Description
It’s time for me to reveal the tensions of the New Zealand road trip, caught between local hostility and ecological fallout. A journey into the heart of a wild paradise saturated by tourism.
Hébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Transcription
It's time for me to reveal the tension of the New Zealand road trip, caught between local hostility and ecological fallout. A journey into the heart of wild paradise, saturated by tourism. Keep Your Wings Le Podcast. Chapter 9: A shitty situation.
Hey, hey, hey, what's up my bro?
As I had planned, my South Island road trip turned into a massive reunion with almost the entire Kiwi Farm crew. From town to town, I caught up with the people who had been my word for 3 months. A real bond that formed, and these reunions were the perfect chance to take our friendship to the next level. There were 8 of us in total, split across 4 cars. Only one of our vans was self-contained. In New Zealand lingo, that means a vehicle with an onboard chemical toilet, a sink, a freshwater tank and a greywater disposal system. Basically, you're independent. These vans are everywhere, but they coexist with normal vans like mine. The big difference is access to free campsite. There are far more spots for self-contained vehicles because cities believe they're more eco-friendly. Honestly, it feels like total hypocrisy. Almost all the campsite reserved for them are already equipped with toilets and taps. So why the obsession with the self-contained sticker? In Tremont, I never met a single owner who actually used their van's tiny toilet. This lack of space leads to absurd situations. In some towns, locals take turns patrolling the sites. They block the roads with their cars and only let a specific number of vans into the free lots. Some stay until 11 p.m. just to make sure no one sneaks in or breaks the rule. And if you didn't arrive by 4 p.m., you were out of luck. The competition was brutal. Unfortunately, that was just the beginning. The Sofa Island threw us some curveballs, not in terms of the landscape, which remained epic, but in terms of human relations. Van travelers aren't always welcome. We spent a few nights at a free site and noticed cars honking as they drove by during the day. Naively, we thought they were just saying hello. But when the honking continued at 3 a.m., the truth set in. After talking to other travelers, we found out that it was a coordinated effort between hotel owners, B&B hosts, and some locals. Frustrated that tourists aren't staying in their establishment, they tried to make them feel unwelcome by blasting their homes at all hours. It's a childish anti-traveler mentality that's shocking for a country where van life is supposed to be legendary. Some Kiwis even go out of their way to track and judge travelers. One friend went into a hostel with her toiletries and asked how much it would cost to just use the shower. The owner looked at her with pure condescension.
Are you a backpacker?
Yes, just want to know the price for a shower.
Oh, I'll give you a tip for free. There's a river right outside.
I know, but I was hoping for a real shower.
Well, our waters come from the river too. It's just hot. Now get out, please my establishment.
You would think a hostel manager would be used to that request, but the hostility was palpable. We felt it everywhere when we bought the cheapest groceries, filled our bottles at the park fountains or even just parked. One day a couple of elderly kiwi travelers gave us the dead stare because we parked near a dump station. We apologized but their disdain said everything. A few hours later as we were looking for a spot to sleep in a no camping zone, we found a nook hidden by trees. A motorhome was already there so we parked at the far end. Minutes later there was a loud aggressive knockout on my friend's window. It was the same couple.
You have no business being here The woman yelled. We are self-contained, you are not
We know the routes
My friend shot back.
We pack out our trash and I even have a shovel in my trunk to bury my business. Luxury story,
you're lying Her husband added.
Oh, you want to see it?
My friend snapped, grabbing the shovel from the bag.
Satisfied? You don't belong here,
you backpackers respect nothing They screamed before retreating into the motorhome.
