Lions, Highlanders &
Rainbow Trout Sandwiches
Sitting behind the reception desk in the newly built Sports Centre in Wanaka, it was Sunday afternoon and there were a total of 4 people in the whole building.
There was me, my co-worker Alice, a friendly ‘tell it how it is’ Aussie lady in her late forties with short, dyed red hair, and 2 guys playing basketball on the indoor court for a free play session, £5 an adult £2 a child.
Idly twiddling my thumbs with absolutely nothing to do, I plucked up conversation about the rugby game coming up.
“Are you going to watch the Lions, Highlanders game in Dunedin Alice?”
“Nah not a big fan of rugby eh. What about you?”
“I’d love to go but I can’t find anyone to go with.”
Skip ahead to the end of the week, and it’s me and Alice working together again.
I tell her:
“Hey I booked to go to the rugby. Didn’t find anyone to go with, but hey, I don’t mind going by myself. Can’t really miss seeing the Lions play New Zealand. It’s gunna be epic.”
She asked when it is and I said it’s next Saturday and she said:
“Oh… I’m going over to Dunedin that day to see my sister… I could take you if you want?”
“No way! I said, my eyes lighting up, “that would be perfect thank you!!!
So we organised that she’d pick me up from the Sports Centre at 1pm.
Meanwhile, I was looking at the hostels for that Saturday night in Dunedin and every single one of them was sold out…
“Hmmmmmmm…” I wondered, “what can I do then?
Ting! Lightbulb moment.
“I’ll join the Dunedin house sharing/flat mates page and post in there that I’m looking for a place to crash just for that one night.”
So that’s what I did:
and I didn’t have to wait long for the responses to come flying in!
Amazingly I had 5 responses over the next day offering me accommodation. Some people were taking the piss saying they’d want like $70 for their bed while others were more hospitable.
A lady called Steph sent me a promising message back:
I was so happy to see the room and she looked and sounded like a nice girl so I offered her $50, thinking that a room in a cheap hostel is at least $30 so for my own private room I would pay around that.
She messaged back and said she was happy, so just like that, I’d got myself my own room to come back to after the game!! Sweet As!! (as the Kiwi slang goes)
So things were falling into place nicely and on the Saturday of the game, I went across the road to the Sports Centre for 1pm ready for my lift with Alice. However, Alice was not showing up.
20minutes past, she’s not there, 30minutes past and still no sign of her. I’m calling her while pacing up and down reception looking out the front entrance, and she didn’t answer. I was beginning to think she’d forgotten about me…
Then down the entrance drive she comes and pulls up, at the much later time of 1:40. Though I’m very relieved she finally arrived, the other thing that concerned me was that I had to be at the ticket office to retrieve my ticket before it closed, and the ticket office closed at 5:30pm.
I’d also agreed to stop by Steph’s place to meet her, drop my bag and pick up the house key before the game. I knew from google maps that the journey to Dunedin took 3 and a half hours. That meant I’d be cutting it very fine to pick up the ticket in time… and without that ticket, I’d be going all that way for nothing.
Half way through the journey with Alice I realised I wasn’t going to be able to see Steph before the game… So I had to text her, tell her the situation, then ask if it were OK that I go to the game and see her afterwards. She said:
“Yeah no worries, I’ll leave a key out for you.”
… Wow… that’s so trusting of her!!”, I said aloud to Alice as I read the message, “I love that”.
Because of that she made my life a whole lot easier. Steph also gave me instructions where to find the house and where she would leave the key. She sounded lovely, I felt I could really rely on her and this in turn settled any nerves I had about my bed for the night.
Approaching the outskirts of Dunedin, the time was now 5pm so it seemed I would be OK getting to the ticket office before 5:30. However, suddenly Alice pulls over into a parking space along the road.
“Whats going on Alice?” I asked, confused.
“I just need to buy some food for the doggo.” she said.
“… Really right now?! There’s not much time before..”
