Newtown

Newtown reminds me of the multi-ethnic villages that make up much of Greater London. Apart, of course, from the architecture which is reminiscent of the American West. And Newtown is a phenomenon. There is stiff competition amongst retailers who sell anything an Asian or Pacific Island ex-pat could yearn for – from Indian slippers to Samoan shirts. There are places to eat or grab coffee and a really good kebab place – Café Laz. There are shops selling discount bottom of the range goods and a few up-market clothes and gift shops. There is a great Halal butcher, two fishmongers and two food warehouses. There are also jewellers, charity shops, discount stores and places where you can buy second hand furniture, plus two bookshops (one second hand, one medical). Some of the shops have an old fashioned feel to them – such as Lorraine's ladies wear, a mecca for thermals, cotton nighties and the like. There is also a wide range of services - library, post office, banks, accountants, internet cafes, barbers and many etceteras. Oh and the most meticulously tidy supermarket shelves I have ever seen can be found in the local branch of New World supermarket. Yes, all the above survives alongside a supermarket!

And this bustling township – not small by NZ standards – is just a couple of kilometres from the main city centre.

I think there are three things that account for it’s success - as providing local shopping for the surrounding community cannot possibly account for the amount of money that changes hands here.
One factor is the hospital, which sits where it has been for 130 years, five minutes walk down the road. Lots of hospital staff must be spending part of their pay packet here every week. And of course a never ending stream of patients and relatives (many from out of town) buying not only “Hospital Cards and Flowers” but all kinds of casual purchases. There are three pharmacies which are kept busy filling the prescriptions of discharged patients. But the hospital alone cannot account for the existence of this vibrant little township, which even in the present time has very little vacant retail space.
There is also the ethnic food dimension which may be significant. If you want Halal meat, bulk spices or taro (a starchy root vegetable which is a staple for many Pacific islanders) you would come across the city to shop here.
For the rest of the picture, I think we must look to the strength of the small business sector in NZ - a land packed with small businesses of all kinds. Over a quarter of New Zealanders work in firms with less than five “employees”. And we must conclude that New Zealanders patronise these small businesses in a big way. It is also a land which lacks the very powerful chains that characterise Europe and America. It is a long way from nearly every where, and it is just not worth the effort for a multinational to come here and set out their stall. Thus the field is left clear for local initiative.

Where to walk the dog in a Southerly?

At this time of year the wind chill factor finds its way through the walls. Wake up and pluck up courage to emerge from the covers. Dive into fleece trousers, woolly socks and zip a fleece over the night clothes and make the first tea of the day. The dog is circling as soon as he smells toast – a food pest and a walk pest – either would do. But outside there is an icy southerly buffeting the bushes and the met office recommends four layers of clothing. Which means it must be cold. (It’s a subjective 2 deg in the wind they reckon). So where to walk the dog without freezing?
My recommendation is to head for the wind turbine – which might seems a strange choice given it’s exposed position. The trick is to park at the bottom of the wind turbine track and take the sheltered path to the right, rather than the wind turbine vehicle track. Climb to the Karori fence and then – this is important – turn right downhill, not up towards the turbine.
As you climb the initial section of the walk you might want to keep your dog on the lead if he has tendencies to chase rabbits down near-vertical slopes.
As you walk downhill along the biosecurity fence (designed to keep out pests, right down to baby mice) you have splendid views across the inner harbour and city centre. There are also tree ferns as tall and lush as anywhere in Wellington. And most importantly you are really well sheltered from that Southerly and can feel the warmth of any sunshine. The dog notices the occasional stirring on the other side of the fence – could it be a kiwi? The only thing to watch out for is that there is a mountain bike track running to your right. So if you don’t want your dog mown down by a kamikaze downhill biker, keep him with you on the walking track. But on this chilly weekday morning we don’t see a soul. Ah the fair weather dog walkers of Wellington don’t know what they are missing.

Security breach

At 10.30 this morning there is an almighty outbreak of savage barking. One of those “I’ll rip your throat out if I can but get at you!” barks. Peering over the dog’s animated shoulders, through the window I can see the offending intruder. A decrepit looking hedgehog. (My rule of thumb with hedgehogs that are blundering around in broad daylight on a freezing cold day with their eyes looking gluey is that they are heading very shortly for that compost heap in the sky and that rescue missions are inappropriate. And what are they doing here anyway…?)
I decide that hedgehog and dog are not an ideal combination. (That E.H. Shephard drawing of Tigger after he had tasted thistles and hastily decided that Tiggers didn’t like them comes to mind. Dog has the stripey coat needed to play Tigger in the panto.)
Dog by now desperate to make a kill. (I jest not – he killed a rat the other day.) It’s an open plan house and he is charging around baying hysterically and looking for an escape route. He then appears before me, as in the photo, with what looks like the kind of collar that is used when dogs have ear or head wounds. I do double take and realise that he has not transcended space/time and been to the vet in the last 5 seconds – he has rammed his head through the ancient cat flap on the back door and dismantled it with his neck muscles. An interesting look don’t we think?

