Hostels in New Zealand tend to be small, family-run, homely places. There are bigger, chain places as well, but it's easy to find nice ones with a bit of character. The Villa, in Picton, was a lovely cottage with a hot tub (the Kiwis seem to be into these) and free home-made apple crumble and breakfast. As usual, there was no central heating or double glazing (do the New Zealanders forget that it gets cold here?) so I spent some quality time in the hot tub to warm up. I didn't beat my record of 9 straight hours, set one weekend when a group of friends and I rented a house in the Catskills. I was pruney for days afterwards, but it was worth it. I was assured that the water in this one had just been replaced (because, when you think about it, it's just a large bath everyone sits in) and there was a Scottish bloke soaking in there as well, who had been working at the Wellington film festival, changing the reels during films. Apparently he had to watch for a little dot on the film as the signal to replace it, but missed it once and there was a long pause then the numbers starting counting down on screen from the new reel (5...4...3 etc.. He'd worked on the second and third Matrix films and got to know the cast. I also had an interesting conversation with a New Zealander who had come to Picton to buy a boat. He'd had a liver transplant and heart attack and was trying to live life to the full and realise his dream of living on a boat.

I went for a long walk up to The Snout, a headland overlooking some of the Marlborough Sounds. It was a glorious day and I took Milly, the hostel owners' dog, who seemed to enjoy it too.