Cry of the Banshee
Day 1 – Dunedin to Christchurch (11-3-04)
It was with little adieu and minimal celebration that I departed from my small flat in Dunedin, New Zealand after nearly five months of living there. A cold place in which the walls were no more than cardboard barriers between a chill Antarctic wind and my layers of polar fleece, the flat had been my home away from home, yet I was glad to see it go and recede into the memories. Filed away as my first “overseas living experience,” Dunedin would remain both a good memory and bad memory, although perhaps ultimately my recollection of it would be tempered by the next six weeks that I would spend traveling Australia and New Zealand. With luggage that easily totaled the weight of a small elephant, I caught a cab over to the Intercity bus stop where, after waiting for about half an hour, I boarded a double-decker bus to journey to Christchurch. We made a brief stop on the way up for lunch in a cozy coastal town. Although the town had a pleasant atmosphere to it, the deep-fried chicken and French fries I had did not. In fact the “atmosphere” of them disagreed so terribly with my stomach that I felt sick for the remainder of my journey up to Christchurch. The bus had left Dunedin at about one o’clock and arrived shortly after six in Christchurch’s cathedral square. From there I made a short walk to the prearranged hostel at which I was to meet my cousin Tory. It was fortunate that the hostel was nearby, for were it any further my luggage and I may have had serious disagreements. I found at the hostel that my cousin was not present so, after checking in, I left for a nearby starbucks to indulge in a mocha frappacino. I also wanted to recharge my laptop, the battery of which I had exhausted on the bus ride up. After receiving my drink, however, I was sadly disappointed to find that they were closing up in just a few minutes so I returned to the hostel at which point Tory spotted me from a nearby pub. I joined him there for some food and drink where we listened to the sad and disheartening 2004 USA election results. While hope remained Kerry would take the presidency, it quickly diminished by the end of the night after it became apparent that Bush would take the key states of Ohio and Iowa. Sad that the U.S. was doomed to another four years of damnation in the fiery furnace of hell that is the Bush dictatorship, I decided to call it an early night. Much to my misfortune though, as well as Tory’s, we were roomed with a man who’s snoring sounded something like every animal in the world shrieking a deathcry simultaneously. The sound was so hideous that I might have suspected the gentleman of having ten noses were it not for having seen him earlier. After about half an hour of ill attempts to fall asleep (the endeavor was probably doomed from the start because I was not tired and had been going to bed at 4 and 5am), I resigned myself to go down to the TV room where I spent some time watching a movie and messing around on my computer. Tory joined me at one point, equally aggrieved by the terrible snoring, but after a couple hours he decided to take another go at sleeping. I, however, did not return until 3am at which point I was so tired that I hoped exhaustion might supersede the shrieking banshee that lay in the bunk below me. After laying in bed for another fair amount of time, I faded into a restless sleep in which I had strange dreams and awoke frequently to either the sound of loud snoring or the jack-hammer which began at roughly six in the morning.
Tags: Christchurch, Hostels, New Zealand, Sleep, Travel
gregbilsland
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