Dunedin & Two Days in Qtown

Week 6 – Dunedin and Queenstown

We arrived in Dunedin late afternoon on Thursday 13^th. I asked the lady in the bus terminal where our hostel was, and she kindly gave us both free tickets on the local bus so that we didn't have to drag our luggage through town. The bus driver helped us on and off the bus with our bags. A great start. We found our hostel – Central Backpackers – fairly easily after that. It was just off one of the main street, one block away from the Octagon, the very centre of town. The reception was up on level one, up some steep stairs, much to our disappointment. The first night we were both on top bunks but the for the second night onwards, I requested to move to a bottom bunk and was given the one below P. Dunedin is the twin city of Edinburgh, where I've been living for almost two years. A lot of the streets are the same. Their main street is Princes street like ours, but instead of being parallel, there's a George street which continues on from Princes street. There's also a Hanover and a Frederick street leading off George street. There are a lot of place names and street names the same as Edinburgh or named after places in Scotland, so we were on a mission to find as many as we could.

Our first night we explored the main town, took some pictures of some buildings and found out that there was some comedy going on in the evening. We actually knew before we came to the small city that there was a festival – a Fringe just like Edinburgh, only very, very small in comparison and we'd arrived just in time. We paid $25 each for a comedy night in the Town Hall, a two hour show which then extended to three hours. Each comedian was funny in their own right, although some only parts. I can't remember the first person. The announcer was good and kept us entertained until the acts were ready. Second up was a Maori guy from the North Island. He was good but slagged off his family a bit which I guess is what some people do in comedy, but it just ended up annoying me. He also made references to New Zealand things which neither P or I got. We had to ask the couple at our table for answers. Next there was a girl who spoke about fan-fiction and had made her own one up on the spot about Snake. As in, the older Nokia phone game, Snake. P and I remember reading fan-f when we were younger, and I should probably admit now, still do for certain films or books I've just seen or read, if I don't like the ending, I look for another! But for a game like Snake, never. It was quite amusing! Last there was a guy who'd been doing comedy for 30 odd years, though I don't remember his name. He was great, I was crying with laughter. Most of his set was about how he was getting older and how things have changed since he was younger. Even though I'm only in my mid-to-late twenties, I could relate to a few things. Another part of his set was about sex. Sometimes comedians can be really crude about it but he was very funny and got to the point on a few things that even I got. Like a girls' hair getting all over the place and that arms make it impossible to be comfortable, compared to what it looks like in movies. It was a very good night though and well worth the £12 or so that we paid.

After we returned, we found out just how noisy the Dunedin folk are at night. Very. It was like having a hostel on the Grassmarket. If you live or have ever been to Edinburgh, you'll know what I mean! There were people walking past screaming and laughing and shouting until the wee hours, plus the odd car or seven with their too loud music. I seriously feel sometimes as if I'm too old for this. I feel like I'm older than I am. At least, I'm usually at least 5 years older than most people I meet. I'd love to go out on the town with people I meet, but most of the time they don't want to, so I don't. Even with P being here with me, we didn't go out in Dunedin apart from that one comedy night. Every single night, people were being noisy right outside the window – single pane – so I always had my earplugs in.

On the Friday, we both woke up early-ish to skype our families. I managed to talk to my Dad for a bit. It wasn't easy to find a quiet space, so I just used the dorm room. There were three guys in our room packing, but they said they didn't mind. Afterwards, they asked if he was my granddad, and I said no – my Dad, and asked why. They told me he had a BBC English accent to them (German and French) and was really easy to understand. I guess it was hard not to listen in being in the same room. But I'm sure my Dad'll love the compliment!

We went to Portobello in the daytime. We managed to get the bus outside the supermarket and it took about 40 minutes to get there on a long winding road very close to the waters edge. Much like Loch Lomond, but without ANY barriers. New Zealand's just like that. P has lived in Portobello by Edinburgh for a long time, and we thought it best to go and see the other one and see how it compared. First off, the Scottish Portobello has a way better beach. The one in NZ is tiny and doesn't look very good for swimming, even though the water is mostly crystal clear. The village itself is minuscule. A handful of houses at the waterfront and a few more up lanes, but not nearly as many as home. They do manage to have a few pubs, ice cream shop and fish n chips. We had an ice cream on arrival before walking over to the other side of the peninsula. We couldn't go all the way to the end as the bus didn't go much further. Certainly not the extra 11km we needed to go to see the yellow-eyed penguins. Neither of us drive, which isn't a helpful but there is a tour that can go out there – at a whopping $120 for the privilege. A guy in our hostel did it and said it was worth it, but P and I decided we'd rather spend our money on something a little more worthwhile.

The views from the top of the hill and down into the bay were beautiful. Our walk back was through a fern-covered forest and the path was called “Leith Walk”, which we loved. Anyone from Edinburgh will know the reason behind that. Let's just say that this one was prettier and definitely a lot steeper with no shops!

