Sunday was set for a more traditional day since Tokyo is a city with a slice of literally everything you could want, need, or imagine.

So, I headed to Asakusa in search of the past. It was so nice to get out of the occasionally oppressive centre of Shibuya, annnnnd it was super sunny, so me and my basic bitch travel needs were delighted. I grabbed another egg sarnie from 7Eleven, and ate it looking at 3 dogs in nappies in a pram. Because…well … Japan!

I’d booked to do a Tea ceremony on recommendation from Mosdall and Dan, who’d rated it as a highlight of their trip last year and figured since I hadn’t done it before, I’d give it a whirl. It is a whole affair where you very diligently learn the sacred art of macha tea making and how to be the hostess with the caffeinated mostess, all whilst dressed in traditional kimono attire.

In very fortunate news, I ended up with a private tour, after the group of 12 other people who’d booked my slot didn’t show up! Result! It’s a very poignant tradition and special event to witness, so quite rightly, a private would’ve cost me over £300 to do if I’d planned it. Lucky me.

Mia (san) was my tutor and she was a total babe, talking me through every stage of the process and letting me have a very hands on go, I might not otherwise have been able to do in a bigger group. It was honestly so fun, and I loved the pomp, ceremony, and tradition of it all, even if the knees are absolutely not cut out for hard floor making tea these days.

After the elaborate dressing up, where a gorgeous army of women helped get me into my Kimono and do my hair (felt like that scene in Mulan where they make her over, but japanese “we’re going to make this sows ear…into a silk purse” – they had their work cut out, bless em)

I then had free reign to take my new look for a spin round Asakusa for the afternoon. Bring the kimono back by 6 was the only rule, otherwise, go forth and have fun. I decided on two culturally opposed but equally essential stops – the majestic Asakusa temple… and the Hello Kitty flagship store!

It was so lovely to dress in traditional wears for the day. I was also reassured it was culturally fine when doing cultural activities and, more so, actively encouraged for visitors, so all ok. I thought about how the equivalent here would be like coming to Tottenham, dressing you lovingly in a tracksuit, fake tan and pale pink lip gloss, and showing you how to do a builders brew. Beautiful scenes… someone get it on Dragons Den!

I tottered over to the temple, which was stuffed full of those sharing their prayers with Kami, the revered spirits which inhabit nature in Shintoism, and fellow travellers absorbing the atmosphere.

Shinto shrines are so beautiful to wander, with traditional pagodas, lanterns, and incense a plenty. Central to most is the art of Omikuji fortune telling, a huge deal at any Shinto temple you’d stumble upon, and Asakusa was no exception. People come from miles, tumble their change into the slot, and literally shake a stick to receive divine guidance. You release a numbered stick from a hefty hexagonal tub and match it to a corresponding drawer to reveal your fortune hiding behind. As is the jeopardy of life, you can’t predict if your fortune will bestow good or bad luck, shake it up, and hope for the best.

In “things are looking up Emma” latest, I got a good one! So that’s promising, covering a LOT of bases too, so I will hope they all come true… especially the very apt final point about taking care when travelling…!

In ‘ain’t Japan just gorgeous’ news, you have the option, if you get a stinker, to tie your misfortune to a rack so you don’t carry your bad luck with you. Adorbes. May try and implement that for home… expect my flat to look like Mr Trebus’ gaff in no time!

I really couldn’t walk in the shoes and alarming accompanying socks, so I had to give up and head back. So after a toe clenching trip back to the tea house, I hung up my Geisha get up and went in search of snacks.

Beloved Qiraat is always hyping up the joys of the Takayaki, and to be quite honest, a goldfish waffle filled with custard was never going to disappoint, was it!! A perfectly delicious balance of whimsy and wildly scrumptious, bloody loved it!

Decided to top off the day with a visit to the Kameido Tenjin Shrine. I’d missed the cherry blossom, whilst I was adventuring through New Zealand, but wisteria season was suppisedly in full swing til mid May and this place is reportedly stuffed with wisteria, hanging in ordered, unending rows. Wisteria always reminds me of my gorgeous friend Rachel, and my trip to visit her and lovely hubby Alex in Melbourne on my first solo worldwide travel stint in 2016, so embracing the full circle, was keen to see it in bloom. Wandered from the stop, anticipating breathtakingly bountiful scenes… except upon arrival, absolutely none. With thanks to global warming or lost in translation, I was standing, nearing sundown, at a totally empty shrine!

Cute all the same and always proud of myself for using public transport when the language is so alien, but alas the perils of trying to find a gem off the beaten track. All part of the adventure, eh? But still fucking annoying! I headed back to Shibuya for my 3rd attempt at chilled eve, which almost certainly won’t happen, but, I’ll try.

Route back, Bob Ross style, happy little accidently took me through Kinshi park…and another few thousand steps before I reached the metro. But it was another part of Tokyo I hadn’t been to or seen. It’s clearly a big park where friends, family and sports fans gather on a Sunday for spending time in the sun. There were tonnes of super cute little ones, dogs, and friendly folk, making the most of the fading light of the weekend. Very sweet bonus stroll… despite a day of alllllll the steps!

In hindsight, it was the equivalent of popping from Soho to Richmond to have a quick look at some plants… which would be insane at home…so must remember  when plotting future plans!

One essential on this list was a spot of Vinyl record shopping in the hope of finding some buried treasure amidst the international racks. So I stopped by the lanes in search of gold. Behold! Bloc Party…original 2005 press of my favourite album ever, Silent Alarm, glints at me from rack…I ignore the hefty pricetag in a bid to reclaim this, my favourite album from the annuls of associated heartbreak. I’ve got me a precious new copy, and this one’s a keeper! Delighted. I also found a cool Japanese remix of a Jamiroquai EP amongst others, and praaaaay they don’t snap or warp in my suitcase.

Delicious sushi for dinner and picked up a viral individual basque cheesecake to eat in my pj’s and plans for an early night foiled again!

I toasted my last night in Shibuya by finally making it to the hotel Onsen. Onsens are hot springs that appear all over Japan and a dreamy institution to soak away the stresses and strains of the day and the best kind of way to while away a few hours. There are lots of rules and etiquette around onsen life, including segregated baths and, most notably, being completely starkers. But nothing beats waving goodbye to a loooong few days of walking with a nice hot 42⁰ bath… There just so happened to be 4 naked Asian women in it with me! Ha. (Insert dad Joke about “having to pay a lot for that in other places” here!) Followed up with a spot of sauna and an ice bath plunge which bought back traumatic ice bucket challenge memories and a final soak before a truly dreamy sleep. Bloody marvellous.

Final morning was a quick schooch around Harajuku for some last min shopping. Tokyo is made for the Qiraats of this world who ooze effortless fashionista….

Me and my practical North Face rain coat…not so much. But I tried. I do think I’m somehow much cooler here..so I bought this addidas top! Let us pray that I dont just look like vicky pollard when I get back to a bromley back drop!)

Had a matcha and queued for a mental cartoon bakery everyone was raving about. Which, as expected, was utterly insane. It was an ode to Manga cartoon legends Chiikawa, a cutesy little series that follows cloud looking animal creatures and their daily lives…but this time immortalised as a cream horn?!? Sure! It was legitimately policed like a protest on parliament… but all for a comedy bread roll in the shape of a bear. This place, honestly… but I loved it all the same.

