Dear All,

Relaxing in bed after a very special day... that is how I start this blog entry.

Again I have moved on: this time to stay with a lady, who proves to have an energy level that puts mine to shame. Over the years I have met thousands of people but sure enough, there is only one like Jo! This vibrant lady, who has so much on her plate already, has surely given me a couple of extra grey hairs (she was planning my lectures in Christchurch but seem to forget to inform me about it!) . Nevertheless, I am the first one to admit that, given the circumstances, she has done a remarkable job. Okay, I had my panic moments when the planning went pear shaped but Jo wouldn’t be Jo if she couldn’t come up with a last minute plan... and I mean: VERY last minute...

After have been made familiar with my new home for the next couple of days, we went for a walk along the beach. Gosh, this is something we can only dream off in Flanders: miles of very fine sandy beaches wide enough to lose thousands of tourists on. One major difference though: apart from a lonely wanderer, there is not a living soul to be spotted. This is heaven on earth for those lucky ones who can walk freely here but just as well for Connor, the dog that Jo adopted from an asylum. There she has been told that this more than lively quadruped has some Border collie breed in his blood. I would bet that he is 50 % greyhound: that dog is faster than an arrow from a bow when collecting the ball, Jo keeps on throwing. No way will someone ever wear out this Duracell bunny! After a good hour of running like wild, he still looks as fresh as from the start: I wish the same could be said of us!

Once home from the walk, we just killed the time chatting away. There was so much to catch up, since it was several years ago when we met for the first time in Flanders. I remember so well that already then, Jo had left a lasting impression on me. With vocal cords on the edge of cracking down, we had to make a move. The Belgian consul in Christchurch was celebrating her 50^th birthday: to mark this milestone in her life, a lot of guests had been invited for a drink in her house. It proves to be a beautiful place, right on the other side of town... so I am in for a (to Belgian standards) long drive.

The house, situated on top of a hill thus having breathtaking views across the bay, suffered from the earthquakes too. The large windows had just exploded, covering the whole place in glass. No one, who has actually gone through this, could ever understand what a devastating effect an earthquake can have. Fact is that I expect my guardian angel to be on duty: only a couple of days before my arrival, there was another shock which was sufficient to make sure that all the frames on the wall were out of balance. The trembling earth is still very much in the headlines here. What struck me is that many elder inhabitants of Christchurch tell me about the buildings, which have disappeared, taking along dear memories too. I have always replied that memories are saved in the heart and not in bricks. Coming from a place on earth, which at some point, was completely wiped off the map, I am convinced that this city will rise from its ashes. However, that might be a small consolation to many locals as it will take many years to rebuild a lively city...

An occasion as yesterday proves to be an ideal way to meet other Belgians. Not that I have an urgent need to catch up with compatriots (if that were the case, I should have stayed in Belgium) but I am eager to learn what has brought them to the other side of the world. The answers can be divided in two camps: some of them followed the love of their lives whilst other were fed up with Belgium and decided to look for a better alternative. Either way, none of them regrets having moved to New Zealand. Even stronger: none of them plans to return ever. Having said that: I did come across one Dutch couple, planning their return to the Netherlands. Their career had come to an end and having no children here, they felt the need to go back to their roots. All in all, the evening has been a very enriching experience for me.

For today, Jo came up with a very last minute plan. The lunch, which was initially scheduled, was to be replaced by a visit to Hanmer Springs. This appears to be a hot spring, where a real spa complex has been built. The “Baden-Baden” in New-Zealand... With outside temperatures of barely 10°C, I couldn’t really fancy the idea of walking around in a swimsuit. Kiwis are just that more hardened than Europeans, who are too spoiled by their heated houses. I was about to change in an icicle before I reached the warm water! Needless to say that Jo and Raylee had great fun when seeing this Belgian shivering. But gosh, it was worth being brave! Once emerged in the warm water, it felt like heaven: 100% enjoyment! The centre has developed several pools with different temperatures, the hottest being over 38°C. This pool had sulphur in it, meaning you wouldn’t choose it for the smell but... it simply beats everything to relax is such hot water. So think of me, enjoying the heat, whilst looking at the Alps, still covered in snow. I felt almost surreal...

