I haven't really been up to much

Putting Auckland on my list was a bit of a mistake. I wrongly assumed that because I didn't actively dislike Auckland, I would probably like it if I went for longer. But it's too big and nerve wracking and I totally misjudged it. I have been up the sky tower (and will post a photo of the views), to the aquarium, bought a Ukulele, gone swimming, and plan to go to the zoo. I was going to visit the zoo today but I'm near paralyzed with fear and am too scared to leave my room. Oh that's a Surprise. My accomodation is on the 32 floor of a posh apartment building that's all polished marble lobby and 8th floor spa and swimming pool. I wasn't too bad when I arrived but I spent a considerable amout of time, about 6 hours working out how I could tell her how unhappy I am with the sate of my room and bathroom while I waited for her to get home. In the end I resolved to ask her for a hoover or dustpan and brush in the most tactful way possible with minimum fuss. It turns out that she doesn't own either. Apparently the cleaner does that and she brings them with her. Like hell. Why is my floor covered in debris and the bathroom FULL of hair?? What does the cleaner fo with the vacume, she's clearly not using it to suck things up! Anyway, it really isn't the host's fault, she then went about making me feel extra guilty as she picked up all the obvious pieces of  fluff, shopping tags, peach stems etc off my floor. I felt unbelieveabley bad since I wouln't have taken it up with her if I'd known. However there is still a considerable pile of hair I have swept into the corner of my super posh bathroom.  

How does anyone live without a hoover or dustpan and brush? Doesn't she feel helpless that, god forbid, something gets spilled or smashed she has no way of gathering it up? I think without cleaning things myself I would go exceedingly mad. Maybe because I have 2 cats and without a vaccume the house would be so fluffy we'd drown, but I don't think I could live without being able to clean and tidy myself. I have a look of horror on my face, you can't see it, but you can imagine it. 

The place I stayed before this was lovely but a but odd, beautiful house and neighbourhood, that's all I can say really. I didn't have access to a kitchen but the tea and coffee facilities were a nice surprise. Anyway, I love cicadas and wooden houses with picket fences and tree ferns in the suburbs, but I honestly don't think that would be enough to bring me back to Auckland a third time. For anyone who doesn't know, alrhough Welly is the capital, Auckland is the biggest city in NZ and is higher up in a slightly more subtropical, less windy area. It houses something like a third or a quarter of NZ's whole population and it's a city through and through. Wellington at the very bottom of the north island is smaller, and it's not only the capital of the country, but it's also considered the arts capital of NZ, put simply it's bloody lovely. The people are bloody lovely, the atmosphere is bloody lovely and I bloody love it. Auckland is full of high rises and I can't seem to get a grip on it, especially today I can't bring myself to go wondering in the crowds and big strees and chain stores and coffee shops, starbucks. Wellington is also the coffee capital of the world, it has a higer population density of coffee shops than New York city and they're mostly independenly owned, interesting, fair trade organic jobbies with interesting snacks and amazing ginger beer. 

What we're looking at, is the difference between Camden lock, or london southbank, Vs, Oxford circus. Honestly, I'm not in the mood, and even the lure of a zoo isn't doing the job. I'm skipping today, itMs a waste of money since I'm paying for this fiasco, but I'm going to make mistakes. At the end of the day, I've learnt some things, and especially if it go home having disliked Auckland and Oz, at least I went to Wellington which was the reason I came out here, I could have stayed longer, but I was okay with leaving too. If nothing else works out or comes good. It will have been worth it for that! However, what I hate to think is that I'll spend the next 11 days reading and then go home having not tried. I'm letting myself off on Auckland since I have done some things, and I've been before, it's okay to decide you don't like something as long as you've tried it, but if I go to Sydney and Melbourne and don't leave my room, I don't think I'll ever forgive myself. 

I had this vivid image in my head as I stood, soaked to my skin, water squenching between my toes with every step, in the middle of the forest at night in that silly bit of Cyclone, of a mother, most likely my own, saying "how do you know you don't like it if you don't try it?". I know that's what it comes down to, but I can't seem to find the balance, I don't want to live a life where I'm too scared to try things, but I also don't want to spend my life forcing myself to do things I don't want to do and labelling it 'fun' or a 'holiday'. I disagreed vehemently with anyone who called this trip a holiday. It's not because I'm really pernickety as you might think, it is bacause I'm not enjoying myself enough for it to be a holiday. The way I explained it to people, I made it sould like the reason I had such a problem with it was because calling it a 'holiday' belittled the amout of stress and trouble the whole thing took, made it sound like it was a breeze and it wasn't, made a mockery of the challenge this whole thing was or something. 'They're all travel' I'd tell people, 'they're trips not holidays', but it wasn't just because I wanted people to remember how hard it is or something, there were two real reasons above all others that I insisted the word 'holiday' wasn't used. One, I don't think I deserve a holiday, Holidays are treats for people who have worked hard and accomplished something, sure I work hard every day, but not in the sense that other people do, I work hard at not screaming or self harming, I work hard at leaving the house, at going to therapy, at not crying for days afterwards. That's not the same kind of contribution to society hard work that people deserve holidays for. My Mum deserves a Holiday, she cares for and puts up with a daughter with enough problems to wear out 10 Mums. I can look after myself of course physically, but when I look after myself, I'm teetering, holding my breath, waiting. I don't know how my psychological state would fare didn't live with Mum. 

Secondly, I didn't want people to call it a Holiday because a small, desperate part of me hopes there is more to travel than this. I hope that the sorts of holidays on adverts and in books and films are not a fictional thing, the holidays where you go somewhere with someone who's company you enjoy, you relax, unwind, maybe do something fun or exciting and most of all you enjoy. I'm really scared that this, going somewhere and being terrified and feeling guilty and struggling from one irrational challenge to the next is all there is. If this is a Holiday then what have I got to look forward to? 

I always imagine normal things I want. This trip isn't one of them, it has amazing parts yes, but I don't want my holiday to be terrifying and unpleasent and lonely. This to me is work, this is a struggle. This is like going in a mine to look for gold, I go in and it's not beautiful or wonderful, it's scary and dark and I'm alone. But there's treasure in there and if I can find it, I'll know where to look, and one day I can bypass all the horrid bits and go straight to the gold because I took the time to find it earlier. Short term pain for long term gain. Maybe one day I'll visit Wellington with someone who's company I enjoy, we'll relax, unwind, maybe do something exciting. Have fun. And it won't be a trip, it won't be scrabbbling about in the dark for gold, I'll already know where the gold is hidden. It'll be a holiday. And we won't visit Auckland.