It's January. So clearly it's time to be anywhere but Sydney. That's correct my dedicated reader, it's the first vacay of the year. Vacay? Yes, my boomer friend, vacay, it's millennial talk for vacation. Aren't they clever? They saved one whole syllable. So thrifty, the younger generation. Unless it comes to money.
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| This beautiful flowering tree was everywhere |
This morning saw drizzle in Sydney. Exciting, but a tease for the rain that is really needed across the whole state. No, make that country. The holiday blog is usually not too political as you would know my astute reader. However, writing from the seventh state of Australia, aka, New Zealand, in a time of environmental crisis and a leadership void, remaining Jane Austen, bat-shit-boring, might present as a challenge. I will try ... actually, no chance. Therefore, if you qualify as a RWFW*, probably best to leave now. I'll give you a minute ... still here? Ok then.
Where was I? Oh, yes, the Sydney weather. The smoke was supposed to have cleared today. I saw no evidence of that. It was cloudy and there was light drizzle but the smoke seemed to be there. This was later confirmed as we sat in the lounge at the airport and again as we took to the air. I have lived in Sydney, or thereabouts, for almost 60 years and I can never recall such putrid air quality or such devastation as a result of bushfires. Generally, we get smoke haze in autumn, for a couple of days, when the RFS and National Parks' people are conducting hazard reduction or back-burning operations. Oh, wait. That's not possible. Because apparently the current fires are because we don't back-burn, according to the RWFWs. However, we haven't really seen the sun or blue sky in Sydney for over a month.
Sorry, sorry, I'll get back to the vacay. But, imagine if NZ was the seventh state and Jacinda was our PM. AWESOME!
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| I like this guy's attitude. And the blue sky. |
We landed in windy Wellington after a very pleasant and uneventful flight. Lunch was lovely as was the accompanying champagne and wine. Service was professional and friendly, cheers Qantas. The only thing missing when we landed was the wind. There was a breeze, but not wind, and it was quite pleasant, around 18°. We picked up the car - a Corolla, with GPS. Wait, I ordered a GPS - oh ... yeah ... best to take the portable GPS too, in case the one in the car doesn't work. Nice. For them. The GPS worked. Why wouldn't it in a brand new car? Hertz, we need to talk.
A reasonably benign drive to the Sofitel despite the GPS trying to take me around the block. That's twice in two weeks now and in different countries. They might have a nice, polite, British voice, but they can't be trusted.
Bags dropped. Car valeted (is that a word?). Room surveyed. Time to hit the capital of NZ. Wow, that didn't take long. We were back at the hotel in 15 minutes. Come on, I'm joking. Five minutes walk placed us at the waterfront, where all the action takes place in Wellington. Maybe. Maybe not. I'm not judging.
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| Sea urchins. I get it. |
What I did see were far too many people jogging with backpacks. Surely they weren't running home? And far too many people on scooters. Not children. Adults, on electric scooters. Well, some of them were old, but they clearly weren't adults.
The foreshore area is quite pleasant. It was sunny, a little breezy, cool, blue sky. Anyone from fire-ravaged parts of Australia would be rapt. A tourist and/or afterwork mecca for a meal and a drink. There were plenty of bars and eateries. And people jogging and scootering, but I think I mentioned that. Aside from the distracting people there are sculptures dotted around the area, some obvious in intent, others not so much, but they add to the general vibe.
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| The fall of Rome? |
Fashions were interesting. Either there are a lot of Canadians here on holiday (sorry, eh) or the locals all wear shorts and t-shirts. They tended to contrast with the puffy jackets and sou'westers, scarves and beanies.
The wander around town revealed the usual global businesses, so there is no need to name them. But, if you wanted to have really shit American coffee made by a mermaid you could do that. Equally, you could shop at Australia's number one department store, because there is no other store like ... You get the picture.
After the initial reconnoitre of the waterfront, we returned to choose a place for dinner. There were plenty of options, but given the food we had in the lounge in Sydney and then on the plane and the time difference, we weren't really that hungry. Although we knew we'd have to eat something. The choice was the Crab Shed. Be adult, don't think that. Anyway, if you're a Kiwi, it's pronounced Creb Shid. However, there was a 30 minute wait for the table. So, no crabs for us. Tonight at least.
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| The view from the hotel window. It's hilly. |
Eventually we sought shelter from the breeze at Portofino, an Italian place that offered a wide menu, an interesting wine list and a very loud waitress. Tonight, though, it was to be three entrées to keep body and soul together. With a robust rosé from Gisborne. Nice.
Then back into the breeze and the growing dusk to walk up the hill back to the hotel to plan tomorrow's activities. Well, that part is Jayne's responsibility. My work is done, almost, I still have to vet the photos. And I did manage to get us here. Oh, yeah, and then there is the blog, which I am concluding now as I drink a nice cup of tea. True story.
Oh! I almost forgot to reference the song title for this post. Is there any other way to commence a vacay in heaven? Slice of Heaven, the 1986 eminently hummable hit song by NZ legend Dave Dobbyn. If you haven't heard it click here. Sorry about the ads.
At this infant stage of the holiday, I make the bold statement that ALL titles will be songs from Australian bands/musicians from the seventh state. Let's face, the choices are almost endless: Crowded House, Split Enz, Mi Sex, Dragon, Shihad, Flight of the Conchords, 30 Odd Foot of Grunts, Wilde and Reckless ... what? You haven't heard of the last two bands. Talk to Dr Google.
Until tomorrow.
* rightwing fuckwit
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