Journey to Middle Earth

The Magic of Mordor
I’ve just returned from a splendid journey to the south island of New Zealand, or Mordor in Middle Earth as cyberhobbits may prefer it. New Zealand is banging, as the kids say these days.  Though given I do not fully understand their interpretation of banging - I’m reasonably sure it has nothing to do with carpentry - I will just call New Zealand out as ludicrously amazing. Breathe taken away, etc etc.

You know when people tell you “you have to go to *insert any country that is not in the middle east*, it is amazing"? Well, you have to go to New Zealand. I am not kidding around; if you are into babbling brooks, alps, glaciers and hobbitses, you MUST go.

Since that Tolkien dragon fantasy book series, Bossman of the Bracelets or whatever, was turned into a movie trilogy and filmed in the NZ alps, the poor country has really struggled with being typecast as a land of jaw-dropping, breathtaking scenery.  While New Zealand laps up the attention, their rightful punishment is bothersome holiday-makers and day-trippers by the fast and furious busload.

The scenery is nauseating - pass me a bucket - and if you stare at it long enough it will ruin any other scenery you will ever see in your life in other countries that aren’t as pretty. Thanks a bunch, New Zealand.  But it’s true; I now can’t look at a mountain without comparing it to NZ’s remarkable alps. The alps are actually called The Remarkables, and it really is a toss-up between Switzerland and this place in my humble opinion.

I can’t stand Lorraine
As beautiful as New Zealand is, it didn’t stop fucking raining for the eight days I was there. When it wasn’t raining torrentially, it was sprinkling annoying drizzle into one's face. However, it just meant that I had the Mordor experience rather than the Hobbiton experience, which was just a little bit more amazing.

I’ve never had the best relationship with rain. As an Aussie I’m supposed to get all excited whenever it pelts down because of our droughts and bushfires and other annoying factors that come into play when you live in a fucking desert, but I really don’t care for rain.

And when you hate on the rain those people who own “gardens” that they have to “water” “every day” get all cranky. Never mind that rain literally falls from the sky, these people think Australia is going to plunge into a psychotic apocalyptic nightmare where rogue water bands will kill us all just for a drop of it.

So when you go to NZ, you’ll need to get yourself some type of self-contained breathing apparatus – yes, SCUBA gear. Because it rains lots.

I haven’t even started my tour debrief of Cardrona, Wanaka, Queenstown, Franz Josef, Fox Glacier and Hamner Springs, so I'll have to capture all that in another post.