New Zealand may well be the most important trip I’ve ever taken.
Rewind back to late 2023. After spending most of the 2010s indulging in maximal wanderlust, I swaggered into 2020 planning to maintain business as usual only to then watch my world spectacularly implode. As I dealt with the remnants of that personal bloodbath, I found myself in a dystopian, insular nation that had closed off its borders, and – due to my own economic mismanagement – I was unable to leave. Stranded. Trapped. On several levels. China’s societally-crippling zero-Covid policy eventually (and abruptly) came to an end in 2022, but its traumas had intersected with fresh personal wounds and left me at a loss: unsure whether to pool my meagre resources into exiting a place that harboured so many injurious memories, or to avoid further upheaval and cautiously hope for a return of the freedom and flexibility that had defined my life pre-pandemic.
In the meantime, I went three-and-a-half years without leaving China for even a holiday – and when I found the funds to finally do so in July 2023, I ended up in neighbouring Taiwan! That was a terrific getaway, but by the end of the year it was coming up to a full four years entrenched inside the Sinosphere. It was a temporal journey that began with me at my absolute zenith (self-assured, proficient, motivated) and encompassed a new nadir (broken, misfiring, directionless). And there was a vicious irony in that, despite all my internal paroxysms and volatility, I’d ended up fixed in one place for the longest time since I was still legally a child. #firstworldproblems of course, but for someone that had become accustomed to physically escaping his demons and renewing himself on the road, confining myself to a single location (and one that had become fraught with pain) was an act of self-sabotage.
the first couple of days in New Zealand: straight onto a hike after surviving a hellish flight; getting into the sea for the first time in years at New Brighton Beach (I’m from near Brighton in the UK!); and my first sighting of the fabled sheep!
Taiwan was a welcome reminder that I could still backpack in the outside world, but it was also only a brief vacation and its cultural overlaps with China didn’t silence the numerous self-doubts that I was having at this point. Was I capable of hitting the road like before? Could I still pass for a backpacker at my grand old age? Would people disregard my veneer and see only the malaise of recent times? Was I still physically able to perform the superhuman feats of yesteryear? Could I even function in a society outside the Chinese-speaking world? What about function in societies that I instinctively understood (I hadn’t even been to the UK since early 2019)?
Enter New Zealand. A Kiwi pal had invited a group of us to spend New Year at her uncle’s farm, which was not-uncoincidentally also the setting for what looked like a hella fun festival. That plan disintegrated as multiple invitees dropped out, culminating in the hostess herself cancelling her visit, but a seed had now been planted in my mind. I’d always dreamed of going to New Zealand; a far-flung corner of the planet that held near-mystical allure. It was an allure that only grew as I pondered the situation: I had a good friend living in Christchurch and wanted to reconnect; there were hiking trails aplenty, which would give me an opportunity to ascertain just how much I’d physically diminished while enveloping myself in the natural beauty that I’d been so sorely lacking in Shanghai; and this was a ‘Western’ society, a distant cousin of my homeland, where people spoke my native tongue and where I’d stick out slightly less than elsewhere in the world. This was my opportunity to see if I could still perform as before. So I made the call to go to ole Aotearoa anyway, friends or no friends!
the essential Roberts Point Track in Franz Josef, where the glacier has sadly retreated considerably over the last century or so (note image three)
This all required careful planning – January is peak tourist season in the southern hemisphere, and New Zealand is an expensive country to traipse around in, particularly if you don’t drive (à la yours truly). ‘Plan’ is a word that tends to give me an allergic reaction, but in this instance I had to battle my better nature in order to keep costs down. Hostels had to be booked well in advance rather than mere minutes before, and I did the unthinkable and mapped out my entire itinerary beforehand via nationwide bus operator InterCity (a mostly helpful company with lovely drivers, but you’d be surprised at how infrequently certain routes run even during high season). Two buddies from Shanghai wound up coming along as well, but after a fun 11hr flight to Auckland (props to Air New Zealand who are a great carrier) our paths then diverged for a couple of weeks. They wished to explore North Island and later take in some wineries, whereas my objective was to get into South Island’s wondrous landscapes asap. And so it was that I found myself alone at Auckland airport early on 31 Dec 2023, ready to embark on my first real solo adventure for several years.
