Jan 28: Small towns, big rooms, buskers, penguins, and haunted hostels.

Ok, we've got a lot to cover today.

We arrived in Christchurch and mostly just crashed. It was windy, cold, rainy, and there were no buskers. And once again, nowhere good to eat or grab a beer. Most of the day was spent bookshop hopping and once we destroyed the umbrella the hotel had given us, we shuddered back inside. Matt and I figured we would just leave the next day when the weather reports seemed to promise much of the same. Mat called downstairs to see what tomorrow would looks like. 

"He says it's 'turning better,'" Matt said once he got off the phone. "But he didn't say what that means."

But while the day started out soggy, by midday it was New Zealand gorgeous, with a bright blue sky and warm i the sun and just right for a jacket in the shade. And the buskers had come out, and a lot of good acts seemed to be playing later that night. So we decided to stick it out for another night in the greater Christchurch area, really commit this time to finding a good place to eat and grab a beer and head out the next day. 

Finding a place:

The hostels in Christchurch were all packed, so we were worried we would be boned out of finding a place to stay for the night. Unwilling to go back to the hotel (because that's cheating and expensive) we found a place about 17 k's away from the city, in a little harbor town called Lyttleton, known around the world for it's Timeball. And while we never got a proper description of what a Timeball is, we learned that it sets every day at 1:00 p.m.

The place we found, Tunnelvision Backpackers, was attached to a small gourmet food store and cafe, so we had not only the best night, but the best food. Glorious.

Carnies:

The buskers were out and about. The first guy we saw swallowed swards and looked like an underfed version of Chris Angel. Two American's did a cool juggling act where the man walked a tightrope across his wife's open legs and juggled knives. a little intense, considering he was also wearing a chicken suit. Third lady we say had a hilarious communist schtick, and berated her volunteers the entire time while singing "I did it my way."

He found our hostel, then came back, figuring we'd see the stand-ups at seven, but then were told that part of the festival was in a different city, about 15 minutes away. "Fuckin' a," we said, then got some dinenr and tried to figure out if we felt like driving that far. We did, and when we got there the doors had already closed and we had to talk our way in, telling the lady all sorts of things: "We really want to be here, but we got lost, and we came to Christchurch all the way from america, and we didn't know it was out of town..." and eventually she let us in for a twenty. Hilarious show, good times for all, so glad we went.

Driving to Dunedin:

We stopped in a small town that I think is called Orahua but is known for it's penguins. We learned that the further south you go, the older the island is; this is the part of New Zealand that was settled by the Scottish, because the mountains an the ocean reminded them of home. Also, they couldn't push their way north, where land is a little more stable and easy to roam, because the Maori (pronounced "mowry" with a rolled r, thanks Dad) wouldn't let them. 

Much like Christchurch, the town of Orahua was just as unwelcoming. Spooky, gloomy, wet, and rainy. But we got some amazing dinner that sustained us until morning when we had it again for breakfast. The place we stayed in was an old hotel from 1860's, and was even more fun to stay in than Lyttleton. The guy was super helpful, and the next day directed us to a cool place to stay in outside of Dunedin, the Asylum Lodge. 

"Wonder why it's called 'Asylum,'" we asked ourselves eventually. We settled ourselves thinking it called that becuase the place must be a safe haven, a bit of a pastoral, restorative hideaway. 

The Asylum Lodge:

After driving past it once and going about 20 k's out of the way, we find our way up this beautiful driveway and through a large swing gate. This is already way different than any place we've stayed, being totally in the country. We drive past six or seven beautiful chestnut horses and two huge white buildings. one is filled with old cars, ford falcons, and thunderbirds and volkswagon vans. Another is just empty, but it looks like a large, vacant stable. We drive up next to a next of little chicks and a hen and a rooster. 

"This is pretty," we say. 

We check inside, and have to leave our shoes at the door. We get a tour of the place, which is big, roomy, bright and spacious. There's a full-sized palm tree that's taken over the living room, the walls are a bright cheery yellow, and our room has a chest of drawers. I swoon, because I miss drawers. There's surfing for $10 in the morning. 

"Awesome!" we say. 

We decide to drive two girls into town, two nice enough American girls who've finsihed with their stay and were moving on. As we're driving to the gate, one of them turns around and says "Hey! THERE'S the morgue!"

"The what?" we ask. 

"That's the old morgue the owners told us about, where they used to put the patients," one of them said. "Didn't they tell you what this place used to be?"

"...No."

"THAT'S why it's called The Asylum Lodge," she said. 

"...Oh."

"...You guys want to check it out?" one asked. "We totally don't have to if you're in a hurry--"

No, we say, it would be interesting, we're up for it, and it's the last day these girls are in town, and exploring it could be kind of...fun? Whatever, we're game. 

We walk inside, and it succeeds in creeping the shit out of us. Happy to leave, we drive into Dunedin and drop the girls off. 

Dunedin:

...Is very, very pretty. There's an old town square, called the Pentagon, because it's not shaped like a square. Got 8 sides, you see. Anyways, it's quite gorgeous, because on one end is an old, gorgeous cathedral, and on the other is the oldest train station in New Zealand, both of which look like gingerbread house. We eat at a tapas bar which easily has the best food we've eaten in NZ. Service was a tad slow, so three and a half hours later we roll back.

Some Haunted Tomfoolery:

we roll back to the Asylum Lodge at 12:30, unaware of any curfew. Once we arrive at the gate, we see a huge padlock. We swear softly once, and then wonder what to do. Matt turns to me and says "I think it's pretty clear what we do."

"Sleep in the car?"

"No, we got to jump the fence."

Matt decides to go over the fence and try to find someone who's awake that will unlock the gate so that we can pull the car up. I check the clock and tell myself that if he doesn't come back in twenty minutes...I'll think of something. I don't have my phone, so I can't call anyone, I just have to think of something.

Lucky for me, he comes back with a flashlight. No one's up, but he's found a light, and we'll just have to jump and walk. 

"Whatever you do, don't look in the windows."

So I look in the windows.

Pretty spooky. 

We survive, make it into the room, and fall asleep. 

Queenstown:

So now, we're here, in Queenstown, adventure capital of the world. Matt's dad decided to be very, very nice to us and we're staying a Crown Plaza suite. It's quite a switch, and it's a little weird to be in the lap of luxury in the craziest city in the world trying to get a little R&R. Spent most of today getting errends done, paying the first of God knows how many tuition fees will wind up paying, hope it's not much, and possibly doing some more laundry. 

Super exciting!

Much love to you guys, and I'll talk to you later. 

Ems.