Wellington

So then we were in Wellington, the self-titled “Coolest Little Capital in the World”.  It’s full of independent bars, eateries and coffee shops.  Sadly, being independent, they were unbeholden to franchise requirements and were mostly closed for the festive season until some point in the middle of January (11th to the 14th, most of them).  Don’t get me wrong, there was enough open that we didn’t do without, but here we are, trying to support local enterprise and they’ve all tossed it in for two weeks like a pack of ungrateful, workshy bastards.

(Chantelle has just peered over my shoulder and shouted: “Have you said that they were all fucking shut?”)

Anyhoo, after four hours of driving to Wellington and thirty minutes after check-in, I was trying out a beer fight at a local brewery. It agreed.

Coffee in New Zealand has been pretty top drawer so far –especially since I was still reeling from the South American betrayal- and the Kiwi coffee culture has something of a hub in Wellington. 

Understated place. 

So, once we found somewhere open, I tried out some of that too.   This here is “coffee three ways” – espresso, flat white (which was invented in New Zealand, by the way) and a cold brew:

We popped into the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa - which is their national museum and art gallery.

They've a fairly eclectic mixture of national and natural exhibits.  This is a Colossal Squid for example:

"Welcome to Earth"

That's both a description and its actual, very apt, designation.  It was caught in the Ross Sea, off Antarctica, attached to a fish some local fishermen pulled up.  Why it didn't let go, no one can figure, but it didn't and then promptly expired at the hand of the pressure difference.  Squid experts were flown in from all over the world to poke it for the 24 hours before it started to fall apart.  That was a fun day for them, I'm sure.

There was a guest exhibition from Dreamworks, creators of all the animated films you've not seen apart from Shrek, or maybe Madagascar.  It was a very informative demonstration of the animation process though, and I really should see How To Train Your Dragon - it looks rather good.  And they did put a bit of effort in apparently.

 Rough first drafts for Shrek

The exhibits detailing the relationship between New Zealand and the rest of the world were illuminating.  I felt quite bad reading about the closeness between their and our fair isles, bearing in mind what high regard they have for us (They didn't even argue that hard for independence: when Parliament decreed the complete independence of the Dominions in 1931, it was years before the Kiwis ratified it) and the sacrifices they have made for the Empire in both wars, but how they were then cut off from us when we joined the European Economic Community (now the EU) in 1973 - losing them their guaranteed trade privileges with the UK.  Between this and their antagonising of the USA by their steadfastly declaring themselves to be antinuclear during the Cold War, it meant that they ended up finding new friends with whom to trade and align.  So I felt glad for them finding their own way, but also a bit traitorous for shutting them out.  Not that I had anything to do with it, but still.

The Great War has a particular significance to New Zealand, as they were less accustomed to murdering their youth en-masse as we Old World countries were, but also because it marked a cornerstone in their national self-determination. The most infamous and socially resonant of the military engagements in which they and the Aussies were involved was the disastrous campaign at Gallipoli.

The exhibition here (for which there is an excellent companion website) follows the stories of eight Kiwis involved in the conflict by way of interactive displays and exhibits, but more tangibly by way of giant waxwork statues in 2.4:1 scale, dressed and made-up in impeccable detail.

'But more wonderful to me was that the night air was broken vigorously by the Maori war cry of 'Ka mate, ka mate! Ka ora, ka ora!' "We may die, we may die! We may live, we may live!" ' 

- Captain Peter Buck, the night before Chunuk Bair.

The stories are of a young lieutenant, injured and evacuated in the first assault; a medical officer who manned a field hospital for months before being taking away, ruined by exhaustion;  a poor sod condemned to be shot for falling asleep on sentry while recovering from pneumonia, pardoned only to be shot by the Turks three days later;  the Maori machine gunners, singing the haka before battle, before being torn to pieces at Chunuk Bair;  the nurse serving on a hospital ship, keen to find her brother out in the field, only to discover he was three months dead by way of returned mail; the veteran of the campaign who went on to endure more slaughter for three further years in France. 

 

It was poignant, haunting and informative stuff. 

A slightly happier item in the collection is this Maori prayer book, which took a Turkish round meant for its owner.

Well done, Good Book.

Other exhibits elsewhere in the museum included this also pretty haunting baby thing that you could manipulate with levers.  I forget the purpose of it beyond generating sleepless nights for passing children.

Another exhibit discussed the issues around the 1840 Treaty of Waitangi, where we got (most of) the Maori to sign themselves into the club, and become decent citizens of the only empire that matters. Thing is, owing to translational difficulties due to the Maori language having some rather divergent concepts of 'ownership' and 'sovereignty', they are still arguing today about what they signed up for. 

