Christchurch, New Zealand
A Hosteler’s Paradise
Christchurch! The very name conjures a proper British town with a vintage aura. Just as Oz was for Dorothy, Christchurch became an all-consuming destination for us back in 1982 as Mark and I, brand new lovers, skipped over the emerald fields of New Zealand bearing 35-pound backpacks.
We would usually hitchhike, and whoever picked us up would say, “You two kids should not be doing dangerous things like hitchhiking,” and then they would take us exactly where we wanted to go.
South Island
Hitchhiking the South Island was not as easy as it was on the North Island. Traffic was much more sparse, so we elected to take more buses.
Christchurch
When we reached Christchurch, we hiked from the bus station directly to the Cora Wilding Youth Hostel, an elegant red brick building with an ample and well manicured front lawn. It looked more like the home of a university dean than a hostel. As we checked in, Mark gave our names as “Mr. and Mrs. Mark Schulze,” which made me fume inwardly. I was no man’s wife! I would take no man’s name! Later, Mark explained, “I had to say that we were married, or we wouldn’t be able to sleep together.”
”Oh.”
As it was, the rooms were full to capacity that first night, and Mark had to sleep in a men’s dormitory while I stayed in a curtained alcove behind the Common Room, listening to a group of men laughing and bullshitting until the warden kicked them out at about midnight.
Push Bikes
After breakfast the next morning, Mark and I rented a couple of “push bikes” (bicycles) from a shop down the block. We rode all over town.
Christchurch reflected the height of a golden autumn: nearly naked trees surrounded by fallen red, orange and yellow leaves, with a chilly edge to the air.
We realized we needed to prepare ourselves for winter on the South Island. We found a couple of second-hand shops close by, where we outfitted ourselves with mittens, sweaters, hats and scarves.
Blackened Kingfish
Since the hostel featured a well-equipped kitchen, Mark and I stopped at a market for potatoes and broccoli, and then at a fish market where, upon the proprietor’s recommendation, we bought a Kingfish . He also provided us with a recipe for blackened fish.
Although that recipe smoked out the kitchen, which created hostility in some of our fellow hostelers, it yielded one of the most marvelous taste treats of the island: a succulent dinner kingfish, the likes of which we had not tasted anywhere before or since. It was the first excellent blackened fish dinner of many to be shared over the next several decades.
Mark and Patty on the Picton ferry from South Island to North Island, New Zealand
Accommodations
As a “married couple,” Mark and I wrangled Room 9 together that night. Since there was a third bunk, and since the hostel was still crowded, we had to share the room with a third, a woman, who walked in on us twice. The first time, she coitus-interrupted us. Fortunately, we had reached a more fulfilling conclusion by the time she returned the second time.
Cultural Expedition
Christchurch was so much fun, we stayed another day to tour the Canterbury Museum, which housed the largest stuffed-bird collection in the country and the Hall of Antarctic Discovery. In town, we explored shops featuring sheepskin coats, hand-knit woolen goods, jade tikis and a special map with the world upside-down, depicting the “down under” countries on top of the world.
Never Forget How to Be a Child
We tumbled in piles of dried autumn leaves on the banks of the Avon River that coursed through town. After we spotted a couple of canoers drifting past, we rented a canoe and spent our last afternoon in Christchurch lazily “going with the flow.”
We have never forgotten our fun times in Christchurch, and the night we smoked out the hostel kitchen. We only hope there is a young couple, enjoying themselves half as much as we did when we were just beginning to explore the geography of love.