The first mistake was to accept that last-minute and late plea to cover a shift at the bistro I used to dishpig for. But the boss was desperate and prepared to offer $A20 per hour. $20p/h, free meal and a few drinks after work with the old crew? You bet. But, it seems that I forgot what standing on my feet for six and a half hours was like. That, combined with being up to my armpits in kitchen filth was something I must have blanked from my mind in the last six months. Note to self, get real job or chefs will continue to call you a 'cat' (if you get my drift).
This meant that although the flight was early evening, and the money is holding me in good stead, having to get up early and sort out last minute stuff saw me a little short on sleep by the time I got to the airport for my impending trip to New Zealand. In turn, by the time I was making my way through customs on Thursday night I was already jet-lagged as all hell, having caught Air 'Inconsolable Child' across the Tasman and arrived near nid-night. A few Scotch's and a yarn later, some sleep on a couch. I love travel, last night must have been the first consistent five hours I've gotten since Wednesday.
Oh, and if you work for Air 'Inconsolable'? Your food is crap and the wine tastes watered down. Next time I'm flying Emirates or Singapore Airlines.
Whinging done.
My first impression of being back in Wellington is wonder at how much the place has come along since my first trip here in what must have been 1985. All I remember from those days is 'grey' and 'brown', but on a trip through Courtney Place on Friday night the place is humming. People smiling and eating al fresco, bright lights, and that feeling of something happening.
Then there's good old Cuba Street, my haunt from the early 90s. Still a few run-down old buildings to keep the character of the place, but the upturn down the Manners Mall end is a little staggering. That only-loved-by-true-locals bucket fountain is almost completely obscured by all the stuff happening around it!
I took a couple of days over the weekend to drive up to the Hawkes Bay for a Twenty-First and hitched back this morning. Second note to self. Twenty-Firsts were a long, long time ago, and you're not the party animal you used to be. Still, Kitty was a surprisingly good housemate in Melbourne, and the party coincided nicely with a conference in Hamilton next week (Yup, the word is 'junket'). What's more, a couple of mates from Melbourne close to my own age were across (i.e. a social buffer), and her oldies put on a great spread. Best damn catering I've seen in years, I must have gorged and watered myself non-stop for the whole two days, with nothing but tales of Melbourne to pay for my room and board.
If there's one thing I've forgotten about in Melbourne it’s hills. In fact, you can put mountains in there too. The drive up through the Wairarapa was amazing. So, so much green after years of brown and tan. I think one thing all Kiwis take for granted is just how great the scenery is in this place. Being able to stop and look at the majesty of the Rimutakas and the Ruahines was, at the risk of sounding campy, delightful.
But walking up the Terrace to pay an outstanding bill at the Waitangi Tribunal? You can keep it. Pesky damn hills. I say level the buggers.
Anyhow, today I'm drinking good(ish) coffee at a place called Fidels near the corner of Cuba and Abel Smith Streets. There's a Real Groovy on the Corner I'm checking out when I finish lunch, which just arrived. It's a chicken curry laksa and its..... really good.
Even better, the bloke who owns Fidels also runs a place just round the corner (next to Havana Coffee) with decent kiwi beer and yet another good vibe. Seeing so many people with tribal tattoos was kinda cool, having forgotten was New Zealand was really like, but Absolutely Positively Wellington? Yup. A Friday night with good people, no wankers and great sounds. I think the real trick will be to not bankrupt myself on food and nights out over the next two weeks.
I'll keep this post short, as that bargain bin at Real Groovy is calling to me, but I will hint that I might be able to schmooze up some good info about the 'too-ings' and 'fro-ings' here in the Capital for you all over the next few days. We'll see.
And god forbid I should find any work while I'm here, after selling myself to RB as 'Melbourne Correspondent', 'Wellington Correspondent' doesn't quite carry the same cache. Although being referred to as 'the famous weblogger' by some old mates here in town did appeal to my vanity. Cheeky bastards.