Wellington – Bore Da
Before Andy and I said goodbye in Brisbane (oh, don’t, I’ll start crying again…), we’d given each other loads and loads of hints on what to see, what to do, where to stay, where not to stay, and so on, for the countries we’d already been to that the other would visit. Within about 10 minutes of meeting him, he’d regaled me with stories of how much he loved Wellington, seemingly because he’d managed to find the sole Welsh bar in the Southern hemisphere. The owners, staff, and other regulars became good friends (no choice really with him spending so much time in there), and so, I had my orders to go in and say hello.
The first day in Wellington, I admit, I found it difficult to like. I went to the national museum, Te Papa, which was wonderful, and packed to the rafters with NZ history from both Maori and white settlers. I found it’s a bit too much talked up in the guide books though – they advise it would take more than a day to see it, when in fact I’d seen it all in one morning. My favourite exhibition was a Constable Paintings special show, which were just wonderful and made me feel not a small amount homesick, especially those beautiful, luminous pictures he’d done of the Lake District.
I had a glass of wine in Mac’s brewery (another instruction), and whiled away a couple of hours. When I came out, though, it was pouring down, and the rain, the homesickness, and just being in Wellington, didn’t put me in the best mood, so I gave up on the day, went and had a long soak in a hot bath in my hostel (a real first for a hostel to have a bath), and had an early night.
The next day was better, and I set about more sightseeing. A lovely breakfast on Cuba Street – known for its gorgeous coffee shops and boutiques – had me smiling. One of the career options I’m tossing about in my mind right now is a coffee shop, and this one was EXACTLY the kind of thing I would love to run, were it to become a reality. We’ll see. I had a general wander round town, soaking up the artsy atmosphere.
That night, I swallowed my (English) nerves, and headed into the Welsh bar. I knew the names of everyone I had to say hello to, and had even memorised the name of the place Andy comes from (English people, have a go at how you’d pronounce Tonyrefail. I can guarantee you, you won’t even be close). Luckily it was a quiet night in there, and it was a delight to meet everyone. Jo, the owner and Andy’s New Zealand mum, came over and took my hands, and said how lovely it was to meet me – I even got a glass of wine on the house, so Andy must have done something right – and before too long, I was laughing away like old friends with Jo, Mike, Scottish Duncan, and Terry, who would take so much explaining I haven’t got room here! Lovely people, all of them. They even let me sign the Welsh flag!
The next couple of days were more of the same really – sightseeing during the day (I even made it up yet another cable car, though this time was less impressive), people watching and daydreaming from Cuba Street coffee shops, and the Welsh bar at night (it becomes a habit after a while!). I’d been promised a big Friday night out by Scottish Duncan, and he certainly delivered on that – we started off in the Welsh Bar, by the time we left we were singing “delilah” with great gusto, and moved on to Kitty O’Shea’s, another local drinking spot, only this time with a dance floor. We busted some moves on the dance floor – Duncan’s a big bear of a guy, and I remember he kept picking me up and swinging me around – and all was going great guns until someone stood on my toe – yes THAT toe that was broken in Vietnam and then stubbed – and took half my toenail off. And man, does that bleed. Painful yes, but the blood’s the worst thing. Luckily it’s the top end that’s come off, so hopefully it’ll just grow back. After that I lost my enthusiasm for the night, so took myself back to the hostel.
The next day was a bit of a write off, nursing both a hangover and a gammy toe, and despite nagging from both Duncan and my dorm mate Rob, I couldn’t face going out. So my last day dawned. A bit more wandering round, taking the photos I’d promised myself (and Andy), and then into the Welsh bar for goodbyes. It was another quiet night in there, with just Tom the barman at first, who would then be joined by lovely Jo,
me, Rob, Duncan and Jason (another regular). It was a perfect way to end off a great week with new friends who feel like old friends already. And – best of all – they even let me sign the right flag this time!
So, sad to be leaving Wellington and all those lovely people, but I was so excited about my next destination that I didn’t have time to dwell. Since I’d booked this trip I was determined to go to the Cook Islands and, after a brief stop in Auckland (I’ll spend more time there on my return), that’s where I was heading. I was FINALLY going to Paradise.
Tags: New Zealand, Travel
Suzanne
Now you know how I spent longer in Wellington than the whole of Brazil. That sounds awful doesn’t it? Great times though. I’m so glad they all looked after you and gave you a proper Welsh welcome (minus setting fire to you) .
Check me being all anonymous now
Hi Suze: How could you not get a lovely
welcome – (you’re such a lovely girl!!)
still missing you lots, but lovely to hear how much you’re enjoying your adventure.
Take good care – All my love xxxxxx
Auntie Rosemary x
Hi Suze, have just thoroughly enjoyed catching up with your blogs from Australia and
New Zealand.The views are really something else aren’t they.What i admire about you is thateven if you have a disappointment you just pick yourself up, dust yourself off and start
all over again, and then continue enjoying yourself again.You don’t give up, and that’s great — look forward to your next postings, so look after yourself, and keep enjoying
love from Angela xxx
Hey Suze,
Very jealous of you visiting Lord of The Rings scenery. It would have indulged by Gandalf fantasies no end (being Gandalf – not being with Gandalf if you know my meaning).
Loved the glacier blog and pics – I bet you were a joy to walk with that day. Christchurch looks beautiful, as do you in your bobble hat! More bobble hatted-pics please.
God Bless.
E.Apple. xx
Ps. Clare – your recollection of my sausage horror is correct. Though now those pork-lovelies are back on the menu with bangers and champ being a firm favourite. See how my tatse-buds have even overcome adversity. Picky, I ask you?
Hi Suzanne, good to catch up on your blog again. However, I felt a tad sorry for you this time, I think it was my mothering instincts coming out. Wish you were traveling with Andy then I would know that regardless of what happened or didn’t you would be laughing over nothing or everything…..
Love, Lin