And you shit everywhere
I didn't understand the level of fear they had until I went for a walk in the nearby forest towards a beautiful waterfall. There, I found human waste, unburied, wrapped in toilet paper. The problem was sadly real. This fear from the locals comes from the explosion of tourism, meeting a total lack of infrastructure. Most public toilets are aging, poorly maintained, and incapable of handling the flood of visitors. Some are locked at night, forcing tourists to shit into the woods. When many travelers are careful, others are reckless, shitting near waterways or throwing sanitary pads into the bush, it's irresponsible and frankly disgusting. It's a crisis caused by both sides, a government that provides zero facility, and selfish travelers who treat the forest like a toilet. Environmental protection is New Zealand's big mission, but the methods are questionable. The country is obsessed with Pass Free 2050. In national parks, you will see traps everywhere. The DOC runs massive eradication campaigns against invasive species like possum. That I can understand, but the massive use of 1080 poison is another story. New Zealand is the largest buyer of 1080 in the world, using over 80% of the global production. It's cheap and easy to use, they drop it from planes to kill possum, rats and stoats. The ethical problem? It's a slow, agonizing death involving spasm and suffocation. And because it's dropped from the air, it- puts native reptiles, birds and fish at risk too. Many Kiwis are fiercely opposed to it. You'll see no 1080 sign on houses and in shop windows everywhere. Saving the environment by poisoning it feels like a dark contradiction. And the contradictions don't stop here. The Great Walks, the nine most iconic treks, are incredibly expensive for foreigners. Double the price. They claim it's to regulate numbers and preserve nature. Yet, every 30 minutes you hear the roars of helicopters taking tourists on scenic flight over the melting glacier. Business, it seems, always wins.
Description
It’s time for me to reveal the tensions of the New Zealand road trip, caught between local hostility and ecological fallout. A journey into the heart of a wild paradise saturated by tourism.
Hébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Transcription
It's time for me to reveal the tension of the New Zealand road trip, caught between local hostility and ecological fallout. A journey into the heart of wild paradise, saturated by tourism. Keep Your Wings Le Podcast. Chapter 9: A shitty situation.
Hey, hey, hey, what's up my bro?
As I had planned, my South Island road trip turned into a massive reunion with almost the entire Kiwi Farm crew. From town to town, I caught up with the people who had been my word for 3 months. A real bond that formed, and these reunions were the perfect chance to take our friendship to the next level. There were 8 of us in total, split across 4 cars. Only one of our vans was self-contained. In New Zealand lingo, that means a vehicle with an onboard chemical toilet, a sink, a freshwater tank and a greywater disposal system. Basically, you're independent. These vans are everywhere, but they coexist with normal vans like mine. The big difference is access to free campsite. There are far more spots for self-contained vehicles because cities believe they're more eco-friendly. Honestly, it feels like total hypocrisy. Almost all the campsite reserved for them are already equipped with toilets and taps. So why the obsession with the self-contained sticker? In Tremont, I never met a single owner who actually used their van's tiny toilet. This lack of space leads to absurd situations. In some towns, locals take turns patrolling the sites. They block the roads with their cars and only let a specific number of vans into the free lots. Some stay until 11 p.m. just to make sure no one sneaks in or breaks the rule. And if you didn't arrive by 4 p.m., you were out of luck. The competition was brutal. Unfortunately, that was just the beginning. The Sofa Island threw us some curveballs, not in terms of the landscape, which remained epic, but in terms of human relations. Van travelers aren't always welcome. We spent a few nights at a free site and noticed cars honking as they drove by during the day. Naively, we thought they were just saying hello. But when the honking continued at 3 a.m., the truth set in. After talking to other travelers, we found out that it was a coordinated effort between hotel owners, B&B hosts, and some locals. Frustrated that tourists aren't staying in their establishment, they tried to make them feel unwelcome by blasting their homes at all hours. It's a childish anti-traveler mentality that's shocking for a country where van life is supposed to be legendary. Some Kiwis even go out of their way to track and judge travelers. One friend went into a hostel with her toiletries and asked how much it would cost to just use the shower. The owner looked at her with pure condescension.
Are you a backpacker?
Yes, just want to know the price for a shower.
Oh, I'll give you a tip for free. There's a river right outside.
I know, but I was hoping for a real shower.
Well, our waters come from the river too. It's just hot. Now get out, please my establishment.
You would think a hostel manager would be used to that request, but the hostility was palpable. We felt it everywhere when we bought the cheapest groceries, filled our bottles at the park fountains or even just parked. One day a couple of elderly kiwi travelers gave us the dead stare because we parked near a dump station. We apologized but their disdain said everything. A few hours later as we were looking for a spot to sleep in a no camping zone, we found a nook hidden by trees. A motorhome was already there so we parked at the far end. Minutes later there was a loud aggressive knockout on my friend's window. It was the same couple.
