Kia Ora New Zealand!

All too soon, it was time to say goodbye to friends and family, and board the plane for Christchurch. Christchurch is supposedly the most English city in New Zealand. I couldn’t really see why, though I did notice that many of the streets are named after English cities – Manchester, Hereford, Gloucester – and there are statues of Queen Victoria and Captain Cook in the city centre near the River Avon.

Maybe it's to do with the many green spaces - Christchurch is known as the Garden City. I had a stroll through the Botanical Gardens and Hagley Park. Mike, my friendly taxi driver, told me that the latter is the 3rd biggest city park in the world, after Central Park and Hyde Park. The big difference is the lack of crowds - sometimes it felt like I had them both to myself. That is, until the occasional pupil from Christ's College next door (the oldest independent school in NZ) walked by, in their distinctive black and white striped blazers.

It was St. Patrick’s Day, and "Danny Boy" was blaring out from the Irish pub in Cathedral Square but the rain kept any other celebrations indoors. The occasional group of people walked by with shamrocks drawn in felt tip on their cheeks and a guy who looked like Gandalf in a bright green suit stopped me outside a shop, and taking off an imaginary top hat, inclined his head and slurred: “Excuse me – a very HAPPY St. Patrick’s Day to you!” “And to you too!” I replied. This completely threw him, and he sidled off muttering: “Um, okay, thank you!”

One thing that Christchurch does have in common with England though is the weather! Throughout the day it went from heavy showers to short-lived sun with a robust breeze about 3 or 4 times. Either way, the max temp was 12 degrees Celsius so I was shivering after the 32 degree heat of Singapore, and was walking around with my fleece, cardigan and gloves. To escape a particularly heavy shower, I jumped on the the free inner city shuttle bus for a couple of circuits, which seems to be used mainly by locals! including students at Christchurch Polytechnic (with the unfortunate acronym CPIT).

When the sun came out, I took a riverside walk and watched tourists being punted through the city by guys dressed in Edwardian clothing. All very pictureque, though I couldn't help thinking that the punting looked a bit tame as the water was only a few inches deep. My memories of punting involve several feet of water, with muddy riverbeds and overhanging branches to catch out the unwary and being chased by the occasional aggressive swan.

I had an amazing dinner at a Burmese restaurant called The Bodhi Tree. My Rough Guide warned that bookings were almost always essential, but I took a chance and went along as soon as it opened at 6pm. The 2 friendly ladies watched with great amusement as I took off layer after layer: "What country have you just come from then?" The recommendation was to get a couple of dishes, plus rice – I chose vegetable ajoo (veg in a light batter) and spicy marinated lamb kebabs (I forget the traditional name) with a chilli and mint dipping sauce. Both tasted amazing, as did the Burmese tea. Mmmmm!