Snow action vs classy city. Which New Zealand tourist hub is for you?

The Advertiser

09-05-2025

One's a flat-out party town, the other an English-style slice of gentility. So which of these New Zealand hubs is for you?
By Mal Chenu
This battle of the South Island cities boils down to class versus crass. I asked my mate Dean, who was born in Christchurch, to compare the pair. "What's the best thing about Christchurch?" I asked. "No bloody Queenstowners!" he replied, before launching into a rant about expensive coffee, fat golfers, backpackers and ski bums. While Christchurch is not bereft of Dean's targets, New Zealand's second biggest city is more like a little slice of genteel England, even to the point where you can punt on the Avon. This is not gambling on whether the cosmetics salesladies are making a comeback but rather a tranquil excursion on an old-time river punt, pole steered by a classically attired punter in a jacket, tie, suspenders and straw boater. And if you don't like a punt, you can take a guided tour in a hand-crafted Maori waka, or row, row, row your own boat, kayak or stand-up paddle board.
Christchurch is known as the Garden City and is on the bouquet list of petal-heads the world over. The Avon punts wind their way through Christchurch Botanic Gardens (New Zealand's finest), and in spring the city's famous cherry blossoms burst forth at Hagley Park and Kurashiki Garden.
Restored and rebuilt after the devastating 2011 earthquake, Christchurch now rocks metaphorically. The city's flat, grid structure makes getting around easier than beating the Wallabies in a Bledisloe Cup match. While they haven't played a Bledisloe match here since the 'quake, Australia hasn't beaten the All Blacks in Christchurch here since 1913, as Dean is fond of reminding me.
The Canterbury region pulsates for their almost unbeatable Crusaders, too. If you're a rugger bugger who likes your footy one-sided with a healthy dose of sleet (and who doesn't?) the current temporary stadium is the place for you.
Christchurch is a university town of refined taste and high culture, of street murals and public spaces, of craft breweries and food trails, of endless gardens and rolling countryside. Of music recitals and memorable scones.
A typical day might include an artisanal cheese tasting, catching a heritage tram to a gallery opening, designer shopping at Ballantynes in Cashel Street, a stroll along the photogenic New Regent Street pedestrian mall, and a fine dining experience around the Chef's Table at Inati restaurant, where you can pair your duck trumpets and tamarillo jam with a Bell Hill pinot noir.
Meanwhile, your day in Queenstown, which exudes an intermingled redolence of midlife crisis, bravado, legal waivers and Red Bull, involves queuing with sweaty mamils for a $15 coffee, sitting in traffic, listening to people scream as they bungy jump, jet boat and paraglide, and queuing again for a Fergburger which, Dean grudgingly admits, is worth the wait.
By Amy Cooper
Confession: I've had a few winter trips to Queenstown, but I've never hit the ski slopes there. This is snow joke - although I know it's hard to believe when Coronet Peak's exhilarating roller coaster terrain awaits just 20 minutes up the road, and seven thrilling parks at The Remarkables (the clue's in the name) beckon from just a little farther.
These spectacular alpine playgrounds, along with Cardrona's 40 kilometres of slopes and the hair-raising 700-metre vertical at Treble Cone, the southern hemisphere's largest ski field, make Queenstown the south island's cream of the drop. I always go with every intention of getting on the piste. But there are just too many other kinds of fun to be had in New Zealand's adrenaline capital.
Queenstown is teeny - more than 10 times smaller than Christchurch. But the little alpine town's gargantuan appetite for good times dwarfs even the towering alps surrounding its stunning perch on the shores of Lake Wakatipu. Activities span the entire spectrum of stimulation, from bungy plunging 43 metres above the Kawarau River to hurtling in a jetboat through vast canyons along the churning Shotover River to white water rafting, luge riding, mountain biking and a million other things that make you scream, whoop, weep and giggle.
