Penguins in the Antarctic Center in Christchurch
Avon River in Botanic Gardens in Christchurch
Looking down into Sumner and Christchurch in the distanceDay 54 – Jan. 25 –Timaru layover day
We didn’t do anything today of note. Joe finally got his swim in a warm ocean, and stayed in the water for at least an hour. I read the paper and watched what seemed to be thousands of runners jog past our window during a triathlon. Before they ran this leg, they kayaked out in the bay, then afterwards bicycled some number of miles. All while I read the paper.
Day 55 – Jan. 26 –Timaru to Akaroa
Along the fairways in Timaru are small, inexpensive houses, with goats and sheep in the back yards. Right in town. That is pretty common, small back yards in the middle of town being used as pasture for animals. And we often run into cows and sheep being herded along the backroads, eating down the grass between the road and the fences. Cuts down on the mowing expenses for the road crews.
In the small village of Geraldine stands a little shop with a sandwich board outside proclaiming that inside is the world’s largest jersey. I imagine most people drive on by without giving it a thought. They have missed a small miracle. It’s not a jersey cow, it’s a knitted sweater hanging on the wall of huge dimensions. But that’s not the miracle – it’s the husband of the woman who knitted it. He is one of the world’s living geniuses but you don’t learn this by reading a certificate on the wall screaming his IQ. (I have no idea what his IQ is, but it’s in the stratosphere.) We discovered this genius by spending 2 hours with him and learning how his mind works and what he’s accomplished in his 50 or so years on earth.
Using millions of tiny teeth from wool carding machines (or some sort of wool-making device), he has created a mosaic of the Bayeux Tapestry, just like the one in Bayeux, France, of the same dimensions. After gluing millions of those 1/8th of an inch metal teeth onto a sheet of some sort of backing, he then painted them the same colors as the original tapestry. The original tapestry is missing a number of panels, so he researched the history of that time and came up with a credible scenario, designed some more panels, and, more teeth, glue, and paint, he created the ‘missing panels’. It is several hundred feet long, and wraps around his ‘museum’ about 5 times, so to read the entire ‘tapestry’, you walk around the walls 5 times.
As if that weren’t enough for a lifetime, his churning mind has come up with a number of games and puzzles. Some use pieces that you manipulate around and fit together on a table. Others are computer games that could occupy you for the rest of your life.
He’s also put the entire tapestry on the computer. You can click on any object on the entire thing – a bird, horse, person, farm implement, ship, weapon – and the entire history of it, including the genealogy of a person, will be displayed. He has dozens of reference books he’s used to create all this, many of which are practically one of a kind. We spent 2 hours picking his brain and came away knowing we had been in the presence of a true genius.
After leaving Geraldine, we just headed straight for Akaroa, covering about 120 kilometers, 75 miles, one of our biggest driving days ever. That doesn’t seem like much by US standards, but because there’s so much to see and do in such a small space, we don’t cover much ground in a day.
Akaroa is at the far eastern end of a peninsula that is the drowned crater of an extinct volcano. The drive down into the town from the edge of the caldera is winding, steep, and beautiful. Found a lovely hotel right on the bay, and went exploring on foot through the town. Didn’t take very long to see it all. Our hotel had a mediocre restaurant, so we grabbed a table with an umbrella on the sidewalk and settled in to watch the tourists stroll by on this lovely evening.
A man and woman strolled by, his T-shirt emblazoned with ‘Same shirt, different day’. We could relate, sometimes wearing the same clothes several times before washing them, so we commented on it, they stopped for a chat, and soon joined us for dinner. They were from a town near the island of Sylt, in northern Germany near where we spent Christmas of 2007. He’s retired from Merck after 30 years, and they’ve lived in Cherry Hills, NJ, and South Africa, so their English was very good.
Day 56 – Jan. 27 –Akaroa layover day
We’d planned to go out on a boat to see dolphins and whales, but we woke up to rain and choppy waters, so the boats were not running. Even if they had been, you couldn’t have gotten me on one for all the lamb in NZ. So we just did other touristy things – went to the little museum, which had a big exhibit of one of the town’s sons, the man who was the captain of Ernest Shackleton’s ship Endurance, as well as the little boat he piloted to Elephant Island to get help for the men stranded on the ice back in the Antarctic. They claim he is the person responsible for not a single man being lost. May be.
We took a drive up onto the rim of the caldera from which we could look down on the misty waters of the lovely Akaroa harbor and its islands. At one point I got sleepy and we pulled off the road for me to take a nap, while Joe wandered down the narrow little road. He met up with a man from Ipswich, England, and they found out they had identical political interests, so they had a lively discussion. When I met up with them, his wife had joined up with them, too, and we stood in the cold and wind excitedly discussing politics until they saw that I was shivering so badly I could hardly talk. We then drove back into town and finished our conversation over hot chocolate beside a fire in a cozy pub.
