We touched down at 4am after a 13 hour flight... after our numerous overnight coach journeys in South America this was no problem for us and we slept for pretty much the whole thing. There was a gruelling customs process to contend with (my Chilian honey was confiscated and my walking boots sprayed) and we then sat down with our Lonely Planet to see what on earth we were going to do here. We soon realised that there is more than enough to keep even the most restless person entertained. The main feature of our New Zealand trip is the fact that we have decided to rent a CAMPA VAN!! Yes Vix and Al are turning into trailer-park trash and doing New Zealand in a mobile home – yeeha! We had found a suitably cool company on the internet (Escape) and went to their offices as early as we could to pick up our new home on wheels. This company graffitis all their vehicles with different designs and we have a cool purple and gold one called Pearly (apparently the design is meant to represent the 'pearly gates' – as long as that is not some kind of omen I'll be quite happy).
It's kitted out food storage, a sink, utensils, dining table and seats and then you can dismantle everything to create your comfy doublebedded bedroom. Perfect for us. So in we hopped and off we went. Time to tackle Auckland's five lane motorway – yippee! Al was having kittens while I was attempting to navigate without a map (we hadn't really planned that one too well) and he was trying not to damage our new campa. Just to spice things up the van is an automatic and in NZ they drive on the left (like any sensible nation in my opinion) whereas we had grown very comfortable with the right side of the road from Chile by now. We managed to stumble upon a petrol station and get directions to a large supermarket where we stocked up on all the basics necessary for any fine camping trip – pasta, tomato sauce, beans, noodles – you get the picture – we are broke after Chile. No actually the plan was to stock up on the basics and buy the fresh goods as we went along, excellent considering that many enterprising New Zealanders sell fresh fruit and vegges from their backyards. After our stock up we picked up route 1 southbound and were on our merry way. The plan for NZ is to focus on South Island. But after seeing how beautiful North Island is as well, and because we want to do this at a fairly relaxed pace, we decided to spend a few days up north. We headed East from Auckland to an area called Coromandel where the countryside looks as if it has come straight from The Shire (aka Hobbit land).
Very beautiful and quite unlike anything we'd seen before. The hills rise up and down in a very perky manner, unlike in England where the hills roll smoothly. And the fields are a magnificent shade of bright green, against the blue sky it is really beautiful. We stopped off at a beach along the way and went for a walk. 
It was really stunning, white sands and crashing waves. We walked along the sands to the end of the beach, observing a sign which said 'birds nesting'. On we walked happily lost in the beautiful scenery, when suddenly out of nowhere we saw a seagull heading straight for us... with a mean look in its eye... We were wondering what to do – run into the sea? face up to the savage beast? - when, just before it hit us, it veered upwards with a loud, high-pitched squawk, and then turned around and came right back at us! Despite my slightly irrational fear of birds (mainly pigeons – rats with wings) I found this all very amusing while Al was more worried that his eyes might get pecked out. We took a little video: (to be added later as takes aaages to upload) and ran on until the bird gave up and returned to its nest. Some of the other birds are much cuter though and they prefer to walk rather than fly which is funny. And they always hang out in pairs too - very sweet. 
So our first night of camping brought us to a small campground in a national park. We parked up and set about cooking straight away on our small gas stove. Al whipped up a pasta feast and we both congratulated ourselves on our choice of transportation/accommodation and great cooking. The only slight downside were that the toilets were little more than a hole in the ground (I contended with this in the middle of the night with my little head torch on, trying not to look at the many spiders that had gathered in the cubicle for the night) and the shower was only hot for 3 minutes after inserting a NZ$ coin. That was certainly interesting. But the experience was a good one and in the morning, after a hearty breakfast, we took a little tramp (NZ lingo for a hike) through the national parkland to a waterfall.
The weather was glorious sunshine, blue skies and the forest was incredible, made up of giant ferns, palm trees and normal trees. We walked along a river that was so clear we could see right to the bottom and climbed up the hill to the waterfall which took around an hour in total. The waterfall looked great but I wanted a closer look so climbed down to the base of the fall on my own. I climbed onto a large rock and from there hopped on lots of different rocks in the pool to get a better view. It was so tranquil down there I could have stayed all day.
On my way back I leaned over a rock to see how far I had to jump when, shock horror, Alex's precious sunglasses, with which I had been entrusted, fell from my head into the river. Ahhh! So I had no choice but to jump in after them. It was annoying because I had spent so much energy hopping around keeping dry but I was also rather pleased that I had an excuse to get wet as it was such a hot day and the water was so inviting. Al wasn't too pleased that I nearly lost his sunglasses but he's found it in his heart to forgive me I think. So we continued up the coast to a small place called Cathedral cove where there is a beautiful cove surrounded by cliffs and a cave that goes straight through the cliff to another beach.
The sea was beautiful aqua-marine blue and the Southern Pacific Ocean waves crashed on the beach. 
