Here are some photos of the post-retribution party, my trophy mermaid and some celebratory karaoke.

I wish I could go into length about the town’s charms, plus a few wacky stories about the out-there locals, but this wasn’t that kind of trip. We relaxed in a beach bungalow, walked along the beach when it wasn’t too cold, and snapped heaps of photos (of which I’m quite proud of). Here are a few peeks at what we saw…

By the way, Angela had the quote of the trip in regards to ever-present yet distant surfers: “Looks like the sea ants are still at it.”

If you want to see the other 8 photos, they’re all here.

Downtown Wellington nestled in the hills as seen from around the bay.

Angela had to take a trip to Wellington recently for some work meetings and I got to tag along (not to the meetings this time, “take your boyfriend to work day” isn’t until November). It’s really quite a nice city with a really good music and arts scene. We caught the Wellington Heads on our first night. They ripped through some great swing tunes as we fumbled miserably at the pool table. Lo, the pool hustler career has never been farther out of my reach.

All weekend, unlike the usual Welly weather, the sky was clear and the time was right for riding around inside a crocodile bicycle.

Angela’s boss Simone, her husband Murray, and our 4-seater bicycle of reptilian terror.

One of the many sculptures nestled in every corner of the town.

Some of the local kids hiding in the structural art exploring how to be edgy.

On the second night in town, Raga (one of Angela’s co-workers who lives here) and her family whipped-up a massive and amazing Indian feast. We all ate enough food to feed normal people for a month. And since it was a themed party (Indian hosts, Indian food) Angela got the chance to take part by trying on a sari and testing its maneuverability in dance.

Pure elegance as I artistically blur the photo on purpose. Or something like that.

And for a limited time (because she’ll probably freak out that I posted it), here’s Angela after falling for the old “roll this magic coin across your face and never mind that it’s covered in pencil” trick. Sorry babe, I think the shot looks great.

Best seats we could get were on the far left in the far back row on the upper mezzanine.

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Angela flashes her “look how cool I am because I’m at a Gnarls Barkley concert” look.

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I drop my matching “look how cool I am because I’m at a Gnarls Barkley concert” look.

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The show kicked off with a cover of Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” in the appropriate school gear.

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The show kicked into high gear and it turned into a light and sound extravaganza. Gaze at my blurry photos in wonder.

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As mentioned, I love the music. And I already knew most of the words of all of their songs. With my rose-colored glasses securely attached, I loved the show and thought they were great. That being said, I can admit that the show had major problems. Firstly, all of the audio levels were way too high. Everything came in distorted. The best way to hear the music was to partially plug your ears. Which is not what I want to do at a concert. Especially when sitting in the last row. But worst of all was the crowd. Totally dead. I know why they sucked; Gnarls has one HUGE song, and everyone showed up to hear that ONE SONG. What a shame. At least this girl (the only person besides us on the mezzanine who was dancing) bothered to downloaded one of their other songs.

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Auckland knows how to party, but it’s getting kinda late and it has a meeting in the morning.

The kick-off to AK07 was in the Domain park with over 80,000 people in attendance. Our group of 7 staked a claim to a patch of grass and two opening bands gave us enough time to gorge ourselves on a few too many varieties of cheese, wine and beer. Essential elements to a great show. Once it got dark, Helen Clark (NZ’s man-voiced Prime Minister) welcomed Groupe F from France. Here’s a taste (video!)…

Who would have known that the French knew how to blow anything up? Not I. Touche, as they would say.

The extravaganza lasted a solid 40 minutes and it just got better and better. Absolutely amazing. On the walk back home we ran into a performer who had a baton with fire rags at each end. Sadly though, he started talking to us while we were in the middle of a Johnny Cash “Ring of Fire” reference and became a running hemorrhoids joke. The night ended with some impromptu Texas Hold’em. Don’t mess with the Kiwis, they’re killers!

Who needs to get on a plane to go to the islands when you can just hop on a bus! This past weekend was the Pasifika Festival in Auckland where the different islanders take over different parts of the park and host their own stages featuring local food, music, and kava! We originally just thought it was bland, cardboardy water. Then our tongues went numb.

