A happy-go-lucky English rambler dude goes to New Zealand for a year. Here he interfaces with some of those he left behind and details his nefarious activities. Or summat.
Recently clicked on MP3s - 7th June 2005 The Lucksmiths - Warmer Corners
Jens Lekman - When i said i wanted to be your dog
The Trashcan Sinatras - Weightlifting
Teenage Fanclub - Man Made
Laura Veirs - Carbon Glacier
The Decemberists - Picaresque
The Eels - Blinking Lights
And a belated Happy New Year, from New Plymouth, in New Zealand!
[I was in New Plymouth when i wrote this on paper, but i'm actually now in Wellington. Only saying that would ruin the clever 'New' thing i had going on there wouldn't it?]
I'm currently staying with an old mate from my last visit to NZ, Keith, who at the moment is busy training for both a half marathon and a 150k road bike race, as well as his usual Cross Country Mountain bike league races.
This is a fairly standard level of activity for the average New Zealander, but as i've been away from NZ for a little while now my standards have slipped somewhat (No disrespect to the Tyndale Road Running Club, or the Formation Software Cycling Team). The past few weeks spent lolling around on Pacific islands, eating Pineapples and drinking vast quantities of cheap Chilean plonk haven't really helped either.
Keith immediately recognised this state of affairs, and has now enrolled me into, "The Keith Webb School of Fitness". In the past week i've been on three hour long training runs, a swimming session (Well more arse-ing around in the sea than actual swimming) and two mountain biking sessions.
One of these was in Rotorua, on the site of next years world mountain biking championships, which i negotiated with reasonable style (only wimping out on about half of the gnarly descents). The other ride was through the pleasant, fern covered parks and riverside trails near to Keith's house. Sounds innocuous enough, but after a while i got a bit cocky, and during a high speed descent of a grassy slope, a ditch appeared from nowhere and swallowed up my front wheel, catapulting me over the handlebars. At least i think that's what happened, as it's all a bit of a blur. All i'm sure of is that i hurt my head and arse during the crash, and that the sight of me flying off a ridiculously small, ladies' commuting cycle probably looked quite impressive.
Keith doing some proper off roading, after some dubious directions from a local
The Xmas & New Year period wasn't entirely devoid of excercise and activity, but the pace of life on Pacific Islands, particularly Easter Island, is fairly slow, so it seemed only polite to join in with it.
The best aspect of this for me, was their attitude towards timekeeping. The time for all arrangements was pre-fixed with 'about' - breakfast, island tours and even our lift to the airport - although even catching planes on Easter Island is a very laid back process. When leaving, you check in, and then wander off into town for dinner and a pre-flight vino tinto, and when you hear the plane fly overhead, saunter back to the airport, along with 90% of the islands inhabitants, who seem to greet every arriving flight. (It's too hot for anything faster than wandering or sauntering)
I could write for hours about Easter Island (Wait! Don't turn off your PC yet, there's a but coming), but as i've already written about 20 postcards about the place, i'm starting to run out of adjectives for it. The best description i've come up with for it, is that it's like 'Father Ted', but set in the Pacific.
You could find all the bizarre characters you could ever need there, e.g. the taxi driver who points at various bits of sea, and does the Jaws theme to indicate where he's seen sharks. Or the worlds most pro Pinochet bicycle hirer, who on discovering i was English asked, "Ah! You are Eeenglish! Tell me, what do you think about Margaret Thatcher?".
I also ended up in the faintly surreal scenario of watching Oasis 'Live at Maine Road' and Steve O dvds, on one of the world's most remote and mystical islands. Leading to a debate on who was better out of Oasis and The Verve and drunken Liam Gallagher impressions, with the hapless, constantly stoned Hostel owner and his mates.
Suffice to say i fell in love with the place (Oh yeah, the statues and that weren't bad either) and it's people, and was loathed to have to leave it, to go to the much rainier, much more expensive, much grumpier and much more French, Tahiti. Being there at Xmas made it all the more special, and the crowd at the hostel really clubbed together to make it a special time - i'm now friends with a Dutch speed skater and a Mexican feminist author, beat that! (I bet they're bragging to their friends about knowing an English computer programmer too)
5 restored Moai
Right, i think this email is now more than long enough to try anyone's attention span, and more importantly, my download of the last Beta Band album has now finished, so i'll be off.
I think the time has come to stop spamming people with my travelling emails, so if you want to keep up to date with my exploits in New Zealand, and soon Australia, go to www.tedster.blogspot.com and you'll hear all about the quality of the vegetarian cafes i've been visiting, what i've been listening to on my mp3 player and, er, the weather.
Please feel free to keep writing tho, as believe it or not, i do desperately want to hear what's going on in Leicester etc, although please leave out the details on the Tsunami and Leicester City Football Club, as i'll only get depressed.
