I rode my first doubledecker bus last night, during which we shared the upper back seat with Sr. Bros-a-lot (maybe it was Lord Brostein) and met a very talkative man from Wellington who did (I don't know what) and a five-lingual italian man who's covered in tattoos and stories about Tonga drugs and getting tattooed.
I'm starting to feeling acclimated to some kiwi peculiarities. I know the cars drive on the other side of the road and I generally look in the correct direction at this point, but I say starting because I have lost all confidence that I am looking in the right direction. On a similar note, I felt a subconscious nudge the other day to tell someone that nick was my mate, but it still sounded false in my head.
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