Fiiinally caved on the backpack, which has single handedly sucked all the joy from me departing or arriving in new places and bought myself a suitcase which will undoubtedly be the greatest £ I spend all trip! 4 wheel drive, hard shell extendable badboy with plenty of room for inane things to bring home. Joy! Stuffed all my worldly possessions into it and said bye to Shibuya in exchange for the next adventure!

Contemplated the 4 change 1hr 40 minute journey on the metro to the Disney complex, with newly aquired by 20 odd kilo massive case, but got half way down the road in the rain and nearly cried so just swallowed the taxi cost..some things just need spending on.

I am so, so glad I tacked Tokyo onto the itinerary. It’s just as delightful as I remember and in some ways wish I had more time here. It is mania, but the people are wonderful, kind, helpful, and it’s spotless, modern, they’re living in the actual future. Fashion, tech, food, everything wise. Everyone is beautifulllllll, like drop dead ‘oh my god’ levels of gorgeous. Really cannot advise against a holiday here with a significant other that means anything to you, more….unless you want to recreate that “who’s she” meme…or spend the whole holiday feeling like an actual potato.

It has been odd being the anomaly face in the crowd, something you never consider when you fortunately  live somewhere so vibrant and diverse as London. But i had some lovely compliments from some very sweet Japanese women who boosted my self-esteem, no end. A city of dreamboats supporting each other like one giant nightclub ladies loo.

So sayonara, for now Tokyo central… you utter dream place. Until next time for absolute certain.

But what does any sane person who has a couple of weeks and a cultural melting pot like Japan at their travel finger tips do? Spend the last 2 days at Disneyland, of course!!!! I’m coming for you, Mickey…and there ain’t nothing you can do about it!

Xx

Touch down in Tokyo! 11 hours flew by versus the 27 hours to Auckland. Watched the Hobbit and reminisced. So glad to be back in Japan (if only for a short stint) because I really bloody love it here!

Luckily, I lost a decent chunk of the New Zealand pie based pastry weight on actual yomp from the train station to the hotel! Landed to 80% humidity and this fucking backpack is the bain of my actual existence. Why I thought I needed to carry my entire trip on my back when I am just in hotels is beyond stupid…

Also I’m 35 and 25 year old me was deffo better and schlepping up stairs. Yet more weight to my theory that the day you turn 30, someone breaks into your house in the night and steals all the sponge from your knees and you can no longer lift, bend, walk or sit like you used to… 

Arrived an exceptionally sweaty mess after stupidly thinking Shibuya station would come flooding back to me from past visit. Building work, Japanese signage, and a shit tonne of people later and am still in the station, staring at a map, and wondering what year it is, let alone where I am!!

There are 37 million people in Tokyo. I have landed from a place of 0.2mil… assault on the senses doesn’t even cover it.

Am staying at the beloved hotel we stayed at on our previous trip, as it holds such nostalgic memories, and it’s still kicking around the top spots of Tripadvisor! So a no-brainer. Shibuya was also easily my fav area of Tokyo of the 5 places we stayed last, so a great location to be thrown back into. In matrixy news… I landed and arrived back on Greg Hahn’s birthday. For the uninitiated, Greg Hahn is a US marine Katy and I met on our trip here 10 years ago at breakfast for (and I stress) about 6½ minutes….and have literally mentioned once a week, every week for the last decade. By some bizarre fate, not only is it 10 years since we last stayed, it’s actually Greg Hahn’s bday today…! Celebrated by going back to the scene of the crime. We recently learned that despite feeling so privileged that he added us on fbook at the time, he has 1,285 Facebook friends, and we absolutely were not special. We will, however, continue the traidition of celebrating Greg Hahn day with sushi  every year until one of us dies. Both of us actually… i’d expect the other other to continue in a ceremonial capacity. Yes, we really do that, yes it is utterly unhinged, no we will not be taking further questions at this time, k thanks.

Bed was a rock-hard block, which I first assumed was to humble me in this, my utterly ridiculous, flashback tour. But since Japan are literally living in the future, and I’d trust them with my life, I awoke refreshed and rejuvenated as expected. They just know something we don’t know. About everything. I feel like a medieval peasant discovering life for the first time here (minus the grog and groats).

Headed to breakfast in complimentary pyjamas and slippers (“Put your slippers on”) because it’s not only allowed but encouraged etiquette.

Delish array of Japanese traditional items miso soup, rice, omelette, yes, that is a panko giant prawn! And the western buffet, an adoreable chat gpt generated cornucopia of “what do westerners eat”. Quiche, coleslaw and actual roast beef and actual gravy. I love this country.

I decided this trip to try and do things I hadn’t done before, and embrace some chill, relaxed life in Tokyo days (as much as the mania allows!)…with a casual nod here and there to things I especially loved, mainly food!

Tonnes has obvs unsurpringly changed in a metropolis like Tokyo in the past decade, so plenty to keep me entertained. The first stop was to survey the city from on high. This place bloody loves a viewpoint (Nz….is that you babe?!) and Shibuya Sky is the new kid on the block to accompany the Tokyo Tower and the Sky Tree for panoramic vistas a plenty.

Attempts to book tickets, however, was a shitshow. After some QR code based tech support and translation help from staff, we got there in end, but who knows what will happen when I come back for my timeslot this eve. Also, I’m pretty sure someone may come for my firstborn child after likely, inadvertently, signing away the rights on one the pages… but we roll. Fingers crossed…see you at sunset!

I pottered the cute shops at the tower and headed back to street level for a stop by Hachiko. The famed bronze canine statue at Shibuya is a lovely monument marking man’s best friend and the ultimate reason why humanity absolutely does not deserve the purity of dogs! Legend has it Hachiko  waited for his owner to return from work every day at Shibuya station, only for his owner to pass away following a sudden and tragic brain haemorrhage one day, and never return home. The story goes that Hachiko still made the journey and waited patiently for his owner, who never returned, for 9 years (!!) until he himself went to doggy heaven. (I know…I’ve got something in my eye too…)

Went to recover from the emotional turmoil at Starbucks, which sits happily on the 3rd floor above the famous Shibuya Scramble crossing. Floor to ceiling windows provide the perfect outlook to watch the people swarm the streets, scattering like scarabs from one side to the other. I’ve recently noted that London’s Oxford Street – Regent Street Junction now has our own knock-off. We just need to quadruple our city population, and we will be somewhere close to the same scenes. Stay in your lane London town! You ain’t got shit on this scramble.

Next stop was to swing by the Harry Hedgehog cafe in Harajuku. Animal cafes are everywhere here, and you can have a cuppa with anything from cats to capybaras! Hedgehogs were the order of the day today, but upon arrival, I wasn’t sure.

Overwhelming final review was that I largely hated it. They had weird troughs of quite bemused, resigned hedgehogs dotted about the place and lots of cooing visitors manhandling them in gloves. I was reassured constantly by staff they are conditioned to visitors and very well looked after, which I figured was only probably partly true. Posed for forced snaps and plotted escape. Not before I’d met Saboro, their additional resident meerkat (?!) He was super friendly and came and sat and my lap as if to say please take me home with you (sob) and was also wearing a canadian waistcoat (of course he was!) It just made me sad.

They also inexplicably had owls there? because…Japan! So I sat for 20 mins, had the inclusive coffee, made my excuses, and left. The idea of animal cafes always seems so cutsey, kawaii, as they say here, but in reality, they’re always just like a sad pet shop with a rickety vending machine. Memories of calico cat cafe being the same a decade before. Not for me. Though I was a bit sad that the capybara one was fully booked 3 months in advance because it would’ve been truly insane, right!

