To the East, to the East, the road beneath my feet,
To the West, to the West, I haven’t got there yet,
And to the North, to the North, never to be caught,
To the South, to the South, my time is running out.
When do you know you’ve finally settled somewhere? Is it when everything in life starts to fall into place? Your favourite mug at breakfast, every morning; effortless evenings in with friends; the easy familiarity of the once daunting workplace; the satisfaction of routine jobs, taking out the bins, keeping the firewood stocked up, feeding the rabbits; the joy of watching the same garden bloom from tiny seeds to abundant food? Yes, that was when we knew we’d settled down.
For those that don’t know, we took some time out from travelling and spent the last year in Cumbria, out in the wild North West of England. We wintered in Ennerdale Bridge, chilled by the harsh weather but warmed by the people, safe among the mountains, and spent summer out on the coast, living in a castle, of all places. This land became our home, the people our family. Finally we had put down roots and found our place. But all this would come to pass because, in the bleak midwinter last year, we booked one-way tickets to New Zealand for November 2018. There was no way we were going to put up with another winter like that for some time. A trip to the Southern Hemisphere seemed like a brilliant idea.
So here we are, in New Zealand, back on the road. We’ve only been here for about a month we’ve already fallen in love with this beautiful country. Friendly people, awesome scenery and abundant wildlife. What more could you want? That’s right, a burgeoning craft beer scene and top notch coffee culture. Well, it turns out they have that sorted too.
After a four day stopover in Singapore – all familiar streets, hawker centres for mala hotpot to melt our faces all over again, the super-trees all lit up at night, hawker centres for the best laksa we’ve ever tasted, the superbly curated National Gallery and more hawker centres for insanely delicious barbeque pork rice – we arrived in Wellington, its bay stretched out before us, its mountains cloaked in lush greenery hiding mysteries beneath and its short runway causing our Boeing 777 to hit the ground with rather more force than we’d have liked.
Jet-lagged and haggard, Hollie, a friend from way back, met us at the airport. Just for clarity, it was us that were jet-lagged and haggard, not Hollie. And so we spent a week in absolute luxury, hosted by Hollie and Tom, her fiance, enjoying the spectacular views from their hillside home, whiling away the evenings playing board games, reminiscing about the old days in the West Country and looking forward to the new days to come.
Unlike us, Hollie and Tom are respectable(ish) people with respectable jobs, which meant that during the day we were free to explore windy Wellington. Why ‘windy’ you ask? Not because it doesn’t have straight streets – the city is laid out quite sensibly – but because of the incessant wind that batters the place. Sometimes it’s a warm, welcome kind of wind and sometimes it’s a bitter wind from the South, straight from Antarctica, but it’s always there. Fortunately, the best bits of Wellington aren’t on the outside, but in its bars, cafes and museums, so we ducked out of the gales and checked them all out. More on this in our next post.