Here I am in the Otago region in the city of Dunedin. I drove down here from Oamaru in drizzle and grey skies so didn’t get to see the countryside. I had a dreadful night of no sleep in the top bunk at Oamaru’s ‘Red Kettle’ YHA hostel – the woman below me snored all night – and had the cheek to be perky at 7am when she noisily packed her bag and apologised for waking me up (I did point out somewhat sourly that I was in fact already awake and had been that way for several hours). I got out of there asap and hit the road. By 9am I was about 40kms south at the Maeraki Boulders. These are geological oddities on a lovely sweeping beach below a coastline which looks exactly like Devon. I have to keep pinching myself – across the miles of ocean is Chile! I am the other side of the world but it looks like home….. very wierd. I had a stroll on the beach almost alone (just a few other hardly souls like me) and took some cheesy photos of said boulders – which look like maltesers. The were formed millions of years ago and became embedded in the mud and rock before erosion exposed them to the seashore. With nothing but a banana to give me strength and flip flops to keep my feet warm I treated myself to a coffee in the visitor centre before leaving just in time for the tour buses to start dribbling from the Highway. Next stop was a bleak, windy bluff called…. prepare to snigger…….. “Shag Point”. Honestly! The Kiwis are so innocent they call Cormorants ‘Shags’. I think if this headland was in the UK it would be a prime location for some other kind of activity involving ‘birds’. Anyway, I drove the wiggly gravel track to the very, very end and was the sole person there – until a motorhome arrived. I put on waterproofs and headed down a muddy track in the pelting rain to see something interesting. The signs promise New Zealand Fur Seals, Yellow eye Penguins, dolphins and of course Shags. I did see Shags and Seals but after 5 minutes in the sideways rain and force 10 gale I gave up and went back to the car soaked through. There was nothing to encourage me to stop again before Dunedin so an hour later I arrived into the frankly massive and unexpected sprawl of the ‘Scottish’ city named after Edinburgh. With such scottish weather it definitely felt like I was north of the border back home and driving into the busy streets I realised I had no idea where the hostel was and how to get there. I stopped for petrol and asked directions – as usual they went on one ear and onto the petrol polluted tarmac, so I headed for the city centre and found the I-site information place in the Octagon just yards from the statue of Robbie Burns. I parked (imagine being able to park outside the place you want to go into any English city – no chance!) and got directions and within minutes I was at the YHA on Stafford Street. Checking in I was told the bed might not be made (I was paying for a private room to ensure sleep this time) and I said I didn’d mind if the sheets weren’t on. What I didn’t realise was that the girl meant that the bed wasn’t made. As I walked to my room I found the Manager on his knees with a tool kit assembling 3 bunk beds, a pile of mattresses stacked against the wall. I said I would come back later………..Dunedin on first site is an attractive city of imposing buildings in grey stone. I walked back to the Octagon and Rabbie Burns where I paid $20 for a ‘window licker*’ bus tour (well it was raining and I didn’t feel like walking!) (*For ‘window licker’ see previous blog from the Kimberly in Australia) and had an hour to kill. I wandered along George Street – the main shopping area and was uninspired to go inside or buy anything. Feeling peckish I found a nice place called ‘Lemon Tree’ and ate a salad, tomato juice and coffee which killed enough time to get the bus. As it turned out I was alone on the bus with ‘Coral’ a former nurse now driving buses and a sheep/deer/beef farmer on the side. She told me her husband was killed in a farm accident and her son runs the farm now. It’s amazing how much information you get from complete strangers! We toured the highlights of the city from the dry seats of the bus – stopping so I could take photos. I can now proudly say I have been to the steepest road in the world. The train Station is the most photographed building in New Zealand so I added to the stats by taking some shots myself. At the end of the tour I went back to the Cadbury’s Factory but too late for a tour, so instead I walked back to the hostel, jumped in the car and drove to the Otago Peninsular to escape the city. I actually wanted to get out. All the buildings, traffic, people, Christmas hype and dereliction of the poorer areas (where the hostel is) was pretty depressing to me so some fresh air was called for. An hour later at 6pm I was looking out across the Pacific to Chile, whilst Shags, seagulls and seals did their thing in the sea and on the cliffs. I refused to pay for a ‘tour’ of the Albatross breeding area and drove back to the city to chill out. My room is not a place for chilling out however. The beds now complete I was able to examine my surroundings. Pink walls, shocking pink windowframes, ageing and tired curtains, and the only piece of furniture to go with the beds is a school desk, battered and knackered, the type where the lid lifts up. I’m not impressed, glad it’s only one night. I have no accommodation planned tomorrow and will see something when I get to Invercargill. I’m keen to leave Dunedin. It strikes me as a city for old people to live in. But maybe I’m being unfair, or maybe all these wide open spaces have turned me off cities? I am looking forward to getting amongst the forests of the Catlins tomorrow.