The music covered everything from traditional island chants and grass skirts, to hip hop gospel songs with groups of 30 kids wearing dickies and polo shirts. But in the crowds, it was comforting to be amongst a sea of hula shirts!

But the focus of the festival for us was the food. Stuffed crabs, chicken curry, taro, massive king prawns, pots of mussels and a ton of other stuff that we can’t even begin to remember let alone pronounce.

But much like the islands (or so I assume), it got hot as hell and even the ice cream-filled pineapple wasn’t enough to keep us out there baking in the sun. So we headed home and got ready for the Auckland Festival Opening Pyrotechnic Extravaganza. To be added soon… With video!!!

A sailing school prepares to launch on Lake Te Anau.

We booked an overnight boat cruise in the Doubtful Sound, but that ship doesn’t leave until later in the week. So in the mean time, we drive north of Te Anau towards Milford Sound. There are hiking trails everywhere. We pull over and tackle the walk up to Lake Marian, a glacial lake high up in the peaks.

The typical weather pattern of this region is rain. The winds of the Tasman Sea suck up a fistful of moisture and slap this area across the face with water. Up the cliff walls, a rain forest clings and thrives. The hike up to Lake Marian is no exception. Dense with foliage and soaked through with a never ending light drizzle, the path is extremely muddy, even resembling a water slide at certain points. A thick fog hangs over the entire scene giving the area a calm tranquil feel. Strange bird calls echo through the limbs and fronds. It’s so perfect here.

The hike up through the mud and trees takes a good two hours and the trees never seem to give way to the sky. Finally, soaked, tired, we break through to a massive clearing. Lake Marian.

(click to enlarge)
The fog is so dense, you can’t see beyond 30 yards. Though it’s a true bummer that we miss what was promised to be a mind blowing view of sharp cliffs reflecting off a glass-smooth lake surface, the look and feel of a mysterious mountain-top lake hidden to all but us was a feeling I’ll forever cherish.

I would have loved to stay up there forever, but with the sun going down, we didn’t want to have to swim down the muddy trail in the dark. Back at the bottom, the trail follows along a rushing waterfall that ran a sharp turquoise color. Glacial sediment. Such a crazy color to see.

The plan was to keep driving on through the mountains to Milford Sound. There is a small lodge there where we hope to stay. As we drive along the road, we get to a long tunnel that cuts through the mountain. It’s a small tunnel, and cars can only go through it one direction at a time. We wait at the stop light and the van starts to get pounded by rain. It’s our turn to go through the tunnel, and it’s pitch black inside. We only have our headlights to guide us through the pothole-ridden, dripping, downhill tunnel. Kind of terrifying.

Ahh, the light at the end of the tunnel.

But that light was misleading. The faucet is completely open and we’re in the middle of a major downpour. “Torrential” doesn’t even begin to describe it. The wipers work diligently to give us the most shocking view we’ve ever seen. The tunnel lets out into an impossibly thin valley with cliff walls so steep, you could rappel down them.

But the truly shocking sight was thanks to the rain, not in spite of it. With walls that sheer and rains that heavy, massive waterfalls streamed down in every direction you looked like an infinite storm of pulsating lightning bolts.

And this wasn’t just that one postcard moment. The drive from the end of the tunnel to the camp took an additional 20-40 minutes. And every minute of that drive was spent staring bewilderedly out the windows marveling at this impossible water world.

When we finally reach the camp, it’s raining even harder. We check-in and learn that the camp doesn’t have any power plugs for vans. No heater tonight. We survive the cold and constant pattering of rain by drinking the scotch we picked up in the Oamaru distillery and boiling water for warmth. Just what we need, more humidity. It was a surreal night. By morning, the rain hadn’t let up a drop and was coming down just as hard as ever. We drove to the end of the road to try and see Mitre Peak, the icon of the South Island, but could make out nothing but rain and fog. We didn’t give up that easy, but the rest is another story…