Hot footed to Shibuya Sky, and man is that view a goodun. Asia knows how to do on top of the world well. Hopped up for sunset and caught a glimpse of both golden hour daylight, dusk, and the bright lights of nighttime. Gorgeous. Lots and LOTS of influencers of Instagram and felt a mug spending some time actually taking in the views and not just getting endless snaps. Only so many selfies my arm can manage. Even here.

Topped off a great day by meeting beloved Qiraat for dinner. What a joy. Qiraat is easily one of my coolest Ofsted pals (as well as you, Rach and Caroline!) who moved back here a few years ago after an initial stint living in Tokyo pre-covid.

She is a woman of great taste and picked us a delicious sushi spot in town. The sushi here was just as great as I remember. I mean, get in the actual bin, Wasabi, you paper thin pretender! Acutely aware it will take me a long time to readjust as I missed it for like 3 years when I last left. If every meal was fresh Japanese sushi, the world would be a better place. It’s just facts.

It was so good to catch up with a pal and it felt like I’d seen her yesterday. Despite warning me ahead of time, it was dress down Friday –  she’s was the same effervescent, immaculately dressed dreamboat from 2015. I imagine Qiraat’s version of dress down Friday is a bit like everyone’s else’s Met gala. Her outfit combos were one of our highlights of the dreary London office, and I was so glad we had the chance to have dinner. She plied me with exceptional suggestions of local stamp of approval things to do here, to really soak up culture of the place, and I’m so grateful so many came in use. Thanks for the glorious company, as always. Here’s wishing you and Will all the very best for the next year here and adventures on the other side. Til soon, gorgeous lady.

Had a much needed lazy morning, wired until 2 am, thanks to late night matcha. And since I am not proud to admit my own basic bitch levels of being insta-influenced, I decided to come for famous souffle pancakes at Flippers. I queued for a whole houuuuuur! The one thing about a hop to a city with 37 million people is that there are people everywhere and loads of them have the same idea as you! The Japanese also have this exceptional ethos to be early, patient, and wait …for everything. Every day. And they’re totally chill about it. Probably insert something about it’s not the destination but the journey here…blah blah blah, but ergh. Also illogical Asian approach to common sense seating arrangements where if a table of 5 is first in the queue the entire line waits for a table for 5 to become available before they seat the next guests, despite smaller groups behind and smaller tables available. We queue. And we wait. That’s just how they do it here. And it’s massively annoying!

Once again, Kindle to the rescue and finishing Adam Kay’s ‘This is going to hurt’ kept me company til brunchtime. As did the unwavering thoughts of, I wish I had swung by 7 Eleven for an elite level snack before I joined this queue! They are famed for their convenience store grub here, and it’s hyped for a reason! Especially their iconic egg mayo sando, which would’ve gone down a breakfast treat (my brunch pancakes were fast becoming late lunch pancakes, and I was not impressed!)

They were playing yacht rock on a loop in the cafe, presumably in attempts to quell a hangry mutiny, and I was told, along with my (lost in translation) 2 mimosas, that food would be about 30 minutes after being seated. I could’ve cried. God bless that kindle and ever improved core strength getting used to queues everywhere. Good training for Disney!

Almost an hour and 40 mins after joining the queue, I am fiiinally gazing on a serious stack of jiggley delightfulness, praise be!

Sacherine and satisfying for the first few bites…then I realise quickly, some tables of 2 are sharing a portion….gulp. But Mamma Thurlow didn’t raise no quitter, so I soldiered on bravely and scoffed the lot. I know, I know… my pride of Britain should be on the way, etc.  Sat in quiet contemplation for a while….with my second mimosa thinking life choices may once again come back to haunt me. This time via the medium of 5pm sugar crash (or potentially diabetes!). What holidays are for eh.

Going from a country where you’re seemingly the only person in the world to 37 millionth in line for everything has been a bit of a challenge, but when everyone is utterly adoreable, it’s fine. Shit tonne of brash gross Americans is the only exception to the rule….but ain’t that the truth everywhere, eh?

Wandered the shops in search of clothes cooler than me for a few hours and took up a Qiraat tip. Nestled within the red light district, sandwiched between a love hotel and a strip club…is Lion. Lion is one of Tokyos’ meikyoku kissaten which aptly and adoreably translates to classical masterpiece cafe.

This place and concept are like a throwback to another age. The café is a two-storey audiophile listening theatre dedicated to classical music. With custom-made, 3-metre high wooden speakers and a no talking policy. Lion is a 93-year-old establishment and surely one of the most unique places to hear records in the world, and I bloody loved it. It smelt like a damp and dusty loft full of buried classical vinyl treasure. All guests sat perched on church pews. It was a serene escape, a veritable oasis of tranquillity from the ensuing mania that is Tokyo central! Heavenly for an hour, sipping a soda and soaking up the supersonic soundsystem.

Dinner was a local Tonkatsu place. I’ve also been thinking about this dish since I left a decade ago. As with sushi sampling, it is just as delicious as remember. Obvs a queue but tiny local fair and no tourists (like me!) so assumed it must be a winner. After much nodding and polite pointing, im not really sure what I ordered, but whatever it was, it was delicious. Ha.

Made a late night photo booth stop, whilst wandering back to the hotel, because when in Japan do as the Japanese do and all that jazz…and looked back on a coupla very oh so Tokyo days, indeed.

Early ish night as need to try and conserve some energy…she says!…for the busy few days ahead. Til soon x

Arrived in Wellington at 10 am thanks to internal flight efficiency. It really is a great way to hop about here if you ignore the harrowing carbon footprint angle. Left arrivals to wind and cloud and first impressions, I wasn’t sure. I’m since reliably informed that blustery is this city’s MO, being referred to affectionately by locals as Windy Wellington.

Wellington is the southernmost capital city in the world and is located at the southwestern tip of New Zealand’s North Island. Māori tradition dictates that the legendary Polynesian explorer Kupe discovered the area in the 10th century; modern tradition dictates that all indigenous inhabitants from Māori tribes have now unceremoniously been displaced. A really important point of contention here as much of Nz history is shrouded in this sort of shunning, peppered with a bit of Cook, who played his own role in land smash and grab. British covering themselves in international glory as ever….eye roll!

Fortunately, thanks to recent recognition and campaigning, there are more and more rich examples of Māori traditions to be found across the country, and Wellington is certainly the most linked city i’ve been to here. All hail heritage and the incredible efforts of the Māori people to restore some rightful balance.

Obvs room not ready upon arrival, so wandered about to get my bearings and headed to the harbour where the weather cleared to make way for welcome sun, and I warmed to Wellington much more. I’m discovering I am quite a basic bitch when it comes to needs for travel…bit of sunny weather, autumn colours and an ice cream and I’m pretty much delighted! Crisis averted!

It was still early when I met Josh, who approached me as I was minding my own business, reading a lunch menu in a window, and asked me to have lunch with him. Literally within within 4 seconds of meeting. I made excuses and politely declined the strange offer, but props for being bold, I suppose. As ever, he neglected to take that hint though and asked me what I was doing here and then interrupted me half way through with “ask me what I’m doing” – the neurodiversity magnets still going strong I see!!!