You have no business being here The woman yelled. We are self-contained, you are not
We know the routes
My friend shot back.
We pack out our trash and I even have a shovel in my trunk to bury my business. Luxury story,
you're lying Her husband added.
Oh, you want to see it?
My friend snapped, grabbing the shovel from the bag.
Satisfied? You don't belong here,
you backpackers respect nothing They screamed before retreating into the motorhome.
And you shit everywhere
I didn't understand the level of fear they had until I went for a walk in the nearby forest towards a beautiful waterfall. There, I found human waste, unburied, wrapped in toilet paper. The problem was sadly real. This fear from the locals comes from the explosion of tourism, meeting a total lack of infrastructure. Most public toilets are aging, poorly maintained, and incapable of handling the flood of visitors. Some are locked at night, forcing tourists to shit into the woods. When many travelers are careful, others are reckless, shitting near waterways or throwing sanitary pads into the bush, it's irresponsible and frankly disgusting. It's a crisis caused by both sides, a government that provides zero facility, and selfish travelers who treat the forest like a toilet. Environmental protection is New Zealand's big mission, but the methods are questionable. The country is obsessed with Pass Free 2050. In national parks, you will see traps everywhere. The DOC runs massive eradication campaigns against invasive species like possum. That I can understand, but the massive use of 1080 poison is another story. New Zealand is the largest buyer of 1080 in the world, using over 80% of the global production. It's cheap and easy to use, they drop it from planes to kill possum, rats and stoats. The ethical problem? It's a slow, agonizing death involving spasm and suffocation. And because it's dropped from the air, it- puts native reptiles, birds and fish at risk too. Many Kiwis are fiercely opposed to it. You'll see no 1080 sign on houses and in shop windows everywhere. Saving the environment by poisoning it feels like a dark contradiction. And the contradictions don't stop here. The Great Walks, the nine most iconic treks, are incredibly expensive for foreigners. Double the price. They claim it's to regulate numbers and preserve nature. Yet, every 30 minutes you hear the roars of helicopters taking tourists on scenic flight over the melting glacier. Business, it seems, always wins.
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Description
It’s time for me to reveal the tensions of the New Zealand road trip, caught between local hostility and ecological fallout. A journey into the heart of a wild paradise saturated by tourism.
Hébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Transcription
It's time for me to reveal the tension of the New Zealand road trip, caught between local hostility and ecological fallout. A journey into the heart of wild paradise, saturated by tourism. Keep Your Wings Le Podcast. Chapter 9: A shitty situation.
Hey, hey, hey, what's up my bro?
As I had planned, my South Island road trip turned into a massive reunion with almost the entire Kiwi Farm crew. From town to town, I caught up with the people who had been my word for 3 months. A real bond that formed, and these reunions were the perfect chance to take our friendship to the next level. There were 8 of us in total, split across 4 cars. Only one of our vans was self-contained. In New Zealand lingo, that means a vehicle with an onboard chemical toilet, a sink, a freshwater tank and a greywater disposal system. Basically, you're independent. These vans are everywhere, but they coexist with normal vans like mine. The big difference is access to free campsite. There are far more spots for self-contained vehicles because cities believe they're more eco-friendly. Honestly, it feels like total hypocrisy. Almost all the campsite reserved for them are already equipped with toilets and taps. So why the obsession with the self-contained sticker? In Tremont, I never met a single owner who actually used their van's tiny toilet. This lack of space leads to absurd situations. In some towns, locals take turns patrolling the sites. They block the roads with their cars and only let a specific number of vans into the free lots. Some stay until 11 p.m. just to make sure no one sneaks in or breaks the rule. And if you didn't arrive by 4 p.m., you were out of luck. The competition was brutal. Unfortunately, that was just the beginning. The Sofa Island threw us some curveballs, not in terms of the landscape, which remained epic, but in terms of human relations. Van travelers aren't always welcome. We spent a few nights at a free site and noticed cars honking as they drove by during the day. Naively, we thought they were just saying hello. But when the honking continued at 3 a.m., the truth set in. After talking to other travelers, we found out that it was a coordinated effort between hotel owners, B&B hosts, and some locals. Frustrated that tourists aren't staying in their establishment, they tried to make them feel unwelcome by blasting their homes at all hours. It's a childish anti-traveler mentality that's shocking for a country where van life is supposed to be legendary. Some Kiwis even go out of their way to track and judge travelers. One friend went into a hostel with her toiletries and asked how much it would cost to just use the shower. The owner looked at her with pure condescension.
