Putting it to bed

I want to finish talking about my tour experience because there are other things that need to be said.

The Christchurch accommodation was remarkable in that the beds were wider than they were long. Next morning we hit the road, breaking at Kaikoura and Pelorous Sound, before pushing on to Nelson. With increasing desperation I called many massage places from my mobile, the yellow pages open on my lap, parked on the side of the street. No luck. I had my hair cut. The nights grew longer and conversation more familiar. We drank beer.

Next town was Wellington. I drove to Picton at breakneck speed, boarding my ferry fifteen minutes prior to departure with a huge sense of relief. It was good to catch up with friends that night, my first time at Motel. On to Palmerston North, the infamous. A cold night and much drinking ensued, although entertainment was thin on the ground (it was a Sunday night but what did that mean to us?) We made our own. The waking brought surprises. Later a few of us journeyed to Wanganui. We looked around the Sarjeant Gallery, the museum and the empty main street. Our single-cd dilema resolved, we set off up the River Road and visited Jerusalem.

Napier next. Nothing much happened there, aside from catching up with my brother. Then Hamilton, that was a good night, and I got a massage at last. Tauranga for two nights: we walked up the Mount on our almost-day off. We had a good night out at a bar on the strip, nasty beats but we danced all the same.



Home to Auckland - so strange to sleep at home. Whangarei was doubtful, but we got the call to go, and consequently saw one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen. Home again next day. That was two weeks that changed me. Often I want to run away, and the transient nature of touring seems to fit just right.