He was in Wellington to pitch his tv show about the Christchurch boy racer scene. He had a 4pm meeting, so I wished him well and promised to look out for “Christchurch Street Racer Society” if it ever made it to Disney+ (doubtful). I warned him that the pitch world is notoriously tricky as my exceptional tv development producer and all-around great egg Brother in law, Tom, has taught me well. Thought maybe it could do with the Tom treatment, to be honest, as he wasn’t that able to explain what the show was, and the name is quite shit. But he had bags of misplaced confidence, that’s for sure. Took some time to ponder how this would literally never happen to a man just trying to have some lunch and rued the patriarchy as per.

I have been outwardly approached by quite a few people here, which, often, is really nice. Times managing male autistic advances not so. But it’s a testament to New Zealand being a bit stuck in the 90s. Most people are friendly here and open and willing to chat; I can only assume that perhaps because there aren’t as many people who live here, person to person interactions are fewer and further between. But it makes for a nice environment as a solo traveller and one I will be sad to lose when I embrace the anonymity of Asia soon.

I headed to Te Papa Museum for the afternoon, the national museum of New Zealand, since literally every single person I have spoken to about this trip recommended it. And they were right, it was incredible. I plumped for the guided tour (all 3 of us!), and Stephen did a great job of narrating the numerous exhibits, best bits, and buried treasures of each floor.

In 2 hours wandering, i’d experienced an earthquake simulator similar to 2011, learned how volcanoes are made and function, and saw traditional stories of Māori facial tattooing or Moko. I’d learned about tsunamis saw a traditional Māori homes, discovered the history of myths and legends including Maui of Moana fame. I saw moa skeletons and taxidermy kiwi birds, learned lessons of natural and social history. I stood inside a native birds nest, uncovered the past and present process of the treaty of Waitangi between Māori and the British, and didn’t even stop for a cuppa!

The jewel in their crown is the phenomenal  Gallipoli – The Scale of our War exhibition. An incredible showcase, capturing the horrors of WW1 through the eyes of 8 ordinary New Zealanders who contributed to the Anzac efforts. The set up itself is a carefully crafted walk through of personal accounts, peppered with super size 2.4 x scale statues of each storyteller, made by the Wēta workshop (more on them later!) It’s a critically acclaimed and award winning exhibit and you can see why. Opened in 2015 for a limited 4-year run, it still remains, and is now being kept open until 2032 (which is only 7 years away and not in fact the fuuuuuture…that as a concept feels gross doesn’t it! I’ll leave that with you!)

In short, I loved it. I was one of a few visitors rattling round in there by late afternoon, so it gave me plenty of time to listen to poignant stories of loss and love. The letters from the front line, sent home to worried wives, really stood out. Truly the most beautiful letters written at the ugliest of times. I find it incredible how those at war could dig deep into their soul when so much was at stake and gift handwritten letters to treasure, when for some, it was the last thing they would ever do. I have always loved letter writing, and it really reinforced why putting pen to paper is such an important legacy to keep alive.

I pondered how these days I can’t even get a text back, and we’re now surrounded by men with ‘commitment issues’ who can’t express their feelings even twice a year…glad to see weve made exceptional progress there. I longed for romantic times that once were, wondered if discarded dick pics may adorn the walls of museums of the future….and eye rolled into the natural world exhibit.

It’s truly the best museum I have ever visited amongst my roams across the world..and i’ve been to a shit tonne of museums. As a former employee within the beloved Dept of Culture Museum’s team, I really rate how incredible this place was. It is so diverse, so interactive, and utterly brilliant. A great afternoon all round.

I’ve really enjoyed discovering each of Nz’s cities and their distinct and very different charms. Wellington certainly has a cooler vibe than anticipated and a nice balance of culture and tradition as well as hosting the heart of government and big industry.

Other activities on the agenda here took me on the famous red cable car up to Wellington Peak to soak in some historic views.

There’s a cute little mini museum at the top so after a wander, I decided to just do the ride one way and the scenic sky to sea walk back down, which took a joyfully downhill route through the Wellington Botanical Gardens (yes another one!) I thought, by now, it was surely a bit seen one gardens seen them all, but I honestly think was the best yet.

The route culminates in crossing through Bolton cemetery (signs getting boring now!), which is an incredible graveyard that was not too long ago split apart to make way for a 7 lane motorway to run through. Whilst I’m sure some of the 19th century ancestors are a little miffed about their final resting place essentially being alongside the M4… I am assured it was sensitively managed (cough….someone got bribed….cough)

The evening was to play for…so I contemplated heading to The Fringe Bar, who were hosting one of the first nights of the New Zealand Comedy festival. I went to enquire about tickets before committing, and the not so exceptional sales pitch from the host was “not sold many, it’s very quiet”! ….I was really unsure if I could bear being one of 5 people in a comedy crowd, so checked reddit for advice on what to do in Wellington on a Monday…and it seriously suggested “get ice cream and go home” – so I plumped for the comedy and prayed.

Christ, I forgot how much these showcase shows are a mixed bag. One bloke’s entire set was small penis jokes, another about contracting malaria as a child?! Then the guy sat in my row desperate for audience participation whooped when one comedian asked who in the audience was single and then again when another comedian asked who had shat themselves in their adult life….I’m no singleton expert but feel like openly rolling with that on the dating market probably wasn’t going to help his cause!

A few funny sets, so it was absolutely worth going along. It’s also incidently how I found myself still drinking in the bar with some of the comedians after. A few rum and ginger ales later and I’m doing Cher’s Turn Back Time on Kareoke and regretting signing up for the all too early Wēta Workshop tour the next day…but a very fun night all round.

Was honestly unsure if Wēta workshop would be for me, given I’m no die hard fan of film or The Lord of the Rings (which is the collaboration they’re most famous for) but I’d defy anyone to not be fascinated by the behind the scenes glimpse into movie making magic.

My beautiful and brilliant friend Charlie has one of the best jobs in the world as a literal puppet master, designer and monster maker here in the UK (her and the team won a bloody Ivor Novello I’ll have you know!!!) and I’m always fascinated by her 9-5. This was a full-blown glimpse into model making marvelloussness and how the worker bees here at Wēta make all sorts come to life, so a really interesting way to while and few hours.

The afternoon was spent on a free tour of the New Zealand Parliament, affectionately known as the Beehive. Turned out I’d timed it to perfection, as Prime Minister’s Quenstions was taking place in the house and we were able to sit in the public gallery. Prime spot opposite the current serving government and birds eye view of Prime Minister Christopher Luxton in action. A cool, if niche, celeb spot for the day.

The tour itself is a bit basic as we are just so spoilt with the history and notoriety of Parliament in the UK. Everything else is based on our model but without all the historical grandeur. They touted the incredible 100yr old library as a piece of history… and I couldn’t help but think how most houses on my road are older!!!

Facetimed the rents to confirm still alive. And headed for some brunch at Neo Cafe on Willis Street. I had a giant hash brown bigger than my head, which felt a fitting bon voyage to the carb loading culinary marathon that has been New Zealand! I will largely be veggie in Asia on account of South Korea’s genuine penchant for dog meat as a delicacy, so I am really hoping it will balance itself out.

In a final culturally poignant plan, I went and got my nails redone for Tokyo. My former talons had got insanely long and were wildly impractical for even flashpacker life, so it was a welcome relief . Thanks to Olivias Nail Bar in downtown and the princely sum of £50, I got a ridiculous hand painted nail art set any 5 year old worth their salt would be delighted by, ready for the Japanese madness.

