Driving Me Mad (Nelson, Sun City, New Zealand)

Hello, dear reader. Just a quick post for today.

The night progressed in a similar fashion to the previous one, which provided the title Driving Me Mad, by Neil Finn from One Nil, 2001.  Door slamming and people coming and going between the hours of 2 and 4am. I don't know what is going on and I really don't care. Just do it quietly. I am hoping that there will be a change of tenant now the weekend is over. Only time will tell. In terms of retribution, I invoke the great Maxwell Q Klinger from the brilliant TV series MASH 4077, "May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your armpits". No, not you dear reader, the person next door and her late night friends, one of whom was evicted around 3:30am. He walked away, slump-shouldered and despondent, casting the occasional sad-eyed look back over his shoulder. I guess he'll just have to take the matter in hand.

Strict entry requirements. Anti-vaxxers welcome.

With an east facing window, sleep beyond dawn is not easy, even with heavy curtains. Fortunately the sun rises late down here in the south. Dawn came with a little cloud that soon burned off. Given we appear to be surrounded by churches of varying Christian denominations, we fully expected to be awakened by the peal of bells summoning the faithful to worship. Not a chime was heard until just before 10am - all the way from the Cathedral on the hill. Once ready for the day, we headed to the Monty Markets. These were held in the same space as yesterday's markets but were billed as a "mecca for treasure hunters of pre-loved clothing, recycled tools, books, antiques ... ". The hyperbole goes on for quite a while. Unlike the market which was a glorified car-boot sale. It was very small and held precious little of any interest.

Yes, it's a flower, in the Cathedral garden. That's all I have.

After the excitement of the markets, we walked to the Cathedral as the 10am service was nearing completion. The Cathedral has a story to tell, but to piece it together you had to circumnavigate the block on which it stands and read the information supplied at specific points. And I don't really care that much. I just wanted to know what happened to the old building and why the new one is so, well, ugly. Ok, brutalist, if you like, but it pre-dates that architectural movement  by a couple of decades.

The view from on high. The Cathedral to debauchery, well the pub.

Apparently an earthquake rendered the original Cathedral unsafe. The new one, of 1925 dark stone construction, also contains an earthquake warning inside noting it's lack of safety. They could have saved a lot of money and stayed with the original timber version.

There's a lot at stake here. Ask a surveyor.

The interior is testimony to the old and new. Stylistically it's all columns and stained glass windows with modern tweaks here and there. It is an interesting juxtaposition.

Traditional columns and vaulted ceiling with a neon backlit cross.

So, I went to church today. Ok. I went into a church today. The experience was almost too much for me and I required coffee to regain my balanced perspective on the world. And a friand. There is not much open in Nelson on a Sunday, Cathedral excepted. Very few cafés, curiously clothing stores and not much else. Even the markets were a dud.

I just love a stained glass window.

In our meandering this morning, we discovered more street art. I know, it's a real Kiwi thing. Unlike Christchurch, the Nelson Art Walk has a specific focus. Unlike Dunedin, the walls are not adorned with original works but copies, often framed copies of original works that depict life in Nelson in some way. The other commonality is that they all seem to have been on display at a particular gallery in Nelson at some time. That is, if the work is a part of the 'Art Walk' there is plenty of more organic art works on the street, some of which featured in earlier posts. It's important to make the distinction between those unauthorised pieces of art, some of which are quite substantial, and the approved Art Walk inclusions.

With god seeing everything you do, is a surveillance camera necessary?
Is that a flying Barbie style witch?

While it was interesting to track the 28 works and read each artist's bio and the context statement for the work, it lacked the impact of the street art in Dunedin and even Christchurch. It was a pleasant walk on a beautiful day and we managed to find 24 of the works. Some of which we have deemed worthy of inclusion in the blog.

Don't let a street sign get in the way of the street art exhibition.

This was meant to encourage the English to move to Nelson. I don't know why.

A  more modern depiction of life in Nelson.

Genuinely an amazing painting although the photo doesn't capture it.

Our attempt at being cultured exhausted us. It was time to rest and have a beer. But first some street-scape excitement. A young girl (well, that's a relative term when you're my age), in her 20's runs across the street, in front of traffic (Ok, a car), chasing a similarly aged long haired, bearded boy shouting, "Give me my keys!" repeatedly. They were together and had been arguing. I saw them earlier on our culture walk. He tried to speak to her and she did the arms folded thing, turned her back, and said, "Don't speak to me." Other bystanders had not witnessed the prelude and all these young men ran to the nearest phone booth, tore off their clothes are re-appeared as Supermen, circling the miscreant key-thief and, we assume, called the police. Chivalry is not dead in New Zealand. Or is it sexism? Discuss.

