The waitresses fussed over us - they were like guardian breakfast angels. I sat down and realised there wasn't a fork on the table, and *poof* a waitress (not a poof) materialised out of thin air with a fork. I literally thought *coff* and a waitress materialised with a pot of coffee. I probably should have been more creative and thought things like *Wiggles on crack* or *Bindi Irwin in a blender*.
After our luxurious breakfast we left at a luxurious hour.
The road we took out of Wellington was a bit daunting, however thankfully it was windy but not windy. I mean the road wound its way up the range. The Minister for Road Fans must have been doing his or her job that day. The road after the mountain was typical New Zealand, lots of ovines and bovines, green and not too many fauvines (NZ isn't renowend for its art).
We stopped in at Schoc in Greytown for an incredible chocolate experience. I mean, look at those things mmmmmmmmmmm... Tequila and lime chocolate mmmmmmmm...
For lunch we stopped in at a little rest stop near Hamua, where we were kept entertained by a couple of naughty roosters. I didn't feed them anything but I did call them 'dickheads' a lot. After saying 'goodbye dickheads' to our feathered friends we drove onto the Tui brewery where I bought some merchandise.We drove onto Dannevirke (which literally means Danes work). The town was established by the Danes because the Poms were too soft and squooshy (although they were smart because the Danes had to sort out the Maoris first). Then from Dannevirke we drove through Norsewood which literally means 'the trees are actually Norses'. Like Dannevirke the town was established by over pampered Poms and populated by Norsemen and Norsewomen. The town was filled with trolls.
We drove through Hastings, actually we made haste through there because I hate getting arrows in my eye. Get it? No? Well your knowledge of history is pretty useless then.
Finally we made it to Napier, the most Art Deco town in the world. Well probably anyway. The town was flattened on 3 February 1931 by an immense earthquake. Apparently at one point, when most of the town was on fire, the fire brigade drove to the beach to pump water in, only to find that the beach was 2 metres higher than they expected and the ocean was a good 100 metres further away than it was that morning. Walking on the beach gave me that weird 'insignificant' feeling again and I felt sick for the firemen that night. It must have been horrifying.
The upshot of all this death and destruction is the fact that the town was mostly rebuilt in the style of the day - art deco. This has to be one of my favourite arty things ever. The lines are strong and clean. Mmmmmm sexy.
We took a brief wander around the town in the darkening light and toddled off to our campsite.Here we witnessed some unusual behaviour. Stacey and I were cooking dinner in the communal kitchen, there were a number of tables around and quite a bit of room. While I was cooking two people (clearly a couple because they were both so ugly they couldn't find anyone else) sat down opposite Stacey at our table. Fat Dickhead Number 1 (the husband) started cooking and cleaning stuff and Fat Dickhead Number 2 decided that sitting directly opposite Stacey and staring at her was the appropriate thing to do. I finished cooking, we ate. Fat Dickhead Number 2 introduced herself to us, we made small talk and then she went back to staring at us like a Fat Dickhead. WTF? Do we have two friggin heads or something? Thankfully we could eat quickly (pizza) and leave because I was very close to punching one of them in the knee...
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