Right Now I Sounded Like I Was Really Bent

 This post is a little bit emo, but I wrote it in my vulnerable state when I had an ear infection, no money for medicine and no family to help look after me. I got over it eventually, once I had a cup of concrete, but not before I wrote some pretty lame things.

Queenstown makes me feel refreshingly alive. Cliché no doubt, but finding my feet here has brought on a tumultuous whirlwind of emotions that give me the feeling of being reborn. It has to do with being outside of my comfort zone I believe. The initial isolation of being in a different city, away from all my great friends and family, meant that it was up to me to provide motivation instead of receiving it. My excellent friends in Townsville were such a fantastic motivation that I grew lazy and rarely did anything of my own accord. I would simply stand on the shoulders of giants and coast along. Any problems I had at all I could discuss with one of the best big brothers a white boy could ask for, or the most supportive parents a reckless, indecisive and adventure hungry son ever had. Here I feel alive simply because I have everything to do myself, and it’s liberating. My mistakes are my own, and I have to deal with them mostly by myself. I have made some great new friends here, who are excellent to have around me so that I’m not entirely helpless. There is a lot to learn, and for some reason being at home the world felt so comfortable and cosy it was easy to forget the rest of the world that is out there. The cultural complexities of different races were somehow lost on me in Townsville but here they intrigue and inspire me.  Despite this I miss home. Sometimes so much that it hurts a little and this startles me. I’ll get a sudden urge to just fly home and go back to coasting, where no one really relied on me. Somewhere I could just float in my life that felt as if it had no real meaning. In Townsville I was just another retail employee unsure of what to do with his career, no girlfriend, no permanent home, no cool traits, no exceptional looks and no astonishing talents. The epitome of mediocrity. In Queenstown I still have no career path, but that doesn’t seem to matter here. I’m the Aussie from over the ditch reaping the rewards of New Zealand’s beautiful mountains, who hits the slopes almost as hard as he hits the bottle. Someone who is crazy enough to agree to beers any time and gullible enough to buy them. Here I feel like I’m different, I’m not just someone coasting along in retail on an impressive enough wage (compared to the rest of the world), I am an outsider. Townsville was such a bubble for me that I would think about how many people there were in the world but not truly understand, simply because I would rarely meet different people. Meeting new friends over here has totally reformed my conceptualisation on all matters, and although I appreciate the people over here it has made me fully appreciate the group I had at home and what they would so willingly do for me without hesitation.

I know this is bizarre but I feel like in Townsville I had no real emotions, I was too comfortable amongst awesome friends and wonderful family. This is probably just the memory playing tricks on the mind but I had nothing to feel overly emotional about. My days were the same and each week was like the last except for that it was closer to the end of a repetitive year.  All I would ever do is appreciate how lucky I was, with the unremitting love of my parents, a friend I could discuss anything with or rely on for anything. Here is different. I am still lucky in that I have the opportunity to experience a different culture. Here there is a new surprise to be had each day, around every corner a new smiling face from a new fantastic place. Here, being out of my comfort zone, my jealousy is sharper, my laughter is louder. My disappointment is deeper and my satisfaction is tenfold. I notice more around me instead of simply walking along consumed solely in an empty mind state.  The trees here snare my attention, as no tree at home had done since I was a kid. The sky makes for an exceptional recreation; I could merely stare at the horizon for hours with my ipod on if I had the time. I miss home like I used to miss my mum when I was dropped at preschool. I have not missed anything like this for a very long time, and although it’s a queasy feeling I quite like it. I feel like I’m becoming a kid again, ruled by my emotions as they are ignited by things that should be trivial. The breeze here actually has a cool bite, and it makes me smile when it swirls through my jackets and causes me to shiver. The air is so cold and crisp that I sometimes get the urge to just laugh out loud in joy. Fires crackle and provide a fierce heat in combat to the cold nights. Two extremes that make my mind wander. Fires that keep you warm are so much more interesting to me than air conditioners that keep you cool. The way the flames dance is mesmerising. The views are breathtaking, and I often just stop and look in order to get my fix of the emotions the mountains and lakes can stir. Smoke rises from chimneys, someone walks past with a snowboard. Ah snowboards. I love taking out my tools and changing the setup of my board, inspecting the scratches on it and planning the rails that might result in new ones. Nailing a board slide on the down box makes my heart swell as if Christmas was coming and I was six once more. If I shred down the Remarks Park without falling over in a perfect run, mixing up grabs, board slides, tail presses and 5-O’s I get home with a smile on my face that should really split my head in two. The nights after a good day on the slopes I could just sleep forever in an avalanche of contentment, warm beneath a blanket. And I love the blankets here! They actually serve a purpose, I find it hard to leave mine in the morning and it’s as if I was sleeping in on Sunday and mum was asking me to go to Church when I was young. And you get so cold when you’re young, even if it isn’t cold.

