We last left our heroes stranded in Queenstown...
Ryan and I are out of Queenstown! After 10 days, several visits back to the mechanic (who we are pretty sure doesn't understand how cars work), a car swap with the mechanic, a visit to the Citizen's Advice Bureau, a FOURTH car, and a partridge in a pear tree, we are freeeeeee.
But back to where we left off last time - the part arrived, the mechanic supposedly put said part in Barney (our car), and we hit the road and 10km later Barney overheated. We drove back to the mechanic, he said that the first mechanic to had told us our car was f***ed was probably correct and that it needed a new engine. We got the mechanic texting our Brazilian cleaning lady in Portuguese trying to explain that she needed to pay us back. Unfortunately, she and her boyfriend do not have the money and told the mechanic to put a new engine in the car and they would pay him back down the line.
The next day, the mechanic told us he had recently purchased a car for $1000 and would give us this "new" car in exchange for ours, since it might be a while before our new (used) engine arrived. We decided to take the opportunity to get out of Queenstown as quickly as humanly possible, and went on a little vacation.
Rules about the new car:
1. No naming. So far, naming my cars has resulted in their imminent death and destruction.
2. No talking about the car breaking. Bad luck. Duh.
3. Be nice to it. Check oil, feed it gas, etc. (rule 3 is newer, see below)
Day 1 with new car: new car won't start first thing in the morning. Eventually, she starts and we head out to go check out some glaciers on the west coast. A little disconcerting but we decide to obey rule 2 and push on.
Day 2 with the car: new car won't start while in the glacier parking lot. We end up hitching a ride back to the hostel with a tour bus. Later in the day we walk out to the car and it magically starts. We take it to a mechanic who plays with it for a long time, points out we are missing some essential parts under the hood, but overall cannot figure out what is wrong. He charges us $150 and sends us on our way. The car still isn't being awesome. We decide to head back to Queenstown.
Day 4 with the car: after giving it a day off, the car dies en route to Queenstown. A stranger stops for us (of course - it still is New Zealand, after all) and gives us a ride back to town. The car has to be towed over 40km. The mechanic is enchanted by cars, teaches us some interesting things about cars in general: "Cars run on a series of explosions. It really is a miracle they run at all!" He charges us $425 for the tow, labor, and a jug of oil. Apparently our car loves oil and gas and goes through lots of those things. We may have been out of both of them.
We get back to Queenstown, and eventually find out that no one has money for a new engine. The mechanic spent "all" of his money on this new car for us and the Brazilians still don't have any money. We leave Queenstown and decide to push North to try to make it to at least ONE of our WWOOFing stops. A woman at the Citizen's Advice Bureau tells me to put all this car stuff behind me and leave the car on the side of the road if it breaks again. We are almost back to the North end of the South Island when we stop for lunch in the middle of nowhere.
Ryan locks the keys in the car.
We call AA (much like AAA in the states) and it will be $195 for them to register us and get out to help us today. Luckily, the chef where we have stopped for lunch is very good at getting into his car when he locks his keys in the car - something he has done five or six times (I interpret this as he has stolen five or six cars). Using a coat hanger and having Ryan hold the door slightly open with pliers, he catches the hanger on the lock and manually unlocks the door.
We have now safely arrived in Picton and will be taking the Ferry to the North Island tomorrow (if the car starts in the morning).
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Vacation
If you asked me in my last blog post where I would be on May 17, I would have leafed through my calendar and responded: "Oamaru - Ryan and I will be pruning plum trees for this family!" I would then pull up their photo on the WWOOFing webpage and show you a family and their dog.
We aren't in Oamaru.