“Ah it’s all good, won’t take a minute”, and with that, she was out the door and walking over to the pet shop, apparently in desperate need of dog food…
“C’mon Alice what are you doing?! Hurry Up!!” I shout to myself in her car.
Time ticks on until 5:10 and I see her come out of the shop with a huge sack in her hands and I run out and help her with it. She was quite strong even though she was only small and slim, but she was swamped by the massive bag so I thought she could use some assistance.
I hurriedly chuck it in the car and get back in the passenger seat trying to egg on Alice to go go go!
We went only a little way further down the road when I cringed with the view of a line of cars stopped in front of us.
“Oh shit…traffic.” I said nervously.
It made sense when I thought how many people would be going to this rugby game that evening. We all know how New Zealanders love their rugby, and for good reason, they’re bloody good at it.
But if I didn’t get to the ticket office within 15minutes, I wouldn’t be joining them for it.
Creeping forward inch by inch, Alice tries to reassure me that we’re almost there.
10minutes to go…
Alice knew Dunedin quite well so she was explaining to me where I had to go but because we weren’t there yet I couldn’t picture it so I was not feeling confident.
A few minutes later Alice saw a place to pull over and she said:
“OK Giles I’m gunna drop you here love, keep walking down this road and you’ll be in the octagon, go round to the right and it’s one of the buildings along the side”
“Thanks Alice have a good weekend with your sister.”
And with that quick fairewell, I grabbed my backpack, got out of the car, and darted off in the direction Alice had pointed. I dare to take another look at my watch and the big hand has reached the 5…
5minutes to go…
At the end of the road I’d come into an open space, which I supposed was what she’d called the octagon, and I turned right following the buildings facing inwards around the edge.
“Ticket office… ticket office… ticket office” I mutter to myself as I dash around the octagon eyes focusing on any signs to tell me where it was.
With no sign of a sign saying Ticket Office, I had to look at which building looked most like one. The Regent theatre seemed more promising, so I ran inside.
I see a few people lined up in front of a kiosk and YES! They looked like rugby fans. I asked them if this was where I collect the tickets…
“It sure is bro” was the reply from the huge Mauri bloke.
YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!
As the time hit 5:30pm, I waited for the guys in front of me to have their tickets printed, before I stepped up to do the same.
I was going to watch Lions vs Highlanders!!!!!!
The game kicked off at 7:30 so I had time then to go for some food, so I had a walk around the streets just off from the octagon and found a nice little Japanese restaurant.
I ordered some food from the menu that I had no idea what it would come out like, but was pleasantly surprised. I also thought I’d ordered one thing but 3 dishes came out!!
I was definitely ready for the big game now and with the shouts of: “Liiiiiiiiioooooooons, Liiiiiiiiiiiiooooooooooons”, coming from outside and with it a distinctive blast of bagpipes, it was time to join my fellow Englishman and Britons on their proud march through the town and on towards Forsyth Barr Stadium.
A bagpiper rousing the British and Irish supporters on the road to the stadium.
Don’t ask me why but there was a Chinese Dragon bobbing and weaving around as the crowd of supporters cheered onwards until we came upon the entrance to the stadium.
Finding the right entrance for the seat I had allocated, I made my way around to Gate F and up the stairs looking for Row MM and finally the aisle and seat number…
And here was the view from my seat:
The atmosphere was awesome!!
Before the game started their was a traditional Maori ceremony of some sort which you can just about make out in the video below:
A bit of a ceremonial warriors dance from some Maori blokes in loin cloths handling their big sticks (I wouldn’t be caught saying that to them though). Following this the two teams came jogging out onto either side of the field and the New Zealanders positioned themselves for their infamous Haka.
The atmosphere rose as the Highlanders began the Haka and everyone watched with building excitement as these huge men in black shouted and stamped and clapped with such intensity and ferocity the power from them seemed to expand to be felt throughout the whole stadium. The energy and engagement from the fans was electric and overwhelming.
For this moment alone I could not have been happier to have experienced a Haka in New Zealand, and on top of that, it was England they were playing against. It didn’t get better than this.
