Dusty Trail Camembert

I met a guy named Yann — a juggling radiographer with a zest for life and an uncanny resemblance to Bret Mackenzie from Flight of the Conchords — the other day in Queenstown while staying with some couchsurfers in a tent for the Jazz Festival (shwing!) and he invited me to hitch a ride with him up the western coast of the Southern Island.  He had never heard of Napolean Brandy so I bought him a bottle and he hated in it.  We slept in his car for 3 days, couchsurfed with a dreadlocked hippie (and CS initiate!!!) in Wanaka and saw a film at the aptly-titled Cinema Paradiso that a Canadian told me about when I met him in the ruins of Sukhothai, Thailand, around 8 months ago.  Yann wouldn’t let me pay for gas and translated my Gilbert Becaud songs in real-time as we cruised through the rain and built fires in corporate mining fields with unending amounts of wood.  We never stopped laughing.  Now I’m in Christchurch and I’m off to the Italian Festival so goodbye.


~ by nearhelsinki on November 1, 2009.

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