The Beginning of the End
Jul 31, 2008
A picture of my beloved Marco that my mom sent from home. Hugging my cat is probably the one thing I'm looking forward to coming home for... and my mom's cooking of course. But who said anything about going home? There's still some travelling left to do!
After my monumentally eventful few days in Queenstown, I was ready to get the hell out of that town (it sucks your money dry). My final new destination in New Zealand was Christchurch. The plan was to tie up any loose ends there... sell my car and get ready to leave the country. Mentioning this at the hostel, Andres, a dude from Chile just beginning his working holiday in NZ, said he also planned to go to Christchurch. He, like myself and so many other misguided travellers, hoped to find a job in Queenstown, but it didn't work out. Cool, we can share a ride and petrol costs. The problem was that I was stopping in Cromwell for a few days first to hang out with Chris, so I couldn't bring Andres along. Hmm... how can we work this out? Maybe he could hitchhike to Cromwell in a couple days and we'll head up to Christchurch from there. Problem was, he had two large travel bags and hitching would be difficult lugging those around. Andres then made an ultimate leap of faith and made a suggestion... he'll leave the bags with me (someone he'd only known for half an hour) and hitchhike to Cromwell without them... where I'll hopefully be. He trusted me, I trusted me, sweet as... and I was off to Cromwell.
After Queenstown, it felt great having a normal relaxed day. Ran some errands with Chris and made a trip to the winery where his flatmate worked.
How do you turn a chore into a tour? Bring Charles along. Deborah, Chris' flatmate, pours bentonite into the wine tank. Bentonite absorbs proteins and helps clarify white wines (some of the random stuff I learned on my tour). The sweet smell of grapes turning into wine in the fermentation room were intoxicating.
Craig dealing out a hand of poker. Too bad for Chris we weren't playing for money, he won both nights we played! Me being runner-up one of those times. Unbelievable.
Smudge is Deborah's old and sick dog... on its last days old and sick. Sleeping on the couch, I was occasionally awoken and freaked out by what sounded like an old man's Ebola cough and vomiting sound. Poor dog.
Just as planned, Andres sent me a text that he made it to Cromwell. Like so many time before, I had to say a final goodbye to a great Kiwi mate and all the great memories in this town. But I wasn't sad for too long. How could I be with bright blue skies above me and 400 kilometers of glorious driving ahead of me?
It's funny how when you travel with another traveller, you end up taking so many more pictures.
Stopping for lunch.
The Lindis Pass. Finally leaving Otago (I've been here for months!) and heading into Canterbury.
The final epic drive.
Mount Cook in the distance over Lake Pukaki. My original plan was to take the drive slowly, make many stops, take a side trip to Mt. Cook village, possibly spending the night there, but Andres wanted to arrive in Christchurch that night, so we moved on. It's one of my few regrets.
Lake Ta-kee-po... Lake Ti-ka-poo... Lake Tee-ka-po... I've heard Lake Tekapo pronounced every possible way at the hostel in Dunedin. It was a mandatory stop on the Magicbus route from Dunedin to Christchurch, so every other person there complained about how they were being taken to this place they couldn't pronounce against their will. I found it to be quite nice.
Church of the Good Shepherd
We arrived in Christchurch at night. Not the best time to arrive in a new city and definitely not the best time to search for a hostel, but that's what we did for a couple hours. It wasn't hard; there are plenty in town. But Andres was planning on staying here for a few months to work, and I needed to be for a couple weeks to sell my car, so we both were looking for the best and cheapest long term accommodation.
During our quest, we got to know a lot of the central city. Here we are at Cathedral Square with the Christchurch Cathedral in the background. I JUST realized I can say and hear the word "Christchurch" without it sounding weird to me. I remember thinking, what the hell type of name is Christchurch??? Christchurch Christchurch Christchurch Christchurch Christchurch
Well, we gave up on our quest and ended up sleeping in the car. Dang... could've woken up to the sounds of nature, bird songs, and glorious mountains views instead, not morning traffic.
That's my orange.
A food stand at Cathedral Square.
The Chalice, a sculpture in Cathedral Square.
