Eighty days in Queenstown

“My name’s Alice, and I’ve been a Queenstowner for 80 days now.”

*pause for applause*

Ok so it’s not exactly much of an achievement, but this Jules Verne inspired milestone has allowed me to reflect a little on my experience of the bubble that is Queenstown. I use the word bubble as this is how it has been described to me on several different occasions.

Like so many of us here, I came from a ‘proper job’ abroad, getting paid ‘proper money’, saving some, spending much on frivolities, unnecessaries in an attempt to capture the happiness that all those people on the advertisements have because they’ve got the newest 3D Ready-HD-Plasma-Flat Screen-Moron Box. I myself had a totally unnecessary convertible, roof down, Armani shades on… shit it’s raining. Thing is, I wasn’t all that satisfied with real life. Bit too serious, bit too boring, bit too middle England.

Real life… now I have been told that Queenstown is not real life. The Winter season has begun and there is actually snow on the mountains. We work, we ride, we party, we’re skint, we work, we ride, we party, we’re skint. I’ve got a little secret for you though. I think we’re mostly happy. We’re happy because we work with friends, we ride with friends, we party with friends and we’re skint with friends. Now if that’s not real life, or at least what real life should be then call me Phileas, bring on the next 80 days, this bubble isn’t popping any time soon.

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