The Lions had the kick off to start the game and the crowd, with me along with them, roared with delight. The first 10minutes were looking very promising for England with a couple of well worked plays and winning some useful penalties.
Now I have to admit, even after watching so many rugby games in my life, mostly the 6 Nations and Worldcup, I still don’t really know the ins and outs of the rules and technicalities of rugby, but to my untrained eye, the England Lions were playing better than the Highlanders, and by half time it was 22-13 to England. It looked to me like England were going to win it!!
Time for a beer. I left my seat making my way through the fans who also had the same idea as me and stepped down the stair case and along the corridor until I was back outside where the stalls were set up for selling bucket loads of alcohol.
Thankfully I’d made it to the stall before the line was too massive so it didn’t take long to reach the front and purchase a pint.
(Fun Fact! It’s not really a pint in NZ like it is in England. New Zealanders as well as the Aussies converted to the metric system, so their pint is around 470mls whereas the British imperial pint is 568mls. Good to know for any British people about to go out there for the first time, expecting a pint as they know it but receiving a smaller one and feeling short changed 😉 )
So I bought an NZ pint… for each hand. Returning to my seat, happily swigging on my beer taking in the occasion, it wasn’t long before the second half kicked off and it was back to the action.
The Lions team seemed to have lost a bit of their earlier libido and weren’t so dynamic as in the first half but it stayed a tight game. However, in the last 15-20minutes the Highlanders took their chance and exploited the Lions lack of cohesion by scoring a converted try and shortly afterwards, a penalty kick, putting them ahead by 1 point!!
The whistle blew for full time and the 80minutes was up…
Shiiiit!! We lost 🙁
An anticlimax for me but hey it was an exciting game, a fantastic experience to be there and I was very glad I’d come.
After the game I walked out from the stadium along with the hoards of rugby fans and returned into town coming back to the octagon. I walked past a Turkish takeaway then decided I’d have a wrap, to wrap up my evening (if you’ll pardon the pun).
While I was up at the counter of the Turkish restaurant ordering, a conversation sparked between myself and a French girl stood also waiting in line to order. She had shoulder length brown hair, dark eyes, maybe 5″6, 5″7 and a big cheeky smile. She was wearing a thick coat and scarf and this was well planned by her because the temperature outside was fast becoming bitterly cold.
In her light French accent with very fluent English she explained she too had come from the rugby game and was there with a few other friends: 2 English guys and an Aussie lass.
The French girl named Eloise offered for me to sit and eat with them in the restaurant and while the wraps, kebabs, chips and baklavas (I never knew what they were, some kinda sweet pastry) were being consumed, we became acquainted.
Stewart was tall and slim with short ginger hair and a face of small features and many freckles. Ollie was also tall with dark eyes and eye brows but dyed blonde hair underneath a stylish woolen hat, a stubborn boyish pout playing over his face. Sam with her long golden curly locks had pleasant features, her demeanor and dress were more hippy style giving off a spiritual kind of persona.
They’d all been to watch the game and had come from Queenstown. They knew each other through work and they worked for a very fancy 5 Star resort, Eichardts Private Hotel, on the water front.
They invited me to come out with them for a few drinks, have a bit of a party, and as my only plan was to go and find where I was staying that night, I gladly joined them!
We left the Turkish place and went back into the octagon where things were looking pretty lively. We entered one of the pubs/clubs and got to drinking. Soon enough we were on the dancefloor, and her friends were unsubtley motioning for me to get closer with Eloise and eventually just pushed us together. So we danced and it was a bit of fun but we didn’t hook up or anything.
From what I remember (which isn’t much now) the dance floor was only very small, if it was even a dance floor at all, I think we were just dancing in the seating area. Ollie was getting in the zone, flicking his golden highlit hair around and climbing on the back of the chairs. The rest of us weren’t quite so loose as that but danced together as we quickly got more drunk and our moves began to take a wilder, off beat kind of form.
