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Contaminated Tents and English Towns On The Other Side Of The World
Auckland -> Christchurch, 17th November 2001.
Due to the fun of time zones, our flight actually seemed to take
about 2 days, even though we were only in the air for 12 hours. We
left Los Angeles on the 15th November, then 12 hours later we landed
in New Zealand on the 17th November...my head hurts! :o( .
As the plane sat in Auckland, we creaked and unfolded our limbs
before leaving the plane. We wandered into the terminal and after
countless hours stuck in a plane, we were off to spend more time on
a place!
Our next flight was an internal one to Christchurch, a city on the
south island. The plan in New Zealand was to start by flying down to
Christchurch then to spend the next 2 months working our way up the
country back to Auckland. Finally, just after new year, we'd fly
from Auckland to Australia.
As we stumbled pass the exit gate and wandered around trying to find
the domestic flights. The airport seemed quite small but we couldn't
find flights to Christchurch anywhere. Eventually we found one of
the cheery "Can I Help You?" type people with a big blue blazer on
strolling around. We asked him for directions and he described the
route we needed to take. After some lengthy directions, I glanced at
my watch. Hmmm. Still on American time. After some difficult
mathematical techniques and a little differential calculus I managed
to calculate to local time. Oh c**p! We only had about an hour to
get to our scheduled flight!
We had originally been told that our luggage would be transferred
between flights for us, but after a quick check, we found this
wasn't the case. We ran to the luggage collection point and grabbed
them to exit the terminal. However, our tent had been kept separate
because of 'possible contamination'. Basically, anything that has
been recently used in fields or near livestock could potentially
hold germs or bacteria that could threaten the New Zealand
eco-system. If you have anything of this nature you need to declare
it, and they have scientists check it for contamination. We passed
through with out normal bags then stood by an ominous little hatch
and waited for out tent. And waited. And waited. And had a McDonalds
breakfast. And waited. Then the hatch opened and our tent was showed
quickly through before the hatch slammed shut again. A big sticket
on the side of the tent proudly stated that it was safe.
We sprinted off with our luggage pilled haphazardly onto a small
trolley. We ran in circles for a few minutes until we found an exit
and saw the blue & white path that leads to the domestic terminal.
The Romans would not have been impressed with this path! It wound
back and forth, round buildings, through trees and I swear,
vertically up and down! After a mini-trek, we skidded to a halt
outside the terminal. We ran into the terminal, now quite late for
our flight. We queued up, a little panicky and waited to see what
would happen. When we reached the desk, the clerk looked quite
unperturbed by the fact that our tickets said we were due to be on a
flight that had left over an hour ago. I had a whole list of excuses
ready to reel out to her, but she just booked us on the next
Auckland-Christchurch flight. Apparently, missing flights for this
route is common and usually ok. As the flight is done pretty much
hourly, they just put you on the next available one!
We spent the next hour or so sitting around in the terminal, playing
cards and reading before the call came for our flight. It was a
short and smooth journey, and before we knew it, we were standing on
the tarmac outside the Christchurch airport.
Now very tired, we quickly chose a guesthouse from the accommodation
panel in the airport. The 'Occidental Backpackers'' sounded fine and
it offered free pickup. That'll do nicely thank you!
 The taxi driver took us on a quick tour around Christchurch on the
way to the hostel. The quiet green parks, the huge, old oak trees,
the ancient, picturesque cathedrals, the Cambridge-type, rolling
river all seemed quite familiar...and then it clicked. Christchurch
was the spitting English of an old English town! It was scary how
'English' it was! We'd come half-way round the world, just to find
somewhere that might as well be home!
The taxi driver told us a few tales, but as I was almost nodding
off, I didn't take much of it in. We arrived at the hostel and
checked in without any problems. As I stepped into the room, the
main thing I noticed was how bright and colourful the room was! It
was a largish room with 3 bunkbeds and each wall was painted a
different, bright colour. It was actually quite funky! Anyhow, after
having a quick look around the hostel and the attached pub (of
course) we milled around for an hour or so before falling heavily
asleep.
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To know the road ahead, ask those coming back
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