After selling Moncho, my first kiwi car, to a coworker to get out of repairing the windshield, I purchased Emmy the Emina. Emmy is (or should I say, was) a 2003 Toyota minivan a bunch of my coworkers bought together for harvest. She seemed like a sturdy enough vehicle, and she runs on diesel (MUCH cheaper here). The only weird thing about Emmy: she is a Toyota Emina. As in someone sat down in their marketing meeting and said "Hey guys, I think we should call this car an Emina." Then, someone said, "Yeah! That's a really good idea!" and proceeded to put the name on a bunch of cars. I was ready to love Emmy unconditionally, regardless of her terrible model name. We drove from Blenheim down to Christchurch to drop off her previous owners at Jucy Rentals to get their camper van for their kiwi adventure. From there, we headed to Queenstown to meet up with Ryan. For those of you who aren't familiar with driving around New Zealand - it is much larger than it appears on maps. Blenheim to Christchurch took us at least 4 hours. Probably 5. I stopped counting because I was getting so discouraged that Christchurch is less than halfway to Queenstown. Around 7pm, Emmy and I were three hours out of Christchurch and still had about three hours to go before we were done driving. Emmy was struggling up some hills, but we were making awesome time, regardless of the rain, because there were no other cars on the road. Then, Emmy died. She overheated really quickly, then all the lights on the dashboard came on, and she turned herself off. Forever.
We coasted to the side of the road, and I began to assess the situation. There were no visible lights anywhere. My cell phone was almost dead. I don't have the New Zealand version of AAA and all of my stuff is strewn about the van because I was planning on owning it for at least a couple months and used this as an excuse to avoid actually packing my belongings into suitcases. So, I was in the middle of nowhere, in the rain, with no obvious solution. I decided I wanted to check the oil since it is one of the only things I know how to do on a car. I popped the hood and jumped out into the rain, and using my cell phone as a flashlight, quickly learned that I do not in fact know how to check the oil in Emmy (it was under the passenger seat, whoever came up with the Emina idea must have also been in charge of designing the engine). I got back in the car, and did what any stupid American in my situation would do: I called the police. The receptionist told me there weren't any officers on duty near where I was. In the background, I heard what sounded like a crew of officers having a great time. "Send one of them out here!" I thought. Of course I didn't say anything.
Then, a strange man pulled off to the side of the road and got out of his car. I told the police receptionist someone was stopping for me. "Please put him on the phone," she said.
"It's the police," I said, handing him the phone.
He seemed confused but told them he could potentially give me a lift to Tekapo (wherever the hell that is, for all I know it's code for 'I'm going to kill this girl and hide her body'). He handed the phone back to me.
"Go with that man," the receptionist told me. "Oh, what's his license plate number?"
My new friend and I drove into town. He was en route from Christchurch where he had helped some friends move into their new home after losing their apartment in the earthquake. His wife was in Tekapo taking some time off work since her soon-to-open English school she had been working on had been destroyed by the earthquake as well.
Long story short, Emmy had a blown head gasket and was totaled. The one tow-truck driver in town was too drunk to give me a tow so I spent the night in a motel and in the morning awoke to Lake Tekapo, which was much more beautiful than I was expecting.
I boarded a bus to Queenstown after paying the mechanic to scrap Emmy. The bus ride was pretty, here are some more pictures:
Then, Ryan and I spent a couple nights in Queenstown and found another car for sale in the parking lot at our hostel. Although I've had very bad luck with cars thus far, I applied the "third time's a charm" mentality to the situation and we bought the car off the Brazilian cleaning lady from the hostel and her boyfriend after speaking Spanish to them and understanding nothing they said whatsoever. We decided it was time to hit the road, and headed down toward our WWOOF gay stay. Then the car overheated, so we pulled off to the side of the road and a kiwi stopped within two minutes to help us out. Apparently, in New Zealand, locals will help you with any car trouble whatsoever. We went into town and visited the local mechanic who told us the car appeared to be f***ed and that we should go knock on the door of whoever sold us this lump of metal and demand our money back.
So, we drove back to Queenstown and texted the Brazilian cleaning lady (whose name I still do not know) who told us she never had a problem with the car and had already spent the money but we could take the car to her mechanic and she would pay for the repairs. That was... six? days ago. We are STILL in Queenstown waiting for the part and slightly suspicious of this entire situation. More to come. Until then, here are some photos we took of beautiful Queenstown and its surroundings - a place you can easily kill a day or two in. Not ten.
We aren't in Oamaru.
