Above the sky

One of my many wish list items is to ski in New Zealand. I forget where and who I heard about it from, but it has been a long desired activity, one that I pursued this past NZ winter. And I have absolutely no regrets.

Most of my trip was overcast to rainy. Until I went to the slopes. Despite the mountains being much smaller in scale than the ones in North America, the view was just as spectacular. Perhaps better in the sense that while I was cold, I wasn't freezing my butt off to the point of chattering teeth. The climate was milder and the slopes proportionally gentler as well. Being above the clouds, though, I couldn't help but pretend that I was flying above the clouds as I swoshed my way downhill.

The one time in my life I truly really really screamed

Just to remind you all that, while I tend to be a more serious and reserved person, I do have a sense of adventure and a healthy dose of spunk.

My philosophy in travel lately has been to do things instead of regretting that I didn't do them later. When I found myself in the birthplace of the bungy (note, Americans, it's spelt "bungy" not "bungee") in Queenstown, New Zealand, I knew I had to do the jump even though just before ever going to NZ I had been adamant that any sort of jumping- off a bridge, out of a plane, off a ski ramp- is something I would never get myself into. My verdict? Outrageously expensive for an extremely short split second, but, damn, it sure comes with some awesome bragging rights. And I will never ever ever do it again.