The action's unleashed the moment you disembark at Queenstown airport, discover you're in a place where Uber is for sissies and transfer into town on a KJet jetboat, spinning 360s up Lake Wakatipu like a crazy toy right to your hotel jetty. Having overdosed on endorphins before you've even unpacked, you'll find you're within walking distance of at least 100 bars. Queenstown, with the country's highest density of watering holes, has one for every 75 people. These establishments tend to start the evening as deceptively hygge nooks with hearths and congenial chat, then morph into all-out banging nightclub vortexes that spin you round and fling you out to munch a legendary Fergburger before pulling you back into a party that's raged unabated since the 1860s gold rush. At some point you'll emerge, only to remember you're within 20 minutes of 75 wineries, and that Central Otago makes some of the world's finest pinot noir - and off you go again.
Maybe, after sipping sublime drops at cellar doors like Amisfield and Chard Farm, you might squeeze in a blissful dip in onsen baths with panoramic views. Or ride in the Skyline Gondola up to Bob's Peak after dark to gaze in wonder at the galaxy and toast the stars with mulled wine. And then you'll find, like me, that you're out of time again. Next visit, you swear, you'll ski. But really you know that Queenstown's relentless revelry will divert you for decades or more until finally you slow down, or your knees fail. And then you'll be ready for Christchurch.
One's a flat-out party town, the other an English-style slice of gentility. So which of these New Zealand hubs is for you?
By Mal Chenu
This battle of the South Island cities boils down to class versus crass. I asked my mate Dean, who was born in Christchurch, to compare the pair. "What's the best thing about Christchurch?" I asked. "No bloody Queenstowners!" he replied, before launching into a rant about expensive coffee, fat golfers, backpackers and ski bums. While Christchurch is not bereft of Dean's targets, New Zealand's second biggest city is more like a little slice of genteel England, even to the point where you can punt on the Avon. This is not gambling on whether the cosmetics salesladies are making a comeback but rather a tranquil excursion on an old-time river punt, pole steered by a classically attired punter in a jacket, tie, suspenders and straw boater. And if you don't like a punt, you can take a guided tour in a hand-crafted Maori waka, or row, row, row your own boat, kayak or stand-up paddle board.
Christchurch is known as the Garden City and is on the bouquet list of petal-heads the world over. The Avon punts wind their way through Christchurch Botanic Gardens (New Zealand's finest), and in spring the city's famous cherry blossoms burst forth at Hagley Park and Kurashiki Garden.
Restored and rebuilt after the devastating 2011 earthquake, Christchurch now rocks metaphorically. The city's flat, grid structure makes getting around easier than beating the Wallabies in a Bledisloe Cup match. While they haven't played a Bledisloe match here since the 'quake, Australia hasn't beaten the All Blacks in Christchurch here since 1913, as Dean is fond of reminding me.
The Canterbury region pulsates for their almost unbeatable Crusaders, too. If you're a rugger bugger who likes your footy one-sided with a healthy dose of sleet (and who doesn't?) the current temporary stadium is the place for you.
Christchurch is a university town of refined taste and high culture, of street murals and public spaces, of craft breweries and food trails, of endless gardens and rolling countryside. Of music recitals and memorable scones.
A typical day might include an artisanal cheese tasting, catching a heritage tram to a gallery opening, designer shopping at Ballantynes in Cashel Street, a stroll along the photogenic New Regent Street pedestrian mall, and a fine dining experience around the Chef's Table at Inati restaurant, where you can pair your duck trumpets and tamarillo jam with a Bell Hill pinot noir.
Meanwhile, your day in Queenstown, which exudes an intermingled redolence of midlife crisis, bravado, legal waivers and Red Bull, involves queuing with sweaty mamils for a $15 coffee, sitting in traffic, listening to people scream as they bungy jump, jet boat and paraglide, and queuing again for a Fergburger which, Dean grudgingly admits, is worth the wait.
By Amy Cooper
Confession: I've had a few winter trips to Queenstown, but I've never hit the ski slopes there. This is snow joke - although I know it's hard to believe when Coronet Peak's exhilarating roller coaster terrain awaits just 20 minutes up the road, and seven thrilling parks at The Remarkables (the clue's in the name) beckon from just a little farther.
