After a final (slightly hungover) day in Tokyo, I left the land of kimonos and hello kitty vibrators to fly to the nation of the All Blacks and crazy kiwis.
I arrived into Auckland where the (just as crazy, just as kiwi) Aziza met me and took me back to her cottage in the woods in Te Atatu. This humble abode has quite a reputation, which did not disappoint - it was filled with an unbelievable amount of stuff, including Ziz's amazing shoe collection (seriously, how many shoes can one chick own?!) and a host of bizarre animals, ornaments and decorations. "Cool, eh?!", she said as she showed me flamingos made with real flamingo feathers, her famous 'fruit shoes' and scary creatures from Lord of the Rings. Ziz had taken the next nine days off work (though still getting paid - jammy bugger!) and "scored us a car", complete with petrol paid for - you know you can rely on your old pals to sort you out when you travel to the other side of the world. Sweet as bro!
Over the following days, we preceded to get into sufficient mischief to make up for lost time, having not seen each other for over six months since we left London - me bound for Nepal, her heading for Africa. We celebrated Ziz's birthday with the lovely Colette (another Pentagonite) and Damien, the family, and a host of other folk who I had heard about but never met. We drove up north, got blown around, looked for fish and ended up partying with old friends we bumped into in the pub. We exchanged stories, walked in the rain and got drenched where The Piano was filmed. We stopped our car to moo at a big brown cow. Seriously. And the cow mooed back.
We went on a road trip to Taupo, Rotorura, Mount Maunganuie and the Coromandel Peninsula. We sat in thermal rivers (an awesome experience, I wish I could do it all the time), watched traditional Maori performances and smelt the sulphur of the active volcanoes and geysers. We visited Hot Water Beach and failed miserably to made a hot pool. We stayed in a poky hostel where there were cat hairs but no cat - disturbing. We lay on the beach to recover from our hangovers, chased each other with seaweed and sang loudly to the radio as we drove along.
Crucially, this being Amelia's Friendship Tour, we recreated the Pentagon Party spirit with Colette. We drove out to Devonport, drank wine and ate Japanese Kit Kats on a little private beach, got lost in underground tunnels and laughed hysterically as we slid down steep hills on bits of cardboard, invariably ending up with grass stained bums, collapsed in a heap, or in my case, hanging upside down. I managed to break my new pink shoe and spill red wine on the only two new tops I had purchased before leaving the UK. Some things never change. We drank Feijoa wine and danced in town, before writing drunken postcards, drinking tea and plaiting my grey hair. What more could you ask for?!
That said, there's serious competition for the most random night spent in NZ so far, despite the short time I've been here. Was it meeting all Ziz's family and getting a potted life history at her b'day party? Was it the Brazilian night at Mount Maunganuie, where rugby players dressed up as schoolboys, suicide bombers and Spiderman (guess the theme) and random South American men tried to grope us? Was it seeing the funniest kiwi flick I've seen - Eagle Versus Shark (watch it, it's great!)? Was it the family dinner where the discussion about the V word went on for ages? Was it the night spent drinking wine in Northland after bumping into someone Ziz hadn't seen in years, then driving back through Wolf Creek territory in the middle of nowhere, along ridiculously bendy roads, in the dark, and hitting our second possum in two days - which had mysteriously disappeared when we went back to look for it?!
Pray, these nights all scored high on the Randometer. But the winner has to be this - Nude Night at the Palm Springs hotpools in Helensville. After a day being almost blown away on the beach, Ziz suggested we take a trip to the hotpools to warm up, have a couple of glasses of wine and catch up on gossip. I readily agreed, being generally up for most things that involve being warm, gossip, drinking wine...oh, and of course, getting my kit off (joking).
We arrived and walked in. There was ominous looking black sheeting surrounding the pools so you couldn't see in, and notices saying that clothing/nudity was not compulsory - "Don't be shy"! Despite the fact I did actually know it was Nude Night, I was still a bit taken aback as we entered the pools and were surrounded by naked bodies of all sizes. I didn't know where to look, and scurried off to the changing rooms to get changed - which basically involved removing my clothes. We poured some wine for Dutch courage (me needing it more than Ziz, being 'nude' to the experience so to speak) and got in the first pool.
I looked around and was struck by the imbalanced gender ratio. There were so many more men than women, particularly older men. No matter how hard you try, you can't help but check out the bodies on display as everyone sits, swims and wanders around starkers - especially people who look like they're wearing clothes, but aren't (not the most pleasant image admittedly). I had to really resist the temptation to giggle uncontrolably and make comments about the different willies on display. It's funny, but in that situation you do lose your self consciousness and it is kind of liberating. It doesn't seem to matter what people look like. There were some amusing moments, and we made sure we steered clear of the hidden hotpools where there are apparently all kinds of funny goings on... Needless to say, we had some interesting conversations on the way home!
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