To Christchurch - 15 April 2009 continued
Jun. 3rd, 2009 08:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skyring
Alkaline-kiwi and Earok were waiting for us. This was the last time we’d all be together as a group before being submerged into the general convention, so Kevin and I assembled tripods for a group shot, carefully lining up the best backgrounds.
When we were ready, we found we were missing one. MissMarkey wasn’t lolling around waiting for we two nerds to get our photographic equipment in order, oh no, she was a distant figure strolling along the water’s edge!
Earok went haring off across the sand to get her, and while we waited for their return, we were accosted. By a young lady in BookCrossing gear, wanting to know if we were of the same kind.
This turned out to be Ganescha from Austria, touring the South Island with her husband before hitting the convention. We smiled and greeted her, and of course I seized the chance of a hug. We filled her full of enthusiasm for the whale cruise, and she exulted over the beauty of New Zealand.
I’ve not visited Austria yet, but I know that there are some very pretty parts indeed. Just watching Sound of Music is enough.
She smiled and said goodbye, we lined up along the path, arranged ourselves in smiles for the timed shots, swapped cameras onto tripods and then rearranged our luggage. I was taking Alkaline-kiwi and Earok to a relative’s house in the Christchurch suburbs before checking into my hotel, while the others would drive directly to the hostel where they were to share a bunk room.
I’d have to do some car-shuffling in Christchurch, because the blue Holden I was driving would need to be returned to the rental agency tomorrow morning, and I’d be keeping the silver Falcon Kevin was now driving. I’d have to be sharpish about it, too, because we were going to be meeting some other BookCrossers for an earlybirds dinner.
After Kaikoura we travelled along the coast for some time, ocean on the left, mountains on the right, New Zealand’s green immediateness of hills, farms, small forests and towns a dappling afternoon drive through paradise.
Soon enough we were inland on flatter, more intensively settled plains. Vineyards and tree-hedges. Mountains in the distance instead of leaning cheerfully in through the window. Whales behind, Christchurch ahead, delightful passengers aboard – I’m a happy cabbie.
Text messages came in from Newk, relaying Libertine, who had arrived at the hostel in Christchurch to find that the promised communal booking had been split up, and everyone would be bunking with strangers. None of us in my car were actually staying at the hostel, so we passed the message on to the other car, doubtless causing some unhappy words to be expressed.
Gathering dusk and the beginning of a motorway. New Zealand has only a few kilometres of what other nations would call freeways. Most roads are one lane each way – if that! – but traffic densities are low and passing lanes frequent enough. Only the four large cities have motorways. I think Dunedin has five kilometres worth.
Wanda was giving me directions now, and soon enough we peeled out of the main line into comfortable suburbs, gold and amber trees dripping leaves in the headlights onto trim lawns. A dark street, searching for house numbers. In my cab, I’d reach down to flick on the side lights, sending a searchlight beam to light up letterboxes, but in this rental car we were reduced to peering into the glooming.
Finally we found the place, I nosed into the tight driveway, and there were lights on, doors opening, words of greeting and unloading of luggage. And then I was alone in the city, hunting for a service station to fill the car before returning it. Mind you, the time had slipt away in the day, and the rental place was probably closed by now.
My last trip to Christchurch was three years in the past, and I had only a foggy notion of the layout of the central city streets. I knew there was a ferocious one-way system to trap up the unwary, I knew there was Cathedral Square smack in the middle, and the River Avon winding through parkland.
Luckily the backpackers was on Cathedral Square, but it took me several battles with oneway streets and bus lanes before I found it. I was kind of hoping the silver Falcon would be parked ready for me, with Kevin to help me drive to the rental agency, but no such luck. By now we were well late for our dinner, and I had yet to find my hotel and checkin.
Discoverylover and MissMarkey appeared, saying Kevin was busy parking the car, and eventually he turned up, stressed from the hassle of finding an evening park in a strange city. I suspected that he’d been fighting his own battles with the one way sysyem.