We’d made arrangements to meet our German friends from last night for dinner tonight at a wonderful French restaurant, C’est la Vie. All over the walls, floors, and ceilings were scribblings by thousands of patrons. There was no place for us to write anything without covering up somebody else’s musings, but I found enough place on a piece of quarter round to write ‘Bye, Bush, Go, Obama!’ since he was inaugurated just a week ago. We ordered pork and beef fillet and that was the finest, tastiest meal we’ve had in all of NZ. As we were leaving, in came our Ipswich friends, so we had another couple of minutes’ visit with them.
Day 57 – Jan. 28 –Akaroa to Sumner/Christchurch
Up early and out to Akaroa’s golf course, where today is Opening Day. Turns out that golf is a winter sport here, not a summer sport. That’s because it is usually very dry here in summer and the fairways and greens get hard as concrete, making for high scores. Sort of the opposite of our winters, in which the wet muck drives our scores up. So every couple in Akaroa who plays golf was out in full force, clogging the fairways. They were all paired up, so, once again, we played alone. But we kept bumping up against the people in front of us and behind us, and by the end of the 18, we’d become good enough friends to be invited to have drinks with them after the round.
The road out of Akaroa climbs steeply up the sides of the caldera and at the very top, with incredible views, sits a restaurant. Their hamburgers don’t equal the views, though, so unless you like mush between white buns, don’t order one there.
Lyttleton Harbor, north of Akaroa, also sits in a steep-sided, drowned caldera, left behind when a volcano blew its top. Ships leave from here to go to Antarctica, and a long line of boats of all sorts, mostly HUGE, were steaming in and out of the harbor, some escorted by tug boats that looked like ants by comparison. The views across the harbor were so stunning, we pulled over at every opportunity and just stared.
Dropping down off the caldera to the north, we ended up in the little coastal town of Sumner, where we spent the night. It’s basically a beachy-feeling suburb of Christchurch. Right in the middle of the beach sits a monstrous rock in which the waves have carved out a cave. Supposedly the Maori who came here centuries ago used it when they fished the area.
Day 58 – Jan. 29 –Christchurch layover day
We’d heard lots of raves about Christchurch, many people’s favorite town. We moved from Sumner into the heart of town so we could walk everywhere. The first place we hit was the Botanic Gardens, through which the shallow Avon River flows. In olden times the flat-bottomed cargo ships plied these waters, hauling goods into the interior of the country, but today it’s full of ducks (millions of them gorging on the bread tossed to them from the bridges by the tourists), gondolas being pushed along by (badly) singing gondoliers who are Italian opera star wanna-bees, and first-time kayakers who keep running headlong into the banks in their inexperience.
Also in the gardens was a festival in which all sorts of people with all sorts of talents (some questionable) were showing them off in different parts of the park. Kids were crowded around on the ground in front of some young women who were entertaining them with silly antics that the kids loved. Another lady folded herself up into a box about 2 feet on a side.
After sitting in an outdoor restaurant right next to the kayak rental place, watching all the soaked kayakers climbing back onto the dock, laughing all the way. Nothing for us to do but rent one, and an hour later, we, too, unfolded our bodies, soaked to the skin from the dripping paddles, and walked back to our motel to change clothes.
Anybody going to Antarctica leaves from Christchurch, and right next to the airport is a fabulous Antarctic Center (Centre to Kiwis). Inside are tiny blue penguins in a setting that’s supposed to look like a world of ice, but doesn’t really. There are about 10 of these cute little animals, all of whom have been rescued from near-death, rather than having been captured specifically for this exhibit. One little bird is blind, and barely moves, just sits on a rock with its eyes closed. Another has arthritis so badly it can hardly walk, and when it does, it is in obvious pain. Another has some neurosis that causes it to swim frantically in circles in the big tub of water, slashing at its back with its beak until the feathers (hairs?) are nearly gone. In spite of their disabilities, they were fascinating to watch from such close range, and their waddling, hunch-backed walk was laughable.
As we wandered around town (before we got soaking wet), we kept looking for the reason so many people call this their favorite town. We saw a lot of buildings of British design, that made us feel as if we were in Cambridge or London. But we are clueless as to why this city captures the hearts of so many, as it didn’t do that to us.
After yet another dinner of Indian food, we were looking for a place to grab an ice cream cone and 4 young studmuffins came towards us, all licking cones. I asked them where they got them, and we found out that they were based in Tacoma, of all places, and were flying out in the morning to Antarctica. They would land, spend about 30 minutes on the ice, take some pictures, then, without even turning off the engines since they might not get them started again, turn the plane around and head right back to ChCh (how Kiwis spell it).
