Nelson
30 November 2004 (actually being written on the 30 November 2004!)
I woke up this morning still coughing a little, but not as much as yesterday. Still coughing up stuff, though. I dosed myself with all my drugs, then went out to have breakfast. I found it all laid out for me in front of a window overlooking the city. It was a pretty view, but I was by myself. How is it that the last B&B I stay in on all my trips always leaves me completely alone? The same thing happened last time I was in Australia and in Brisbane last. It’s not that the B&B isn’t nice; it is! But I stay in B&Bs because I want interaction with people! Regardless, this morning, I grabbed my travel books and started leafing through them. I absolutely had to plan my Abel Tasman-ing and it became obvious that I wasn’t going to get any help with that from Debbie (innkeeper) since she wasn’t around. I was rather annoyed about that. I was hoping that she would have asked me last night what I wanted to do while I was here, to help me plan it. I guess I got spoiled in Cairns last time when the innkeeper there went ahead and booked all my tours. So first up on the docket today was to make sure I was going to Abel Tasman tomorrow. I worried that it might be too late to get on a kayaking trip, since I recall reading how you have to book in advance, confirm the day before, etc. And, although I had bookmarked Julie S.’s recommendation of which group to go with, I have no internet access here. I suppose I could have booted Firefox anyway to try to find my target from that bookmark, just so I’d know what it was called. But that was a last resort. For at least the sixth time on this trip, I used my Google Desktop Search, and found cached some documents I’d reviewed about the different options for tours from the company. At the bottom of each was the 800 number. I called at 9:30, asking if it was too late to get on a tour for tomorrow. The woman laughed. No, it was fine. It was too late for today, certainly. (All their tours leave at 8:30.) She asked which tour I wanted to take. I asked her which she recommended, the “Mad Mile” or the tour that went out to the Tonga seal colony. She said her recommendation would depend based on the tides, so she checked the tides, and then came back and said the seal tour would be her pick for tomorrow. So I booked that. When I got off the phone, I was quite pleased with myself. It’s one of those taking initiative things that I have a hard time with, but I think I do better when I’m totally by myself because then I just HAVE to do it.
The deal with the tour is that the bus will pick me up in Nelson at 7 AM. This means I have to be at the right place by 6:50 or so. Ugh. Early. And, as of this morning, I didn’t know where the right place was or how long it would take me to get there. They will drive us to Abel Tasman (90 minutes, I think), provide us all equipment, training, and guides, and off we go. Picnic lunch is included. Bus back. We arrive in Nelson around 6:30 PM. Then, probably, I go collapse.
I finished getting ready for the morning and set off to walk to Nelson, feeling pretty good, and marginally healthy. I was cautiously optimistic that I might be starting to get better. I timed the walk to see how long I’d need to set aside for tomorrow. It took me 20 minutes to get to the bus station. I went in and confirmed that this was actually the only bus station on the street (just in case). It was. They again had InterCity pamphlets, and again, I realized I didn’t have a way from Nelson to Picton on Thursday to get the ferry. I tried to book the InterCity bus, but again was told it didn’t run that day. When DOES this bus run?! They also wouldn’t or couldn’t give me any information about other bus services, and I realized I didn’t even know the name of the service I’d used on Monday. Try in the information kiosk, the woman said. I walked there and got in line. “Hi,” I said to the woman behind the desk when it was my turn, “I got to Nelson from Picton yesterday on this bus that had a little K in a circle on it…” I cringed; I was feeling ridiculous. I didn’t even know how I’d gotten here. That’s a bad sign. What if that symbol was the brand of the vehicle or something?! I hoped maybe the woman would write me off as a naïve backpacker or something, and then take pity on me and find me a way back to Picton anyway! “Yes, we call that the K bus,” said the woman, laughing. “Great!” I said, pretending I knew that all along, “How do I get it again in the other direction?!” She pulled out a book, and I selected my time – 3:15 PM, arrives in Picton at 5:15. Perfect because my ferry is at 6. I paid her and got my ticket. I was all set. Hooray! Planning. Planning is a good thing. Advance planning that much the better. What did I think I was going to do to get here and back?! What was I thinking?! How lucky I caught that bus yesterday! And good thing I thought, “Gee, how am I going to get back” today and not tomorrow when I’ll be in no state to figure that out, nor should I have to be worrying about it tomorrow when I’m trying to keep my kayak upright.
