Tuesday morning I left prison sweet prison and my dear inmates and drove Sweet Susi five hours south to the bottom of the north island. It was my first major drive in the country, and for the first four and a half hours I was absolutely elated with freedom. My last half hour was nerve wracking because driving in new cities on the wrong side of the road is not my forte.
But, obviously I survived, and made it up in the hills to Wellington’s Brooklyn neighborhood. I’m being hosted by Diana in her gorgeous house with an amazing view in exchange for just two hours of work per day. Mostly gardening and some housework if it’s too windy or rainy to be outside. Wellington is ridiculously windy and aptly called “Windy Wellie.” As my friends and I made our way to Te Papa museum today, we had an inspired harmony of R. Kelly’s “I Believe I Can Fly.” My new downwind theme song for this place. Upwind, it doesn’t matter what you sing, you won’t be able to hear it.
Wellington so far is the city I didn’t think existed in NZ. The Portland of New Zealand, according to me. Gorgeous, full of big green parks, close by hikes, excellent public transportation, and plenty of cultural activities. In the streets, a mix of casual locals and tourists, and tons of young folk so unstylish they’re stylish. The restaurants and bars are decorated with quirky creativity and the shops full of dangerously cute local clothes and crafts. Almost everywhere in the city has a view of the harbor.