We didn’t do anything today of note. Joe finally got his swim in a warm ocean, and stayed in the water for at least an hour. I read the paper and watched what seemed to be thousands of runners jog past our window during a triathlon. Before they ran this leg, they kayaked out in the bay, then afterwards bicycled some number of miles. All while I read the paper.
Day 55 – Jan. 26 –Timaru to Akaroa
Along the fairways in Timaru are small, inexpensive houses, with goats and sheep in the back yards. Right in town. That is pretty common, small back yards in the middle of town being used as pasture for animals. And we often run into cows and sheep being herded along the backroads, eating down the grass between the road and the fences. Cuts down on the mowing expenses for the road crews.
In the small village of Geraldine stands a little shop with a sandwich board outside proclaiming that inside is the world’s largest jersey. I imagine most people drive on by without giving it a thought. They have missed a small miracle. It’s not a jersey cow, it’s a knitted sweater hanging on the wall of huge dimensions. But that’s not the miracle – it’s the husband of the woman who knitted it. He is one of the world’s living geniuses but you don’t learn this by reading a certificate on the wall screaming his IQ. (I have no idea what his IQ is, but it’s in the stratosphere.) We discovered this genius by spending 2 hours with him and learning how his mind works and what he’s accomplished in his 50 or so years on earth.
Using millions of tiny teeth from wool carding machines (or some sort of wool-making device), he has created a mosaic of the Bayeux Tapestry, just like the one in Bayeux, France, of the same dimensions. After gluing millions of those 1/8th of an inch metal teeth onto a sheet of some sort of backing, he then painted them the same colors as the original tapestry. The original tapestry is missing a number of panels, so he researched the history of that time and came up with a credible scenario, designed some more panels, and, more teeth, glue, and paint, he created the ‘missing panels’. It is several hundred feet long, and wraps around his ‘museum’ about 5 times, so to read the entire ‘tapestry’, you walk around the walls 5 times.
As if that weren’t enough for a lifetime, his churning mind has come up with a number of games and puzzles. Some use pieces that you manipulate around and fit together on a table. Others are computer games that could occupy you for the rest of your life.
He’s also put the entire tapestry on the computer. You can click on any object on the entire thing – a bird, horse, person, farm implement, ship, weapon – and the entire history of it, including the genealogy of a person, will be displayed. He has dozens of reference books he’s used to create all this, many of which are practically one of a kind. We spent 2 hours picking his brain and came away knowing we had been in the presence of a true genius.
After leaving Geraldine, we just headed straight for Akaroa, covering about 120 kilometers, 75 miles, one of our biggest driving days ever. That doesn’t seem like much by US standards, but because there’s so much to see and do in such a small space, we don’t cover much ground in a day.
Akaroa is at the far eastern end of a peninsula that is the drowned crater of an extinct volcano. The drive down into the town from the edge of the caldera is winding, steep, and beautiful. Found a lovely hotel right on the bay, and went exploring on foot through the town. Didn’t take very long to see it all. Our hotel had a mediocre restaurant, so we grabbed a table with an umbrella on the sidewalk and settled in to watch the tourists stroll by on this lovely evening.
A man and woman strolled by, his T-shirt emblazoned with ‘Same shirt, different day’. We could relate, sometimes wearing the same clothes several times before washing them, so we commented on it, they stopped for a chat, and soon joined us for dinner. They were from a town near the island of Sylt, in northern Germany near where we spent Christmas of 2007. He’s retired from Merck after 30 years, and they’ve lived in Cherry Hills, NJ, and South Africa, so their English was very good.
Day 56 – Jan. 27 –Akaroa layover day
We’d planned to go out on a boat to see dolphins and whales, but we woke up to rain and choppy waters, so the boats were not running. Even if they had been, you couldn’t have gotten me on one for all the lamb in NZ. So we just did other touristy things – went to the little museum, which had a big exhibit of one of the town’s sons, the man who was the captain of Ernest Shackleton’s ship Endurance, as well as the little boat he piloted to Elephant Island to get help for the men stranded on the ice back in the Antarctic. They claim he is the person responsible for not a single man being lost. May be.
We took a drive up onto the rim of the caldera from which we could look down on the misty waters of the lovely Akaroa harbor and its islands. At one point I got sleepy and we pulled off the road for me to take a nap, while Joe wandered down the narrow little road. He met up with a man from Ipswich, England, and they found out they had identical political interests, so they had a lively discussion. When I met up with them, his wife had joined up with them, too, and we stood in the cold and wind excitedly discussing politics until they saw that I was shivering so badly I could hardly talk. We then drove back into town and finished our conversation over hot chocolate beside a fire in a cozy pub.
