Two Guys, Two Bikes, Three+ Countries

So Dusty and I decide to go for a ride before my first day of work at the Pig & Whistle. Where should we go? How the hell do I know? Arrowtown was recommended to us and it was only about twenty minutes away. Perfect!!
So the typical South Island road takes us there. It meanders in a way that makes you think that it was designed for riding bikes. The pavement is so course that you can actually watch the tread wear down on you tires. The speed limits here stay the same for the most part no matter what the road types or shapes are. If it is a hairpin corner they will suggest a slower speed but by no means would they actually ask you to slow down by law. Ironically when you get out onto the open dessert like stretches that proceed you entrance into the mountains the speed doesn't change either. Painfully slow in those areas if you aren't severely braking the law. Getting sidetracked.
We arrive in Arrowtown. Dusty often misunderstands my mumbling and thinks that I am talking about Arabtown. I think that he is just a closet racist right winger that hears what he wants. In his defense, Arrowtown does have a Chinaman's settlement. We had to go see that. I mean, who can pass up a Chinaman's settlement. We ride through town in about four and one half seconds, pull into the historic Chinaman's settlement. After browsing for about two seconds we choose to stay in the saddle and without a word being said drive straight into the unmarked dirt roads that disappear into the woods. Before we know it we are darting in and out of a maze of dirt roads when it hits us. Our first river crossing.
It doesn't seem to look that bad. Maybe only a foot deep and 30 feet across. We have seen it done in photos and on film so we know that it is possible. I have to admit, it made my ass pucker but I was going to be damned if I was going to wimp out on it after Dusty dove in on his KLR. Well, here goes nothing.
Turns out that it is not that bad at all. I did have the bike tuned up to be carrying a large load which was a huge mistake. The back end was bouncing all over the place. The next couple got a bit more interesting, getting into crossings that dipped us almost all the way up to our knees. The water was coming up and over the front of the bike as I plowed through the stream. Not being prepared for this type of adventure I am of course in jeans and sneakers, now soaked through. We decided that the rest of the "River Road" (good name) would have to wait till another day as I did not want to miss my first day of work.
Since then, Dusty and I have both wandered off and found ourselves on seemingly harmless terrain when streams and sometimes wash outs suddenly appear in front of you. It keeps your knuckles white, your heart racing, and commands all of your attention but it is by far the best riding that I have ever done.

So, I have messed up the inspections of our motorcycles by having one of the hard cases locked. The Dept of Agriculture needed in to make sure that I was not bring over some critter that would destroy all of New Zealand. What is the most efficient way for me to make this 1/2 hour ride in a taxi. Rent a scooter.
Do I tell them where I am going? Hell no. I have to ride all the way out of Auckland to the surrounding areas of the airport. It is about 20 miles.
So I am truckin' along, trying to to get run over by every car on the road any time I hit an uphill section and bogged the bike down to about 20 miles and hour. Oh, and of course I have one of those extremely ridiculous helmets that makes you look like a penis from the shoulders up. Not something I need any more help with while riding this hog. Roads here will change dramatically in short distances. Changes like a 20 mph zone through residential neighborhoods to highway without a chance to get off. All of a sudden everyone is just going a lot faster, except of course me and my beast. That was cool. Rush hour in the largest city in New Zealand on a highway. My only saving grace was at one point hitting a downhill section where I got the steel horse up to about 70 mph. Now I have been over 130 mph on a bike before and that was no comparison to the fear that came with this adventure.
I eventually limped up the shoulder getting blasted with debris from trucks, got lost, and to top it all off had a wasp fly into my face and land on my sun glasses. Not know what has blinded my right eye I reached for the sleeping giant and that is where the fun truly began. He of course did not like me grabbing him (big enough to hold in three fingers). So it began stinging me. But not until it crawled under my glasses so it could get me in those tough leather areas, like both of my eye lids. It happened so fast I did not know what hit me but all of the time I am trying to stay upright on this stupid as scooter which is now swerving all over the place as I can not see out of either eye which are both spewing tears. He ended up getting me with one in the eyebrow, three in the upper eyelid, and two in the lower eyelid. Imagine your eyeball in a microwave, throbbing, about to explode like a gremlin. A few choice words were followed with the realization that had I gone the other way on this road, the correct way, I would have already been to the shipping office and none of this would have been an issue. My mood was becoming a bit volatile.
I arrive to find that Dusty's bike has broken from from his shit crate that they were expecting us to pay exorbitant amounts for. One handle bar was sticking out from the side and the whole bike was tilted over about 30 degrees from center. Mine was upright but of course they put side rails against the hard luggage, ripping through the paint and into the plastic core. To top it off the Dept of Agriculture had left and could not come back until the next day so I did not even have to come out there in the first place.
By the time I returned the scooter, iced my swollen eye, and drank about a third of a bottle of Vodka, Dusty showed up with the final blow. The invoice was about three times as much as we were quoted. I almost jumped off of the building.
I won't bore you with further details than than but it was a rough couple of days. Everything has worked out and we have traveled off on our bikes and have reached what is looking to be our home for the next 3-6 months. Though the scooter was an amazing experience, I mean, to have that power between your legs is, well its, Shit!! Glad to have my bike back. Now I can return to riding with an ear to ear grin all day. Our riding from Auckland to Queenstown was some of the best that I have ever done. The wasp, it was just a sign of what happens when you are doing something that you shouldn't be.