Anzac and Ataturk

This is the touching inscription at the foot of the Ataturk Memorial. (click on the pic to make it bigger) It overlooks a rocky headland, where waves crash onto jagged rocks from opposing directions.
One of moving things about the memorial is its lack of religious symbolism or political bias. There is no attempt to give meaning to the tragedy via a traditional value system. Although of course there is a subtext here which expresses the values of secularism – the words being from the famous founder of a secular state. How unlike the memorials all over Normandy where only the allied dead of WW2 are remembered, without even a passing nod to the bravery or losses of the German troops.
A few days after NZ celebrated Anzac Day, we shed some private tears here, for the waste of all those lives. Anzac day is a public holiday and is fervently celebrated with dawn parades and services. Dawn, because that is when, on the 25th April, 1915, the troops were sent into at what is now known as Anzac Cove in Turkey, in the Gallipoli fiasco. In NZ, every village has a war memorial where groups of locals gather to commemorate the dead of both wars, but of that event in particular.
The national identity is strangely entwined with this anniversary. They needed to make sense of something utterly senseless and wasteful. All over the country, sons of farming families, much loved and no doubt much needed on the farms, were recruited and over 2500 never returned. There were also nearly 5,000 NZ wounded. So the waste and suffering was recast as heroism. And on the bedrock of that heroism was founded a sense of national pride. And maybe a sense of toughness, endurance, and injustice at the hands of the British, thus giving a sense of separateness to a budding nation.
Some commentators suggest that Waitangi day, which commemorates the Treaty (1840) which ended an ongoing state of war with the Maori, and gave them citizenship of the British Empire, would be a more appropriate Number One National Day. This seems to be mainly a Maori celebration. But with the centennial of the outbreak of WW1 only 5 years away there is undoubtedly something admirable about the determination to keep remembering.

A load of bull

Living in Wellington, it is easy to forget that this is a predominantly agricultural country in which the dairy and meat industries are the prime earners of export dollars. Easy to forget that there are no EU subsidies for New Zealand. And that its status as a “first world” nation, indeed its existence as a nation, relies on sheep and on cows. But we get occasional reminders. Today the Dominion Post business section had a large feature on bulls. Several pages on artificial insemination and the selection of sires. Including, I kid you not, an advertisement which appeared to show (it was photo-shopped – unless it was a very big syringe indeed) a hypodermic needle penetrating a bulls scrotum. You don’t get that kind of thing in the local paper back home. (And for anyone suffering under the fond illusion that this is how those gold plated sperm are extracted – let me assure you – the actual process is far less clinical.)
I was reminded of a diverting newspaper account of a local agricultural festival in a rural area, north of here. There were sheepdog trials and the like. Man-and-his-dog races. And a race – for humans, not their dogs – which involved completing the course with a bulls testicle (uncooked) in your teeth.

Wellington Houses

The one-off approach to building houses in NZ is easy to see as a quirky and endearing. But winter is setting in and I can see the fly in the ointment
Most houses are fairly flimsy affairs with little or no insulation of any kind. Estate agents seem obsessed with something called “flow” – as in “indoor-outdoor flow”, a phrase frequently seen on their blurbs. I think this means that the kitchen and living areas are open plan and that you can wander straight out into your barbecue area. Oh, and as it is perpetual summer let’s have a nice high ceiling. This would be fine if it was perpetual summer. However when the temperature drops to 5 deg C and there is a Southerly gale creating an impressive wind chill, you may realise you are living in a building that has the thermal retention of a paper bag. And no central heating.
Of course the priority for building regulations in this area has been earthquake resistance and I have no doubt that in an earthquake, having a thin walled timber framed house collapse on you is infinitely to be preferred to a load of breeze blocks and bricks. And most recently built houses are insulated.
In the picture you can see a typical Wellington single storey villa, in colonial style with one of those characteristic corrugated roofs. Nice Cabbage Trees in the garden and lots of electricity wires outside because it is on a bus route.
You can also see a picture of this house. Sorry, this well appointed shed with integral conservatory and great view. I am wearing a lot of clothes, indoors.

Kiwis and Tuis

The iconic NZ bird and informal mascot of the nation is of course the Kiwi. Such that the locals are more than happy to be called Kiwis rather than the long winded “New Zealander”. And “kiwi” often works much better as an adjective of course. However outside zoos, most human Kiwis are unlikely to ever see a kiwi, due to their shy, nocturnal habits and threatened status. Incidentally there are several breeds of kiwi – varying in size between a hen and a turkey! When the Maoris landed and found the place full of not only kiwis but the even larger flightless moas, it must have been like Christmas dinner every day for a couple of centuries. If the moas are anything like most local birds they would have had no fear of danger and would have carried on browsing until surprised by a spear.
But the nomination for second place in the most popular bird stakes must be the Tui.
Tuis are like starlings in drag. They are just slightly larger than a starling, with a similar profile, and with dark, shiny iridescent feathers. Around their necks is a tasteful wispy white collar and under their chins, what looks like a rather fluffy white bow tie.
They feed mainly on nectar and fruit, depending on the season and are a common sight in the suburbs and parks of lovely green Wellington. The Tui has a long proboscis like tongue which enables it to probe down and access the rich feed of nectar that these flowers provide. There is a well known breed of NZ beer named after them, which tends to increase their "brand recognition".
But it is in the vocal department that the tui excels. It’s not so much a song, as a distinctive riff, comprising an extensive range of squeaks, trills, creaks, caws, quacks, hoots, “ow”s and any other sound they can imitate and hence add to their repertoire.
And if there happens to be an alpha tui sitting on the tree outside your door, as there was the other day, you can see that it is not just a case of: take up a wide stance, open your beak and let rip. It is much more of a performance than that, with lots of mannered head movements. Like a very expressive tenor in the opera, intent on communicating the full range of emotions to the back row of the circle. I suspect the point of this is to display the bow tie to best effect, to potential mates and local rivals, as it bobbles about in a highly visible and slightly comical manner like a couple of animated pompoms.
In the picture is a tui we saw feeding on a wild rata flower in South Island. Sadly these beautiful flowers result from buds which are a most delectable food to the accursed possum. This was in one of only two areas where we saw them in bloom.