After 2 months in South America we are still in awe at the first-worldness of this place. Every town we pass through makes us stare in amazement at how advanced it is here, and every cafe we pass is like 'wow, real coffee!' But I don't think it's just because we've been travelling, they really have a great quality of life here. It's very comparable to Britain here – the countryside, the people, the towns; but it is a bit different i.e. the hills are green and in parts look very much like the Scottish Borders where I come from or the Scottish Highlands, but with the exception of palm trees amid the forests and the colour of the sea being a beautiful aqua-marine from anywhere on the island;
the weather is a lot better – at least it is actually sunny in summer; the towns all have fish n chip shops and cafes but somehow they look much nicer than in the UK; and the people, who essentially are of the same stock as the British, look more relaxed and are much friendlier and chattier than the Brits – although not necessarily healthier and sun-exposure has taken its toll on quite a few of the older people. Al's new 'fro from a windy NZ hilltop:
Another beautiful beach where Al made himself comfy on the sand dunes:
We've had a lot of fun giggling at NZ road signs. It seems that everything in writing (be it a sign, a shop name etc) is a message written to rhyme or in slang. E.g. instead of simply saying 'stop at red light' the sign will say 'Red means stop, end of bloody story!' Instead of saying 'don't drink and drive' they say 'Drink + drive = Grave result!' Instead of 'mind the pedestrians' they say 'Don't burst their bubble!' (with a pic of a bubble around some walkers or cyclists) And they like to say 'Merge like a zip' (with a picture of a zip) when your coming onto the motorway. However our favourite so far has to be 'C'mon guys, get firewise!' written outside every town's fire station. Alex has adapted it for general everyday use 'C'mon guys, get streetwise' (which we say to bad drivers and generally anyone who crosses our path) - it's a very versatile slogan. There are many street signs in NZ telling people how to drive, but there is a reason for this – the people here are terrible drivers. They speed around corners, driving over the central line, they overtake on corners and they drive on your ass when they want to overtake. Driving a campa is very different to driving a car, for the obvious reason that you are the enemy. Manys the time I have cursed caravan drivers on the small winding Scottish roads, desperately trying to find a space to overtake on. Well now that's us! Although I do hasten to add that our campa is more like a van, less like a whole house on wheels. Still although we're considerate campies, leaving plenty of space for overtaking, we're sure we can see the poor kiwis who are stuck behind us mouthing the words “rattle yer dags mate!” (i.e. get a move on!)
As we want to concentrate on the South Island we have had to do a fair bit of driving through the north. We've tried to sleep outside camping parks as it's free and we're extremely poor after having been raped so much in Chile, however occasionally it's been unavoidable i.e. when we've needed power or when we haven't been able to find somewhere to park. The first camping ground we stayed in was in a town called Napier and we really needed to charge some of our electrics and have a decent shower etc. We marveled at how some people live, those whose homes are caravans which remain parked in the same camping ground for years (you can always tell cos the grass is longer around their wheels). And we also marveled at the size of some people's campas, which literally dwarfed our small van. Whole houses on wheels, complete with bathrooms, living rooms and probably a jacuzzi on the roof if you look hard enough.
We, however have been managing fine with our little bed/kitchen/dining room conversion:
We were a tad disappointed to find that campers aren't as friendly as we thought they'd be, probably cos most of them are tourists (the English are the most unfriendly) and unlike my preconception of joining up barbies with your neighbour and clinking beer bottles as the sun goes down over the caravan rooftops, it's more like doing your washing up in silence and getting up early to beat the race to the showers. But hey, we enjoyed our campa van trailerpark trash experience, but we probably won't make a habit of it. Unfortunately the next night we had to stay in another camping park. We had finally made it down to Wellington for our ferry, scheduled for the next day, but couldn't find anywhere suitable to park up. The sea was too rough for us to stop at a beach lookout and we were worried we would be swept away and we didn't want to sleep at a motorway lay-by. Plus it's quite built up around Wellington and all the small country roads only led to private properties.
After two hours of driving round, with the sun getting lower and lower on the horizon, we stopped at a proper trailer-trash camping ground. I hopped out to inspect, privately praying they would be full, and went to the manager's office to inquire. I rang the bell and was greeted by a huge man, skin-head, tatooed down both arms and wearing a wife-beaters vest and a snarl on his face – I had just interrupted his T.V dinner – a grave offense as far as trailer-trash ar
e concerned.
“Hi!” I beamed brightly and falsely “Do you have any sites available?”
“Ur, yuh.” he grunted (in trailer-trash speak this means 'yes').
“Oh great! And how much is that for an unpowered site?”
“Twenny-sux” (NZ's pronounce the number six as 'sux').
“Ok, is that per person or per van?”
“Er, yuh for the two a yuz”.
“Ok well could I let you know in a minute?”
Big mistake to ask this question as it involved the prospect of disturbing his T.V dinner again.
“No!” he barked, “You can tell me now, are you gunna take it or not?” Yikes!
“Oh... ok” I stammered, “but I must check with my boyfriend first...” but by then he had slammed the door in my face.
I scuttled back to Al and opened the door shouting “drive! let's get the hell outta here!” and off we sped as fast as our little campa could take us.
We eventually found a camping place at a nearby happy clappy 'Christian' camping ground where alcohol was banned and the sounds of a guitar strumming kumbaya could be heard on the wind. We cooked up a tomato-rice dish, enjoyed a furtive beer and settled down for the night, happy campers and ready to hit the South Island the following day.
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