On the second day we entered the river canyon. Intricately shaped stone walls, carved by eons of floods, tower above us, their surfaces thick with ferns, mosses and even impossible trees. After a brief but heavy rainfall everything glistened and dripped. The canyon narrowed and seemed to close in over top of us. The feeling was vaguely familiar and I remembered youthful trips amongst the dense greenery of the Winnipeg city park conservatory. And even as I turned to Joy saying that it was like being in a conservatory I realized that a conservatory was desperately trying to be like here.
Bridge to Nowhere, to visit see http://www.dataplace.to/newhotel.asp?id=4442
The power of captured plants, of imposed place names and land dreams, of overwritten history create illusions of how things should be. However on the front lines of colonialism, it is anything but clear what has been going on. And what continues to go on today.
For my daughter's thoughts on the same trip see her February 14, 2010 blog at http://erinandstepheninnewzealand.blogspot.com/