Culture shock here consists of not knowing an awful lot about rugby.
Discount coupons! Three whole pages of them. Auckland, get ready for me.
Elton on the radio.
What are the chances that this crowd will, like me, fancy watching The Piano after The Wedding Planner concludes?
£2.25 for a KitKat?!
‘Free Food’ box contents: one tube vegemite. That is all.
My roomie has wittily nicknamed me “boy who lives South of London”. I feel special.
Jetlag has been perfectly cancelled out by seasonal daylight difference.
I pledge to re-watch Citizen Kane without cabin crew interruption.
Next to your standard condom machine, one labelled ‘Sachet of cologne’. This, in the bogs of a warehouse discount supermarket.
We came to see the cave, so don’t go telling me it’s unsafe to walk through. Pah to safe caves.
Mini-rebellion No.1: booking myself into an independent hostel not provided by KiwiExperience. Sly.
In two days of Kiwi Experience I have lost my sunglasses and forgotten to collect a hostel key deposit. The sense of ‘school trip security’ is clearly false.
The Shire is just over that hill, Sam. But it’s $75 entrance so let’s just grab a coffee and head off.
England + Photoshop TouchUp = New Zealand.
Cars are worth having. I will make friends with more drivers.
Xmas BBQ firing up.
Zorbing, schwebening, agroboating… There’s more to this than bungee.
If I’ve learned one thing from my ‘cultural experience’, it’s the greeting ‘KIA ORA’, chanted at every opportunity.
Goodness me these backpackers are a loud and unruly bunch.
Japanese roomies help relieve the sadness of not being in Japan.
New Zealand: Financial expenditure on BOOZE and ADRENALINE = ZILCH {…therefore…} Energy expenditure on WALKS, SWIMS and CYCLES = ZILLIONS (of… Joules).
Long-stay hostel residents stride around with pride. Justified pride, of course; these elite know how to work the kitchen hob.
Wet.
