Mount Karioi - Lookout!

When is a walk not a walk? Good question. Or at what point does excitement cease to be fun? An even better question. Read on and find out.

After a lazy day we decided that we needed to get out and about and make the most of our last full day in Raglan. But what should we do and where should we go to do it.

"How about a nice walk tomorrow ?"

"Sounds good."

"Cool, but where?"

Well there was Mount Karioi to climb and as it was our doorstep it'd be rude not too pay it a visit. All sorted then. Sandwiches were made, bags packed and the alarm was set.

With the temperatures threatening to hit 30 degees we got up at 6am and were in the car heading towards the trail head at 7am. Doesn't everyone get up early on holiday? Seemingly not - we arrived in the trail head car park to find surfer types asleep in their cars - I guess they wanted an early alarm call. Couldn't they have found somewhere more convenient to sleep? A car park 12km down a dirt track didn't seem like the obvious spot.

After changing our footwear and a quick glug of water we were off. It was only 4km to the top of the 759m hill so we were confident that we would knock it off in a couple of hours. Somewhere between Great Gable and Old Man of Coniston. Easy peasy. The climb out of the car park was uphill, but easy-going under foot and with the sun barely over the horizon it was relatively cool. It wouldn't last but at least we were getting some of the climb out of the way before it got too hot. And with spectacular views, like the one below, already starting to appear there was no rush.

But it wasn't to last.... Pretty soon we left the clearing and entered the bush. Thick, dense, bush. Our pace soon dropped as the path became more challenging. Thick roots, rocks, sudden drops and sharp rises slowed our progress to an almost crawl. Quite literally in some cases, as our arms became as useful as our legs. And all the while, at the back of our minds was the thought "We have to do this again on the way down".

The further we got up the slope, the more obscure the track became with the occasional orange triangle to mark the way. Still, at least we were making progress and being rewarded, when the bush suddenly cleared, with increasingly spectacular views.

Maybe this was going to be ok? Maybe the view at the top was going to be worth it. Maybe..... Ahhh no. As we turned a corner, well I say corner - it was more like scrambling over a rock and ducking under a tree branch - we were presented with a new challenge. One we had never come cross in years of hiking. Chains.

The route had become so vertiginous that chains had been installed to help walkers get up the slope. One of the things that I like about hiking is the fact that you use your legs, and occasionally your backside, to get up hills. Pulling yourself up chains in order to progress is not, at least in my book, hiking. Scrambling? Possibly. Climbing? Perhaps.

Still we had come this far so we pressed onwards. And upwards. There was no point in going back. Finally, after ninety minutes of slow progress we reached the first objective. Mount Karioi lookout. And what a lookout it was, as the Tasman Sea stretched out infront of us with the bush-clad hills all around. Somewhere in there was the path to the top. 

As we sat and munched our sandwiches we contemplated what lay ahead. It was another hour to the summit. Another hour of battling with tree roots, rocks, and slippery slopes. Another hour up. Another hour back to where we were, maybe longer. Then another two hours back down to the car. It was going to be slow going. Very slow going. Ninety minutes so far and we'd covered a grand total of 3km. Another hour to cover just 1km to the top. You've got to be kidding. 

After much debate and, it has to be said, soul searching we decided to make a tactful retreat in the full knowledge that, for the first time in our hiking history, we'd been beaten by a mountain. Sure we'd turned back on hikes before but that was only due to poor weather. We certainly didn't have that excuse today. Nope it was simply too much. Not in terms of fitness but the thought of slipping, tripping or snapping something breakable was too great. We turned around.

Pretty soon we were back at the chain section. Going down was even harder. If it looked bad on the way up, it looked worse from the top. It was a long way to fall. Slowly we slid down the rock face, clinging onto the chain for support and reassurance. 

Thankfully it all went without any incidents. And was actually much easier than we thought it would be. Had we been too hasty in our retreat? Had the mental challenge overcome us? It was looking like it was a possibility. After another hour of clambering, and making good use of our bums, and with only the ladder sections in front of us we'd soon be on the home stretch. Why couldn't ladders be installed on the whole walk? Tsscchhh! Our confidence was back and we pressed on down the hill. "We'll soon be down at this rate", I said.