After selling Moncho, my first kiwi car, to a coworker to get out of repairing the windshield, I purchased Emmy the Emina. Emmy is (or should I say, was) a 2003 Toyota minivan a bunch of my coworkers bought together for harvest. She seemed like a sturdy enough vehicle, and she runs on diesel (MUCH cheaper here). The only weird thing about Emmy: she is a Toyota Emina. As in someone sat down in their marketing meeting and said "Hey guys, I think we should call this car an Emina." Then, someone said, "Yeah! That's a really good idea!" and proceeded to put the name on a bunch of cars. I was ready to love Emmy unconditionally, regardless of her terrible model name. We drove from Blenheim down to Christchurch to drop off her previous owners at Jucy Rentals to get their camper van for their kiwi adventure. From there, we headed to Queenstown to meet up with Ryan. For those of you who aren't familiar with driving around New Zealand - it is much larger than it appears on maps. Blenheim to Christchurch took us at least 4 hours. Probably 5. I stopped counting because I was getting so discouraged that Christchurch is less than halfway to Queenstown. Around 7pm, Emmy and I were three hours out of Christchurch and still had about three hours to go before we were done driving. Emmy was struggling up some hills, but we were making awesome time, regardless of the rain, because there were no other cars on the road. Then, Emmy died. She overheated really quickly, then all the lights on the dashboard came on, and she turned herself off. Forever.
We coasted to the side of the road, and I began to assess the situation. There were no visible lights anywhere. My cell phone was almost dead. I don't have the New Zealand version of AAA and all of my stuff is strewn about the van because I was planning on owning it for at least a couple months and used this as an excuse to avoid actually packing my belongings into suitcases. So, I was in the middle of nowhere, in the rain, with no obvious solution. I decided I wanted to check the oil since it is one of the only things I know how to do on a car. I popped the hood and jumped out into the rain, and using my cell phone as a flashlight, quickly learned that I do not in fact know how to check the oil in Emmy (it was under the passenger seat, whoever came up with the Emina idea must have also been in charge of designing the engine). I got back in the car, and did what any stupid American in my situation would do: I called the police. The receptionist told me there weren't any officers on duty near where I was. In the background, I heard what sounded like a crew of officers having a great time. "Send one of them out here!" I thought. Of course I didn't say anything.
Then, a strange man pulled off to the side of the road and got out of his car. I told the police receptionist someone was stopping for me. "Please put him on the phone," she said.
"It's the police," I said, handing him the phone.
He seemed confused but told them he could potentially give me a lift to Tekapo (wherever the hell that is, for all I know it's code for 'I'm going to kill this girl and hide her body'). He handed the phone back to me.
"Go with that man," the receptionist told me. "Oh, what's his license plate number?"
My new friend and I drove into town. He was en route from Christchurch where he had helped some friends move into their new home after losing their apartment in the earthquake. His wife was in Tekapo taking some time off work since her soon-to-open English school she had been working on had been destroyed by the earthquake as well.
Long story short, Emmy had a blown head gasket and was totaled. The one tow-truck driver in town was too drunk to give me a tow so I spent the night in a motel and in the morning awoke to Lake Tekapo, which was much more beautiful than I was expecting.
I boarded a bus to Queenstown after paying the mechanic to scrap Emmy. The bus ride was pretty, here are some more pictures:
Then, Ryan and I spent a couple nights in Queenstown and found another car for sale in the parking lot at our hostel. Although I've had very bad luck with cars thus far, I applied the "third time's a charm" mentality to the situation and we bought the car off the Brazilian cleaning lady from the hostel and her boyfriend after speaking Spanish to them and understanding nothing they said whatsoever. We decided it was time to hit the road, and headed down toward our WWOOF gay stay. Then the car overheated, so we pulled off to the side of the road and a kiwi stopped within two minutes to help us out. Apparently, in New Zealand, locals will help you with any car trouble whatsoever. We went into town and visited the local mechanic who told us the car appeared to be f***ed and that we should go knock on the door of whoever sold us this lump of metal and demand our money back.
So, we drove back to Queenstown and texted the Brazilian cleaning lady (whose name I still do not know) who told us she never had a problem with the car and had already spent the money but we could take the car to her mechanic and she would pay for the repairs. That was... six? days ago. We are STILL in Queenstown waiting for the part and slightly suspicious of this entire situation. More to come. Until then, here are some photos we took of beautiful Queenstown and its surroundings - a place you can easily kill a day or two in. Not ten.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
WWOOFing
My last day of work is this Friday (woo-hoo, end of harvest!) and Ryan and I are embarking on a WWOOFing adventure. For those of you unfamiliar with New Zealand backpacker culture, WWOOF stands for Willing Workers On Organic Farms (www.wwoof.co.nz). There are hundreds of WWOOF hosts around the country, and WWOOFers e-mail a handful of them and then go stay with them on their farms to learn about organic farming/sheep shearing/bee keeping/house cleaning/whatever. We work four and a half hours per day (usually five days a week) in exchange for food and housing.
