Having finally found myself in a place for more than one day, I felt a blog was definitely due. The last couple of weeks have flown by. They’ve been a mix of tears, laughter, stupid conversations and even more stupid activities.

Perhaps I should back track a little? I arrived in Rotorua in time for Christmas and was immediately filled with a sense of both love for the city and dread for the days ahead. When I got to my 12 bed dorm, expecting to find a room full of people to spend the holidays with, I was slightly shocked to find just 3 others; a small group of Japanese girls who didn’t speak a word of English. I hate to admit it but I was a tad distraught about the fact that my Christmas would be spent with just myself for company…the hostel was pretty much empty and the bar rather dead – things were not looking good. I panicked even more when, on Christmas Eve, the Japanese left and I was in a big bed of dorms, not one other filled. However, the cleaning lady took pity and invited me to her house on Christmas Day if all else failed…at least I had a back up.

Fortunately, help came in the form of aa Korean girl whose name I still can’t get right (I thought she was called ‘Luna’ until, on her final day, she wrote her name down and it didn’t resemble ‘Luna in the least’) and a Mexican guy. The three of us, seemingly lonely at Christmas, spent the day walking down by the lake and through parks of hot springs. Not Christmas, but not half bad. My Christmas meal consisted of sushi (hand made by myself and the Korean girl that morning – yes, shocking) and a bottle of wine and I was happily tucked up in bed at a reasonable hour as all pubs/bars and restaurants had their doors firmly shut.

I felt nothing but a sense of relief once Christmas day was over. Before I came away I didn’t really take into account how the holidays would affect me, or even if they would at all. It hit me a lot harder than I thought it would have done. Not that Christmas is a massive thing in my house (in recent years fighting with my Mother about whether or not to put the Christmas tree up has been commonplace) but it’s more the whole build up to Christmas. It was a lovely sunny day in Rotorua, but who wants sun on Christmas day unless it’s along with a chill in the air that forces you to wear a coat and scarf? It sounds great having a hot day, and it really was gorgeous…but it just wasn’t Christmas.

New Year’s Eve was much better. It’s different to Christmas beacuse no matter where you are in the world, it’s all about meeting randomers and just having a good time. By this time, my 12 bed dorm was 7 beds full so there was a nice group of us. It was also the cheapest night ever thanks to the $50 bar tab we won the night before, playing a game of giant, inflatable Twister. Bending into awkward and sometimes painful positions with complete strangers has its advantages…

My final days in Rotorua flew by…the weather was up and down, more down than up but we managed to have a good time chilling out by the lake or reading a book by the pool. It was very relaxed and nice to just stop for a few days. I knew that once I left and jumped on the Kiwi Bus (the bus service I’m using here), things would be full steam ahead. I wasn’t wrong.

I jumped on the bus a couple of days after New Year, made friends immediately and within half an hour was at a Zorbing track, inside a giant hamster ball, about to roll down a hill. I hadn’t laughed that much in a fair while. I guess while in Rotorua, I got stuck in a slightly down frame of mind. Christmas really knocked me down – it was a difficult time and while I just felt the same old highs and lows as before, it became increasingly difficult to snap out of the ‘lows’ when I knew at home all my friends and family were having a merry ol’ time together. Don’t get me wrong, after Christmas I had a fantastic few days and evenings out, but it took imitating a hamster to give me the much needed adrenaline kick which snapped me out of my lull.

On the evening of the hill rolls, I arrived in a small town called Waitomo, where its famous for it’s caves. I had a great evening with the guys from my bus, eating a BBQ the local pub put on for us. There was only one slightly awkward moment during which I was raving about how much a missed good red meat…a rave that lasted a good 5 minutes…when I suddenly realised I was chatting to a Vegan girl who politely nodded and then proceeded to ignore me for the rest of the evening. Funny that.

The following morning I went down into the caves on a 4 hour trip involving abseiling down a 50metre drop to get in, zip-wiring in the dark, jumping off rocks into ice cold water and sitting in a tube watching the glow worms go by. It was interesting to say the least. Having never abseiled before, I was grateful for the brief run down of what to do but not so grateful once I realised no practice was involved and it was just a ‘Hey, here’s a big dark drop – enjoy!’ My response was a, ‘You’re *bleeping* kidding me?!’ at which I only got a laugh in return. Charming.

Turns out that no, he was not *bleeping* kidding me and I proceeded to shimmy and jolt my way awkwardly down into pitch black caves wondering why I thought this would be fun. Turned out to be a lot more fun than I could have asked more and believe it or not, I actually managed a smile at the end of the drop. Shocking.