Anyway, the two supermen, one of whom shed his flip-flops in the chase, had the matter in hand so we walked to The Vic for a beer. Too much excitement for this old heart.

We are now back at the hotel blogging and researching the potential stops for tomorrow's journey to Kaikoura. Oh, alright, we are also drinking wine. Well, my tastebuds are back.

As I have remarked on many occasions, dear reader, "comparisons are odious" (Michael Gow, Away) but difficult not to make in our current circumstance. We stayed at the Quest in Invercargill and could not recommend them highly enough. They weren't faultless but they did they everything they could and everything asked of them. This afternoon (Sunday) we arrived back at the hotel to find the room hadn't been serviced because ... it's Sunday. Then there have been the noise issues and the dudes on the desk are performing at perfunctory level at best. Quest Nelson? Never again.

As the sun sets over another beautiful day in Sun City, we walked to the 'centre of town'. Well it is on Sunday afternoon, the Trafalgar Street and Selwyn Place intersection. There are many places still not open, but The Vic does beer and pub food and Lombardis Italian Restaurant opens at 4:30pm - even on Sunday. The bonus here? The food, wine and service is excellent. Best 'authentic' pizza I've had since Christchurch.

Tomorrow is a transit day from Nelson to Kaikoura.

Until next time ...

Last to Know (Tekapo to Greymouth)

As you will understand, there were reasons there are no photographs to document this leg of the trip. The rain certainly played its role and then there was my reasoning of not wanting to leave a clear road and placing myself in an endless queue of cars that will not overtake slower moving vehicles. As a result, the photos are mostly flowers to brighten the day - and believe me, here in Greymouth, we need brightening.

Overnight the wind picked up and brought with it rain. As we left Tekapo, the clouds were clearing and the sun was shining again. It was a five hour drive to Greymouth on the west coast although there are planned stops. The first of these was Fairlie to sample the pies at the renown Fairlie Bakehouse. Just outside of Fairlie, we saw our first wallaby. No need to report this one to the authorities, it looked like it had met the All Black pack, it was roadkill.

Christchurch Botanic Garden

As was expected, the pies were very good. Not as good as my Christchurch pie, but very good. Lovely pastry, good amount of filling, but could be improved by a little less filling, more gravy and a bit of pepper. Everything was progressing well and then the coffee arrived. Despite sitting in the bakery we were served coffee in a take-away cup with a lid. Now dear reader, you know I'm a coffee snob, but to serve coffee in a paper cup to inhouse guests is ridiculous. Take-away cups do nothing to enhance the flavour of coffee although little would have helped this cup of airline dishwater.

Timaru rose garden.

New Zealand can be a curious place to outsiders. Their naming conventions are a cross between honouring the 'old world' and/or the Maori with the downright bogan. Who names a mountain range Darren? Or a township Geraldine? It's not like they are royalty. Imagine the looks of concern when your host says, "yeah, we'll just slip into Geraldine together and then mount Darren, eh, awesome". Sadly I just discovered that it is the Darran Range, but there is a Mount Christina. Not sure how she feels about that.

Seeding grass in Dunedin.

Another discovery is that food and wine are expensive. Now I can live without one, but not the other; you decide which one. Trying to support their local wine industry has often meant paying $40 for a bottle when I could have purchased less expensive wine from other countries, like Australia. When you're travelling and staying in accommodation with only rudimentary cooking facilities (if at all) you are at the mercy of the restaurant trade. While we have had some excellent meals, $50 for a main course is a tad pricey. Even the pub, (sorry - gastropub) prices are top end. For instance, wine is not at bottle shop prices but more in line with restaurants.

The greenhouse Olveston House, Dunedin.

Although Jayne sits with the map on her lap, responsibility for navigation has been ceded to Declan (our Irish-voiced Apple Maps guide). In an attempt to find the fastest route, Declan has taken us off grid, down gravel roads, through farmland complete with cattle grids (or cattle stops as they are known here) on the road and warnings only to attempt the drive in fair weather. In doing this en route to Greymouth, we missed our planned break at Sheffield because Declan decided we shouldn't visit. Eventually we found our way back to the main road, or Declan did, but we were the last to know. Hence today's title from Neil Finn's 2001 solo album One Nil. I think it is fair to say that, under Declan's guidance, we have been down roads that most Kiwis have never dared to go...

Olveston House garden.

The road wound on, and I mean wound on. Through mountain passes and valleys, the weather deteriorated and at times we were driving through torrential rain. There were magnificent waterfalls, so Jayne tells me, I was watching the road. One waterfall was actually cantilevered across the road through a concrete chute so the water cascaded onto the other side of the road. This was followed by a rockfall suppression tunnel. Confidence building. I'm sure the drive was spectacular, but it was also taxing and tiring The numerous weka (maori woodhen, aa type of rail) we saw roadside were having more fun than me.

