We said goodbye to Accents on the Park about
8:30 this morning when our shuttle arrived to take us to the airport. Our
check-in and boarding experience in Nelson was very much like it had been the
second time in Auckland: no ID checking, no security scanning, no TSA. The only
difference was that the agent actually weighed our checked bags. Go figure.
The raspberry-topped brownie we shared for dessert was scrumptious.
Having finished lunch, we began planning for the next vital event of the day: dinner. Michael had read about a very good restaurant in Christchurch called Dux de Lux, which had been destroyed by the earthquake but later rebuilt. However, when we tried to locate it this afternoon, the only building at the address he had written down was the police station. Oh well. We would have to find another place to dine.
But dinnertime was still several hours off, so we headed for the Canterbury Museum. On the way we passed a clock tower built to celebrate Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee in 1897, which apparently sustained no earthquake damage.
Not so lucky was the Peterborough Centre, formerly the home of Christchurch Teachers College. We were drawn to the gothic-style building because it looks so much like those at the University of Chicago, and a little bit like Amanda Knight Hall at BYU. We hope the heritage foundation working to save the Peterborough will be successful.
Canterbury is the name of the region surrounding Christchurch, and the Canterbury Museum features a mixed bag of cultural, historical, and scientific exhibits, all very informative and tastefully displayed.
One of the most interesting for us, especially since Michael had read Endurance: Shackleton’s Incredible Voyage, was the collection of artifacts from the earliest Antarctic expeditions. (Christchurch has been the launch point for most Antarctic voyages in the past hundred years.) Looking at the early explorers’ heavy canvas trousers and sealskin boots—and having endured January 2014 in Ohio--we are very grateful to be living in the era of Polarfleece and GoreTex.
Another gallery featured some fancier historic clothing and examples of decorative arts; another included ancient Chinese artifacts; an interactive exhibit taught us about the Canterbury region’s efforts to protect its environment; and a display of New Zealand birds allowed us to put names to a number of distinctive species we had seen but could not identify.
Our favorite exhibit, billed as a unique example
of “high
kitsch,”
was the Paua Shell House. Originally located in Bluff, a town on New Zealand’s
south coast, the house became a popular tourist destination during the 1970s
after its owners, Fred and Myrtle Flutey, decorated the entire place with paua shells.
And we mean the entire place!
According to the story, Fred liked to collect and polish the shells (from a species of abalone), but Myrtle didn’t like having to
vacuum around the piles of pauas Fred left on the floor; so Fred started
nailing his collection to the walls. Fred and Myrtle welcomed friends to admire
their decor, then curious friends of friends. Eventually the word got out, and
the Fluteys happily greeted more than a million of visitors before they died in
the early 2000s. Their grandson donated the house to the museum, where the main
rooms have been moved pretty much intact. We think Michael’s
Grandma and Grandpa Jones would have found kindred spirits in Fred and Myrtle;
the Fluteys not only had shells on their walls, but also ceramic garden gnomes
in the living room.
It was late afternoon when we returned to the motel to claim our bags and officially check in. When we asked the owner to recommend a good restaurant for dinner, he named a nearby Thai place as well as the Indian place next door, but told us that we would find many more choices along the street just behind the motel. We’d already had both Thai and Indian recently, so we just started walking up the street he indicated, checking menus to see what looked good. We found a couple of cafes that looked acceptable, but decided to keep walking.
Michael had the catch of the day, a variety of southern hemisphere white fish that neither Nancy nor Michael had heard of and whose name neither of us can remember. It was prepared Cajun style over avocado and corn salsa, surrounded by small white potatoes, haricots verts and grilled prawns. Nancy had canneloni stuffed with pumpkin chunks and spinach, garnished with roasted pimento, sage leaves, and big flakes of parmesan cheese. We also ordered some steamed vegetables to share. Mmm! The servings were so generous that Nancy could eat only two of her three cannelonis, so she had one boxed to save for breakfast. For dessert, Michael had a lemon tart with raspberry sorbet; Nancy had steamed toffee pudding with caramel sauce and crรจme anglaise. Mmm again!
A short flight took us to Christchurch, the largest city on
the South Island. This time, our shuttle driver took us to a motel called
Argyle on the Park. (It may appear that we prefer accommodations “on
a park,” but this pairing was only a happy coincidence.) Since we
arrived before noon our room was not yet ready, but the matronly desk clerk
allowed us to leave our bags in a closet containing a couple of cribs and a
high chair so we could explore the city unencumbered.
The park across from the motel is a big one: the Royal
Botanical Gardens, bordered by the Hagley playing fields. As we made our way
through the park toward a cafe that had been recommended by Fodor’s,
we mingled with families taking strolls and were passed by many runners. The
golf course and all the tennis courts were in use, and there was a rugby game
going on in the distance. Most interesting to us were the greens of the
Christchurch Croquet Club, where it appeared that one had to have the
equivalent of an AARP card to be admitted.
