Oh ok, so this is just me being indulgent. And I’ve already posted today for the 1000speak topic of nurturing so time is sparse. Look away if pandering to my ego is really too much for a Monday.
Queenstown is in the South Island of NZ. It is famous as a place of adventure sports and outdoorness generally. Skiing in the Southern Alps. White water rafting. That sort of thing. It is also home to the extraordinary Ferg Burger, a humongous piece of carnivorism the likes of which it is hard to describe.
However, if you do find your way there, try one. They are divine. Tip: take a friend, maybe even a nuclear family. They’ll easily fill up on one with some left over for a snack later.
We, the Lawyer and me, visited for three days and we did all we could. Even an infamous A J Hackett bungy (or is it bungee) jump off this platform. They constantly weigh you to make sure the elasticity is correct. I guess it isn’t great marketing ‘Only ten people squished this year’.
What I really liked about Queenstown, in amongst all the shiny skinned youth and look at me clothes and hair, was this a delightful exuberance about living. We collected a hitch-hiker on our way out of Queenstown, a New Yorker ex-ballerina now extreme mountaineer who just about summed up the people and the place – international, open minded, embracing life. People had time for you even when they patently didn’t. You were important in their lives. Bottle that and you’d make a fortune.
On our last day we climbed the mountain behind Queenstown as evening settled its hazy blanket over the lakes and town. People ran past us, smiling (even going up hill). The views were blissful.
We’d reached the end of our particular journey but in many ways we’d found a beginning. These youngsters have the energy, the outlook and the imagination to make a world in their image. I wish them well (just let them get better haircuts). Even the Lawyer couldn’t stop the energy outflow.
Oh and for those who didn’t see it first time here is a fifty eight year old man with more waist than sense performing the bombs-away dive off the highest platform in NZ.
I might look like a pink parcel entering a waste disposal unit but, sod it, it was effing incredible. This is of course how it should be done.
Take me back again and I’ll eat my ‘The Ashes are English’ T shirt.