The flight over the Tasman Sea to New Zealand is going well, and we land almost exactly at 11:30 PM local time.

I have some comments about the landing. First, the plane tilts quite a bit, almost as if there was a big bump in the middle of the runway. Then, there’s a sudden stop, causing us to almost hit the seat in front of us. Neither I nor anyone else seems to be hurt

After that, I went through passport control, which is self-manned. A scanner reads the passport, and you’re supposed to be allowed into the arrival hall, but not for me and a few others. We have to take the regular route, because on the plane, we had to fill out a form about what we have in our luggage, where we’ve been, and so on.

The form also asks if you have camping equipment, medications, explosives, weapons, and so on.

I indicated that I have a tent and other camping gear and that my last destination was Borneo, where I also camped. The passport control officer wants to take a look at this form and notices that I marked a few ”yes” boxes.

Then I’m allowed to proceed towards the exit and the next checkpoint.

The next officer also looks at the form and then asks, ”Where is your tent?” I point to my North Face bag, and the officer tells me to follow the red line. There are also yellow and green lines. Now, I’m asked more questions about the tent, and they also want me to produce it.

I hand over my North Face bag to the female passport control officer, she asks me to wait and she walks through a door into an office.

After about 10 minutes, she returns and said…
– We found some ants in your tent, and you have two options. You leave your tent here, and we destroy it for free.

I look at the woman as if she’s joking and said…
 – Destroy?

She responds…
– Yes, but your other option is to let us send the tent for cleaning, but that will cost you about 160 NZD.

What do you do?
Starting an argument with these officers is out of the question, so I asked…
– How many days do I have to wait to get it back?
She replies…
 –  About a week.

I have no choice but to accept their offer, and I provide my address in Christchurch, my phone number, and email address.
She says…
– We’ll send you an email when and where you can pick up your tent.

Sigh, sigh, and more sighs, and now the time it’s almost half past two AM .

I’m tired and realize that my hostel tonight won’t be open when I arrive….

I hade to get out of the terminal with the rest of my bags and try to find a taxi or bus that will take me to the address 373 Gloucester Street.

A  Shuffle bus driver is standing outside at the exit and he asked if I attepting to go into the city. I gave him the address to my hostel .
He asks me to put my luggage in a wire cart that was standing right next to him and then he points to a gray Toyota van that was  standing in the parking lot.

Shuffel taxi at Christchurch airport

There are three more families going in the same direction and we have to share the space in the bus. The driver then reverses the bus towards the entrance and hooks up a large white fully covered trailer. He counts the bags and then we drive to Christchurch in the dark of night.

After dropping off the other families at various hotels in the city center, we head on traffic and deserted streets towards the Linwood district and Kiwi House Hostel.

A large fence surrounds the hostel but a small gate to the left takes me into another door that has an internal radio next to it.

I press the internal radio, just a lot of beeps and two lights shining right in my face. No answer. I’m thinking about what to do, whether I should stay until they open or leave my luggage and head into the center. I decide that I leave my luggage and head towards the city center to see if anything is open. I leave the luggage in the space between the outer and inner fence.

Before I left, I locked my bags to the fence with the long yellow strap equipped with a combination lock. It took me just over 30 minutes to find my way to the city center, but nothing is open except a hotel with a closed bar.

Before I left, I locked my bags to the fence using the long yellow strap with a combination lock. It took me just over 30 minutes to find my way to the city center, but nothing was open except a hotel with a closed bar.

I was allowed to sit at one of the window tables. The girl at the reception gave me a mug of hot water, and in my backpack, I had a packet of instant coffe so I could stay awake…

Then I slowly walk back to the hostel and just wait. After waiting for about half an hour, the gate door suddenly swings open and a young girl comes out.

She obviously hadn’t expected me to be standing there and lets out a short scream.

We talk for a while and I show her the SMS message I received from the Hostel and explain why I’m standing here with a bike box and six bags.

 – If I let you in, I could be fined 500 NZD$ from the host, says the girl.

 – Wait here and I’ll go in and talk to someone.

She comes back within five minutes with a face–scarred guy. They let me in and I get help with the packing. I’m now so tired that I feel bad. I drink several cups of coffee while I wait for the staff to show up at 8.

While I’m sitting at one of the wooden tables, more and more people come down to the kitchen to eat breakfast. It is now eight o’clock and the door next to the reception is unlocked. A younger woman already knows that I have booked and says that I can not get a bed until after ten.

She shows me the TV lounge and says than…
 – You can sleep at the sofa while we are preparing your bed.
Al–Jazira is the only news program I could find, but I let it allowed to sound in the background while I tryed to fall asleep, which I do eventually.

…zzZZzz…

See yah later
P-G
// TheGlobalCyclist1719