New Zealand is such an awesome holiday destination, but it does have some really odd place names.

My sister’s place is at Rototuna. Today I’m staying at a place called Whangarei, and tomorrow I’ll be diving at a place called Tutukaka.
Imagine that! A place called “Tutukaka”! Lucky it’s called “Tutukaka” and not “Kukutata”, because that was my other nickname.
Don’t you know? My nickname was “Kukutata” because my “kuku” is very “tata”.

A lot of these names are Maori instead of English, and that is why they sounded so weird.
For a Malaysian travelling in New Zealand, these Maori names can be quite confusing and difficult to remember. Most of the time I had to translate them into something else that sounded similar in Mandarin or Hokkien, just so it’s easier for me to remember.
For example, this is how I remember some of the road names.

“Fish is softer” road.

Wrong street.

Shit street.
“No exit” means it’s having constipation.

“Ant.”

Hotel “Bad Brother.”

“Caucasian brother” street.

“Good father” street.

“Go f*ck yourself” street.

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Rotorua was great for doing something different, like zorbing, but there really wasn’t anything blog-worthy to mention.

Excuse me, aren’t you supposed to paddle when you’re inside the river?

I could tell you that I went whitewater rafting, but nothing fantastic happened. The two most exciting coming out from that activity was:
1. Falling off a two-storey high waterfall in an inflatable boat with a bunch of Scottish guys.

2. Me getting into the most ridiculous-looking wet suit EVER.

WTF. That thing is so bloody tight, my balls had trouble breathing. I had to secretly stick a straw into my suit in case the little fella died due to lack of oxygen.

I could tell you that I visited some natural geothermal wonders, but honestly there wasn’t anything much worth blogging about a place with a couple of mud pools and some funky-coloured ponds.

Aduh warning sign. What kinda idiot would walk into a pool anyway

Find a hole in the ground, give it some evil-sounding name and call it a tourist destination.

What lah, I can also do that.
From Rotorua, we drove down to the scenic town of Taupo. Along the way we stopped by for lunch at New Zealand’s only freshwater prawn farm and paid NZD$29.50 / RM74 for 8 pieces of prawn of a species imported from Malaysia. Siao.

Prawns are so expensive here in New Zealand because the country does not have the warm climate necessary to breed prawns naturally. The Kiwis had to import heaps of them from Malaysia and other countries.
Not far away from the prawn farm is a place I totally recommend visiting if you’re around the region.

The honey toast here is absolutely heavenly. Thinking about their irish cream honey fudge still makes my mouth water till this day.
New Zealand has some of the world’s best-tasting honey. So good that Amway has begun to import them and sell them for RM100 a jar. Ridiculous.

We finally reached the lovely town of Taupo in the evening. The views here are breathtakingly gorgeous.

The centerpiece attraction here is Lake Taupo, a large freshwater lake approximately the size of Singapore that was created following the collapse of a super volcano thousands of years ago.

Every photo I took here is postcard quality, thanks to the panaromic views of the lake and mountains. It’s no wonder this place is one of the most popular tourist destinations in New Zealand North Island.

They say the further south you go from New Zealand, the better the views are. I certainly cannot argue with that.
For a change, we decided to do homestay while in Taupo. Our hosts are a 78-year-old couple who live alone with their two dogs and rent their spare rooms out to holidaymakers.

With our hosts John and Norli Reid, and dogs Bouncer and Toss

It’s not everyday I share the same roof with someone also on Wikipedia with me, eventhough he probably doesn’t even know he’s in there.
The patriach of the family John Reid is a former captain of New Zealand’s cricket team, and from what I heard, is quite a legend himself. Too bad the only cricket I know is the one that makes a lot of noise in my backyard at night.

I could tell our presence was a welcome break from their loneliness.
Over breakfast I told the old couple that I’m working in IT. They didn’t understand what “IT” means. I had to explain to them that it’s “stuff to do with computers”. John’s eyes lit up immediately and he explained to me this nagging tech problem he’s having.
“I have this mobile phone that used to ring, but now it doesn’t ring when people call. Because of that I haven’t used it for 6 months already.”

It took me 2 seconds to change the phone profile from silent back to normal. When his phone rang for the first time in 6 months, John was so happy he danced to the ringtone.
It’s a great feeling when you can make old people laugh and dance.

Staying with them was definitely one of the highlights of my trip. The old couple treated us with such warmth and hospitality. When we’re about to leave, they almost forgot to ask for payment.

