Day 13. Christchurch NZ. The garden City.

The chilly breeze as we stepped off the plane at 6am came as a sharp reminder that we were well and truly out of the tropics, the suntan lotion could be put to the bottom of the bag and our masks and snorkels mothballed for the next 2 months.

That said, we quickly found Christchurch to be a most agreeable place. No litter, no dog poo and not a chav in sight.

It's supposed to have a population exceeding 350,000 yet somehow has the look and feel of a town half the size. Think Tunbridge Wells without the snootiness.

Luckily our room was unoccupied, so despite the early hour we checked in straight away and caught some decent kip before heading out to explore. It's our anniversary tomorrow so we decided to push the boat out and stay somewhere central and semi posh. 'Off the square' is one of those small, hip places normally frequented by thrusting young entrepreneurs and annoying media types, so eyebrows were raised when we tipped up with our backpacks and muddy hiking boots.

Sod 'em, I said to Wend, our money's as good as anyone's.

I was in dire need of a haircut, so first stop was the barbershop, not just for my number 2 all over, but also to glean some local knowledge from the lady weilding the scissors. She did a great job of making me even more handsome than usual and recommended a couple of good cafes before pointing us in the direction of the Botanical gardens.

So 6 weeks after visiting Kew with mam and dad, and 5 days after checking out Rarotonga's gardens, we made our way to another Botanical eden. But that's ok, you can do uncool stuff like this when you get to our age.

Christchurch's answer to Kew is a little smaller but no less impressive. Spring is just about getting going here, so the trees and shrubs are approaching top form, especially when set against a clear, vivid blue sky.
A pot of tea and a nice slice of cake on the lawns just about put the lid on a very civilized afternoon.