Christchurch

Our short flight from Dunedin was very comfortable and we arrive at Sudima Hotel in the early evening. It turns out our hotel choice was perfect as it is only a short walk to Victoria Park, and once this is crossed, the heart of the city is in front of you.

After unpacking, we had a quick drink in the hotel bar and then found a restaurant just around the corner called Mexicanos. This was perfect for us to get tacos and quesadilla, washed down with beer and maragaritas.

On our first full day we had prebooked a tour at the International Antarctice Centre. Chrischurch is one of 5 gateways to the Antarctic, the others being Cape Town (South Africa), Hobart (Australia), Punta Arenas (Chile), and Ushuaia (Argentina).

We had breakfast at the hotel, and Steve was delighted that he recognised Goldie (DJ/musician) also eating. Turns out he had played Christchurch the night before. It reminded Steve of the time he slept with another famous star, Kylie Minogue, many years ago. She was in a different room of course, but nonetheless. We then Ubered to our tour.

Our guide turned out to be a bit of an annoying twat. Plus we had some annoying Americans. The centre is very popular, and it seemed strange to start the tour with the guide standing on a box and speaking to us for 20 minutes in the busy reception, with all of its hub bub of activity and noise. We stuck with it, though Nikki increasingly wandered off as we proceeded through the tour.

At one point we were provided heavy all-weather jackets and invited into a cold room at -5 degrees, replicating Antarctic conditions on a summers day. Apparently though this is one of windiest parts of the world and therefore to recreate conditions, they turned on some heavy duty fans and the temperature quickly dropped to -18C. Now that was chilly, although at least we had socks on this time (Steve though was still in shorts). We continued through some short films, Shackletons hut, a mock up of a transport plane, and we even got to see some penguins. The grand finale was a ride in a Hagglunds transporter which took us over an assault course built to replicate the terrain. That was actually quite good fun.

Generally, the exhibition is laid out pretty well once we managed to zone out the annoying twat and the “we’ve got the tee shirt” Americans, it was a good couple of hours of learning about something pretty alien to us. We would recommend going without the tour, and just ease around at your own pace. You can book just for entry with no tour, and add on the Hagglunds experience if you are so inclined.

We hopped an Uber into the city centre, and were struck by the number of lovely houses on either side of the road. It became clear that the devastation of the 2011 quakes had resulted in much rebuilding, and most of it in a contemporary fashion. Which is right up our street. Which was all a bit ironic as our first stop was Quake City, an exhibition dedicated to the quake (actually 2 about 6 months apart).

It takes about an hour to walk around, and Nikki was more interested than Steve in the exhibits. Of course all of our friends will know that Nikki does like a disaster movie, and here she was living and breathing it. The only disaster movie Steve ever really embraced was Piranha 3D starring Kelly Brook.

By now we needed a beer and found the Victoria, opposite Victoria Park. Sitting at an outside table, quenching our thirst and 2 blokes on escooters zoom past dressed in red and waving light sabres. Bit weird. Then a giant Panda waddles past. Bit weird. 2 girls on scooters dressed as Princess Leia. Bit weird. A steady stream of weirdos pass our table. “Is that a bloke or a woman”. Turns out Armageddon is hosting at the convention centre next door; it’s a sort of NZ Comic-Con

We next find Regent Street up the road. This is a small side street packed with bars and restaurant but most notable for the fact that trams squeeze past the tables and umbrellas as you are drinking.

As a side note, we have noticed on this trip the number of young Chinese/Japanese/Korean girls who like to strike a supermodel pose while their friend/partner/parent does a David Bailey on the other side of the lens. This can be in front of a monument; an amazing fountain; a centuries old tree; a colourful cocktail; a newsagents; a homeless man – it doesn’t matter, that fringe needs to be brushed across those eyes. They are completely oblivious to passers by staring incredulously, so into themselves that they don’t notice.

As we were supping our beers, and a tram squeezed through, we had our fingers crossed that one of these women while smouldering at the camera would be knocked flat on her arse. Regrettably, it never happened.

We had by now gone a few days where a restaurant had not put chairs up on tables while we were still eating. Casa Publica that night put that world back on an even keel, and then some. At this establishment though chairs on tables was not enough. Oh no. Here they completely moved all the chairs and tables out of the room. Where we were once sitting in a buzzy dining area, we were now in an empty village hall supping an Irish Coffee. For a change, as we were paying Nikki mentioned how disrespectful this was to a customer enjoing a meal, but once again a blank face stared back at us with no idea what we were talking about.