On to pastures new

Yesterday I arrived in Queenstown in the middle of New Zealand’s south island. The journey was LONG (not helped by being kicked out of Auckland domestic terminal at 1am when trying to sleep for the night) but so worth it. The air is clear, the scenery spectacular (to say the least) and wonderful to see my old pals, Jim and Vicky, who have a stunning home they built themselves at the base of Coronet Peak.

Flying into Queenstown — some of the most stunning scenery in the world

Jim, Vicky, Charli, Toby, Moose and I are currently chilling out after a three-hour hike this morning followed by a carpet picnic. It’s heaven to be here. I just wish I didn’t have an entire book on navigation to read before I get to the Bay of Islands next weekend for my coastal skippers course.

Family Pollard (minus Moose dog)

A small rest en-route

Before I got on that LONG flight I had one last day in Buenos Aires which was a joy. I stayed in the old part of the city, San Telmo, strolling through the cobbled streets having "last" empanadas and "last" ice-creams (dulce de leche, of course).

Louisa and her husband Fede kindly invited me over for dinner on my last night and it was great to catch up, eat a last steak and drink a few last drops of Malbec (I think I am obsessed with Malbec). But I was very un-South American and left at 11pm so I could get a leg-stretch in the following morning before my flight. Even the kids over here stay up later than me.

But the early night was worth it because the 7am run — my first since my accident last June — was fantastic. My knee has improved massively in recent weeks after I finally saw another orthopedic consultant for a second opinion, had an MRI scan and therapy with a specialist knee physio. Turns out my kneecap is now wonky due to the heavy scaring and two underdeveloped muscles in my leg thanks to the bright spark at Kingston Hospital who said “of course you don’t need physio”. Anyway, I’m back on track now and the run was particularly rewarding because of the wolf-whistles I had en-route.

Early morning in Buenos Aires

I will miss Argentina — crazy drivers who put their foot flat to the boards if you even think about stepping onto a pedestrian crossing; dulce de leche in every shape and form; malbec; huge steaks caked with salt and cooked over coals; arrestingly handsome men who stare unabashedly as you walk past; the friendliness of people with whom I couldn’t even hold a conversation; the big, blue sky and huge open spaces — it’s a beautiful country and I cannot wait to come back.

As I sat I Buenos Aires airport, I realised the past two weeks have done me the world of good. After being forced to deal alone with various dilemmas in a country where I cannot converse I have already become more self-sufficient than I thought possible. I think my most proud achievement so far has been programming a hotel safe.

A few people I've met along the way have remarked that I’m brave to be doing this on my own, but to borrow a quote from my current book, Shadow of the Wind by Carloz Ruiz Zafon, “Destiny does not do home visits, you have to go for it yourself”. Too true. But if one more person says “Eat, Pray, Love” to me I shall scream.

Enjoying life in NZ: with little Charli on our walk this morning