Time to-o say good-bye..

.. or soon it'll be anyway and thus time to draw a resume of New Zealand.
For starters, Kiwis are the nicest people on the planet, period. Notwithstanding age, gender, ethnicity, regional differences

On the christchurch airport today a reddish New Zealander was favorably impressed by what he interpreted as my need for potassum ($1.5 airport bananas baby). I chatted somewhat absent-mindedly with him until I surprised mayself with a timid "Are you a pilot?" Turns out, he was even MY pilot. This made up for Qanas latest rule of harrassment: No hot drinks when boarding the airplane. Guess where they put that sign, befor or after the airport cafe... I think I have spent way too much time in airplanes, pondering questinos such as: Is it psychologically playing to our authoritarian impulses when they say that "the captain" has switched on the fasten seatbelt sign?

About Christchurch I can't say much: As I felt somewhat lowbeat, my main projects were repeated visits to the movies and the Art Galleries. Art is very comforting. There was even a quite hilarious moment when the guide - female, fiftish, determined smile - insisted on questioning people aon a "Rorschach test" painting. To my filthy mind it looked quite obviously like a female netherlands (and had been weaved-painted by two feminist artists of the 1970s). Judging from the general shuffling of feets, clearing of throats and other gestures of compensation, I wasn
t alone with the impression.
In the background, an incomprehensible art work combined a sweet Southern Gospe.l with a "Hello. I'm John Wayne" loop. Oddly comforting as I walked on the "Tasmanian wood", as I'd been illuminated, attempting and failing, to renew my appreciation of the floor, or floor in general. Why the hell does it matter it's TASMANIAN? It really really looked just like wood.

Anyway, New Zealand. Too windy. Most stuff is gluetenfree, there is much diasabled access. Everybody's taken care of, those with special needs, the drug addicts, a diaper changing room. Birds that cannot fly are decidedly funny. "Consent is sexy" on a Wellington toilet. Overall, definitely a place where I could live (and improve my personality). That is, if I'd come to terms with the generally extremely slow pace - that which most BPs find so awesomely charming, so "relaxed" - In all likelihood it'd drive me insane and into depression. Or I'd just get used to it.