Within my first day, I made a "For Sale" poster and started posting it at backpackers all around town. Can you pick mine out? Winter time is a very bad time of year to sell cars here. Add to this the fact that my car has 358,000 kilometers on it and is a gas guzzler. The odds are against me... I've been here over a week, and STILL no one has responded to these ads.
Rain, rain, go away. It's been raining almost every day since I've been here. I can imagine Christchurch being a bangin' city in the summer. The parks are massive and there are plenty of common areas for events and festivals. But since I've been here, it's just been dismal.
The backpackers I've been staying at. It's the same company as one I'd stayed at in Queenstown and Franz Josef, so I was expecting the same level of quality and fun. It hasn't been all great, too many wacko regulars staying here. There's one guy who stinks, one guy who yelled at me because he thought I threw his cat off the couch (people who know me know I'd never do such a thing), one guy steals food in the middle of the night, and the worst guy small talks everyone to death. He's asked the same mundane and inane basic backpacker travel questions to so many people so many times that he'll forget he already asked you and will ask them again... and he makes a comment about everything he sees on the TV! It's maddening!!! I'm really just here for wireless internet and the free soup (and bed of course). Oh well, guess I have too many things to do to bother socializing anyway.
Probably my view from where I'm sitting at the moment.
That's Philip from the Czech Republic, one of the few normal people I've met here. He's pretty much having the same existence I did in Dunedin. Working for a few months in the city, staying at a backpackers to save money. Really, this type of life is so simple and rewarding, everyone should try it some time.
Free soup. Always the same... barley, carrot, onion. I never refuse free food, but sometimes I have to question my judgment here.
A tourist tram on Worcester Street.
There used to be a house in Bluff, south of Invercargill, that welcomed and charmed hundreds of thousands of guests from all around the world. It was Fred and Myrtle's Paua house. Paua shells reveal beautiful swirls of colors when sanded and polished, and the walls of this house were covered in them. Pure Kiwiana (Kiwi kitsch)
For some reason, the house was taken down, and one of the rooms was faithfully recreated here at the Canterbury Museum.
Fred and Myrtle. They're dead.
A taxidermy display of New Zealand birds. Just reminded me of how cool it was to see the huge royal albatross swooping above me in real life.
The display on Antarctica exploration was quite cool. Christchurch is the aerial gateway to that remote continent. There's supposed to be a great Antarctica attraction in town, but it costs 30 dollars to enter, so I'll have to pass on that.
As always, seeking out where pub poker is played in town. No place will ever have the same magic as Dunedin... though just tonight, I saw a royal flush hand at my table. 10-ace of spades... It was a beautiful sight to behold.
Just imagine this during the summer, better yet, autumn. It'd be beautiful.
Gutted, absolutely gutted. One day while taking pictures, I noticed some dark patches in the images. After I uploaded the images to the computer to take a closer look, it was confirmed... my new camera has suffered the same fate as the one I originally brought here... dust in the lens. No one else would probably even notice... but I do, with every single picture I take... such a nagging sinking feeling.
One of the many pedestrian shopping areas in town.
Tickets please.
Battling minds in Cathedral Square.
Sorry, but doesn't He look a bit like a monkey here?
Nazis take a symbol that has existed for thousands of years, and suddenly all existence of it has to be explained? That's just absurd. I say we take it back.
Interior of Christchurch Cathedral. It's nice, it's big (as far as churches in New Zealand go), but really, after visiting St. Peters Basilica or the Notre Dame Cathedral... there's almost no point in pretending to be truly impressed.
Checking out the coriolis effect. I totally forgot what water swirling down a drain looks like in the northern hemisphere, so I can't compare them.
While cooking a whole chicken for a Sunday roast this past week, I got a call from a guy who spoke with what sounded like an Indian accent. I thought it was a wrong number until I heard the word "car". Ears perked up. What? Sorry? I couldn't clearly tell what he was saying, but got the message that he wanted to see my car. "OK! I'll bring it to you, where are you?", but he didn't know where he was and said he'll call me later. I quickly ate my meal I spent so long preparing and darted out to my car to clean it. Here I was trying to sell this thing, and it was still a mess! So for the next 3 hours, I scrubbed every seat, wiped every surface, polished anything that could be polished... and fell in love with it all over again.