Relaxing in that pool, a young couple joined in. I couldn’t prevent myself from hearing their conversation in an accent, I recognised as being European. Since he had jet black hair and matching eyes, my guess this man was Spanish. Dead wrong, as he proved to be Belgian, even Flemish. Having arrived here a good year ago, he fell in love with the country and decided to stay. Sounds familiar to me! In all of my travels, this is the first Belgian, I stumble across by chance... I guess it only confirms the fact that they don’t travel very well.

I really like my bright red swimsuit (a souvenir from Tampa). However, Jo came to “rescue” me from the pool, saying that I looked like a boiled lobster: it had become difficult to tell where the swimsuit stopped and where the skin started! I might not be good with cold but heat: no problem at all!

Something entirely new on my list tomorrow: a studio interview with a local TV and another interview with a newspaper journalist. Knowing that cameras are not my best friend, I warn Jo for the fact this might not work out too well. Waste of time of course, as my confident hostess, claims I will do well. Just do as you’re told, and you’ll be fine... that is the given advice. I already hold my breath!

In the afternoon, I will be collected by the mayor of Waimakariri for a guided tour, before making my way toward Mount Somers. Could it be that one is born with a travelling gen? If so, it must have entered my blood one way or another... I simply enjoy this time of my life more than I could have imagined in my wildest dreams!

Warm wishes,

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

Do not worry: I do not walk on by vanity. The sequel to the title of my blog is… by hackers! Having had one of my gmail accounts hacked whilst I was still in Oz, now my Facebook account has been hacked. Since yesterday, I can no longer access my Varlet Farm account on Facebook (for those amongst you who would like to connect with me again, search for Charlotte Descamps) since some friendly Belgian (my password was changed in Belgium) has hacked my account. Am I really naïve when being shocked by the fact that there are people who clearly do not show respect to others? I guess I am, as my upcoming divorce has made more than clear that people can have two faces…

This computer ignorant has therefore engaged in recovering my account. And although I am the first to admit that I wasn’t born with a built-in technology nodule, I honestly wonder who on earth manages to understand the procedure. Clear enough I don’t as I remain unsuccessful in all my attempts.

Some positive news to be shared too though: today, I have seen the sun. The rain is gone, instead we had a pleasant 14 °C, quite enjoyable on a winter day.

Two appointments in my diary for today: one which might open a door to a new future and one with a former guest of Varlet Farm. Two meetings of completely different calibre, different nature and with totally different people. But both of them left me with a good feeling…

The day came to an end with a lecture in the Papanui RSA club. Since my host was having such high expectations, I really started getting nervous as well. This was definitely not my best presentation ever but nevertheless it was well appreciated. The best compliment was given by someone who does lectures on a regular base. He simply said: you are a natural! Enough to colour my day…

No load of pictures today (even none) but a warm feeling of satisfaction. That is what I want to add to this blog.

Warm regards

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012

Dear All,

Frustration, frustration.. since once again I am caught I a situation without WIFI which means that I can not update my blogs. That was the case on Sunday but in the meantime,  we are a few days further…

One of the most popular topics for a chat worldwide must be the weather. By now, this has given me sufficient inspiration to publish a novel. The title would have to be “ The drowned land of Canterbury”. Being Belgian, I am entitled to say that I am used to rain. Whatever has been pouring down without any interruption for the last 24 hours, can no longer be described as such though. Never before in my life have I seen a downpour as this. 

Just like Flanders, the Canterbury plains have a layer of clay below the surface. The main difference proves to be the lack of a drainage system. Not that this would have sorted out the problem in the short term. With half the normal amount of rainfall coming down in a couple of days, even with the best possible drainage system, it would still take days to get the fields dry again. 

My host, Kevin, is the deputy mayor of an area called Waimakariri. Just as has been the case in Belgium many years ago, the villages merged, meaning that the present council is now responsible for some 48000 inhabitants, living in an area of about 2200 square km. Comparing that to West Flanders (with its 1.164.000 inhabitants in 3140 square km) it become clear what a large but sparsely populated area this is. Being a deputy mayor in such bad weather conditions is not an enviable position: all day long, Kevin is being contacted by people experiencing problems with flooding. 

