Between Christchurch and Dunedin, I spent a few days in Queenstown. Unfortunately there is not much to write about. There were the herds of backpacking youths loitering in front of “The Station,” waiting for various buses to go bungy-jumping or jet boating. Then there was the half-day bus tour to visit several LOTR filming sites in nearby areas including Glenorchy and the Paradise Valley. And the unlikely captivating magic of the mountain range called "The Remarkables," which stubbornly refused to let me preserve it on film -- its snow-capped peaks remained hidden behind clouds and mists from the day I arrived to the moment I left Queenstown. Very little happened in the small, transient, crowded lakeside resort. I did not jump off the bridge with cords tied around my ankles, nor did I roll down the green hills suspended in a giant, inflated plastic bubble. I am simply too chicken for the thrills that marks this place. So below I describe Dunedin, a city on the east cost of the southern end of the South Island.
1. Elm Lodge.
The bus arrived in Dunedin on a stormy evening. It was late spring in New Zealand at the moment, but apparently no one told Nature about this. The wind tore at my coat and the rain slammed in my face as I got off the regional shuttle in front of the Elm Lodge, a backpackers' hostel recommended by both my guidebook and the hostess at a Queentown hostel. I viewed the quiet (or perhaps "deserted" was more accurate) residential neighborhood and the unassuming adobe with some doubt. It seemed too far from the city to be fun and too humble to be comfortable.
Fingers almost frozen, I fumbled with the doorknob and thought how fitting that I was greeted with this kind of weather in Dunedin, the twin city of Edinburgh (Dunedin *is* Edinburgh in Gaelic). It was on an even colder and stormier evening that I stumbled into a hotel in Edinburgh some years ago, half a world away, with the same hope for warmth and shelter. Come to think of it, that was even the same time of the year, although the seasons are exactly the opposite. Edinburgh did not disappoint and remains a city close to my heart. I had had a private fond expectation of Dunedin as well. Would I like it in two days?
A ruddy-faced, sandy-haired young man received me with a smile and gave me the key to the big women’s room. I dragged my suitcase upstairs; the wooden stairs squeaked under my feet. This was an authentic old house. The sizable room was crowded with three oversized bunk beds. The window overlooked a sea of roofs sloping down to the waterfront. It seemed that every Kiwi city I had been to was built between hills and water. The wind howled. Far away beyond the sea, the clouds broke a little; a strip of clear sky was dyed pink by the setting sun.
I unpacked as much as I could among the other five women's belongings and luggage, then walked down to the ground floor to hunt for something to warm myself up. In the kitchen, young men and women were cooking in two or three groups. The entire place smelled of dinner. It was amazing how one house could contain so many people. On the countertop and wooden shelves were saltshakers, sugar jars, tins of tea, and bottles of dried spices. Plates and bowls scattered all around, clattering and clinking. Posted on the wall a note wrote: Help yourself with the herbs in the garden. Another note said: Washing and dry your dishes and utensils after use.
It was growing darker outside, and the rain pounced the windows ferociously. A black, cast-iron fireplace was burning brightly. Groups of backpackers each occupied a piece of the three dinner tables, some eating, some reading, some playing chess, and loners worked on crossword puzzles. The chairs were worn, the paint was peeling, the furniture was chipped. The room was stuffed but quiet, shabby but cozy.
I picked up a notebook on the table and opened it. On the cover it wrote 2004. Page after page were notes written in different languages by people who had stayed at the lodge. A lot of Japanese, a lot of German, some Scandinavian, some French. Finally I saw a page of with traditional Chinese written on it. Then another page, then a few more. One log was written by someone from Taiwan, another from Hong Kong. I flipped to the end, but there was no writing in simplified Chinese.
One Chinese traveler recorded the places in NZ he and his friend had been to. Another described the attractions in Dunedin. I had a mental image of young backpackers traveling with friends or spouses on their first trip abroad. The notes in English and Chinese almost unanimously praised Elm Lodge for its home-like atmosphere. One particular comment from a Chinese traveler moved me the most:
"I have been traveling in Australia and NZ for three months now. This place is the closest to home I have been to. The friendly hosts and the cozy house comfort my lonesome heart. I am desperately homesick, yet am destined to be a wanderer."
The coal crackled in the fireplace. The warmth made me drowsy. I walked into the living room next door. About eight or nine kids scattered around in sofas and on the floor watching TV. I found my way to the last corner on a couch and snuggled myself in. An Aussie comedian was cracking jokes on a talk show. I laughed along with the others.
It was true. This house, full of temporary residents, was a place like home.
2. Cadbury Chocolate Factory
The first time I read about the factory and the tour on my travel guide, I slammed my fist on the table and exclaimed, “That’s my destination!” Chocolate, my very favorite food in the world, my obsession and addiction, the source of happiness and cure of depression, the incomparable heavenly substance. Ah, what else can be as fabulous as my good ol’ chocolate?
The factory was situated between the city center and the waterfront. The otherwise ordinary building was painted on the outside in the signature Cadbury palette of purple and yellow. Entering the front door, I was almost knocked down by the sweet scent of cocoa. I could feel my face transformed into a broad irrepressible grin.
A young woman dressed in yellow-and-purple uniform led the tour. She first handed everyone a piece of chocolate fish
Postcards from the Edge (3. Dunedin 完)
Postcards from the Edge (3. Dunedin 完)
Last edited by Jun on 2005-02-18 20:39, edited 10 times in total.
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helenClaire
- Posts: 3159
- Joined: 2003-11-22 20:12
My first reaction reading this sentence was that I'd rather be attacked by a wild animal than facing a fellow human being with bad intentions.Our uphill climb back to the bus, however, was unexpectedly held up by a bandit on the path.
When the tourists walked around the penguin, did they feel like they were trespassing on someone's property?
Just kidding! 