A Christchurch morning

Yesterday morning, I awoke to watch the sunrise as is my tradition on my last day of a trip. With my camera in hand, I wandered over the to Christchurch Art Museum and through the old site of Canterbury University, which is now the home of the Arts Center, a complex of shops (mostly), cafes (several) and theatres (one movie, one stage). For a while, I sat on a curb and watched the birds and the people walking to work, before heading into the city center for a coffee and newspaper.

I whiled away an hour and then some and decided I would try to find the store that I'd seen a ring at two nights before. It was in an alleyway full of restaurants and shops- like many cities have now- the sort of hidden enclave of activity behind the scene.

I wandered into one area and was looking for my ring shop, but couldn't find it when I was approached by a man working who said, "Are you a lost tourist?"

"I'm trying to find a shop I was a few nights ago."

"There's another back alley like this just off Manchester." He pointed.

"Oh. Ok."

"Where are you from?"

"The U.S., North Dakota, but I'm living in Auckland right now for a year."

"Christchurch's better." He said.

"Yah, it's a lot more peaceful."

"Auckland's nice if you want to go to Hong Kong. They come over and fill up their pockets and then go home with it."

Speechless, I muttered, "Uhhh," and walked away in the opposite direction that he'd pointed.

Funny thing is, that was the second time in less than three days that someone had said that to me. Just two nights before, my bus driver home went into detail about how she didn't like the Maoris or the Asians and gave me all her reasons, filling up the space of the thirty minute busride with her monologue.

I usually don't say anything, just remain silent. I think that they might think that I agree with them, so continue on with their diatribe. I don't know what to think.

I found the shop with the ring that I'd seen the other night. It was half price, a small silver ring with a square shell inset - the shell is white with a red section that looks like an abstract heart. The storeowner was there and told me the ring was from Mexico. I have a rule to buy things from the artist who made it only, but I've made an exception in this case.

When I look at the ring, it reminds me to act with love in my heart. That it was made in Mexico reminds me of the U.S.'s connection to our brothers and sisters from the south.

I spent the flight home last night in a silent meditation, wondering if my students have been subject to this racism. (How could they not have been?) I dream of a world where it doesn't matter where you are from or what color you are, a world where we treat each other with love in our hearts.