From Christchurch, a city in the midst of a profound transformation, to the heart-stopping beauty of the Southern Alps, the Canterbury region of New Zealand’s South Island beckons anyone with an appetite for discovery.

Photographs by Christopher P. Hill

*Left to right:* A totem at the Observatory hotel’s Song of the Gods installation; pedaling past the same hotel.

It’s not often a cultural walking tour includes a stop at a convention center. But then, Te Pae, which sits on the banks of the Avon River in the rebuilt center of Christchurch, is no conventional building. With a contoured profile evoking New Zealand’s Southern Alps and a facade of thousands of herringbone tiles in alternating tones of gray—a nod to the braided riverbeds that cut through the farmland of the surrounding Canterbury Plains—the flowing design is aligned with the Māori concept of ki uta ki tai, or the interconnectedness of the environment (literally, “from the mountains to the sea”).

Opened three years ago, Te Pae is emblematic of the new urban narrative adopted by New Zealand’s second-largest city in the wake of the devastating earthquakes of 2010 and 2011, which left much of central Christchurch in ruins. While much has been rebuilt, remnants of the disaster are not hard to spot. Just across from the convention center stands one of the last eyesores on the Christchurch City Council’s Dirty 30 shame list of buildings left derelict years after the quake. Also nearby is the city’s namesake Anglican cathedral, its ravaged stone walls fenced off from the surrounding square and braced by steel girders. Too iconic to demolish, too expensive to restore, the broken landmark survives in a sort of limbo—indefinitely “mothballed,” as they say here.

Yet the downtown core is unrecognizable from the disaster zone I visited 12 years ago, when it remained cordoned off for demolition work. It is also a very different place from its pre-quake days.

“Welcome to the new Christchurch,” says Ashley Jefferys as we stand in front of Te Pae’s sinuous, vaguely X-shaped ngutu, a ceremonial entranceway designed to recall the bargeboards used on the ancestral houses of the Ngāi Tahu people, who inhabited these parts well before the first European settlers arrived. An ebullient woman of Māori and Samoan descent who guides for local tour company Āmiki Tours, Jefferys is eager to show me around a city that she says has finally embraced its multicultural milieu. “I was born and raised here, but never felt particularly welcomed,” she says. “Now, I feel like I’m a part of the change.”

The ngutu, or ceremonial entranceway, to the Te Pae Christchurch Convention Centre; lunchtime at the Tussock Hill Vineyard restaurant. — *Left to right:* The *ngutu*, or ceremonial entranceway, to the Te Pae Christchurch Convention Centre; lunchtime at the Tussock Hill Vineyard restaurant.

Located halfway down the South Island’s eastern seaboard in the Canterbury region, Christchurch once had a reputation for being the most English of New Zealand cities—a place of clacking trams, punt rides on the river, stately piles of Gothic Revival architecture, and a certain provincial quaintness, at least when compared with Auckland and Wellington. The trams and punts are still there, and surviving heritage landmarks such as the Edwardian-era Isaac Theatre Royal and the huddle of 19th-century college buildings inhabited by The Arts Centre Te Matatiki Toi Ora have been repaired and reopened. But amid the glassy new commercial buildings that have filled many of the gaps in the Christchurch cityscape, there’s now, according to Jefferys, a much more inclusive spirit that celebrates the city’s indigenous heritage as never before. Te Pae is an obvious expression of this, as is Tūranga, the new central library, whose bright, airy design includes numerous references to the social and cultural traditions of the Ngāi Tahu. Māori and Pacific talents have also made significant contributions to Christchurch’s growing collection of contemporary public art, among them Sēmisi Fetokai Potauaine, whose Vaka ’A Hina, a 16-meter-tall sculpture of weathered corten steel, rises like a lightning bolt in the midst of a major new residential development at the eastern edge of the central business district.

“More than 70 percent of our city came down,” Jefferys says. “Terrible as that was, it gave us the opportunity for a fresh start. We got to redesign Christchurch for the community we have now, not for what was placed here 150 years ago.”

