I went snowboarding again with another fun group of people. Having only been in New Zealand for about a month, it seems pretty easy finding people to do stuff with.
We left on Friday after work and drove down in three cars, four people per car and we eventually met up with another couple of people. We went to a little village at the base of Turoa ski area on Mt. Ruapehu . We drank some beers and played some pool. I played teams with some guy, we took control of the board and then played some really rough locals. It was a couple and they both were really rough and mean looking. It looked like they wanted to beat the shit out of us everytime we sunk a ball. I was kind of concerned after we won the first game and nobody would put their money down to play the second game so we ended up playing them again. At this point I could see myself getting into some trouble after my pool partner patted my ass and I felt a serious rage to gouge his eyeballs out with a pool stick and smear his face with blue chalk. It was time to go to bed. No need to unleash the fury.
The next day was freezing with clear blue skies. We were twenty minutes away from the mountain. I spent the morning teaching a newbie boarder how to ride, it was kind of fun, but I am so glad I'm not learning snowboarding again. My ass would surely hurt. Christian took so many tumbles, sometimes it hurt watching. I rode the rest of the afternoon with Ida. Ida was fantastic, she was just a bit faster than me, so it was fun keeping up. It's nice riding with a girl who is just a tad better than you. The problem was I kept taking her out riding the T-bars. T-bars are bloody hell for boarders. I could feel the ligaments in my knees burning out. After I got lost from Ida I ran a couple of runs near a cliff and followed a guy who was hitting some really good jumps. I was really happy with some of the jumps I was taking. I learned my lesson though, if he doesn't hit a jump its probably because there is a sheet of ice on the landing. Oh my ass!!
That evening was 12 people with pizza and beer in a small little room. It felt like we were at camp. The pictures quickly deteriorated into sloppy drunk photos, so not much to share there. Than we watched a rugby game, standing room only in the pub, where I had a couple of people telling me what was going on. Suzy summed it up quite nicely, you can't tip the ball forward.
The next day we went to Whakapapa pronounced Fucka-pupa. I could not stop saying Fucka pupa in a punk rock way, Zoe was getting tired of it. She thought I was a crazy American girl. I was surprised she could hear the voices in my head... Whakapapa was OK, but I like Turoa better for boarding. There were more jumps and it was sunnier on that day. Sunday turned into white conditions, whereby me and Kyle had to walk off the mountain through rock gardens. That was the most horrible run, ups and downs. We had to strap on and off about 6 times before we just opted to walk out. I was hung dehydrated and slow. Kyle offered to carry my board, what a British gentleman, how could I say no?