And what an adventure it was! It kicked off with the worst turbulence I’ve ever dealt with in my life on my flight to Christchurch – turbulence so bad that I ended up having to comfort the elderly British couple seated next to me who were petrified by having flown some 24hrs in total to be with their grandkids for NYE only to then die at the last hurdle! Luckily we all survived (but it took me a long ass while before I was fully comfortable with flying again), and from that point on it was non-stop bliss. With minimal recovery time, my Kiwi friend picked me up from the airport, whisked me onto a hiking trail outside the city, and then onto a rain-drenched New Year’s Eve in a local park. After some more fun in Christchurch, it was over to Nelson and Motueka to access the enchanting Abel Tasman National Park. It was also here where I began hitchhiking for the first time in several years and ended up encountering a kindly English expat on the road to Motueka who ended up throwing an impromptu veg-friendly backyard BBQ in my honour! Then I headed down to Franz Josef, Wanaka, and Aoraki National Park to devour more tracks and savour more breathtaking #earthporn, before ending in Queenstown where I circled back to my two friends from Shanghai. We took in a couple of boozy evenings, an incredible day at Milford Sound, and my first ever whitewater rafting experience, before concluding what had become a truly restorative voyage.
the dreamworlds of Aoraki National Park and Milford Sound – my most anticipated stops, and my eventual highlights
I can’t begin to articulate how much of a tonic New Zealand was for me. I went in with bruises and self-doubts, and while I came out with much the same, the self-doubts regarding my ability to travel had been fully laid to rest. Physically: I smashed eleven hiking trails in ten days, took in multiple day-long bus journeys, and proved thoroughly capable of moving at the lightning speeds of yore. Socially: I made ready connections amongst fellow travellers – none of whom seemed to be put off by the new scars that I was sporting – and had an important realisation that societies like New Zealand’s will always be easy to assimilate in for someone with my background. Emotionally: the unceasingly positive interactions, the dismissal of my imagined bodily decline, and the infinite majesty of South Island’s incomparable landscapes combined to render the trip something of an elixir. An endlessly enchanting fortnight brimming with fresh new escapades that healed some of the staid old hurt; solace in the knowledge that I could still thrive both ‘on the road’ and within mainstream Western society. It was a new lease of life, and if travel is to continue to play a significant role in my world as I age further, it’s probably the renowned Kiwi hospitality that I have to thank for it. And the beauty. God damn, the beauty.
Click here for an extended NZ gallery (and apologies for the fact that the early images are in portrait rather than landscape mode – I must’ve been brainfarting from either excitement or hangovers during those first few days).
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Weird to think that the great traveller had his doubts about still being able to travel but I’m glad it worked out. I don’t know if I could hit the road with a rucksack like I did in 2018 – the body definitely starts to need more creature comforts – but I just booked a trip to Mexico City for Dia de los Muertos. First new-to-me country in over 8 years (ironically, I think the last one was NZ!) I also had a great time there. It’s weird to find such cultural familiarity so far from the UK, but that’s colonialism for ya.
Sorry it’s taken so long to reply to this. Funnily enough, I’ve just returned to Shanghai after a month in Central America + Mexico!! Via a 24hr layover in Canada no less. Sadly, it was in Vancouver otherwise I’d have forced you to come entertain me. Lots of blog content to come as a result.
I think the self-doubts referenced in this NZ post are probably a reflection of just how debilitating those Covid years were. The fact that I was questioning my capacity to do the one thing that I’ve always been indisputably badass at speaks volumes about the confidence at that time tbh.
Having said that, the absolute insanity of the last month has proved that I can still perform ridiculous feats at the same standards as my 2010s heyday. But I also understand what you mean about needing more creature comforts. I don’t think I necessarily need the same, but I think this’ll be the last time I travel at quite such breakneck speeds on shoestring budgets. Will talk about that more in future posts, if I remember!
And yes NZ is such a blessing. It’s like us, but with nicer people and more beautiful scenery. How can I not love it!