I would hate to be so predictable as to stay in this same town here on the South Island for much longer, but sadly this seems to be the case, over the Summer, at least. That means through December and into about, say, March or April, and despite being reminded of this reversal of seasons it is still more than a bit weird to think that on Chrismas day this year I will probably be having a barbecue in the sunshine wearing shorts and optional T-shirt (irrespective of the public outcry this could cause), toasting steaks and fresh lamb shanks in the company of people of a dozen nations.
These nations are thinning out a little now mind you, although I hope our dear departed sisters will return for the Xmas Barbie. Our resident Scot is about to bugger off to...somewhere in town (or `tooon` as she would have it) and we have thus far also mislaid one Texan (mention G.W. Bush and you'll really wish you hadn't, poor lass has had to put up with the complaints and whinges of everyone she meets: as if she hadn't done all that already herself years ago!) and one of our Germans, although in fairness we have traded her for another.
Most of us who know us, you see, are long-term residents. Along with the above mentioned deserters there are myself, an Englishman who answers to `Pete` if accompanied by a long whistle and a biscuit, and his Taiwanese girlfriend by the name of Sofia, or rather by the anglicised and completely arbitrary name of Sofia, anyway. You know how Chinese and Taiwanese people in the UK (and often Indian, Japanese, Korean etc.) have English names? And you probably thought they were equivalents or translations: not one bit. They are randomly assigned by English teachers in class when they are learning the language of money [That's our language, folks]. Sofia was graduating from her English classes at the time the movie Titanic was released and came within a whisker of being called `Rose` for the rest of her Anglophonic life.
And so we have the daily life and almost a routine to things, although I'm pretty sure I still don't quite qualify. It looks like, now, after a bit of on-again/off-again with various other staff members that I will be working on reception here at this fine hostel, and of course doing the duty manager thing at ze bar should, between the two, give me at least 5 and with a bit of luck a full 7 days of work each week, which would be pretty spectacular. Odd hours of course, but I really wouldn't have it any other way. I think I might be naturally inclined to work until 4am and then again later in the morning and just have a nice long siesta and one or two meals a day. Being busy could cure so many `ills` if I get lucky with the hours 
And of course there are the barbecues, which are never less than delicious and sometimes are spectacular. The first one I did I spent $50 - fifty freakin' dollars - on cheese, althoguh to be fair this did make up the majority of the food as the goal in mind was halloumi kebabs for all, which was acheived and appreciated, thank the gods.
People still seem to like my cooking (McTims: "Less than 1 dead already!") and I have been battered for my recipes for both apple strudel and sweet and sour chicken/beef/whatever. Having learned how to make sweet and sour sauce from scratch is wicked cool by the way - you'll cut your Chinese takeaway bill in half if you do 
Kung Pau and maybe homemade black bean and oyster sauces to follow. Watch this space, as they say.
And beef wellington is a breeze to make too, against all previous conceptions. Just make sure you have an oven that works properly, and it would be nice if I didn't have to make that qualifier, but hey. Ours is volatile and highly vindictive, you see, and I believe it has a problem with humans and doesn't want to see us fed. You read those books/see those films about artificial intelligence rising up against us and the war with the machines beginning with just one petulant device going sentient and malevolent all at once? This cooker would be a good one to keep an eye on, is all I'm saying.
It has just two settings; Off and Cremate; and aside from using all sorts of tricks to make things work out alright like pre-cooking everything that goes into it to just the right degree so that the outermost bits don't get incinerated, it is also becoming a little wearisome running around after new arrivals if we see the beast in use to find out who's dinner is fast becoming elemental.
Still, it'd be bloody boring if everything was easy, eh? And at least we have a cooker, unlike most hostels (even if we do have to negotiate a peace treaty with it every time we fancy a baked potato).
One more thing I can't help but notice about this country is that, for all intents and purposes, there are no spiders in New Zealand. Oh, I'm sure there are some little eight-legged arachnids out there in the bush somewhere and perhaps even in the odd plant pot and domestic corner and cupboard, but I'll be buggered if I could find you one if you asked. I have seen, quite literally, perhaps two spiders in the 3 and a half months I have spent in the country, a ratio of `Fuck All : 1` which I can very happily live with. In India and Indochina there were more lizards than spiders and would welcome the trade very happily as I'm rather fond of lizards irrespective of their insectivorous lifestyles, but when they do have spiders over there, they tend to have them in a big way.
Here there is practically no need for them and, miracle of miracles, while there are indeed sandflies here there are practically no mosquitos, even right next to ponds and lakes. How awesome is that?!
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And there are many other little things here in Nelson that make it worth staying for a few months, especially over a glorious Summer; like the little semi-pedestrianised bricked sections on almost all the streets and abundance of pelican crossings everywhere - cars in the city centre positively invite perambulating humans to cross their path and, on the whole, slow down well in advance of anyone approaching any of the dozens of crossings on every street in town.
Another lovely little feature on the streets are angled parking spaces on the main thoroughfare, Trafalgar street, all the way through this little city. That people can park next to shops and right on the main street is a rare and extremely homely feature, and that the four main squares on either side of Trafalgar as it bisects the city centre are half given over to flat carparks means that literally everything is within easy reach of everyone. No multistorey abominations and plenty of free space, no-one uses their horn much, and all traffic recognises pedestian right of way at almost all times including when crossing the entrance to side-roads. Nice, very nice indeed.
It has taken me so strangely and in many ways completely that I have started to dream in Kiwi, as it were, and whatever weirdness goes on inside my slumbering brain there is a half-and-half chance of it being played with thick New Zealand accents.
If only I had a proper career-type job this place could well become my home. Actually, no it couldn't, despite the sheer ease of everything. There is just no way I could settle down here without seeing South America and Canada and the United States; and much of Europe, and China, Japan and of course Russia; and then there's Africa to think about and, well, I hear Dick Branson has a new little sideline opening in a few years and wouldn't that be something to do on a rainy bank holiday 