Saturday we decided to see more of the city. We'd been told of Baldwin street by the man at reception. The steepest residential street in the world. Here's a true story for you, though I'm not sure if all the details are right, but since it's true, you could probably look it up. About 10-15 years ago, on this street, a couple thought it would be cool to try and go down this very street in a wheelie bin. A green council bin just like ours in the UK. The boyfriend fell out half way, breaking his leg and was knocked unconscious. The girlfriend continued down, collided with a truck... and was beheaded. Yikes! We certainly weren't trying anything like that, just the walk up it! As it turned out, it was a hill day for P and I! First we visited the farmers' market at the train station, picking up a bagel each and a load of fruit before the attempt. The street itself has a slow curve upwards and reminded me of the slide at Bowwood when we were kids (A & H should get my reference here). At the top you could see a definite dip, especially when we saw a few cars go down and disappear into it before reappearing at the bottom. Imagine living on this street. P said, what if you had a buggy or shopping you'd have to carry or push up here every day. I wouldn't even want to cycle down it, I'd have the breaks on the entire time. This should give you an idea of the street itself! We were quite glad to come back down again! (oh, and at the top there was a Buchanan street!)

After Baldwin street, we took the bus to St. Clair beach. It's a lovely, sandy beach but very windy. We sat near the dunes for a bit – I sunbathed and P read her kindle, but in the end the wind became too cool and we decided to move on. Now, here's where I was silly. In the i-site on Thursday when we arrived, I told the lady at the counter I wanted to find Glenfinnan Place. She pointed to it on the map and we saw that it was just off the map near the beach. But we didn't write it down. I should have done. Because after we left the beach, we went looking for it. In the wrong place. I didn't know it at the time, but we went up one hill, when really we should've gone up the on the opposite side of the valley. Suffice to say, we never found it. But we did find Corstorphine, Aberdeen street, Erskine street and Bruntsfield Place.

On Sunday, we had to leave Dunedin for Queenstown, but our bus wasn't until 2pm from a really random part of town. It was also raining pretty hard, so we decided to go to the Otago Settler's Museum. It was very interesting in there, there was a whole part on transport and electronics through the ages, as well as Maori history and of course: the settlers. I found 6 McLaren's (my Mum's maiden name) who had come over in the mid 1800's. Maybe we're related! I found the museum pretty good, they had clever interactives – a bit like Amelia or Vasco – but on a script. There were three scenes were the characters just started moving and talked about life in early Dunedin. There was also a part on the settler's journey here by boat, including a section of the dorms for the women.

After we'd spend sufficient time in the museum, we set off for the bus stop. Of course Intercity's bus stop is in the middle of a industrial estate, on a random street, on the other side of the railway. Torrential rain was still upon us once we got outside and we got absolutely soaked!! We had our jackets on of course, but my trousers stuck to my legs in no time at all and my trainers were wet all the way through. When we got to the stop, there was no time to change and we had to get straight on the bus. I had to take my shoes and socks off, the feeling was disgusting, and P only took her shoes off. We couldn't see much of the view the entire way to Queenstown as it rained most of the time, but thankfully when we did arrive – about 7.30pm, it was raining no longer. The bad thing was we had to put our wet shoes back on, and drag our suitcases up this rather steep hill to our hostel. What a journey!!

Monday was St Patrick's day. We don't really celebrate St Andrew's back home like everybody celebrates the Irish patron saint around the world, so we went out in style! During the day, we took a wonder around the town. We had brunch in an Irish bar whilst sitting outside in the sun, sharing our table with a couple from Ireland. The man talked to us quite a bit, and talked about his travels – and his bungy jump. There are many things that Queenstown can offer. There's the usual biking and water sports. Then there's skydiving, paragliding, bungy jumping, bungy swings, gondola rides, jet boats and boat trips. There's quite a lot I probably haven't mentioned. Basically, if you have the money, the time and the interest for it, you wouldn't be bored in Queenstown.

After our meal, we took another wonder around the streets. I saw that there was a job advertised in the i-site, working at the counter – minimum 6 months. It's a long time, but that would last me all of winter and would look great on my CV. I also booked the Kawarau bungy jump for Tuesday. Sounds crazy, right? Even more so when you find this out: I'm terrified of heights and have a fear of falling. Why a bungy jump? I thought I'd never have the courage to do it again. I had P with me too, so she was my encouragement. We also found the supermarket, and went out in our sandals as our shoes were still soaked from the day before. Of course, it started to rain, again and we got wet, again. But we'd bought ourselves a chicken and, after preparing it with garlic butter and herbs, we waited for it to be ready. The good thing about our hostel was that, at 6pm, the staff there made a big pot of soup, free. We had soup most nights, so by the time the chicken was ready about 9pm, we weren't really hungry any more. But wow, it was good (if I do say so myself)!