Over to the airport for an earlier flight to Auckland, after mid-morning panic when my other one got cancelled (joy!) to prep for 11 hours in the air.

Asia, I’m coming for you. First stop Konichiwa to beloved Japan! I can’t bladdy wait!

Xx

Friday! Or as I like to call it welcome escape from Franz Joseph day! Obviously it’s the most beautiful so far, clear skies, some would say utterly perfect helicopter weather…. Cest la vie, eh.

Boarded the Great Sights bus up the coast to Greymouth. They’re bit like New Zealand’s answer to the National Express but with a chatty guide en route and less hungover Geordies. Big comfy coach with wide widows for views and a few stops along the way.

Pitched up in Hokitika for lunch… Everyone takes 4½ seconds to eat here…so lunch break was 40 mins to find a cafe, order, eat not vom and walk back to bus! Pondered if Great Sights might have a sponsorship deal with Gaviscon and tried to ignore the bacon sandwich, still only halfway down my oesophagus, on way back to the bus.

On that, said bacon sandwich arrived, and it was in fried bread! Why, tho!!! I am seeking out salads where humanly poss but this food is full on. Hoping remnants of patched up heart survive this trip!

Journey smooth to station and so glad to see dreamy weather follow us up the coast to board one of the highlights of the Nz part of the trip – the Trans Alpine train.

The Trans Alpine is just one of many scenic trains that wander their way through the Nz countryside. Complete with full scenic carriage, glass sectioned roof and widows all round for making the most of the epic views cross-country. This route is penned as one of the great railway journeys of the world and takes an awe-inspiring trail through the Great Divide – the sublime Southern Alps from West Coast to East and ending in Chirstchuch

And man, was it majestic. Acutely aware that i’ve used that word more since i’ve arrived here than in my previous 35 years combined! But it’s pretty much the only way to sum this place up. Everything is utterly stunningly ridiculous. Mega delayed leaving the station, so we started to lose the sun. We did catch the moon rise (is that a thing?) over Arthur’s peak was pretty amazing. As were the southern alps themselves – shrouded in incredible colours at sunset, smooshed between snow topped peaks. Breathtakingly beautiful, but for lucky Kiwis, the everyday norm.

Thanks to light service and shoulder season a half empty train meant a big ol’ window and also table for 4 to myself in a quiet carriage down the back. Thanks to Matt the train guard for hooking me up with a peaceful seat switch for the 5hrs ahead (gross American’s get everywhere!!!) Don’t ask don’t get eh.

Listened to Mark Hoppus from Blink182s’ autobiography on Audible. There was something so perfectly juxtaposed in looking at scenery beyond your wildest imagination whilst Mark describes him and Tom DeLonge as the Lenon and McCartney of dick jokes.

Think we missed a fair chunk of scenic thanks to earlier delay which was a shame and also perhaps theme of this stop! Last 2 hours just pitch black darkness….ha. Not so scenic! But it was beautiful clear crisp and autumnal whilst it lasted and I managed not to drop my phone out the window of the open air carriage so all in all a successfully journey.

Cafe bar only served, you guessed it, high carbohydrate snacks, so I shovelled in something bread based like the Vicar of Dibley at her 3rd Christmas dinner and prayed green things would be accessible in Christchurch.

Got fleeced for a cab from the train station by local cabbie, John. I knew it was a bad move when he started saying how excited I’d be (being from the UK) to know he once had the 2 sons from Mrs Browns Boys in the back of his cab. Tried the handle for a stop drop and roll out onto the road, in bid to avoid having to feign interest in the story, but it was locked. That shit programme follows me everywhere!

In good news however, seem to have arrived just in time for calm after the storm!!

Saturday was a gloriously sunny 1 day only in Christchurch, and very welcome relief after news reports of wild weather, winds, floods and what can be best described as a shit tonne of storms.

I was very excited to be welcomed to Christchurch by long lost school pal Max Robertson. Max moved to Nz 7 years ago and his recent rousing post about becoming a permanent resident here in Feb was actually what encouraged me to venture to Nz in the first place.

It was so good to see him, hear all the news about his utterly gorgeous life here and get upto speed on the last 17 years! Time flies. Delicious brunch at the Arts Center here in town and left with top tips on what to see and do and how to make the most of my 1 day here.

Thanks for a glorious start to the day Mr Robertson. Wishing you all the best for continued happiness in this hemisphere! Until soon mate.

Took the gondola ride up to Christchurch viewpoint and scenic vistas across the city. Met Jade a fellow solo traveller from Malvern in Worcestershire (“I’m gunna be singing Turn my swag on by Soulja boy, but the Keri Hilson version”!…niche ref for my huns there) Wandered and took mutual snaps for each other with the blissful backdrop and lamented the number of long arm selfies we had in the gallery – a solo traveller curse. She thought I was also in my 20s (you can stay forever!) and then said she hoped she was like me when she’s my age (….i.mean…bit less so now…but it get the lovely sentiment!) #oldladytraveller #steadyonbabe #imnot76

Another day another gondola but it really is a beautiful way to see the sights, city and soak up the views in this ludicrously lush land.

Desended back to downtown and stopped for a drink at Foundation cafe. Plumped for cool refreshing juice – orange or fajoa were the options. Fajoa is a native Nz fruit and pops up a fair few places but i’ve yet to try it. What does fajoa juice taste like? I ask the server….”Ah sort’ve like a Fajoa”……that is unhelpful thank you. Plumped for it anyway and was, unsurprisingly, a fail. I’d best describe it a something you’d be prescribed by a medieval dentist. But you know, new cultures and all that jazz. Live and learn.

Downed my water and boarded the vintage tram for the city tour. 18 scenic stops across the centre, all set to an historic narrated soundtrack courtesy of the driver and guide. The people of Christchurch are clearly wildly passionate about where they live. Much like other cities I’ve visited who are internationally defined by their tragedy (Hiroshima very much the same) the people take real pride in telling recent tales of how they’ve rebuilt. And rebuilt they have, it’s an lovely, friendly place and I can absolutely see why Max moved here.

Next important stop was the Quake city museum . Its a really moving place, full of profound personal accounts and very harrowing depictions of the devastation caused by the earthquakes which destroyed so much of Christchurch in 2010 and 11. And they were massive, hitting a heartbreaking 7.1 and 6.3 magnitude on the richter scale.

Whist a lot of content was a hard read, as i’d been warned, it was important to see and fascinating to reflect on how the city is crawling out of such a dark time and rebuilding where able. The number of inner city car parks however remains a poignant reminder; ghostly gaps in the avenues a profound and permanent nod to the sheer number of buildings completely levelled by the quake.

Since no international travel trip would be complete without a visit to the Botanic Gardens, I headed for a sunset stroll before dinner. Epic and gorgeous as ever…

Then onward to Riverside Market and pulled up a stool at a craft beer wanker brewery pop up, Canterbury Brewers Collective. I’ve got quite into craft beer since being here on account of overdosing on wine in the first week. Plumped for a hazy pale ale (who even am i!) and people watched for a while.

I really loved it here. Much more than perhaps I was prepared to if previous visitors experiences were anything to go by. Maybe it was the sunny day, maybe the contrast from unhinged Franz Joseph, but im so glad I found time to make the pilgrimage.