Are you a backpacker?
Yes, just want to know the price for a shower.
Oh, I'll give you a tip for free. There's a river right outside.
I know, but I was hoping for a real shower.
Well, our waters come from the river too. It's just hot. Now get out, please my establishment.
You would think a hostel manager would be used to that request, but the hostility was palpable. We felt it everywhere when we bought the cheapest groceries, filled our bottles at the park fountains or even just parked. One day a couple of elderly kiwi travelers gave us the dead stare because we parked near a dump station. We apologized but their disdain said everything. A few hours later as we were looking for a spot to sleep in a no camping zone, we found a nook hidden by trees. A motorhome was already there so we parked at the far end. Minutes later there was a loud aggressive knockout on my friend's window. It was the same couple.
You have no business being here The woman yelled. We are self-contained, you are not
We know the routes
My friend shot back.
We pack out our trash and I even have a shovel in my trunk to bury my business. Luxury story,
you're lying Her husband added.
Oh, you want to see it?
My friend snapped, grabbing the shovel from the bag.
Satisfied? You don't belong here,
you backpackers respect nothing They screamed before retreating into the motorhome.
And you shit everywhere
I didn't understand the level of fear they had until I went for a walk in the nearby forest towards a beautiful waterfall. There, I found human waste, unburied, wrapped in toilet paper. The problem was sadly real. This fear from the locals comes from the explosion of tourism, meeting a total lack of infrastructure. Most public toilets are aging, poorly maintained, and incapable of handling the flood of visitors. Some are locked at night, forcing tourists to shit into the woods. When many travelers are careful, others are reckless, shitting near waterways or throwing sanitary pads into the bush, it's irresponsible and frankly disgusting. It's a crisis caused by both sides, a government that provides zero facility, and selfish travelers who treat the forest like a toilet. Environmental protection is New Zealand's big mission, but the methods are questionable. The country is obsessed with Pass Free 2050. In national parks, you will see traps everywhere. The DOC runs massive eradication campaigns against invasive species like possum. That I can understand, but the massive use of 1080 poison is another story. New Zealand is the largest buyer of 1080 in the world, using over 80% of the global production. It's cheap and easy to use, they drop it from planes to kill possum, rats and stoats. The ethical problem? It's a slow, agonizing death involving spasm and suffocation. And because it's dropped from the air, it- puts native reptiles, birds and fish at risk too. Many Kiwis are fiercely opposed to it. You'll see no 1080 sign on houses and in shop windows everywhere. Saving the environment by poisoning it feels like a dark contradiction. And the contradictions don't stop here. The Great Walks, the nine most iconic treks, are incredibly expensive for foreigners. Double the price. They claim it's to regulate numbers and preserve nature. Yet, every 30 minutes you hear the roars of helicopters taking tourists on scenic flight over the melting glacier. Business, it seems, always wins.
Description
It’s time for me to reveal the tensions of the New Zealand road trip, caught between local hostility and ecological fallout. A journey into the heart of a wild paradise saturated by tourism.
Hébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Transcription
It's time for me to reveal the tension of the New Zealand road trip, caught between local hostility and ecological fallout. A journey into the heart of wild paradise, saturated by tourism. Keep Your Wings Le Podcast. Chapter 9: A shitty situation.
Hey, hey, hey, what's up my bro?
