Room Rage - The anger and frustration caused by others in your dorm. Usually, but not exclusively, in the form of snoring, rustling plastic bags at night, turning on random lights, loud breathing, talking and singing in their sleep, loud ticking clocks, and letting their alarms ring for 20 minutes.
I've finished work at the bottling factory and am all set to get back traveling properly again. It was actually pretty sad leaving in the end. The Kiwis who worked there were so nice and some really funny bastards. Most breaks and lunch were spent slagging each other. The focus was usually on the girls and I generally managed to avoid it. But not always.
In anticipation of the Ireland/All Blacks rugby match I had brought in an Irish flag to put on the wall. The next day one of the lads had attached a newspaper article to it (detailing how the Dublin pub 'The Bank' had barred the All Black captain) along with a noose.
The work was grand. I'm thinking I prefer labouring to office work. If only the pay wasn't so much better in offices, and the women weren't so much easier, I'd probably be converted.
It feels weird to leave the backpackers which has well and truly become my home. Everyone there is pretty cool, and it's a bummer to say goodbye to the people who have become pretty good friends and made it feel that I'm not really living away from home with total strangers.
So I packed up all my stuff and said my goodbyes. My main buddy, an English girl Marie, did my last wash (and actually most of my washes) for me and cooked my last dinner. She's great. She drinks even more tea then me. It's always good to have a good 'tea buddy' in a hostel.
Life in Blenheim has been plodding along for the last while with not too much happening. I've been pretty lazy and trying to save money. The other week I got a bit fed up so I organised a 'tash-a-thon' in work. A few of us grew moustaches (I shaved my beard: first in to a wife-beater style, and then in to a 70s porno tash). That was good.
Besides that I spent most of my time sat out by the river relaxing and sometimes watching the ducks rape each other.
One night a few locals took some of us to an after hours bar, which turned out to be a sort of underground bar for a local biker gang. The place was surrounded with barbed wire fence, security cameras, and a couple of big alsatians. Quite exclusive I guess. It was pretty dead when we went in, but I met a few of the bikers. My main concern was that their were Swastikas all over the walls. Not really my kind of place. That's just me. I like my chocolate in the shape of Santa or an egg, I like my women short, and I like my Nazis as far away from me as fucking possible.
There were a few friendly plaques and photos from other gangs, including one from Sinn Fein. Not too sure if there's any genuine affiliation.
Anyway, it turned out that we knew the leader of the gang: A guy who had always kind of intimidated me. He told me and Liam (another Irish guy) how his girlfriends family owned a bach (a secluded basic house) out on D'Urville Island, and invited us out to it.
So the 3 of us and a dog went out there for a few days. Took us a couple of hours on this guys fishing boat, and the place was amazing. It had its own beach, and surrounded by beautiful forest. The house was real nice too. Totally secluded and just so peaceful. And all of it there for just the 3 of us.
We went out fishing a good few times and caught loads of cod and moki and scallops (which have become my favourite seafood) and crayfish and pawa (ugly looking things). We ate loads, and the stuff we brough back lasted us for weeks. Beautiful food which would have cost us a rake load in the shops. For example, scallops cost about $2 each, and we took away 50 each. Crayfish sometimes cost almost $100 each, and we had a good few of them.
We dropped nets over night and pulled them in in the mornings. As well as loads of massive fish we also pulled in a couple of rays and a shit load of sharks! One in particular was massive and this guy pulled it on to the boat for photos before we chucked it back. Crazy shit.
He went down diving a couple of times while Liam and I fished. We asked what we should do if we pull in a shark. "You'll be right." This was generally his response to any question we asked regarding staying alive. He had far too much confidence in us.
He's a real chilled out guy. Easily the nicest person I've met in N.Z. And one of the funniest people I've ever met in my life too. To be honest I'd been having a few doubts about some of the locals, but him and some others in Blenheim have really changed my attitude. That trip to D'Urville island was possibly the best and cheapest time I've had since I've been in this country and it's thanks to him.
One morning I was wandering around the beach. 'Combing', possibly. The weather was great and the view was beautiful and it was completely silent except for the waves, so I just sat down and stared for a while. Eventually the gang leader and the dog came up and joined me. (He loved that dog. One night he had been drinking in town and began to miss him, so he sent a taxi round to pick up the dog and bring it back to him at the bar.)
He told me how he tries to come out here most weekends and just relax and eat what he catches. We chatted about random shit, and after a while he got up to go and wander off down the beach. Before he left he turned to me and said, "It's a shame it can't be like this all the time." He's right, of course.
I never had Leader-of-Nazi-Biker-Gang-Friends like the ones I had when I was 25.
Jesus, does anyone?
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