the last thing you might expect whilst traveling around a overtly english country like New Zealand, is to stumble across a little village with a distinctive gallic flavour.....yet little Akaroa, on the banks of a beautiful harbour, with street names like Rue Jolie and Rue Lavaud made the francophile in me jump for joy...settled by the french in 1838 the town is full of picturesque cottages, restaurants with names like l'hotel and french flags flying proudly next to kiwi over teeny tiny boutiques....
lunch (pizza - hmmm italian rather than french, oh well...) and an ice cream by the sea later we mozied back into christchurch and matt and i headed out to enjoy the last of the evening's sunshine and the famous christchurch river....with a river named 'Avon' lined with old willows and a neo-gothic cathedral you could be forgiven for mistaking christchurch for a forgotten corner of old england. old fashioned trams are juxtaposed with post-modern sculptures....the city has a calming feel about it - i would have liked to spend more time here - but i'm finding i feel that way about any and all of the places we've visited here...guess that means i'm coming back!!
tomorrow we move on to dunedin.
stay tuned. xx
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