Weather with you (Christchurch, New Zealand)

Although we were more than happy with last night's meal, we had hoped to dine on the Tramway Restaurant. It was booked out both nights. Maybe next time.

The morning crept in as it did yesterday, grey and cold with a low rain clouds coming down from the hills above the city. That set the tone for the day, despite the more hopeful weather forecast. No doubt that was later revised to: rain. It certainly was "stormy weather" although it wasn't at "57 Mt Pleasant Street" as Crowded House sang back in 1991, it was all over Christchurch. Like the street art works.

There were so many to choose from ...

Breakfast was back at Riverside Market, and, en route, we dropped into Macpac to purchase a second umbrella. For obvious reasons. Today we sampled "the world's best damn toastie". I had a New Yorker with roast beef, relish, a pickle and assorted cheddar. Jayne selected the Dutch, which had ham and mustard but also pineapple, that well known Dutch crop. Anyway, as she did in Amsterdam, Jayne asked for the pineapple to left off the sandwich. 'World's best' is a big claim and they were good, but I've had better. You should never talk yourself up to the point where disappointment is always a possibility. Tomorrow, I'm going after the "world's best pie".

The Cathedral. Also the view from our window.

No time for coffee this morning as we scarpered back to the hotel to collect the backpack and head towards the botanic gardens to join a walking tour of the city. I tried, unsuccessfully, to book online yesterday, but it wouldn't accept my credit card for payment. Milton, our guide, had heard this story before and expressed his dissatisfaction with whatever booking company they use. Walk Christchurch is staffed by volunteers and much of the money raised is put back into the post-2011 quake restoration program of significant buildings, like the Arts Centre, formerly the University of Canterbury.

The tourist trams.

The drizzle/rain was still intermittent and I had yet to resort to a jumper or to my newly purchased umbrella. Although that would change throughout the course of our walk.

The Cathedral (in the background) is the centre of the city.

Christchurch is a young city (reputedly the most English city outside of England [not that that is anything to be proud of]- they like superlatives here) and evidence of its varying phases of growth is visible everywhere. There are original weatherboard houses, traditional blue stone buildings that have been repurposed, buildings from other periods that have been rebuilt and strengthened after the devastation of 2011 or buildings that have replaced those that were not able to be saved. It is a testament to the resilience of the people.

The Dance-O-Mat venue.

There are artworks/murals, statues and sculptures at every turn. I'm sure not all are sanctioned by the powers that be, but they add to the general feeling of the city. From the Dance-O-Mat on a vacant block, (there to assist people with PTSD. No, dear reader, I'm not sure how spending $2 on a loud outdoor disco machine helps any mental illness, let alone PTSD, but there you have it. For those of you wondering whether I tested it out or not ... I did not), to the beautiful murals on blank walls bordering car parks, to random sculptures. Christchurch is a beautiful and clean city. Even in the persistent rain.

The stained glass window in the Great Hall of the former University building.

Milton, our local guide, provided a commentary on the tour which was an effective blend of history and personal experience. He didn't over-dwell on the quake but pointed out its architectural impact when it was relevant. Later in the tour, he provided his personal experience of February 22, 2011, as well as a brief reference to the other more recent tragedy of the Christchurch Muslim massacres. We visited buildings of historical import that have been/are being saved (at astronomical cost) as well as new buildings that signify an optimistic outlook to a rejuvenated phoenix-like future.

A sculpture by Antony Gormley.

Amazingly, since the quake, due to the liquefaction issues (look it up - we had never heard the term before either), the land occupation area of Christchurch has been more than halved. There are large tracts of previously suburban sprawl that cannot be rebuilt and have been razed to the ground and left vacant as open spaces for recreational use. Some of the inner city areas that were previously occupied by now demolished office blocks, are now being redeveloped into apartment complexes to lure residents into the city away from now uninhabitable suburbia.

We also visited the quake memorial on the River Avon, (river, lol, it would rate as fast flowing creek in Australia) replete with many floral tributes laid at yesterday's anniversary ceremony. Tomorrow, before we depart, we will go to the other quake memorial, known as 185 chairs, one chair for each of the people who died in the quake. This is not the official city memorial but is maintained by local groups to uniquely remember and represent each person.

The riverside memorial.

Our walking loop completed, we sadly parted from the annoying female traveller who:

• arrived after the 10:30 am commencement time, despite staying across the road from the meeting point,
• turned up for a cash only tour without any cash and had to be helped to find an ATM along the route so she could pay,
• proceeded to bail up the apprentice tour guide at every stop to loudly discuss her life and his, in competition with the guide who was actually conducting the tour,
• ignored the directive of the guide not to purchase food in the markets and then made the rest of the group wait till he went back to retrieve her, and
• repeatedly asked for information to be repeated so she could write it on her map of Christchurch.

Yes, yes, dear reader, I know you're speculating on the nationality of said traveller. Well, she was not a colonial. It was someone from the race of colonisers that has destroyed so much of the world. Unless of course you are a part of the colonisers. She was an English woman. Totally focussed on herself. A Karen, in the language of our children, a white, middle-aged, entitled cow who could not or would not see beyond her own concerns.

Apart from this individual, the local guide walking tour continues to prove itself to us to be the best way to experience cities around the world. The tour ended where it had commenced, near the Botanic Garden.

Begonias in the Botanic Garden.

We decided to revisit one tour stop which was the New Regent Street, another big claim as 'the most beautiful street in New Zealand' to try to get a well earned coffee - alas the most beautiful street is all show and no substance (like Peter Dutton or today's social media influencers) since most of the beautiful shops were closed. The gin joint was open and we were tempted dear reader, but no, not this time.

New Regent Street.

