climbing mount Herbert

As a last training for our upcoming Christmas tramp, we conquered Mount Herbert last weekend. Herbie lies practically in the backyard, and is again part of an old volcanic complex. It is the highest peak of the Banks peninsula at 919 meters, and offers fine views of the place we call home.

The ascent was through one long sheep and cow paddock. I am generally a big fan of sheeps, but this may have been a bit much. 

Nevertheless, the views were fantastic, and hard to bring out in photos, 

 

and the descent was through more exciting patches of native bush and non-native gorse. Gorse is very prickly.

The good thing about climbing a mountain close to civilization is to be rewarded with an amazing iced mocha afterwards in a funky restyled container post-earthquake style. 

bonus question: where does this door lead to? Everybody we met here went through the door, although there was no obstruction to go around it. After Thomas went through the door, I hesitated, but decided not to risk ending up in another paralel universe, and also went through the door. Slightly spooky.

Otago Rail Trail

After Easter we worked 2 (hectic) days before setting off again. As I said before, it very often feels as if we are indeed on an extended holiday in NZ and real life is happening somewhere else.

Anyway, this time we drove South to Otago – the only region in NZ with a continental climate, world-famous in NZ for its fruit and wine. They also had a gold rush and build a railway to haul out all the gold. Or rather the sheep that proved to be more profitable (“Home of your Icebreaker”). But as with all things that seemed like a good idea at the time the railway was abandoned in favour of car-traffic. Because we all know that cars are a much more sustainable mode of transport. Luckily the department of conservation decided to turn the former railway into a cycle track, against the better judgment of many locals who thought that putting more sheep on the track would definitely bring in more money.

As it turned out though, lots of people with money bring in their expensive bikes and cycle the trail, on the way leaving heaps of money for accommodation, lunch, dinner, and coffee and ice cream. Now everybody is happy, perhaps with the exception of the few sheep who escape from their paddock and freak out by all the cyclists happily yelling “baaah!” at them.

We drove to Clyde, taking our time, and mounted our bikes the next morning for the 150 km trail, to be completed in 3 days (which is on average really fast, most people take 4 or 5 days to enjoy the trail to the fullest).

We got this very practical bike rack for the car. Although I much much prefer it over the racks on top of your car, it is always slightly scary to have bikes hanging from your car

Otago is known for its crisp sunny climate, and we were not disappointed (it is also known for fierce gales later in the season, which, as we learned, blew away some early post offices and other dwellings).
We had consciously decided to do the trail in autumn, to enjoy the bright yellow leaves of (introduced, exotic, evil) poplar and willow trees.
The trail itself is an endless source of information on the railway, the gold mining, flora and fauna and other interesting details, so that you are constantly entertained. The little towns on the way are cute and it feels as if you’re 100 years back in time. You only pass sleepy towns and small country roads, so for 3 days we were in cycle heaven. Being on your bike the whole day, sun in your face and fresh air all around is such a lovely experience.

We stayed at 2 B&B’s on the way, the first in an old mill-house, the second in an old miner’s cottage. Both very characteristic and picturesque.

At the end of the trail we were driven back to our car at the beginning of the trail by a company that puts everybody and their bikes in/on a bus and in 2 hours you’re back where you started. We drove back home the next day, after having bought 12 bottles of our favourite Otago fruit juice and a box of plums.

Restarting Christchurch, and the real New Zealand

Although this blog recently evolved mostly around tramping and crazily beautiful natural landscapes, we have also experienced some more city life and agricultural sentiments recently.

Some weeks ago a part of the inner city re-opened with a so-called “container mall”. Which is much, much nicer than it sounds. Before all the quakes Cashel street mall was one of the nicest streets in Chch, with lots of little shops, trees, flowers, benches and – gasp – no cars. It was one of the very few pedestrian areas in urban New Zealand that I know of anyway. So, it wasn’t a mall in the sense of a big ugly building filled with chain stores, but just a nice street to hang out in. Then most buildings there collapsed, people died and it was cordoned off. However, as we are approaching Christmas season (apparently, it doesn’t feel like it…), it was decided that to lift the spirit of Christchurch people, to provide a bit of retail therapy, and no doubt for certain shops to benefit from Christmas sales, some containers would be placed in Cashel street with shops in them and we all could go shopping.

You may notice a hint of sarcasm in the previous sentences. Healing a broken city with consumerism didn’t really appeal to me and most people I know. But it turned out to be a really fantastic initiative.