Pretty much, despite missing my best friend, my mum and dad, brothers and all my friends and family, I feel as if I am young again in Queenstown. I could not be happier.

The Town Where Gravity is a Toy

What can I say about this week? It has been madness, mayhem and most mischievous.  The great thing about Queenstown is there is always someone willing to knock back a man handle in one of the plethora of pubs situated in this picturesque town. Six nights in a row I ventured out into the wild nightlife in New Zealand’s tourist capital, with work threatening a hard day of recovery after four of those sessions. Some nights I was out only till midnight or just after with a six o’clock wakeup looming forebodingly in the morning, but these nights were still exceptional. Drinks often started at the hostel down the end of my street, The Flaming Kiwi, which hosts a variety of likeable characters who must be getting annoyed by now by my constant presence.  My mother would worry when she reads this and consider me an alcoholic, but I consider myself more of a socialite. I’ve met some great people, some of who can shred epic lines in the park up at Remarks. It’s awesome to share a few drinks and conversation over a cold beer or three.

After one of my larger nights out I woke up at 12.30 on my day off feeling mostly refreshed after the much needed sleep in. I probably would have slept longer except for the fact that I’d received a message from a mate at work inviting me around for some beers. The most relaxing afternoon I’ve had in a long time ensued. The Scottish lad who had me round had just been to Australia and was playing a calm mix of tunes on his laptop while we necked Tui’s in a hot tub. The best thing about a hot tub in QT is the view, the mountains and lake in the surrounding areas are phenomenal. Listening to music and just unwinding in a hot tub made for a time that I’ll fondly remember.

Work is becoming a little bit of a chore now. I still enjoy it enough but unlike at home in the Ville where work took precedence and stopped me going out most of the time; here I am slowly starting to go the other way. I’m not here to work I’m here to snowboard, and if the culture surrounding that involves beers and babes than I’m not going to argue. 

The ladies here are so nice. I’ve not found myself one yet, so don’t expect any illegitimate grandkids mum (least I hope my mum reads my blog cause no one else will), but I’ve managed to get myself into the friendship zone with a whole bunch. Yay.... But I honestly like the companionship of an English stunner that rides pow in Heliski and hits kickers better than I do. Or the Irish girls that drink more alcohol than I’ve even seen in my life. Unfortunately if I drink I don’t normally make it up the hill the next day, and if I do I’m shaky on my board and can’t even stick 50-50’s on the easy boxes.

My snowboard has taken a bit of a battering on the boxes lately, and I’ve tweaked my bindings slightly to a wider stance with my toes facing out from my shoulders more at 15 degrees each foot. This board is going to be my rail board, as it’s a sturdy 147 box scratcher. Recently I was in at a few snow stores chatting about possibly getting a new style of board for powder, because the 147 with my weight on it had no flotation in the deep stuff whatsoever. Everywhere I went said the board was too short for riding anything other than park. In my hazy minded hangover state I put a new K2 Fastplant on Layby. The 2012 model, 154cm with bamboo core and an industry leading 5 year warranty was a bit of a steal at $600, and would ride pretty well in pow for my height and weight. Although going bigger probably would have been a better option, 157 max I reckon. So I decided to do some research on what size boards people normally have after the 75kg salesperson told me that he never rode shorter than a 161 all over the mountain. It turns out he’s one of a kind, as all the pro’s that I googled rode 147-149 for rails, 150-154 for park and 157 for powder and no more. I now have a setup for the first two, although my park board is probably too long for me in park and too short for me in powder. Over the next few weeks I am going to decide whether I am going to use the K2 Fastplant as my slightly long park board or my slightly short powder board. At this stage my intentions are to keep the Libtech Boxscratcher as my rail board, K2 as a powder board, and get myself a new present in the Torstein Horgmo edition of the DC range, 150.5 ply. The reports on ply boards have been exceptional so I’m itching to try one out; I may hit up one of the trial boards in at Quest or Select. It’s a little silly that I’m considering buying a new board even though I haven’t finished paying off my second, but it’s the kind of sport where I just want to try everything and find the right fit. My progression this season hasn’t been great, but I’ve still enjoyed it heaps. I haven’t been up as often as I would like mainly due to the fact I work all blooming week. At home I didn’t mind work because there was nothing better to do in an Army town with no real attractions. Here I’ve got the allure of snowboarding, mountain biking, hiking, the luge, exceptional nightlife, skydiving, bungee jumping and all manner of cool things. The lads at work are all great dudes though, which makes it a little less onerous.

