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Arriving at Christchurch was a serious reality check to say the least. The city is bustling from street corner to street corner and even in the rain the neon lights can be seen lining the tarmac that comprises atleast 90% of the city. The first day, upon arrival, we scaled the streets for hostels that would let us take a shower but, in true extortionate, built-up city style, all insisted we book a room for the night first! Eventually, as a last resort we paid for a 30 minute swim at the local leisure centre so we could use their shower cubicles afterwards. The swim itself was extremely invigorating and a harsh reminder of the homely routine, I had left behind at home. Once again, the nastly little monster of homesickness lurked just around the corner. When I returned to the showers I realised, to my horror, that there no private cubicles, only communal lines of of small stainless steel shower heads (and about 10 other women!) Shaving my legs was a particulrly difficult chore, but I was sure I managed to conceal what I was really up to from the others. Dan, I imagined, has less success with his beard!
We had dinner and began looking for a campsite, which was a task that took us out of the city and 30kms north into a rural town with a free site. Here, we spent a couple of days trekking through forests and farmland determined to savour the last green sights of New Zealand. I managed to fall into a stream, into a mud puddle and down a hill before giving up and returning to the van in fits of giggles, sporting mutiple injuries that would emerge later as unattractive bruises. But, the mission was accomplished, and these two days of camping, hiking, walking and barbeques were immense fun and done in true kiwi style.
Returning to Christchurch two days after first finding it, we checked our emails just in time to realise that our flights had been changed and we were due to leave New Zealand in two days, three days earlier than planned. We managed, last minute, to arrange a new drop off time for the van and let our friend in Sydney know that we would be arriving in earlier than expected. I then spent the last afternoon in New Zealand waiting patiently in the waiting room of a Christchurch tattoo parlour waiting to be inked with a traditional Maori tattoo. Matt, the artist, is one of the few Maori living in the city of Christchurch, and after telling him about myself, my family, and my time in New Zealand, he proceeded to tell the story with tribal lines on my right foot. A particularly painful tattoo, I was relieved when he finished two and a half hours later and Dan and I could get back to the campsite with a bottle of wine, barbeque and steak for our last supper in this amazing country.
The next morning we dropped the van off and were very relieved when they failed to realise the missing remote control, map, spoon and kettle (who knows where they went) and gave us a lift to the airport where we caught a very calm and peacful flight over the Tasman Sea to Sydney.
Thought of the Day: "I'm not homeless, an alcoholic or a drug addict, although, yes, I realise I look like all three. Thank you!"
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