Of Kauri, Steptoe and Son and the New President

What day is it in Blighty, I check the Blackberry and discover they're catching up and it is in fact Monday. Been Monday here all day so far! Last day in Piahia (convinced it was named by a geezer from Wigan with the Pie Here pronounciation) . We grab breakfast at Hansons (another plate of Blueberry pancakes for me) and then head. Destination ultimately is back to the New President in Auckland but we head via Waipoua Forest (where we visit Tane Mahutu - but it's pissing with rain so we don't tramp anywhere else), the Dargaville Museum and the Kauri Museum. On the Dargaville Museum front we're the first people who've been in all day when we arrive there around 11. 00. Odd place, it's like the Steptoe and Son of the Museum world, looks like the town has emptied it's collective cupboards and brought 'em up. There's redundant toys, medical equipment, musical instruments, cups galore, a fascinating exhibition on Kauri Gum which makes more sense of that gig to me which is useful later. It isn't slick but I like that kind of place and who'd have thought there was such a large Dalmation population in the area (no not the dogs but people from the former Yugoslavia). Cal enjoys it. Lunch is taken in Dargaville itself, not the best culinary experience of the trip so far. Monst unimpressed in the extreme. I guess sometimes you get lucky other times you don't. The Kauri Museum is at the opposite end of the Museum scale, it is slick, very slick and none the worse for it. It fills the gaps left by the Dargaville experience but the Dargaville gig make more sense of the Kauri gum. Good combination on the same day. It also makes up for the Dargaville culinary experience with good food and drink. Arrive in Auckland by about five and sort out the room back at the New President. Get sent out to grab some web time to send an e-mail about the balloon trip and that's where I'm now, in a bright orange room with frantic tapping going on about me. Next stop food and an early night. Tomorrow brings one of our longest drives as we kick off the day at Waitomo to visit the gloworm caves and from their to Rotorua.

Of Sleep, Midnight Feasts and the Jam Sandwich Question

Cal's Jam sandwiches pay off. On arrival in both Australia and New Zealand Monst being a decent, honest and trustworthy individual felt moved to declare there existence at the security checks. Probably the best policy but I'd've taken on the role of international jam sarnie smuggler myself. Still uneaten when we got here and with a flaked Cal in the bed they looked destined to be the furthest travelled uneaten sarnies in the business. Cal meanwhile has woken up, at 3.00 am, 4.00 am and 5.00 am and applied the Bagpuss principle. Last time it's only me who wakes and the result of Cal stating he's hungry is the consumption of the Sarnies in some desparate midnight feast situation.

Meanwhile I am now awake and psyching myself for today's bungee jump.

Monst and Cal are on a mission to source a car seat for Cal, he needs a booster to be able to see out the window. I wander off rediculously early for my bungee jump, mainly so I can find the offices of AJ Hackett in good time and have time to grab a coffee and chill. Grab a copy of the New Zealand Herald, it's like a large version of the Bolton Evening News and nip to one of the many Starbucks around. The sport naturally focus' on the Rugby but Netball gets a look in to along with racing and golf.

Wander round taking photies a plrnty on a misty morning. Get kinda lost looking for Westhaven Drive and resort to a bait shop for directions. They try flogging me a fishing rod in a jokey way suggesting I could give it a go while jumping. I mutter things about worm dangling. I enjoy the walk. Ask for further directions in the ominously titled Sitting Duck Cafe and find the Hackett Office. Wander round and find the gaff. Marginal complication, no jumps until the fog clears. They offer to run me back to Viaduct or suggest the Sitting Duck. I opt for the latter and try to contact Monst. The old girl I asked for directions asks if I decided not to jump. Explain it's useful to be able to see boats coming (this answers an earlier query of mine that I hadn't voiced - you jump when there aren't boats coming). Grab a coffee and am stunned by the aray of what look to me like the most amazing home made cakes. Resist the temptation. Nice buzz about the Sitting Duck, worth sitting in. I enjoy being able to just relax. Should have dragged Cal here an old girl has just received the largest stack of pancakes I've seen. Nice place they seem happy for you to hang around doing little in the way of using the facilities. I have little to read having been through the New Zealand Herald earlier (alarmingly find myself scanning for health articles!) Then I remember my encounter with a Hare Krishna rep yesterday. He caught me at a moment where I was knackered in the extreme and when he started on about the Bible's expunging of the concept of re-incarnation (was it ever there) and asked me my opinion of religion, I unfortunately told him. Dunno how many people he has to deal with that tell him '.... And don't get me on the subject of predestination'. Mind you I doubt he gets many punters that are that bothered by 17th century religous attitudes and beliefs. Anyway he gave me in return for a nominal donation a copy of 'Beyond Birth and Death', it's summat to read....

