Wellington: Boom or bust, but mostly bust

We arrived in Wellington full of hope. We arrived at the only hostel with free off-street parking in Wellington slightly less full of hope after seeing the manky neighbourhood where it was located. We looked around our dorm room and had all hope vanish. The room smelled of mildew and vomit, there was food and trash all over the floor, and the beds had clearly not been changed since they were last occupied. We went wandering around the central business district to look for the ‘help wanted’ signs that have been in nearly every café we’ve come across and lack of hope descended into downright dejection. Help wanted signs were few and far between, and most wanted experienced staff only. That night we went to a restaurant for supper as we didn’t want to cook in the hostel’s filthy, filthy kitchen; after dinner, we got lost in the side streets of Wellington’s downtown district. Glen became nauseous from his greasy meal and we went back to the hostel. I slept on top of the covers that night, wrapped up in my pyjama bottoms and fleece jacket. It was cleaner that way.

The next morning we attempted to find a different, cleaner hostel to stay at. Parking was the problem. No one had any parking, and everyone’s beds were ludicrously expensive. At least the dirty hostel where we were at had an option to camp either in one’s tent or in a car, which knocked the cost in half and significantly decreased the grossness factor as we wouldn’t have to sleep in their beds. After completely striking out on the parking and alternative accommodations front, we went for coffee. One brief conversation we decided that we a) didn’t want to stay in Wellington, and b) didn’t want to find work there either. It seemed completely pointless; we could waste huge amounts of time looking for jobs that, with the exchange rate being what it is, pay us peanuts and eat up all our time, and then we would have to go and spend all – or possibly more – than we earned on dorm beds in overcrowded, drunk-filled hostels. Why stay? Why bother?

The problem of work and accommodation therefore being solved with a surprisingly abortive solution, we were prepared to enjoy our next day or two in the city. We went wandering around the waterfront and the central business district, we ate pre-packaged salad for supper, we slept in the car. The next day’s primary activity was me going to a belly dance class – huzza! – and us being adopted for the following night by one of the lovely ladies I met at the class. She and her husband run one of the downtown motor lodges and offered a room in their home (which is a private section of the motor lodge) for the night. Naturally, we jumped at the offer and after spending the day chatting and socializing and sharing the Kaikoura Crème, and then going to see a belly dance performance at a Turkish restaurant in the evening, we slept solidly in a warm, comfortable, very clean bed.

The next morning we left Wellington to carry on with our northwards journey. We left behind notions about working while traveling, quality of time over quantity of time spent, and ideas about finding travelers accommodations in the city. Alas, we also left behind the remainder of the Kaikoura Crème. It was an entirely accidental oversight and we are still licking that wound, but the nice people from belly dance seemed to really like it and after their hospitality I think that one bottle of booze is not amiss.

Still…no more Kaikoura Crème…