The waves are crashing in Wellington, three whole nights. On the first, I go to a small indie club. Good music, but not enough people. Back out into the night, and after five minutes of walking it’s clear why: there’s a club every 50 metres where something is being performed live. Wellington is hardly any bigger than Regensburg, but has probably 10 times as many clubs. That thins out the crowd a bit.

In the second club, a noisy rock band is playing, a mixture of Hives and Black Crowes. There’s a lot of jumping around until one o’clock, then I’m suddenly standing next to a really wild punk. I go through a few clubs with her, then I ask about her parents. “My stepfather’s in prison,” she says, “I got him in.” I ask why, then there’s a long silence. (more…)

On the journey to Wellington, we stop off in Palmerston North for another day. The mood is a little tense. Very little happens, so I’ll just philosophise about a saying that I come across every day on the trip. It’s mainly used as a slogan for hostels and bars. The slogan is: “Your home away from home.”. I ponder.

Why is the slogan so successful? What is home, and how many bars can claim to be home? Do travellers from faraway countries have to drink more beer to get home? Are Germans also at home in Irish pubs? What is the difference to “You come as a stranger and leave as a friend”? In my home country, the saying is at the entrance to the Palais d’Amour. (more…)

From Gisborne, we head south along the east coast. Shortly before Napier we stop in Bay View. The girls let me kite. Good wind at last, fully onshore at 15 knots. Problem: the lava shingle beach drops off steeply. waves 1.5 metres high break directly on the beach. I get washed so hard three times that I find gravel in my wetsuit above my knees. Then I give up. Not my day.

In Napier, Ilka offered us accommodation. We are warmly welcomed and have a nice little asparagus feast for our first dinner. The lemons for the hollondaise come from the tree in the backyard. At night, Quentin drives us into town to celebrate the half-year anniversary. A few bars, some 80s, then home again. Not much happens, just can’t always. (more…)

Today is exactly the halfway point of my world trip. 182 days. It’s raining, but it doesn’t matter. I let the girls drive me from Gisborne to Napier. Taking a breather. Half a year of travelling is over. I set off to find something. I don’t know exactly what. All I know is that I haven’t found it yet. But I’m on my way. And will recognise it when it’s there.

Travelling means something of everything to me, the bad and the good. Much more of both than at home. From all directions. I can no longer imagine how that would work: living in one place. What would there be to experience? How could I beat boredom? How could I sit so still in my favourite pub for so long? Values of screaming restlessness… (more…)

The East Cape is the loneliest and quietest corner of the entire North Island of New Zealand. A brochure points out all the tourist attractions. Unbelievable: you can swim, picnic and fish on the beaches here. Aha. There are rivers where you can go jet boating. If you have one. Oh yes, and you can ride horses. And that’s about it.

The landscape is wild, the land rises steeply directly behind the coast. The sea breaks hard on lava rocks. The only petrol station for 100km is almost invisible, a pump in the middle of nowhere. Immediately afterwards: horses, sheep, cows. On the road and beside it. The sky hangs low in the coastal mountains. The sound of an approaching car startles me. (more…)

The next morning we go shopping in the last big supermarket before the loneliness. There’s a singing Father Christmas next to the entrance. I dance with him, but the Christmas spirit just isn’t there at 24 degrees. There are palm trees outside, and I get a bit cold barefoot and in shorts next to the meat shelf.

Somehow Kiwis are completely different, but always only half. They drive on the wrong side of the road, but still have the right before the left. Christmas is in midsummer, but instead of “Let the sun shine” they play “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas” for Advent shopping. I float past the gingerbread and Christmas beer and out into the glistening sun. (more…)

Another two days at Yaping House in Auckland. Free WiFi and lots of work. Some old friends are still there. Luckily I realise on Sunday that I don’t have to return my car on Monday. The car hire company could have charged me $100 for the one-hour delay. But they don’t. A lost hubcap is also overlooked, as is the sand from 90 Mile Beach that trickles outside when I open the door.

Early the next morning, I make my way back to Tauranga. I want to try something. Everyone said that hitchhiking would be super easy in New Zealand. Unfortunately, I think this idea is a bit outdated. (more…)

Took a few days off for work. The girls want to do the Tongariro Crossing. So we move to Turangi at the southern end of Lake Taupo. The road goes right through the heartland of the North Island. Long stretches of gravel track. It’s called “The Forgotten World Highway”. I couldn’t think of a more fitting name.