I didn't know just how accurate that statement was going to be. Just as the path started to level out, I lost my footing and fell head first off the narrow path down the ravine. Thankfully the dense bush was there to stop my fall otherwise it might well have been auf wiedersehen. Sarah had quite a sight when she rushed around the corner, her pace quickened by a sudden cry of "SSHHIIITTT". Sticking out of dense undergrowth were two familiar legs. 

"I think I might be stuck!," a voice called from within the vegetation, "Oh, I'm slipping!" it added. 

Luckily, with the aid of creeping vines, gravity and Sarah's outstretched hand, I managed to turn around, face up the slope and gingerly pull myself onto the path. "That wasn't funny" I needlessly stated adding, "I thought I was a gonner."

No serious damage done. Just a twisted knee and a dented ego. One was fixable. The other maybe not! We slowly made our way back down to the car, each step more careful than the previous, until we finally hit flatter ground. The valley floor. At last. 

"Well that wasn't too bad!," I exclaimed.

The echo from the response is still, to this day, reverberating around the valley.

Anger Mismanagement

You've got to love local news stories. And by local I mean New Zealand. And by New Zealand I mean Auckland. It's fair to say that the rest of the country hate Auckland. And they may have a point. It's not too dissimilar to the disdain that northern England has for London. Bloody London with their funny accents, swanky restaurants, warmer weather and money. Yes money. Lots of it. 

Auckland is indeed the London of New Zealand, but with nicer people. It's all relative I suppose. I'm sure people in the south find Aucklanders rude, smug and arrogant. Well, one does like to try. I could start a debate about the huge percentage of the country's GDP comes in through Auckland ports, or about the size of tax receipts that are generated here. But I won't. For one, it's not my place - I'm only a new comer after all - and two I don't want to add fuel to the fire regarding Jaffas. 

But you have to love the press. Which is where I came in. One of the tragic and, it has to be said, slightly amusing, stories that have graced the pages of the press is the tale of a man who electrocuted himself during a camping site altercation. "What?" I hear you ask. Well it goes something like this.

During a camping trip to Northland this person became irritated by the constant noise from his neighbour's caravan. Apparently, and I wasn't there so I can't confirm this fact, but the noise was incessant and went on for several nights, well into the early hours of the morning. I can imagine the scene though. Been there. Got the t-shirt.

Anyway enough was enough. This had gone on far too long by half and it was time to take matters into his own hands. But what to do? He did the only rational thing. No, not knock on the door of the problematic caravan - that would involve a nasty middle-of-the-night confrontation. Instead he opted to cut the power cable running from the caravan to the power socket. Without first unplugging it. I can only begin to imagine the shock, both literally and metaphorically, he felt when his knife sliced through the sheathed power cable. If only he'd taken a few breaths and thought it through. If only he'd have been able to ignore the noise for just one more night. If only he'd waited and calmly confronted his neighbour in the morning. If only he'd bought a pair of ear plugs. If only. If only.

It got me to thinking. What would I have done? Would the red mist have descended on me too? Would I have pulled a knife on a live cable? I don't think so. I may have gone as far as pulling the plug from the power socket. But even that may have being going too far. Perhaps a shot of revenge in the morning with some loud, but appropriate music? Either way I think I would've been safe, as would 90% of the British population if confronted with a similar situation. Yes we would've gotten upset, uptight even, and maybe forced into action. Truly drastic action. The only course of action that is left open when the last line has been crossed. Oh yes the ultimate weapon..... A stiffly worded letter to the owner of the campsite. I know, I know. But a line had been crossed and the deserved all they got. Both barrels.

Certainly none of this tramping around in the dark nonsense armed with a knife. Gosh, you could trip and accidentally hurt someone. And what if someone saw you? What would they think? How embarrassing would it be for someone to see you in your pyjamas. I know. You'd not be able to show your face in public again. Oh the horror.

Yes say what you like about the British condition, it may be amusing. But it'll keep you alive!

New Kids on the Block

When you decide to up sticks and move to the other side of the world there are certain things that you accept are going to change. Some for the better (otherwise what's the point) and others not so much.

Hopefully, in the fullness of time and after a period of reflection, the balance is tipped in favour of a positive experience. Well you wouldn't hope so anyway or else you look like a right pair of eejits.

