The Opera House here is much better than the one in Tunbridge Wells

The last few nights in New Zealand where both emotional and joyous, for contrary to what I'd predicted, I was with - more or less - the same group of people for the majority of the Kiwi Experience journey, and we'd all become rather close. I went ahead of the group to Christchurch, but not before a couple of very drunken nights out in Queenstown. Particular highlights included drinking cheap wine at the harbour by the lake, where hilarious German Mo would play a mean air guitar, and Colin and Matt would mime ecstatically to the best music from Top Gun. The latter would lead us to the decision of performing a topless reenactment of the volleyball scene using a pretend ball in front of people dining outside a restaurant. Whether it was a good one or not is up to them. Us four, plus Fred, Jason and Vicky, joined the rest of the crew later for dancing and good times.

Christchurch, in the region of Canterbury, is, so they say, the most English city outside of England. Which exactly isn't what you want when you've travelled as far away from England as is possible. I found it a little dull, with few sights to see. I decided to go to the cinema one evening to pass the time, and opted to watch a film called Moon (clearly I'm obsessed). I was in the city on my own for a couple of days, until the rest of the crew from the Kiwi bus caught up with me and things got fun again. Some pre-drinking of wine in one of the dorms warmed us up before heading to the adjoining bar of the hostel, for one last night together as one big group. Matisse got so upset about it all he began scrawling desperate messages on people's arms such as 'I will never forget Matisse' and 'I can't live without Matisse in my life'. Poor guy.

In the morning I checked out and travelled to the airport with Charlotte and Kim, two girls from the Kiwi bus, who were coincidentally on the same flight. Sadly I lost them after touching down in Sydney, but they were the most excellent company and helped put my mind at ease before we boarded the plane. After collecting my luggage I stepped outside to find a shuttle to my hostel and was a tad surprised to find it was raining rather heavily. Not that I minded. As soon as I arrived at my destination, way past my bedtime at 7.30pm, I decided to hit the hay.

If I'm perfectly honest, I awoke the next morning not entirely looking forward to my time in Sydney. The thought of having to travel alone again and make new friends seemed tiring, and I had much planning to do if I wanted to see Australia's east coast. The previous night's storm having passed, I went outside, bought some sun screen, and followed a map towards the harbour. If I could go and see the Opera House, I thought, it was sure to put me in a more positive mood. As I strolled through the streets of Sydney I was impressed by the vibrancy of the city, by the people who scurried about their lives and of the mixture of modern and Victorian architecture. Much more a proper city like New York or London, so far from the relatively poor efforts of New Zealand's urban areas. The walk to the harbour from my place in Kent St took a little over 15 minutes, and I felt true, genuine excitement as the Harbour Bridge and the peaks of the Opera House's sails came in to view. Two years ago, maybe less, I never would have imagined ever making it to this part of the world, the distance too vast and too scary to contemplate. Geographically, New Zealand is further than Australia from the UK, but the Opera House served as a strong symbol of other-side-of-the-worldness. Later that evening I met up with Angela, a friend from Sydney that I met on the American tour, and we went to the Opera House again where they have a very nice bar with the beautiful backdrop of those two great landmarks.

The next day I met with some more familiar faces when I arranged to meet Ben and Rachael who have just moved to Sydney from Tunbridge Wells, and are two of my sister's closest friends. We had an excellent day starting with a tasty lunch on a rooftop pub overlooking the Opera House, then on to Darling Harbour where we soaked up the sun over a few beers. Christmas decorations are up already, and I found it a bit surreal to see them in such beautiful, hot weather. We went for dinner together, the bouncers of a bar reluctanctly letting us in despite our inappropriate attire, then we parted ways.

I stayed in Sydney for just over a week, not once feeling tired or bored of the place. I went for a couple of nights out in Kings Cross and at The Gaff with my room mates at the hostel, and met with more of the guys from the American tour as our own plans had brought us to Sydney at the same time. I met up with Ben again for a day at the Sydney Aquarium and Wildlife World, which involved a lot of 'cor look at that!' responded to with 'I know!'. All the while I was working out the most satisfying and cheapest way of seeing the east coast within my five weeks in Australia. I fixed up an itineray with a backpackers agency, and booked myself to leave the following Saturday with OzExperience, the Australian equivalent of the Kiwi Experience. After one last night with Ben and Rach, I packed my bags and headed for the bus stop in the morning.

Coincidentally and to my delight, I found that Fred, from the Kiwi bus and a comrade from the Queenstown harbour moments, was also leaving on the same trip as me! Things couldn't have been better - I was on the road again, with a friendly face and with loads of new people to become friends with too. Our first stop was Spot X, a surfer's spot so called because apparently it's a bit of a secret. We were all to have a surfing lesson in the morning, which I wasn't really interested in, but for now we were fed dinner and given the opportunity to do some night time kayaking downriver, which I took. When us kayakers returned, we joined everyone else in drinking beer and goon (cheap wine) in the warm night until we were too exhausted.

We all awoke with terrible headaches, but attended the 9am briefing for the surf lesson all the same. We were kitted up in 'spring' wetsuits (short arms and legs), provided with nice big learner's boards, and then we headed on down to the beach. Here we were given an overview of the overall technique, and then it was time to hit the water. I dawdled about a bit, then finally decided it was time to get on the board and give it a go. An instructor right next to me shouting some instructions told me the exact right time to get up on the board and stand and to my surprise I did stand, I did balance, and I did surf on a wave for a short while. I did it first time. 'This is easy!', I thought, 'I'm a bloody natural!'. And for the next two hours I proved that this wasn't the case at all as I failed repeatedly to repeat my first attempt. Still, I had a great deal of fun, and found it strangely addictive. Another one of those activities that I was reluctant to take part in at first, but after doing it completely changed my mind. Oh, and it's a good cure for a hangover.

