Day 7: In the night of day 7 I have finally decided to settle down and blog, in the absence of tight schedules, van trips, kiddy distractions and impulses to shop (I have run out of money). The previous 6 days have been long, because the van and coach trips were long. The time spent in the wilds, interacting with local people and local birds etc. was preciously short, sadly speaking.
Today was spent in Christchurch's cultural precint, the bohemian heartlands of South Island. Spent the afternoon lubbing around town like a layabout, because I had visited the Art Gallery (twice), Arts Centre, CoCA, the Canterbury Museum and the Botanical Gardens before in day 5. Besides, I had run out of money.
Had fun out of whatever social contact I could establish. When I couldn't, I had fun watching the folks play chess at the giant chestboard in Cathedral square.
The Europeans that one meets in NZ, in general, are friendlier and more warm-hearted than your usual Anglo-Saxon. They are almost always easy to talk to, and their accent amusing and soothing. The German bratwurst seller at the Arts Centre is a nice guy. And so was Cyrielle, the French girl I met on the whalewatching boat. The German waiter at Kaikoura was nice too, although it was hard for me to conjecture how a German would have landed a job like this in such a place.
Day 6: Day 6 was spent on a day-trip to Kaikoura. Kaikoura means eat-crayfish and true enow, I got to eat crayfish. Mom's complaints on the non-freshness of crayfish notwithstanding, I was happy as long as it was served with tartar.
The seas were rough on the day we took the whalewatching boat over the underwater Kaikoura Canyon and the passengers spotted only 5 sperm whales who scurried away unhurriedly as we drew near.
I also found the French (Ardéchois) girl called Cyrielle who, after ~20 minutes of sitting beside me and not talking, shattered the ice at first opportunity. She was (and still is) on an 8-month holiday globetrotting, from S. America to NZ to Australia to Indonesia, Singapore, Taiwan, Nepal etc. with her parents.
What about school? I asked. Ach, home-schooling was what she swore by, that lucky wommon.
She was struggling in English, but drawing on a notebook and my infantile French got the conversation chugging along quite nicely all the way ashore.
On an unrelated note, I was reminded that lack of social interaction can be terribly suffocating, yet breaking the coccon of introversion is also hard.
I have been walled up in home and van confines for long enough!
"It is God's calling for Catholics to reach out to others!" proclaims Father Richards.
In my last days in Christchurch and thereafter in Singapore, I must follow this philosophy to the best of my ability.
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