We’d made arrangements to meet our German friends from last night for dinner tonight at a wonderful French restaurant, C’est la Vie. All over the walls, floors, and ceilings were scribblings by thousands of patrons. There was no place for us to write anything without covering up somebody else’s musings, but I found enough place on a piece of quarter round to write ‘Bye, Bush, Go, Obama!’ since he was inaugurated just a week ago. We ordered pork and beef fillet and that was the finest, tastiest meal we’ve had in all of NZ. As we were leaving, in came our Ipswich friends, so we had another couple of minutes’ visit with them.
Day 57 – Jan. 28 –Akaroa to Sumner/Christchurch
Up early and out to Akaroa’s golf course, where today is Opening Day. Turns out that golf is a winter sport here, not a summer sport. That’s because it is usually very dry here in summer and the fairways and greens get hard as concrete, making for high scores. Sort of the opposite of our winters, in which the wet muck drives our scores up. So every couple in Akaroa who plays golf was out in full force, clogging the fairways. They were all paired up, so, once again, we played alone. But we kept bumping up against the people in front of us and behind us, and by the end of the 18, we’d become good enough friends to be invited to have drinks with them after the round.
The road out of Akaroa climbs steeply up the sides of the caldera and at the very top, with incredible views, sits a restaurant. Their hamburgers don’t equal the views, though, so unless you like mush between white buns, don’t order one there.
Lyttleton Harbor, north of Akaroa, also sits in a steep-sided, drowned caldera, left behind when a volcano blew its top. Ships leave from here to go to Antarctica, and a long line of boats of all sorts, mostly HUGE, were steaming in and out of the harbor, some escorted by tug boats that looked like ants by comparison. The views across the harbor were so stunning, we pulled over at every opportunity and just stared.
Dropping down off the caldera to the north, we ended up in the little coastal town of Sumner, where we spent the night. It’s basically a beachy-feeling suburb of Christchurch. Right in the middle of the beach sits a monstrous rock in which the waves have carved out a cave. Supposedly the Maori who came here centuries ago used it when they fished the area.
Day 58 – Jan. 29 –Christchurch layover day
We’d heard lots of raves about Christchurch, many people’s favorite town. We moved from Sumner into the heart of town so we could walk everywhere. The first place we hit was the Botanic Gardens, through which the shallow Avon River flows. In olden times the flat-bottomed cargo ships plied these waters, hauling goods into the interior of the country, but today it’s full of ducks (millions of them gorging on the bread tossed to them from the bridges by the tourists), gondolas being pushed along by (badly) singing gondoliers who are Italian opera star wanna-bees, and first-time kayakers who keep running headlong into the banks in their inexperience.
Also in the gardens was a festival in which all sorts of people with all sorts of talents (some questionable) were showing them off in different parts of the park. Kids were crowded around on the ground in front of some young women who were entertaining them with silly antics that the kids loved. Another lady folded herself up into a box about 2 feet on a side.
After sitting in an outdoor restaurant right next to the kayak rental place, watching all the soaked kayakers climbing back onto the dock, laughing all the way. Nothing for us to do but rent one, and an hour later, we, too, unfolded our bodies, soaked to the skin from the dripping paddles, and walked back to our motel to change clothes.
Anybody going to Antarctica leaves from Christchurch, and right next to the airport is a fabulous Antarctic Center (Centre to Kiwis). Inside are tiny blue penguins in a setting that’s supposed to look like a world of ice, but doesn’t really. There are about 10 of these cute little animals, all of whom have been rescued from near-death, rather than having been captured specifically for this exhibit. One little bird is blind, and barely moves, just sits on a rock with its eyes closed. Another has arthritis so badly it can hardly walk, and when it does, it is in obvious pain. Another has some neurosis that causes it to swim frantically in circles in the big tub of water, slashing at its back with its beak until the feathers (hairs?) are nearly gone. In spite of their disabilities, they were fascinating to watch from such close range, and their waddling, hunch-backed walk was laughable.
As we wandered around town (before we got soaking wet), we kept looking for the reason so many people call this their favorite town. We saw a lot of buildings of British design, that made us feel as if we were in Cambridge or London. But we are clueless as to why this city captures the hearts of so many, as it didn’t do that to us.
After yet another dinner of Indian food, we were looking for a place to grab an ice cream cone and 4 young studmuffins came towards us, all licking cones. I asked them where they got them, and we found out that they were based in Tacoma, of all places, and were flying out in the morning to Antarctica. They would land, spend about 30 minutes on the ice, take some pictures, then, without even turning off the engines since they might not get them started again, turn the plane around and head right back to ChCh (how Kiwis spell it).
No comments:
Post a Comment