Wellington

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After being ill in Featherston I went to wellington and checked into the closest hostel to the train station. The downtown backpackers, slightly away from downtown but really close to the train station and ferry port. Went to McDonalds, about the only time I eat McDonalds is when I’m hungover - the fat, sugar and salt content of a value meal seem to be just what my body craves when recovering from too much drink. I purchased my meal - super size - walked towards a free seat and dropped the lot. Enough - I was starting to think that my run of bad luck would just continue - but then the nice manager gave me the meal again. I walked more carefully to the seats and started to feel a little better as the junk food did its work.

Slept for a few hours in the dorm. When I awoke I was Kiwi Experienced, 5 guys from the Kiwi Experience tour had turned up and were starting to drink - (I’ll mention no names) - nice guys but the stereo type of the Kiwi Experience, went down to the bar to watch the pool competition. The Irish guy from the K.E. had entered and despite being really drunk was really good, he grew up in a pub so had a big advantage. The $100 prize would mean that they could drink all evening. He played his heart out, winning every game and crawling back from the brink of losing several times, he kept saying that if he’d known there was a decent prize he wouldn’t have drunk as much straight rum. He won. The prize turned out to be a bus tour of Wellington - for which he would not be around for, the $100 prize had been a figment of his friends imaginations. He was so gutted, he was leaving tomorrow and had no use for the ticket. Worst of all, the second prize was a bottle of champagne and he should have played to lose the last game.

I went to bed at twelve - at 4.30am five really noisy really drunk guys turned up, switched on all the lights and made a huge amount of noise going to bed. At 6.30am five really noisy really drunk guys got up made a huge amount of noise getting ready to catch the Kiwi Bus at 7.20am. I decided to change hostel.

Somewhere totally different, reading in the Lonely Planet the Beethoven sounded interesting. Classical music would be played in the morning by the eccentric owner Alan, after which a free breakfast would be served. I checked in. Alan said that he was going out to his farm in the afternoon, would I like to go, do some gardening in return for accommodation, sounded like just the ticket after my two rough days and nights. Spent a nice day weeding and lawn mowing, reading and listening to classical music and some of Alan’s many opinions on life. At 8pm in the evening everything stopped for Coronation St. - I read in a corner.

The next day I could have gone gardening again, I had to use the Internet and make sure that I answered my mails and fixed a few things on London Office Jobs. At breakfast I chatted with Howard a Police man from Oslo, he was cycling from tip to tip of New Zealand, and was writing about it on his web page - English here (when someone writes a translator). I had also to go to Featherston - collect some money for writing off the car. On the way back from Featherston I sat normally on the train in an empty carraige, then lots of drunk people got on - each one told me that I was on the wrong carraige and that this was a private party and to have a drink and join in anyway - they’d been wine tasting all day. The conductor told me that the normal passengers were through the next carriage, past the party - I didn’t make it. Talked with Bridget Jones, her real name, and they were as surprised to find a pome in the middle of their Christmas party as I was to be in the middle of the Christmas party. One nice lady told me about the carols at the sea front in the evening.

Howard and I went down to the harbour at around 8pm for the Christmas Carols - I had no idea what to expect, what I found were about 30,000 people around a stage with local radio celebrities singing Christmas carols. The carols had been jazzed up for the occasion, really good time and atmosphere, though the wind was so strong and I got cold. Afterwards Howard and I went Molly Mallones for a live band - lots of Irish music, inc. the Pogues and U2.

Changed hostel, although I’d had an interesting time at Beethoven’s I wanted a change meet a few more people. I wandered up the road and looked at a couple more hostels - I decided to stay in Maple Lodge. Really nice little hostel, which doesn’t take advance bookings, nice idea, John the owner says that the majority don’t turn up so why bother plus most of the time its full anyway. Always ready to talk with the guests, John told me where some of the Lord of the Rings movie had been shot. The scene from the first film with the cowering hobbits and the black rider on the road had been filmed just up the hill in a small group of trees. I think I found them on my way up to the summit of Mount Victoria.

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Photos

Trees from Lord of The Rings
I think