I spent the rest of the day wandering Nelson. I like it much better than Wellington. The proportion of stores I wanted to browse versus stores I wanted to skip was much better. There were tons of places to look around in, and I spent much of the day buying presents and running up my credit card bill. I stopped to look at necklaces that a woman was selling from a cart on a corner. We started chatting and the woman asked me where I was from. Boston, I said. She said I didn’t have much of an accent. I thought she meant a Boston accent so I said that was because I was raised in upstate New York. No, she said, I thought you were maybe British. (See? I’m not the only one who thinks Down Under accents are just extreme British accents!) She had meant I didn’t have much of an accent compared to her! I laughed. I think I mentioned in this travelogue previously that I had thought I was picking up Chris’ accent, but with Australian intonation. Apparently, I was right. Weird, huh?
(And a bit of a random thought; apologies if I have already said this somewhere – Chris and I had an interesting conversation at one point about how both of us felt that when we were talking to each other, it was if our brains were moving at two different levels. There was the talking part, and then there was another part that was trying to think far enough ahead to rephrase and use words the other person would understand. “It’s a wonder we understand each other at all,” Chris had joked. But she, too, said she would intentionally use words that she’d heard me use if she remembered, just so I’d understand her – for example, she was trying to remember to talk about “intersections” instead of “junctions”. Meanwhile, I was trying to remember to talk of “roundabouts” instead of “rotaries”. When “rotary” did slip out once, Chris had no idea what I was talking about. Had never heard them called that before.)
I bought a crepe from a cart on the corner for lunch, and sat on the cathedral steps enjoying the sun and fine weather and view of the city. Wandered some more, bought some more, then went to a coffee shop, ordered a chai, and spent an hour writing out what will be my last batch of postcards. I think I know too many people. I spent NZ$24 today on cards and stamps!! Then, unable to resist the pull of all the internet cafes, went into one to use the computer. That will be the last you hear from me until Thursday night when I get back to Wellington.
I thought about just going back to the B&B after the internetting, but knew I’d be hungry when I got back if I didn’t go eat something. I started to walk back, randomly chose a street, and walked along it until I found a restaurant that looked promising. Grabbed a seat – you seem to do that in all restaurants here instead of waiting to be seated. Just go sit down and they bring you a menu nearly instantly. I ordered smoked fish and potato cakes with beet coulis and green salad. It was great. The sweetness of the beets complimented the saltiness of the fish cakes. And since the cakes were hot, and the beet sauce was cold…mmm. It was very good. I browsed the magazines there for a while, and then went up to pay. That’s the other thing – your check is never brought to you. When you want to leave, you just get up and go to the register or the bar or wherever, and they know exactly who you are and what you had.
And while I’m talking about differences – Australians seem absolutely addicted to margarine. They use it on everything, often putting it on bread before putting whatever other spread they’re using be it jam, nutella, vegemite, mustard even! Thankfully, New Zealanders don’t seem to have the margarine habit. Butter is used, and with discretion. I like that a lot better. New Zealanders also seem to have “lighter” accents than Australians. I understand them more readily. Or maybe that’s just my ears adapting to my British accent…
I walked back to the B&B, getting slightly lost along the way. Getting into the city is easy – just walk toward the clock tower and cathedral. The B&B isn’t nearly so recognizable from the city! I suddenly wished I had taken a photograph at every corner on my way in this morning so if I looked at them backward, I could retrace my path. Although I had a street map of Nelson, the B&B is just off the edge of it, on a road not shown on the map. I had an idea of which corner in the mountains I thought it was, but the more I realized I had taken a wrong turn, the more disoriented I felt. I did turn around, and start walking back to town to, at worst, reorient in town and try again, but then I saw the field I’d passed this morning and cut across it to get back to where I know I’d been. So that worked and I made it back without further confusion.
I discussed my plans for tomorrow with Debbie’s daughter, explaining I would need breakfast “to go” if that were possible. A few minutes later she came back to my room saying Mike would drive me in so I didn’t have to leave quite so early. I thanked her profusely but didn’t ask the most obvious question – who’s Mike? Guess I’ll find out tomorrow.
I’m looking forward to Abel Tasman and kayaking. It’s one thing I’ve looked forward to from before I left Boston even. I hope it doesn’t disappoint! I don’t think it will. I have no idea what to expect. And I’m also aware I’m looking forward to it because it will completely consume a day. And then the day after, which is Thursday, I head back to Wellington. And the day after that is Friday. The day I go home. I told Glen over IM that next time I want to go away for three weeks, he should remind me two weeks is plenty. “Next time?” he said, “There won’t be a next time. I’m never letting you leave again!” I hope next time, he will be able to come with me.
I can’t believe I go home in three days. And that I’ve been here TWENTY days at this point. That’s an awfully long time.
(Hooray! I’ve caught up in narrations!)