Ollie on his high, lead us out and was adamant about keeping the party going and trying another place. At this point I checked the time and somehow it was already 3am! The time had flown by.
I decided I should probably find where I was staying for the night, so I bid farewell to my new friends, added Eloise on Facebook, then left Stu, Ollie , Eloise and Sam in search of a warm bed.
It was fucking freezing outside! Even after the drinks I’d had, it wasn’t enough to numb from that cold. I typed in the address of Steph’s house on Google Maps and I could see it was an hour’s walk away, so I looked for a taxi. However, walking along the road I saw the taxi rank and a long line of drunk rugby fans were waiting to get home. In which case, I resorted to walking…
Almost an hour later and I’ve sobered up a little from the brisk fresh air and exercise, walking/jogging through the streets of Dunedin to stay warm.
(Another Fun fact!! Dunedin has the steepest street in the world, so you can imagine the fun I had walking up and down these streets at 3-4 in the morning, huffing and puffing away, climbing through a mini mountain range in my epic journey to reach this bed I’d booked through Facebook, from a lady I’d never met before in my life…)
I felt a bit like Frodo. I was afterall walking on the land of the Lord of the Rings movies, on a long, arduous quest, only rather than a trip to Mount Doom to dispose of a ring, my quest was a drunk, solo mission in search of a bed…
Anyway, the dot on the map showed me I was very close to her house. However, I still managed to get a bit lost. Then I remembered Steph had sent me instructions on how to find the place, and with those I was able to find a hidden stairway which led me up a bank until I was outside her house.
Praying she’d left the key out for me like she said, I approached the door and looked under the door mat…
The key was there!!! I was saved 😀
I let myself in being as quiet as I could, and used my phone light to search through the dark house to find my room. At this point I realised I didn’t know which room was mine and there were a couple of other rooms that had the door closed.
Well, this was awkward. I had to choose a door, so I went for the one right in front of me on the other side of the sitting room. Gently turning the handle, I pulled the door open with an annoyingly loud creak and shined the light in the entrance. I saw instantly it was someone else’s room by the feet that were sticking out the end of the bed… Whoops.
Moving sneakily up stairs, I tried the room at the end of the corridor.
BINGO
An empty room with the double bed made up all nicely. Thank God.
I just had enough sense left to put my phone on charge and set an alarm before I got straight into bed and promptly passed out.
Next morning my alarm goes off at 8:30am and it takes a few seconds to recall where I am.
Once I know where I am, I also remember that my mission for the day was to somehow make it all the way back to Wanaka for my work shift on Reception at the local Sports Centre at 3pm. My idea was to hitchhike and so I thought I would ask this woman Steph where would be the best place to grab a ride.
So I got up, put my clothes on, got my shit together (a small backpack that I’d managed to keep safe with me the whole night, stuffed with the bare necessities: charger, snacks, water and clean pants) and went downstairs.
Steph was in the sitting room in her pyjamas and dressing gown and looked much as she did from her profile picture, only without the makeup: light blonde hair, porcelain skin and clear blue eyes. I could tell straight away she was warm, friendly and honest and it added up with the the type of conversation through Facebook I’d had with her, and how she left the key out for me. She welcomed me and we could finally introduce ourselves.
I apologised if I had woken her up arriving in the middle of the night and I explained I didn’t know which room was mine so I mistakenly opened her room. She laughed and said it was no problem.
I went on to say that I unexpectedly had a night out partying with some guys and gals who I met in a Turkish takeaway and so I got a bit carried away having originally planned to just go straight back to her house after the game. She thought that sounded exciting and she was happy I had a good night.
She offered me some tea and cereal which I eagerly accepted and I asked her about herself. She told me she was born and bred in Dunedin and was a practicing nurse. While I sat in the sitting room with her chatting and eating cereal, I heard my phone ding signalling a message had come through and I checked it out…
The message was from Eloise and she’s asking me if I needed a lift to Queenstown as they were heading back there in a few minutes time…
My eyes light up and I smile with relief at the prospect of not having to hitchhike the whole way back to Dunedin. I reply back saying:
“Yes Please!!!”