These spectacular alpine playgrounds, along with Cardrona's 40 kilometres of slopes and the hair-raising 700-metre vertical at Treble Cone, the southern hemisphere's largest ski field, make Queenstown the south island's cream of the drop. I always go with every intention of getting on the piste. But there are just too many other kinds of fun to be had in New Zealand's adrenaline capital.
Queenstown is teeny - more than 10 times smaller than Christchurch. But the little alpine town's gargantuan appetite for good times dwarfs even the towering alps surrounding its stunning perch on the shores of Lake Wakatipu. Activities span the entire spectrum of stimulation, from bungy plunging 43 metres above the Kawarau River to hurtling in a jetboat through vast canyons along the churning Shotover River to white water rafting, luge riding, mountain biking and a million other things that make you scream, whoop, weep and giggle.
The action's unleashed the moment you disembark at Queenstown airport, discover you're in a place where Uber is for sissies and transfer into town on a KJet jetboat, spinning 360s up Lake Wakatipu like a crazy toy right to your hotel jetty. Having overdosed on endorphins before you've even unpacked, you'll find you're within walking distance of at least 100 bars. Queenstown, with the country's highest density of watering holes, has one for every 75 people. These establishments tend to start the evening as deceptively hygge nooks with hearths and congenial chat, then morph into all-out banging nightclub vortexes that spin you round and fling you out to munch a legendary Fergburger before pulling you back into a party that's raged unabated since the 1860s gold rush. At some point you'll emerge, only to remember you're within 20 minutes of 75 wineries, and that Central Otago makes some of the world's finest pinot noir - and off you go again.
Maybe, after sipping sublime drops at cellar doors like Amisfield and Chard Farm, you might squeeze in a blissful dip in onsen baths with panoramic views. Or ride in the Skyline Gondola up to Bob's Peak after dark to gaze in wonder at the galaxy and toast the stars with mulled wine. And then you'll find, like me, that you're out of time again. Next visit, you swear, you'll ski. But really you know that Queenstown's relentless revelry will divert you for decades or more until finally you slow down, or your knees fail. And then you'll be ready for Christchurch.
One's a flat-out party town, the other an English-style slice of gentility. So which of these New Zealand hubs is for you?
By Mal Chenu
This battle of the South Island cities boils down to class versus crass. I asked my mate Dean, who was born in Christchurch, to compare the pair. "What's the best thing about Christchurch?" I asked. "No bloody Queenstowners!" he replied, before launching into a rant about expensive coffee, fat golfers, backpackers and ski bums. While Christchurch is not bereft of Dean's targets, New Zealand's second biggest city is more like a little slice of genteel England, even to the point where you can punt on the Avon. This is not gambling on whether the cosmetics salesladies are making a comeback but rather a tranquil excursion on an old-time river punt, pole steered by a classically attired punter in a jacket, tie, suspenders and straw boater. And if you don't like a punt, you can take a guided tour in a hand-crafted Maori waka, or row, row, row your own boat, kayak or stand-up paddle board.
Christchurch is known as the Garden City and is on the bouquet list of petal-heads the world over. The Avon punts wind their way through Christchurch Botanic Gardens (New Zealand's finest), and in spring the city's famous cherry blossoms burst forth at Hagley Park and Kurashiki Garden.
Restored and rebuilt after the devastating 2011 earthquake, Christchurch now rocks metaphorically. The city's flat, grid structure makes getting around easier than beating the Wallabies in a Bledisloe Cup match. While they haven't played a Bledisloe match here since the 'quake, Australia hasn't beaten the All Blacks in Christchurch here since 1913, as Dean is fond of reminding me.
The Canterbury region pulsates for their almost unbeatable Crusaders, too. If you're a rugger bugger who likes your footy one-sided with a healthy dose of sleet (and who doesn't?) the current temporary stadium is the place for you.
Christchurch is a university town of refined taste and high culture, of street murals and public spaces, of craft breweries and food trails, of endless gardens and rolling countryside. Of music recitals and memorable scones.