And for us? Well so far, so good. Sure there have been moments when the scales seemed positively jammed on the negative side, but mostly it's all good. Mostly.

One of the biggest weights, if you will allow me the indulgence of keeping to the scale analogy, pressing on the negative side is the loss of a network of family and friends. Accepting the we can't do anything about the family thing - not without taking seriously drastic measures, inventing time travel or discovering a worm hole for example, then the only other opportunity is to create another network of friends.  Sounds easy. But it's not. Especially if you are a picky as us! Really! Yes we are! I don't think our friends back in the UK appreciate just how lucky they are to have been accepted by us as friends. I'm only joking of course..... or course they know how lucky they are.

Anyway, back to my point. Actually no. First a bit of back story. 

It was the last day of our summer Christmas holiday and we decided that we would take it easy, a lazy day if you like. After all why not? The sun was shining, Auckland had gone on holiday to the Corromadel and we had the whole city to ourselves. A lazy day was just the ticket. Especially after nearly two weeks of galavanting about. Ahh yes, a lie in, coffee on the veranda, a leisurely breakfast and maybe a dip in the sea......

So it came as a bit of a surprise when we found ourselves doing a gym session at 7:30 in the morning. That wasn't part of the plan. Not even close. Where was the coffee? What happened to the relaxing breakfast? 

After the exertions of the gym we decided to head to the outdoor pool to cool off. Just to cool of mind you. Keeping physical exertion to a minimum was key to a lazy day after all. It was only then, during my fifth length of the pool, that I began to wonder if our lazy day would ever really start. Thankfully it was still only 11:00am so there was still time to salvage a quiet day from the wreckage of being far too active. Or so I thought.

Quite how we came to be driving to a running club at 5:30, with the sun still blazing away, is still a bit of a mystery. How did that happen? Still, as this was our first time at the club, we were sure that we would be eased in.....

"An hour and a half run? In this heat? Are you sure?," I asked hopefully.

"Yes, Tuesday night's are always a longer run. You need to come on Thursday for a shorter one. That's only an hour and a bit more sociable."

"Come with us", came another voice, "We're taking it easy tonight. It is bit warm after all".

It was music too my era and it seemed like a good way to ease out of the predicament. A slow run in the heat after all, was infinitely preferable to a fast one. Not wanting to sound rude I accepted the kind invitation and set off down the street. 

"So how far are we going?", I calmly asked, not wanting to sound too desperate.

"Only about 16k", came the answer, "About 5 minutes per k. That'll be ok with you won't it?"

"Oh yeah, no problem," I replied, displaying a strong British stiff upper lip.

"An hour and a half", I muttered to myself, "Ninety minutes. Ten miles. I don't believe it".

By the time I got to the first corner I realised my mistake. A lazy day should not consist of the gym, swimming and then a log run in the searing heat. 

It seemed to last forever. After each hill there was a short and flat respite before heading off up another hill. Surely we couldn't get much higher? Just how many hills are there in Auckland?

"Do you run in these temperatures at home?," asked one of my running partners.

"We don't get these temperatures at home!," I instantly replied between pants.  

But as each kilometre ticked by I also began to realise something else. I'd missed being in a running club. And I started to enjoy myself. Well as much as you can when you are bone weary and dehydrating faster than a leaky bucket. In the sun. 

By the time I got back to the clubhouse I was spent. And absolutely dehydrated. A sun-dried tomato of a human. But happy. And a bit sore. And a lot wiser. 

The next time we decide that a lazy day is in order I'll eat more food, rest more the day before and certainly drink more water.

And do you learn from your mistakes? Of course not! I just know we'll be back there next week, and the week after, raring to go. 

A Cultural Shock

The longer we live in New Zealand, the more and more we become immersed in the culture of this wonderful, beautiful and, it has to be said, bizarre country. To date we have spent Christmas Day on the beach, been camping in the bush, eaten 'kiwi dip' (Google it and be amazed at what has become a national culinary treasure), bought a 4WD vehicle, bought wet suits (not used yet) and even walked barefoot in public.... although that was admittedly by accident because my shoes got wet whilst walking on the beach so I had to walk back to the car without them. But it counts. Sort of.

