February 11th 1983

posted in: Innocents Abroad | 1

Our feeling s about Boystown have moderated a little – it doesn’t seem quite the seedy dump we thought it was yesterday.  Still, it’s a difficult place for me to live in, accommodating myself to the rudeness + lack of consideration of others, but trying to exhibit politeness + consideration…not totally successfully.  Phoned Richard at work, + arranged to meet him for a drink tonight.  Then to town to blow $100 on Val’s new rucksack.  We paid a cursory visit to the YHA to check out their wares, but they were ridiculously expensive, so we returned to our sports camping shop, where we bought (eventually) a Macpac Wilderness Equipment rucksack, for about $127.  It is, however, a marvellous piece of equipment, with most of the features we’ve been looking for, plus a few extras.  It has an internal frame, so is less bulky, a separate sleeping bag compartment, + it rides nice ‘n high.  In addition, it has a hip belt, to take some of the weight, a sternum belt, to hold the shoulder straps in, lumber pads, to make it ride easier on the back, snap-release buckles, + we are able to buy extra zip pockets if we want them.  All in all, quite excellent.  Now we have to make sure the blasted thing doesn’t get pinched.

We lunched on French bread + pate, + in the afternoon went to see our second film in 24 hours (in response to 3 months in the cultural desert called the Bay of Islands) – ET.  Hugely disappointing tho’, especially since it’s supposed to be the film of the year, or decade, or something.  Contrived, sentimental rubbish, a sort of Space Age Lassie (as Val described it).  Not without its clever effects + good moments, of course, as all Spielberg’s movies have been, but more like a bag of toffees than a satisfying meal.

To Boystown for dinner, then to the Post Office to meet Rich – we hadn’t been able to think of anywhere more suitable to meet.  He was late, of course – so Val + I practised being stone lions on the steps outside.  He arrived on his motor-bike, along with Diane, one of his Rarotongan trio.  She’s been around in NZ for some time, + he thought we might like to see her… nothing more involved than that, apparently.  First off to a pub, of course, + then another one where we could get a seat.  Kiwi pubs really aren’t up to much, booze barns, piss palaces, what you will – but anywhere’s alright if you take your own atmosphere with you.  Which is what we did, more or less – not a riotous evening, but a pleasant one.  It makes a pleasant change for us to have an ordinary, social evening at the pub.

Already blowing some of the money we have earned on a new rucksack… but, as I say, it is pretty vital. (And if we knew then what it would have to experience… well.)

No photos, of course (see above) – the photo above is of a Thames pub, not the Auckland one we visited.

  1. Pamela J Blair

    You’ve left us with a little breadcrumb–what IS to follow? I’m glad you’re finally off, and I approve of your new backpack. I switched over to internal frame a little later than you.

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