I spent 10 days in Invercargill volunteering with in conjunction with students from the Cal Habitat for Humanity group and the local Invercargill Habitat affiliate. What I didn't know before I got there was that New Zealand's southernmost city also has the reputation of being its most hickish city, or "bogone" as they would say. The downtown looked like a spruced up version of the American Old West -- elaborately done facades with forgotten, unfinished building sides, wooden overhangs to presumably protect the unsuspecting pedestrian from the rains that never seemed to cease, and long, thin wooden poles supporting buildings faces proclaiming wares in all capitals.
Sleepy at best, Invercargill's charm did not lie in its architecture or its attractions -- the most famous being the museum's age-old tuatara lizard named Henry -- but rather its people. Every person I met, whether young or old, was warm, gracious, and inviting. Les and Kaye -- the Global Village coordinators -- were an amazing couple who showed us what it's like to be married for 30 years and still be madly in love. Andrew, who drove us back and forth from the Tuatara Lodge to the worksite, was goofy and loquacious, always telling stories that he considered hilarious and we laughted at, sometimes only because we couldn't seem to penetrate his thick Auckland accent. Kenny, the 19 year old builder's apprentice, a self-proclaimed "bad guy trying to be a good guy" who we thought was a 25-year-old stoic upon first impression, but who turned out to be shy, regretful, and painfully introverted to the point of not understanding why other people would even want to associate with him (though giggly and pleasant all the same). Very naive, very nice, and very troubled about his past, but trying to reform and redeem himself. All the other regulars at the worksite -- Vince, Sheldon, Brenda, and the various people who did the devotions in the mornings. Sheldon's aunt and uncle, who opened up their farm to let us pet their sheep and admire the neighbor's "boring" boar. The worker at the hostel -- Des -- who let us take over the lobby/restaurant space downstairs on a Sunday evening to serve a banquet to the Habitat family (Trish the "mamma," Jacob the wannabe gangster, Samuel/Hams the retired gangster (but "a Crip for life" in his heart), Daniel aka "Danny Boy," Santana the little girl who at last learned to climb the barbed wire fence, and two younger kids, one boy, one girl, who we never really met) and the other volunteers and coordinators and supporters. I did not meet a mean Kiwi, and I'm not talking about the birds or the fruit.
Most in the town seemed innocent and genuinely curious about the rest of the world. Although admittedly quite "away from it all," in more than one sense of the phrase, Invercargill was ultimately a charming small town. Yet, I must say, I would not recommend going there without a specific purpose -- there really isn't too much to hold your attention for very long.
The Queen's Park is well-maintained with a nice rose garden -- those with bee allergies beware -- and it boasts an amazing playground to waste time at in the middle of the night, whether inebriated or just plain giddy. Great climbing trees, mysterious fountains, and a remarkably out-of-place Japanese rock garden. I'd have to say, though, that the highlight of Invercargill was its ExLux fully-automatic public restrooms, in which elevator jazz music plays while you do your business. They come very highly recommended.
|
 |  Map and Photos for New Zealand: the Better Britons of the South |  |
| | Tip: Use arrow keys to flip through the slideshow. |
Ratings for |   |
| |
|