Dolphins in Lyall Bay

Lyall Bay is a popular socialising spot for the dog, and for humans there are the added attractions of watching the planes land/take off and of course the Maranui café.
This morning at nine there appeared at first to be a large swimming race, heading for the shore, escorted by a couple of kayakers – and with not much distance between the swimmers. The double take revealed the swimmers to be a huge pod of dolphins, spread out in a line. There must have been several dozen of them. (see white line in not very good photo)
Over the next hour or so we were treated to a spectacular display of coordinated energy. The pod, always spread out in a line, were, we assumed, pursuing a large shoal of fish back and fore across the bay. They would sweep towards the shore churning up white water, giving a fair imitation of a herd of galloping sea horses. Then, to change my metaphor, they would all do simultaneous handbrake turns. The pod would then set off in a different direction, with the leaders leaping out of the water, trying to get ahead of the shoal. Then a turn again as they stormed back inshore. Some lucky air travellers must have had a good view if they looked out of their plane window while coming into land.
And the display continued as we sat in the Maranui, gazing out to see and munching through their world class “muesli”. (For the record: dried fruit and nuts with a few toasted oats, accompanied by yoghurt, honey, a generous helping of stewed fruits of the forest, and slices of pineapple, banana and poached pear. About a 15 on a scale of 1 – 10.)

West face of the golf course

This is another nice walk from Kingston shops. If you can get someone to drop you at the bottom of the hill it is even nicer. The walk proper starts opposite the playing fields at the bottom of Farnham St. Pick up the City to Sea signs and head turn back to the right across the small park. The path takes you down some steps past some lovely tree ferns. You emerge onto a quiet side road. In front of you is the council tree and shrub nursery. Your route turns right and then left along the boundary of the nursery. This morning there was a kingfisher perched on a wire, along with a few starlings.
You emerge onto the edge of the Berhampore Golf Club and your path lies along its margin. It then turns away from the golf course, towards Brooklyn ridge, which is still high above you. The path here is a wide logging path with plenty of evidence of fairly recent tree felling. The city founders replaced the original forest with fast growing pines, which are now being gradually felled to allow native trees to return. Stay with the main path ahead and do not get seduced by the side paths. Although they look promising they are just logging dead ends. As you climb, the path turns right towards the ridge and becomes extremely steep. The surface is crumbling rock, as the top soil on these ridges is not much more than a smear. It is amazing that trees and large shrubs can grow so successfully. Look for the enclosure with half a dozen goats on the slope to your right. They are being used to clear honeysuckle and clematis which choke the shrubs. This morning there was a small, vocal flock of Rosellas (Australian parakeets) perching on an area of dead scrub. Boots and a stick are helpful to get you up this almost vertical incline. The track then enters the scrub and there is a final pull up to Quebec Street. There are fine views from the ridge, with the harbour in one direction and the Cook Strait in the other.

Gulls and herons

There are two types of gulls found in the Wellington region. The small Red-billed kind – compact, pristine and glamorous. You will see them anywhere near the sea in small groups. If there is a chance of scraps from humans there will be a local pecking order firmly established..
The other kind is the much larger – but fortunately more reticent - Black Backed Gull. Although only the adults are black backed and the juveniles are mud coloured. But juvenile or not they are good sized birds, very similar in appearance and call to the herring gulls found in UK. I was looking at a discarded wing feather the other day and it was a fair bit longer than my shoe.
From our vantage point on the Brooklyn ridge, the gulls daily routine can be observed. In the morning they head south, down the valley, heading for the landfill. Hundreds of them can be seen wheeling above it like snow flakes. And in the evening a ragged and well-fed procession flaps back towards the city centre. Where, I guess, they spend their nights roosting on man-made cliff tops. Worth considering for anyone thinking of buying an apartment in the centre.
But they don’t spend all their day at the dump. If you go to Owhiro Bay in the middle of the day you will see where they all hang out when they have gorged on the food that human Wellingtonians throw away. There is a stream here which normally forms a lagoon at the top of the beach. A perfect spot to take on fresh water, rinse the smell of rubbish off your plumage and then retire to sit on a rock, digesting and socialising.
In the photo you can also see a much rarer bird – a reef heron. (Unless is it is a melanistic form of the common White Faced Heron?) I have seen one (the same one probably) here before. They have a peculiar way of feeding which we observed down in Golden Bay. It will crouch down in shallow water, imitating a Kiwi or more probably a lump of driftwood, until it sees some prey – and then a long neck suddenly flashes out from the huddled, un-heron blob, like the strike of a venomous snake.

Really clear skies

They really are clear skies. Late on Good Friday afternoon, doing a spot of yoga on the decking and admiring the blue above - when I spied a satellite, moving east to west, almost directly overhead. First time I had ever spotted one in the daylight. Could have been the space station possibly, which is apparently getting bigger and bigger. But even so, impressive visibility.

