Update on the bacon sandwich. Also, hot springs. Also, Abel Tasman. Also, eventually, not in this post, but later - whales!

So, I clarified the bacon sandwich situation with some Kiwis, as this had been praying upon my mind. Apparently they do exist here, but they are not to be bought! Not for ready money. They are purely a home made thing. You just can't get them in the shops. 

So now we know. 

I suppose it's nice to see that Capitalism hasn't conquered New Zealand yet, though slightly disappointing that bacon sandwiches should be the manifestation of this worthy politico-economic stand.

***

So, Tim and I went on holiday together after our joint nights which were, as ever, very, very pleasant. I finished off my chapters on Neuroanatomy (painful, though it did include the sentence 'the cerebellum is very fashionable in neuroscience', which brought back memories of my highly fashionable third year.) And we both developed a streaming cold, which we drowned in the thermal waters of Hanmer Springs, just North of Christchurch; specifically, the sulphur section. 

This is me, looking fresh faced and clean the morning after my facial, which I had with Tim (!) - yes, we had a facial together, and very welcome it was too on a rainy, grey autumn afternoon. I know you may have trouble believing it rains in New Zealand, but it does. I've just carefully removed any evidence of it in my photos so far. 

Tim: (afterwards) "Um. Was it meant to burn?"

Me: "No!"

Tim: "I know she said to say if anything was painful but I wasn't sure whether I should mention it really....anyway it was all very nice."

Anyway, it's fine, Tim's face is still mostly on and we had a good time in the hot pools afterwards, especially on the Superbowl - 

- an amazing contraption you ride down on an inflatable ring designed for either 1 or 2 people, where you spin around like a centrifuge and then drop down what I think of as a plughole down the middle, forwards, backwards, any way you like. It was brilliant. We went on it 4 times. 

Hanmer was a top start to our Top of the South Island holiday. It's about 2 hours north of Christchurch, and a very sleepy little town, centred around the thermal springs. In the morning, after a good splash about till we were warm up to the marrow, we set off for the very top of North Island, Abel Tasman National Park. We were staying with some friends that night in a little cottage with a hedge maze, up a 'very long driveway - don't give up', as per the instructions - part of which included a plank over a river ('if the river floods it is impassable, so park your car on the other side and get out while you still can.') Luckily the river was not in flood, though we got lost in the driveway itself and managed to drive straight into a neighbour's garden. They very patiently directed us out again (our friends, it turned out later, had made exactly the same mistake.) 

It's a confusing place, the New Zealand countryside.

Along the way, we stopped in Buller Gorge and crossed the longest swing bridge in New Zealand, and zipped back on the flying fox, or zipwire. 

The scenery was incredible, and the swing bridge was just the right amount of slightly wobbly to provide interest but not overwhelming terror. Looking down, I realised again how little I wanted to bungy jump.  

Buller Gorge was affected by the Murchison earthquake in 1929 and you can see some of the faultlines where the earth moved upwards 4.5m instantaneously at the time of the quake, creating some of the sheer drops down to the water. It was an incredible reminder of just how volcanic this young country we had come to was.

Also, a great chance to play on a zipwire (again.)

At least we didn't have to get into a wetsuit.

***

The next day, we went kayaking in Abel Tasman.

Note below Sen etc are wearing wetsuits.

I refused on principle! Principle!

We got dragged to the beach on the back of an enormous tractor - Abel Tasman has one of the greatest tidal ranges in New Zealand - over 5 metres - and when the tide's out, the boats are all beached as - when the tide's in, it's impassable. The tractor navigated the intermediate stage for us.

Another spectacular view. It's hard to believe this is the equivalent of the end of November back in the UK - it was sunny as, and all the birds were singing. In the words of Callum, our very cheery guide, 'it's almost brochure weather!'

Almost, Callum? What kind of insane standards have you got? 

We pootled around the islands, heard a good deal of very beautiful birdsong, saw some very sleepy seals, heard Callum's story, "well, I visited up here one day, and I thought, hey, this is a pretty nice place to live, so I didn't go back. I mean I literally didn't go back. I was on holiday, so I just phoned and quit my job, and then I did a tourism degree, and now I'm here, kayaking every day on this sea and enjoying all this sunshine."

