Campervan, tent or hostel?

We're here in New Zealand! I've lost my wallet--but that was in America, so New Zealand's cool--if someone shows up pretending to be me, stop her.

Chris and I checked out of the heaving ACB hostel, it's like a backpacker-factory with some 500 beds. The common room crawls with tanned twenty-somethings, and percussive music plays continuously. The new hostel is "cool" too, but a bit smaller and across the street from the library. The lady at the desk, Valeria, radiates enthusiasm and happiness. We came for the cheaper rates, but will stay (a week) for the cheer.

We're just off Queen St., which slopes down to the waterfront. I discovered the tall ship Soren Larsen yesterday afternoon and had a good chat with a few of the crew. She's a beauty, and the crew are fueled by love, not money. Going on board was a highlight for me.

Up the street is a labyrinth of lights, sounds, staircases that skip floors and elevators that skip floors, all disguised as an entertainment center. Last night we tried to find the cinema's ticket booth, we took an elevator too far up, a staircase too far down and in the end only found an enormous concession stand. Maybe someday we will understand, and then we will know we have arrived.