Day With The Canadians

Bad news everybody: I think God wants me to marry a Canadian. Worse news: I think I do too.

It all starts this morning, when, after having breakfast with the Canadian girls from last night, we say goodbye and go our separate ways. They’re headed South, we’re headed West. I have their phone number and hope to see them again; they’re fun girls.

So, Joe and I go check out a surf spot but says he doesn’t want to go, as the waves are pretty weak. Next, we check out Baldwin St, otherwise known at the steepest residential hill in the world. It is, and at the top I talk with a Scottish man about it. Or at least I think I’m talking with him. The Scottish are so hard to understand that I never quite know if their talking or just making noise.

In a plot all too remeniscent of “White Christmas,” Joe and I decide last minute to head South to check out the Catlin islands instead of just heading due West for Queenstown. 

We’re driving for about an hour, seeing lots of pretty hills and sheep, until all of the sudden we see two hitchhikers off in the distance. I say to Joe, “Wouldn’t that be funny if it was the Canadians?”

Then as they come into view he says “Holy shit it is.”

We stop, and tell the girls that we don’t have much space, but if they want to hitch with us they’re more than welcome.

So, we spend the day with the Canadian girls, checking out some cool beaches (no good waves for Joe), a sweet waterfall, and then a Petrified Tree forest.

Lindsey steals my heart away when she tells me she flashed a big group of people while peeing in public. I think I’m in love, bros.

Next, we decide on a whim to make the trek further South to Slope Point, the Southernmost point on the South Island. It’s actually really pretty, green hills and sheep as far as the eye can see. After Joe and I make a few sheep sodomy jokes we head West to Invercargill, the city of dreams.

Once in Invercargill, fate strikes again, as we run into a hitching group we had said hi to just leaving Dunedin. They say they are French but they looked like gypsies to me. Either way they were friendly for the most part, although I didn’t appreciate the gentleman degrading the quality of my boxed wine.

We sit and have dinner with them in the middle of some city park. The girls, who are awesomely scrappy, make some sort of macaroni and cheese and beans concoction, and Joe and I stick to our sandwiches. We all share a bit of candy and give the ol wine bag a slap and call it a night.

The girls are stay in Invercargill, hoping to find their way to Milford Sound in the next few days. We leave them in a McDonald’s, which was advertised as being open all day. I believe they are going to test that and see if they can sleep in the slide in the indoor playground. Like I said, I think I’m in love with these girls.

I was sad to let the loves of my life leave on the eve of Valentine’s Day, but, alas, these girls would not be impressed with flowers and chocolates. They seem much more into knives and beans.

They say they eventually would like to make it to Queenstown, which is where we will be for a while. If Fate so desires, we may cross paths again, sharing good humor and exotic ways to eat cheap beans...

Tonight we are sleeping on the side of the road, Joe’s feet are stinking the hell out the car, it’s raining outside, I haven’t brushed my teeth in lord knows how long, and Joe is keeping me awake with his snoring. I’m beginning to fall in love with this country.