-Chapter 33- Exploring Beautiful Places on the South Island with the 'Hearse'

During the first few days with Floris' car, one of us always played the role of the instructor while the other drove alone behind, because none of us wanted to drive alone in a foreign country for the first time. When it was my turn, I tried to turn on the radio. The Bon Jovi fans who were the previous owners of the hearse had forgotten their CD, so from that point on, it always played their album when Flori turned on the radio.

At first, we had a bit of difficulty driving in a convoy through New Zealand. In Amberley, I saw my life flash before my eyes as I tried not to lose sight of the hearse at an intersection. A car that was towing another vehicle had to brake sharply as I crossed the intersection. Its turn signals were so weak that I thought it was going to turn. I had to accelerate as much as possible with our car, and the other car swerved with screeching tires. But luckily, everything turned out fine.

Flori quickly got used to driving on the left side of the road, and soon he was able to follow us. We headed north, but took a detour through the mountains so that we wouldn't have to drive back the same way.

First, we stopped in Hanmer Springs, where we spent two nights at one of the best campsites ever. By accident, we gave Flori a thick, completely straight Korean-style pony haircut when we tried to cut his hair unprofessionally. In addition, we behaved extremely clumsily. We broke the washing machine twice, walked between the car and the kitchen about thirty times a day, and couldn't find the way to a waterfall. In any case, we provided entertainment for the retirees in the motorhome next to us. "Never ending," the elderly woman said with a laugh, as I passed by her for the 5th time with the same huge stack of laundry.

On the way through the mountains, we also encountered sandflies. (Flori says they should be eradicated). They are a true plague. Despite using a lot of mosquito spray and wearing long clothes, we were bitten so badly that it looked like we had a rash on our ankles. We hiked to a hidden gorge in the forest where the clumsy Germans strayed from the path and were shouted at by a ranger on the other side of the river. The eerie thing was that we couldn't see him. Only his deep voice from the forest, repeatedly shouting "GO BACK TO THE BRIDGE."

One evening, Flori made a fire and we swung on a rope into the river on a warm day.

At Lake Rotoiti, a beautiful serene lake in the mountains, I experienced the most embarrassing situation ever. I mistook a backpacker for the park ranger and tried to sell her tickets, until I realized that she was just asking us about the park fee. As she walked away annoyed, I fled into Flori's car, who couldn't stop laughing. 'This is the end,' I said.

-> To be continued