Fungus in The Catlins.

As we arrived in Greymouth, a coastal town, it was difficult to discern between the curtain of rain and the ocean. It was fittingly grey. The usual salt smell that lingers in beach towns was also lacking. I'm looking forward to exploring the area tomorrow, weather permitting. At the moment the weather app is suggesting we'll be indoors all day. Rain, rain, storms. Promising.

The garden at Lakefront Lodge, Te Anau.

The rain and thunder were my alarm clock today, at 4:45am. While it's a nice change to be able to hear the rain, I would have been happier if it waited until a more civilised time to intrude on my sleep. And it continues still, alternating with rolling thunder that echoes across the mountain that is a backdrop to this sprawling town. The main road into Greymouth is, I assume, holiday style homes on the beachfront on the outskirts. This gives way to motel style accommodation and then as you get closer to town a jumbled mixture of industrial, commercial, residential and light industrial. Whether this is due to development following the railway line, which runs through the centre of town, or the river, I am uncertain.

Memorial to miners lost.

Names covered three sides of the memorial.

There was sufficient break in the rain for us to drive into the town centre. This would normally have been a walk for us, but the rain, when it comes, is generally very heavy. There are not many landmarks to visit but the obvious one is the flood wall. Today with the brown river roiling past at great speed, the level of the water is not that far below street level. Without the flood wall, Greymouth would have been washed out to sea many years ago.

Looking to the mountains.

Out to the ocean.

The river was moving at an amazing pace to the extent where it created a swell as it moved over the riverbed. From our vantage point its swell appeared to be moving in the opposite direction to the water. I can't fathom how that is possible, but that is certainly what we thought we could see.

Not wishing to tempt the weather gods, we made haste for a coffee shop after the walk on the flood wall. Robert Harris café came recommended and did not disappoint. We sat out the front of the shop, Paris-style and enjoyed our coffee and crumble under the shelter of the awning. Despite the appalling weather, it isn't cold. The locals tell us they need the rain, something we are finding difficult to reconcile because everything we've read and out-of-towners we've spoken to say it always rains in Greymouth.

Streetscape.

I haven't been able to determine how tall the hills/mountains are behind the town because the cloud hasn't cleared for long enough. What is certain is that many of the buildings need some TLC and could do with a coat of paint. Much of the town looks old and tired, almost as if it is beyond fighting the weather and is about to give in to mother nature.

They love their cricket here in Greymouth.

Street art showing a decaying building.

After a brief stop at Liquorland to stock up for the afternoon, we returned to our unit and continued to watch the rain.

Today's random observation: New Zealand drivers are very polite and careful on the road, sometimes too reticent, and yet drive like hoons in a car park. The car in front of me at the roundabout today waited until there were no cars on the roundabout or in proximity before proceeding. Then as they reached car park sped off at a rate that cold easily endanger pedestrians. 

That is about it for Greymouth. Tonight we are dining at the 'gastropub' directly across the road so hopefully we won't get too wet getting there. It is rated the number two restaurant on Tripadvisor. Doesn't that say a lot about dining in this town? Should there be anything of interest to report I'll get back to you, like maybe they sell wine at bottle shop prices, or their mains are under $40. Tell him he's dreaming.

Ok, so I'm back, post dinner. Surprise, surprise, surprise, as Gomer Pyle used to say (google it kids). The wine was at pub prices, well almost, but not restaurant prices, which was fair because the food wasn't restaurant standard. This was the description of my main: THAI STYLED GARLIC INFUSED PRAWNS, SERVED ON TOP OF JASMINE RICE OR CAULIFLOWER RICE. TOPPED WITH A CRUNCHY PAPPADUM. AVAILABLE MILD, MEDIUM OR HOT. Sorry, I did a cut and paste, they are yelling not me. I so really wish I had photographed the dish. I opted for the jasmine rice. In the bowl it was presented thus: the usual mould of rice topped with some shoe-stringed vegetables (why? not the prawns as advertised), next to it a papadum (here spelled correctly, but NOT crunchy), and six prawns. I said medium to hot was fine. How about six prawns drowning in a cup of ... you know, I have no idea, some sweet cream, yellow curry style thing. As for the heat level, LOL, medium to hot? How about sweet to tasteless? Would not recommend.

Once, in Ireland, someone said to me that Dublin was best viewed through a rear view mirror (I like Dublin). Now I feel that epithet belongs to Greymouth. Happy to say goodbye. Won't be back.

Tomorrow we continue our trek further north in search of Nelson and fine weather. Thee rain continues here.

Until next time ...