Steph see’s my reaction to my phone and asks what’s up. I explain that the girl from the previous night had messaged me inviting me to go back with them to Queenstown.
“Wow that’s handy”
“Very handy!” I said, “I was going to ask you where I could hitchhike from around here to get a ride back to Wanaka but now a ride has come to me!”
So I send her Steph’s address and she says she can come and pick me up in 10minutes. Wow, so fast! Suddenly I was to leave Steph’s house, thank her for her kind hospitality: leaving the key out for me, tolerating my late night arrival and offering bed and breakfast, then I pay her the money agreed upon and exit the house and down the stairway.
(I will also say here that I stayed in touch with Steph and later on in my New Zealand adventures Steph the Angel of Dunedin sorted me out with accommodation again!!
In that Short Story me and three friends drove from Nelson all the way down to Dunedin, a total of 11 hours(!) to see Ed Sheeran live in concert. That time I asked Steph where we could stay and she hooked us up with one of her friends who had a big room in her house spare for all of us.
What a Legend!)
On the road their car is pulled over waiting for me, a mid size hatchback with just enough room in the back to accommodate three people. Eloise gets out, warmly wishes me good morning and motions me into the back of the car between her and Sam; Stu was behind the steering wheel and Ollie was in the front next to him.
As I enter the vehicle they are discussing the route back to Queenstown. “Morning” I said.
A tired “morning” came the chorus reply from the others. I thanked them for offering me a lift as Stu pulls away and we begin our long three and a half hour journey to Queenstown…
Eloise was the only one with any substantial energy it seemed and she enthusiastically made conversation while the rest of us sluggishly strung a few sentences together. Ollie riding shotgun was in charge of the music and we listened to some mainstream chart hits, some songs though were met with quick objection from the others and so they argued now and then throughout the journey defending their taste in music.
Our driver Stu was like the dependent Dad of the group, and judging by the way he talked about their work at Eichardhts he bore a more serious approach and slated Ollie, the child of the group for being so laissez faire.
As they all worked with each other, they were sometimes chatting together about certain things that had happened at work, guests being assholes, staff not doing what they should etc. and how Ollie always seemed to get away with showing up late to work.
I was still considering how lucky I was to be with them at this point. If I hadn’t met them, I knew I’d be trying my luck at hitchhiking that whole way home, so I felt very pleased to be sat there in the middle of a new group of friends, getting a free ride and imagining that I should hopefully make it back in good time before I needed to start work at the Leisure Centre.
Just over half way through the journey, about two and half hours into it, we make the combined decision to stop off at a cafe for a much needed break and some breakfast.
Omelette and chips amongst other fried up goodies were consumed in this small café in a tiny town in what seemed like the the middle of nowhere. We crashed out as the food hit our stomachs with a wave of exhaustion washing over us and none felt very much like getting back in the car for the remaining hour or so’s drive. All except Eloise that is who remained the only one remarkably upbeat and tireless. The rest of us dragged ourselves on nonetheless and we returned to our usual car seats and took off once again.
Now because I was pretty exhausted at this point, I struggle to remember exactly what happened next but what I can piece together is the following situation:
You can see from the map that Wanaka, my destination, is north east from Queenstown. It’s roughly an hour’s drive. You can also see that our route from Dunedin would take us through Cromwell which was half way between QT and Wanaka. And the question I ask myself is:
Why did I end up going all the way into Queenstown with them when I was going half an hour away from my destination…?
And the answer is I don’t know!… but I could speculate that I either forgot the route we were taking was through Cromwell OR I thought that I’d stand a better chance getting a ride hitchhiking from QT.
Whatever I did though, I ended up in a gas station in QT saying goodbye and thank you to my new friends Daddy Stu, Big Boy Ollie, Bubbly Eloise and Hippie Sam for the unexpected night out and free lift back to QT.
