It's 1:30 p.m. Saturday, the sun is bright and the ocean breeze is blowing my hair in my face and flapping the sides of my flannel button-up. The water is turbulent and tossing the ferry, but fortunately I don't suffer from seasickness. I like the way the rocky motion shakes my stomach like I'm riding a kiddie rollercoaster.
This afternoon we left the North Island on the Bluebird Ferry to travers Cook's Straight and to begin traveling in the South Island.
We had spent five days and four nights in Wellington, the countries capital city, where we met a host of interesting and hospitable people, including Kyle a cyclist whose wheels had taken him around the world and were temporarily parked in the city to earn money for his next tour; Simon a man who picked us up hitchhiking and invited us to meet his lovely wife and son and offered us a place to stay, transportation to and from our various obligations (immigration office and Guy Fawkes party), and multiple numbers to reach him if we were in need of assistance; and Emma, Robbie and Annie who invited us to their potluck party, to share their abode for a night and to stay with Annie's folks in Nelson once we landed in the South.
The city was good to us, and thanks to meeting Annie we now have contacts in Nelson.
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