A particular poignant, personal moment of this all too brief visit, was easily the final exhibit in the earthquake museum…

It was a large wooden carving, nodding to the Maori term “Te Ao HuriHuri.” It means the past is connected to the present, and life needs its difficult events to help us reconsider our path and reshape our future. Whilst clearly intended in relation to the harrowing experiences of the earthquake and not my relationships, it was still a tangible reminder for me that if it wasn’t for all the heartbreak, the imposed awful and the shit things of this past year, I might never be on the other side of the world reading it…I may never have planned this trip to find some much needed, unbridled joy. (It was also inexplicably next to a massive unsubtle poster of a Maersk shipping container, just in case I didn’t catch on! Cheers universe. I get the point!!)

Pondered for a while and felt proud of myself for doing this for me, in the face of some tricky challenges of late. I’m made of sterner stuff than I thought, and though some days the briars feel thorny, I’m getting there. One day at a time. One foot in front of the other.

Pinot noir, packing and preparing for Wellington tomorrow. The final kiwi stop and last of this first leg beckons. Bring it on x

Escaping Queenstown and heading up to the West coast for the scenic Transalpine train was a complete bloody logistical nightmare. Whilst this country is all scenic spectre (which makes it so special), easy accessibility sans car is not their forte!

Managed to negotiate a juggle of trips with west coast stops along the way, over the course of two and a bit days, to reach Greymouth and the train terminal by Friday.

Part 1 was a small group tour to Franz Joseph. A 12 hour on the road epic that would’ve done Jack Kerouac proud. Itinerary was jam-packed – a wild and winding journey up the west coast taking in sights such as Wanaka, the Tolkien esque Haast pass (wizard you shall not etc…) Fantail falls, Ship Creek, Bruce Bay, and Lake Mattheson before culminating in Franz Joseph, and if we were very lucky and the clouds cleared…maybe a Fox glacier finale. Tbc….

‘Small group tour’ a fair reflection, since it turned out to be just 2 of us! Marina from the central region of France and Colin, our hugely dull but nice enough, tour guide.

Everything underwhelmed Colin. Proof that perhaps a life of driving past these natural wonders on a daily basis eventually becomes the norm, but alas, a bit of spark might’ve been nice to keep the tour alive. God bless Marina – she was a joy and digging deep in her aquired english arsenal to ask interesting questions and accompany the drive with the oohs and ahhhs the journey deserved. He, however, was very much a Colin by name and nature (Colin Goodwin and maybe the Caterpillar, being the only two exceptions I’ve ever met to challenge the dry and boring Colin rule) soz to other Colins out there, please disprove my stats, but we are we we are right now.

First stop was much recommended Wanaka for a potter in the shops and cafes and, of course, a pilgrimage to the famous Wanaka tree. Colin told us an interesting tale (I know!) that popularity mounted after a photo was included on a Chinese tourism website proclaiming the places in the world people must visit – wanaka bizarrely in at number one. In dutiful fashion, thousands of Chinese tourists apparently flock to see the tree every year, and today was no exception. We had arrived at stupid o’clock, so beat the crowds and were treated to a crunchy carpeted avenue of autumn leaves leading to the spot.

Really is a sight to behold, sat languishing out on the lake… lonely but lofty. Such a treat to be here in the autumn, my favourite of all the seasons (white woman’s instagram etc) but asides from Japan and maybe the Californian and Canadian coast I’m yet to see somewhere who can do autumnal-awesome quite the same.

Highlights of the long drive included an array of waterfall pit stops, gaining in grandeur – Fantail falls, Thunder creek and culminating in the aptly named and natured Roaring Bill falls. Traversed the tidal path to get there, trundling across the rock and rubble like something from prehistoric times. You can’t capture the sheer size and scale of the basin without seeing with your own eyes, but it was massive. And thanks to shoulder season, empty, so just the two of us rattling around (Colin waited in the car…obvs!)

Not so highlights included approximately 850 dead possums on the road. Talk about a million ways to die in the west!!! Roadkill is _everywhere_ which considering how many people actually live here, I reckon most must have a possum to person kill rate to rival John Wick.

We swung into the aply named Hunter’s Lodge in Haas for our lunch stop, and both went for their famous venison burger. Deer farms are a big deal on this coast, and the decor a not so subtle suggestion that they do it well. Also, accompanied by possibly the best chips i think I’ve ever had…and unfortunately, more of Colin’s chat! (those chips though…..)

Notable stops post lunch included Ship Creek, for a tropical rainforest hike and the hunt for blue mushrooms! A bizarre New Zealand native flourescent fungus that crop up unexpectedly throughout the undergrowth. The landscape has changed almost constantly despite being on the same coast the whole way, so a real insight into the diverse types of terrain Nz has to offer.

Here is also where I provided a tasty treat for sand flies who chomped my cankles a charm, despite the “homemade insect repellent” a naturalist friend of Colin’s had made and he encouraged we douse ourselves with before leaving the van. Wandered the walkways and wondered what on earth we’d smothered on our extremities and tried to ignore it until sanitiser was in sight back at the carpark!!

This stop was also where we were lucky enough to spot Hector dolphins in the wild. Famed as a rare find, to see almost 15 in a proud pod, popping above and below the surface of the shore was pretty magical and even think I saw Colin crack a smirk (though post lunch, could’ve been indigestion…)

The final stretch was onward and upwards to Franz Joseph and a final stop at Lake Mattheson for a walk to the mirror lake lookout. Around a 30-minute atmospheric amble through thick rainforest cover, the rain trickling through the treetops, made for a lovely little yomp and the majestic lake at the end made it worthwhile and then some.

Albeit long and accompanied by Colin, Marina and I had an incredible day’s drive stuffed full of wild west coast best bits ‘ snow capped mountains, rainforests, waterfalls, lakes and a veritable schmorgesboard of supplementary scenery across the 350km to Franz.

Piece de resistence was a final and very fortunate glimpse at Fox glacier and Mount cook through the clouds. The low hanging fog en route had threatened this option heavily, and to be fair to Colin, he managed our expectations well. So we were both delighted to turn the corner into the lookout spot to see the luminous blue of the ice slick, sliding down the mountain like something out of a James Bond opening scene.

My only plan for my 1 day here in Franz Joseph was a helicopter flight and stop on the glacier. However, due to the howling weather, it was unfortunately cancelled. A real shame, but the luck and luxury was going to catch up with me at some point, so never mind, eh! What made it slightly trickier was that there isn’t a tonne to do in a tiny town, who’s entire tourism offering relies on outdoor activities and nice weather. 

I went in search of alternatives and met a woman in the local information centre who was really helpful. Once I’d regathered my pelvic floor after the suggestion, I should go kayaking (!!! I mean, truly….can you imagine!) I decided on the West Coast Wildlife Centre and a massage!

The wildlife centre dined out largely on its Kiwi sanctury status and was also playing the Millennium album by Backstreet Boys on a continuous loop; so I think we can all agree, a strong start there. Guided tour a bit pointless as mainly focused on Tuatara, a reptile thing a bit like a mini iguana. They neglected to mention in the advertising they haven’t actually had kiwi eggs at their hatchery for 3 seasons….so a bit of a swizz. Katie, who ran the tour, also unhinged reptile obsessive who didn’t want anyone to touch anything (including the chairs we were sitting on?!) so I tried to make minimal sudden movements and not directly question the kiwi thing… but it was basically £35 to look at a bunch of empty cabinets. Couldn’t help but feel you too can create the same day trip by getting a local oddball to show you round an abandoned GCSE science lab…

There was a final walk through with 2 (yep 2….!) Kiwis to see in full darkness, and no photography allowed, so you’ll just have to take my word for it. They are absolutely hilarious birds look like they’re about to topple over the entire time.