From the Reid household in Taupo, we drove a further 1.5 hours south up to the Whakapapa Snow Fields for some skiing action.

“Whakapapa” is a Maori word. In Maori, “WH-” is pronounced “F-“. So “Whakapapa” is pronounced “Fucker Papa”.
Serious.

Unfortunately God wasn’t on our side. Winter has already ended. The snow levels at the ski fields were kinda low and protuding rocks were everywhere. Very dangerous.
I skied around a bit, then decided I’d be too much of an idiot to risk breaking a bone for a moment of fun. So instead, I indulged in the safer sport of camwhoring.

And some more.

And a bit more.

Then I realised I was looking damn gay. So I stopped what I was doing just drove all the way back to Hamilton, concluding our memorable, exhausting yet exhilirating NZ North Island trip.

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It’s great that I was staying in Hamilton because Hamilton is the gateway to New Zealand North Island’s scenic countryside.

Baby stole my wallet

On the fourth day of my travels, I left my sister’s place to drive towards the Waitomo. Turned out the hardest thing for me to do was to leave the house. Jayden was crying non-stop because I woke up late and didn’t have time to play with him in the morning.

Waitomo is 1.5 hours drive from Hamilton and is best known for its system of underground limestone caves. What made these caves really special is that they are inhabited by colonies of tiny little insects called “glow worms”. These insects hang over cave ceilings and emit blue bioluminesence lights, literally from their asses, to attract food and sex.
If all it takes for chicks to have sex with me is for my ass to glow blue light, I think I wanna be a glow worm too.

We took the guided Spellbound tour into the caves (costs NZD$47.50 / RM 119 per person). If you want to, you could do blackwater rafting and abseiling in Waitomo. I didn’t because the costs are way out of my budget.

It was freaking cold inside the caves, but the experience was worth it. Our guide gave each of us hard hats that made us looks like miners. Once we hiked deep inside, she got us to switch off our headlamps.

Without all the light pollution from outside, the entire cave glowed like the brightest stars I’ve ever seen, only instead of stars were millions of glow worms everywhere above our heads.

Outside the caves, the Waitomo landscape looks like the Land of the Teletubbies with its strange-looking hills. Apparently, many of the Shire scenes in the Lord of the Rings were filmed in this area.
The entire tour took only about 3.5 hours. When we finished, we still got a bit of time on our hands so we made an excursion to Marokopa Falls.

This is one spectacular waterfall not many tour buses would take you to since it’s a bit out of the way. I’m just glad I’m on a self-drive tour.
Another one of the best things about touring around in a car is that you can at your own pace, stop and see many peculiar sights along the way. And trust me, there are lots of them in the New Zealand countryside.

Slow down. Cows crossing.

From Hamilton heading towards Rotorua, we encountered in one of the towns, a giant building shaped like a dog.

Got tongue hanging out some more

It’s the New Zealand Tourist Information Centre.
Next to it, is a giant building shaped like a sheep, selling sheep products.

Eeek! Giant man-eating sheep!

Those crazy New Zealanders, though you gotta admit that it’s actually kinda cute.
I have an idea. I reckon Malaysia could perhaps take a leaf out of the Kiwi’s book and do something similar.
After reading about the Penang Municipal Council President implying that women who wear normally office attire are bringing upon themselves to be sexually harrassed because it is “sexy”, I suggest that the Penang Municipal Council building be renovated into this.


Considering how much shit came out from the president’s mouth, I think this design is only appropriate.

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There wasn’t much to do within Auckland City itself, so I decided to return to my sister’s place in Hamilton after two days of dilly-dallying around.

I matamata you then you know!

It’s a scenic 1.5 hour drive from Auckland down to Hamilton. I have to say again, it’s such a joy driving around in New Zealand. The roads are smooth and there are no traffic jams. When I’m driving, I feel like I’m in one of those TV car ads.
I don’t know how the Kiwis do it, but everything in New Zealand just seems to look so much better compared to what we have back home. Even their graveyards look better than ours.

See? Got eerie fog some more.

Hamilton is supposedly New Zealand’s 4th largest city, but I reckon it’s still really kinda small. There isn’t a single high-rise building and the city centre is just one simple street through. Even Kuching itself is much bigger than Hamilton.
The little city itself doesn’t have much in terms of tourist attractions. Then again, what it lacks in quantity, it certainly makes up for in quality.