So we barely meet one of our dorm mates and she is right up in our grill with questions and exciting stories of her travels. Dusty and I unpack and go out for a bit to eat and a beverage of note. The next day it is apparently just the three of us in the dorm so we get the full brunt of Lisa. The Canadian born 100% for thousands of generations, Lisa.
I actually did not know her name but was told by Dusty that we had a date with her for a drink later that night. Dusty and I spent the whole day looking for jobs and homes here in Queenstown. It was an absolutely gorgeous day. Clear blue skies, nothing but sunshine. Lisa has gone shopping because she felt that she needed therapy after her bunjy jump earlier that morning. It was from 134 meter (roughly 3.5 ft/m). It actually broke blood vessels in her eyelids, though she did have to shut her eyes for me to see. Don't get all in a fuss over that comment until you read the whole story and grasp our relationship with the wacko! I don't think that they broke because of the pressure gained during the fall. After the video of her jump I feel that it is from the impressive death cry that she gave the whole way down, and up, and down and up. Oh yeah, when she undid her feet, herself, she let out another one. Oh yeah, and when the pulley came down and latched onto the harness to lift her there was another one. It made me want to vomit. Anyway, I am getting sidetracked here. Back to the story.
Eventually we talk her into coming out without a shower. The sun is setting, its almost nine at night, and it is getting cold but we still think tha tit is a brilliant idea. That misspelling there was totally subconscious. I was not trying to be funny but it of course made me laugh so its staying. I am freezing my nuts off when Lisa says that she isn't because she has insulation. She by no means is a big girl but rather a full figured girl. I don't want to get into the whole you're not fat conversation so the comment is ignored. She then goes on to tell us "I am normally a banana, but after living in Australia for the last year I am a chocolate banana." Ok, can't resist this one. What the hell does that mean. Well, I am yellow on the outside and white on the inside and I have an African American butt. Dusty and I about fell out of our chairs. Then she opened up a can of Asian stereotypes, accents, and family stories on us.
After her one allowed drink as an Asian, she was of course hammered and cut herself off. The one drink was a vodka cruiser (Schmiernoff Ice). Oh God, she started to talk then. We went to get some pizza but it did not help old jabber jaw. Our laughter fueled her fire further. Lets see if I can remember some of the quotes.

"My father said that he would disown me if I did not marry an Asian, but I have finally convinced him that white people are ok too!"

"My whole life our dog was named Petty. I just found out at age 27 that he was named petty because that is what he was, he was petty. Oh, Pretty. What else in my life is totally wrong and a lie?"

"Mom, why does grandma call white people Halo? Is that the real Korean word for it. No Lisa, it is because the say Hello all of the time."

"Lisa, Keep your eyes out for the farting lot. Dad!! its a parking lot"

If a traditional Korean man tried to treat me like a traditional Korean woman, "I would punch him in the face, throw him out of the house and then later ask him if he would like to talk about his concerns."

"One time when I was younger, I thought that my eyes were small enough that no one could tell where I was looking. It was a great discovery. I stared at people for weeks and they couldn't tell. It was like wearing sunglasses. Then my friend said why are you staring at me? You can tell where I'm looking? Yes, I can see your eyes. Oh Shit!!"

"lets go the bars. I need to perv on some guys butts."

"I am actually English with a good tan and eyes that were taped up as a child and the stuck. That is how white I really am."

So she gets Dusty and I up out of bed, to the club, trying to get us to perv on women (hit on super aggressively). I wake up, she has her second drink of the night and then drags us back to bed because she is now tired. This all of course ended with a drunken interrogation of what we like about women, the full Cosmo question and answer. She could make paint drying a memorable experience.

