Windy Welly ~ Derek's Travels

One night in prison was enough for me - what happens in prison, stays in prison. It's like Las Vegas in a way, really, though lacking the annoying commercials. Down from Napier, I followed the coast South, as the rain finally started to catch up to me. In spite of the rain, I still had an eventful drive, made better by a few key purchases. The way most of the small towns here are set up, the speed limit slows and the main road heads right through the middle of town, passing by a few blocks of a supermarket, restaurant or two, information booth, an overpriced gas station and a few other random stores before disappearing as quickly as they came. Passing through one small town, I saw a sports store, and I've been in search of a cheap pair of hiking boots the whole trip, so I figured I'd stop in and take a look. The boots weren't cheap enough, but I did find a cheap pair of Adidas sandals, to replace the painful ones that I bought in Fiji to replace the ones I gave to the Swiss guy in Tahiti. The Fijian ones were really, really cheap, and it showed, so I didn't mind replacing them. I'm still having trouble throwing them away, though, since I want to at least give them to someone else to use, or to be miserable with. In the next town, I saw a store called The Warehouse, and I just continued driving by, but something about the store seemed like it had potential to me. A few debates within my head and a U-turn later, I headed back and ran into the store as the rain poured down. Exactly as I had hoped, I had stumbled upon the NZ version of Wal-Mart. And, no, I don't get this excited about Wal-Mart back home, but this was exactly what I had been searching for. I went into the shoe section, and my selection was a bit limited by the assortment of sizes, but I found a great pair of boots for US$21. Two small, seemingly insignificant purchases, but they made my day. I actually had them in my front seat with me, so I could look at them as I drove. Pathetic, yes. And to add to the brilliant/pathetic scene, the radio gods again granted me a favor in playing Queen's "I Want to Break Free" on the one station, so there I was, cruising through the heavy rain in the middle of a few corn fields and valleys in Nowhere, New Zealand with the radio blaring, a pair of shoes and sandals in the seat next to me, and a huge grin on my face.

Nearing Wellington, I came to a huge mountain pass, which tested the strength of my car. Along with the steep and extremely windy road, looking over steep cliffs, the rain and especially the wind had picked up as I gained elevation. The wind was whipping around the corners at what was said to be about 40-50 miles per hour, and it actually was a force to be reckoned with as my car would significantly slow every time I turned a corner into the battering wind. At one point, two softball sized rocks fell from the overhang just to the side of my car, giving me another thing to worry about, as they would have definitely cracked my windshield if I were a few feet further over, which was not a good thought in the pouring rain, on top of a mountain, especially given my horrible insurance policy and $2,000 deductible from the rental company. Later, I also heard that my friend was hit head-on on that road by someone driving too fast and losing control around a turn, but I made it out without a scratch. Soon, I was in Wellington, the capital of the country. I drove the backroads for a little while, passing again and again where the hostel was supposed to be, so I parked along the steep road, fought my way across the traffic and found the hostel hidden behind a tiny sign that is in no way visible from the road. As it turns out, the hostel was fully booked, so I rain through the rain to the next one, which was also fully booked. I got back to the car and found a few more options on the other side of town, so I made my way through the construction and one way streets to another hostel that wasn't open at the moment. My final option was a hostel just down the road, and it turned out to have availability and a parking lot, so it was perfect.

I did my obligatory walking tour of the city just before the sun set, as I find it a great way to get a feel for a city. Wellington, or Welly or Windy Welly, as the locals call it, has much of a San Francisco feel with a lot of walking areas, steep hills and buildings wrapped around a large U-shaped bay. I walked down the main pedestrian roads, drooled over the menus of a few places from the window, and then I continued down to the waterfront. The business district and a huge museum called Te Papa, exhibiting the natural history of New Zealand, sit right on the water, along with a few other nice looking buildings just a few blocks inland. Looking at some prices and assessing my cravings, I went with the very American option of Domino's Pizza. I know it's bad and wrong and everything, but it really sounded good, and it was cheap, so I ordered a pizza and waited for it to be made, just as more rain started coming down. Following the excruciating 10 minute wait, I grabbed the pizza box and ran back to the hostel, about 3/4 of a mile up a steep hill, through the rain. Luckily, the pepperoni was good enough to make me forget about being wet and tired.

The next morning, I walked back into town and jumped on the cable car up to the top of the hill overlooking the city. Along the steep hill, there is a stop for the university students and then we headed to the top for some good views of the city below, along with a tiny museum dedicated to the historic cable car and its story. Next, I rode back down and made my way to Te Papa to see a bit of it, as it is a free museum, funded by a ton of money somewhere. It opened just a few years ago, and you can tell that no expense has been spared. Unfortunately, I didn't have much time, and the six stories of exhibits was too much for me, so I speed-walked through the first three floors, taking note of the blurred images, stories, stuffed fauna and more that passed in front of my eyes. Taking as much time as I could in the museum, I ran back to the hostel and got my car, heading off in search of my rental car agency. I had about 45 minutes to get it back in time, but I knew it would be an adventure finding the place, given the quality of the company and the horrible map they gave me, indicating two streets on the outskirts of town somewhere that no one seemed to have heard of. I made just a few wrong turns and found the tiny building behind a factory in an alley just outside of town, but right as I pulled in, the gas gauge dropped from 1/4 to a bit below, and I didn't want to risk turning it in without the same amount of gas that it had started with, as I knew this company would have some sort of huge penalty for that. So, I backed out of the alley and went in search of a gas station. A few minutes later, I found an automated station, yet it wouldn't take my bank card, my credit card or anything. I was told that maybe the other pump would work, so I tried that, and then I tried paying a guy $10 cash to put $10 of gas on his card for me, but he didn't want to do that. So, I talked to a passing trucker missing a few key teeth, and he gave me some convoluted directions to another station that certainly didn't work out once I started driving. About ten minutes later, I was getting back into town, but I did find a station, so I put in a few dollars worth of gas, plus the gas spent driving around, looking for gas, and then I headed back to the rental agency.

Again, there was only one guy working in the "office," so I had to wait a while as a few Israelis renting two cars in front of me took their time in inspecting the cars and working out how to pay for it. They did a thorough check of the car, the engine, the interior, which was quite time consuming, especially when they insisted that the worker replace a broken tail light and try to fix a broken back passenger window while we all waited. Maybe a bit of inspection on my part would have been better, but this was a bit excessive. I found a soccer ball in the corner of the deserted garage, though, so I wasted a bit of time playing with that. I finally turned in my car and waited for the "airport transfer," which not surprisingly turned out to be the same guy, driving me to the airport in the exact car that I had just returned. As he started the car, he asked if I liked manual transmissions, and it soon became clear the reason for his question. He stalled the car four times while trying to turn around in the alley, and once again as he tried to pull out in front of three lanes of oncoming traffic, so I was a bit worried that I might not make it to the airport. Shaking and stalling our way through the 20 minute drive, he told me stories about his family back in India and in the US, deciding that New Zealand was the place for him with much better prices and easier living, and I had to agree. At the airport, I had a few hours to kill, and luckily I found a great kiosk with free photo emails, so I spent quite a bit of time working on my random faces, sending emails around, pretending to be normal as other travellers passed by. Time passed quickly as I amused myself and hopefully a few of you, and I soon boarded my plane to Dunedin, to meet my friend on the South Island.