In the afternoon we headed for Byron Bay and for a night on the town. I was to leave again for Rainbow Beach the next day, unlike everyone else who had a few nights to spare. I was sad about this - we'd become a pretty cool group of people in just a couple of days. Still, by the time I was back on the bus I shook off the negative feelings and instead felt glad about travelling alone. I've really met some excellent people, and it seems there's always more round the corner.

Still in New Zealand and it's very nice

Since my last post I did something both reckless and grand. It began by the driver of the Kiwi Experience bus drunkenly telling me that above all else, the purpose of the tour was to try and push yourself beyond your normal limits (he wasn't driving at the time, by the way). I took stock of this. It continued by two new friends, Matt and Matisse, aggressively attacking my decision making abilities by calculated and strategic use of peer pressure. And so it came that I signed my name on a piece of paper that declared that I would love nothing more than to be pushed out of an aircraft between 12,000 and 15,000 feet up in the air.

The next day, quite unexpectedly in fact (we thought it would be the day after), the three of us, plus two other friends named Sam and Marian, were collected and driven to an airport in Taupo so that we could all take part in a skydive. When we arrived we were shown a DVD of what to expect. None of us were mentally prepared due to the short notice, but I couldn't help but detect that the others seemed actually excited about it all and not the correct way of feeling, which is to be scared.

Only three people could jump at a time, so we split between boys and girls. Myself, Matt and Matisse would go together. We had the option of diving at 12,000 or 15,000 feet. Matisse chose 15,000. I hesitated, then also, dunno why, chose 15,000 too. Matt hesitated further for economic reasons, then through calculated and strategic use of peer pressure, I made him sign up for the 15,000 feet jump. The big difference between the two is the amount of time you having free falling, which is the exciting bit. And also the cost.

Anyway, blabbering a bit. So we got kitted up in overalls. We looked a bit like the Beastie Boys. Then we met the men who would be attached to us when we jumped out. For those who don't know, if you're an unprofessional skydiver you'll most likely take part in a 'tandem' dive - you're strapped to a person who has the parachute and will control your dive and your return to the ground. My person was called Mike. I was surprised when Mike led me straight towards our plane. Apparently any training I needed could be done in conversation during that short stroll.

The plane was pink and small. A tube probably about a metre and a half in diameter, with wings stuck on it. Yet it took off, and stayed in the air. After about 20 minutes we'd reached our desired altitude and the exit door slid open. I asked Mike if he ever gets nervous doing his job. 'No.' was the short response. 'Are you nervous?' he asked. I didn't lie. He gave me no sympathy. I have a strong recollection of Matt disappearing out of the door. I was then pushed to the edge, my feet dangling out of the plane. Just clouds below, so no perception of my distance from the ground. A small push. And then falling. Not a bit of falling, like when you jump off a wall or something, but a lot of falling that doesn't stop, and you've never felt anything like it. Once my mind had got round the idea of what was happening I had an impulse to scream, which I did for pretty much the entire 60 seconds that I was rushing through the sky.

Then the wind stops and silence. Partly because the parachute has opened and you're no longer moving so fast, but also because your ears have popped due to all the air pressure. Hurt a little bit actually. The rest of the journey down is calm and serene, as you float gently towards the Earth. I literally hit the ground running, then fell over, then got up again and pulled a ridiculous pose for the cameraman who'd been recording the whole thing for the DVD which shows each of our dives. I'd never felt so satisfied about doing anything in my whole life. Matt had a massive great grin on his face for the rest of the day. Matisse, Marian and Sam were also in jovial spirits. We celebrated that night by drinking and dancing until the early hours. That's a lie, I was knackered and went to bed at about 9.30. I'm pretty sure the others did the same or similar.

The next day was an incredibly boring time spent in Taupo, so I won't write about that. But the day after we went to a place called River Valley, a secluded area with beautiful surroundings, including a magnificent river called the Rangitikei River. I decided I would like to do some white water rafting down that river, seeing as the option was there. Rangitikei is a river with Grade V rapids, which are really dangerous apparently. I was with Matisse again, and also two girls from Sweden. It was very fun, and nobody fell out. At one point we were encouraged to leap off a 15 metre high rock in to the river, which only myself and Matisse were willing to do. See, I told you I wasn't a wimp. Actually I hesitated quite a lot, so I am a bit of a wimp, but at least I did it.

The next stop was Wellington, the capital, and after a couple of nights out partying, on to a ferry towards the South Island. We spent halloween doing nothing halloweeny in Nelson, on to Westport, then stopping in Mahinapua for the famous 'Poo Party' fancy dress evening. Franz Josef was next, home to a large glacier that we hiked up for the day. Pick axes and boots with spikes on and everything. Then on to Wanaka near the Alps and eventually here, to Queenstown, a wonderfully vibrant place with enthusiastic night life and a backdrop of snow capped mountains and a clear blue lake. Yesterday we even met some genuine native New Zealanders. A rare sight, seeing as almost everyone here is British or German, or sometimes Swedish. I've less than a week left in New Zealand, and I'm really going to miss it. Australia will have to work hard to match it.

All the attractive people in this picture are the New Zealanders.