They also lay massive eggs- poor loves! Then exhausted, leave the father to do everything after that, which if you’ve just given birth to the equivalent of a 35lb baby….I’d be kicking back too!! 

Went for a massage at the luxury hotel spa (I was not staying at, boo!), and all was well again! I want to feel like I’ve got 10 rounds with Tyson at a massage, so I’ve learnt never to underestimate a tiny masseuse.  Cue Noora who pummelled me to a pulp. Marvellous.

Had dinner at a lovely little historic establishment called Alice May. Our eponymous restauranteur a scorned woman who shot her abusive lover when he jilted her following the still born birth of their baby. The restaurant is run by Alice’s grandaughter and is stuffed full of great propaganda about her case. Sounded like she was mistreated terribly, and Bill West, her partner, was a total prick… Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and all that.

She shot him in the head point blank and turned gun in herself, but miraculously survived (with a bullet lodged in her brain) and was sentenced (by a jury of 12 men and no women) to life imprisonment and hard labour in 1915, despite the violence she suffered.

The injustice of the harsh sentence, not matched my any other man serving for the same crime (shocker!) led to huge campaigns for her release across Nz at the time. In 1921, after 6 years of labour, she was released on strict probation. She happily went on to live a better life, found love with a carpenter 2 years later, and had 6 children – her granddaughter now owns the restaurant and keeps her story alive.

Inspiring stuff…especially if an actual murderer can find a new boyfriend within two years of release, surely there is hope for muggins.

Glad of only 1 night here in Franz Joseph on account of it being utterly mental quite frankly. The whole population of the town is 90! Which is about ⅙ of the people who live on my road! So I think says all we need to know….

Heading for Christchurch tomorrow via the scenic Trans Apline train through the southern alps. Tipped as one of the World’s Greatest Train Journeys, so i’m excited to see what it has in store.

Here’s to a decent night’s sleep and getting the hell outta dodge in the morning! x

Attempted to see Nightlife of Queenstown (there’s a party girl in there somehwhere!) Alas everyone was 22, and I am very much not that…so was mixed reviews, to be honest…

Plumped for Pog Mahones (you can alllllways rely on an Irish bar!) and watched the clientele get slowly more smashed as the night wore on, from my disapproving table in the corner. Listened to some decent live music courtesy of “Dave & Joe” (could use a PR rebrand) and nursed my elderly disposition with rum and ginger ale.

That was until I was saved by a group on a golf tour (always golfers!), who asked to join my table and keep me company. Pat, Gerry, Michael and Paul (disciples, Beatles…?) whatever they were, they were an utter joy….and before you start thinking, things are looking up on the handsome man front, Emma…all very much in their 70s! Michael was 83 and had won their annual tournament. It has been going for 25 years, and they even have their own trophy and green jacket emblazoned with their tour logo awarded to the winner. We talked about Rory finally securing his grand slam, impressed by my extensive acquired knowledge, they encouraged me to take up lessons.

Gerry had cancer, 1 remaining lung, and kept going out for a smoke! Proclaiming “life was for living, Emma” and saying they were proud of me for travelling solo “go on girl” and a lot of high 5s. Covered my bar bill for most of the evening and were truly gems be around. Said they were keeping a look out for eligible bachelors at the bar for me. Pat kept saying, “Trouble is Emma, everyone is rent an arsehole in Queenstown,” and no one was good enough for me. Don’t make gents like they used to, eh!!

They then all jeered at Michael and called him a pussy for going home at midnight (….he’s 83!) and the rest outlasted me! Propping up the bar till closing no doubt…

I headed solo to Ballarat bar which is the best place to end a night in Queenstown apparently…shades of Infernos on a very small scale. Sticky floors, wildly inebriated patrons and perhaps the worst dancing I’ve ever seen. And we all know, i’m no Usher Raymond, so that gives you some clear perspective. Decided to leave when DJ mashed up Sweet Caroline with Swedish House Mafia ….

Strolled back to hotel for decent sleep ahead of Sunday at the Autumn Festival in Arrowtown. 

Arrowtown, incidentally, is adorable. Plastered in picture perfect autumnal vistas, not out of place in a Bob Ross painting.

It’s probably best described as if Wes Anderson built a set for a Western in Nz. Nick, the tour guide, did a free 1hr walking tour of the town as part of festival celebrations. Really interesting and informative. Stumbled upon in 1862, it established itself as a gold rich town and has strong history of mining, a pioneering port of the Nz gold rush.

Fair few dropped off as we went round which I always find so awkward (shit review much!) and culminated in maybe 5 remaining of the original 30 odd. Made my excuses when the tail end of the tour became less about Arrowtown and more about Nick’s decision to move, his unfavourable commentaty about his ex wife and personal offer of additional stop at the pub for a drink after. Good to see that I still have the magnets for ’emotionally unavailable but like to think they’re complex’ men, even in this hemisphere! Eye roll.

Seemingly got the pisshead express back to Queenstown courtesy of coinciding with kicking out time at the Pie, Pints and and Pinot event taking place on the village green. Live music, breweries and a lotta lotta pinot if bus clientele to be believed. Serenaded by terrible performances of Johnny Cash, Frankie Valli and a particularly shocking Ed Sheeran on the 30 mins home.

Swung back through Queenstown and the queue for Fergburger? A miraculous 10 min wait! So, soldiered through my carbohydrate coma (ergh!) and tried a different burger from the menu. I’d been recommended the “Chief Wighum” several times, two giant slabs of pork belly and a hash brown in it. An impossible to eat feat. Delish, but man, I need some vegetables!

Food here is like the UK 30 years ago, all pastry, bread and pie and barely a green in sight. I can only assume people keep so healthy from all the hiking as it’s not to be found in the restaurants and bars here!

Had a lovely facetime with the fam and slept for 10 hours!

Monday was overcast, so a chilly wander soaking up cafe and bar culture. Made the final Ferg finish line with a drink at Mrs Ferg’s. Lovely looking bar, but perhaps the worst cocktail i’ve ever had in my life. Which considering I’ve drunk lumimous blue cocktails mixed in a plastic dustbin at Uni…is quite the accolade!!!  A “jungle funk” to be precise and basically just bitter liquid smoke in an icy glass. Read my kindle and reordered a French Martini…

Sushi for dinner at cute little Sushi Train restaurant. Marvelled at the Skinkansen, bringing my dinner and thought fondly ahead to Tokyo, then dutifully inhaled on account of everything shutting by 8pm rule. Overheard a man in the park today tell his wife, through thick kiwi drawl, it was “a bit too bloody late for lunch darl” it was 1pm….

Spent my final day in Queenstown, visiting the Queenstown Gardens and the rest of the next few hours wondering why I hadn’t made it here earlier…utterly beautiful. Pristine display of autumnal perfection. Wandered the crispy leaves, meandered through the mammoth pines and surveyed the lake from my bench like I was in a Jane Austen novel. Perched for a while to watch the paragliders over the lake, read my latest book and had one of the most scenic pieces of chocolate I might ever have in life.

Doing my upmost to savour the brain pictures here and not get too adjusted to the awe of it all. Really such an utterly beautiful place.

Wandered past one of the many Apiaries in Nz (pretended I knew than Apiary was the name for a bee hive house before now…) read amazing fact that it is estimated one third of all the food we eat relies on bees for pollination. Savoured the info on save the bees which they are really trying to do in abundance here and was glad they were accommodating enough not to sting me.

