Antarcticans in Christchurch

I left home on Sunday, September 30th, heart pounding and head dizzy with the sort of whiplash-like feeling of it’s-really-happening-I’ll-be-in-Antarctica-in-a-matter-of-a-few-days, leaving behind parents who were far kinder than me in the rapid move than I probably deserved and the last cup of dad-brewed-coffee I would have for some time, dumped down a water fountain so I could get through security.

Contrary to that last statement, I swear this is not a tragedy.

Packing sucks. Living out of a suitcase, too. But as a silver lining I’ve been at this hotel for roughly a week and have settled myself into the dresser drawers. There’s a kitchenette. I fry eggs. The hotel room is not much smaller than my apartment, so to be honest, with the door shut not a whole lot in my life has changed barring that the humidity is lower and there’s a lot more windows and a lot more sun.

Yesterday a colleague made a facebook group to try to help the bubbles of ex-pats coordinate. There is a *lot* to do in Christchurch (“Chch”) and the surrounding, provided you can find people to help you tumble out of the nest. Hence: “Antarcticans in Christchurch”, as we are, for the time being.

Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
— Matsuo Basho