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    Dag 755 – En helvedestur og en fosterstilling

    (Kun engelsk…)

    Uh, we’ve had the first frost this morning, the lady in the reception tells me this morning. It didn’t exactly diminish the joy of having just spent the night in a soft, comfortable bed in an otherwise empty 6-bed dorm room. Suddenly those 24 NZ$ for the night seemed like a jolly good deal.

    The ferry ride from Picton to the capital Wellington is labelled one of the most beautiful boat rides in the world in the tourist litterature. Yeah, my ass.

    As soon as the ferry leaves the pretty sounds with calm waters, a few dolphins fooling around below, and numerous seagulls above, the Hell Ride begins. The sea is rough, maybe not extraordinarily so, but I ain’t no sailor and to me the sea was rough as Hell. I spent most of the 3 hours the ride was going to take with my nose deep in the puke bag, with my intestines constantly asking me for just one more tango, and with a couple of retired people trying to be helpfull next to me:

    Go and git some frish air – you’ll fiil so much bitter, love. I just wanted them to shut up, leave me alone and speak their funny Kiwi accent (most ’e’s turned into ’i’s) to someone else.

    Needless to say, it wasn’t the happiest of times for me.

    From my foetal position on the carpeted floor in the back of the ferry I tried to get some sleep and a bit of rest from all the so-called friendly people trying to make sure that everything’s OK with me. The ultra short conversations went something like this:

    Elderly: Are you alright, darling?
    Me: No.
    Elderly: Are you sure you’re alright there, love?
    Me: NO, I’m NOT alright…

    5 minutes later…

    Elderly: Are you feeling better, love?
    Me: No, I’m NOT feeling better, OK?

    Between bowel shakes and filled puke bags I had a moment of clarity and started wondering if that idea of mine trying to get on board a sailing vessel as a deck hand from Auckland across the Pacific to South America is such a bright one…

    Feeling more like a zombie that a RTW cyclist I cruise into the NZ capital (of approx. 330.000 inhabitants) feeling crooked and sick. I check into a backpacker’s place in the centre of Wellington. It’s Saturday night but I quickly skip any plans involving alcohol and loud teenagers.

    What a ride!

    On this day..

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