Us: "We're applying for jobs in Nelson next year."

Callum: "Well why the hell wouldn't you?"

Well, quite, Callum. Indeed. 

***

After the kayak, we pulled up on Watering Cove, one of many bays visited by an exploring Frenchman who got quite friendly with the local Maoris ("He was a great explorer...but kind of a shitty husband. Anyway, he named a load of islands after his wife to make it up to her" - quote Callum's rendition of history). There we had the most wholesome lunch ever at a little picnic table on the sand. Then, Tim and I said goodbye to the kayakers and popped up the coastal path for a 3hr 45 minute walk back to base camp. I know it was 3hrs and 45 minutes because we timed it, and boy, by the time we got back, we were achey. 

It was beautiful though. That much is certain.

Look! Kayakers (that tiny white smudge) in the sea!

And after our day out, we went back, ate about our bodyweight in pasta, and fell asleep by 8:30pm - a recurring theme of my travels thus far.

But as I say, at least I wasn't in a wetsuit. 

Thank god for that.

***

And the next day, we set off to Blenheim.

We deviated at this point from our friends, who were driving down to the Glaciers - a 7 hour drive (holy mother) in a desperate attempt to see all of New Zealand before they leave (that was their first mistake - leaving). They also had two people visiting from the UK who were also, true to form, desperate to see as much of New Zealand as possible, and were slightly dismissive of our love for the Marlb sav rounds. "Can't you do wine tasting in the UK?" said one.

Us: "Can you?"

Them: "Well...maybe."

Really? We had this in the UK?

Well, I am astounded with astoundishment.

I love this photo - the sheep having a bit of a graze in the foreground. Vines in the middle. And the mountains at the back. New Zealand in a photo sandwich.

Just as delicious as Wairau River sauvignon blanc, which was mind-blowingly good. All the Marlborough Savs are really. In the words of Margaret, O&G clinic nurse - "I visited Australia once. As soon as I got on the Air New Zealand plane I had to have a glass of sav. It's coming home."

Well done, Margaret. Someone hand that woman a glass of the good stuff.

We stopped at Wairau first to have lunch, because we were starving (surprising, given the amount of pasta we ate the night before, but then my ability to be always hungry has surprised many. It's an ability that just keeps on giving) - and a staggeringly good lunch it was too - and to have plenty of their very delicious wine. We then toddled on to the Vines village, where Tim studied their philosophy:

...and where we ate fudge and ice cream and lazed about in the sun, and drank champagne with 'a tiny bead' (snigger) which was very, very delicious. The champagne makers had called themselves the Number 1 Family Estate - a good name if you want to set up an estate, I guess - because of 'Numerology'. Gosh. That's some complicated stuff there, working out that Number 1 is considered a good number when comparing wineries. I shouldn't wonder they used graphs and everything.

And then we went on to Framingham, and met a UK woman who had moved here 7 years ago "oh, came here on holiday you see, and, um, never left. Just bought a vineyard. I suppose everyone's allowed to do something crazy in your life."

There's a theme developing here.

****

Buckets of Riesling later, we finally dragged ourselves away to the Doctors for a last tasting before having a well earned rest (since we'd been working so hard all day, drinking so much wine and eating so much food, poor, poor us, someone's got to do it etc) before dinner. In the interests of New Zealand culturey, I persuaded Tim to watch The Piano, which I enjoyed very much. I'm not sure Tim did. I note that the main character moves to Nelson in the end. Well, as Callum might say, why the hell wouldn't she? Her main mistake was in not going there in the first place, to my way of thinking.

Dinner was very delicious, though we were sat next to an unbearable Australian man who spent the whole time bothering the waiter. Oh, Aussies (sorry, he has tarred all of you with his massive dickhead brush.) Thanks heavens we didn't apply there (though who knows if we would have got a job? We hear it's pretty hard to find a place there these days, with the number of disillusioned Brits coming through.)

And the next day, we, inevitably, made our way to Nelson.

***

To be continued!