We headed back to the CBD to grab an ironically great coffee from the Majestic Tea Rooms, after which we repaired to our hotel to sort our dinner destination - Francesca's Italian Kitchen, so that the premise of pizza being the only truly international food could be tested once again.

Outside the gin joint in New Regent Street.

Dinner is over and I now sit at the window of our hotel room watching the Tramway Restaurant doing laps of the city. Am I jealous? No. Resentful? No. We had the most wonderful (and cheaper) dinner at Francesca's. The food was excellent, the staff delightful and it was all of 5 minutes walk from the hotel.  As was the case the last evening, many people were turned away. It is essential in our post-COVID world to book. And in any case it's polite.

Squid ink spaghetti and seafood.

Venison pepperoni pizza, 'Bambi'

Tomorrow is a transit day. We have a couple of things to do here in soggy Christchurch in the morning and then we are driving to Dunedin. It is a four and half hour drive (plus stops along the way) so I doubt that there will be a post tomorrow.

Until next time.

Rain (Christchurch, New Zealand)

There are two things of significance I neglected to include in the last post, dear reader. Before that, a spoiler alert, there are no pictures in this post - sorry. Like, rain and stuff, and we didn't go far from the hotel.

The first is the amazing scenery as you fly into Christchurch and the second was the friendliness of the border staff. The latter proving that you can be efficient and effective at your work without being an absolute prick - yes America I'm looking at you.

The mountains you fly over are amazing, like I've nothing I've ever seen before. Australia's old mountains are more a set of rolling hills by comparison. And Canada's magnificent mountains are covered in trees. Those as you fly into Christchurch are like the bones of some ancient animal, a densely packed rib cage, tall, and steeply sided with sharp summits. There is precious little vegetation beyond a particular height. I have no idea whether this is natural. There were, what looked like, scree slopes from the top of many ridges, but of fine silt or mud, not rock. Whatever, it was truly breathtaking. Then it all gives way to what I assume is the Canterbury plain.

That spectacular welcome was almost matched by the immigration officer. He couldn't have been friendlier. Business was slow so we had a chat about less friendly arrivals in other countries - including Australia. It doesn't cost much to be nice and it really sets up your time in another country.

As the forecasters predicted, the beautiful sunshine gave way to rain and today's title. A classic from 1983 by Dragon, have a listen. Undeterred we set out for breakfast. It drizzled. We walked up to Riverside Markets. It is a bit of a tourist mecca and well worth a visit. There were plenty of places open for breakfast but there was nowhere to sit. The restaurants upstairs had yet to commence service so we wandered back in the direction of the hotel to Majestic, a small café in one of the lanes. The coffee was excellent, so I had two. The breakfast fare was limited but sufficient for our first full day in Christchurch.

Back to the hotel to collect the car and drive to, wait for it, Westfields. Yes, the shopping giant exists here too. Sadly. We found our way to Macpac to purchase walking boots to replace those that supported me in the Tassie walk last week. Aside from the summer sale here in NZ, the exchange rate ensured my purchase was quite cost effective.

Oh, alright, one photo. New boots.

Then it was time to visit Pandora. The store, not the person from that daggy teen fiction novel. We purchase a kiwi on a silver fern, you can't get much more NZ than that. Unless there was a pack of ugly, cauliflowered-eared forwards trying to ruck the kiwi. Sorry, I got carried away. Pandora charm safely in the back pack, we departed for the drizzle of the open air car park and the drive back to the hotel.

Once again the rain eased, lulling us into a false sense of security, like an All Blacks team conceding the first points. No, wait, that doesn't happen. Well, neither regularly nor often. Where was I dear reader? Oh, yes, the rain had eased so we thought we would visit the Quake City Exhibition. It was ... amazing, emotional, interesting, fascinating, terrifying ... I'm wearing something to bed tonight. Just to be prepared. Well, there's a first time for everything.

Seriously, the quake centre is a must do. There are comparisons I could make with other cities that have experienced disasters, but really, people will look at population size, nature of the disaster or whatever. There have been many earthquakes that have affected Christchurch and all of New Zealand. It's called the shaky isles for a reason. But, here we have the stories of people on a screen before us who saved lives, who lost their loved ones, who found their children, alive. We saw their anguish, their soul searching, their questioning of their lives, who they were, what they had done with their time on the planet and what the do in the future. It was confronting and it should be. It was also uplifting and funny. Kiwis share that same laconic wit that Aussies do. I don't know if that helped. It didn't stop me from crying and tearing up now just thinking about these people and their stories.

And today, of all days was the anniversary of that major quake, February 22, 2011. That was just a freaky coincidence. We almost didn't go in. It was raining, well drizzling and we'd walked over there expecting to go straight in. Not today, there was a queue of 20 people standing in the Christchurch weather. One person out, one person in. So we waited, and you know dear reader I queue for no man, nor woman neither. Today, I queued and it was worth it, for so many reasons.

Anyway, enough sentimentality. Sniff. I'm not crying, it's the air conditioning. 

We spent so long in the Quake Centre we didn't need to return to the hotel prior to our dinner booking at Original Sin. Great name. How could we resist? It's nothing fancy. A small wine list and a mixture of Italianesque food options. No, dear reader, I did not take the pizza option. There was a rack of lamb dish that was offered for two, so I threw myself on the Ash Wednesday sacrificial fire to watch my good wife eat meat (travellers' dispensation claimed). Worth it. I can have pizza tomorrow.

The rain continues to drift in and we continue to alter our plans to accommodate the weather. It's like being Peter Dutton. Yeah. Nah. Nothing is like that, in my experience. The weather might force us to adjust what we are doing, but it doesn't make us pretend we are something we are not.

Until next time.

Hopefully with pictures. Of things other than my boots. Oh, whatever, I was excited about my new boots.