My evenings after work were fairly low-key—cleaned around the flat, went to the gym a few times, watched How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days with Daiana one night, Juno with Emma another night, then Bad Teacher on my laptop the next. I quite enjoy movie nights; I kind of started to miss them since most of my nights in Napier were movie nights with Sonja and the Frenchies. One evening at the flat, I felt the inexplicable urge to cook and consequently whipped up a meal for Emma and me. It turned out to be the best alfredo pasta I’ve probably ever made. Yummmm. That same night, the Sky Tower was a brilliant beaming red; naturally, I had to get a photo. Daiana strolled down the street with me so I could get a picture, and we stopped off at Starbucks and chatted for a bit before she headed to meet a friend.
That weekend was really nice and laid back too. Sontsa had sent me a package that I needed to go collect from the Ponsonby post office. After somehow standing at the wrong bus stop for almost 30 minutes, Emma came to my rescue and drove me there instead. The package Sontsa had sent me turned out to be the perfect little scrapbook filled with photos, quotes, and inside jokes that flawlessly captured our most memorable moments together in New Zealand. I was beyond excited—SUCH an awesome gift!!! I will cherish it forever =). After the post office, Emma and I read the newspaper over morning brunch at a café in Ponsonby, then went to a well-known New Zealand t-shirt store called Mr. Vintage.
Mr. Vintage is just a small store, but the shirts are awesome and the place itself is full of humor, having comical writings strategically placed all over the shop. They even have a thing called “Lucky Dip” where you can grab any random sealed t-shirt bag out of this bin, pay half price for it, and see which one you end up with. I definitely plan on getting a few Mr. Vintage t-shirts before going back to The States. The rest of the day was spent working out at the gym, blogging, Skyping with my dear friend Kate back home, and THEN randomly deciding to divulge a dirty little secret that I’d been keeping from my mum (and many others back home).
You see, one particular photo of me that Sontsa included in her scrapbook was of me standing by the side of the road, holding a cardboard sign that read “Dunedin.” Next to the picture is the perfectly-chosen quote: “Friends don’t let friends do stupid things…alone.” Haha. Yes, that’s right, I finally disclosed to my mum that Sontsa and I had basically hitchhiked our entire way through New Zealand’s south island =D. I know, I know…hitchhiking is dangerous, rah rah. However, unless you have actually lived in New Zealand for any length of time, I honestly don’t think you can truly appreciate the fact that hitchhiking in New Zealand is completely different from hitchhiking elsewhere.
Don’t get me wrong, it took some serious convincing to get me to do it in the first place. However, after our first hitchhiking experience of getting picked up by two awesome American girls from Oregon, I was hooked. From there, we met a few other fellow travelers that were really nice and helpful, as well as lots of really cool local Kiwis. The ages of people who picked us up ranged from mid-twenties to mid-seventies. We never had a bad experience, always met great people, and saved tons of money. Hitchhiking is so common in New Zealand.
For instance, our first couchsurfing host in Queenstown lived in an area called Fern hill, which was about a 30-minute walk uphill from the town center. An Aussie girl who lived at the house told us we should just hitch rides up the hill instead of walking; she apparently hitched her way up the hill every day, sometimes even multiple times a day. So, Sontsa and I took her advice, easily hitched rides, and never had to walk up to Fern Hill again while we were in Queenstown. =) Anyway, not to worry; I won’t be hitchhiking anymore. It was a really fun, new experience at the time though =).
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