  

Back on the outside, we took the cablecar (which is actually a funicular railway, pulled by cable) to the suburb of Kelburn, which lives on top of the hill overlooking the city.  It's been a fixture of the city since 1902 in various forms, first being pulled by horse and then by steam and electric motors. The tunnel on the way up takes a bit of a psychedelic turn these days, though.

At the cable car museum near the top terminal, we learned that Wellington has a particular fondness for cable cars, and many private residences in the hill-top suburbs have their own down to the base of the hill. Evidently this makes walking back with shopping a tad less irksome.

Quite cool.

We really liked it in Wellington. I'm sure we'll like it more if we come back when people are here.

As an aside, the Kiwis are going to vote in a referendum in March as to whether to rid themselves of their old flag and get this new one:

It rather suits them, but enough Kiwis still like us a bit more than we deserve, so we'll see.

Here are some more pictures from about town:

Kurzfassung auf Deutsch: Wellington gefällt uns. Ärgerlicherweise gab viele Geschäfte und Cafés, bis nach Neujahr geschlossen.

Sleep-resistant in Seattle

So we've been in Seattle for the last couple of days and now we're at the airport Hilton, as tomorrow we're picking up a car for the first 'road trip' element of the jaunt.  Chan wants to write about the general touristy stuff in Seattle, so it remains to me to talk about the town's best export that didn't peer down the wrong end of a twelve-gauge.

This here is the first ever Starbucks:

Sack that

In case you are somehow unaware, Starbucks are the main reason that espresso-based coffee drinks are now vended -very nearly literally- on every urban street corner in the developed world.  Whether you consider that a good thing is another discussion, but it certainly suits my proclivities and daringly avant-garde approach to sleep regularity. Regardless, it's a place of caffeine-dealing significance and so I stopped to take a picture, considered grabbing a brew and then promptly considered not doing that as there was a 90 minute wait to be served.  

An hour and a half.  

Bollocks, more like.  In that time I would've hit withdrawal, gone cold turkey, visited regular support groups and gone on to become a productive member of society.  So we bimbled around town, trying out the home turf competition. 'We' being largely 'me'.

Tully's

It's alright

Tully's started with the rather amusing strategy of building a competing branch next to every new branch of Starbucks and then playing off of local brand loyalty to win business. A bold approach that took them 14 years to turn a profit and then another 6 to go bankrupt.  They were then bought out by a group of investors led by Patrick Dempsey (of grittily-portrayed neurosurgeon in Grey's Anatomy fame) just because. They also spell their large cup size veinte, which is nice.  There's no telling them that fluid ounces don't make any damn sense, though.

Top Pot Doughnuts

The focus of this place is more on the dough-fried-in-rendered-pig front, as the name suggests.  Evidently this place is a bit of a local phenomenon as we were queuing for twenty minutes, first thing in the day.  This isn't too bad as it gives you chance to choose the means of your arteries' destruction.

"You have chosen....wisely"  *clutches left arm*

The beverage with the ice floating in it is 'Cold Brewed' coffee.  I saw the like in Canada also, so it may well be something widespread and coffee-based that somehow has passed under my radar (presumably at night and close to the treeline), but it involves steeping ground coffee in cold water for a day or more to produce a sweeter, less acidic version of iced coffee.  If they've got the time, I've got the money, I guess.

Zeitgeist

It means 'Spirit of the time' by the way.

The coffee was good, the food was gluten-free and the MacBooks were knee-deep.  The bearclaw we had as a substitute for the one we didn't find at Tully's was a bit lame, though.

Starbucks Reserve

To be honest, I did not know this place existed until we happened on it.  It's a big coffee shop/gift shop/pie shop thing. All the coffee and accoutrements you'll ever need at only double the price.  I tried some free samples of some Vietnamese coffee and then left.  Smash the state, comrade.

Bauhaus

Also a German name; a bit more tolerable this time. 

Another German name.  This time it's referring to a famous school of art and design which heavily influenced German modernism. I'm fun at parties.  In reality it's a quirky place filled with students and it's walls are lined with books and terrible horror cartoon artwork. Apparently genuine writers come here to work in the loft, and you can believe it too as it has that 'I'm working and not dicking about on facebook' vibe to it.

Espresso Vivace.

This place is famous for selling specifically Northern-Italian espresso and for having a naff lino floor and stand-up bar, serving the street.  It's great.  I had a Caffe Nico, principally because I had no idea what it was.  It involved a double espresso, something other than milk being steamed, zest from an orange and some manner of dark incantation to things that ought not be meddled with by man. It would doubtless be my 'thing' were I to live here.

Kurzfassung auf Deutsch:  Ich habe so viel Kaffee getrunken, dass ich durch Zeit und Raum zu sehen kann.