To Otorohanga, Waikato Country

Last day in Te Puke was eventful it seemed. I saw a lawyer about the feasibility of pursuing the road contractors for leaving that gravel hazard in the road. Not surprisingly I won't get anywhere. But it's the principle. Surprisingly I have lost an edge of confidence when cornering on roads which might have gravel. But that makes me even more careful.


I went to buy flowers for my hosts that afternoon and ended up speaking some Russian. I spotted the flower seller's accent, and had to ask. I wasn't brave enough to just start speaking in case she was from Poland or something. That would have been bad politics. She had been in NZ for 7 years, so was as unused to speaking Russian as I have become. I even had to prompt her with vocab!

Then on the way home I got honked at from behind in a traffic queue. The animated gesticulator turned out to be pointing enthusiastically at my Buzz Lightyear. I twigged and expressed a laugh (wearing a helmet you have to be just as animated to express anything through a visor). A few seconds later he honked again. Still excited about my Buzz Lightyear, he produced one of his own from somewhere inside. His was only 4 inches, and wouldn't have played the sound effects. Some people just don't have it.

Unfortunately nor do I, because between that moment, visiting the supermarket and returning home, some low-life stole my Buzz Lightyear mascot and with it the flag pole and Union Jack. I only noticed the following day as I was leaving town. That put me into a disgruntled and annoyed frame of mind. I reckon it was the girls in the car next to me as I parked in the supermarket car park. They were eyeing up something as I strode from the bike. Apparently it wasn't me, but my cartoon look-a-like. I hope she gives it to her kid... then again, I hope she doesn't. "Here, sonny, have this Buzz Lightyear I stole from some tourist..." Hardly a good example.

So, the Te Puke experience was good, marred overall by hazardous gravel, a broken hand and a stolen space hero. Not to mention the flag. I have a reserve mascot in my bags in Wellington and the flag will be replaced. Maybe a Welsh Dragon.. for a bit of originality. Because I have realised, to my surprise, that British is just not that different. I expected to stand out like in America. It will give me an excuse to use my Welsh accent. Not that the Kiwi's will be able to spot it. One guy yesterday asked me if I was German. Nein. You are ze veakest link, auf wiedersen...

The Swiss-French couple at the hostel were nice. We conversed a little, I used a few French words, and wished my dad was there to help me with his shouted Franglais and special hand signals. The other guest was an American lady with bent hips, who evidently was a cyclist. I arrived at the hostel to find her mid-discussion with the Maori host who couldn't get a word in edgeways, about the politics of America, the merits of war in Iraq and the future of Bush. She was very circumspect sbout the whole thing. Quite widely read and certainly not a Bush supporter. As I sat writing my notes for the day's travel, she went out to fix a wing mirror. I wondered at asking if she had fallen in gravel. Perhaps that's how she bent her hips?

I was slightly envious of the feeling she must have of achievement. She would have cycled miles to be there. I felt short changed, all the poorer for not having exerted myself much that day, after a short trip on the bike. Thoughts flourished for a moment of how I might trade the motorbike for a bicycle. I'd get fit and have an even more organic experience of the country. Then reality returned and I snapped off some more chocolate to go with the biscuits I had just eaten. I really should get more exercise...