In direct contrast to my petition for Auckland, everything I had heard about Greymouth was true.
There is nothing to do in Greymouth.
Arriving in what appears to be something of a forgotten city (despite the fact that the Tranz Alpine Express leaves from here on a regular basis), it felt like stepping back in time. Even the McDonald’s wasn’t open 24 hours, which is always a worrying sign in this day and age. I had read, and even heard from family and friends, that Greymouth consisted of one main street and little else, with very few redeeming factors. As I have previously stated in my Auckland post, when I hear things like this it makes me even more determined to enjoy that particular place; to find the hidden gems that have apparently been lost on other people and prove that every cloud has a silver lining.
Walking the uninspiring streets to the hostel, I had almost given up hope. How could I find something memorable in what was reminiscent of an old English factory town stuck in the 1970s? Perusing the menus of the local eateries, my heart sank even further. Good food is everything to me, but the choices seemed very limited and unappetising. One less-than-delectable pizza later and I had a terrible feeling that Greymouth and I were not going to get along.
That was, until, I saw the sunset.