The only interesting place we visited there was Hamilton Garden, which is the location where I took the photo in the Microsoft-Windows-NZ-desktop-turned-racist-Malaysian-political-discussion entry.

It would’ve been a pretty ordinary trip for me if it weren’t for my sister’s two kids who went with us that day.
My sister’s kids are three-year-old Jayden…

And two-year-old Kirsten…

Those two angels are truly the life of the party.
The main attraction of the Hamilton Gardens is the six gardens designed and landscaped to reflect the different cultures of the world. Our first stop was the Japanese Garden of Contemplation.

Those angmohs did a pretty good job creating a garden with Japanese influences, right down to this huge ass stone lamp on the path.

I pointed the lamp out to Jayden and asked, “what is this?”.
He took one look at it and proudly declared “THAT IS A MUSHROOM HOUSE!”
“No Jayden, it’s a lamp.”
“IT’S A MUSHROOM HOUSE!”

A short walk away is the Chinese Scholar’s Garden.

This is the coolest garden ever. Walking along the Chinese garden, I can’t help but to act like I’m one of those typical master you see in ancient Chinese movies.
Like I’m supposed to sit on a bench, recite a poem, laugh heartily, then stroke my imaginary beard while staring wisely into the distance.

We took a short break at the American Modernist Garden. This garden pales in comparison with the other. It just looks like someone’s backyard with a swimming pool and a potrait of Marilyn Monroe.

By this time, Kirsten’s hair was beginning to get messy. She’s now looking like some Tarzan girl who just came out from the wild jungles.

I still love her though.
Kirsten doesn’t smile a lot, but when she does she has a smile that makes my heart melt. Like when she sees a furry puppy.

Or when she gets to play with water.

Her elder brother Jayden smiles too, but he’s a lot cheekier when he does that.

At the Indian Char Bagh Garden.

The most impressive garden by far at the Hamilton Gardens is the Italian Renaissance Garden.

There’s this scary-looking water outlet at the garden.

Jayden wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

Kirsten is just happy there’s water to play with.

Kirsten Corleone. Heh.

I like this photo of Kirsten looking like a serial killer.
Anyway, this entry is only meant to be a photo album of sorts instead of one filled with lame one-liners. So I shall end this entry with my favourite photo of my favourite baby girl.

There’s no reason why she shouldn’t be the cover girl of my desktop wallpaper! 😉

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Auckland, City of Sails, is the largest and most populous city in New Zealand.

Auckland is located on the North Island of New Zealand. I was there last September to visit my sister and her family living in Hamilton, another city about 1.5 hours drive south. This was my second visit to New Zealand. Previously, I had explored the country’s South Island and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Sky Tower, Southern Hemisphere’s tallest free standing building.

Auckland is a lot like a miniature version of Sydney. In fact, it feels very much like a replica of any other big cities in Australia, yet still unique in its own special way. There aren’t many places in the world where you could find a busy seaport, a wet market, the central business district, a volcano and a farm all located virtually next to each other. But that’s Auckland for ya.

My feet at 193m above ground

Apart from bungy jumping off the Harbour Bridge, I was kinda disappointed there isn’t anything else different to experience in Auckland City. Occasionally you see people doing stupid things, like jumping off a tower for fun.

But the city itself doesn’t seem to have much to offer. Shopping isn’t exactly cheap in New Zealand and the food generally is only so-so. Then again, Auckland isn’t known for its food or shopping.

The path to the summit of Mt Victoria, Devonport

It’s very easy to take good photos in Auckland.
Everything in Auckland is beautiful. The sceneries here are very beautiful. Even their sheep poo looks beautiful.

While in Auckland, I visited a few of its popular suburbs. One of my favourites is Devonport, an artistic tranquil laidback little suburb popular for its rows of nice cafes and restaurants.

Mushrooms, in a cosy little cafe called Spitfire.

Everything in Devonport is simple. The residents here live a very simple life. Even their cars look simple.

They’re happy just to wake up every morning, take their pampered dogs out for a walk, then sit by one of the cafes reading a book while sipping latte.

A coffee bean roaster. I LOVE COFFEE.

When I retire, I want to live a life like that and drink coffee everyday.

None Tree Hill

The famous One Tree Hill is another interesting place I visited in Auckland. Only problem is, the one tree hill is removed and replaced by an obelisk.
The hill reserve is actually a family farm, unusually located in the middle of the busy city. This must be the only place in the world where farm animals like sheeps and cows can roam around munching on grasses while city dwellers jogs up and down the hill.
Stupid joggers must kena lots of sheep poo on their shoes.