Oh so shiny! After my cleaning frenzy, I texted the guy at the number he called me from (I recognized it as a vodaphone mobile number so I knew it would work). "Do you still want to look at the car?" *send. He called me back with a yes, so I drove it to his place in town, and he instantly fell in love with the car as well. It's a good feeling when someone looks at a car you want to sell and they raise their eyebrows and smile. It's an even better feeling when they take it around the block and tell you how well it drives. And the best feeling of all is when they ask you to bring it around in the morning to settle the deal. The amazing thing is that he found the car on an obscure online noticeboard I posted an ad on... thinking NOBODY will ever look there. The nifty flyers I spent so much time making and posting all around town... as I said, still no response.
Going for my last joyride around town... Driving through the Lyttleton Tunnel.
Saying goodbye to my spare key... always on hand to prevent a disastrous situation... right Dave? But alas, no need for it anymore.
All the places the car has been, all the roads, all the stories, all the memories, passed down from one driver to the next. My story ends here, at 358,755km
Aubrey, the guy who eagerly bought my car, was a South African (why his accent sounded Indian on the phone, I don't know). He handed me $900 cash in the morning and another $250 after stopping at a bank. $1,150... $100 less than what I advertised it for, but $50 more than what I paid for it, so I did well for myself (I was just trying to recover money that I spent on the tyres). We stopped at a post shop to fill out a change of ownership form, and it was a done deal (yes, it really is that easy in this country).
Dropping me back off at the hostel, I got to know more about Aubrey, troubles in his home country, the Afrikaans language, and the new life he's starting here with his family. He also showed me things about the car I never knew about, like how to adjust the side mirrors from the inside and adjust the brightness of the dashboard... I never knew you could do that!!! Not that it mattered anymore, my car was his car now, and it was in good hands.
Watching the car drive away was like watching the shores of a homeland fading into the distance. The security of always having a place to go was gone. I was melancholy but obviously ecstatic... sold in less that a week. Now... what to do with the second week I gave myself here?
...Look at things I didn't look at before, like cool fountains, but after a while, they're not too exciting to look at...
...Play with the hostel cat, but it seems to be asleep...
Oh yeah... organize shit. A year's worth of stuff I had accumulated in my car was suddenly dumped in a tiny room shared with 5 other people. They probably weren't pleased. Things were placed into 4 different categories, things I'll send home, things I'll try to give away, things I'll throw out, and things I'll need to continue my travels. Believe me, every single item I held in my hand said, "Take me! Take me!". It was a pack rat's nightmare.
Eventually, I had a collection of things I wouldn't need to travel with anymore, but wouldn't dare throw away... those were going home. 12kg, the damage was $160, which isn't too bad considering how far it has to go. If that box is there when I get home, I'll be one happy man, if it doesn't... hmm, I don't even want to think about THAT happening. The passport photos are for a travel visa I'm trying to obtain (I'll have further details if it gets approved). Instead of paying $12 to have them taken for me, I took them on my camera, sized them up on photoshop, then printed a regular 4x6 print at a kiosk for 89 cents. Hey, if you have the tools, use them.
Ahh, the tax refund mystery. Everyone seems to have heard a different story about it... like it's some mythical tale, altered and embellished on from generation to generation. Here's now it works... fill out a few income tax return forms... submit those along with departure flight details. After the date of the departure flight, they'll the complete the process and deposit any refunds into your New Zealand bank account as indicated in the form. Alternatively, they'll send a check to your home address if you already closed your NZ bank account. That's it. Of course, I'll only believe it once I see the money in my account, but it seems sweet as.
Just randomly ran into Andres today. Hadn't seen him in nearly a week as he left Christchurch for a few days to work on the ski field (He does snow patrol in Chilean ski fields). But he's back here looking for work and was making his rounds at the temping agencies. That was me not too long ago. What will I do with my remaining time in Christchurch? I don't know. I got done everything I needed to get done. I'll just wait around until August 5th when I fly to Wellington. I'm stopping there to say goodbye to some mates. Then I head up to Auckland to say goodbye to my mates there. Symmetry... for every buyer, there's a seller, for every climb, a descent, for every hello, there's a goodbye, for every beginning, there is an end.