Queenstown is the NZ capital for adrenalin junkies.
I know this because on the way in our pilot decided that simply landing at an airstrip that is situated with mountains on three sides while being criss-crossed by helicopters and other light aircraft simply wasn’t enough excitement for his terrified passengers. Instead he decided to come in at way above the normal speed and bring the plane to a screeching halt with metres to spare, probably while wearing shades and waggling his thumb and little finger out of the window shouting “Awesome, bro!”
After sobbing and kissing the tarmac for several minutes we headed into the town itself via the shuttle service. This was also an interesting experience as our driver was apparently so bad that they had to have a back up driver on board telling him where he was going wrong. As the bus lurched and careened to our hotel, the back up guy offered such helpful bon mots as “just start off in second gear”, “don’t bother with the handbrake” and “watch out for that Mumakil”.
Disembarking the vehicle as it thundered down the hill to the town centre mowing down everything in its path we elected to check in and then head off to explore the delights of Queenstown. This would take about 40 minutes, including check in time, the conversation with the receptionist from Kirkstall and the five minute walk into town. Had the place been a Freddie Mercury style themepark (as I had earlier feared) I feel the situation would have been improved.
A small town by anyone’s standards, Queenstown is the home of the bungy, which was invented by a suicidal bloke who wanted to keep his options open when he realised he was living in Queenstown. It is also one of the few places you can stand on a plank on top of a tipped over cylinder and try to balance. This is genuinely one of the attractions on a small funfair that is situated near the cable cars and wouldn’t look out of place at the Craggy Island fair. Idiot pointing is also popular and I indulged in a spot of this while watching the luge track on the nearby mountain.
The first thing I noticed was the scenery. It is simply stunningly beautiful.
Lake Wakatipu (despite drowning a couple of Frenchman last month) is clear, blue and inviting. The mountains surrounding the area look straight out of Lord Of The Rings and the town itself looks clean and well maintained, especially the park where you can play Frisbee golf. No, really, Frisbee golf.
The second thing I noticed were the car pricks. Boy racers took great delight in revving their souped up bangers up and down the hill into town all the time forgetting the golden rule of vehicular style…
It doesn't matter how low your car is, how deep the bass goes, how piercing the headlights are or how shiny your rims may be, if you are a white guy with 50 Cent pumping out of the stereo then you may as well just cut your losses and kill yourself.
Like the commonly stated fact about rats, you are never more than 10ft away from a Brit in New Zealand. They are everywhere, having fled the hellholes of the UK (Preston, Leeds, Penzance, Crewe etc.) for a better life in the fires of Mordor.
Queenstown is full of them, mainly in the bars and cafes, all of which seem to be constantly hiring. In fact, I am almost certain that the entire serving staff resigned and were replaced in the 40 minutes it took us to eat our pizza.
Despite this short relationship, the people of the town seem genuinely friendly and inquisitive about visitors. Much like the people of Birkenhead only without the unpleasant end result of a mugging and subsequent hospital visit.
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