Chris Wilcock, who works for the city council’s tourism marketing and economic development arm, concurs. “Christchurch has been rebuilt, but not on the same foundations,” he tells me during a hard-hat tour of the new Court Theatre building, in its final stages of completion for a planned May opening. Like Te Pae and the library across the street, the state-of-the-art performance venue (soon to be home to the country’s largest theater company) is one of more than a dozen so-called anchor projects designed to regenerate the downtown area. “What we have now is a vibrant, 21st-century multicultural city,” Wilcock continues. “And Māori voices have been part of that from the start.”

While the rebuild of Christchurch has not been without its controversies and outcries, only a curmudgeon would object to the redevelopment of the inner-city stretch of the Avon River. Now fringed by bike lanes, terraced embankments, and a two-kilometer-long pedestrian promenade, the waterway has become the city’s new locus, especially around the lower end of Oxford Terrace, where a thriving retail and restaurant precinct has emerged. Ducking into the Riverside Market, I find a buzzing, high-raftered hall filled with artisanal food stalls, coffee outlets, and wine merchants. It’s a forward-looking space that also pays tribute to the past, incorporating brick and timber reclaimed from demolished buildings. The clock above the market’s mezzanine level once graced the old Christchurch railway station. When first salvaged, the hands on its face were frozen at 4:36 a.m., the moment of Christchurch’s first big earthquake on September 4, 2010. Now, they’re ticking once more.

The city’s most talked-about restaurant is just across the river. Run by British chef Simon Levy and his New Zealand wife Lisa, Inati is an intimate, dinners-only spot serving modern European cuisine with a fresh Kiwi twist. Taking a seat at the polished brass counter that fronts the kitchen’s plating station, I watch Levy and his team prepare one artfully crafted dish after another: tender spears of asparagus drizzled in parmesan cream and black garlic; “duck trumpets” (waffle cones filled with silken duck mousse); “boeuf-nut”—a braised-beef doughnut topped with puffed beef tendon. The six-course tasting menu unfolds leisurely over the span of two hours. Chatting with the chef between courses, I learn that the Levys opened Inati in 2017, a few years after relocating to New Zealand. Their original plan was to move to Hawke’s Bay on the North Island, where Lisa grew up. So why Christchurch? “There was just so much happening here,” Levy recalls. “Christchurch was a very different place back then, but the potential was huge. And the produce from the Canterbury region is exceptional. Best truffles in the country, right on our doorstep.”

If Christchurch’s culinary offerings have been elevated in recent years, so too has its boutique-hotel scene. Top billing still goes to The George, which overlooks the expansive greenery of Hagley Park and has maintained a reputation for meticulous service since the 1980s. But it’s now got some serious competition. A couple blocks north, the Mayfair is a sleek newcomer just steps from the bars and restaurants of Victoria Street. And taking up 19th-century digs in the former Canterbury College campus (now The Arts Centre Te Matatiki Toi Ora) is The Observatory Hotel, with 33 individually designed rooms that occupy the college’s former physics, zoology, and astronomy departments. There’s no in-house restaurant, but a short stroll away is the Curator’s House, a 1920s cottage nestled in the Christchurch Botanic Gardens that dishes up tasty Spanish cuisine.

*Left to right:* A tulip at Christchurch Botanic Gardens; the city’s Oxford Terrace.

*Left to right:* The vineyard restaurant at Tussock Hill; a sitting area at The George hotel in Christchurch.

Of course, there’s more to Christchurch than its city center. One morning I drive to the coastal suburb of New Brighton to soak in the hot pools at He Puna Taimoana, not far from where a long concrete pier juts into the Pacific. Another day, after a scenic lunch at the family-owned Tussock Hill Vineyard in the hills south of town, I ride the Christchurch Gondola from its base in the Heathcote Valley to the top of Mount Cavendish, some 445 meters above sea level. From here, the views are all-encompassing: the turquoise waters of Lyttelton Harbour to the south; the long, straight stretch of New Brighton Beach to the north; and, beyond the city and the sprawling Canterbury Plains, the snow-streaked peaks of the Southern Alps.