Praise be I found a real life salad!!!

I got a Ceaser salad takeaway from a restaurant bar and took it to Perky’s, a cute little bring your own food floating bar on a boat on the lake of Wakatipu. Obviously empty at 1.30, as we know, far too late for lunch! And realise very quickly they have to have bring your own food appeal as you also need the sturdiest sea legs around to counteract the rocking. Trying to drink a pint like being on one of the vibrating muscle plates from QVC. Downed it and the salad as quickly as possible, without projectile reappearance of either, and got back to “dry land.” The pirate life most deffo ain’t for me!

Wandered down to Steamer Wharf for a nice glass of Pinot Noir (which they’re famed for here) at Boardwalk bar, savoured the view, read a few more chapters and tried to shake off the swaying.

Caught a pinky purple sunset on the promenade of Public, and tried some local craft beers watching the sun disappear over the Remarkables. #craftbeerwanker

Grabbed a lamb pie from Ferg Bakery for final night dinner and toasted a time when every meal wasn’t covered in pastry.

Early night as the adventure continues with a trip up the west coast to Franz Joseph tomorrow via Wanaka for more sights of the south. x

Flight down to Queenstown from Auckland was so beautiful. Thanks Crouch for the great tip on securing a window seat as the views were amazing on the 2hr flight here.

Lake Wakatipu, which anchors the centre of town, is majestic. It’s so incredibly scenic and beautiful. It doesn’t look like it’s real. The water is so enticingly blue and twinkly in the autumnal April sunshine.

Day 1 arrival was around 6 pm, so once I’d navigated the bus network, Instagram vs. reality strikes with actual eve consisting of room service, washing, and more Khardashians for me!

Day 2 was was the start of exploring a very chilly Queenstown, bought a hat and gloves as first stop, it’s freezing versus the north. Unprepared and optimistic as ever.

Wandered the shops and lanes to get my bearings. Super cute little alpine villagey feel. It’s almost artificial but really lovely town with lovely people. Can see why this place will swarm with skiers when the snow rolls through in a couple months time.

Headed to famed “Ferg Row” in search of lunchtime goods. Fergburger is Queenstown’s most famous institution and has since been joined happily by Ferg Bar, Ferg Baker (…..Ferg candlestick maker?!?!) And Ferg Gelato. I will, of course, try all whilst here but plumped for a lunchtime Pie (for my research) and a Boston Cream doughnut…their best seller. Just a massive doughnut stuffed full of fresh cream. Tasty, but neither blew my mind. Despite the most scenic lunch I’ve had in a long time. Pie Rolla of Auckland still takes the crown, many more pies to discover. I will dutifully accept the artery restricting challenge!

I’ll tackle Ferg Burger later in the week…

My casual day of getting my bearings turned into 16,000 steps and 12 hours of wandering and adventures.

Headed up to the Sky Line cable car for epic views at Bob’s Peak, out over the lake and the Remarkables mountains.

This is also where I took on the Queenstown Luge. Established in 1967, the Luge is sort’ve like Mario Kart live and was ace!! Did my best Bowser, flying round the bends on each of the different tracks and cutting up families with slow kids on the inside. My F1 masterclass has taught me well. Took an array of comedy snaps and got told to slow down by the staff working at the end…..felt like the IT guy in the office. Delighted!

Friday promised another day of sun, so I crossed my fingers and plumped for my Milford Sound trip that day.

600km trip!! That’s over 370 miles. In a day! 13hrs. Absolute beast of a one-day trip. But needs must given that I didn’t fancy the solo drive, and the light aircraft flight there and back was the same as my flight to get here from London!!

Awful Canadian girl with feet on seats made no effort to accommodate me being sat next to her. Driver had to ask her to move, she eye rolled and tutted, and I thought, what a joyous companion for the 13-hour trip!

We were a couple short so I asked if I could move to a window seat over the aisle which the driver obliged…full bus of 60 collecting more people en route so enjoyed the peace and space for now.

Joined at next stop by gorgeous French Marc from Brittany (the handsome Marc’s are always Marc with a C) sucks to be you Canadian dickhead lady. She was joined by loud leaning-over-her-to-look-out-window chinese tourist, with no concept of personal space. Aint karma a bitch eh! Marc however, was painfully charming and good company on the very long drive to Milford sound, happy to do my duty to help practice his english for a few hours. It’s a hard life…..

Watched the weather go from brilliant sunshine to horrendous rain and fog. Brought back harrowing memories of leg break bridge visit, the visibility was that bad. But persevered and waited in the rain for the boat.

The Sounds themselves were beautiful and very scenic and picturesque. Like Jurassic Park set at sea.

Can’t help but feel we really didn’t get lucky with the weather and think they would’ve been all the more beautiful on a clear day. Did mean the bonus was lots of waterfalls which only appear when rainy. So that was a nice addition for sure.

Mildly obsessed by couple who were content creators on boat. Set up a full tripod camera and recording equipment for “candid” intricately posed shots. He had reflective visor sunglasses like he was in a Yeezy ad, and she had inflatable everything. Mesmerising. Made mental note to cling to her in case of capsize.

I did ask him to take my pic, and he didn’t disappoint with framing and somehow making my phone camera do stuff I didn’t know it could do.

Unsure about “glass roof coach” being much of a bonus on the rainy drive down, but when night fell (yes it really was that long a journey!!) we were treated to a bonus evening display of some of the most incredible stars I’ve ever seen!

I’ve only ever seen clearer stellar stuffed skies over the Utah desert on my last big travel trip, so it was so amazing to see the sky sans light pollution. Utterly gorgeous.

I absolutely love the night sky, am always dragging people outside to look up, setting alarms for silly hours in hopes of a glimpse of planets or comets or jumping up after 1hr in bed and getting fully dressed in the middle of the night to drive to a golf club car park (no not like that) to catch a glimpse of when the Northern Lights made it to bloody Bromley!!! Such a treat to be in this hemisphere not under the glare of the luminous lights of London town (and the pollution of the car garage on the street near my place) obscuring all the majesty.

Well-earned rest before another day stuffed full of sun in the south. So did what any sane person decided to do last min…jumped off a cliff.

With apologies to the Thurlow Clan, who I assured would not make rash decisions, but this was spontaneous much like my Skydive in Aus, and I figured life’s short and I’m getting old. Plus, the word on the street is the All Blacks team frequent in pre season, so it was worth a try, eh…

As expected, it was completely and utterly bum squeakingly incredible. Dubbed as the world’s number 1 Canyon Swing, given it was invented right here in Queenstown, it towered at a 109m drop with a heartstopping 60m free fall start.

I was somewhat unsurprised to discover I was the only person on my trip. I ended up with a private tour, which was great fun, but did mean no one else about for moral support (or a test run!!) Did, however, mean no time to think about what I was doing and just jumped!!! Ha

So glad i did it as I was truly treated to incredible views throughout the canyon and some once in a lifetime under the chin Go Pro footage to treasure (check instagram for the proof!)….

Got a Fergburger in celebration. 50-minute wait but a great bloody burger. Went for the Ferg Duluxe classic with cheese, and it was delish. Maybe because of the anticipation and deprivation, but really yum all the same.

Toasted a satisfyingly basic bitch Queenstown day complete – with required adrenelin junkie – junk food, craft beer triumvirate achieved.

Bring on the weekend x