Two days.

That's how much lying around in a hotel room it's taken to get some energy back (or put differently, how much lying around in a hotel room I can take). Maybe it was last night's revelation of steak and a Rob Roy for dinner. Maybe it's the stellar recommendation and gift of a Murakami book from a friend. Maybe it was Skyping with a near two year-old who shouted "UNCLE WAN!" when she saw me for the first time in five months. Maybe it's a combination of all of them. Maybe it's none of them. Maybe it's that inflection point in most transitions that makes sliding toward the next thing feel closer than climbing away from the last thing.

Whatever it is, I've got three days left in Christchurch and I'm not just ready to be out of Antarctica, but I'm ready to be here. I don't remember the last time warm breezes and the smell of flora hit me so hard. I have a breakfast joint within walking distance of my hotel. Parks and a museum and some medical tests await. And I've got time to sort out mailing stuff home and the next couple weeks of travel tickets. Then I'll be ready to be in Australia.