The next major cultural milestone was the BBQ. We sort of knew that Kiwis were keen on their outdoor eating apparatus. But today we realised that we sort of knew but didn't. Not really.

To the British the idea of a BBQ is having to rush to the nearest petrol station to buy a disposable BBQ tin foil tray because the sun has decided to show itself for two consecutive hours and it would be a shame to not make the most of it. This is closely followed by a trip to the supermarket to find something suitable to cook. Which you can't because everyone else has been hit with the same infliction; the impulse to cook meat in the open air. Lots of meat. More meat than you could shake a meaty-stick at. So armed with a pack of frozen 'better-buy' sausages and a pack of white burger buns, and followed by an anxious drive home looking nervously up at the darkening clouds, the meat feast begins..... or at least will once the BBQ coals have taken the required thirty minutes to turn white. In which time the sun has had enough and decided to hide behind a grey bank of cloud. "No problem we can just grill the sausages". Aaahhh. The great British BBQ. Alfresco dining at its best. So for that reason, it's fair to say that we haven't really embraced the BBQ experience. It's just too short lived. We were even ashamed to export our £10 BBQ in a bucket for fear of being laughed straight back out of the country. As far as we know it's still languishing in the corner of the shed.

The BBQs I saw today in a specialist BBQ shop did not include a BBQ bucket. I feel they are missing out. There were, however, all other shapes, sizes, fuel types and it has to be said cost. I'd like to meet the person who thinks it is appropriate to spend £15,000 on an outside cooker. And then I'd like an invite to their next bash. 

It was an eye opener. And it doesn't stop there. Attachments. Apparently you simply must have the pizza stone attachment for your BBQ if you want to be seen outside this summer. Once you have that then you need a BBQ cover, stand, fish grill plate, outdoor heater, sun shade, tongs, rotisserie unit.... Oh my god. Impressive and worrying in equal measure.

Why were we in there? Well after having a lovely meal cooked for us on New Years's Eve on a BBQ we decided that we needed to get with the programme and get one. I know. I know. But still. I blame the weather. And our hosts at NYE. If the weather had been more inclement or if our hosts had gone with the British traditional disposable BBQ we wouldn't have splashed out. But it wasn't and they didn't so we did. If you catch my drift.

I'd just like to quickly add that we spend nowhere near £15,000 but did buy a cute, if BBQs can be described as such, portable gas BBQ. With attachments.

So you can imagine my disappointment when, after spending a happy half an hour setting up our new purchase, I set off to our local butchers only to find it closed until the 12th January. Damn it! Ah well, at least there are frozen sausages in the freezer.

Do They Know It's Christmas Time At All?

You can't say I haven't tried. I have. I really have. So I may not gone as far as buying a Christmas jumper - in the humidity that would be verging on suicidal - but I have done everything else; bought Christmas decorations, played Christmas songs on the iPod, watched Christmas episodes of TV programmes. Heck I'm even, as I type this, drinking out of a Christmas themed mug. 

But it still doesn't feel very Christmassy. Even the weather is trying to help, well a little bit anyway. Today's weather effort has a very British feel to it - it's overcast with a little bit of drizzle. OK so it's also 20 degrees. But apart from that I can almost imagine I'm back in the good old North East of England when I gaze out of the window. But still no twinge of the festive season.

The shops are doing their bit as well - all decked out in tinsel, baubles and, it has to be said, some rather sinister looking Santa Clauses. But rather than adding to the festive feeling, they are just adding to the feeling of disconnection from all things Christmassy. 

So what is it? Have I missed something? We're the songs not Christmassy enough? Have I skimped on the tinsel? Maybe I should go and get that novelty Christmas jumper. But I don't think it would work. It's the light. Or rather the absence of darkness. You see it's mid summer here, the equivalent of June in the UK, and whilst we many not be enjoying the really long days of a British summer, it is still light at 6am and right through to 8:30pm. Or thereabouts. Give or take. And it's just plain weird.

