A civilised place

5 February  2008

I am as parochial a North Islander as anyone else but I have a confession to make. I like Christchurch; it’s a really nice place. Okay, so that sounds a little patronising and I don’t mean it to sound that way because I really do like it, I just have a little bit of a hard time admitting it and I also know a couple of people who may be smirking now as they read this.

We docked a way from the actual city of Christchurch yesterday. In fact the port is another town all together and a shuttle bus was provided by the ship to get those of us not doing tours from the gangway to the city centre. A good thing as it turned out because I didn’t realise just how far it was. The other thing that I didn’t realise was just what a change there had been in the weather from Auckland, the last place that I had gotten off. As I walked down the corridor from my cabin to the stairs up to where the gangway was this time I passed an open door, the one that usually serves as our gangway. I was hit by a blast of icy air. Icy may be a slight exaggeration but by comparison to Auckland, and especially by comparison to everywhere else I’ve been for the past year or two, this was really cold. I turned on my heels and retreated by to the cabin, picking up something a little more substantial to wear than my usual t-shirt. I’m glad I did even if I still felt a bit underdressed by comparison to what the majority of the passengers getting onto the shuttle bus with me were wearing. A lot of them seemed to be gearing up for an Antarctic expedition but I guess that age makes the cold seem that much colder and it’s better to be prepared for the worse.

The bus ride in gave me my first live view of Canterbury. The hills seemed brown in that parched and dry way that I’ve seen so often in the pictures of this part of the country. I had to remind myself that summer here meant dry rather than the summer rainy season that I’ve gotten used to in Australia. The clouds that were rolling in promised some rain though even if it was summer.

Driving through the outer suburbs of Christchurch I was impressed by the state of the houses. Although older than you would probably find in most cities and not as crowded, the quarter acre still holding sway, they were neat and tidy and obviously well cared for. Even the lady sitting next to me commented on how well kept everything seemed and the wide tree lined streets with expansive nature strips betweens the two lanes was an impressive entrance to the city.

We were dropped off outside of Farmers, the wind gathering up enough force to blast me into an admission that I would have to wear the warm clothing I had stuffed into my pack rather than braving the conditions and doing my rugged New Zealander best to laugh at the cold. I covered up, zipped up and was immediately staring into the window of a souvenir shop with a sign saying “Welcome Amsterdam. Discount for passengers”. They must have known we were coming.

The first order of business was to get a haircut. I hate having my hair cut and tend to let it get longer and longer while putting off the day I have to sit in that chair making small talk while somewhere takes a sharp implement to my head and I clutch my glasses in my hands unable to see what’s happening. I found a barber who advertised no waiting and interrupted the barber who was standing outside his door with a cup of coffee watching the early morning shoppers going by. Apart from a pretty decent, and thankfully fast, haircut the other thing I got from him was the information that the weather had been changing on a daily basis for the last few days. It had gone from hot to cold to hot to cold overnight. He even made the claim that a couple of days before they had had 35C temperatures. I looked at the woollen clad people passing by outside and had to wonder but he swore it was true.

From the barbers I stopped for a quick sandwich, coffee and bran muffin (damn, I mist be getting old) for breakfast and then, grabbing a tourist map from a stand, headed for Christchurch Cathedral. The cathedral and the square surrounding it are easy landmarks to find and are surrounded by more tourist shops than I would have thought a place like Christchurch would have a right to. The building itself is impressive although that may be as much from its architecture as the fact that the city has not crowded it in such a way that it is disappearing among a press of larger buildings. It still holds its ground, standing slightly off centre of the diamond shaped square and it’s hard not to look up at the spire. It manages to stand out, thankfully not being dominated by an oppressive city skyline. I sat in the square and ate fish and chips from a small cart. The rain had started and I was sheltering under a tree but the square was still full of life. The rain hadn’t put off the people playing chess on a giant outdoor board and while the locals may have hurried their steps the tourists still stood and took photos of the cathedral, the statues and the trams.

As I wandered around the streets I got the impression of a city that was very proud of its heritage. The care that was being lavished on the homes in the suburbs was also being lavished on the buildings in the city centre and the sheer number of older buildings, restored and being used, was wonderful to see. I’ve always heard how English Christchurch was and now I can see why. The buildings have that feel, there is the Avon River flowing through the middle of the city and the weather set the scene. I ended up walking to the Botanic gardens and, walking along the banks of the river, I could so easily have been in a scene from The Wind in the Willows. The gardens are enormous and I felt an overwhelming urge to have a Devonshire tea at the small café. Sitting there with an earl grey tea and scones with jam and real cream (mock me at your own peril) I was transported, aided by the English accent of the couple sitting next to me.

I hate to be this brief and I would like to write so much more about Christchurch and in the book I probably will but I have to get ready now for a tour of Dunedin and I’d like to post this before I get too far behind and have to write about two ports and risk mixing them up. There are not many cities I can say this about, I’m not really a city person, but Christchurch is lovely. The look, the feel and atmosphere make it a place to visit. I was upstairs having breakfast a short time ago and overheard a passenger saying that they thought New Zealand was the most civilised place in the world and absolutely wonderful. I’ve also been told by one of the Romanians I work with that New Zealand is the only place, outside of Romania, that they would ever consider living. I may be biased but you can’t argue with comments like that.