Early in the morning, I take the girls to the start of the Tongariro Crossing up into the national park. Within just two weeks, a lot of snow has melted on the volcano and the weather is also much better. From the start you can already see Mount Taranaki 150 kilometres further along the coast. The crowds of visitors are also increasing. Today there must be 200 people at the start before 8am. (more…)

Somehow I’m gradually developing a soft spot for heavy physical exercise after short, heavy nights. This night was very short again and my head was quite cloudy in the morning. We check out of the hostel and make our way to the nearby Mount Taranaki / Mount Egmont at around 10am. a 2500 metre volcano rises directly from the sea into the sky.

Even the journey there is awe-inspiring. After half a round trip, we arrive at the top car park at just under 1000m around midday. Unfortunately, we are a little too late for a full ascent. From 2000 metres upwards, you need high alpine equipment because the thing is still glaciated at the top. We set off on shaky legs. (more…)

Unfortunately, the good wind didn’t materialise. On the last day, my kite simply fell out of the sky. Should probably go on. On the way to New Plymouth, we stop off in Waitomo. Glow worms await us in the largest caves in New Zealand. Our guide Tim gives an impressive and gory description of how it’s better not to abseil. Then we descend 30 metres vertically.

We walk along an underground river. A few hundred metres from the entrance, we switch off our lamps. All the walls glow green in the light of millions of glowworms. One fly caught makes the arse of the glowworms glow for three months. It would be pretty cool if humans could do the same: glow with their bums after eating instead of stinking… (more…)

Something just wants to reward us. When it’s good, it just gets better. There’s no way down, only up. We leave the small farm and head south again. It’s time for the rest of the North Island. We drive through ancient kauri forests. We stop for lunch by the sea in a small restaurant that looks like Green Tomatoes.

Then we take the ferry across an arm of the sea that thought it could block our way. No chance, and on to Omapere. Gigantic sand dunes pile up on an arm of land off the coast. Even bigger than the ones we rode the day before yesterday. You could ride right into the sea here. We climb down the steep coast to the sea. (more…)

A great day must be followed by a bad one. But who sticks to the rules here? We set off early, with a car. First a little to the north, and then along well-hidden and gated paths to the west to 90 Mile Beach. Maoris show us the way. The last few metres are through ankle-deep sand and a small river. Jeep? Pah, Toyota Starlet!

Ninety-Mile Beach is not as long as its name suggests. But it is infinitely wide, now at low tide. The sand is firm and very even. At one point, a Kiwi held the high-speed world record here for a few years at 264 km/h. A few Maoris are driving around in big jeeps with a hundred fishing rods. We have other plans. (more…)

We set off early, four people, two cars. Our first destination is probably the only place in the world where you can shit on art with impunity and intellectual integrity. Hundertwasser spent his last 16 years in Kawakawa, leaving behind a public centre of deprivation.

Allgäu likes to heat things up and is still pushing even though I’m already stoking well. Later she says she would like to drive a racing car. I have to grin. We drive through the northern Northland towards the end of New Zealand. We cross the last of the primeval Kauri forests on rollercoaster-like roads. Cédric has been unwell for a long time. Everyone is a bit shattered from yesterday, which requires a few forced stops. (more…)

Today I’m heading out to the Bay of Islands. I’ve booked a tour where you can swim with dolphins. Seven o’clock is not a good time after the last short night. But the morning over the bay makes up for everything. The captain of the speed catamaran is a copy of Sandra Bullock. I wonder which film made her decide to take this job?

After just an hour at sea, we spot the first group of dolphins. They are on the hunt, swim fast and are difficult to track even with the speed cat. Again and again they jump out of the water in the morning sun. At some point, the dolphins seem to have had enough. They slow down and approach the boat. (more…)

In the morning, I finally swap cars. Smaller, newer and much safer. As I return the estate early, I’m stuck with an extra $100. No matter. Onwards. Up to Yaping House. An email almost tears me apart, but it’s good, very good. Frees me up. The sun is shining and the radio is playing Foo Fighters. I set off for Nordland.

A day to heat up. I only find out how much 20km/h too much costs in the evening. Tomorrow I’ll drive slower. On the almost 180 kilometres from Auckland to Whangarei, I stop at every single beach. I’m on the hunt for wind. My new yellow wings insistently demand to be released from the boot. But there is no wind until shortly before Whangarei. (more…)

I check out early the next morning. Drive on to Papamoa. Glenn is in Auckland, but his son can just as easily sell me a kite. As long as the kite is as good as it looks, I’ve landed a good deal. Barely used 12 North Vegas 07 incl. 1 year old bar and pump/leash for 430€. Got my wings back. Keep flying.