I will make my way to the mightiest of those mountains, Aoraki/Mount Cook, in the days ahead. First, though, it is time to explore the Banks Peninsula. Formed from the remnants of two ancient volcanoes, this almost circular promontory hangs off the coast just below Christchurch in a series of rocky cliffs, incised valleys, and indented bays. From above, it resembles a vast geological cartwheel. The peninsula’s most spectacular feature is the long harbor of Akaroa, which hoves suddenly into view as I round yet another blind bend. Sheltered from the wind and waves by the slopes of a flooded caldera, it’s a beautiful and welcoming place—or so it must have seemed to the shipload of French settlers who sailed for these shores in 1840, hoping to establish the nucleus of a South Island colony. Alas for them, the British, under the Treaty of Waitangi, laid claim to the entire country while they were at sea. When the French finally dropped anchor here, they found the Union Jack already flapping above their new home.

Still, the good people of Akaroa, Canterbury’s oldest town, have long cherished their Gallic connection. Streets bear names like Rue Benoit and Fleur Lane, and the French tricolor flag hangs from quaint timber cottages. Down the road from a little police station marked gendarmerie, a real-deal boulangerie (A La Baguette) bakes divine croissants and pains au chocolat. With a resident population of about 700, Akaroa swells considerably in summer as New Zealanders flock here to swim, fish, sightsee, and take boat rides to spot fur seals and Hector’s dolphins, an endemic species that ranks among the world’s smallest cetaceans. They’re the ultimate Akaroa mascot: cute as a button and easy to love.

*Left to right:* Inside Annandale’s sleek Seascape villa; Christchurch’s New Brighton Beach.

The four-bedroom scrubby Bay villa at Annandale on the Banks Peninsula.

After a lunch of crispy-battered fish and chips at a bustling shop near the waterfront, I get back in the car for the 30-minute drive north to Annandale, the Banks Peninsula’s top lodgings. Set on a working sheep farm that covers 1,600 rolling hectares of coastal pastureland, the accommodations here are spread across five villas, including a gussied-up yet still rustic shepherd’s cottage and an exquisitely secluded cedar-clad beach house called Scrubby Bay. I’ve snagged a stay at the Homestead, a five-bedroom Victorian structure dating from 1884. Set amid orchards and English-style gardens on the shores of Pigeon Bay, it combines a splendid old-worldliness with informality and such contemporary luxuries as a sleek outdoor infinity pool and glass-walled gym. There’s no restaurant at Annandale; instead, gourmet farm-to-table meals are prepared by the chef and delivered to your villa’s kitchen for you to serve yourself, further upping the privacy factor.

My visit comes just a few weeks after lambing season, and the countryside is dotted with gamboling kids and their mindful mothers. (Delightfully, I get the chance to milk feed a pair of sibling lambs, Shaun and Baabaara, that Annandale is raising as pets). Apart from walks or bike rides around the property, there’s not much to do except relax and give yourself over to the quietude and beauty of the place. And that’s the point. “Guests often come here with plans to do this or see that. We try to encourage them to stay put and soak it all in, to just be,” says Helen Bolton, Annandale’s reservations manager. “Usually, they get it just on the day they have to leave.”

I, for one, could have happily spent the rest of the week at Annandale, wandering the pastures or taking in the bay’s sparkly waters from the veranda at the Homestead. But another of the region’s most exclusive stays awaits: Otahuna Lodge. Heading back in the direction of Christchurch, I turn off at Tai Tapu and enter a pastoral valley framed by the western hills of the Banks Peninsula, where the Queen Anne–style country house sits among 12 hectares of gardens, woodlands, and neatly groomed lawns. Originally built for local dignitary politician Sir Heaton Rhodes in 1895, the mansion—said to be New Zealand’s largest private historic residence—changed hands several times before two savvy New Yorkers, Miles Refo and Hall Cannon, bought the rundown property in 2006 and set about restoring it as a seven-suite lodge. I’ve stayed here before, on that trip 12 years ago, but it still floors me, from the entry hall’s grand kauri-wood staircase to the ornate dining room, with its original Victorian wallpaper, inglenook, and lead-glass windows.