So it was our list night on Manta Ray Island. Our favorite spot that we went to. Part of its magic is the palce and the other is the poeple we were with. We had great friends traving together, great owners of a virtually green operation, and local villagers that could not stop smiling if their lives depended on it.
About fifteen of us decided to get on the piss (drink) after we were called in for celebratory shots for the studens of the graduating scuba rescue course. The group included travelers, the young Aussie owner of the island resort, dave masters, and off duty employees of the resort. Never before and never again will I do so many shots of Zambuca (white and black) or QF's (quick fucks => madori+zambuca+bailey's = YAK!!).
Anyway, this all led to very bad dancing, extremely bad singing, and even worse decision making. One idea I had was that this would be a great time to go for a late night snorkle on the reef that ran through the bay of the island. That one was shot down by the dive instructor quickly. The next however did not. I was told that if you hopped over the railing off of the back of the Bure in which we were partying, walked to the top of the small hill (only a few meteres), there was a perfect place for a young man as myself to take a pee with a few to boot. So as agaile as I lept the railing like I was freaking spiderman. However without his skills, magic, and ability to see in the dark almost took a digger right then and there. All signs that I should have made a trek down to the bathrooms by the beach. But no, I am determined that this is a far batter option.
So I make my way up the hill and look across the small plataue at the top to a chair sitting on the edge of a cement landing (base for the water storage facilities). Looks like a smoth flat safe path. Right!! In fact there was no ground between me and that chair. With one step I found myself sliding face first on my belly down a very steep bank until I hit and grabbed onto a tree about ten yards down from the start pint. Trying to gather myself I clawed my way to the top, dusted myslef off, took the intended pee and rejoined the party. Covered in dirt and grass stains, I got many laughs and questionable looks from my friends. The best part of that was the one giving me the most crap did it himself about ten minutes later.
The next day I went back to the spot to see what happened and as a result I saw what almost got ugly. I slid about halfway down to the ledge of a cliff that was no less than 6-7 stories. Oh well, what can you do? Still alive and kicking to tell the story. Just watch your step when taking a pee while on the piss!

So there we are. Dusty has turned in for the night after a quick onslaught of Whiskey shots and beers. Dave, our English friend and I have decided that after three nights in the rainforest, we deserve a big night out. In walks twenty-seven single nurses. All men in the bar migrate towards the dancing flock and stare without a bit of shame. Dave begins talking to a couple and I come over and join in. We eventually leave the conversations for reasons that I don't currently remember but while at the bar remembered that I had asked them if the needed anything. So, twenty minutes later I deliver the cocktail and without saying more than your welcome, turn and walk away. The recipient came back to me to strike up a conversation that I was not really interested in having, only to be drug away by one of her collogues who continued to tell me that she was way to good for me. Crazy bitch doesn't know whom she's talking to right. So I turn back to my drink and continue the conversation of politics and world issues with Dave. The bartenders close up the bar and drag us to one down the street.
By now we are officially trashed and have made an agreement not to order any more shots. We each get a drink instead. We step outside, change that, I step outside; Dave is met in the doorway by a cute young lady that proceeds to jam her tongue down Dave's throat. Dave takes some interest to this proposition and lets her continue with her subtle communication, foreign relations if you will. While in mid kiss, a man in his mid-forties grabs the young girl by the arm, drags her across the street only to give her quite the verbal lashing while pointing his finger in her face the entire time. He comes back across the street to us and then with a big shit eating grin tells Dave that his "friend" likes him. "I think we were a bit past that point mate!" Dave replies. The smile leaves the strangers face, he then grabs the young girl by the arm again and drags her away, never to be seen again. Not really understanding more than what we have seen on TV about hookers, it was the only explanation we could come up with.
Enter Indian cab driver.
North on Victoria Street Please! -Bill
Where are you staying?- Cabby
Great question! -Dave
North on Victoria Street please! -Bill
Where are you staying? -Cabby
At the hostel! -Dave
Which one? -Cabby
Great question! -Bill
The one North on Victoria Street please! -Bill
The animal one! -Dave
Yeah, the animal one! -Bill

So we get dropped off at the gas station on the North end of Victoria street and decide we need a sandwich. With plenty of laughter the boy behind the counter looks up the hostels in the phone book to help us find the "animal one". I then have an epiphany.
It's just past Mills St. -Bill
That's the street light outside the shop -gas boy
Fantastic -Bill
(Enter Dave)
Come on Bill, we have a ride! -Dave
Great! -Bill
(Dave climbs into the car. As I peer into the vehicle, I see that the driver has seen me and she is the girl that I am not good enough for.)
No! No! No! Nooooooo! Get out! Get out! Get out!- yelled the driver
What the hell is happening? -Dave
The car proceeded to race away without even shutting the door like they were trying to escape a car jacking. We have not a clue as to why this girl that was hitting on me earlier had suddenly decided that I was her kryptonite. Luckily we were only about 100 meters from our beds. Dave however was a little pissed that i prevented him from riding home with a large group of beautiful nurses that he is convinced were going to do no other than invite him to a big nurse orgy. What can you do? Crazy Ass Kiwi's!