HOUSE ARREST
” I recommend the all-day sailing tour of the Bay of Islands.” Nope.
“There are 4WD tours to the tip of 90 mile beach.” Nah
“Dive New Zealand!” I think not.
I’ve put myself on house arrest. After leaving Auckland a couple days ago with the paint still wet on a tight new budget, I got my second speeding ticket in New Zealand. “Are speed limits very different where you come from?!?” the young bank teller asks as I make the payments. If I took the trouble to convert all those little kilometers into miles, then no, probably not. I guess I just figured that with flip-flopped traffic and wacky street signs, driving here was like a video game—no more real than this colored plastic stuff they call money. Humpph. Maybe they are both a bit TOO real.
So my solution? Don’t drive. I pulled my bike out yesterday instead, but 10km out of town the back tire stopped turning. Temporarily doctored, I made it back to my hostel but had to park its pouting heiny next to grumpy Gerti.
So…time to finish the books I brought, walk by the beach, watch mediocre movies with my hostel-mates. Maybe I should learn to knit this wool they are so fond of? Place your scarf orders now…. 😀
Tags: New Zealand
What, no picture of the Kiwi Johny Law?