When the night come, I met up with an old friend of mine Joanne Chin for dinner at this nice Belgian restaurant called The Occidental. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but out of everything that I could have possibly ordered, I asked for their signature Belgian sausage that comes in a shape that looks amazingly like a piece of shit.

The shitty piece of Belgian sausage that I “occidentally” ordered

It tasted quite bland. I didn’t finish it.
The best way for independant travellers like myself to move around in Auckland is by private car. Still, I’m a little bit not used to this sort of luxury. For a big city like Auckland, it is kinda strange that public transport here sucks big time. Buses and trains are infrequent and expensive so many tourists prefer not to utilise them.

A bus trip from Auckland Airport to the city costs NZD$23 per person. Hiring a small car to drive around yourself costs only NZD$29 for the whole day. I’m lucky enough to borrow a car from my sister. Having a sister who lives in New Zealand can also cut costs tremendously. 😛

Thankfully, the roads are well signposted and it’s extremely easy to tour around self-driven. But from time to time, I had to stop to ask for directions and that’s where the fun starts.

City workers “catching snakes” at a fountain in Auckland’s CBD

New Zealanders speak in a weird accent. It’s close to Australians, but weirder compared to them. At least with Australians, you could still understand them. With New Zealanders, the words could mean something else completely.

Looks like something straight out of a Superman movie

You see, Kiwis pronounce “fish and chips” as “fush and chups”. They pronounce “left” as “lift”.
I once asked for a directions to get to a tourist destination, and the guy told me to “drive down this road and take a lift, go all the way down and take another lift“.
I looked at him one kind and asked if my car can fit into the lift.

Colourful suburban houses

Worse, Kiwis also pronounce “six” and “sex”.
I once bought something from a shop, and the girl at the counter said I need to pay “sex dollars and ten cents”.
She wasn’t too amused when I unzipped my pants.

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In New Zealand, if you want to eat pizzas, you can go to Hell.

No wait! Don’t shut down this window! I wasn’t scolding you!
What I mean is… there’s this very popular pizza chain store in New Zealand. And it’s called Hell.

The pizza business is very competitive in NZ. With the dominating Pizza Hut, Pizza Haven and Domino’s all vying for the slice of the pie pizza in the market, the consumers are literally spoilt for choice.
Already, pizza prices are as low as they can get due to hellacious competition. Newcomers can only dream of making ends meet. To get themselves noticed, someone gotta come up with something different.

Even Hell has opening hours. Cannot anyhow come at anytime one you know?

Along comes Hell Pizzas with a pretty interesting concept that sets itself apart from the rest.
I paid a visit to Hell when I was in New Zealand.

This is what Hell looks like.
What the hell? Looks pretty normal to me leh. A far cry from the underworld of pain and suffering Haw Par Villa wants me to believe. Cheh, bluff people one.
But then I got a chuckle out of the brochure they handed out.

Instead of “Delivery”, they have “Deliverance”.
Instead of “All Rights Reserved”, they have “All Wrongs Reserved”.
Their hotline number is 0800 666 111, and they call it Hell Emergency. (“666” is the biblical number of the Anti-Christ and “111” is the number to dial for emergency in New Zealand.)
Hell, even their pizzas are wickedly named.

You don’t get Hawaiian Supreme or stuff like that here. Instead, Hell has got a wide selection of pizzas, including a series named after the 7 deadly sins.
In Hell, you can walk in and ask for Trouble and no one’s gonna laugh at you. But if you do that in Malaysia, you’re gonna leave the shop with a set of broken teeth.

Amazingly, you can even order Holy Water in Hell.

I ordered a “Wrath” just for the hell of it, and it came in this kind of pizza box.

Hypersensitive people will look at it and go “WHOA! SUAY AH! GOT COFFIN ONE!” Actually, I find it very humourous.
Their pizza tastes pretty yummy too.

Best of all, when I finished the delicious pizza, the side of the box asked me to “dispose of the evidence”. Hehe.

Props up to the Kiwis for coming up with something so creative and funny. It makes me wonder if a similar concept can be brought over to Malaysia.

Behold, Hell Kolo Mee!

Hmmm… probably not. 😛
Happy Halloween, everybody!

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While I was at the smelly town of Rotorua, I paid a visit to a Maori cultural village called Mitai.

