We’ve arrived in Wellington! We actually got here last Wednesday but I’ve been too busy trying to overcome MAJOR technological hurdles (learning the difference between volts and amps or something like that) to write. We’re staying in an Extended stay motel that does not invite the extension of staying anywhere but getting the hell out of here. Picture me and the Southerner in a motel the size of a shoe box with one bathroom and a horrible internet connection and you’re still not coming close to imagining the horr-or of clothes all over the floor and the cleaning woman who I’ve affectionately dubbed “So Sorry” after what she keeps saying to me every time she barges into our room without knocking because the horr-or of the clothes all over the floor is really starting to get to her too. Poor So Sorry, I know you’re silently cursing me, that white-devil-woman, under your Korean breath for lounging around all day eating ham and cheese croissants while pacing the room waving my computer up in the air in the hopes that it might momentarily establish an internet connection.
I know. I know. Quit whining, white devil woman. You’re in New Zealand! And it’s beautiful and everyone has lovely accents and keeps referring to me as cute every time I make an egregious faux pas. Who knew OZ meant Australia? Not me! How cute.
The Southerner and I got a little inebriated at the airport before leaving and about an hour after we took off a frantic flight attendant came over the intercom to ask if there was a doctor on the plane. At first, I looked around with all the other passengers to see who would volunteer and then the Southerner stood up and I remembered, DUH, my boyfriend is a doctor. Why do I always forget this fact?
He was gone for two hours tending to a woman who was having a severe panic attack (at first the flight attendant thought it was a heart attack) and Qantas generously rewarded us with a bottle of champagne, wine, and these pajamas they give people in first-class. Damn, first-class you’ve got it good. Those pajamas are so soft, I’ve worn them every night since.
Wellington is awesome, but I still don’t have very good pictures. Things I’ve noticed so far:
1. Many people don’t wear shoes. As in, we’re walking down a major city street and stop somewhere to get a snack and maybe two of the five patrons inside are shoeless. Not being a foot-hater myself it doesn’t bother me, I’m just curious. I want to ask someone but I don’t think I can handle being called cute yet again.
2. The wind. Wow. I feel like there should be a rope line you could tether yourself too before venturing out in the street and trying very hard not to let the wind slam you into oncoming traffic. Needless to say, jacket and scarf are a must even on the sunniest day.
3. Fish and Chips. Mainly the Chips with aioli sauce. Say hello to my ever expanding ass.