Makara

After a chilly Maunday Thursday with a decided threat of winter, Good Friday was a gem of a day. Clear skies, warm sunshine and silky breezes. And it is a proper Bank Holiday here with all but the corner shops closed.
By driving over the hills behind Wellington, through scrubby hills and paddocks, you arrive at the coast at Makara Beach. It is a relatively sheltered pebbly beach and has a small wetland and lagoon behind.
I chose to take the low road round the headland, a stony scramble between high tide and cliffs, rather than the cliff edge path.
As promised on the sign in the car park the pipits were also out and about. You can tell they are NZ natives as they are so fearless. And so were lots of (human) kiwis enjoying the shore and the sunshine. Lots of activities in evidence – kayaking, boating, rock fishing and paua (abalone) hunting.
In one area the sea had arranged smooth pebbles in a regular array like cobblestones. In another it had bulldozed up boulders and huge tree trunks maybe a two or three metres above the next highest pebble banked waterline – giving an idea of the raw power that the Tasman can muster when driven by a severe southerly gale.
It is on the cliffs here that Meridian are building a big wind farm (at last!) –and half a dozen of the turbines could be seen idling on the skyline.
Very busy in the bay by mid afternoon. I imagine the café probably ran out of hot cross buns and cake. And masses of sea anemones and other sea shore creatures visible at low tide. One little girl, peering from the rocks, very excited: “Holy Moly – it’s a real octopus!”. And I met a Brittany Spaniel (like a Welsh Springer with long legs) called Harry. Quite a charmer.

Wellington cafes

Cafés, cafés, cafés – there are cafés on every corner in Wellington, and quite a few half way down the street as well. How can so few citizens drink so much coffee? How can the cafés all generate enough business to stay in business? I am afraid I don’t have the answer to these and other questions of universal significance.
Wellingtonians do like their coffees – and their coffee breaks. This morning at about 11.30 we stopped for a cup in The Bach near Island Bay. The Unique Selling Point here is that they have sightings of killer whales 100 metres in front of their property (twice this year already). You also have the sounds and smell of the sea and views of the craggy coast and of South Island in the distance. And in the middle of the morning, on a weekday, it was busy. With lots of men of working age. Some of them possibly having a work related conversation – but others maybe indulging in the serious business of the morning coffee break. In the heart of the business district it would be the same picture. And of course they all do baked goods and sometimes meals as well. And they normally have magazines and the daily paper available.
I'm no judge of coffee. Nice and milky is my style. So have have to use other criteria when making recommendations.
Difficult to pick just one in the City – but maybe Pandoro’s near Te Papa on account of the French bakery and patisserie (stock up on their 5 grain sourdough while you are there). There is something very comforting about being able to peer into the actual bakery, beyond the counter. In Newtown the Recovery Rooms opposite the hospital is good – and has an adventurous menu. There is a little French one further up the road as well, with nice patisserie and bread. Both good for buying treats for hospital patients. (Even I can say that the coffee in the new Wishbone cafe in the hospital is best avoided. The Fuel coffee bar is better.)
And out of town – apart from the Bach with its tantalising possibility of Orca sightings – the Maranui in Lyall Bay wins the overall prize on the grounds of its fantastic breakfasts. The view is pretty good as well (the bay and the airport) and so is the building. Try the veggie breakfast - it lasts all day. A lifetime high I’d say. Or for something lighter, their two substantial rounds of grainy toast with avocados and tomatoes (a kiwi classic this).
And if you are a visitor to NZ you have to learn what to ask for. A "latte" will usually have quite a lot of foam. A “flat white” less. If you want skimmed milk you have to ask for “trim”. So I take a deep breath – I have to take a run at it - “A large, half-strength trim flat white please”.

Pick Your Own

A “Pick Your Own” day yesterday, bathed in warm autumn sunshine. Penray PYO just south of Otaki was the premier destination. They specialise in chillies along with other produce. Yelps and guffaws are heard from the picking lines as reckless harvesters try the strength of the various varieties. A great grandmother sits on the ground in her sari, guarding buckets of sparkling scarlet chillies, while her relatives do her bidding. We staggered back to the pay station, with about 4 kilos of Italian tomatoes as well as a bags of chillies, capsicums, apples, pears and a big bunch of parsley. The whole lot came to about £8.
Then we drove over the hill to the organic blueberry farm in the Upper Hutt. Worth a stop for the aerial view of the Kapiti coast and island in one direction and South Island in the other. A lot more of S. Island is visible from up there, than at sea level. I suspect you can see all the way to Cape Farewell.
The blueberry farm is on the tranquil banks of the Hutt river (although I'm sure the Hutt not always tranquil judging by the boulders in the river bed). They make world-class blueberry muffins in their café – definitely worth a detour if you in the Hutt at weekends. Some of the blueberry bushes had turned an intense crimson – one of the few signs of autumn. Unfortunately I had my camera set incorrectly and came home with a series of Monet like smudges.
The chillies are glistening red in bowls. The tomatoes are currently being rendered down into a vat of sauce. And the capsicums are crisp and crunchy which you chop them up. And the blueberries have a fresh taste and firm texture that you don’t find in supermarkets.

Wellington housing

If you were kidnapped from a British city, and dropped off on a street corner in Wellington, you would be immediately struck by the fact that the houses look different. Different to UK houses. And different from each other. With very few exceptions the houses in NZ are detached. The majority are single storey. And it is very much the norm for each house in the road to be unique. In hilly Wellington some of the houses would actually be either up, or down, a few dozen steps with mail boxes at street level.
And as you sat in the gutter, removing your blindfold, the building materials and methods of construction would also catch your eye. Many external walls are boarded. And many roofs are of “corrugated iron”. You know you are getting used to the place when you start to see a corrugated roof as an attractive vernacular feature. The folk round the corner re-roofed their house last week. First they nailed wooden battens to the shiny silver corrugated roof. Then they attached tiles - well actually they are plastic imitation tiles. All done in a couple of days. And being single storey, no need to put up scaffolding.
The two houses in the photo illustrate the extremities of the “every house unique” rule. These two are on the coast, near Island Bay. One seems to be a copy of an Irish “tower house” such as you find next to farm houses, in the South East. Next to it is a house which is glued to the cliff face. Access to the house is via a lift. There is no road access and no track. There is not even the trace of a track. Construction as an extreme sport.