As I had planned, my South Island road trip turned into a massive reunion with almost the entire Kiwi Farm crew. From town to town, I caught up with the people who had been my word for 3 months. A real bond that formed, and these reunions were the perfect chance to take our friendship to the next level. There were 8 of us in total, split across 4 cars. Only one of our vans was self-contained. In New Zealand lingo, that means a vehicle with an onboard chemical toilet, a sink, a freshwater tank and a greywater disposal system. Basically, you're independent. These vans are everywhere, but they coexist with normal vans like mine. The big difference is access to free campsite. There are far more spots for self-contained vehicles because cities believe they're more eco-friendly. Honestly, it feels like total hypocrisy. Almost all the campsite reserved for them are already equipped with toilets and taps. So why the obsession with the self-contained sticker? In Tremont, I never met a single owner who actually used their van's tiny toilet. This lack of space leads to absurd situations. In some towns, locals take turns patrolling the sites. They block the roads with their cars and only let a specific number of vans into the free lots. Some stay until 11 p.m. just to make sure no one sneaks in or breaks the rule. And if you didn't arrive by 4 p.m., you were out of luck. The competition was brutal. Unfortunately, that was just the beginning. The Sofa Island threw us some curveballs, not in terms of the landscape, which remained epic, but in terms of human relations. Van travelers aren't always welcome. We spent a few nights at a free site and noticed cars honking as they drove by during the day. Naively, we thought they were just saying hello. But when the honking continued at 3 a.m., the truth set in. After talking to other travelers, we found out that it was a coordinated effort between hotel owners, B&B hosts, and some locals. Frustrated that tourists aren't staying in their establishment, they tried to make them feel unwelcome by blasting their homes at all hours. It's a childish anti-traveler mentality that's shocking for a country where van life is supposed to be legendary. Some Kiwis even go out of their way to track and judge travelers. One friend went into a hostel with her toiletries and asked how much it would cost to just use the shower. The owner looked at her with pure condescension.
Are you a backpacker?
Yes, just want to know the price for a shower.
Oh, I'll give you a tip for free. There's a river right outside.
I know, but I was hoping for a real shower.
Well, our waters come from the river too. It's just hot. Now get out, please my establishment.
You would think a hostel manager would be used to that request, but the hostility was palpable. We felt it everywhere when we bought the cheapest groceries, filled our bottles at the park fountains or even just parked. One day a couple of elderly kiwi travelers gave us the dead stare because we parked near a dump station. We apologized but their disdain said everything. A few hours later as we were looking for a spot to sleep in a no camping zone, we found a nook hidden by trees. A motorhome was already there so we parked at the far end. Minutes later there was a loud aggressive knockout on my friend's window. It was the same couple.
You have no business being here The woman yelled. We are self-contained, you are not
We know the routes
My friend shot back.
We pack out our trash and I even have a shovel in my trunk to bury my business. Luxury story,
you're lying Her husband added.
Oh, you want to see it?
My friend snapped, grabbing the shovel from the bag.
Satisfied? You don't belong here,
you backpackers respect nothing They screamed before retreating into the motorhome.
And you shit everywhere
I didn't understand the level of fear they had until I went for a walk in the nearby forest towards a beautiful waterfall. There, I found human waste, unburied, wrapped in toilet paper. The problem was sadly real. This fear from the locals comes from the explosion of tourism, meeting a total lack of infrastructure. Most public toilets are aging, poorly maintained, and incapable of handling the flood of visitors. Some are locked at night, forcing tourists to shit into the woods. When many travelers are careful, others are reckless, shitting near waterways or throwing sanitary pads into the bush, it's irresponsible and frankly disgusting. It's a crisis caused by both sides, a government that provides zero facility, and selfish travelers who treat the forest like a toilet. Environmental protection is New Zealand's big mission, but the methods are questionable. The country is obsessed with Pass Free 2050. In national parks, you will see traps everywhere. The DOC runs massive eradication campaigns against invasive species like possum. That I can understand, but the massive use of 1080 poison is another story. New Zealand is the largest buyer of 1080 in the world, using over 80% of the global production. It's cheap and easy to use, they drop it from planes to kill possum, rats and stoats. The ethical problem? It's a slow, agonizing death involving spasm and suffocation. And because it's dropped from the air, it- puts native reptiles, birds and fish at risk too. Many Kiwis are fiercely opposed to it. You'll see no 1080 sign on houses and in shop windows everywhere. Saving the environment by poisoning it feels like a dark contradiction. And the contradictions don't stop here. The Great Walks, the nine most iconic treks, are incredibly expensive for foreigners. Double the price. They claim it's to regulate numbers and preserve nature. Yet, every 30 minutes you hear the roars of helicopters taking tourists on scenic flight over the melting glacier. Business, it seems, always wins.
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