A typical day might include an artisanal cheese tasting, catching a heritage tram to a gallery opening, designer shopping at Ballantynes in Cashel Street, a stroll along the photogenic New Regent Street pedestrian mall, and a fine dining experience around the Chef's Table at Inati restaurant, where you can pair your duck trumpets and tamarillo jam with a Bell Hill pinot noir.
Meanwhile, your day in Queenstown, which exudes an intermingled redolence of midlife crisis, bravado, legal waivers and Red Bull, involves queuing with sweaty mamils for a $15 coffee, sitting in traffic, listening to people scream as they bungy jump, jet boat and paraglide, and queuing again for a Fergburger which, Dean grudgingly admits, is worth the wait.
By Amy Cooper
Confession: I've had a few winter trips to Queenstown, but I've never hit the ski slopes there. This is snow joke - although I know it's hard to believe when Coronet Peak's exhilarating roller coaster terrain awaits just 20 minutes up the road, and seven thrilling parks at The Remarkables (the clue's in the name) beckon from just a little farther.
These spectacular alpine playgrounds, along with Cardrona's 40 kilometres of slopes and the hair-raising 700-metre vertical at Treble Cone, the southern hemisphere's largest ski field, make Queenstown the south island's cream of the drop. I always go with every intention of getting on the piste. But there are just too many other kinds of fun to be had in New Zealand's adrenaline capital.
Queenstown is teeny - more than 10 times smaller than Christchurch. But the little alpine town's gargantuan appetite for good times dwarfs even the towering alps surrounding its stunning perch on the shores of Lake Wakatipu. Activities span the entire spectrum of stimulation, from bungy plunging 43 metres above the Kawarau River to hurtling in a jetboat through vast canyons along the churning Shotover River to white water rafting, luge riding, mountain biking and a million other things that make you scream, whoop, weep and giggle.
The action's unleashed the moment you disembark at Queenstown airport, discover you're in a place where Uber is for sissies and transfer into town on a KJet jetboat, spinning 360s up Lake Wakatipu like a crazy toy right to your hotel jetty. Having overdosed on endorphins before you've even unpacked, you'll find you're within walking distance of at least 100 bars. Queenstown, with the country's highest density of watering holes, has one for every 75 people. These establishments tend to start the evening as deceptively hygge nooks with hearths and congenial chat, then morph into all-out banging nightclub vortexes that spin you round and fling you out to munch a legendary Fergburger before pulling you back into a party that's raged unabated since the 1860s gold rush. At some point you'll emerge, only to remember you're within 20 minutes of 75 wineries, and that Central Otago makes some of the world's finest pinot noir - and off you go again.
Maybe, after sipping sublime drops at cellar doors like Amisfield and Chard Farm, you might squeeze in a blissful dip in onsen baths with panoramic views. Or ride in the Skyline Gondola up to Bob's Peak after dark to gaze in wonder at the galaxy and toast the stars with mulled wine. And then you'll find, like me, that you're out of time again. Next visit, you swear, you'll ski. But really you know that Queenstown's relentless revelry will divert you for decades or more until finally you slow down, or your knees fail. And then you'll be ready for Christchurch.
One's a flat-out party town, the other an English-style slice of gentility. So which of these New Zealand hubs is for you?
By Mal Chenu
This battle of the South Island cities boils down to class versus crass. I asked my mate Dean, who was born in Christchurch, to compare the pair. "What's the best thing about Christchurch?" I asked. "No bloody Queenstowners!" he replied, before launching into a rant about expensive coffee, fat golfers, backpackers and ski bums. While Christchurch is not bereft of Dean's targets, New Zealand's second biggest city is more like a little slice of genteel England, even to the point where you can punt on the Avon. This is not gambling on whether the cosmetics salesladies are making a comeback but rather a tranquil excursion on an old-time river punt, pole steered by a classically attired punter in a jacket, tie, suspenders and straw boater. And if you don't like a punt, you can take a guided tour in a hand-crafted Maori waka, or row, row, row your own boat, kayak or stand-up paddle board.
