In Christchurch on the South Island, I stayed at a charming Bed & Breakfast adjacent to and owned by a historic pub called Pomeroy’s on Kilmore.
The place smelled of cinnamon apple. Not some crappy cinnamon apple candle, genuine cinnamon apple. It looked out on a little garden.
Across the street was the Avon River, wending it’s way through the center of town.
Here’s the sun setting behind the Avon.