The Coromandel Peninsula is one of the oldest settlement areas in New Zealand. Both Maori and Europeans. It’s much warmer here. The landscape changes constantly between the Allgäu and the Dominican Republic. I fly a little carelessly, almost running out of fuel at the tip of the peninsula, 50 kilometres from the nearest petrol station. (more…)

In the morning I want to swap my car for a smaller one. Pete had rung A2B. Result: I have to hand this one in, there’s no new one. Half an hour’s hassle, then I drive on with the old one. It’s off to Mount Maunganui. A New Zealander on Nananu-i-Ra had put me in touch with a contact for cheap kites.

Cruising together is on the radio. Dead animals lie on the road. Tequila’s vibrations are getting worse. The first thing I do in Mount Maunganui is look for a hostel where I can use my laptop. It only takes three hours and seven hostels. Not even the tourist information centre can help. An hour’s internet costs a whopping €8. I can’t work here. I want to earn something too. (more…)

We drive on to Rotorua, an old thermal spa town. Geysers and mud holes bubble all around us. You can let off whatever you want without hesitation. There is sulphur in the air everywhere. Everything is incredibly expensive, especially adrenaline rushes. Our accommodation is Cactus Jack, a nice western village hostel in downtown Rotorua. Lisa has organised a meeting with the two Daves from Mana.

The night gets off to a bloody start. At some point I hear that the two Daves are heading south. The four of us had rented a campervan for three weeks. After five days, I’m left alone. The lights go out, the night gets even bloodier. A concert, a club. The constant “Are you alright?” Questions annoy me. No, not at all. (more…)

The night is only three hours short. At five o’clock we pack our things and catch the bus to Tongariro Crossing, an eight-hour trek across an active volcano. The sun is rising. The rocks at Lake Taupo look like Middle Earth. We set off an hour later. The path first leads gently through black lava fields and low-hanging clouds.

The ascent soon becomes more challenging. 300 metres in altitude over a loose lava field with a 60% gradient leave us steaming. At the top, the clouds break and we can see the summit of the volcano Mount Ruapehu. Then we pass through the first crater. The earth steams as we pass snow-covered slopes. (more…)

Die Erde schaut von oben ganz anders aus. Ich schau aus dem Flugzeugfenster, während eine Japanerin krampfhaft versucht durch wilde Fingergesten die DVD von ihrem Skydive zu einem wirklich bleibenden Erlebnis zu machen. Mein Puls ist unerwartet ruhig. Hatte zuvor eine Flasche Jägermeister geteilt mit Kevin, einem netten Kanadier, den ich im Fiji Beach House kennengelernt hatte.

Die Gruppe hat ihre erste Belastungsprobe. Wir gehen am Morgen einkaufen. Ja, das Essen ist selbst in den billigsten Supermärkten mindestens doppelt so teuer wie in Europa oder Kanada. Aber als wir anfangen, getrennt einzukaufen geht bei mir ein Licht aus. Egal was teuer oder billig ist: wer kein Geld für den grundlegendsten Genuss der Welt hat, wird verhungern, wie auch immer. (more…)

The last night in Auckland is a slaughter. I simply can’t see any more blood and so I go to bed early. But I still can’t sleep, the party and the snoring afterwards are too loud.

In the morning, after three hours’ sleep, I head back into the centre of Auckland on my own. Again in the rain. I am the first customer at A2R car hire. The price is great, the car very rudimentary. There’s really nothing about the estate that you don’t need. Crank the windows, adjust the mirrors by hand. And back up to Mount Eden to meet our mates. It’s a quick farewell. Although we all brought the apocalypse to Eden, the hostel owner says she would be delighted to see us again. We set off in the rain. (more…)

Pete, the anti-Ami, joins us. We head through the rain to Central Auckland to hire a car. It’s a sign: no car today. No movement. It’s been the same for days. Partying until we drop. I’m very tired. Don’t stay out, but don’t really stay in either. I’m not travelling the world to slowly dissolve. I’m looking for crystallisation points.

I lose money at roulette in the casino and win every poker match as long as it involves beer. Meanwhile, New Zealand is celebrating the third day of an old assassination attempt on the English Parliament. With fireworks. Lisa and Marc hang over the third bottle of tequila. I try to slow down where I can. But at some point I give up. They have to find the bottom themselves. (more…)