"Ooh, hark at him!", I hear all you northerners say, "All lovely and warm in the sun - he's only saying that to make us feel better. "

Well maybe I am. Just a little bit. But it is also true. In all the time I've been here, this is the most distance and disconnected I have felt from home. Oh what I wouldn't give for a bone-chilling wind, some frost and just a bit of ice. The only ice we get here comes in a glass of gin and tonic. But it's all good. All part of life's rich pageant. And you know what? It's only for a short while and pretty soon 'normality' will resume. In the meantime I'll wish you all a Merry Christmas, a fab New Year and console myself with a walk on the beach, maybe an ice cream in the park and raise a glass of cold beer to absent friends and family whilst I watch the sun set on Rangitoto Island. Hhmmm, OK maybe it's not all bad!

Auf Wiedersehen, Pet

Anyone who knows me will know that I'm not keen on animals. Well that's not entirely true. I like animals. Some of my best friends are animals. It's just that I think they're better off in the wild. In their natural habitat so to speak. Show me any animal that's much better off being kept in the confines of a  house and I'll happily reconsider my position. Except for dachshunds. They don't count. Clearly any animal that would get lost in short grass wouldn't last five minutes in the real world. It's a jungle out there.

No, as far as I'm concerned animals are better off in the wild and humans are better off for them being there.  I know where they are if I want to go and see them and they keep their distance. A happy state of being. You just imagine the carnage that would result if lions and tigers forgot their place and encroached into our space. Not that there are any such animals in Auckland. At least I don't think so. I'd have seen them surely?

So you may then, after all that, be surprised to learn that we have a pet. Or at least we did. For about eight hours. Maybe less. You see when I went out onto the upstairs deck for my morning cup of coffee at the weekend I was confronted by a piece of kiwi wildlife. Well a young sparrow or something. I'm not too sure. It was definitely a bird. With a beak and everything. For the sake of confusion, let's call him Trevor.

So I was confronted by Trevor who had, and it has to be the only explanation, had his maiden flight cut short by flying into one of the numerous pieces of glass that surround our viewing platform. Stunned, and a little embarrassed I imagine, Trevor didn't know what to do for the best. He tried, without success, to take off and gain enough lift to carry himself over the confinements of his new surroundings. It wasn't happening. 

"Hhmmm", I thought to myself, "I really must do something to help"

I'd like to think this was out of a sudden urge to protect and nurture wild life but I was thinking ahead, "If the bleeder expires here I'm going to have to deal with a dead body"

But no matter how hard I tried, Trevor seemed reluctant to run into my grasping hands. No matter, I thought, we're off out today so I'm sure that between now and our return this evening he'll figure it out. I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe I'd set my expectations for Trevor too high? Maybe I thought his feathered mates would come to his rescue and fashion a rope kind of piece of apparatus from twigs? So, confident that Trevor was smarter than your average bird, I left some crumbs of bread and a tray of water and set off into town. 

However, I was wrong as upon our return Trevor was still there. A little crisper from the midday sun and certainly a whole lot more tired. And he hadn't touched his breakfast! 

Clearly Trevor was an idiot. I was going to have to intervene. But no amount of coaxing was going to get him to run into my helping hands, instead preferring to cower in the corner. An idiot and a coward. Oh dear.

I needed time to think. I needed some stimulus. I needed wine. Whilst I sat and pondered the puzzling predicament some of Trevor's mates finally made an appearance and perched on the glass edge of the deck. It was good that his colleagues were finally showing an interest and a previously unseen level of concern. Unanimously, and in perfect harmony, they called out his name, "Trevor! Trevor! Trevor!" and shat on our recently cleaned glass banister. Trevor seemed unmoved. It was getting messy.

Suddenly I hit upon a sparkling idea. A bucket! Surely with a bucket I could pounce and capture stranded Trevor and carry him to safety. Well away from our upper deck anyway. Yes that's it! And in the safe knowledge that we had such an implement in the garage I knew I was onto a winning solution.....

Trevor was having none of it. As soon as I got within a metre of him he flapped off to the opposite corner of the deck. Maybe it was the fact that I was too slow with the bucket, maybe it was the fact that the bucket was bright green or maybe I was a little drunk. Or all three. Whatever it was, Trevor was winning the battle. "One last go", I thought to myself as I stared my tormentor in the beady eye. So with my back to the house I cornered him, deployed the bucket. Bullseye! Except it wasn't. The little bleeder ran through my legs and into the house!