After working our way throught the caves, we had to venture out. I hadn’t considered that dropping 50m would mean climbing that back up…not a graceful trek. Rock climbing came fully into play as we made our way up the waterfalls. Again, there were some expletives uttered from my lips but can you blame me? When climbing up unsteady waterfalls, water gushing down, no ropes holding me on and some instructor yelling ‘put your leg up there’ (far higher than my leg would ever bend) I felt I deserved to scream a good ‘bugger’ (or something to that effect) at every rock I met.

While this activity was called ‘black water rafting’ there was no real rafting involved. ‘White water rafting’ was a different matter altogether. This again was a hilarious activity that left me smiling for days. Plumeting through rapids and down a 7m waterfall with, admitedly the lovliest, but most worrying instructors I’ve ever met thanks to their over use of the words ‘dude’ and ’sweet.’ Obviously they knew what they were doing and they were absolutely fantastic but I spent much of the rafting wondering which guy had been smoking the most pot that morning and so which I should count on more when drowning under a waterfall. Luckily I made it out alive, all in good time for the next lot of stupid stunts.

I arrived in Taupo a couple of days after Waitomo and was pretty impressed by the huge lake which is apparantly the size of Singapore. After I good night out I was up at 5am ready (and not so raring) to do the Tongariro Crossing – a 7 hour walk through the mountains. I actually use the term ‘walk’ quite loosely as most of it involved puffing, panting, climbing and trying to get through it without crawling on my hands and knees. At least this was the case for the first 2 hours as you have to climb up rocks, steps and generally horrifically steep slopes in order to get anywhere attrative. Delightfully named the ‘Devil’s Staircase,’ this section was not for the unfit…I know. I’m terribly unfit. If this isn’t an incentive to avoid the devil, I don’t know what is…

After the initial gruelling trek, cursing and muttering the whole way, the top seemed more in reach and then things improved. It was beautiful from there onwards and suddenly the feeling of hate against all mountains fell away. I’d recommend it to anyone, hellish hills and all. We joked on the way up (in between swearing and gasping for air) that Frodo and Sam must have been incredibly fit little hobbits to get through this kind of trek (much of the Lord of the Rings filming was done in the park), especially when it came to ‘Mt Doom’ which was an optional climb. Ring bearer or not, if I was Mr Baggins I certainly would have opted out.

And what else would be the logical thing to follow a mountain hike than a skydive? For some reason i found myself stopping at the airport on the way back from the crossing, ready to be strapped to another person and chucked out of a plane. The walk had clearly dabbled with my logical train of thought.

It was by far though, the most incredible thing I have ever done. I didn’t even feel jitters until I saw the first person jump out and by then it was too late to back out as I was being shuffled forward, closer and closer to the exit and then suddenly being told to ‘just dangle your legs out’, like it was the most natural thing in the world. No time to dwell on this though as quick as a flash I was free falling. The initial feeling was indescribable – panic, disbelief and pure joy. The rest I barely remember as my brain struggled to comprehend what the heck my body thought it was doing and I only switched back on as the camera man came into view and began to high five me and grab my hands.

The only unfortunate thing about the experience was that, mid laughter, I dribbled a little and couldn’t move my hands close to my face to wipe it away due to the sheer force of the air. How very lady like…

The pure adreline fuelled high after my feet landed firmly on the ground didn’t ware off for a fair while and even now thinking about it gives me nice happy butterflies in my belly. It’s strange to think that I paid a small fortune to be chucked out of a plane but it was worth every penny. If I ever get stuck in a slightly depressed rut again, I now know that all I need to do is jump a 15,000ft drop. Easy as pie.

After these crazy few days it was time to lay low…so I took a trip round the east coast of the north island. Just when you think the country couldn’t be more beautiful, it turns around and shoves beaches, farm lands and coastlines like no other in your face. The roads were empty and we’d go hours without passing another veichle, the people I met were lovely and most places I stayed were family run and very homely. I tried my hand at horse riding (put it this way, I’m not a natural) and fed sting rays just for the hell of it. Very entertaining. 

Back to civilisation now and I find myself in Wellington, New Zealand’s capital city. It’s safe to say I’ve already fallen ever-so-slightly- in love with the place. It’s chilled enough to be relaxing but busy enough to be fun and action filled.

I’d take this place over a hobbit hole any day…