Chapter 2: Wellington

Wellington truly is a beautiful city and the people who live here say that everyone in the world would be here if it weren't for the weather. It's often called "Windy Welly" (figure that one out) and the weather reminds me a bit of the Pacific Northwest. There are a lot of cold, rainy, blustery days. When it is sunny, everyone talks about it like we've won the lottery.

But no matter, it is really lovely here. A beautiful place is still a beautiful place even in shitty weather. Wellington is a modestly-sized city surrounded by bushy hills and at it's feet, a wide and sparkling harbor. You can walk along the boardwalk near the sea and look out at arms of mountains hugging the horizon. The city itself is, as my friend S heard someone say, almost European in atmosphere. Modern buildings are mixed in with the old. The houses are often Victorian and charming. In the Aro Valley neighborhood--which Wellingtonians warned us away from as being "cold and damp"--the houses are a patchwork of bright colors with stained glass windows. Even if the sun rarely gets down in that valley in the winter, the houses are bright enough to make the neighborhood seem warm and cozy to my eyes.

M and I were lucky to find an apartment the very first day of our search--a one bedroom place in a neighborhood called Highbury, which true to its name, is high in the bushy hills overlooking the city. We have a beautiful view of the sea, and in the morning, you can hear birds singing in the bushes around our house. When I hear the birds sing in New Zealand, I know I am in a different place. The birds here sing like birds out of a fairytale!. Their songs are sweet and lilting--nothing like the tweety-tweety birdsongs I am used to in America. (No offense to my American birds...I like you guys too.)




Our first weeks here, we spent a lot of time shopping. A LOT. I feel like I've moved a trillionzillionmillion times in my life, but I always forget what an ordeal it is to completely set up a new home. We had sold or given away all of our stuff in Tokyo, so we were truly starting from scratch. We would make lists like--

Must Have
Espresso machine
Pots and pans
Table
Heater
Rice Cooker
Plates
Bowls

and so on. And by the end we were cramming the little margins with essentials like

Sponges!
Hangers!
Bath mat!
Olive oil!
oh shit...Toilet Paper!

On our shopping trips, this was when I became an Obnoxious Tourist, as I could NOT get over how much everything COST. I became that girl, That Girl who would cry out loudly in a glaring American accent in the middle of a store aisle, "EIGHT fucking DOLLARS for ONE FORK? ONE FORK? Is it made of fucking STERLING SILVER?"

"TWELVE DOLLARS for a PLATE? ONE PLATE??? Maybe we should just share one, for Pete's sake."

"EIGHTEEN DOLLARS FOR A SIX-PACK OF BEER???? ROBBERY!!! HIGHWAY ROBBERY!!"

"SIX GODDAMN DOLLARS for a CUCUMBER?? ONE FUCKING CUCUMBER??"

(Granted, these may have been the outcries of my soul, and not ACTUAL obnoxious wailing in the aisles, although some of it, yes, did escape my lips.)

Coming from Tokyo, I had expected things to cost way less, and was smugly confident that the strength of my yen converted to NZ dollars would render all of New Zealand's living expenses gleefully affordable, and that my meager savings would still last me as long as it would in, say, Bangkok. How wrong I was. By the end of it, I was weeping for a 100 yen shop, and wondering if it might even be cheaper to have my friends buy me plates and bowls in Japan and ship them over.

(Some things are cheap though. I've had some great bottles of wine for under 10 dollars...and you gotta love a country with good, cheap wine.)

Somehow, we were able to get everything and luckily we had the loan of a car for the week to lug it all home. Once everything was unwrapped and put in its place, however, I think we were both delighted with the shiny, tidy, newness of all of our new stuff in our new home.

There were some moments of conflict.

M prefers a Spartan, one might say, hospital-esque aesthetic of clean, clutter-free surfaces and stainless steel appliances. He comes from an Interior Design school of thought valuing FUNCTION.

I give you, Exhibit: A. Function.



I, however, prefer spots of bright color, a Resort-in-Bali like aesthetic. I like patterned cushions, ethnic tapestries, and displaying random treasures. I come from an Interior Design school of thought valuing PERSONALITY.

I give you Exhibit B. Personality.



But we have compromised. I have come to see that clear, clean surfaces are much easier to keep clean. I also appreciate the less-is-more aesthetic and have toned down my urge to display my random treasures--which, M argues, often deteriorate into states of dust-fuzzy rubbish. M has also been flexible with a few things too--like the apple ornament I hung in the kitchen. Or displaying our colorful mugs. I don't know if he's discovered my string of rainbow colored birds made with Indian fabrics that I hung from the window though.