PERFECTION ON THE TRANZALPINE
The conversation behind me made my Kiwi heart swell with pride, especially when I detected the broad Aussie accents of the middle-aged couple.
“I never expected the trip to be quite so spectacular,” the woman said.
“Bloody bonzer,” was the reply from her husband.
We were disembarking from the TranzAlpine train in Greymouth after a five-hour journey from Christchurch.
It was a sparkling clear spring day with a fresh coating of snow on the Alps so the Aussie couple had just witnessed perfection. There were many faces aglow, mainly foreign, after the trip.
That morning, on the dot of 8.15am, the train glided smoothly out of the station. The twin diesel locomotives pulling the 10 or so carriages quickly gathered speed as we whizzed through suburban Christchurch at the start of