Above: Cashel street in May, cordoned off and still full of rubble
Below: Cashel street as it is now. Where the containers and empty space is, used to be buildings. The big building in the background is being demolished right now

It was a bit spooky and sad as well.
After more than 6 months you are back in the heart of the city and you hardly recognize it. So many buildings have been demolished, there are so many empty spaces and you don’t remember what was there at all. Most of the city is still inaccessible and the demolition continues. And then in the middle of all that are these colourful containers, flower containers, music, laughter and liveliness. But also everybody standing still in the middle of it, looking around with a bewildered look on their faces, trying to remember what was, appreciating what now is, and trying to put it all together. Even for us, who haven’t been here very long and have very few memories of the inner city, it is still quite emotional.

"Before" (above) and after (below)

The shops in the containers were all handpicked and seem mostly “kiwi owned” to stimulate local economy, and no chains. They were rather expensive, but nice to browse through and diverse. Also 2 coffee shops have tables on top of the containers where you have a nice view of the whole street.
Apparently a city in the UK also had the idea of opening a container mall, and they are now angry because Chch stole the idea. To which one can only bitterly reply “want to have your own earthquake?!”.



Something else that brought normality and fun back to Chch was the A&P show (Agriculture & Pasture). This yearly event is by many called something along the lines of “the real New Zealand”. After all, thinking of New Zealand, one’s thoughts very soon revolve around sheep in green pastures. Also, the show brings together a lot of very “real” New Zealanders. The uber-friendly, incomprehensible, ungroomed type.

We went to this event as a German delegation (and me obviously) and heard a lot of “Have a great time in NZ! So nice of you to come here! Enjoy our country!”.

As someone who has previously experienced almost exclusively the urban life, the dominant agricultural theme at the show was somewhat of a novelty. The display of monstruous machinery was very impressive, but of course the thousands of sheep and other lifestock were the highlight. The different breeds of sheep so interesting, the show of dogs herding sheep so much fun,



and totally mind-blowing the sheep shearing competition: Australia - New Zealand (we were unsure who won, but it was AMAZING)

A rather negative experience was the New Zealand hot dog, which is a completely tasteless sausage in even more tasteless dough, covered in really awful red sauce. You can’t have it all.

Life-Cycle in Amsterdam

Thomas suggested I title this blog post “Why did I leave Amsterdam?”.

The answers to that question are: Amsterdam is dirty and noisy, people yell and curse and complain about everything all the time, summers are always rainy, the metroline is still not finished, there is no job for me, and how would I ever find/finance a house with a garden.

Nevertheless all my expat friends around the world ask me in their emails to “please stop torturing us with your ‘Amsterdam-is-so-great’ stories, we are getting seriously homesick”.

During my 2 weeks in Amsterdam a lot happened.
Went to 2 funerals, therefore saw a lot of family and people I hadn’t seen in a long time and went back in time whenever a “ghost from the past” materialized at these occasions.

We celebrated a bachelorette party by bike in pink – and I am SOOOOO sad I can’t make it to the wedding.
Amsterdam being what it is, is a very popular place for bachelor parties, so we ran into a good deal of them when we were in pink, but I also met a group Kazakhstani guys on a train wearing matching red t-shirts saying “TOUCH ME”. They started chatting to 3 Dutch girls, only to learn that Amsterdam was at that moment swarmed by the Gay Pride. The girls giggled “You will get a lot of attention with your t-shirts!”.

I worked hard on my presentation for the conference in Prague next week, and visited the university for a day of microscope work. Again back in time, chatting to all my old profs and friends.
Hilarious microscope Prof: “They fired me last year”.
Me: “ehm, isn’t it called “retirement”?”
Prof, looking extremely bitter: “That’s the same thing really”.

Lots, and I mean LOTS of coffee, tea, champagne (oh dear, too much champagne), lunches, dinners, drinks, snacks with friends and family. Even managed to go dancing twice, our 31 year old bodies protesting a little bit against certain moves but still able to dance the night away.
So strange being part of everyone’s life again for 2 weeks.

As it is in life, people die, people get married, and children get born. We were just in time to see a wonderful little lady a day after she was born. So cute!

It was incredible how all these things happened in just 2 weeks. The whole life-cycle. I am happy I could be part of it all, the sadness and the happiness. The same things happen in Christchurch, but it is different when it isn’t your hometown. New Zealand doesn’t seem to exist here, I can hardly imagine I have a house, a job, a life there. Luckily I take my time going back there – “home” – so maybe by that time I’ve come to terms with the distance again.