I woke up this morning still coughing a little, but not as much as yesterday. Still coughing up stuff, though. I dosed myself with all my drugs, then went out to have breakfast. I found it all laid out for me in front of a window overlooking the city. It was a pretty view, but I was by myself. How is it that the last B&B I stay in on all my trips always leaves me completely alone? The same thing happened last time I was in Australia and in Brisbane last. It’s not that the B&B isn’t nice; it is! But I stay in B&Bs because I want interaction with people! Regardless, this morning, I grabbed my travel books and started leafing through them. I absolutely had to plan my Abel Tasman-ing and it became obvious that I wasn’t going to get any help with that from Debbie (innkeeper) since she wasn’t around. I was rather annoyed about that. I was hoping that she would have asked me last night what I wanted to do while I was here, to help me plan it. I guess I got spoiled in Cairns last time when the innkeeper there went ahead and booked all my tours. So first up on the docket today was to make sure I was going to Abel Tasman tomorrow. I worried that it might be too late to get on a kayaking trip, since I recall reading how you have to book in advance, confirm the day before, etc. And, although I had bookmarked Julie S.’s recommendation of which group to go with, I have no internet access here. I suppose I could have booted Firefox anyway to try to find my target from that bookmark, just so I’d know what it was called. But that was a last resort. For at least the sixth time on this trip, I used my Google Desktop Search, and found cached some documents I’d reviewed about the different options for tours from the company. At the bottom of each was the 800 number. I called at 9:30, asking if it was too late to get on a tour for tomorrow. The woman laughed. No, it was fine. It was too late for today, certainly. (All their tours leave at 8:30.) She asked which tour I wanted to take. I asked her which she recommended, the “Mad Mile” or the tour that went out to the Tonga seal colony. She said her recommendation would depend based on the tides, so she checked the tides, and then came back and said the seal tour would be her pick for tomorrow. So I booked that. When I got off the phone, I was quite pleased with myself. It’s one of those taking initiative things that I have a hard time with, but I think I do better when I’m totally by myself because then I just HAVE to do it.
The deal with the tour is that the bus will pick me up in Nelson at 7 AM. This means I have to be at the right place by 6:50 or so. Ugh. Early. And, as of this morning, I didn’t know where the right place was or how long it would take me to get there. They will drive us to Abel Tasman (90 minutes, I think), provide us all equipment, training, and guides, and off we go. Picnic lunch is included. Bus back. We arrive in Nelson around 6:30 PM. Then, probably, I go collapse.
I finished getting ready for the morning and set off to walk to Nelson, feeling pretty good, and marginally healthy. I was cautiously optimistic that I might be starting to get better. I timed the walk to see how long I’d need to set aside for tomorrow. It took me 20 minutes to get to the bus station. I went in and confirmed that this was actually the only bus station on the street (just in case). It was. They again had InterCity pamphlets, and again, I realized I didn’t have a way from Nelson to Picton on Thursday to get the ferry. I tried to book the InterCity bus, but again was told it didn’t run that day. When DOES this bus run?! They also wouldn’t or couldn’t give me any information about other bus services, and I realized I didn’t even know the name of the service I’d used on Monday. Try in the information kiosk, the woman said. I walked there and got in line. “Hi,” I said to the woman behind the desk when it was my turn, “I got to Nelson from Picton yesterday on this bus that had a little K in a circle on it…” I cringed; I was feeling ridiculous. I didn’t even know how I’d gotten here. That’s a bad sign. What if that symbol was the brand of the vehicle or something?! I hoped maybe the woman would write me off as a naïve backpacker or something, and then take pity on me and find me a way back to Picton anyway! “Yes, we call that the K bus,” said the woman, laughing. “Great!” I said, pretending I knew that all along, “How do I get it again in the other direction?!” She pulled out a book, and I selected my time – 3:15 PM, arrives in Picton at 5:15. Perfect because my ferry is at 6. I paid her and got my ticket. I was all set. Hooray! Planning. Planning is a good thing. Advance planning that much the better. What did I think I was going to do to get here and back?! What was I thinking?! How lucky I caught that bus yesterday! And good thing I thought, “Gee, how am I going to get back” today and not tomorrow when I’ll be in no state to figure that out, nor should I have to be worrying about it tomorrow when I’m trying to keep my kayak upright.
