Ok, I'm lagging behind badly with my blog here so I'll whip through New Zealand a bit. The arrival into NZ was much politer than the rounds of questioning that had greeted me in Australia. A quick stamp and bag pick up saw me out into the cool New Zealand night.

Christchurch is the largest settlement of the South Island, with around 350,000 people. The metropolitan area contains over half the island's population of just over 1 million. The CBD is small, and much of the population lives in a suburban sprawl that my night bus drove me through. Arriving in town I treated myself to a McDonalds before venturing off to find the hostel, which was one of the bountiful Base chain - every sizable town in New Zealand has a least one, testament to how important backpackers are in NZ. As such I stayed in many of them - mostly because that the Kiwi bus, my mode of transport, tended to drop me at their doors, and also because you knew what you would get. There is a simple equation to good hostels - a clean bed and bathroom, well equipped kitchen and some form of common area, and the Base hostels performed well on all fronts. Most had bars, the larger ones had their own clubs!

The next day was pleasantly warm. It was probably the first sunshine I'd seen in a couple of weeks, and far from the windy, rain drenched Christchurch I'd pass through a few weeks later. I ventured out to see the somewhat limited sights and sounds of Christchurch. First up, and handily directly across the road, was the cathedral. Now I know NZ is a relatively new country, but to call this a cathedral is not far off a joke. Andover's main church is larger. It was pretty enough, but when you've grown up with Salisbury Cathedral looming over you every day such a small place is distinctly underwhelming. What I found more entertaining, though, was the Cathedral Square, and in particular its giant chess board, with even had benches situated around so that locals could watch the ensuing battle of wits (and there was usually a sizable audience). I'd had my arse kicked a few times by the Norwegian Niks in Oz, so I was keen to try and get some tactical gems from the long toothed campaigners that battled through the day with their out-sized plastic armies, and spent more time than I should have observing the games.

When I tired of this (some kids started playing, and I decided that even a bad a player as I must be better than them) I went off exploring. Now Christchurch isn't called the English City for nothing. As you stroll through the Botanical Gardens along Cambridge Terrace and punts slowly make their way down the River Avon beside you, you really could be back home.

The only other major draw was the city's museum, which is free, and in my book free stuff is good. I'd almost made it past the suggested donations box when some overly helpful b****** came and gave me a map and asked me how I was and was just generally annoyingly pleasant. With his knowing smile compelling me I had no choice but to drop a precious coin into the box. It was worth it though, with the exhibitions largely centred on New Zealand history, but also a particularly interesting (for me) few rooms about the history of exploration in Antarctica. Christchurch serves as the supply port for the eastern research bases there.

So that was Christchurch, done in a day. Unfortunately I had three more days to kill, as I couldn't book onto a bus any earlier. There was a good crowd at the hostel though, and we killed time playing cards and drinking beer. Yes, beer, and not the cheap ghastly goon which I'd had to survive off in Australia. Beer here was cheap, goon was expensive, I was happy. The first night was interesting, with one English guy, who worked at the hostel (for those not in the know, backpackers often work in hostels for free board), getting extremely drunk and trying to punch someone else. Luckily he has to smashed to do so, but apparently when he went back to the staff dorm he picked a fight with an American worker who no-one liked much. What the English chap had forgotten was that the Yank was easily twice his size and had wrestled while at college. After getting himself put through a bed the t*** was promptly kicked out. To round off the weird night another Scotsman got very drunk, went to bed but came back out in just his boxers for a cigarette (not realizing that both his fags and lighter were not being stored in his underwear), and somewhere along the way managed to smash a window on the balcony. That was my cue to retire to bed, as that is the safest place to be when such bizarre things are happening,

The other nights passed by much more peacefully. A group of us even cooked up a massive roast with all the trimmings for one of the guy's birthdays. Very civilized. Beer and a giant chessboard can only provide so much entertainment though, when it was time to leave I was more than ready.