Our first stop: Allan at Gay Stay NZ (http://www.gaystay.co.nz/balcluthafarmstay.htm). We're required to work a little bit more than usual - six hour days - which should be nothing after twelve hour shifts at the winery during harvest. In exchange, we get use of the sauna, hot tub, billiard room, alcoholic beverages, etc. Should be a really fun adventure, updates and stories to come.
On a completely unrelated note, during the harvest party I left my car at the train station (our meeting point) and a train hucked a rock and my windshield and completely broke it. So, now I have to get a new windshield. I dropped my car off today to get it fixed and it turns out there is rust damage that must be fixed before they can fix the windshield. It's pretty nerve-racking to have all these expenses piling up right before I'm about to stop working for 3 and a half months...
Oh yeah, and I bought a car a few weeks ago. Don't think I mentioned that. His name is Moncho (José, my Chilean co-worker sold it to me and named him), which is the Chilean word for an old man who dresses well and hits on ladies. He's an 1989 Toyota Corona and aside from having a broken windshield is awesome.
Our first stop: Allan at Gay Stay NZ (http://www.gaystay.co.nz/balcluthafarmstay.htm). We're required to work a little bit more than usual - six hour days - which should be nothing after twelve hour shifts at the winery during harvest. In exchange, we get use of the sauna, hot tub, billiard room, alcoholic beverages, etc. Should be a really fun adventure, updates and stories to come.
On a completely unrelated note, during the harvest party I left my car at the train station (our meeting point) and a train hucked a rock and my windshield and completely broke it. So, now I have to get a new windshield. I dropped my car off today to get it fixed and it turns out there is rust damage that must be fixed before they can fix the windshield. It's pretty nerve-racking to have all these expenses piling up right before I'm about to stop working for 3 and a half months...
Oh yeah, and I bought a car a few weeks ago. Don't think I mentioned that. His name is Moncho (José, my Chilean co-worker sold it to me and named him), which is the Chilean word for an old man who dresses well and hits on ladies. He's an 1989 Toyota Corona and aside from having a broken windshield is awesome.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Harvest Party
On Friday, our harvest crew went on a boat ride (booze cruise) through the Marlborough Sounds. While going through my photos and videos the following day, I found this gem - a video of Bruno:
While we're on the topic of Bruno, he is one of the few people I've met that I can't look at without laughing. I will never understand how he managed to make it all the way to New Zealand, get a job, and get to work every day. He was the only person missing when we all got on the bus to go to the ferry station, so we drove up and down the main street of Blenheim looking for him and found him running along the side of the road. Supposedly, he waved down another bus that went by but they refused to stop for him.
Earlier this harvest, Bruno was trying to make conversation with one of the French girls we work with. He was trying to say "I'm tired because I slept a lot" but instead said "I'm tired of sleeping alone." The French girl was initially appalled, but then after some consideration told him that if he would shave his beard they could probably work something out. Who knows where Bruno is going to end up after this harvest - he thinks he might follow his current girlfriend (of one month) back to her homeland of the Czech Republic.
Also, is it just me, or does my english suddenly seem bad enough to not be my native tongue?
While we're on the topic of Bruno, he is one of the few people I've met that I can't look at without laughing. I will never understand how he managed to make it all the way to New Zealand, get a job, and get to work every day. He was the only person missing when we all got on the bus to go to the ferry station, so we drove up and down the main street of Blenheim looking for him and found him running along the side of the road. Supposedly, he waved down another bus that went by but they refused to stop for him.
Earlier this harvest, Bruno was trying to make conversation with one of the French girls we work with. He was trying to say "I'm tired because I slept a lot" but instead said "I'm tired of sleeping alone." The French girl was initially appalled, but then after some consideration told him that if he would shave his beard they could probably work something out. Who knows where Bruno is going to end up after this harvest - he thinks he might follow his current girlfriend (of one month) back to her homeland of the Czech Republic.
Also, is it just me, or does my english suddenly seem bad enough to not be my native tongue?
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