Trains, planes etc....

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So, to continue with my car dramas, lets just say that as the stereos broke so I can’t drown out the smell of the flooding carburettor. Whilst the car-savvy amongst you will know that these two faults aren’t necessarily connected, a good dose of Bon Scott’s finest would at least prevent me from nodding off whilst fighting the effects of inhaling full strength Caltex Super Octane at the traffic lights at the end of Ponsonby Road. In any case, if a didn’t have something to fix how else would I spend my weekends….well…..

So, 3 weekends ago, I had booked to go down to Christchurch for my Birthday to see the Crusaders in the Super 14, this is never as easy as it sounds. I know that most, having never being to New Zealand imagine it to be a small, mystical island(s) inhabited by all blacks, penguins, kiwis (shoe polish) elfs and the odd ork, where you’ll practically fall over the Prime Minister, Neil Finn and even Keith Richards falling out of a palm tree (all at the same time), but unfortunately this is just not the case. The geography of the country is narly to say the least, and its an awfully long way to drive to the South Island, In fact just imagine imagine riding to Barnstaple on a unicycle, whilst patting your head and that would only be half as difficult. For this journey then, there is only one mode of transport, and that is those good (albeit aussie) blokes at Qantas.

Just getting to the airport was a drama, of course, theres no train, and trying to get the bus normally involves exposing yourself (or someone else) to the airbus driver, just to get him to stop. Once you’re at the airport, you’ll normally find its delayed (which it was), civilities have normally broken down this stage and this has been exacerbated by the fact that the bar has closed, having sold the last 2 week old sausage roll. Children seemed to be taking turns to spontaneously burst into tears (I don’t blame them really), whilst their parents attempt to look otherwise distracted. I could tell, straight away, this was going to be the start of a great weekend.

Well, it actually was, I got the Chch airport, found a complete lack of public transport options available there too, but was accosted by a cheerful bloke (with a cab in case you wandered) who offered to take me into town for $15. We stood waiting at the lights on Bealey Ave for what must have been all of 12- and-a-half seconds before he muttered “bloody traffic aye?” yep I was back down south.

Well, I managed to meet up with some old work colleagues that I worked with whilst down there the last time, for a beer ‘o’ clock. Some things never change, some of my old files were still sat there on the shelves, it was all a bit surreal. I met up with a couple John and Heather that I boarded with a couple of years ago, and we got a swappa crate in (I’ll do the glossary later). The Crusaders game was great, men on horseback, cheerleaders, hot dogs and tomato sauce, the taste of beer in plastic and err.. the actual match itself. After the 30th mexican wave attempt, people try to get into the proceedings a bit more, at which point the full time whistle blows, so its a good result all around.

Went and had a few beers with my hosts, and they even let me stay over (thanks guys), Saturday morning was one of those beautiful big blue sky Canterbury days. People always moan that Christchurch is flat, but the Port Hills loom up pretty quick to the south, drive west and the Southern Alps are always on the Horizon. With mountains, and vineyards to the north and the Blue Pacific to the east, ive never had any problems with it, of course having drunk considerable amounts of the local beer (Canterbury Draught), and suffered, I suppose I might be a bit bias.

I headed out to Lyttleton on the bus, which is only about 20 minutes away from town, passing the house that I lived in 2 years before, it all seemed very comforting. Lyttleton is an odd place , but I really like it. Its a quiet, rusting, old colonial port town, thats stuck somewhere between the salty sea dawg image, a bit like that bloke off Jaws with the tattoos, and a new bohemian, artistic community with its small art galleries, great coffee shops, ‘funny cigarettes’(as my nan would call them) and hearty breakfasts, so it was all going to take a bit of walking off. The setting is really incredible, look past the marshalling yards and the container terminal, and all you can see is aquamarine sea, to hills rising sharply over the bay, to blue sky. Scott of the Antarctic set out from here on what would be his last voyage south, if it had have been a day like that, I’m sure he’d have thought twice about it (or at least considered taking husky or two)

So, full of vitality, or maybe it was just the booze running through my veins from the night before, I walked the Bridle Path over the hill to Heathcote (On the Christchurch side), and then went back into town to pick my rental car up. Twice having ordered a Hyundai Getz, I never seem to end up with one, this time though it was’nt to be another Holden and even though was greeted by a smiling assistant, I was allocated something called a Mitsubishi Lancer (Automatic), so spent the next 10 minutes of my life sporadically grinding to a halt as I attempted to drive across the city.

Met up with an old friend that evening for a few beers, but unfortunately it was a quiet night (although fortunate for me) and the bars were doing that typically New Zealand trick of closing up early. In one place we were greeted with the old line “well the good news is lads, we’ve got loads of beer, the bad news is we stopped serving it 10 minutes ago “, ha ha, yeh mate, bloody hilarious.

Set out to Hanmer Springs first thing in the morning, and spent the rest of the day getting caught in showers on the Lewis River, trying to find a natural thermal spring, to no avail. It all seemed ok though as i sat in the hot pools in Hanmer Springs that evening as the snow started falling. Got chatting with an ex-pat couple from Blenheim, who’s both graduated from Manchester, and in much the same vein as the night before, I ended up eating (at least 3 week old)chicken pieces on a bench sat outside of the local dairy, as, you’d never have guessed it, By 9pm there was nowhere else open!

I’d taken the Monday off to celebrate reaching my 28th year (some achievement), Mt Isobel was once again to prove illusive due to a heavy snow dump the night before, so I meandered my way back to Christchurch. I always love flying home after a short break, theres something very civilising about air flight in general (unless you’ve flown Monarch Airlines to Benidorm in the school holidays). You always feel you’ve really ‘been somewhere’, which normally you have. At the other end a friendly shuttle driver also gave me a cheap ride back into Auckland, maybe I’d brought some of that South Island Vibe back with me?, Time will tell……

Hope everyone is ok, and getting prepared (as in getting lagered up) for the World Cup

Steve

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