Message comes through from Monst and we arrange to meet at the Maratime Museum later. Think Cal will enjoy it, Monst certainly will. Good news is she's sourced a car seat and flask.

Bungee jumping, the most bizarre thing. Things I'm not expecting - the fear of not jumping is bigger than the fear of jumping. The full story begins with the bondage scene at Hacketts, climbing into the harness shows how my sense of balance is wrecked. The piss poor jokes show the tension. The weather is just lifting and there are questions about whether we jump or not. Then there is the walk along the underside of the bridge, you get clipped to a wire, you're about to jump off the bloody thing but safety dictates you clip on to climb it. Actually the whole thing is incredibly safety conscious, all carabiners and safety ropes. When we get to the pod (it looks like it's been nicked from a stray airship) there is a predetermined jump order. A geezer called Alan jumps first and makes an impressive job of it. I jump third. As my legs get strapped into the harness that'll connect to the Bungee I get some time to ponder will I/should I back out, do I really not believe in any deities. Jump first go with a smidge of hesitation and the sensation is nothing like I expect. I wxpect it to feel like the dreaded twitch in the night where you feel like you're falling in your sleep. This has no sensation of fall other than the water coming at you somewhat fast. I also expect the bounces to be jerky, they're smooth. Mind you I'm busy counting bounces because four in I need to release myself, so maybe that keeps my mind busy. Credit to Lynton who's wife didn't tell him she'd bought him a jump for his birthday and didn't tell him until they arrived at the airport. Nice, couple I liked 'em.

Post-bungee get the T-shirt and am instructed to meet the folks across the water at Devonport where they've visited a second world war battery, having spent the morning at the Maritime Museum. Inspired by this Cal asked to go on a boat. Subsequently they've gone to a play park. Cal has had a huge breakfast and didn't want any lunch. Monst is starving and we head to a chippy where Monst eats hoki and chips, I munch a cheese toastie, Cal nicks fish and chips. Good they were too. Nip to the local record shack and locate a fine NZ rack and come away with 'Submarine Bells' which Flying Nun have re-released. Looks like the indies are faves to stock NZ music, odd.

Home, all knackered, Monst does a wash, I fetch food and Cal does his scrapbook and kips. I want too post food but have a dryer to attend to.

Boy in the Bubble

I don't have a mid-air blog option so a notebook suffices until I can get at technology. It's quaint and old fashioned but kinda works.

So the plane comes equipped with the usual long haul gear of pillows, headphones and blankets. LCD screens provide the entertainment in the form of film/TV/games. More of that later.

Cal has some sort of junior fun pack shoved at him and I'm kind of thinking so far so airline until food comes around. They give Cal a child friendly meal, a meal he eats negating the need for the pile of jam sandwiches that like Blue Peter I prepared earlier. This impresses me more than a little.

Of the entertainment, there are the usual kids blockbusters, 'Curious George' and 'Ice Age II' but I opt for the classic 'Young Frankenstein'. The only problem is it makes me laugh out loud, a faux pas on any form of transport you don't control yourself. Actually this whole entertainment thing is the boon and bane of modern travel, you can sit in your own personal space so easily but you lose the social conversation with the poor sod sat next to you. I'm sure Jo who is also on her way to New Zealand is more than a little relieved she can escape conversation with me beyond a few pleasantries and to ask me to shift because she needed the bog.

