Welcome to Christchurch

Well last week, I was meant to be in Christchurch for a work conference. Thankfully (for me and my workmates, not for Christchurch), the earthquake happened before we arrived. Around a week before we arrived, actually. And like the ace project managers that we are, my colleague and I put aside everything and re-organised what had taken me more than a month in just a few days. Yes, HIRE ME, I’M ACE. AND I had a nauseating virus that kept me bedridden for the entire week before our departure. Nauseating. Virus.

So off we went. To Auckland. Yes, still New Zealand, but there’s much airspace and some water that separates the two locations. Lookit:

To be honest, the best part of the new arrangements was that we ended up flying Emirate instead of Jetstar and I was able to down a bottle of Moet. Yeeha!

Besides all of the conferency knowledge that filled my brain (like, how to sleep with my eyes wide open, how to make 2 hours feel like 7, sweet is better than savoury at morning tea, etc), I did some walking around the fair city of Auckland and found the Texan Arts School – yes, you heard me – the Texan Arts School. In New Zealand. Specialising in New Zealand artists. Like Lester Hall. Here’s something he prepared earlier.

“Miss Kiwiana Stamp” by Lester Hall

They also had this in Texas, which is now sitting pretty above my pop-art kitchen doorway.

Ironically, JJ and I don’t wear watches and I have a rather aggressive dislike of THE TIME. But it’s not a clock really, is it? It’s a cultural icon (which means nothing to JJ, given that he was born into 24-hour cable TV, hence his less-than-underwhelming reaction – “Oh. Huh. Right.”).

Certainly brings back memories of bedtime, doesn’t it.

Nighty night.

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