Getting work so quickly has been a little bit of a disappointment. Every time I spoke to someone in Townsville they were always questioning me on whether I had got a job yet, which somehow got into my unconscious and forced my hand a little. I went straight into work and found immediately that I couldn’t get the amount of riding I wanted to get done in. It was bullshit. But at least it made everyone at home a little happier.  I’m still content with the things I’ve learnt, most of it coming from a lesson with a gorgeous American blonde girl who rode like a pro. Hitting down boxes and tweaking to board slide nose press is awesome fun when you pull it off. The season is close to finishing now, which I’m dreading. Although I got my money’s worth with my season pass I still feel that I haven’t been up enough, and that I could have gotten loads better if I had been up more.  As it is with all the tourists leaving I’m soon to become the worst boarder on the mountain because the beginners are all going home. I’m already considering not going home to visit Townsville at the end of the year and instead using my money to go to Japan and ride a different type of snow to develop my style. By then I should have one or two new boards perfect for the conditions. I would love to go to Canada but the flights are so much more expensive and I want to save up a bigger amount and head there for a year or so. Next year I don’t want to work at all during the season and just hit it hard but I doubt I’ll have the coin for that as well as Canada and Japan which I want to do. It’s just so easy to want to do everything. I’m thinking if I keep working over the whole summer and through next winter in NZ, with boarding on the weekends and maybe a short two week holiday of intense riding, I might have enough money to head to Canada with my working visa and get a job there for a year. That will be my first back to back winter, and I’m sure I’ll be less hopeless by the end of that. No doubt I’ll change my mind at the end of the week, because this place just feels like its opened up so many more possibilities than home, but at this stage I’m just loving Queenstown and the people and I couldn’t think of a better place to call home.

Wandering Through Wonders

Not all too much is happening as of late. Checked out a new house up on Frankton Rd, not far from Alexis Motor Lodge and a short enough walk to town when alls said and done. Cheapest house I've seen in a while and I get a room all to myself with a big old double bed. This place isnt available until September but im pretty sure I'm keen on securing a little bit of privacy, despite my current housemates being choice company. Thats if nothing better comes up between now and then.

After work most of my nights involve chucking on my ipod, my skinny jeans from Quest and buying a box of beers before heading out on a search to buy friends with free Tui. Normally I head to a nearby backbacker where a mate from work is staying. Its nice to just chill with a couple of brews, a couple of bros and chat quietly instead of raging too hard. Work can be a menacing foe when you have too good a night.

One of the lads at Apex needs the Monday off next week, and has swapped me for this Friday. I've been going up all of my weekends (which is Monday Tuesday) but the latest one was particularly busy up the hill, and I'm hoping that Friday will be quiet. I hate when there is a line at the park, it makes me so self conscious when I roll slowly over the boxes and rails and pull 180's and grabs over the kickers. If its quiet enough on Friday I want to blast some heavy beats, get myself pumped and my blood flowing before I try a few more rotations, just to try push it. Going over the kickers at Remarks gets some fairly impressive air. Impressive in my mind anyhow, its nothing like what I want to be able to do; but in my head I'm better at everything than I really am.

So after a quiet night at the Flaming Kiwi with Alan from work and a Irishman I've been hitting up the hill with (not to mention a chat to a lovely and artistic lady) it was time to update the blog before resting up for work. Hopes all is well with everyone else in the world tonight, because my levels of content are epicly proportioned.

