Sunday, March 23, 2008

The Hidden Peril of Buscot Station : Canterbury Plains, New Zealand

Buscot Station Lodge is the love child of a cozy retreat for backpackers and the aspiring set of a horror film.

Check it:
  • An isolated homestead packed with stuffy furniture covered in doilies, a collection of fragile china tea cups, thick oriental rugs and a lot of tiny blood-sucking insects.
  • The proprietor, a deep-voiced sixty-something slow talker heavily into monotoning 24/7 political discourses and snapping at his house boy.
  • The house boy, a skinny Jewish (but not from Israel) high-pitched switch-hitter twinkling about in short short shorts and dark sunglasses asking all the girls what games they played as children and surreptitiously taking time-lapse pictures of his favorite ladies while they ate dinner.
  • People taking really long showers.
  • Rusted scythes and heavy farm machinery strewn around a decrepit garage.
  • The midnight drone of immense harvesters tirelessly circling the farm house.
  • A dormitory above the garage overflowing with pubescent teenage boys in their perpetually damp rowing team uniforms.
  • All the hikers sleeping in a tent city
  • A sheep named "Rabbit."
Do I get a commission if the place gets discovered and agents up?

(But it was really really nice to be able to use the washing machine, use a bathroom with flushing toilets and adequate lighting, and charge up our cell phones.)
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