Thursday, August 12

I'm so excited, and I just can't hide it

ATM not working at FJ

Final bus journey this morning takes us from Franz Josef up to Greymouth where we will be taking a train to the East Coast of the South Island.

And what a finale we have for a bus driver. This is another video as audio, but I can only describe this guy's vocal affect as cheesy DJ, plus blowhard, plus showman, plus bus driver. (or Simon Bates with a NZ accent)

Wanker. No doubt.

He didn't shut up the whole trip, but we did stop for tea. So using our last $5 bill we shared a cuppa, and went to see the animals in the yard.

The best parts of this whole trip have been the animals. A friendly cat in FJ, a camel ride in the outback, Koala action in the suburbs of Sydney, a Kea in Milford, or a kid goat in the middle of nowhere.

The stop we made is apparently a town, with just 2 residents. And they sell themselves as the roadkill café, but I'll always remember them as the place where 2 baby goats were joined by a pushy Joey sniffing Anne for potential food.

Later we stopped in a supermarket for one last chocolate run. There is Cadbury's stuff that they don't sell in England. It's a chocolate heaven down here. Back on the bus (and the driver was late) we headed for the last part of our trip.

The TranzAlpine train takes you over the Southern Alps to Christchurch.

Along the way the train stops at Arthur's Pass. Many people jump out to take a photo.

I create my own angle. Pure bonus that a coal truck with UNLOAD was stopped on the next track.

We arrive in Christchurch and flop into our 8th hotel of the trip.

Tonight dinner is in a Belgian restaurant. It's the best food I've had all trip. With a full belly and one too many Stella Artois we head back to our hotel.

Along the way we notice that the Pointer Sisters are playing in town tomorrow. Pah, a day late. And Robin Gibb (the one that is neither the lead singer, nor the dead one) is playing soon after.

I'm ready to head home and back into my routine, but the hotel bar throws us one final photo op. As the lounge pianist tinkles away, this crazy overly made up broad sits herself down next to me.

Man I love me a silly wig.

A few hours sleep, and I'm up again at 2am. In the lobby trying to prepare to beat the jetlag. Just me and a hotel receptionist named Xong.

It's time to go home.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Thanks Richard! Your blog made me feel (like French crap!) as if I was traveling with you... Now that I see the amount of hatred you hold against the French and their culture in general, please never come to visit us again! Thanks in advance...