Speed Through Pt 5: Christchurch Northwards

As it seems to go on the south island, we found ourselves back at trusty Cousin J’s house with a vehicle that we weren’t sure we wanted to keep any more. We were concerned that there could be further issues with Sparkleypoo and wanted to ditch her while she was still functioning. The idea was that as we would only need a vehicle for a couple of weeks once we go back to the north island, we might as well rent one of those backpacker vans with the fold-out bed in the back. It would be a nice, worry free sort of situation. So in the grand tradition of hard-working backpackers cars, she was tarted up on a home-made flyer and posted as a free agent on all the Christchurch hostel notice boards. We also investigated the possibility of selling her via Turners Car Auctions, but due to her low value and their cut of the sale price, we decided that such a measure would be taken as a last resort.

After several trouble free days with her (and limited purchaser interest, and re-consideration of the high price of renting a van) we reneged on our original thought. If someone in Christchurch wanted to buy her at full asking price, than we would consider the offer; but for all intents and purposes, Sparkleypoo was off the market.

The rest of our time at Cousin J’s was spent quietly. We walked around a bit, we went clubbing one night with Cousin A, and then another night she took us up to “make-out point”, which has the best possible night time view of the city’s lights. Yes, the view was spectacular. No, we did not make out.

Investigating the work situation in Wellington was the next step. The plan was that we would head up to Wellington, find work such as tending a café, and rent a room in the city for a month. To do this, we needed our IRD tax numbers, as all workers require tax numbers so that the government may remove their pound of flesh. When we attempted to call the Inland Revenue Department to get the IRD numbers which we had applied for at the beginning of November, we were informed that our names were not on file and that we had no numbers. Really, I shouldn’t have been surprised. We were warned by one of the workers at the first hostel we stayed at that the IRD office is notorious for misplacing application forms. We decided that it would be better to re-apply in person and hoofed it down to the Christchurch Tax office to bother them face-to-face. It would take a couple of weeks for our numbers to be processed, but that should still be in time for us to find work in Wellington.

After all this kerfuffle, we felt it was time to leave the south island behind and seek our fortunes northwards. We hit the road again, making very few stops (save the Kaikoura Winery, as we had to pick up another bottle of Kaikoura Crème – note: this is a had to situation, not a wanted to) and trotting up to the Picton ferry terminal nice and early. The ferry crossing was as uneventful as our drive; no waves, no seasickness, no puking Glen.