It would be sheer madness to go walking in this type of weather, so Kevin takes me for a tour of the area in his car. Rivers, which are normally meandering harmless through the landscape, are instantly transformed into fast-flowing rivers, overflowing their banks everywhere. Cattle and sheep are looking dazed at so much wetness surrounding them: the quadrupeds are facing a long and very wet night…

Something very typical for this area are the shelter belts: pine trees grown as a high hedge. Initially used to break the wind but at the same time providing shelter for the cattle. However, in the given weather conditions, even shelter belts can not fulfil this task : this is a situation of hoping for quick improvement. 

Milk and other agriculture products represent the bulk of NZ’s export: no wonder that investments are being made in this sector. Although, I can not deny that this sometimes leads to strange situations. What to think of a cow tunnel under the main road? Because the flock of a local farmer was gradually increasing in size in combination with the fact that part of his meadows were across a busy road, it was decided to construct a tunnel under the street. Not a matter of providing more safety for the cows of course, more a case of providing an answer to motorist becoming more and more impatient.

Another surprise to me was the size of the irrigations systems : huge installations which can be as long as 2 km! All wheels are individually controlled by a computer because the giant system runs around in a semicircle. Top of the bill is a recently installed system that simply goes over the house! No dirt of that roof ever… but laundry that has to dry in the tumble dryer is the price to be paid. 

Another country, so other laws. On our way, we passed a farm that was divided into building lots, making 25 lots of 5 acres available for hobby farmers. No endless procedures to change the use of the land here: down under one seems to be using common sense in a better way

After having spent 2 night at Kevin and Maree’s house (who eagerly look forward to their first European trip) I end up to visit Murray, who takes me to his sister later in the day. In the company of a sociology professor, I am guaranteed of an evening filled with interesting discussions about society, different culture and… life tout court.

Raylee is a native resident of the devastated city, which Christchurch still is. She takes me on a walking tour through the old town centre: it turns out to become an account of what is already gone and what is still there to be demolished. Tears spring to her eyes when referring to the groundswell of support that came to Christchurch in the weeks after the devastating earthquakes. Since there were no casualties after the first heavy shock in September 2010, the locals were left with a false sense of security. The second big earthquake in February 2011, came as a huge shock. None less than a 185 people died, most of them in 2 towers which had collapsed as a house of cards.

Cranes are working day and night, seven days a week. Entire neighbourhoods are closed to city dwellers with soldiers in place to make sure that no one passes these points unauthorised. 

It is a sad story: the story of a whole city which disappears of the map, taking many precious memories with it. Fortunately, people have a resilience that can not be underestimated. Making sure that businesses could keep on going, a shopping centre made of sea containers, has been built in the centre of town: coloured containers, brought together in a random way, were very artistically converted into shops and coffee shops. Sad to hear that a Brit has put down a complaint because he felt that his idea was stolen. Having started a shop in a container in Great-Britain, he consider to hold the exclusive rights to this concept.  “Run to hell” is the anser the Kiwis have, most rightly, given him…

I can’t believe what I see next: further down the street, I spot a man in a medieval outfit. Intriguing enough for me to approach him in order to find out what he is up to. It appears to be the town crier, proclaiming the news, three to four hours a day.  He adds in a cynical way that his job now mainly exists to announce one or other exhibition in a particular building, followed by the announcement that the building is not accessible until further notice… Black humour… every deals with the tragedy in their own way.

My trip would even render a hardcore Bedouin jealous… Off I go again, on my way to my next hosts: Michael and Lesley welcome me with great warmth in their beautiful home. I soon come to learn that Michael has planned to fill my days in a useful way as I am taken to meet two history professors at Canterbury university. A visit which ends up to be so much more than a pure history lesson: these people have given me advice, of which I know it will determine my future a great deal. To be continued…

Bedtime for me: with loads of new impressions stored in my mind, I know it will be a relaxing sleep.

Best wishes,

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012