The Maoris are the indigenous natives of New Zealand. According to legend, they came to New Zealand hundreds of years ago in large canoes, in a time before the European settlers arrived.
These days, although they are in the minority, much respect has been given to the Maori tradition and culture in modern New Zealand. They are to New Zealand what the Red Indians are to USA, the Malays are to Peninsular Malaysia, the Ibans are to Sarawak.
Entrance to the village costs NZD 68 / RM 167. When we arrived, we’re given a preview of dinner for later that night.

Do you smell what the rock is cooking?

The “hangi” is the Maori’s version of a barbeque. Stuff like chicken, lamb, potatoes are put on top of a pit filled with heated rocks and then cooked for several hours.

Tribal food normally tasted like somewhere between crap and dog poo, but this was the best meal I had in the long time. Maybe I was starving, but when I finally laid my hands on the meal, I gobbled everything down like a fat kid at Pizza Hut. The hangi produced a flavour so succulent, it’s unlike anything else I’ve tasted before.
Before dinner, we bushwalked through the forest to the stage where we were treated to the traditional Maori cultural performances.

It was a fascinating experience for me, because from learning about their tribal way of life, I realised much of the Maori cultural draws parallel to the tribal Iban culture I know of back home. Just like the Ibans, the Maoris place a lot of spiritual importance on their weapons, clothing and tattoos.
Without a doubt, the best part of the cultural performance is the traditional Maori Haka Dance.

The Haka dance

It’s the same dance used by the All Blacks before the start of their rugby match to boost team morale and scare away their opponents. The dance involves synchronised slapping of the thigh and chest, bulging of the eyes, sticking out of the tongues, all the while shouting in a foreign language few people understand.
Some people joke about the Haka Dance, saying that its the equivalent of a Maori wondering “where the f**k I put my car keys!?” But trust me, as much as I wanna laugh at a bunch of grown men dancing around in G-strings, I gotta admit it was terrifying just watching it.
Sitting there in the audience I was thinking if they wanted to eat me for dinner or something.

Please note that it is spelt as the HAKA dance, with one “k”. Not HAKKA, which is a Chinese dialect.
If you want to see a Hakka dance, just go to a night club in Malaysia playing Ah Beng techno music and you’ll see this familiar sight.

Want to see a Hakka dance?

Don’t have to fly all the way to New Zealand.

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Ask a New Zealander how to spell the word “die”, he’d probably spell it as “F-U-N”.

New Zealand is essentially one big theme park for grown-ups. If you ever got bored from riding childish rollercoasters in theme parks, NZ is the place to go. Apart from introducing the world’s first commercialised bungy jumping, the Kiwis has also invented another form of extreme sports called “Zorbing“.

The Zorb is basically this one giant plastic ball surrounded by a cushion of air. The whole concept behind zorbing is quite simple. To play, you climb your whole body into the Zorb. Then with some help, the ball (with you in it) is rolled off the top of a slope, then you bounce and spin and fall until you reached the end of the track downhill.
It’s a milder form of extreme sports. If you managed to remain on your two feet till the very end, they’ll even throw you a Zorb T-shirt in for free. Otherwise, just enjoy the very, very bumpy ride.
Trust the Kiwis to come up with stupid ideas and then make a lot of money from it all in the name of fun.

What happened to 2001? Not pretty enough is it?

Zorbing sites can be found throughout the world, but the original one is in Rotorua, New Zealand where this crazy sport began.
Rotorua is a small town about 3 hours drive south of Auckland. It is very popular destination among holidayers, largely because it is a geothermal area dotted with natural hot springs and mudpools.

One of Rotorua’s famous hot springs

I don’t know why people like to holiday here, because personally I don’t think it’s a pleasant city to be in. See, the unfortunate side effect of hot springs is that the entire town is practically filled with foul-smelling sulfuric gases. By “sulfuric gases”, I mean the air here smells like shit, literally.
The smell there is so bad, it’s like everyone in Rotorua is walking around with shit in their pants.

Behold, Mother Nature’s fart hole!

I wish I could upload the smell here onto kennysia.com to let you have a sample of how bad the air here is. I don’t know how the residents even managed to live in here under such torturous conditions. Maybe it’s a bit like when you discreetly let off a silent fart bomb in front of your friends. You don’t feel it yourself, but everyone around you are covering their noses to protect themselves from dying a slow painful death.
But enough about Rotorua and how shitty it smells.