Gangs of NZ

One of the interesting features of NZ life is that there are Gangs - rather well established gangs that have branches (chapters I believe is the technical term) all over the country. There is occasional inter gang violence and ongoing criminality by gang members. Sometimes they are involved in things like pawa (abalone) poaching rings. The two most famous gangs are “Black Power” and “The Mongrel Mob”. Picture well built guys with serious amounts of tattooing. But the Mafia they aint. (Mind you, pawa poaching is not to be taken lightly!)
There is a story on the front page today’s “Dominion Post” (the Wellington daily paper) about a Police Matron who is retiring after a long career, taking care of remand prisoners with health needs. So she was well known to all the regulars in Wellington courts. She was once caught in the crossfire, when Black Power gang members fired (with a shotgun) on a police van in which she was escorting a member of the Mongrel Mob. She sustained a bruised leg – and then received an Interflora delivery of flowers from Black Power, by means of an apology.

View from the hill

This is a good view of the harbour and the city from the path leading to the Turbine. You are looking north towards the Hutt Valley.
From up here you can see just how much of the city is green. This is partly due to the Geography. Wellington is built in the valleys, on the slopes and on the ridges which radiate out from the harbour. But many of the slopes are just too darn steep for easy construction.
But the greenery is also Thanks to the Founders. In the 19th Century the “City Fathers” and no doubt their respective wives (first women on the planet to get the vote, sister! So they must have done their fair share of lobbying on the sidelines) had the foresight to “zone” large areas of “Town Belt” which have been protected from “development” and reserved as open spaces for the recreation of the citizens. Many of these areas would undoubtedly be prime building land. Most wonderful of these is the Botanic Gardens – which is a world class gem, five minutes walk from the parliament building.
Also Otari-Wilton Bush, which is Wellington’s second botanical garden. To say that this is an area of native bush, just on the city’s edge, sounds unremarkable. However vast areas of forest (for that is what “bush” means in this context) around the outskirts were clear cut to provide the timber to build the city. These hillsides are now slowly regenerating. But a native hardwood tree such as the Rata takes a thousand years, or two, to reach it’s full glory. So areas such as this, so near to the city, are treasures indeed.

Windy Welly

The one thing Wellington is know for, throughout New Zealand is its Wind. I presume this is why the airport is known as “Wild at Heart”. A curious branding decision but not incongruous when you land into a Northerly with the Lyall Bay surfers bobbing about right next to the runway.
I took this photo of the harbour yesterday afternoon with a Northerly blowing. Not many Wellingtonians were choosing the seafront as a route home from work. Bear in mind it is an extremely “sheltered” harbour – the choppy waves in the picture were whipped up solely by the efforts of the Northerly across the few miles between the bottom of the Hutt Valley and the City Centre.
It is a warm wind and you need to learn to love it to come to terms with Wellington. Think of it like a length of silk whipping across your skin. Think of it as a kind of massage provided by the atmosphere. Don’t frown. Don’t tense up your shoulders. Embrace it and work with it like a sailor. Be glad it is not a Southerly.

Shopping in Petone

The centre of Wellington is not really a shopping destination. There are lots of shops, it’s true. But somehow you would be very unlikely to say to a friend, “Let’s go to the city centre for a bit of retail therapy.” High shopping points are:

Lots of bookshops, both new and second hand (excellent Arty Bees)
Moore Wilson’s fresh food/deli
Small designer clothes shops (run I assume by local Fashion graduates)
Outdoor clothing shops

But the centre of the city is really about servicing the office workers and students in the day with an astonishing number of cafes. And entertaining the populace at night with theatres, cinemas, restaurants, bars and clubs.
For the first time today I visited Jackson St, which is the shopping street of Petone, fifteen minutes drive around the harbour. A much more pleasant destination for a little light gift shopping and nosy browsing. It is a typical NZ main street, built about a century ago, lined with small shops, including gift shops, interior design supplies, a nice toy shop, a great army surplus store (anyone for a new hat?) and, as they say, Much More. And of course there are a few cafes. How much coffee can a nation consume? Is there no limit?
I bought a jig saw for a one year old – it really is a better toy shop than Wellington can muster – and an enamel pie dish from a nice old-fashioned ironmonger.
Oh and an hour’s free on-street parking is an added bonus.

Nothing but blue skies

During this fine weather I am making a point of admiring the sky. It is a deep, rich, forget-me-not blue. An unfamiliar colour, I reflect. Looking west towards the Cook Strait, where the Air New Zealand jets are routed, I can see a few wisps of high cloud. Man made cloud.
Overhead and in all other directions, an intense blue.
In Europe there is always a whitish haze these days. Jets dashing hither and thither filling the stratosphere with water vapour. So much that "sky blue" is a pale and washed out hue.
Despite what seems like a lot of internal flights, the skies here are almost empty. You never look up and see a mile high plane, winging it's way, maybe from Prague to Boston, as you would in the UK. NZ is not en route from anywhere to anywhere other than the Antartic - not, mercifully, known for its international airports.
And that, I conclude, is the reason for the blueness of the heavens.

Wind, water and the Cook Strait

New Zealand undoubtedly produces more Geography than can be consumed locally. Anyone contemplating a field trip on which they will see everything from volcanoes to glaciers and fiords, with plenty of tectonic entertainment in between, would do well to wend their way to these isolated isles. And Wellington has its fair share. Balanced precariously on a the intersection of two major tectonic plates, it is proud possessor of a magnificent, sheltered, deep water harbour, shaped like a curly number nine. And sister! does it need that shelter – ay?