I let him be to go check in and relax, while I set about finding the Falcon. More hassle with unfamiliar streets that turned out to be one way – the wrong way – before I located it. Wanda was not a lot of help during this process, I might add, and she spent a lot of her time being very huffy with me as I repeatedly ignored her instructions to make a right turn into oncoming traffic.
Hmmm. The Falcon was one car in an unbroken line of parked vehicles, and I had to swap my Commodore into the space, transfer my luggage and drive off. Luckily my taxidriver skills and a useful lane came in handy, but there was one stage where I had one car parked in the lane, the other on the footpath, and if someone had come along to snaffle the temporarily vacant space, I would have had to strangle the driver and find another slot to hide his unwelcome car.
But it all worked out, I found my way around a new set of switches and was off to my hotel. Once upon a time I would have sat down with the owner’s manual, laid my hands on all the controls for lights, wipers and so on, but nowadays I’d drive twenty different cars in two or three different countries in any given year, and apart from occasionally indicating lane changes with my wipers, I do okay. Besides, I didn’t have any time to fiddle with the bits.
I parked at the hotel, checked in, dropped my bags in the room – very nice room with a view over the park – and was off. I got the concierge to call me a cab, and paced to and fro while I waited for it. I had visions of my dinner companions working their way through coffee and dessert, and each minute seemed a dozen.
In hindsight, I could have walked there quicker and cheaper, but I was worried about getting lost, and I never worry about supporting the local taxi industry. It wasn’t a long ride, the lady driver was pleasant, and I gave her a fat tip for a short fare.
Here was the restaurant, and here was Otakuu waiting outside.
Otakuu! How I love her! I could fill a book with tales about her. Maori and Pakeha, she is the personification of the people of the nation, linked through blood and marriage to half the country, and the land itself is in her bones. I remember in London, at the New Zealand High Commission on Haymarket, we waited in the foyer, where a magnificent Maori wood carving stood over us. Otakuu ran her hands over it and talked to the spirit of the wood, and the heart of the craftsman who had carved its intricate details.
I have never in my life met anybody more in touch with the spiritual and emotional side of life. Otakuu sees the world through different eyes, and passes on her impressions to the rest of us. Maori or English words, it doesn’t matter – when she speaks, everyone listens, because it is important.
I hugged her with my arms and my heart, not wanting to let her go ever again.
Lytteltonwitch had to prise us apart, lest we be standing there still in each other’s arms. I gave Lytteltonwitch a heartfelt hug too. She was one of the first New Zealand BookCrossers in my life, when I visited Christchurch in 2003. I was fresh and raw, already Australia’s leading BookCrosser in terms of books registered and released, but my jaw just dropped open at the amazing feats of Lytteltonwitch. Not to mention her fellow Christchurchers. I had hundreds, but they had thousands. “It started off as friendly competition,” Lytteltonwitch confessed, “and then it just got out of control.”
By the time they had sorted out who was New Zealand’s top BookCrosser, the streets, park benches, coffee shops and monuments of Christchurch were knee deep in free books and New Zealand had established a per-capita lead no other country could hope to match.
Lytteltonwitch was there at my first ever BookCrossing convention in Sydney. 2004 and she had just had fairly major surgery, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. Since then she has beaten off cancer with a stick and she has my eternal admiration for overcoming that evil killer. She is wise, fun-loving, full of energy and creativity, and she is one of my heroes.
She led the way inside. Ginkgo is a fairly swanky Chinese restaurant, and we travellers seemed a little out of place. A bit too boisterous, a bit too casually dressed. But having fun. Newk from Adelaide had organised this dinner, and if there was one word that summed Newk up, it was fun.
I’d first met Newk at that Sydney convention, and from the moment we met and started sharing jokes, we clicked. He was one of the few other BookCrossing men, and his sense of humour was, if anything, more broader and earthier than my own. Just being in the same room was like having a party, and we’d shared jokes and good meals across Australia and the world.
He has a genius for finding amazing boutique hotels, and I was wishing that I’d followed his lead here, because his hotel was barely a block away from the convention venue and the rate included free wireless internet and breakfast, both vital components of a BookCrossing life.