So if catching a four feathered friend on a plain, four sided space was hard you can only begin to imagine how much more difficult my task had now become. With the stakes much higher, and the number of nooks and crannies increased exponentially there was no backing out. I must say that I'd underestimated Trevor's ingenuity. He found places to hide that I hadn't even considered; behind curtains, under the sofa, behind cupboards and amongst the hi-fi wiring. 

For the next half-an-hour a frantic game of cat and mouse ensued as I chased a bird around the living room (now there's a sentence I'd never thought I'd write!). Then, just as it was looking hopeless and I was coming to terms with having a permanent guest in the house, I saw my chance. With a swift swish of the bucket I had Trevor cornered near the top of the stairs. Unfortunately he was wise to it and with a deft flap of his wings flew down the stairs. Git.

But he was running out of options. I closed in on the landing, and give it one last shot..... Got him! Captured safe and sound in my bucket. With the swift application of the top of a pizza box to the bottom of the bucket I carried Trevor to the front door and the safety of the open world.

Yet still, I often sit here, stare out of the window look up at the sky and wonder where Trevor is. I'm sure he's got over his ordeal, picked up where he left off and is now the best flyer in his class. Good on him I say. Mind you I blame his parents. Fancy letting him fly on his own. At his age. 

And as for me? Well it has made me realise just what wonderful wildlife we have on our doorstep. Not only birds but plants, flowers and just the other day I saw a rather content looking cat.....

Not All Plain Sailing

Every now and again I find myself suddenly stopping what I'm doing, looking around and wondering "How on earth did I end up here?", or to be totally truthful "What the F***?".

What causes me to do that changes depending upon what mood I'm in or what my energy levels are like. It could be a sudden down pour, catching a glimpse of the blue sea, the lights on the SkyTower or...well just about anything really. And it is amazing to think that not even a year ago we'd never even been to New Zealand. Little did we know, when we set off from the UK in December 2013, that we'd be back living here. Let's try that again. Living. Here. Even typing that has given me cause to stop and just take it all in. It just goes to show you never know what's around the corner.

We never knew, well who would, that we would be marking the anniversary of our first arrival with the fourth month of our residency. Never saw that coming.

And what a four months it has been. But I guess, if you've been reading this outpost of the Internet on a regular basis, then you already knew that. But it hasn't all been plain sailing in the City of Sails. We've had our moments. Although this is a well worn path,and there are plenty of those who have, and who will, make the journey South, there is no manual. Very little in the way of published guidance and no one really tells you just how hard it can be. Yes we knew it was going to take a bit of effort but that was only part of it.

So, whilst I'm in a reflective and almost helpful mood, here are my top five* tough things and tips how to overcome them;

1/. Be prepared to have your world tipped upside down

No really. Be ready. New Zealand is perhaps one of the easiest countries to relocate to but it's all too easy to be lulled into a sense of false security. Yes they drive on the same side of the road, speak the same language, and enjoy a beer of two but it's the small things that bite you on the bum. And wear you down. Simple things like going to the supermarket, where things look familiar but are slightly different. Questions are relentless; "Just where do they put tomato paste?", "Is this like mackerel?", "Will this be the same as.......". Don't laugh. It's hard. And tiring. You start out asking the shop staff a question or two about condiments but before you know it you've magically acquired a personal shopper.

The only was to avoid being a nuisance, or worse getting banned from the establishment is to simply go with the flow. And whatever you do don't try and recreate every menu you had back home. Stop looking for pork pies. You won't find them. (Although strangely you can find Worcester Sauce!). But above all don't shop when your tired. You'll only end up falling out with yourself and going home with a basket of totally incompatible ingredients. 

And so what if you buy a tin of tomato sauce thinking it will make a great base for homemade pizzas - only to find that it is actually tomato sauce. You know ketchup. In a tin. WTF? It's still perfectly edible. Just about.

And don't forget - it's supposed to be different. There is no point in coming all this way and then trying to recreate your life from back home. It's the equivalent of going on holiday to Spain and then spending the entire time in English bars and seeking out the best place for fish and chips. As an aside you can buy fish and chips almost everywhere here so that's one less thing to worry about! Enjoy the differences. 