The harbour mouth opens into the Cook Strait – called after Captain James who sailed here not just once, but three times. Cook, evidently, was a cautious captain (go figure…) – Doubtful Sound was so dubbed because he was, quite rightly, doubtful that he would ever get a wind behind the sails to blow him out of the fiord. And he took the same low risk approach when it came to Wellington harbour. He would not have had to linger long to get taste of what wind and water can come up with in this part of the world.

But he gave his name (or maybe someone else gave his name) to the turbulent strait between the two main islands - where the tidal flow from the Pacific is battling with the opposing flow of the mighty Tasman. In the picture above you can see a line offshore where the two bodies of water are pushing in opposite directions and trying to elbow the other one out of the way. If you fly over the Strait this is something to look out for. (click on the pic to see it bigger)

And the weather, too, seems to make Wellington as a battle field. When there is a southerly breeze, you can feel that Antarctic chill – a taste of winter it seemed in the middle of last week. Then the warmer northerlies gain control and Wellingtonians put the fleeces away, pop their shorts back on - and in some cases walk past the upmarket shops on Lambton Quay with bare feet. But a lull like we are having does not last long. We appreciate the good days because we know that next week, or the week after, there will be a howling gale coming from either north or south. Possibly, but not necessarily, bearing rain. We look out at a deep valley here and one day, a few weeks ago, there seemed to be horizontal sheets of rain blasting from the north all morning and then from the south all afternoon. And the most unfamiliar weather of all, is when we get a gale – and bright sub tropical sunshine.

But the last couple of days the sun is shining, the wind turbine is revolving lazily, and everyone is appreciative.

The city centre meets the sea

One of the reasons Wellington is a gem of a capital city is its city centre sea front.
Many formerly proud maritime cities have “developed” their waterfronts in the years since container ports rendered their local docks redundant. “Developed” in this context has meant replacing rusting cranes with apartment blocks, hotels and marinas for yuppies and bankers and “retail outlets” with fast food restaurants for the rest of us. These buildings tend to be crammed as near to the water as possible, leaving little or no space for actually enjoying the sea front . We can all think of a list of examples. A classic use of “brown field sites” you might argue. And it has no doubt been highly profitable for investors and developers.
But Wellington has done it differently. As you walk around the harbour, notice how much car- free public space there is. Yes, there are a few restaurants and a marina. And of course there are cafes (you’re in Wellington - you are never very far from a cafe!) but there are also playgrounds, seating areas, a public swimming pool, a bridge that is also a work of art, leading into the city square and gallery, wind sculptures, poems about the wind (what else?) and plenty of space for walkers, joggers, buggy pushers and skate boarders to coexist. And just open space. Enough to hold large outdoor events. You can hire a kayak, a helicopter, a pedalo or one of those four seater cycles. You can jump in the water and go swimming, if you dare, and nobody will tell you off. Or you can just linger with your lunchtime sandwich and enjoy the view - with possible sightings of sting rays, seals or gannets. And of course there is also the huge Te Papa (Our Place) National Museum – with a sheltering arm of native trees and shrubs wrapped around it – taking pride of place.
I particularly like this park (see pic). I know not everyone does – but I am a fan. It is a series of geometrically shaped areas in which native plants such as flaxes, sedges and tussock grasses are planted in blocks. At the harbour end it is an artificial wetland – complete with a sloping beach – a favourite resting place for mallard and gulls – which allows the high tide to flow into the park, and a small way into the city, providing a welcome break between the high wharf edges on both sides.
Well done Wellington is what I say, your sea front should be the envy of the world.

Art Attack

Went to see the Monet exhibition in Te Papa. http://collections.tepapa.govt.nz/exhibitions/monet/TheExhibition.aspx

You can see all the works on this website – what a long way the Internet has come dear reader.
And it is really great that NZ is able to see these works without trekking to Boston.
Much appreciated by the locals methinks.

However we were both slightly underwhelmed though and wondered why.
Was it the dim lighting maybe? Monet painted outdoors of course and the works would have been hung in 19th century rooms with dim but natural light. The wonderful quality of the painting and presumably the paint itself, means that many of the paintings positively glowed in the dim and very artificial light of the gallery. Almost psychedelic some of them – e.g. the haystack at sunset. But with all that wonderful harbour-reflected sunshine outside, shown off to good effect by the windows of the main museum, the gallery had more the atmosphere of a mausoleum with pilgrims trudging past the holy relics. (yes I know, I know, any photons at all are probably bad for the paintings… but hey, in the Courtauld collection in London for instance they have a very similar Antibes Monet I seem to recall, in a naturally lit, high ceilinged room.)
Or was it the fact that there was too much of a good thing? Would we have preferred just to see the Monets without the influences and so on?. Not that the influences are not very fine. Lovely little Corot for instance. But there was a slightly didactic air maybe. Or even pedagogic. Felt like an Art Attack – thou shalt understand the context or else Class 5!
I once saw a single DaVinci Madonna, in Arezzo I think, in Tuscany. A one-painting exhibition, and we had her all to ourselves. Perhaps a better way to enjoy paintings than seeing them en masse.
What I enjoyed most were the coastal scenes and the two snowy villages – both of which made me shiver. And we both loved the late work Morning on the Seine – still, misty, and willow banked. Reminded us both of the River Nore, just north of Bennettsbridge, Kilkenny (a view now sadly lost to us as it has recently been spanned by the new motorway – the final extravagant roar of the Celtic Tiger).
So my perfect Monet exhibition would be that single painting, in a room lit indirectly by Irish spring sunshine filtering through leaves, with the sounds of water birds in the background. Voila.