“Pete, mate!” he stood up to give me an embrace. “Look, I’ve been trying to get Rarsberry here to talk and come over to the dark side, and it’s tough going. I need a hand.”
Rarsberry is pretty much the exact opposite of Newk in every way, and I could see how he might be finding her a chore. She’s tall and quiet and earnest, and she needs subtle handling to get a smile going.
But it’s worthwhile when it happens.
I first met Rars in Dunedin, when my wife and I spent a few days in that delightful city before driving up to the BookCrossing convention in Christchurch. We’d met the local BookCrossers at a pizza place and over microbrewed beer and gourmet pizza, she told us that she was going up to Christchurch as well. It didn’t seem reasonable that she should have to take a bus, so we organised for her to keep us company in our rental car.
The next morning, she showed up with her boyfriend, and once we’d prised them apart and were on our way, she spent the whole drive swapping texts with him every time there was a bit of mobile phone coverage. Kerri and I rolled our eyes at each other. Young love!
And now, several years later, she’s married her sweetie. I’m a hopeful romantic, but Rarsberry and her husband are hopeless. I’ve never seen a couple so much in love.
I didn’t bother trying to get Rars out of her shell. She’s quiet and earnest and a tireless convention committee worker. I’m happy just to sit and be comfortable with her, and maybe, every now and then, get a grin. We’ve shared books and toy kiwis, journals and Bookcrossing rambles, bus rides and bookshops across New Zealand and she knows what presses my buttons every bit as much as Newk does. Besides, she’s a lot more fun to hug.
Newk poured me a glass of red. “Drink up,” he said. “That’s the only bottle. Had a bit of an accident on the flight over.”
He comes from South Australia, where they take their wine seriously, and I’ve known him to bring his own wine halfway around the world to a BYO restaurant, rather than drink the local muck.
I raised my glass to him and to Sherlockfan, sharing the table. She was freshly down from Wellington. On the plane rather than on our enchanted roadtrip, and much as I love flying, I wished she’d tagged along – she would have had more fun, and I’d have had the pleasure of her company.
Another early arrival was Miketroll from Wales. And his wife MrsTroll. And their son KomradRikardo, who lived in New Zealand. Miketroll is retired from government service, and has a keen eye for cheap fares and cut price cruises. He is a traveller’s traveller, a cruiser’s cruiser, and he had advised me last year when taking my own first ocean cruise. “Once you start,” he said, “you can’t stop.”
Not that I wanted to. The problem is finding time and money. I’d cheerfully spend the rest of my life aboard cruise ships, just watching a succession of exotic ports slide past my balcony.
He’s as much into conventions as I am, and we’d attended BookCrossing gatherings together on three continents now. He’s funny, warm, generous, thoughtful and possessed of a keen sense of humour.
His wife is a BookCrossing spouse. She comes along, but she doesn’t share the passion for leaving books scattered around random cities for total strangers to find. Fair enough. She’s quiet and smiling and beautiful. Miketroll is a lucky man.
KomradRikardo is a perfect mix of his parents. Tall, dark and handsome, and single, he’s sitting pretty in the mainly female world of BookCrossing. I hadn’t met him before, but he smiled at me and raised his glass, and I resolved to spend some time with him.
Newk took his bright lime green hat off and placed it on Libertine101’s head. This reminded me. “Hey, Newk! Classy joint like this, you should be wearing your suit!”
Newk’s suit was the stuff of legend. Bright and green, it was the most unlikely set of clothes imaginable. You’d need to be a special sort of person to put it on, let alone wear it out in public. Newk not only had done both, he’d found accessories to go with it. Matching hat, tie and mankini.
“Um, there was a spot of bother with the suit. Got red wine all over it.”
Fair enough. Go out drinking in a bright green suit, anything could happen.
Libertine is the perfect madam librarian. She lives in Perth, so she’s a bit off my beaten track, but she’s worth flying across the continent for, and I generally get to see her once or twice a year. She’s crazy about books and cats, two very big ticks in my book, and she’s another person who knows what buttons to press with me to get me smiling. An off-beat, edgy sense of humour and of life. She’s also got an amazing knack of knowing just where to turn up with a camera when Newk and I are being silly, as we so often are.