Settling In

After moving into my cosy sharehouse I scored a job at Apex Car Rentals. Prior the this the call centre got one night out of me and I didnt even bother giving them my bank account details to be paid for the trial. That place was a souless vaccuum hell bent on the consumption of everyone's self esteem and good will. Phone call after phone call of abuse, I was almost too scared to answer my mobile the next day when the Manager of Apex was calling me in for an interview.  Luckily I did because it turned out that I was to be offered a job working with some of New Zealands best comedy in a witty Scottsman, a typical Irishman and a dry humoured Canadian. These lads were priceless to work with because their recipe for making a day fly quickly is to smash out as many jokes about as many topics as they could. Working at Apex had more than just perks like occassionally taking a rental car home to drop it off for a customer in town the next morning. It had a good bunch of lads, a variety of different chores during the day and the best view of the Remarks a groomer could ask for.

Then came the arctic front. One and a half metres of fresh powder at the top of the peaks, up to half a metre of the white down in town. I was living in a winter wonderland. Snow fights erupted at work as the frost on the roads made it impossible to pick up dirty cars to clean or to drop clean ones off.  My days off clashed beautifully with a trip up to Remarks on Tuesday 16th, which miraculously saw a pocket of sunshine bless the slopes with its presence at about 11.00am. The clouds were all around the carpark and the shoulders of the mountain, resting like a giant white crown. Above the crown the sun shone brilliantly and I laid down some of the best lines of my trip in knee deep powder. Even bailing was like heaven, falling softly into a bed of pillows everytime I cased it. The soft landings inspired me to go hard, and I hit up some kickers and rails in an attempt to add more aspects to my beginner riding skills. Managed to score a few indy and nose grabs that werent just a tap on the board as I went over a bump. Getting decent air was a little worrying at first, especially after my first jump resulted in my smashing my rump so hard I thought I'd soiled myself. But once I started nailing consistent jumps I was pleased as punch and rode away to claim it.

Today is a day I'm wasting on organising a bank account so Apex can pay me, and then I can start saving up for Canada or Japan either this year or next year. Maybe even Tahoe in America.  I want to do a season somewhere where I can not work the whole season and just board, but that looks a little unlikely on the New Zealands minimum wage.

Tomorrow the Remarks is my destination. And having scored half price jacket and pants from Amazon in the mall (both 15000 waterproof), I'm gonna be furthering my shreducation in a new outfit. As long as I play some heavy hitting tunes on my Ipod and dont go to the shitty ice ridden Concrete Peak I normally have a good day riding. All I got to do is push myself so that I dont stagnate as a crappy boarder and then I might actually develop some skills. As expensive as it is to live in Queenstown, the lifestyle surely makes it a place to be.

Adventure Week Down and My Feet Hit the Ground

After a week and a half of snowboarding, recovery massages and a really expensive salt bath it was time to say goodbye to my good mates and end the holiday. Or so I thought. Saying goodbye at an airport is never easy, but as I stepped out the doors knowing I wasn't going home to Townsville like the rest of them I couldn't supress a feeling of excitement tainted by the smallest amount of angst. All I could keep thinking was, Please God don't let me blow all my money, stuff this up and have to go back home. But if this was to be the case, it was however many less weeks spent in Townsville.

Nomads was the only place with availability for a whole week, and I figured it was a good bases for myself where I would call home and look for work from. My first new friend I made there was an Argentinian named Gaston, who came to NZ to work and for the rugby world cup. We decided to look for a place together to make it cheaper and also gave each other a heads up whenever there was a job going.  Brazzers was the venue for a few social beers before heading out to Altitude and the biggest arse kicking in pool I've had in ages. After my humiliation I called it an early night and headed back to Nomads.

Unfortunately for Gaston he lost his job at the hostel and was kicked out. This put an acceleration on his need to find a place, and before long he found a bed at a sharehouse on Fryer st. Being on the inside he was able to give me a heads up for a bed becoming available the week after he got there, so I paid a deposit and had to follow through with my stay at Nomads to wait for the person in my bed to move out. Job hunting was now my main priority, and it was fairly successful until the three rowdiest english ladies I've ever met entered my dorm when I was resting with my Ipod on (Triple J Friday Night Mixup). This put a standby on job hunting, because then ensued a destructive cyclone of nights out in the famous nightlife of Queenstown. Thanks to a top bloke buying me a bottle of scotch as a going away present I had something to share, and I traded a few nips for some bacon with some soup kitchen specialists from Perth. Between the three pommy girls and the lads I had randomly met over $4 per kilo bacon we had a funky mix of people geared up for a drinking session.

