I thought you was a ghost

What's your rush? What's your hurry? You gave me such a fright, I thought you was a ghost!

What's your rush? 

The previous night’s celebrations had lasted into the early hours so most of Sunday morning passed me by while I slept soundly. As I lay in bed summoning up the energy to get out of bed I flicked the TV on. The channel it was set to was showing live coverage of a triathlon. The athletes had just started the cycling stage and I recognised the road they were going down. It was the road next to where I was staying. The thought of seeing fit men in lycra up close spurred me into action and I showered & dressed, heading out with my camera. I didn’t have to walk far to find a nice sunny spot to watch them riding by. I managed to get a few good photos too and any lingering tiredness or hangover was soon gone.

Watching such physical activity made me hungry and I treated myself to a huge burger with blue cheese and a side of chunky chips from Velvet Burger. I could hear my arteries clogging as I ate but it was delicious. I knew that once I got home getting back in to my routine of running would take some effort although watching the triathlon (and maybe the snugness of my jeans) had made me realise that I was actually missing the regular exercise. I have done the London Marathon five times and a number of other shorter runs in between. I once did the Lisbon half marathon, taking a few days off work so I could make the most of a long weekend away visiting my friend Rui and seeing Lisbon. I got back to find that Marcella, my secretary had misunderstood why I was away and had been telling people I was because I was running a lesbian half marathon. I’m not sure what a lesbian half marathon would be but I suspect that the runners would be wearing comfortable shoes.

What's your hurry?

My final full day in Auckland was taken up with a harbour cruise in the morning during which time I managed to catch the sun. I had been sat on the top deck of the boat to get some good photos of Auckland from the harbour and hadn’t appreciated just how sunny it was because there was also quite a strong wind blowing. After disembarking I headed off to find somewhere for lunch, passing a large mirrored office window in which I caught my reflection. It was not good. My nose was rather red from the sun despite me putting sun cream on before I went out. Worse than the nose, my hair, having been subjected to wind and sea spray, was looking huge. I looked like I was vying for a Country Music Award. I decided I needed to find a barber straight away. I managed to find one close to the place I was staying. They couldn’t fit me in straight away but they had an opening a little later so I went for a coffee and chatted to my sister on Skype for a while. She was very kind and didn’t comment on my red nose or big hair, both of which had gone by the following morning when I checked out to move on from Auckland.

My next stop was a few days away in a little place called Whangarei. I had done a bit of research before booking my travel and hostel and it looked like a good place for me to go for a couple of days to relax, do some hiking and try and catch up on some writing as I was getting further and further behind. I walked up to the coach station and went to the information desk to find out which stop my coach would be leaving from. The woman behind the counter asked where I was going and I replied pronouncing my destination like “Wang-array”. A blank look greeted my answer so I tried again. Still nothing. I resorted to writing it down and sliding the piece of paper over the counter. This finally met with a reaction and her saying “Farn-gar-ray”. I tried to repeat it how she had said it. A couple of attempts later I think I had got it. She very kindly explained that in the Maori language the “wh” is pronounced “f”. I could see that navigating my way round New Zealand would be “whucking” difficult.

I arrived into Whangerei late afternoon and checked in to the hostel. The place was on the edge of town, half way up a wooded hillside and it felt like I was in the countryside proper. I had booked online and at the time they had only taken a deposit so I handed over my credit card. After three failed attempts it was clear there was a problem with my card and I would need to call my helpful bank. They didn’t accept Amex so my second credit card was no good either. I handed over my debit card and tried that. When I went to enter my PIN my mind went completely blank. I couldn’t remember the number. I tried a couple of times but it wouldn’t go through. I finally paid cash. The woman gave me my keys and told me she would show me to my room, explaining that I wasn’t in the main hostel, which was where the dorm rooms were, but was in a small building just down the path. We headed down through some trees to a small wooden chalet style building. There were four private rooms and a shared bathroom at the end. The rooms had big glass sliding doors out on to a communal balcony with great views down over the town. The other rooms all looked empty so it would be nice and quiet too.

You gave me such a fright

Having settled in I went for a walk into the town centre, the town centre consisting of about four streets. I found a coffee shop and went in, asking for a flat white. The girl behind the counter looked at her watch and told me I would have to have it to take away as it was nearly closing time. I looked at the time. It was 4:55pm. Clearly things closed early in Whangarei. As I walked through town drinking my coffee I spotted a supermarket and it still looked open despite it being gone 5:10pm. The hostel had a shared kitchen so I could cook myself some dinner. I hadn’t cooked for a while so it would make a nice change. I was also planning on doing a hike the following day and wanted to take some lunch with me so it seemed the ideal time to stock up on provisions. There was also a bottle shop nearby too and a glass of red wine with dinner also seemed like a good plan. I entered the supermarket. The thing that struck me about it was the number of people walking round, doing their shopping, completely barefoot. To me, the idea of walking round a supermarket without footwear on seemed completely alien and quite unhygienic. Over here it seemed acceptable. I made a mental note to make sure I gave the fruit and salad I was buying a bloody good wash before I ate it.

I thought you was a ghost!

Over dinner and a nice glass (bottle) of New Zealand wine I watched a little bit of TV on my laptop. Josh, one of my LA gays, had introduced me to a show called American Horror Story while I was staying with him. I had only seen part of one episode but it looked good so I had downloaded the first few episodes. I sat on the sofa watching it, the big glass door open to let in a breeze as it was a warm night. The show was quite dark and made me jump a couple of times. I wondered if it was a wise idea watching it alone whilst being in a quiet hostel on the edge of a wooded area. Half way through the second episode someone suddenly walked past my room along the balcony. I let out what I like to think would have been a manly expression of surprise but was more likely to have been a rather girly squeal. That made the person walking by jump too. Heart pounding I apologised to the guy. I decided to finish watching the second episode in the morning, once it was light. 

“What's your rush? What's your hurry? You gave me such a fright, I thought you was a ghost!” 
Lyrics from Worst pies in London from the musical Sweeney Todd