Zorbing costs NZD45 / RM110 per person – which is expensive in real world terms, but cheap for the dose of serotonin-boost it provides.
The original Zorb is one that has harness straps inside or you to hold on to. Most people opt for the “hydro” option, where the Zorbs are filled with water for lubrication. And that’s the option I went for.

Click to check out the video. You might wanna turn off the speakers, unless you wanna hear me screaming and laughing in orgasmic delight. *shy*

From the outside, it looks like a giant golf ball. From the inside, it feels like being inside one big washing machine. As soon as I hit the first bump, I was thrown off balance and bounced around violently within the cushion walls of air. I couldn’t even stand on my feet! The whole thing lasted only a minute and a half, but it was craziness to the max from the get go.
Coming out from the tight wet hole of Zorb, I feel like I was born again.
Think Zorbing is only for the young and fearless? Think again.

It was so fun I almost shat in my pants.
Which is fine really. Because in Rotorua, everyone smells like they got shit in their pants.

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The thing that never ceases to amaze me about countryside New Zealand is their endless landscape of lush rolling green hills.

You know what they remind me of?


The default Windows XP desktop.

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New Zealand is widely known as the capital of extreme sports, and rightfully so.

I tell ya, those Kiwis are a bunch of crazy people.
When Malaysians have nothing else better to do, we watch a DVD, maybe play Counterstrike or write a blog. When Kiwis have nothing else better to do, those nutcases find an excuse to perform death-defying stunts like hiking through Antartica or jumping off a bridge for thrills.

The popular “extreme sport” known as bungy jumping, is in fact first commercialised by a New Zealander by the name of AJ Hackett.
Most of you guys probably don’t know this, but I am actually quite a pro in extreme sports. And by extreme sports, I mean gliding down the slide in a kid’s playground.

Extreme sheeps

Since I’ve travelled all the way to New Zealand, capital of extreme sports and home of commercialised bungy jumping, I figured why not give this easy little game a shot.

And what better place for my first bungy jump than at Auckland Harbour Bridge, the landmark icon of the City of Sails.
Bungy jumping off the Auckland Harbour Bridge costs NZD85/RM208 per person, which is pretty expensive considering what I’m about to put myself through. The fun begins as soon as I was suited up with a very tight harness.

Suddenly I feel like I about to engage in S&M activities.
Anyway, we were led to AJ Hackett’s purpose-built bungy jump pod, located about 10 minutes from their office underneath the Auckland Harbour Bridge.

The walk to the top was actually quite pleasant, if not for the fact that IT IS A VERY FAR WAY TO THE BOTTOM.
I never had a problem with a fear of height. But watching the water flow beneath the bridge is very different to knowing that you’re about to jump all the way down in a few minutes.

I looked down to the water. We were at least 40 metres up. That’s the height of a 15-storey high building. That’s like jumping off and freefalling from the top of Hilton Kuching.
By the time we reached the platform, I know there’s no turning back. At this point, I feel really stupid for paying over RM200 just to jump down a bridge.

There’s five of us, and the jumping order was decided in the order of decreasing weight. The instructor wrote our weight on our hand with red marker pen, which is really sad because for the rest of the day I had to walk around Auckland with my weight clearly written on my hand.
Insultingly, I was the heaviest among the group. That means I got to go first. *#%*&$&%$%!!

There’s nothing much I could do. All I did was sit there and letting him suit me up.
I was scared. No, I was terrified. In fact, I was pissing my pants. And there’s no toilet around.
Before I know it, I was teteering at the edge of the jumping platform, the instructor was holding onto my harness. And then he went “5 – 4 – 3 – 2 – 1 – GO!”

Just click to watch the video. Words cannot do this justice.
All I remember was that my veins were pumping as I stood on the ledge. I remember letting out a good scream, and as I jumped, my heart almost jumped out from my mouth. I remember reaching out to touch the icecold river water, then spinning and spinning aimlessly in midair as I waited for them to haul me up.
What I don’t remember is, WHY THE HELL AM I PAYING MONEY TO DO THIS?!
One thing for sure, the adrenaline rush I experienced was absolutely incredible.

Afterwards, we went back to the office and I was further raped by AJ Hackett for a set of photos and DVD costing NZD60 / RM147. In the end, I spent a total of about RM350 for my first bungy jump, and it was worth every single cent of it.
Best of all, I even got a certificate to prove myself.

Well, bungy jumping may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but this is one exhilarating activity that comes 100% recommended from me. We lived only once, so might as well make full use of it yea?

Bungy jumping is fun.
It’s like committing suicide. Without dying.

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