I spent the rest of the day wandering Nelson. I like it much better than Wellington. The proportion of stores I wanted to browse versus stores I wanted to skip was much better. There were tons of places to look around in, and I spent much of the day buying presents and running up my credit card bill. I stopped to look at necklaces that a woman was selling from a cart on a corner. We started chatting and the woman asked me where I was from. Boston, I said. She said I didn’t have much of an accent. I thought she meant a Boston accent so I said that was because I was raised in upstate New York. No, she said, I thought you were maybe British. (See? I’m not the only one who thinks Down Under accents are just extreme British accents!) She had meant I didn’t have much of an accent compared to her! I laughed. I think I mentioned in this travelogue previously that I had thought I was picking up Chris’ accent, but with Australian intonation. Apparently, I was right. Weird, huh?
(And a bit of a random thought; apologies if I have already said this somewhere – Chris and I had an interesting conversation at one point about how both of us felt that when we were talking to each other, it was if our brains were moving at two different levels. There was the talking part, and then there was another part that was trying to think far enough ahead to rephrase and use words the other person would understand. “It’s a wonder we understand each other at all,” Chris had joked. But she, too, said she would intentionally use words that she’d heard me use if she remembered, just so I’d understand her – for example, she was trying to remember to talk about “intersections” instead of “junctions”. Meanwhile, I was trying to remember to talk of “roundabouts” instead of “rotaries”. When “rotary” did slip out once, Chris had no idea what I was talking about. Had never heard them called that before.)
I bought a crepe from a cart on the corner for lunch, and sat on the cathedral steps enjoying the sun and fine weather and view of the city. Wandered some more, bought some more, then went to a coffee shop, ordered a chai, and spent an hour writing out what will be my last batch of postcards. I think I know too many people. I spent NZ$24 today on cards and stamps!! Then, unable to resist the pull of all the internet cafes, went into one to use the computer. That will be the last you hear from me until Thursday night when I get back to Wellington.
I thought about just going back to the B&B after the internetting, but knew I’d be hungry when I got back if I didn’t go eat something. I started to walk back, randomly chose a street, and walked along it until I found a restaurant that looked promising. Grabbed a seat – you seem to do that in all restaurants here instead of waiting to be seated. Just go sit down and they bring you a menu nearly instantly. I ordered smoked fish and potato cakes with beet coulis and green salad. It was great. The sweetness of the beets complimented the saltiness of the fish cakes. And since the cakes were hot, and the beet sauce was cold…mmm. It was very good. I browsed the magazines there for a while, and then went up to pay. That’s the other thing – your check is never brought to you. When you want to leave, you just get up and go to the register or the bar or wherever, and they know exactly who you are and what you had.
And while I’m talking about differences – Australians seem absolutely addicted to margarine. They use it on everything, often putting it on bread before putting whatever other spread they’re using be it jam, nutella, vegemite, mustard even! Thankfully, New Zealanders don’t seem to have the margarine habit. Butter is used, and with discretion. I like that a lot better. New Zealanders also seem to have “lighter” accents than Australians. I understand them more readily. Or maybe that’s just my ears adapting to my British accent…
I walked back to the B&B, getting slightly lost along the way. Getting into the city is easy – just walk toward the clock tower and cathedral. The B&B isn’t nearly so recognizable from the city! I suddenly wished I had taken a photograph at every corner on my way in this morning so if I looked at them backward, I could retrace my path. Although I had a street map of Nelson, the B&B is just off the edge of it, on a road not shown on the map. I had an idea of which corner in the mountains I thought it was, but the more I realized I had taken a wrong turn, the more disoriented I felt. I did turn around, and start walking back to town to, at worst, reorient in town and try again, but then I saw the field I’d passed this morning and cut across it to get back to where I know I’d been. So that worked and I made it back without further confusion.
I discussed my plans for tomorrow with Debbie’s daughter, explaining I would need breakfast “to go” if that were possible. A few minutes later she came back to my room saying Mike would drive me in so I didn’t have to leave quite so early. I thanked her profusely but didn’t ask the most obvious question – who’s Mike? Guess I’ll find out tomorrow.
I’m looking forward to Abel Tasman and kayaking. It’s one thing I’ve looked forward to from before I left Boston even. I hope it doesn’t disappoint! I don’t think it will. I have no idea what to expect. And I’m also aware I’m looking forward to it because it will completely consume a day. And then the day after, which is Thursday, I head back to Wellington. And the day after that is Friday. The day I go home. I told Glen over IM that next time I want to go away for three weeks, he should remind me two weeks is plenty. “Next time?” he said, “There won’t be a next time. I’m never letting you leave again!” I hope next time, he will be able to come with me.
I can’t believe I go home in three days. And that I’ve been here TWENTY days at this point. That’s an awfully long time.
(Hooray! I’ve caught up in narrations!)
posted by Jen at 8:56 PM
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