As befits such lavish digs, the food is excellent, with pretty much every ingredient sourced from the estate. That night, in the drawing room at the base of an octagonal turret, I dine on kingfish crudo, garden-fresh asparagus in a pool of chive emulsion, and beef with oxtail tortellini and portobellos from the kitchen’s mushroom hut. The accompanying wines, including a ruby-red cab franc from North Canterbury, are also very good—perhaps too good given the flights of stairs I must negotiate to get to my room in the manse’s garret. Once the servants’ quarters, the Loft Suite has been revamped since my last visit, its timber-paneled walls and angled ceilings painted an airy white, the decor enlivened by specially commissioned art, cheery pops of green, and a headboard covered in vintage chinoiserie fabric. I slide open a wardrobe to discover a hidden door with NARNIA painted on it. For the umpteenth time during my short stay at Otahuna, I find myself smiling.

*Left to right:* Miles Refo and Hall Cannon, the owners of Otahuna Lodge; estate-grown asparagus with guanciale and chive emulsion, also at Otahuna.

*Left to right:* The grand staircase at Otahuna Lodge; the summit of Aoraki/Mount Cook seen during a flightseeing tour with Air Safaris.

*Left to right:* Otahuna Lodge; a pork-belly pie with applesauce from the Fairlie Bakehouse.

At the Western reaches of the Canterbury Plains, the cultivated landscape gives way to the foothills of the Southern Alps. On the advice of the concierge at The George hotel, I make my way there leisurely, veering away from the highway to glimpse the rushing glacial waters of Rakaia Gorge and walk among blooming rhododendrons at the Awa Awa Rata Reserve near Mount Hutt. Another recommended stop is the Fairlie Bakehouse, which has achieved near-legendary status for its savory pies. (They’re well worth the queue).

Beyond Fairlie, the road ascends to Burkes Pass and the high country of Canterbury’s Mackenzie Basin, a vast tract of tussock grasslands, electric-blue lakes, and Tolkienesque mountainscapes. This is the rugged heart of the South Island. I spend the night in Tekapo, a lakeside tourist town renowned for its little fieldstone church and fresh-air activities. Stargazing is one: the entire basin (along with the adjacent Aoraki/Mount Cook National Park) has been designated a dark-sky reserve, meaning it’s one of the best places on the planet to observe the heavens. At 9:30 p.m. sharp I’m picked up by a guide from Silver River Stargazing for a drive deep into the inky countryside. With a gibbous moon arcing brightly overhead, conditions aren’t optimal for constellation spotting. But we are treated to an impressive display of the aurora australis—the southern counterpart of the northern lights—as it dances in undulating waves of green and purple above the horizon.

The following morning, I saddle up with an outfit called Mackenzie Alpine Horses for a pleasant two-and-a-half hour trek around the pastoral flanks of Mount John to the shores of Lake Tekapo. I’m also scheduled to take a scenic flight over Aoraki/Mount Cook National Park, until a WhatsApp message informs me that the trip has been canceled due to strong winds and heavy cloud cover. Disappointed by the news, I get back in the car for the 40-minute drive to Twizel and my B&B for the night, the delightful Matuka Lodge, where I console myself with watching ducks in the trout pond out back. Dinner that night is a “glacier to plate” affair at a place called Logans, part of a family-run salmon farm that floats on gelid lake waters just outside town. My appetite whetted by the high country’s pure air, I order the signature Fish Plank—a wooden board overflowing with beetroot-cured salmon, roasted shellfish, smoked salmon pâté, and fritto misto with yuzu mayo.

