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Published: April 30th 2010
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This morning John was up with the lark (or whatever the NZ equivalent is) and went out walking and taking photos.
I was a little more leisurely, and when I did climb out of bed I was pleased that the sun was beginning to poke its head out from the clouds. This brightened up the whole landscape - the sand on the beach is black as it’s volcanic, and when the skies are drab, it makes the whole place look very desolate. Add a little bit of sunshine, and the seas turn the most amazing turquoise which lightens the beach and makes it all look very exotic. There seemed to be almost a forest’s worth of driftwood along the beach, which did add to the air of desolation, and I looked at it jealously - remembering days of trawling along
Felixstowe beach in search of something interesting and coming back with a damp plank of wood. (amused Nicky and James as I recall!)
So after a few stops to take photos of views and eagles, we eventually turned onto the main road and were twisting through the mountain pass again listening to the news on the radio. Over the past few days, I’ve been rather shocked. We hadn’t even realised it was ANZAC Day until midweek, and we didn’t realise it was also Poppy Day until Friday. (they don’t have a November Remembrance Day). But not many people have been wearing poppies. We bought some and having been wearing ours (well, I have, John lost his pin!), but I had been wondering whether they only wear them on the Day itself, so have been waiting to see. No - a few more could be seen, but not many - and I was surprised because there is such a strong feeling of patriotism here. It all became clearer when the news reported record numbers of people (in their thousands - many young families) attending Remembrance Parades across the country ... at dawn! They just don’t wear their poppies all the
time.
Sadly the news also reported the crash of a helicopter on its way to the parades, with the loss of life of 3 of the service personnel on board, the other being critical in hospital. But I was openmouthed in shock when the report went on to tell listeners which road gave the best view of the wreckage.
Eventually we arrived in Windy Wellington (yes, we can see how it got that name) and went to check the whereabouts of the ferry terminal for tomorrow - the choppiness of the water and tomorrow’s forecast don’t bode well for a smooth crossing. We then took off for the highly recommended Wellington Museum, Te Papa. It’s great for kids - I especially liked the lifesized model of a whale’s heart that kids could clamour through, John did say I could go in, but I wasn’t sure I’d get back out again (hmm - perhaps that was his evil plan?!). The earthquake simulator was also quite good - but I have to say, it wasn’t as good as in the Natural History Museum in London (from what I remember!). [Perhaps it’s because London is competing on an international stage and
this was a very nationally focused museum. It was certainly very stylish, although personally, I would have preferred more exhibits to bolster the gloss.]
My favourite part was the area on migrants into NZ - where they came from and why, highland clearances and Irish potato famine were 2 obvious ones, but others, such as the introduction of linen weaving machines in NI surprised me. There was also a film on the journeys that migrants in the 30s-50s took to get to NZ - a mixed bunch there was too - as well as the English, Scottish and Irish, there were Hungarian (escaping across the border at night just after the failed uprising), German (Jewish migrants just before the war), Indian (the last part of the journey was by water plane from Australia), Samoan (on a open ship in high seas with everyone being very sick), Polish (children who had been orphaned and put in camps during the war - this was a heartrending story, especially when the chap said the first part of their journey had been in a cattle ship, they had to sleep in a cattle pen and were sick for most of the journey -
they weren’t shown any compassion until they changed onto an American troop ship at Singapore). It was absolutely fascinating.
It also gave me the chance to check what was indigenous and what had been introduced - you may recall me musing on the abundance of pampas grass ... well, as suspected it was introduced by Europeans in 1868. I think I also mentioned that the Maoris brought in rats as well as dogs in 1200 (apparently they were house rats ... not quite sure what difference that makes) - they also brought in yams and taro. But of course, its the Europeans that have made the biggest difference. Instead of appreciating what they had, it seems that they tried to create their own home country in NZ - not only did they introduce domestic animals, such as cows and sheep - but they also introduced stoats and weasels - for hunting and for the fur trade. A variety of flora was brought in - but they also introduced our native birds - even sparrows and linnets. Its not surprising that some of the indigenous species have suffered - the kiwi obviously, but the flightless parrot is in a seriously
bad position - 10 years ago there were approx 50 left - they were all moved to a pest-free island and work has been undertaken to improve numbers ... there are now 86. (You may have seen this bird trying to mate with someone’s head on ‘Last Chance to See’ with Stephen Fry).
The worst part of the visit was without a doubt the Salvation Army Brass Band! This was a special treat for ANZAC Day, and the Band itself was good - but the chap who got up to sing ‘I believe I can fly’ was terrible! (It goes to show how bad he was, because even I could tell it was awful and I’m tone deaf!) (bring back Orville, that’s what I say). Still the rest of the show was entertaining, but we left when they started on Beatles numbers ... I had to get John out before he started saying very rude things!
So what else to do on a very windy drab afternoon in Wellington? We ate a late sandwich looking over the Bay studying those choppy waters and then drove up to what the guidebooks described as hip and happening Cuba Street (slight
agenda there as it’s also the headquarters for NZ Quilter magazine, but as suspected it was closed). The area didn’t quite live up to our expectations. Some fantastic buildings looking almost decrepit - when will they realise they’ve got to look after the heritage and history that they have - painting it purple and putting an adult sex shop in downstairs and students in the rooms above ain’t gonna save it for posterity. Still, we walked around looking up. All the coffee shops for which it’s renowned were closed or closing, we decided against body piercing (one shop was called Flesh Wounds!) and couldn’t make our minds up which tattoo to have, so we passed on that too (!!) Eventually we decided to go back to the car with John describing the area as ‘decidedly seedy’ ... disappointingly I couldn’t disagree. Perhaps we didn’t choose well.
And for those who have been following the saga and wondering ... the flipflops seem to be doing very well - John even drove in them one day! Obviously this isn’t something we’d do in Blighty, but it seems perfectly acceptable here. [Sand fleas biting your feet brought a swift return to boots
though!]
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