TRAGEDY! We awoke to discover that my hairdryer appears to have kicked it in NZ. Either it has died forever, or it refuses to work in the campervan. Either way, it means my hair will be WILD for the next few weeks. Medusa, you’ve got competition, baby!

From our adorable campsite, we drove to Nelson. Unfortunately, I had not fallen asleep until 5am, so life was seeming increasingly less adorable with every passing hour. However, it was T’s turn to drink and my turn to drive, so I did my duty, suffering in near silence.

We got to Nelson, where T decided to begin his boozing at the Founders Brewery, which is inside some kind of funny heritage park. I was a little weirded out until I saw both a BLAT and a veggie burger on the menu, and then my stomach made the decision that the place was okay. T got the redhead beer, fittingly enough, and I drank water, being the responsible teetotaler that I am.

After lunch, we decided to check out the town. I’m sorry to report that there ain’t much to report. Nelson reminded me a lot of Launceston, in Tasmania, and that’s not a great endorsement. It seemed nice enough, and we spent a few hours in an internet café before hitting the road for the wineries.

Our first winery, Waimea Estates, was closing ten minutes after we arrived. Unfortunately for T, it meant he had to down his wine very quickly. After 10 minutes of awkward silence with the woman serving us, we left—paying nothing because he only tried three beers. Great success! The next one, Seifried, was Austrian and the oldest winery in the area. The woman there was much more talkative, and helped T through about 8 tastings. He liked three, and we ended up buying a Gewurtztraminer, which is pretty popular in the area, but we had never heard of, being so ignorant about wine that we aren’t even able to sniff it with accurate pomposity. We hadn’t liked too many of the others we tried, this one was super delish.

Finally, my delightful personality began to wane, giving over to my less-than-charming side, which is most aptly described as Satanica. T and I started fighting about his navigation skills, which he still maintains were superb and I think were marginal. We tried two different caravan parks before we finally found one we liked, a million miles from anywhere. It was called Old Macdonald’s Farm, I kid you not, and as soon as we got there, I slept for an hour in the sun while T cooked us a stirfry.

When I awoke, we ate and then I started and finished Water for Elephants, to T’s dismay. I liked it even though it almost made me cry repeatedly, though that could well have been due to my extreme exhaustion or my propensity to cry at anything, including radio advertisements.