One last adventure (or so I suppose) awaits me the next morning at Aoraki/Mount Cook National Park, some 60 kilometers to the north. At the storied Hermitage hotel in the park’s main village, I join Glacier Explorers for a tour of Tasman Lake, formed just decades ago by the retreat of New Zealand’s largest glacier. After a short bus ride and a hike through a landscape of thorny matagouri bushes and rocky moraine, our group arrives at a jetty and climbs aboard bright-yellow boats. Over the next hour, we zoom around glinting icebergs and approach (at a cautious distance) the rampart of ancient ice at the glacier’s terminus. Ancient, but not eternal, as our skipper reminds us; glaciology is a complicated science, but at its current rate of retreat, some observers expect the Tasman Glacier to all but disappear by the end of the century, if not sooner.

Mulling that on shore, I receive another message from the folks at Air Safaris, this time letting me know that flights are back on, should I care to join. An hour or so later, I roll up to the company’s little airport outside Tekapo and board a 13-seater Cessna Caravan for an aerial view of the landscape I just traversed by car. We soar over braided rivers and long, finger-like lakes, over sweeping glacial valleys and meltwater streams. I watch the plane’s shadow flicker across the debris-covered tongue of the Tasman Glacier far below, the house- size icebergs in its terminus lake sparkling like tiny crystals. Up we climb into the heart of the Southern Alps. Most of the mountaintops are veiled by cloud. But then Aoraki/Mount Cook, the country’s highest peak, breaks through a billow of cumulus, filling my window with its rocky crevasses and ice-bound pinnacles, seemingly close enough to touch.

It’s a fitting crescendo to my trip, and I dare not blink, lest the magic of the moment vanishes.

A horseback ride with Mackenzie Alpine Horses.

*Left to right:* The living room at Matuka Lodge, near Twizel; the Tasman River flowing into the northern end of Lake Pukaki.

*Left to right:* A Glacier Explorers guide; alpine scenery near Tasman Lake in Aoraki/Mount Cook National Park.

Canterbury Counsel

GETTING THERE

Christchurch Airport is connected to major cities in Australia as well as to Singapore via daily flights by Singapore Airlines.

WHERE TO STAY

Annandale
Accommodations at this working coastal farm range from a restored five-bedroom homestead to remote seaside villas (from US$665 a night).

The Mayfair
A sleek new boutique bolt-hole on Christchurch’s Victoria Street (from US$175 a night).

Otahuna Lodge
Just a 25-minute drive from central Christchurch, this historic country house is filled with character and complemented by beautiful gardens and fine food and wine (from US$1,600 a night, all-inclusive, except lunch).

The George
With its unbeatable location across from Hagley Park, The George has long been one of Christchurch’s top billets. On-site restaurant 50 Bistro is rightly renowned for its contemporary Kiwi cuisine (from US$250 a night).

The Observatory Hotel
Set amid the Gothic revival walls of Christchurch’s Arts Centre, this 33-room heritage property is decorated with panache, featuring William Morris fabrics, vivid colors, and locally crafted furniture (from US$195 a night).

Tekapo Lakefront Studios & Suites
Apartment-style accommodation on the shores of Lake Tekapo (from US$160 a night).

Matuka Lodge
A tranquil four-room retreat in the countryside outside Twizel, with front-row views of the southern Alps (from US$390 a night).

WHERE TO EAT

Curator’s House
A cozy 1920s cottage within the Christchurch Botanic Gardens sets the stage for classic Spanish cuisine.

Inati
An intimate fine-dining establishment helmed by the onetime head chef of Gordon Ramsay’s The Warrington in London.

Tussock Hill
Set on a small vineyard in the Port hills south of central Christchurch, this lunchtime restaurant is an upscale choice for seasonal small plates that spotlight regional produce.

WHAT TO DO

Air Safaris
Epic flightseeing tours over new Zealand’s highest mountains.

Silver River Stargazing
This company’s small-group tours offer some of the best stargazing on the planet.

Mackenzie Alpine Horses
Thirty-minute to four-hour horseback treks in the countryside around Lake Tekapo.

Glacier Explorers
These thrilling boat tours explore the glacial waters of Tasman Lake.

This article originally appeared in the March/May 2025 print issue of DestinAsian magazine (“Canterbury Calling”). Buy a single issue or subscribe here.

Discovering the Kiwi Magic of New Zealand’s Canterbury Region

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