2/. Say goodbye to home comforts....for a while at least

Arriving into a new country with only a suitcase to your name seems like a fun adventure. And it is. For a while. Pretty soon you are tired of looking at the same old clothes ("ah it's Monday so it the grey trousers and white shirt combo today") miss having your home comforts and start to wonder if you'll ever see them again. Waving goodbye to your house contents and not seeing them again for twelve weeks is more difficult than you can imagine. What makes it worse is that you can easily buy replacements but the thought of spending money on something when you have a perfectly good one somewhere in the Pacific makes it hard. Why waste good money when, with a little patience, a container full of your stuff will arrive? 

Well you know what? If it's really that important go and buy it. You've already taken a huge step by moving to the other side of the world so cut yourself some slack. An additional table lamp, a set of knives and forks or a 'throw' won't break the bank and it may just help take the edge off the frustration. And you know what? Your stuff will arrive and when it does it's like Christmas has arrived early. Unless of course it arrives at Christmas in which case it's like all your Christmases arrived at once. Which they have. It's a really great feeling when they container doors open and there is all of you stuff. Just as you left it months ago. 

3/. A Mountain of Things

Make no mistake about it, the first few months are going to be hard work. If your lucky enough to already have a job then you are still going to have to find somewhere to live, open bank accounts, get mobile phones, apply for a tax code, buy a car, change your driving licence, buy insurance, sort out power providers, internet providers..... 

It would be very easy to arrive and rush into sorting all this stuff out. Yes finding somewhere to live is kind of a big deal but take your time. Making a decision in a panic won't help. So have a few weekends off. Relax and take in your surroundings and take some time to remember why you came and take stock of what you've achieved so far.

And once you've done that.... GET A F**KING MOVE ON! WHAT DO YOU THINK THIS IS? A BLOODY HOLIDAY? Oh and get a reliable broadband connection sorted. Yes really. Whether you are a tech nerd or not it will make a huge difference and help sort all the other stuff out. 

4/. It Still Rains

If you are coming to New Zealand to escape the British rain then you're in for a shock. It rains. A lot. Well it does in Auckland anyway. Of course we knew that it rained. Well it has to doesn't it? But we didn't know that it rained. I don't think that a day has gone by when it hasn't. And oh boy does it come down. It is torrential. No really. Imagine all the rain in the Lake District for one day in a ten minute deluge. It rains so hard that it makes your head bleed.

May advice to the unwary traveller is this. Be careful. Or don't. You'll either spend the day lugging round a waterproof and brolly and not need it or don't and get soaking wet. And breathable Goretex? Forget it. If you opt to wear a coat then you'll get wet from the inside no matter what. But it's all good. Mother nature has her own fix, whatever your decision. Within half an hour the sun will be baking the streets and, quite conveniently, drying you off. 

And besides, if you are feeling a little homesick, what is better than a good bit of rain to remind you of home? Exactly.

5/. Half A World Away

OK so I've saved the worst for last, and it's a really obvious one. A no-brainer. New Zealand is a long way from home, or more importantly a heck of a long way from family and friends. In your head you know it is but it's not until you arrive, and once the excitement or enormity of what you've done subsidies, that you really understand the distance. And time. The distance you can sort of rationalise - it is after all only a flight (or two) away - but being thirteen hours ahead really brings it home. Thirteen hours. Just think about that for a moment. When you're getting ready for work, friends and family back home are closing the hatches and getting ready for bed. 

And then there is the seasons. Whilst you're slapping on the sun cream folks back home are wrapping up. And come the winter it'll be summer. 

It really does give you a sense of disconnection and there is no easy way to deal with it. No little tricks to help. You've just got to get on and get used to it. Sure having the Internet helps; video calls have come a long way and really shrink the distance, momentarily at least. But it's not the same. 

My only advice is to keep sending home those pictures of clear blue skies, sparkling oceans and white sun-soaked sand and pretty soon everyone you knew or loved at home will disown you in a fit of jealousy. Problem solved.

So there you have it - five pitfalls and tips to avoid them. And if all else fails and you're still getting sudden cases of WTFs. Just stop what you're doing. Take a look around and remember why you're where you are. And if that doesn't work.. go to the pub! Case closed.

It'd be churlish of me not to follow my own advice, so here's one I prepared earlier....

* for the sake of alliteration it was going to be ten things but I've got better things to do than sit here all day typing** 

** Actually I haven't but you don't need to know that!