|Alternative world view - just as correct|
I have just come back home from a visit to Christchurch in New Zealand and Brisbane Australia. The wedge shaped moon in the sky there appeared to have been tipped over, perhaps by a passing meteorite. It was spring in Brisbane – characterised by a whopping 29 degrees Celsius, a sure-fire indication that I must leave before summer hit or suffer the fate of becoming a melted pool of flesh on the sidewalk.
The time difference on the trip is the maximum one can achieve or twelve hours during my stay in Christchurch New Zealand. Any more and one begins to narrow back in – thirteen and you are really looking at 11 and so on. Jet lag is an odd thing, no problem in New Zealand but on the arrival in Australia – marked by a recapture of two of the lost hours – my husband and I took an hour long nap only to awake after sleeping for twenty consecutive hours. I have never had a longer nap in my life and would seriously doubt anyone that states to have napped for a longer period. It is possible that in my husband‘s case the fact that he had to do our taxes while there had something to do with it.
|The cardboard cathedral in Christchurch|
I cannot tell you much – aside from the heart wrenching sight of the still apparent destruction wrecked on Christchurch during the 2011 earthquake. It was truly sad to see all of the abandoned and damaged buildings – much more so than seeing it in 2D in the papers. The setting is just perfect for a horror novel or short story – curtain blinds lapping in and out of broken windows and birds having overtaken the empty houses for their own purposes. Once done with my novel of the day and the one that I have promised that will follow I think I might work on a piece with that precise backdrop. But despite the still apparent wreckage, Christchurch is not a depressing city. There is much art on public display that superimposes the damage and have been very ingenious when it comes to the rebound. As an example they have erected a super cool container mall and a cathedral out of cardboard.
|The Holuhraun eruption|
But anyway, I am happy to have made it back home without disruption and delay. This was particularly pleasing since a longwinded airport delay anywhere on the return trip would have left me with little to do while waiting – a near to guaranteed trigger for my husband to ask me to help him with the taxes. At the Brisbane festival I was able to look busy each time his gaze was averted from his laptop screen in my direction. It would have been more of a challenge hanging around an airport.
Every time I fly I am reminded of an ad positioned on the headrests of the Icelandic local airline that reads “It is the journey, not the destination.” I am sure this is a respected quote from somewhere but I seriously doubt it has anything to do with travelling involving boarding a plane. It must stem from a time when one sat on an elephant over mountains as part of Hannibal’s entourage or crossed the Alps by foot with the family von Trapp. Travels where one comes across all sorts of new things and learns from the experience. One picks up nothing while flying aside from the occasional flu from the recycled air. Airplanes are a world of bad, tiny food on trays, movies projected from a small screen perched almost on your nose and the wish for retractable legs.
Finally, I have received an e-mail with the program for Iceland Noir in November. The honour spot of the closing panel has been provided the Murder is everywhere panel which I am very happy about. By that time the volcano will have gone back to sleep and all should be well in the land of ice and fire.
I have also received an e-mail from Jeff noting that he and Barbara have now purchased their plane tickets for the Iceland Noir festival. Unfortunately they reserved tickets for the festival dates in the month of October, not November.
Yrsa – Wednesday (I think)