"Where I live in the Carribean we don't have a town drunk...everyone takes their turn!" the old sot exclaimed right before he spilled his beer all over the airport bar, shattering his glass in the process. "I swear to God I've never done that before...nobody will believe me!" The bartender replied "Nobody would believe you if you said you broke three glasses a night."
"I've lived in hostels since I moved here from Germany 15 months ago for my software development job. It's not very economical, but I absolutely hate searching for flats. Besides, I have new roommates every day."
The Auckland museum had a touching display in remembrance of all the Kiwis who valiantly gave their lives in the struggle to keep South Africa British.
Realizing that the economics of purchasing a car here were highly unfavorable (every bum on Earth descended upon Auckland to buy a cheap beater; hence the beaters are not so cheap) I decided to spent a day tramping about the tiny volcanic island of Rangitoto with a Chicago couple on a highly structured two month holiday. One eye was on the scenery, the other three were on the clock to ensure not a second was wasted. A decent diversion from the metropolis. Reminded me of the guy from Easy Rider who correctly observed that all cities are the same...some just happen to be wetter than others. Celebrated the outing with some heavy-duty Pirate Lager and canned bourbon and cola. I still have yet to see the appeal of Marmite, which tastes like sardine pudding.
For some indoor entertainment I strolled down to the Dogs Bollix to witness The Defendants play some of the best no BS hard rock since the mighty Atlanta quintet Artimus Pyledriver changed their name to something less creepy. An absolutely slaying cover of "Fairies Wear Boots" and then Left or Right hit the stage for a fabulous set of hardline psychedelic dub. A lascivious lass told me that Wellington is the most beautiful place in the world (never mind that middle-aged Ping had just said the same about northern Thailand), so on the Overlander I go...leaving the campervan haggling to the Germans who are thrilled at $7/gallon petrol.
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