From there I made my way to an exit road looking for a good spot to grab a lift to Wanaka for what would be the last leg of my epic journey in going to watch the rugby game by myself.
I checked the time and saw it was just past 1 o’clock in the afternoon which meant I had less than 2 hours to make it back in time to get changed and cycle over to the Leisure Centre for the start of my shift. This could definitely be done but I still had to rely on some kind soul to pick me up fairly shortly.
Holding my thumb up as I walked along the main road I found a place to stop and look at the cars coming past me so as to smile at them and draw their attention, also believing that someone was sure to help me out.
10minutes later one car pulls over next to me and the driver asks where I’m heading.
“Wanaka”, was my hopeful reply.
“Ah no sorry mate I’m not going that far, I could drop you further on… but yeah nah probably better spot here.”
“Ah no worries, thanks anyway” I said, and the car sped off.
20minutes later and a banged up old car pulls over next to me. The driver looked a young guy, maybe a few years younger than me, and as I came over to the car window I saw he had short ginger hair and freckles. I also couldn’t fail to notice the car was jam packed full of stuff, which made me realise he must have been camping out or sleeping in his car for quite some time.
There were a couple of fishing rods which ran through the middle of the car, the ends of them finishing just before touching the front windscreen, so for the guy to be able to see me properly he had to bend his head down below the lines.
Hey mate, where are you going today? I asked the young ginger haired man.
“Twizel” came the reply with a slight German accent.
“Oh ok, I don’t know where that is… do you go through or near Wanaka?” I asked.
“I don’t know, let me check”, and he proceeded to check Google Maps on his phone while I did the same just to double check, as I lingered by the window to his car.
“Ah OK, yes it’s on the way, you can get in”, he said while I also came to the same conclusion and realized that he could drop me in Cromwell, the place which I’d already come past with Eloise and the gang almost an hour ago… (What a nincompoop!)
“Ah great thanks” I said as I swung open the passenger door to find an assortment of empty food packets scattered over the seat and in the foot well with a large, solid, cooler box which took up half of the seat with some other clothes and camping gear heaped on top and around it. So I brushed some crisp and sandwich packets onto the floor and managed to squeeze my bum into the seat pushing against the cooler box and minding my head from the fishing rods until I could just about close the door. Then we were off!
“Thanks for the lift man, I appreciate it.” I said.
“That’s OK” he said “I like to pick up hitchhikers because I am just by myself so it’s fun for me.
“Cool man, very kind. What’s your name?” I asked.
“Hugo” he said.
The usual sort of conversation took place here: where you from, what are you doing here, how long have you been travelling etc.
He was, as I’d guessed, from Germany and he’d been in New Zealand by himself for a few months already just travelling and living out of his car and fishing every day. And he proceeded to tell me about his love for fishing and the kind of relaxed life style that came with it, of being out in nature, camping and not needing much of anything. He also told me of a new project of his that he’d just finished. He said he’d managed to build himself a smoker so that he could smoke the fish he’d caught.
“Wow that’s awesome man” was my reaction.
“Yes, I have some smoked rainbow trout in the back, if you’d like to try it?
“Sure, yeah I’d love to try some!” I said enthusiastically.
And true to his word when we had arrived in Cromwell and he pulled over by the side of the road, we got out and he walked to the rear of the car where he opened the boot.
Inside was packed with various bits of fishing equipment with another cooler box and a bagged loaf of bread beside it.
He opened the cooler to reveal a very tasty looking, freshly smoked piece of fish which he had already got stuck into so there was half of it left. He pulled a few pieces off of it, placed them between two slices of bread and handed it to me.
“MMMMmmmmmmmm…. Wow man this is fantastic!!” I spurted out with a mouthful of smoked rainbow trout sandwich.
“Oh good“ he humbly replied.
“Great job with the smoking”, I said. The fact that you caught it and smoked it yourself instead of buying from a shop… that’s awesome, it must give you such a sense of achievement as well.
