Wellington Part 3 of 4: Random Shenanigans

I have been blessed to have both planned and fairly random experiences while living here.  One such fairly random experience came at night when I decided to go for a stroll down to what became my favorite place to sit and reflect on life: a dock near the edge of the Lambton Harbour that offered warm (and sometimes cool) winds coming around the penninnsula along with the soothing sound of the water dancing below.  At night, it also reflected the lights of the city skyline, along with the scattered street lamps along the surrounding suburbed mountains.  Anyway, one night on my journey out there, an all day concert was just concluding, and with the conclusion came the drunken teenagers of the masses.  I embraced the opportunity to people watch as young boys relieved themselves into the ocean, friends carried their drunker friends to a taxi, and, of course, the occasional hurler (and I'm not talking about the sport, though that would have been awesome).  Ah, what it is to be young.  As I walked to my spot, I noticed a young girl on the ground, propped up against the lone dock building, texting on her phone.  Clearly intoxicated, I assumed she was texting her friends to come help her stand up, and continued on my way.  After a few minutes sitting along the water, I felt guilty not asking if she needed help, and went back to do so.  I came back to discover she was now asleep, still gripping her phone.  "Hmm, this is no good," I thought, and tried shaking her awake.  She was still breathing, but wouldn't stir.  I sat down nearby and considered my options.  There wasn't anyone nearby so finding help didn't seem possible.  I continued to try and wake her up and finally she came around.  Embarrassed, she assured me that she was okay and that friends were on their way.  I left, but along the way, I saw a group of cops were routinely checking the BAC levels of the drivers leaving the concert.  I walked up to one, gave a description and location of the girl, and asked that he check up on her.  I felt better after, however, I concluded that while I very easily could have saved her an uncomfortably cold night sleeping on a dock, it was equally possible she would have been fine without the inconvenience of a cop's prodding and interrogation.  I guess there's never a perfect solution, eh?

I went on a number of planned trips with fellow Vassar alum, Camille.  She introduced me to Malaysian food and also brought me to a cute coffee shop on Cuba Street (appropriately named Fidel's) as well as a lovely little italian cafe.  She was kind enough to drive me along the coast of the pennisula one evening, in time to see the sun set over the Kapiti Coast (see picture to the right).  We even took a night tour of Zealandia, a protected sanctuary for New Zealand wildlife to flourish and survive, in hopes of sighting a wild kiwi bird, though to no avail.  We did encounter quite a few species of birds that only nest in Zealandia as they cannot survive outside the reserve walls thanks to all the predators the humans brought over with them when they first came to New Zealand.  We also saw a Tuatara in rare form.  They are known for their molasses-like movement, capable of not moving or even breathing for up to an hour.  However, on this fateful night, said Tuatara was found in the middle of the walking path and upon our arrival, scurried away quite quickly.  Both tour guides were astonished, saying it was the most they've seen a tuatara move like that in the 10 years they've worked there.  That made up for not seeing a wild kiwi bird.

After a particularly dull couple of days, I found myself in the Wellington Botanic Garden in search of something to cheer me up.  And what did I happen upon but none other than... that's right... a Ukulele Festival!  Who could have thought that such a tiny instrument could bring so much joy!  From workshops to open mic opportunities, this event had it all.  And nothing could be better than just relaxing on a bench or on the grass taking in the sweet sounds.  Perhaps the most enjoyable moment for me came while sitting on a bench listening to a young man from Hawai'i get the crowd to sing along to a song he wrote.  To my right sat a middle aged man, enjoying a lemon flavored frozen yogurt delight that he shared with his young daughter.  To my left sat a much older man, well past his 70's, armed with a cane that he used to aide in both his slow (and what looked like difficult) walking and his eventual slow and steady lowering onto the bench.

Barely noticing them, I continued taking in the music around me and found myself tapping my right foot to the beat.  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the small movement of the middle aged man's right foot also tapping to the beat.  As if out of instinct, I then turned to the older gentleman and found that he too was tapping his right foot to the beat.  So there we were, three men, three generations, three completely different lives unknowingly sharing a moment of unity thanks to the power of music.  In the same venue a week later, I found people gathering for the Latin Music Festival.  This time, armed with a camera, I captured the beautiful Sound Shell stage, occupied by a group of young lads rocking out for the crowd, who responded by expressing themselves through the art of dance.

I went on a quest to find the location at which The Battle of Helm's Deep from the movie The Lord of The Rings was filmed.  Before I go any further, let me start by saying this quest was a bust.  I didn't do nearly enough research to find out where exactly said location was.  All I knew was "Dry Creek Quarry," so I looked that up and figured out how to get there.  I knew I was in bad shape when I arrived at the Manor Park train station, which was basically a desolate piece of concrete.  I figured I'd make the most of it though.  Walking along I saw a sign for Dry Creek Quarry and thought, "Yes, I found it!"  However, "it" turned out to be a construction site of sorts run by Winstone Aggregates.  Luckily, right next to it was Belmont Regional Park, so I went there instead.  If I had taken one of the park's longer hiking trails around the quarry, I may have found what I was looking for, but with it being late in the afternoon and being by myself, I decided against it and instead went for the 45 minute hike to the waterfall (I guess I have a thing for waterfalls).  As I navigated my way along the Wet Foot Track, I felt reguvinated breathing in the crisp air that smelt of damp bark; a refreshing change from the polluted city air.  I made it to the small waterfall and eventually back to the train, taking with me two discoveries: (1) Tranz Metro, the Wellington train, is yet another image of San Francisco in that it is very similar to the BART train, (2) I should go hiking way more often, as it makes me feel healthy and alive.