Christchurch is known as the Garden City and is on the bouquet list of petal-heads the world over. The Avon punts wind their way through Christchurch Botanic Gardens (New Zealand's finest), and in spring the city's famous cherry blossoms burst forth at Hagley Park and Kurashiki Garden.
Restored and rebuilt after the devastating 2011 earthquake, Christchurch now rocks metaphorically. The city's flat, grid structure makes getting around easier than beating the Wallabies in a Bledisloe Cup match. While they haven't played a Bledisloe match here since the 'quake, Australia hasn't beaten the All Blacks in Christchurch here since 1913, as Dean is fond of reminding me.
The Canterbury region pulsates for their almost unbeatable Crusaders, too. If you're a rugger bugger who likes your footy one-sided with a healthy dose of sleet (and who doesn't?) the current temporary stadium is the place for you.
Christchurch is a university town of refined taste and high culture, of street murals and public spaces, of craft breweries and food trails, of endless gardens and rolling countryside. Of music recitals and memorable scones.
A typical day might include an artisanal cheese tasting, catching a heritage tram to a gallery opening, designer shopping at Ballantynes in Cashel Street, a stroll along the photogenic New Regent Street pedestrian mall, and a fine dining experience around the Chef's Table at Inati restaurant, where you can pair your duck trumpets and tamarillo jam with a Bell Hill pinot noir.
Meanwhile, your day in Queenstown, which exudes an intermingled redolence of midlife crisis, bravado, legal waivers and Red Bull, involves queuing with sweaty mamils for a $15 coffee, sitting in traffic, listening to people scream as they bungy jump, jet boat and paraglide, and queuing again for a Fergburger which, Dean grudgingly admits, is worth the wait.
By Amy Cooper
Confession: I've had a few winter trips to Queenstown, but I've never hit the ski slopes there. This is snow joke - although I know it's hard to believe when Coronet Peak's exhilarating roller coaster terrain awaits just 20 minutes up the road, and seven thrilling parks at The Remarkables (the clue's in the name) beckon from just a little farther.
These spectacular alpine playgrounds, along with Cardrona's 40 kilometres of slopes and the hair-raising 700-metre vertical at Treble Cone, the southern hemisphere's largest ski field, make Queenstown the south island's cream of the drop. I always go with every intention of getting on the piste. But there are just too many other kinds of fun to be had in New Zealand's adrenaline capital.
Queenstown is teeny - more than 10 times smaller than Christchurch. But the little alpine town's gargantuan appetite for good times dwarfs even the towering alps surrounding its stunning perch on the shores of Lake Wakatipu. Activities span the entire spectrum of stimulation, from bungy plunging 43 metres above the Kawarau River to hurtling in a jetboat through vast canyons along the churning Shotover River to white water rafting, luge riding, mountain biking and a million other things that make you scream, whoop, weep and giggle.
The action's unleashed the moment you disembark at Queenstown airport, discover you're in a place where Uber is for sissies and transfer into town on a KJet jetboat, spinning 360s up Lake Wakatipu like a crazy toy right to your hotel jetty. Having overdosed on endorphins before you've even unpacked, you'll find you're within walking distance of at least 100 bars. Queenstown, with the country's highest density of watering holes, has one for every 75 people. These establishments tend to start the evening as deceptively hygge nooks with hearths and congenial chat, then morph into all-out banging nightclub vortexes that spin you round and fling you out to munch a legendary Fergburger before pulling you back into a party that's raged unabated since the 1860s gold rush. At some point you'll emerge, only to remember you're within 20 minutes of 75 wineries, and that Central Otago makes some of the world's finest pinot noir - and off you go again.
Maybe, after sipping sublime drops at cellar doors like Amisfield and Chard Farm, you might squeeze in a blissful dip in onsen baths with panoramic views. Or ride in the Skyline Gondola up to Bob's Peak after dark to gaze in wonder at the galaxy and toast the stars with mulled wine. And then you'll find, like me, that you're out of time again. Next visit, you swear, you'll ski. But really you know that Queenstown's relentless revelry will divert you for decades or more until finally you slow down, or your knees fail. And then you'll be ready for Christchurch.