I would like to take this time to complain about a camping trip we have not yet been on. Karl and I are going to hike the Kepler Trek and sleep in one the Department of Conservation huts (which sounded fine until I found out at that we were not the only campers spending the night...nothing like a hut full of smelly strangers wearing ugly pants!) . I had to buy actual hiking pants. ARE THEY MADE OF GOLD? I spent a $100.00 (that is after 50% off) on the most hideous pair of pants in the world, or at least the most hideous pair in my closet. They have elastic in the waistband and I'm supposed to wear them in public. Great. Does anyone know why on Earth I would need 9 pockets and three zippers on one pair of pants?
In the end I too will be a smelly stranger in ugly pants. I'll get back to you.
Okay, so, we're back. Just as I suspected, smelly strangers in ugly pants myself included. Camping was reminiscent of being grounded, or those family trips my parents took my sisters and me on in junior high where we were supposed to get along out in the middle of nowhere North Carolina with nothing to do...except fight over nothing it turned out. Anyway, they turn the lights out at 10:00 pm in these huts when the sun is still up and everyone just goes to bed. The rain and sand flies (which bite, by the way) kept Karl & me in the hut, sitting there like jackasses trying to read in the dusky light. We gave up and went to bed. The huts are allegedly a step up from tent camping as they have mattresses on the bunks, which sounds great but the mattresses (aka glorified yoga mats) are coated in plastic. Every time one moves, all other campers know about it. Of course, I suddenly cannot help wiggling as if I suddenly came down with restless leg syndrome. I think the other campers hate the snoring German more than me, Madame Twitchy.
I hope you all get a good laugh out of these photos. Like the pants?
I know it has been some time since I've chimed in. But at this point Katie, believe it or not, is over reacting. I feel I have to rebut her statements. Most of the reports are true. Its true that we went "on a camping trip." It started with a grueling 90 minute hike that had a daunting incline totaling 50 feet. The hut, which along with soft (but yes, plastic) mats, has running water, electricity, gas stoves and flushing toilets. When we arrived there after the walk (which was burdened by the forest covered path, light breezes and singing birds), we relaxed along the shore of the beautiful Lake Manapouri. Along with all the other hardships, Katie and I shared a bottle of wine on the deck of the hut listening to a light rain that came through in the evening. It was so oppressive that we had no option but to stay the night. Our room was shared by three other campers, all were dressed in everyday casual attire, not the yuppie, zip-off pants that both Katie and myself were wearing. Oh and they did smell... of soap and deodorant (remember, bathrooms with running water...) The other man in the room did snore, but Katie did not realize this until I told her two days later. After such a dreadful night, we walked one more hour further into the interior of this hellish scene. More trees, more lake views, hideous walks along creeks and towering mountains surrounding us. After all of this we retreated back to the closest town of Te Anau for a gourmet meal and drinks. It may have been the worst idea I've ever come up with in my life. Katie will be scared for the rest of her life. Enjoy the pictures.
We are off on Holiday next month to Port Douglas, Australia to snorkel the Great Barrier Reef and see the Daintree Rainforest, oh and to stay in a posh hotel with a bar in the pool. Hooray for bars in the pool! In preparation for this trip I thought it would be fun to get a new bathing suit (men's bathing suits are called togs FYI). I tricked Karl into helping me by asking him to bring me a pair of shorts back to the dressing room. So easily fooled! Then, I tried on 14 bikinis and told him to pretend he was Ali and just let me talk about what was wrong with each suit from every angle. (Remember, it is always the suit that is wrong.) Karl was very sweet and very careful. These are not useful attributes in the bikini shopping department. I need honesty, and an elongated mirror that makes me look tall. Is that so much to ask?
Here's a fun Kiwi anti-shop lifting tactic; they pin the top of the bathing suit to the bottom. It may be to prevent people from swapping sizes, which is just rude and humiliating. Who wants to be the lady with the top or bottom a couple sizes too big or too small? Not smart marketing.
Anyway, it is super annoying to try on a top with the bottoms pinned to the middle of one's chest. "How does this one look?" "Um, really stupid actually, is that a matching hanky?."
This photo is irrelevant to any of the above rantings. I just crack up every time I see these signs for bargain horse shit. This is one of my favorites.
Cheers,
Katie & Karl
Click HERE to see more pics, not as many as the last blog don't worry.
