Day 1 Christchurch

It’s a blur. An interesting one. The man sharing the three-seater with me on the way to Tokyo, travelling for work with hair in his ears that is longer than anything I have ever seen and who snored in such a way that I was never able to fall asleep. The bad (yes as in not fresh!) sushi at the Tokyo airport – my only expected redeeming value in transiting via Tokyo - was a big disappointment. The number of Narita airport stores that sold gadgets to attach to cell phones. The way the duty free on the flight to Tokyo lasted about half the flight – ie about 7 hours, rolling carts back and forth. I always wondered who bought their diamonds and pearls on these flights. Now I know.

I wish I had known that the Christchurch street I took to walk home at night – 11pm – was THE hooker street. Granted it wasn't crawling: I passed a total of 7 or 8 teenage girls over the span of a good 15 minute walk. If I had seen only one, I might not have known since they were not dressed much differently than clubbing girls. (Oh that makes me feel young to write that!) It felt off to walk past them and then see their colleagues in parked cars along this major road outside of the city centre. I wish the B&B I was staying at had told me. I would have walked the parallel street (or maybe that was the street reserved for gay prostitutes?). I was just noted to Graham a couple of days ago that I find men who sit in parked cars sketchy. We saw one in Paris, which sparked the comment. Graham didn’t really agree. I hadn’t even thought about prostitution at the time.

Don’t think I am naïve – I know these things exist.

This morning my B&B host told me prostitution was legalised about two years ago here.