The notebook itself does promote conversation with the old girl behind Monst who has the same model. Turns out she's Ida's boss. Small world or what. Can't escape the NHS anywhere.

02.45 GMT and I climb into the Notpod for a little Goldrush. Nice.

Arrived safely in Dubai, we hit a buffet breakfast in which pork is noticibly absent. I wasn't aware that beef bacon was feasible as an option and having eaten it it should perhaps be a culinary experiment left alone. The veal sausages were OK though.

Stop here is for a couple of hours. Enough time for the Dubai airport shopping experience which we skip and a quick change of clothing following an extremely welcome shower at the leisure club of the hotel that sits in departures. The power shower is better than the massage chairs of Manchester. If you find yourself travelling through Dubai for $13 you get clean and pummeled by the jet of water. Much revived by the experience.

Here's summat I hadn't bargained on, a stop in Melbourne. The planes. A bit like a local bus, goes all round the world on its way to where you want to be. It's now twelve hours to Melbourne, the stop in Melbourne is to change crews and presumably refuel. This is probably as well because I don't fancy a swim with knackered cabin crew throwing hissy fits all over the place.

Having previously slagged off the whole personal entertainment thing I now make the most of the vast choice I have so chill to Miles Davis' 'Kind of Blue' (yes I know I usually mutter things about jazz being musical masturbation but inconsistency with music I'd fine).

Behind me on the plane sits Major Dennis Bloodknock who is a frequent flyer to Australia usually with BA/Quantas. Apparently they changed their frequent flyer programme (should read the Tesco points story available from the Fade Library) and he lost out big style. Somebody told him Emirates were OK but he's not impressed. From what I overhear this is due to the security demand he remove his belt which led to his trousers falling down. He's generally not impressed with Dubai which when he was soldierin' was a nice little desert kingdom and didn't pander to nancy tourists.

Seating on this leg of the journey is awkward. We're at the back of the plane at the point where the central seating drops from four seats to three. Everythings is therefore slightly off centre, the arm rests are rigid and don't move so sleep must come in an upright position. Distinct lack of leg room to, even for a short arse like me. Still 11.19 hours to Melbourne, yipee!

5519 miles to Melbourne and I watch 'Kinky Boots', I remember the doc it was based on. Predictably I enjoy it as a film even though it retreads the 'Full Monty' ground. Apparently we're somewhere near the Maldives about which I know nothing. I do however know there are no black sheep on Mauritius which is nowhere near where we are now.

For years the punchline to a joke about durex machines, I now listen to Johnny Cash. We're only 8 hours from Melbourne. Some where in the Indian Ocean nearby is Gan. Deep joy!

Down to the last three hours to Melbourne, feels like its been that way for at least three hours. My head is all over the place trying to make sense of what time it is now. We are due to arrive at Melbourne around 05.30, my watch says it is 23.59 and apparently its around 4 in the afternoon in the UK. Time for tea then! At least we are now somewhere over Australia between Bunbury and Albany.

So we visit Australia, all be it an airport. It's like visiting London and getting no further than Heathrow! Raises an interesting question, is an airport soverign territory or do you have to clear customs to have visited a place? Grab coffee and some travel pillows.

Flight to Auckland a mere three hour trip. I kip most of the way. Clear customs with some of the friendliest officials I've ever dealt with. Sort the car and upgrade from a Ka to a Focus. Monst does a top job of navigating us to the New President. Sort out parking and then while Cal and Monst kip, a very knackered me goes in search of places to grab food later and to the Maritime Museum as the schedule suggests. Nice gaff, need to bring Cal here tomorrow. Grab food at the Mai Thai as a takeaway.

Aaargh! Boing, Boing, Boing!

No going back now, I've booked my Bungy jump for around 9 am on the 4th of August so that's that sorted. Much holiday planning round ours tonight!

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