We got ready for St Paddy's (into our green t-shirts we go!), and went out with a bunch of drunken people from our hostel around 10.30. We'd had two G&T's by this point but we were nowhere near as wasted as these people were. P had her face smudged with green paint by a guy who then tried to make it look like a loveheart. Let's just say he didn't do a good job. He tried to get my face too, but I just dipped my finger in the paint instead and went to the bathroom to try and draw a 4-leaf clover on my face. It was raining hard by the time we left, and all of us got soaked, again. The pub we aimed for, the same one we had our brunch in that day, was full and we were looking at a 30 minute wait. Instead we ended up in a bar called Cowboys. It was full to the brim with people and had karaoke going on in the background. We stayed long enough to have one drink ($8 for a tall G&T), get drink spilled down by back and take a picture of the random moose in the bar before we moved on. We went to a bar on Ballarat street instead, where the clientèle, let's say, were a little older than the last place – or closer ages to us. We had another drink and a bowl of chips (why does everything come with aioli?), and were chatted up by a 30 something Irishman who told us he came here 7 years ago and never left. We got back to the hostel around half 12, nice and sensible. One of our room-mates was still awake, I never heard the other one come in, although she said the next day it was more like 4am so I'm not surprised.

At 8, P and I got up so that I could do my bungy jump. We had to be at The Station, the bungy jumping information centre, at 9.30, but we got there early so got to use the computers there for a while. I was very nervous and twitchy by this point. On the wall, you could watch videos of people doing the various jumps you could do. I was going to do the bridge jump – the original jump of 43 metres. You could do the Nevis jump, at 134m, where you free fall for 8 seconds. The smaller one was hard enough for me, and I'd promised my Dad, that if I ever did a jump it would be over water, just in case anything went wrong. We got the bus around 10am to the jump, and we met one of the girls that had been out with us originally the night before, V. Her boyfriend and other friends were doing the Nevis jump and it was nice to see someone I recognised also doing this jump.

When we got there, I was first up to sign my form and get weighed. They told me I could then go any time. I thought I was going to be sick. I asked if anyone had ever thrown up on the way down – no. Hopefully I wouldn't either, but I was terrified by then. P went and stood in the viewing area while I went up onto the bridge. There were a lot of tourists milling around taking photos and for a moment, I wished I was just one of them. The bridge was freezing. I was in my shorts and a hoodie, but the wind was piercing and I wasn't the only one shivering. I'm pretty sure I was shaking for other reasons too but I forced myself not to think of it.

I was given my harness – just like a climbing one – and the guy helped tighten my straps. I was white as a sheet as I queued up for my jump. When it was my turn, I was asked to sit on the ledge before the jump area, while they tied me onto everything. Then I was asked to sit down on the small preparation shelf, where they took off my sandals, and tied a towel with a thick rope around my ankles. They asked me about myself and my day ahead. I had an interview to go to for a hostel job and they were chatting to me as if we were just chatting in a bar. I was now bound by my feet and shaking even more. I was thinking, what the f*** am I doing? and then the next second telling myself, you can do it, you can do it KP. There were two ledges next to each other so they can get one person to jump while they prepare the next. I saw one person jump, and then it was my turn. I couldn't move my feet, I could only really shuffle, and I was helped into position by the guy who tied my feet. My sandals were clipped onto my back and I was told they might hit my bum on the way down. At the edge, my first mistake was looking down. It was a long way down. I could see the blue of the river and I could see the yellow dinghy with two people in it all the way down there. It looked like a toy. I was gripping onto the handle near the edge with fear as I shuffled forward even more. I was told to put my toes over the edge and I started to panic. My heart was going so fast, but I was still telling myself I could do it. Right Kirsty, they said, look at the camera here, look at the camera there (I waved to P on the viewing platform) and then the dreaded: whenever you're ready. I could feel them holding onto the harness at the back. I wasn't ready. I would never be ready. But if I didn't do this, I would be labelling myself as a chicken all my life. So I opened my arms, and fell forward.

I don't remember much about falling, only seeing that the water was coming up fast and that maybe I could touch it. I don't remember screaming, but since my throat hurt after, I must've done. I bounced back into the air – once, twice. And then started twisting and swaying to the side. Suddenly, the boat was under me and I had to grab onto a pole and then a guy's hands to get into the boat. I was told to lift my head up so that they could roll me backwards into the boat. And then I was down and they untied me. I was told to look back up at the bridge. All I felt was relief and through the pictures here, although I look awful, was relief. It didn't last a long time, but wow, what a rush. I'd finally done something nobody in my family would ever dream of me doing. The guys in the boat got me quickly to shore, and with my legs like jelly, I hiked back up the cliff face to P.

Seeing my pictures on the screen – and the awful video – brought it all back again. But I was glad I had done it. There was only one or two good shots of me, ones where you couldn't see how terrified I was, but for my blog viewers only, here's the full deal. I got both my video and my photos. Proof. And I have a certificate and a t-shirt. It's a conversation starter for sure! The video won't upload so I'll just show you my oh so wonderful pics instead!!

V and I after jumping

We saw V jump and she looked so calm in comparison, she was even smiling! I could never have been that brave! On our return to town, we went for an infamous Fergburger together. My favourite is the Southern Swine. They do it so well! Huge beef burger, bacon, salad, tomato chutney and avocado. We ate them in the park. I was so glad it was sunny that day!

And I will continue with my stories another day! I think 5 pages is enough for now. Only a week behind in updating now (sorry)! Hope you enjoy the photos and film!! Keep in touch!  

Weeks in NZ (at this point): 5.5