Over the course of the weekend she got to wear Newk’s lime green hat, lime green tie, and while I don’t know about the mankini, I’d pay serious money to see her attempt it.
This was her first international trip, and while I’d offered to hold her hand through the rigours of security, immigration, the Qantas lounge system and our road-trip, she’d instead chosen to fly with the Trolls, who had steered her through the long flights with practised ease. I generally get held up when my baggage is x-raid and they call me over to explain all the soft organic shadows revealed in my luggage. “Tim Tams,” I explain. “Yes,” they reply, “but so many! These surely can’t be for personal use.”
Newk pricked up his ears at the mention of luggage. “I had a problem with mine when I picked it off the carousel,” he said. “It was dripping red liquid. One of my wine bottles had broken, even though I’d carefully wrapped my green suit around them.”
Ah. I still couldn’t see why this would preclude wearing it, though. Any change in colour would have to be an improvement.
The dinner was in full swing, I forgot to mention. I’d waved at Discoverylover at the other table as I came in. I’d missed the entrees, but the mains were coming around in swift rotation, served onto the lazy susans, and swiftly consumed. Excellent tucker!
One dish came around. Spicey chicken. Yum. I loaded up my plate and took a few incautious mouthfuls.
“Spicey” turned out to be an understatement. I quickly drained my wineglass, refilled it with water from the carafe on the table, and when steam started coming from my ears, looked for more water. Luckily the other table still had some water in their carafe, so I drained that, and for good measure gave them the spicey chicken dish. It was really burny, and I didn’t want to accidentally get another mouthful.
Returning to my seat, I smiled at Awaywithfairies, dimly visible across the table. Noises of outrage and dismay were coming from the other table, and I leaned closer to hear her. She speaks softly, I’m half deaf, and I spend a lot of time straining.
Awaywithfairies spends a lot of time travelling. Never know where she’ll be releasing books. She’ll pop off to the other side of the continent for the weekend, drop a dozen books on a hostel swapshelf and be back home on Monday while her books take off and whip around the world. I remember once seeing her in Canberra. I was on the top floor of the Canberra Centre, near the Borders, she was on the bottom. I leant over the railing and shouted out, “Awaywithfairies!!” Everyone in the whole bloody shopping centre looked at me. Everyone but her.
I’ve attended Australian and New Zealand conventions with Awaywithfairies since the first Sydney one. It’s nice to know there’s someone sharing the passion.
Over on the other table, Futurecat was feeling no pain. She’s been raised on spicey food and this was just keeping her mouth warm. Futurecat because when chatting online with people in the rest of the world, it would always be her Monday to their Sunday, she’d hit the weekend ahead of everybody else and she always seemed like someone from the future. The cat part came from her love of cats. Female catstroking booklovers – that’s BookCrossers in a nutshell.
Futurecat is generously fitted out in feminine curves. Just quietly, but she’s a delight to hug. She’s a superb organiser, and along with Lytteltonwitch, Rarsberry, Otakuu, Sherlockfan and a few others, has been the driving force between every one of the excellent New Zealand BookCrossing conventions. It hardly needs adding that she’s thoughtful, generous, deep and fun-loving.
Gizmopuddy, sitting beside Discoverylover, was in the running for the furtherest-travelled-to-get-here award. From Dublin.
She’s high on my list for coolest BookCrosser ever. Not only is she dramatically gorgeous, with flashing eyes and jet black hair, she’s got the most sensuous Irish accent – she could read the classified ads out of the paper and it would be pure aural sex – and she’s in the Robin Hood league as an archer. She dances with spirit and grace as I discovered in Birmingham, and though she didn’t do the Charleston in Charleston, she was extraordinarily good company when a dozen of us drained the convention hotel of cherry cocktails one Saturday night.
Her infectious humour and energy makes for a merry BookCrossing companion, and I was extremely pleased that she had decided to make the flight out to New Zealand. She and her husband had been touring in a campervan, and were full of praise for the extraordinary beauty of the place. “Where are you staying?” someone asked her, and she replied, “Oh, we’re sleeping on the streets.”