Then the card games started. International drinking games I had never heard of before had rules flying at me from drunken mouths in no time, and it was intense. These games were designed for one purpose. Intoxication. Beautiful girls, good drinking buddies, and a Fergburger made that one of the best nights I have ever had. And thanks to a little encouragement from a random stranger when I took my jacket off under the heater in front of Fergburger, I stripped completely naked in the middle of Shotover Street to a crowd of cheering drunks. Being approximately -8 degrees and raining, I was too cold to put my clothes back on, and luckily had Andrea to help me. Fully clothed once more I headed back to Nomads, their soft bed and the hangover that awaited me in the morning.

The next three nights contained similar stories of drinking; great people, insane conversations, wet t-shirt competitions, cheap drinks for taking your shirt off, passwords for free grog, and $1000 bar tabs at the world bar. Drinking from tea pots is lethal when its filled with Long Island Iced Teas. After gaining a reputation for being the guy who always took his clothes off when he got drunk I made a conscious effort to tone it down. In no time my stay at Nomads was up, and I had to move into my shareroom at Fryer St. Saying goodbye to the Perth boys, the Brisbane lads and the Goldcoast cads was hard, as I'll miss their comradeship as brothers in arms fighting under the fog of inebriation. As of today, 1st of August,  I havent said goodbye to the gorgeous English ladies, as I have a hope to see them again before they leave on Thursday.  I have positive feedback on a job in a call centre, which is dull work for a reasonable rate of pay in the NZ currency, but other than that I'm still applying for jobs like a rabied dog applies its teeth to its favourite toy. By the end of this week, I hope to be employed, and then I'll work myself up a bond payment and get my own place. A place of solitude and seduction. This town has been so unbelievably good to me, and I hope it continues to do so.

Skipping Ahead

The flight to Queenstown was made longer by the fact that snow was ravaging the airport in a ferocious attempt to make up for its lack of presence early in the season.  After being stopped at customs and asked why on earth I was trying to move to NZ the bus ride from Dunedin where we were forced to land took 4 hours and smelt of grotty old men. At least however our flight made it. Unlike Benny and Rachy who's flight got cancelled out of Brisbane which saw them shacking up in a hotel for the night waiting for the next available airfare.

After resting up in the wonderful Alexis Motor Lodge for a couple of days in between organising lift passess and bus rides to the wonderful peaks around Queenstown the first morning of snowboarding came round.  Unfortunately so did the snow. 5 glorious centimetres in the heart of queenstown itself, and up to 70 cm in some spots on the mountains.  The buses weren't running, so the mountains were inaccessible. Chains were to be worn at all times but weren't always reliable, my trek down into town saw me witness no less than five crashed cars due to the slippery road conditions. My walk down to town couldn't have been more than 700 metres. 

A rest day was taken thanks to the weather, then up the mountain the next day. Just as I remembered. The sweet crunch of snow under my boots made love to my ears, bringing an erotic smile to my wind chilled face.  Strapping into my board Natalie was like finding that spot in the girl you likes eye, where you could just stare forever and be happy. My first few turns were sketchy, but the powder made any landings soft if I bailed.  I was back on a board, my cheeks were cold, but all that managed to do was freeze the smile I had on in place.

Brisneyland to NZ

Shit son. I’m in Brisneyland and I’ve just been dropped off by one best mate to another best mate’s house. Danni Tully greets me with a big hug when she gets home, and I meet her rad new boyfriend Alex. For the second time, I’d previously met him under the name Stixie and had been wondering why Alex looked so much like him in the pictures on FB. (Face Book for all you oldies squinting through binoculars at your PC screen) 

I’m excited now because its only a few days out from flying into Queenstown and even better is the fact that Snowbiz in Brisbane is calling to me like Ron Burgendy to his news team. 

The old cracked goggles at the bottom of my suitcase get a shiny new friend all housed up in a box the next day. Anon Figment goggles with a sick mirror lense. Im now even more pumped up to go to NZ.  Bert the big man I'm travelling with gets the freshest pair of Electric goggles with Redfire lenses I've ever seen, but only his big frame could pull off something so gnarly. 

A few days later and its the day before we leave. Rachy and Ben fly into Brisbane to meet us before the flight out. We take Ben to Snowbiz and he checks out bindings and boots for his sexual little board. Fluro orange is the call for the bindings, and they look mint along with his black boots. The last night sleeping is restless, but its over now and seems like nothing compared to the flight to NZ.