So, armed with new boat car, I fought myself back and forth all Friday, deciding whether or not I should go to Wanaka. A group had been assembled, and excuse after excuse left the keen crowd at 2.
At about 8:30 pm all the necessary items were gathered and Cmac and I were off. Aside from my quick trip downtown to start off a shopping filled Thursday, on, well, Thursday morning, I hadn't driven the car yet.
I'll take a brief sidenote to describe my Thursday before continuing onward. In the morning I decided it was important to go shopping at the OpShop, which is a thrift store, in order to find the necessary costuming for the 1920s Speakeasy party at my flat that night. Twas a rashly thrown together event, pulling the best 20's slang an forcing them into non-comprehensible jargon, somewhat on the lines of "Drive your flivver over to the juice joint this Thursday for a swanky evening of bootleg entertainment." Regardless, it went well, with its success being amplified by my purchase of a weird knit yarmulka, worn as a cap, and crappy silver pearly necklace, which I tore most of the silver off to look white. After that shopping stop, which also contained 2 jumpers and 2 shirts, I remembered that I was to purchase polyprop gear for my outdoor activities... another huge expense. THEN, with my thirst for purchase unwavering, it just happened to be market day on campus, wherein many stands were set up with people selling their old clothing, weird crafts, and other random
ANYWAY, back to Friday. So, now I'm in a car, at night, about to embark on my 3.5 hour windy-ass journey to Wanaka... or not actually to Wanaka, but to a town right near by called Lake Hawea. I cannot express the wonderfulness of sleeping in a bed with an electric blanket, clean and comfortable [this is particularly due to the fact that my past week has been filled with sleeping in a sandy bed, which was the product of a cave party and a lazy person who doesn't like making beds [and particularly due to the fact that this home [Cmac's] was awesome]]. Before sleep, Ricky Gervais was properly introduced to me. I'm a fan.
Saturday started slower than it should've been [hard to leave the comfort of someone else's home], but we made it up to Treble Cone to go skiing. I should mention that I haven't been skiing since I was about 12 years old, and wasn't too good at it then, and didn't quite enjoy it either. Nonetheless, I figured it would only be appropriate to incorporate skiing into my stay in New Zealand, and managed to not scare off Cmac with my many warnings. As four-year-olds were whizzing down the mountain with the skis that they owned, since it was such an integral part of their lifestyle, I cocked my head in pompous thought. psh, of course I can do that. The first run was the stupid baby's-first-skiing trip. Piece. of. cake, though it definitely did dawn upon me that my ability to stop
Off I was, speeding down the mountain, comfortable in my moves [whizzing enough to even have my hat fly off at a moment, though too incapable of stopping to have gotten it myself [don't worry. twas retrieved]]. A chunk had passed before I fell on my bum. No sweat, aside from my lack of coordination in trying to get up with my skis still on. My confidence was not yet shattered [cough. foreshadowing. cough], and I continued on. A particularly bumpy little moment came before me, and as I could not muster up the ability to stop, my fear took over. I rode over a bump, lost balance, and hit my head. I hit my head. Now, laying on the ground, confused about how I hit my head [threw my goggles off into the distance, lost my ski, etc]. I seem to have turned backwards, and fell onto myself. Classy. I was a little shook up, but sorta-kinda-slowly got up and kept moving.... until I got to another part that looked wary. And when I say that I could see the bottom, I mean I could literally see the bottom. Like, not at all far. With pep talks from Cmac, and friendly faces from people face planting in front of me, 45 minutes of waiting seemed to pass like nothing.... that's a lie. we were both sweating incredibly, melting under the perfect sunshine of a beautiful day. Confidence had disappeared, and it took me forever to finally make my way down.
Regardless, I had a good time and will try to ski again before the end of the semester, hopefully coming with a bit more confidence, though I tend to blame the slope. What the hell kind of jump is that, from easy-ass drive way skiing on the bunny hill, to fucking mountainous terrifying-ness on the 'easiest route down.' blasphomy.
We wandered around Wanaka, since the day was young with my desire to leave, and prayed on adorable children in bathtowels and heaps of ducks. Picked up food for the supermarket, including munchies for later, and went to the new home of Hawea.
For the first time in far too long, I took a bath, followed by the greatest shower I've had in a while. As happy as I expressed I was with the electric blanket, I'm drooling thinking about my shower.
That night we sipped on beers and watched a movie I had fondly remembered, Synechdoche, NY. I thought it was weird, but man, watching it again just upped the level of weirdness of the movie.
Yarn after yarn was spun, and most of a block of cheese disappeared.
Sunday we hung out a bit, and waited for the longest dishwashing cycle to exist, and then head back to Dunedin. The car ride, like the one on the way there, was filled with my ridiculous story telling [due to the aforementioned locked radio], various fast food, and much enjoyment. We stopped in Alex to get a blender, which I didn't get because it was expensive as hell, and then stopped again in Roxburgh for a roxburger and then apples.
The danger of my driving increased as the night fell, but we made it home alive; a close to a wonderful weekend.
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