Rain, Rough Air, and Remembrance
Though we had promised ourselves we would put the accident behind us, that was easier said than done.
It was still fresh.
To read about our car accident in Ashburton, click here.
After breakfast, we strolled through Christchurch’s Botanic Gardens. It was a beautiful morning, and the walk helped restore our senses a bit.
The weather was perfect.
But that didn’t last long.
Our plans to take the historic Christchurch Tram and ride the Gondola were washed out by heavy rain and dense, low clouds. Any meaningful sightseeing was pretty much off the table.
Maybe it was a sign that we needed to slow down for a day.
So that is exactly what we did.
We spent a couple of hours at the casino playing blackjack, returned our damaged rental car, had an early dinner, and called it a night.
The next morning, our flight from Christchurch to Wellington turned out to be one of the scariest flights I have ever experienced.
Our twin-propeller plane crossed Cook Strait, the body of water separating New Zealand’s South and North Islands, while rain and wind pounded the aircraft.
The plane rocked from side to side. The wings jolted up and down.
A gentleman behind us told his companion that Wellington is one of the windiest airports in the world. I have no idea whether that is technically true, but on that day, I believed every word of it.
I have flown in a lot of conditions. I have been on planes that aborted landings just feet from the ground. I have experienced turbulence that made the scariest roller coasters seem tame.
But when we landed in Wellington, I wanted to kiss the ground.
We picked up our rental car at the airport.
And if you have followed us on this journey, I am sure you already know the two things we did differently this time.
First, we paid for the rental car insurance.
Second, I handed the keys to my wife for good.
The rain seemed to have followed us from Christchurch, figuratively speaking, since I know absolutely nothing about New Zealand jet streams or weather patterns.
It felt like a good day to lose ourselves in a museum.
Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa, known locally as Te Papa
The exhibits were fascinating, and I found myself wandering from room to room. From the stories of the first inhabitants, the Māori, to uncovered artifacts and art exhibits, the hours were filled with history, culture, and discovery.
But as intrigued as I was by everything we saw, nothing impressed me — and moved me emotionally — like Gallipoli: The Scale of Our War.
Gallipoli: The Scale of Our War
The exhibit tells the stories of New Zealanders who served during World War I, chronicling their experiences, struggles, and sacrifices.
It choked me up.
I fought back tears as I moved from room to room, each story building upon the last.
The larger-than-life models were incredibly lifelike. The expressions on their faces were haunting, and the audio narration overhead made the experience even more powerful.
At the end, after learning the final story, we placed a small red paper poppy in remembrance of those who served, suffered, and sacrificed.
It was the most visually and emotionally compelling exhibit I had ever seen.
My wife and I left quietly, unable to speak, but holding hands.
To read more about our journey in New Zealand, check out our stay in Queenstown and the day in Milford Sound by clicking here. Then join us on our next stop at Arrowtown, That Wanaka Tree, and the Cardrona Hotel by clicking here.
