Christchurch

We've posted some photos from the trip here:

http://photos.groups.yahoo.com/group/shandelle_michael_south_pacific_trip/lst

Sadly, our balloon trip was canceled this morning due to high winds. We're potentially back on for tomorrow, depending upon the weather. The pleasure of the whole situation is that we (meaning I) must telephone a number a 4am tomorrow to see if the ride is on or off. If it's on, they pick us up at 4:45am and we go fly. If not, we go back to bed.

NZ is a strange place. Let me document the ways:

1) A milkshake is not really a milkshake in the American sense. In NZ, it's essentially chocolate milk. If you'd like an American milkshake, you must order a "thickshake."

2) The sinks are built completely funky. Instead of having a single faucet the combines hot and cold at desired ratios to make the temperature you require, you are offered a wide basin with two faucets at either end. One is hot and the other is cold. In addition, these faucets don't provide enough clearance to actually rinse your hands under them.

3) The toilets have two buttons to flush. Evidently, they each do something different. We have no clue and limp along by just randomly punching the two until the defecate runs down the tube.

4) If you are a tourist to NZ, it's assumed that you're interested in risking your life. Every tour company offers bungy jumping, jet-boat rafting, and the like. Shandelle and I are out of place, as it appears we're the sole couple not interested in motion sickness travelling through here.

5) NZ also appears to be a magnet for foreigners who eat incredibly poorly. Richard Simmons would have a coronary watching these folks eat. Today, I watched two Germans cook an entire three course mean with exactly ZERO items that were not brown, grey, or yellow. These same folks had toast, Sprite, bananas, jam, butter and peanut butter for breakfast. Of course, the young ladies then insist on wearing half shirts with grossly distended bellies. Perhaps it's my American sensibilities, but *yuck*.

6) The papers are generally happy. Unlike American papers and news, there's just a general air of positivity. I can't really explain it, but you don't finish reading the paper and want to crawl into your Panic Room. In the States, one read of the San Francisco Examiner and you need some Halcyon to bring you down. Either that, or a twelve guage in the gun-rack of your Ford F-150 pickup with the Bomb Osama bumper sticker on the back.

That's all for tonight. More travel details from an angry American later on.