Of course, this is easy enough to do in a campervan, and not quite the hardship one might imagine!
Dinner progressed smoothly and cheerfully. Desserts were ordered, the last few glasses of wine drained, and we looked up to see that we were the last diners in the restaurant. Thanking the staff for an excellent meal, we headed out into the cooling evening.
I walked with some of the hostel dwellers back to Base Backpackers on Cathedral Square. Wednesday night, and there was still some action around. A flautist busked outside the Cathedral, and as our laughing group approached, he began “Teddy Bears’ Picnic”.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out RingBear, holding him up for the busker to see. His fluting faltered and stopped. “I can’t play and laugh at the same time!” he spluttered.
I found a couple of golden coins for him – he’d given me a laugh to round off the night – and wished my companions a good night a few paces further on, outside the hostel.
My hotel was a few blocks on, half the distance being through a park square and over a bridge. Entering my hotel through the rear entrance, I passed the restaurant and bar, other guests filling the tables and having a fine old time.
But for me, it was high time to fall into bed. I had another big day on the morrow, joining several of my fellow BookCrossers for the TranzAlpine train trip over the Southern Alps to the West Coast town of Greymouth, and then back again in time for another dinner.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-06-03 11:25 am (UTC)Second, on cruising: in today's economic climate, the only financially sensible way to cruise is to go for last minute deals. There are always terrific offers around. (But don't tell the other passengers what you paid - they'll hate you!)
This of course requires the flexibility to take off at short notice. That's why I want MrsTroll to retire. But as your own man, you may already be able to do it!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-03 09:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-04 01:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-04 01:56 am (UTC)I'm going to try to give a potted description of all the BookCrossers as I go along. Luckily they turned up in sections each day, rather than all at once.
And no, Kerri didn't win the lottery with me. It was quite the other way around, and I have never let a day go by without blessing the chance of life that saw her smiling my way.
I'd best get a move on, but! I'm back at work next week, and I leave for Edinburgh at the end of the month.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-04 06:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-04 06:55 am (UTC)Lord, but what a convention this was!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-04 10:27 am (UTC)All you need to get dl and I to smile, well fall over laughing, is to tell us about the "pool" and how "cool" it is, not to mention your "hostel"!!
I remember that trip. R and I walked into town to meet you and Kerri. Its kinda strange now to think of him being my boyfriend. :o)
We stopped in Oamaru for Sunway. It was my 2nd time of having it, still something new for me.
We hadn't been together long at that point. R had moved out of his flat into a new place, where he had one room in a house of ten rooms. I was there with him most of the time, even though I still had a room at my flat. We eventually moved in together at the end of April.
That trip was a long time ago, lots has happened since then.
A year and a half since we got married, I hope not too long before little pitter patters come along. :o)
I'm always happy to see you again. Bilbo had an excellent time with you, I can tell by all the photos, sadly its been a while since he moved on.
Maybe we will see you next year in Sydney, if we can afford the trip over.
I am trying to combine the UnConvention with our wedding anniversary and the long weekend of Labour Weekend.
Thanks for the memories. :o)
no subject
Date: 2009-06-04 10:59 pm (UTC)Feh. She and Newk were far too busy to convince me to wear it.
But there are certain things that are Just Not Ever Going To Happen, Period.
*Shudder*
Mankini
Date: 2009-06-06 05:32 am (UTC)Darkside
Date: 2009-06-06 05:34 am (UTC)I don't think Rars is ever for the dark side.
And thanks for a great description.
remember the nute were there too?
no subject
Date: 2009-06-06 05:35 am (UTC)Re: Darkside
Date: 2009-06-06 06:06 am (UTC)So to speak.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-06 06:38 am (UTC)Hope you are well and happy
Re: Darkside
Date: 2009-06-06 06:38 am (UTC)Re: Darkside
Date: 2009-06-06 10:19 am (UTC)Did you hear the thunk from the other side of the world!
Date: 2009-06-08 03:35 pm (UTC)Thanks for the laugh!!
Re: Darkside
Date: 2009-06-08 03:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-08 03:36 pm (UTC)