Beyond the gardens, we began to notice many vacant,
fenced-off lots and shuttered buildings—evidence of the earthquake that had
devastated Christchurch in February 2011. But we also noticed lots of construction
cranes and scaffolding—evidence that the city is
recovering. It does not appear that its spirit has been broken.
Our destination for lunch was a place called Vic's Cafe and
Bakehouse. As its name suggests, it offered a wide variety of breads and cakes.
The shelves for breakfast items were completely empty—a good
sign. Michael had a smoked chicken pannini and Nancy had a trio of deli salads:
pasta, potato, and roasted vegetable.
The raspberry-topped brownie we shared for dessert was scrumptious.
Having finished lunch, we began planning for the next vital event of the day: dinner. Michael had read about a very good restaurant in Christchurch called Dux de Lux, which had been destroyed by the earthquake but later rebuilt. However, when we tried to locate it this afternoon, the only building at the address he had written down was the police station. Oh well. We would have to find another place to dine.
But dinnertime was still several hours off, so we headed for the Canterbury Museum. On the way we passed a clock tower built to celebrate Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee in 1897, which apparently sustained no earthquake damage.
Not so lucky was the Peterborough Centre, formerly the home of Christchurch Teachers College. We were drawn to the gothic-style building because it looks so much like those at the University of Chicago, and a little bit like Amanda Knight Hall at BYU. We hope the heritage foundation working to save the Peterborough will be successful.
Canterbury is the name of the region surrounding Christchurch, and the Canterbury Museum features a mixed bag of cultural, historical, and scientific exhibits, all very informative and tastefully displayed.
One of the most interesting for us, especially since Michael had read Endurance: Shackleton’s Incredible Voyage, was the collection of artifacts from the earliest Antarctic expeditions. (Christchurch has been the launch point for most Antarctic voyages in the past hundred years.) Looking at the early explorers’ heavy canvas trousers and sealskin boots—and having endured January 2014 in Ohio--we are very grateful to be living in the era of Polarfleece and GoreTex.
Another gallery featured some fancier historic clothing and examples of decorative arts; another included ancient Chinese artifacts; an interactive exhibit taught us about the Canterbury region’s efforts to protect its environment; and a display of New Zealand birds allowed us to put names to a number of distinctive species we had seen but could not identify.
Our favorite exhibit, billed as a unique example
of “high
kitsch,”
was the Paua Shell House. Originally located in Bluff, a town on New Zealand’s
south coast, the house became a popular tourist destination during the 1970s
after its owners, Fred and Myrtle Flutey, decorated the entire place with paua shells.
And we mean the entire place!
According to the story, Fred liked to collect and polish the shells (from a species of abalone), but Myrtle didn’t like having to
vacuum around the piles of pauas Fred left on the floor; so Fred started
nailing his collection to the walls. Fred and Myrtle welcomed friends to admire
their decor, then curious friends of friends. Eventually the word got out, and
the Fluteys happily greeted more than a million of visitors before they died in
the early 2000s. Their grandson donated the house to the museum, where the main
rooms have been moved pretty much intact. We think Michael’s
Grandma and Grandpa Jones would have found kindred spirits in Fred and Myrtle;
the Fluteys not only had shells on their walls, but also ceramic garden gnomes
in the living room.It was late afternoon when we returned to the motel to claim our bags and officially check in. When we asked the owner to recommend a good restaurant for dinner, he named a nearby Thai place as well as the Indian place next door, but told us that we would find many more choices along the street just behind the motel. We’d already had both Thai and Indian recently, so we just started walking up the street he indicated, checking menus to see what looked good. We found a couple of cafes that looked acceptable, but decided to keep walking.
Then Nancy pointed to a small sign across the street and
said, "That says ‘Dux’ something. Wasn't that the name of
the restaurant you were looking for downtown?" Dux Dine appeared to be
related to Dux de Lux, the place Michael had read about but had been unable to
locate earlier, so we went in. All the tables in the main dining room were already
reserved (a good sign!) but we were told that they could seat us on the garden
terrace if we didn’t mind the breeze. We decided to go
for it, once we were assured that the terrace had space heaters. It was rather
cool (about 60F), but we enjoyed the lovely roses in the surrounding garden.
Michael had the catch of the day, a variety of southern hemisphere white fish that neither Nancy nor Michael had heard of and whose name neither of us can remember. It was prepared Cajun style over avocado and corn salsa, surrounded by small white potatoes, haricots verts and grilled prawns. Nancy had canneloni stuffed with pumpkin chunks and spinach, garnished with roasted pimento, sage leaves, and big flakes of parmesan cheese. We also ordered some steamed vegetables to share. Mmm! The servings were so generous that Nancy could eat only two of her three cannelonis, so she had one boxed to save for breakfast. For dessert, Michael had a lemon tart with raspberry sorbet; Nancy had steamed toffee pudding with caramel sauce and crรจme anglaise. Mmm again!
Content and bien
rassasie, we waddled back to our room and slept well.
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