If the days travelling to New Zealand were a little tough for us then it was all worth it, and then some. New Zealand is absolutely fantastic. I cannot find enough adjectives to praise the place, I really can’t. Every time we turn a corner there seems to be a new vista that blows us both away.
We picked up our rental campervan (more to come about this soon) from the office in Christchurch and hit the road aiming for Akaroa – a place coined as the “French town” of NZ. Ruth’s uncle Vaughan is with us at the moment, a fluent French speaker, so we had high hopes of him being able to hit it off with the locals.
In truth though, Akaroa is about as French as a Cornish pasty. But for the occasional road name – Rue Lavaud or hotel, wait for it – L’Hôtel, there really isn’t a fat lot that is French to speak of, apart from the history that is: I won’t bore you with the details but suffice to say, the south island of New Zealand would be French but for a swift treaty signing by the Brits with the Maori tribes on the north island a couple of days before the French settlers arrived.
Either way, we had an extremely pleasant day out wandering around the quaint colonial cottages and topped it off by a top-notch fish and chip dinner with a panorama to die for.
Click the images to enlarge.