Valderee Valderah

The concrete tent in Arthur’s Pass.

me and a glacier

Is it glamping if you make satay noodles with fresh veg?

In the last few weeks I’ve fended off giant mountain parrots, twice eaten braised beef cheek, crept through caves, boiled noodles in a field of sheep poop, and washed my hair once.  I’m pleased to report that my natural greasiness can quickly recover even the most frozen-desert-damaged hair.

There was also a day when I got a massage and read a (year-old) New Yorker magazine.  But the really luxurious experiences are gorgeous lonely beaches with rock outcroppings and the rare moments beside water when you’re not being eaten by sand flies.  Tonight my travel buddy and I are living it up like thousand-aires and sleeping in a hut rather than our tents.  Both provide refuge from asshole insects, but the hut features a large picture window that looks out on the lake and mountains beyond, and provides the light by which I write this (sparing my janky headlamp that’s on the fritz due to previously dampened, three-year-old batteries).

I’ve got one week left before I return to virus-hysteria world.  Don’t worry, I’ve got my own supply of toilet paper already.