The world's steepest street and rarest penguin

Feeling fully initiated into Kiwi culture after Orepuki, we trundled further south to Bluff (and it is a bluff, mascarading as the southern most point of NZ) and then to the true, most southerly tip of NZ, Slope Point.

Contrary to previous blog posts, we are not addicted to visiting the furthest extremities of countries, but there was something very appealing about knowing that the next large mass of land from where we stood was the Antarctic.

It was a 20 minute walk across farmland to a stubby beacon, and an even stubbier signpost (for our compulsory photograph), where we stood atop a windswept spur of rock with views up and down the wild coast. This also marked the sight of the most southern land Med and I have ever stepped foot on - maybe we should erect our own sign too.

We were now in the Catlins territory - a combination of lush farmland, thick, native forests and lonely, rugged bays. The sunshine soon disappeared, leaving us in the face of a grey, whipping Antarctic southerly, biting at my fingers and "jandal" (the Kiwi word for flip flops)-exposed toes.

Layering up in hoodies and jeans, grateful we had lugged them around in our backpacks all this time, we watched furl seals and sea lions laze along the coastline and walked through rich, damp forests, spotting red and white-spotted toadstools straight out of a storybook.

The sun did eventually come out when we reached Curio Bay, where fossilised, Jurassic-aged trees are visible at low tide. We got a close look at the solid, petrified wood and then, to our surprise, three of the world's rarest penguins.

The yellow-eyed penguins usually only come out at sunset, but there they were, drying themselves off in the midday sun. We watched as one of them waddled his way towards the water, across the petrified forest, and launched himself into the sea to chase after supper.

Hot on the heels of the world's rarest penguin, we then visited Dunedin (the name comes from Dùn Èideann - the Scottish Gaelic name for Edinburgh - and it's trying with all it's might to be just like it) to walk up the world's steepest street: Barlow Street. It was very steep. I'm sure the residents have killer calf muscles.

In a week of the unique and downright unusual, we went to gawp at the Moeraki Boulders - a group of unusually large and spherical stone balls lying along a stretch of Koekohe Beach on the wave cut Otago coast.

According to the sign, the Moeraki Boulders are concretions created by the cementation of mudstone, from which they have been exhumed by coastal erosion. So in lay-mans terms (or rather, how Med explained it to me), they are giant, rock pearls, popped out onto the beach because the sea has worn away the cliffs.

As we moved inland again, we rediscovered the cloud-less blue of the Kiwi summer sky. Eating sultana porridge out of a pan on the morning shore of Lake Tekapo has to beat breakfast even in the finest of hotels.

Under a canopy of sunshine and clear skies, Lake Tekapo is the most astonishing blue colour I have ever seen. The glacial flour from the rocks make it look so clear and inviting, perfectly reflecting the the huge hills and snowy peaks surrounding it.

We walked up a steep, alpine track to the summit of Mount John for a 360 view of the landscape below. Mount Cook and Mount Tasman casually peep over the top of the mountains in the forefront on one side, and the many lakes are blisteringly bright in the midday sun.

New Zealand is endlessly beautiful.