Solitaire

So, I felt like my last post was a bit lame. I'm not saying this one will be any better, but I might try a bit harder. Kk, here goes.

Flew down to Queenstown on Saturday. I'm currently 100% homeless, 90% friendless and 50% penniless at the moment. As a result, I am a FREEBIRD, wooooo, who can do whatever the hell she likes. I can't tell you what a joy it's been these last few days to do what I want, when I want, how I want. Of course, I can tell you exactly how freaking tedious it is to have to tell everyone, all the time, what I do, where I've come from, what my plans are... Jeez. Maybe I'll make pamphlets. I like that word.

Any snooch, you've got to weigh these things off against each other. I had a pretty good run the first three or four nights, meeting people with exceptional ease, and cool people too, who were forthcoming and talkative and like, only 5% irritating. I also really liked Queenstown, getting a bit over excited and doing everything you can do - assuming jumping out of a plane/off a bridge/down a river/from tree to tree isn't your cup of tea (as far as I'm concerned, it's coffee all round please).

After that things slowed up a bit, but I've still had a good time. I have to say, world, Milford Sound is overrated, but that won't stop busloads of tourists bussing in every bussing day for like, forever. They've been coming for over a 100 years. Today I hitched back to Q'town from there, which was interesting, my first real hitching experience.

First man: 'are you not afraid to hitch hike?' (Should I be??? I kept my pen knife in my hoody pouch in case he returned from the farm he dropped me outside of with a shot gun and a shovel. Yup. Always be prepared. Failing that, I'd have to hope he had a nut allergy and hit him up with my trail mix.)

Second couple: 'you'll have to share the back with the dog.' Joy. Slobber.

Third couple: 'bonjour! nous sommes... erm, traveling, er... a Queenstown!'
Me: 'Great! Tres bien!'
Lady: 'D'accord. Allons y.'
They were pretty cool, actually, and we had a two hour conversation in Franglais. The husband n'est pas speaking the Englishes, but he did take his collection of short stories to libraries round NZ to leave them there, lest you rock up and realise you'd left Bertrand of Lyon's book at home (or at least, I presume that was why.)

And now I'm off to meet up with Rachel, Nick and JJ and enjoy not explaining myself and not having to stand in a cold, windy field with my thumb in the air, getting frost bite and keeping myself amused by trying to remember all 36 of my classmates from when I was four. I only ever got to 32.

Speak soon, People Who Know Me But Are Far Away. x