidding folkes). We will stay one more night in The Bay and move on tomorrow. We're gonna treat ourselves to a final night of hostel luxury and dive head first into the probably very smelly, often uncomfortable but wonderfully liberating world of campervaners tomorrow. We will head to Cape Reinge, the tip top of the country, and on the way take a few wrong turns, meander down a few intriguing looking dirt roads and definitely get lost a few times, just because we can.

I'm so excited. Please check out my photos of the last few days in Auckland. You can access them through a link here on my blog now. I will put up pics of the van soon. Bye for now.

The luck of the Irish....

Hello home, here's a thought....

I never really understood or believed in the phrase "the luck of the Irish" because I thought I wasn't an exceptionally lucky person. I'm not talking about having ones health luck or having a normal, pleasant childhood luck. I mean silver spoon luck. Always winning raffles and picking up the huge bingo jackpot on that one annual excursion to the Goleen community hall. I can still remember that one girl in primary school who always won the Easter egg or over sized teddy in the raffle at the end of each term. Every year, the same old thing, never giving anyone else a chance. Always that one girl, Ashling. Lucky cow. Then I'd hear that phrase again..."the luck of the Irish.." A bit general really eh? I mean I know a couple of "lucky" people but certainly not a nation of them, not 4 million of them. Not even that relatively small group of Irish rugby men have been very lucky recently, rather bloody unfortunate actually. And where did the saying originate from? Maybe it started flying around during those 800 years of slavery and persecution. Yeah, sometimes you just have to thank your lucky stars, don't you?....right....bullshit.

That's what I used to think when I thought of that phrase. Now, being an Irish person in a very foreign land I think I've figured out what it really means. In New Zealand, a country full of tourists, kiwi's seem to have it programmed into their heads to ask everyone where they have come from, whether they want to or not. "Where are you from?....Canada?...oh lovely.....Germany?..that's interesting.....England?...hmmm.... IRELAND??? I love Ireland? What part are you from? I love your accent. I'm part Irish you know, my grandfathers grandfathers, cousin once removed was from there....." They actually light up and are mad to talk to a genuine article. Their eyes dancing to the rhythm of my Cork tune. I've actually been picked up off my feet when I told someone (not a mental patient) that I was Irish. I love it. And these memories give me strength when someone mistakes me for an English person, or says"but I thought Ireland is part of the U.K..." Breath.

I know that it is simply a figure of speech, not to be taken literally, but I like to think now maybe there is something to it. When you can travel to the other side of the world and being Irish allows you to feel as welcome and as at home as you do in your own country then you have to feel pretty damn lucky....

Now if we could just win some rugby matches then I'll surely burst with good auld country pride.

So, the plans have changed......again.

Yeah, so we've done the Russell thing and we're going slightly grey from the boredom and randomness. I came to New Zealand for the awe inspiring scenery and extreme fun, not for the yawn inspiring wee local tourist towns. The weekend was very busy but from our side of the bar it wasn't exactly fun. We tried to make up for our lousy weekend shift by going out two nights ago, but unfortunately a lot of the boats had left and had apparently left the weirdo's after them. Another random night in Russell.
To my shock and dismay, New Zealand yachties do in fact JUST drink rum and coke. What are ye? women?....have a beer!!!! I think it's definitely an elitist thing though...ooh I drink rum, I'm a sailor, ooh. Also, they are actually animals. Smashing tables etc. I have a new found tolerance for the people who shop in my beloved Matthews. They're just rude. At least they know how to have a proper drink and not make a fricken show of themselves. That said the boats did look fantastic and I do hope to get out sailing soon.
Before we hit the road I do want to make the most of the good weather and beautiful scenery here, so the plan for our 2nd day off tomorrow is to pick up a disposable bbq and head to the stunning white sands of Long Beach about a 15 minute walk from here. As for tonight we're gonna live it up in Paihia, the life and soul of The Bay of Islands. We are gonna try something new though just to mix it up a little. We're gonna try out this thing called a "budget"??? I'm being unbelievably the opposite of tight...which would be loose I guess. I'm Eddie Hobb's wet dream. Sorry for the vulgarity but I think that sums up my fiduciary problems best. So penny pinching to the extreme from now on.
So that's about it for now. Hopefully when I check in again we'll be our way to get a car and do some proper exploring (getting very lost). I'll write again soon. I'm trying to upload some photos. There's not many, well not many relative to the amount of photos I have taken. I'm just going to put up enough for you all to get a taste of life out here. As you would imagine the main star of most of these pictures is my friend, Mr. Beer. Bye for now, Steph.x