More Traumatic experiences on holiday

 Hi there

I've just come back from a holiday.  I went to Mount Maunganui and Lake Taupo.

I caught Duckage (Swimmers' Itch) yet again.  This time, swimming in Lake Taupo.  Only a few big  blotches on my torso compared to my February swimming in Lake Wanaka.   As I was swimming this time, seven swans all in line, followed by a little ugly duckling, all paddled along right in front of me; I figured there was no hope for me after meeting them.  Swanage, anyone?

When I reached Mt Maunganui area I decided to climb to the very tippy-top of Mount Maunganui.  A Bucket List cross-off for me.  My goodness, it was tough.  I think the mountain is about 2300 metres high, straight up.  Young people bounded past me like mountain goats, older people not so much. It took me two days to recover from the hike that only lasted a couple of hours.  Felt like it lasted for months.

me, top of The Mount.

above:  just to prove I've reached the top of Mt Maunganui

On my way back to Wellington from The Mount, I stopped off again for a few nights in Taupo. 

I went to the newly gentrified Spa Park.  I sat on an under-water rock and let the warm thermal water from the hot spring run over me.  It was like being in a spa pool.  I hated it.  So, I went for a swim in the cold river instead.   Ahhh, much better..  

In the Taupo rental holiday home there was a very narrow driveway to the side of a very narrow doorless garage.  I scraped my car against the side frame of the garage.

Oops.  I went backward to try to get out of the situation - cruuuuuunnncchh...

I drove forward - cruuuunnnnccchh...

There were big gouges to the side of my car!

I rang my insurance company.  I sat on the front steps of the holiday rental and sobbed my eyes out.  I worried about those gouges all night.

The next morning I decided to go for a swim at the thermally-heated swimming pool.  All I took with me was a debit card, my holiday rental key, a towel, and my bathing suit. 

However ....

when I returned to my holiday rental, I put the key in the door, and it didn't work!  What?  Huh?  Oh no, I'd brought out with me the wrong key.  The proper key must be inside on the kitchen bench, along with my phone and four other keys that I never did find out what they were all supposed to open.

I sat on the front steps, and burst into tears.  My second bawling session in two days.

A lady from next door looked over the fence.  She called out "Have you locked yourself out, dear?  But don't worry, I have a key".  She waved it.

I forgave her for calling me "Dear".  I could have kissed her.  I did hug her. She said people had locked themselves out before, hence she had the keys to all three units.

On my way back to Wellington the next day I vowed never to travel again (Oh, yeah, really?" three cynical friends said to me next day).  As usual on the journey home, I tried not to drive over Transmission Gulley with its huge hills and also, as usual, I went around all the wrong turnings and ended going up Transmission Gulley after all.

Those 'gouges' on the side of my car?  I remembered I had some handy-dandy rubbing compound for cars.   The gouges disappeared as if by magic.  All that was left was a teeny spot about a quarter of an inch in diameter which I can daub over.  I tried ringing my insurance company to tell them but each time I rang, a disembodied voice told me there was at least a two hour wait, so I gave up.  Let them ring me....