Public toilets

Also near Island Bay I spotted an abandoned gents toilet, disappearing under a sand dune. Public toilets in NZ are surely the best in the world (any other contenders out there?). They are normally clean, free and unvandalised. Interesting to see that they had bitten the bullet and abandoned this one. There is probably a large, new, luxurious one with showers and changing facilities, just around the corner.

I have a suspicion that the public toilet thing has its roots in the social welfare aims of the Plunket Society. The PS was started by Truby King in 1907 and it still exists today as a large charity aimed at improving child health.
In small towns you find these loos which were built originally as the Women’s Rest and funded by the PS. So I’m guessing that the women needed to “rest” not just to have a pee (modestly) but to breastfeed. And the Plunket nurse would have an office there. You can still see a classic example of this in the tiny town of Hunterville. Dear little building. Beautiful newly refurbished loos inside. And the Plunket nurse’s office where she still runs a baby clinic (similar to a Health Visitor’s clinic) several times a week. (This is, incidentally) the best pit stop spot between Wellington and Taupo – and you can buy a smoothie across the road.) So my current theory is that the lavish (oh a pun!) provision of loos had it’s roots in this interesting movement.

Wellington Coast pics

Here are a few pics. Click to see bigger images. I have not really cracked this putting more than one pic in a post yet...

Pau shell (abalone to the rest of the world). They are often white on this coast rather than the more usual kingfisher tones. Much prized eating in NZ and the orient. Every so often there is a Paua (pronounced powa) poaching scandal. If you put Pawa poaching into Google you will see what a big deal it can be with major busts involving the Mongrel Mob - NZ's most famous criminal gang.

Kelpy sea at low tide. It’s a giant member of the algae family. I love to see the heavy coffee coloured tangles glistening in the sun in a gentle swell.
A bride and groom spotted at the Island Bay jetty. They looked rather like they were already having regrets and were about to leap off.

Early morning fruit and veg

One of the shopping high points in Wellington is to go to a fruit and veg market at the weekend, preferably early in the morning. (especially a sunny morning, as in the pic) The markets are open all morning but there is a sense of virtue in getting there early. On Saturday there is a huge one in Lower Hutt. Or on Sunday there are two in Wellington City Centre (lower Hutt split over 2 sites). We prefer the one on the seafront, next to Te Papa, the national museum (which you can see in the background of the pic). The markets are run by a group of families from the Levin area, all of Chinese origin. And the market certainly has a Chinese flavour, with Chinese vegetables and herbs on many stalls. But for most people the markets are a great source of cheap fruit and veg, most of it NZ seasonal produce. And with their mild climate they certainly produce fruit and veg. Prices are great compared to the supermarket and the quality better than UK markets – although with some produce you need to select carefully. And if you are on the look out for a bargain you can find one. Particularly in the Hutt – some stalls seem to run a “loss leader” e.g. a kilo of plums for a dollar!

Early morning arts

I went to see the Jubilation Gospel Choir this morning. Part of the Wellington Jazz Festival. http://www.jubilation.co.nz/.
Slightly surreal going into the town hall into a dimly lit Jazz club atmosphere at 10.30 in the morning.
And slightly surreal to see an African-American Gospel choir without, I think, an African gene between them. And certainly if you closed your eyes you would know for sure that they were neither African-American nor West Indian.
Also they all had microphones. Which I didn’t really expect.
Having said all that they were a really great choir. About half of them performed at least one solo – and the soloists were strong. Despite the individually strong and distinctive voices they managed to blend their voices brilliantly when singing chorally. It is always impressive when a choir reaches such a high professional standard.

A walk from Kingston

This is a great walk on the edge of the city. Dogs think it a great walk as there are rabbits to hunt. Takes about an hour with an option on a side trip to Owhiro Bay. It starts 5 minutes from the end of the Number 7 bus route.

Start at the end of Quebec Street, Kingston and go straight up the hill onto the track. There is a Maori monument on the right which you can visit at the start or end of the walk. But to walk, take the left hand ridge path which gives you a great view of Island Bay and the Cook Strait. At the extreme right of the horizon you may see South Island mountains on a clear day. (see the 2 pics below) Below you is a flat area – one of Wellington’s newest parks. It used to be a landfill area and has been recently planted with flaxes etc. Looking over your shoulder you can see Newtown, the hospital, Mt Victoria, the harbour and so on. It’s a great view. You are 170 metres above sea level here.
Continue along the ridge, down the steps, until you reach the water tank. Up to this point you have been on the City to Sea walk – but now you are going to veer off it, taking a sharp right, and doubling back. The path is going to take you around the side of the valley, eventually coming down to the flat park at the opposite side.
The track starts to undulate through gorse and native shrubs. All of this area has been clear cut of native forest and is beginning to regenerate. When you reach the further, more sheltered side, the shrubs are replaced by smallish evergreen trees with contorted trunks and branches – tall enough to create thick, dark shade. It would have made a good spooky location for the Hobbits to travel through, looking over their shoulders for Ring Wraiths.
There is a population of very vocal Tuis here plus many other birds both native and introduced. Is that possibly a Saddleback call? Or is it a Tui imitating a Saddleback? They sound like they might be good mimics. We are only a few minutes flying time from Karori Sanctuary here, and of course while the fence keeps the pests out (I imagine that at night the cats, rats and possums line up outside the Karori fence with drool dripping from their fangs) the birds are allowed out to play – or indeed they can choose to leave home if they wish. So you never know. I think I might have seen a Fern Bird once on this walk – though a “not confirmed” sighting. http://www.sanctuary.org.nz/

