Living Large in Wellington

This Sunday we moved into our new home for the next 6 months and went fishing for the first time since we arrived in New Zealand. 

First, the house.  Oh my god, the house.  Turning 30 hasn’t slowed down my metabolism (haha, eat it bitches) yet, but perhaps it’s affected the previously unfelt domestic parts of my brain.  I have such a hard-on for this house it hurts.  It overlooks the ocean and is a short walk to several bars and cafes.  The kitchen has a long wooden table, the kind I never knew I’ve always wanted, and I have an office on the 3rd floor.  The 3rd floor! The floor that has the best view of the ocean in the entire house.  I might never leave Wellington now.  I’ve been trying to keep myself from just blindly repeating “I love you” to the Southerner for bringing me here, renting this house, and cooking dinner last night. 

La cocina

After moving into the most incredible house on the planet, we went fishing on the Upper Hutt.  Surprisingly, the river and the surrounding area looked exactly like a lot of rivers we fished in Montana.  Except the wind.  The guide was decent enough to just look away every time I tried to cast in the wind.  We originally signed up for a half-day of fishing, but ended up going until 8:30 p.m.  Our guide, Stephen, was awesome.  Once I learned that he was a fellow foodie, I probed him for all of his favorite restaurants in Wellington, and I can’t wait to try some of his suggestions when Dad gets here (Stephen has some pricey taste buds).

And because I’m pretty sure I’m going to be mentioning the wind in just about every post I write about Wellington: Today I tried to run alongside the shoreline and learned the true meaning of “resistance training.” I kept trying to run, and the wind kept resisting my attempts to move forward.

ps.  I know this blog is getting indecently boring.  Me me me.  Look at me.  I’m so happy living my fairytale life in my BIG UNBELIEVABLY BEAUTIFUL house in NEW ZEALAND.  If you’re still hanging in there, thanks.  I’ll go to a strip club soon or flash someone while drunk and get deported and then you can all triumph in my Schadenfreude.  But for the time being, I’m so Wellington (oh yes I did) I make myself want to puke.

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One Response to Living Large in Wellington

  1. chrissy says:

    jealous….

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