NZ part 15 - Queenstown

Last day of fun, December 27. We had a 2:40 hr drive to church and then to find the building, so we packed up quick (I think we left something behind at almost every place we stayed. Argh. It's just stuff, right?) and drove back through the farmland (deer and llama farms, too!) back along Lake Wakatipu to Frankton just outside of Queenstown.
We didn't really know where the church was, so we stopped at a shopping center to get help. We borrowed a phone book from a shoe saleslady and a cell phone from a friendly passerby and got an address for the funeral parlor where the branch meets on Sundays. They paused the service for us while we changed in the parking lot. There were maybe a dozen people, including us. But it was a lovely Sabbath morning, and the sweet peaceful Spirit felt like home. They only had sacrament meeting since there weren't many people there, so we chatted with members about Samoa, our travels, and Lord of the Rings since the crew spent heaps of time in Queenstown.

We found our "Motor Park" which I expected to be a dump and was pleasantly surprised again. (By this time I should've stopped being surprised by all the clean and functioning facilities.) I guess you just can't go wrong in NZ. The view from our room.

We followed a recommendation to check out Glenorchy. Glad we did.






As the birthplace of bungy jumping, Queenstown has a dare-devil reputation, and people were pumping adrenaline all over the place.



Since we were leaving the next morning, we had to indulge in the excitement with the Gondola ride. It was one of the highlights of the whole trip.


And man, whadda view!



At the top we watched bungy jumpers bounce from death's grip and paragliders casually sailing by, as if they were completely sane.


The Remarkables in the background. (Don't my sunglasses look like Willy Wonka goggles in the TV room?)


It sealed the deal. I'm in love with New Zealand.

Side note: New Zealand men ain't scared to wear short shorts. I mean shorts above the knee. You never see that in American Samoa, everyone here wears long basketball shorts. Unless they're Kiwi, or on their way to rugby practice. I'm not sure why, but it cracked me up to see burly construction men out on the road showin' some thigh. Burly thigh. Like it was 1985. Oh these people! They're lovely.