A good range of native plants can been seen, including small ferns (rather than tree ferns) – until you reach an area of closely planted pines. A stark demonstration of the way pine needles mulch the ground and discourage anything else from growing. Who needs weedkiller when you have pine needles.
When you reach level ground you will see the local conservation nursery, and realise that many of the native plants you have passed have planted as a result of their voluntary work. They are doing a great job.
Your path back up the hill is directly opposite you, to the left of the Rest Home which you can see on the edge of the houses. So you can amble around on the flat park, with its newly laid out paths, keeping a look out for birds, or head straight across to start climbing.
A detour at this point is possible to Owhiro Bay, if you bear right and follow your nose downhill for about 15 minutes. There is a shop there. The bay is always full of gulls resting or having a much needed drink and bath in the stream - after picking over the current landfill area further up the valley. The stream on the beach is also a nice bathing spot for dogs.
But if the coast doesn’t tempt you, the climb back up to Brooklyn is a short cardio workout for those of us aspire to be averagely fit. It’s just over 100 metres climb. (Which doesn’t sound very much – but it’s similar to climbing up all the stairs in a fairly tall building I guess.) The first bit of the track is a little rough – but I saw someone coming down it with a baby buggy today. At the top of this section, turn left onto the vehicle track and you will soon be back at the water tank. And it just keeps on going up. Including the steps – over 100 of them - which you descended earlier.
If you can keep going and enjoying the view, without stopping, retching or taking on oxygen, I pronounce you officially “reasonably fit”. Those people who run up or carry their mountain bikes up count as “very fit” in my book.

Views from the ridge

Just another pic of Island Bay - showing the actual island this time with South Island peeping out behind.

Island Bay comment

After a trying day I set off in search of calm. And somewhere cooler than the house which has the thermal qualities of a greenhouse.
There can be few better spots to take your bag of kumara fries (that’s sweet potato to the uninitiated - huge improvement on the “potato” kind, as they are sweetish, slightly caramelised and full of beta carotene ) than Island Bay at sunset.
South Island in clear view again – see photo. And it was all rather photogenic. Hard to choose which shot to share with you.
Island Bay is part of the Wellington Coast Marine Reserve – a new reserve which was negotiated at huge length (years and years) with the local Iwi (Maori Tribes) who traditionally have rights to harvest sea food. We had an interesting perspective on this while visiting Mt Manganui (further north) where you can see enormous middens of clam shells cast aside by generations long gone.
To get the reservedness of it in perspective – our mate M. saw a whole pod of Orca in the bay, yes actually between the Island and the beach, last year. On a much smaller scale this evening the tide was low, the water was wine clear and I could see teeming sea life: tiny fish, anemones and small starfish (think Finding Nemo and you’ll get the idea). Curiously the kind of creatures I have not seen in coastal pools over here are the shrimps and prawns that were such a common feature of my childhood on the South Wales coast. Although there are Crayfish – and a very fine one we had on Saturday courtesy of Uncle Dave from Wanganui.

View of South Island - from Island Bay

caution at the opera

Wellington Opera House - beware the gallery my friend...

In a city blessed with venues the Opera House has a great big stage, ideal for dance events.
But the seating in the gallery my dear! It seems to have been originally designed as a series of steeply tiered wooden steps, upon which one sits. Perfect for the keen but poor opera fans of the past. However at some point they have added the seat parts from plastic stacking chairs. Which leaves those of us who are of average height or less, perched, with feet dangling several inches off the ground.
Stupid thing was, I had been there before - but obviously failed to learn.
Thankfully I was at the end of a row and was able to adopt a kind of yoga twist position for the Royal NZ Ballet's first piece. Which was pretty good I thought. At the interval I leapt up to stand for 15 minutes. Amazed that quite a lot of audience stayed seated. Kiwi backsides obviously made of sterner stuff than mine.
Transferred myself to the step next to me - which was a big improvement. But after that great first piece the Ballet got more and more classical in style (again - I should have know - "Tutus on Tour" and not an inspirational South African cleric in sight). Let's face it - a theatrical performance of any kind needs to be enthralling to overcome seating problems. And contemporary dance is more my thing.
So after 3 pieces I dived for the Exit. Deja Vue! This was the exit that K and I had dived for after an hour or so of comedy acts. These were those stairs. Leading down to a fire exit and and the most well-tagged back alley to be found within spitting distance of Courtney Place.
The usherette, bless her, pursued me to see if I was alright and to warn me that once through the fire doors there was not return. Full marks to her.
And full marks to the Boysenberry Sorbet from Cafe Eis - which was the high point of the evening.

The Head of Security

Here he is. My walking companion, escort and creator of extra housework. All bark and balls and absolutely no bite whatsoever, despite the impressive musculature. Suspect he was a failed experiment in the attempt to create a pig hunting dog, somewhere in the hills behind Whanganui. Apparently the first and only time he went pig hunting he fell down a ravine and had to be rescued. Pretty good at catching cicadas though - he eats the tail and spits out the more crunchy bits - much as I would deal with a prawn.

It's still summer

It is still summer here in Wellington, after a wet Saturday and a windy Sunday. The coast near Island Bay was pulling out all the stops this morning. Warm sun. Moderate breeze. A fine view of South Island - a rare thing indeed. You could, I think, see the entrance to one of the Sounds.
And the coast itself, with an impausibly blue sea, was dazzling anyone who was able to be there. Lovely nuclear family of Oystercatchers - mum, dad and 2 juveniles. The juveniles having a strangely hunched and elderly demeanour.
I have the house to myself for the first time - the troops are off doing their thing in Auckland. So just the Head of Security to feed and water and the tropical fish to tend to.