“Yes I love it, I will spend nearly all my time here fishing I think.” he said smiling with eyes shiny and passionate.
“Well look Hugo, thank you so much for the lift and the smoked rainbow trout and enjoy the rest of your time here in New Zealand. Maybe I’ll see you again somewhere along the way J
“Yes, I’d like that, happy travels Giles, see you later.”
And with that I walked along the road that goes through Cromwell, feeling really joyful and motivated, until I was back on the main road for cars travelling to Wanaka.
I checked my watch. It was 2 o’clock. This meant I had an hour before my shift started. I could do this.
So I waited by the roadside with my thumb out once again and noticed that unfortunately, there was only the occasional car or truck coming in this direction. Well, there wasn’t anything else for it but to eagerly wait for the next generous person to pick me up.
The good thing was that the only vehicles that would be passing this way would be going to or through Wanaka, so there would be no question for the person driving past who would see me by the side of the road that I’d be going Wanaka way (and could give me a lift!).
The bad thing was the vehicles coming along this section of road were often cruising at pretty high speeds so they wouldn’t have had much time to notice me, make the connection that it was possible to give me a lift and slow down before speeding past and it being too late.
Only 10minutes after having weighed up these two countering probabilities, a big white van came into view approaching from the Queenstown direction. He was streaking along until he noticed me and then straight away he slammed on his brakes, signaled with his indicator, then pulled over just in front of me.
I came up to the window to see a Mauri bloke with lightly coloured skin, short black hair and thick arms engraved in tattoos.
“Going to Wanaka bro?” he said in a strong Kiwi twang.
“Yeah are you?” I said.
“Yeah bro hop in” he said motioning with one of his tree trunk arms.
“Ahh awesome, thank you” I said as I took off my bag, placed it on the floor of the van then stepped up and sat on the padded seats next to him. Then we were off! (Again)
He asked what I’d been up to and so I told him a brief outline of the crazy journey I’d had already that day, which stemmed from the day before (which then felt like a few days ago) when I’d had a late lift with Alice to Dunedin.
Throughout me telling the Short Story to my new Mauri mate Kai, he’d throw in some “Ah no way!”s and “that’s crazy eh”s until I’d brought him up to date, which ended of course with Hugo’s smoked rainbow trout sandwich. By this time we were approaching the outskirts of Wanaka and I asked him where exactly he was going.
“I’m droppin’ of a parcel at Gordon Road next bro”
Now it was my turn to say:
“Ahh NO WAYYYY!!!” and I stared at him with my mouth open, for probably longer than was polite to.
“Eh? Are you going to Gordon Road?” He asked.
“YES!!! I live at 21 Gordon Road!! Hahaha holy shit… that’s crazy.”
“Looks like it’s your day bro” said Kai.
A few moments later we’ve pulled into Gordon Road, still with plenty of time for me to go to work at 3pm, and Kai drops me off right on my doorstep!!
At this point I was just smiling stupidly to myself through a haze of weariness; I couldn’t believe my luck. I said farewell to Kai, my Maori white van driver savior and I thanked him for the lift.
It wasn’t until I’d gone to work that afternoon (bang on 3pm), worked on reception until close at 9, gone to bed that night and woke the next morning before I could really come to terms with the phenomenal sequence of events that had unfolded over the past 2 days:
# The free lift from my work colleague Alice three and a half hours over to Dunedin.
# Arriving in Dunedin just in time before the ticket office closed
# Watching a fantastic, iconic game of Rugby including the traditional Haka
# Meeting some fellow rugby going travelers afterwards and partying the night away with them
# Sleeping in a cosy, freshly made bed in a house to which I’d not met the owner but she’d left the key out for me
# Getting a free lift with Eloise and the gang back to QT
# Hitchhiking with Hugo up to Cromwell indulging me in a smoked rainbow trout sandwich
# Getting picked up by Maori Kai who takes me the final leg of the trip (for free) and drops me off outside my front door, back in time for work.
Well, all I can say is…
