“How’d it go?” Asked the staff member.
“Good, got everything I needed to, thanks!” I said. I thanked her a couple times for her help. She’d been crazy patient.
Most of my days began with a cafe stop in Petone, a few have started in the city, but not many. Today was Petone for sure. I had intended on one particular cafe, but it was waaaay too crowded for my tastes, and again, the menu had only tomatoes and spinach and mushrooms. I wanted something different.
I also wasn’t sure how well the day would go. I hadn’t slept well, at all, especially from waking up in the middle of the night due to extreme back pain to the point where I couldn’t move. I also had a terrible dream that I won’t share here, but let’s just say there are just some things I will not look at the same for awhile.
I found a larger, emptier cafe under the Clock Tower (no Doc Brown though). Aside from a couple construction workers and a family, there was no one around. I took a look at the menu, and decided french toast would be good – but no bacon. The place looked like a combination of an old retail store and a very old diner. I walked up the counter where I “attempted” to order.
“How bout tomatoes?” Asked the employee. His white shirt had some stains, and his black hair was messy. He seemed busy for a guy working in a restaurant that wasn’t particularly busy. He was determined to replace the bacon.
I shrugged and said okay. I don’t know why I agreed, I didn’t really want tomatoes. I also ordered a hot chocolate, but he kept saying latte. I even corrected him twice. Then he didn’t take credit card, so I dug out some cash. He did not speak English well and the English he did speak just didn’t sound at all like what I had ordered. I was concerned with this, but I had come this far so I wasn’t going to turn around.
Well, I was right to worry. There were french fries, and tomatoes, with my french toast. Sorry, ‘chips’. Now, this was very strange. And my drink? A latte. I said hot chocolate four times, I don’t know how you get ‘latte’ from ‘hot chocolate’. I sat there and tried to determine which bottle on the table was syrup. None, btw. I asked for some and he gave me a very strange look, like it was weird to have syrup on french toast. It’s not like I’m some weird alien who eats people here…
I sat there watching people walk by, and reading my Shakespeare Star Wars. I’d started it two days ago, on Ferry Day, at the cafe in Days Bay. I was about half way through now. It was most excellent. I would have brought my iPad to type, but between my back being incredibly sore, and the sunburn on my shoulder, I did not want a heavy bag.
I finished up with my unsuccessful breakfast and went to wait for the bus. Now, I’d worn a dress today, the only one I’d brought, pretty much just because I brought it, so I was going to wear it. I would like to know the secret to keeping dresses down during such windy days. Today was a windy day. A very windy day, and if I hadn’t had my bag, I’m fairly certain I would have given all of Wellington quite a show. I’ve seen other women in dresses, but I never see their dresses go up. How is this possible? Is there a special material? Do you have to be born here? Is it just magic? A bubble of some kind??? Tell me please, because between my dress and my hair I’m absolutely stunned, and frustrated that I seem to be the only one with this predicament.
When the bus came, there were several people getting on and off. I had waited a while too, so when I couldn’t find my bus card I began to get even more frustrated. I dug into the bag that I was loathing carrying, and noticed the red little thing on the sidewalk. I hopped back off the bus, and quickly back on to swipe my card. I apologized and went to grab a seat – but there weren’t any. I had to stand on a very crowded bus for 45 minutes down to Wellington. Joy.
I had one goal today: To see the Hobbit again. I had bought the ticket the night before, thinking:
Well, how many times do you get to see this kind of movie in the country it was made?
So, that was all I wanted to do, and it was going to happen. I wandered around. I had about two hours. I thought about doing some research into maneuvering a few things. I’d need some help though, and that meant another walk towards the Civic Center, for probably the sixth or seventh time this week.
I sat in there, at this nice woman’s desk, using her phone for a very long time. She looked up some traveling to the South Island, and maybe a wine trail but most everything was booked through the next week. I felt bad for using her phone for so long, but I really needed to make that call. I wasn’t going to be allowed to come home until it had been made. You’ll all understand next week when I return what that means.
Now, after I parted my friendly visitor center helper, I decided I would just go straight to the theater, and then nothing would be left to get in my way of seeing the movie again. I wasn’t far, it was just a few hops and a jump through the streets. I think I know these like the back of my hand now. I walked back into the fancy palace-like theater. It was empty. I heard some voices upstairs, so I decided to see what was up.
I guess, when it’s not busy, everything’s handled upstairs. Weird, because that means people can just wander in downstairs, doing who knows what, and maybe sneak into movies down there. I didn’t try. Thought about it though…
You can think about it… but doooon’t do it Says my dad. He does it though.. whatever it is, he usually does it. Rule-breaker that man.
I found a seat in the back, in one of the comfy chairs (wink), and ended up finishing my book by 2. The show was at 2:30, but they’d let people in at 2:15. Around the middle of my reading session, I’d walked over to get an actual hot chocolate. It’s my thing now. I chose to hit the restroom before the movie to take up some of that time in between, and so I wouldn’t have to get up during.
Seriously, it was a very nice bathroom. It had floor to ceiling carved wooden doors to each stall. Well tiled flooring, and mirrors which made just constantly expect some creepy dude to appear after I said the words “Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall..who’s the shortest of them all??”
There were more kids this time. I guess with summer, and all, parents are trying to distract their kids. They’re also giving them too much because they kept having to run and pee during the movie. Thankfully I’d seen it already so it wasn’t too disrupting. I was sitting in my same seat, still no one next to me. This time though, one women in front of me. I think she must have been taking a break from shopping since she had several bags, one with wrapping paper in it.
As I watched the movie, I kept thinking about WETA, and how much I miss movies where more than half WASN’T digitally created. I realize it’s art, and it’s almost what I do, but I miss the old days when the silicone harpies ran around the clouds. So sad. I think I heard that about 14% or less of the first “Hobbit” movie was actually real people.
The movie was done about 5. I thought it would be nice to eat out by the waterfront – but apparently so did everyone and his mother. When I had made my way over there ( through no help from wind of course), I found that not even a hobbit could have stood to even drink a pint (it comes in pints??).
I went through four or five different bars and restaurants, one right after the other. Groups to the left of me…groups the right of me. Small groups, big groups, no kids though. All adults, either eating, drinking, or neither – just taking up space on the dock. After I ended back up at the Portofino, I decided it was a lost cause, and turned back around towards a street. I saw the museum of city & sea, but it was closed. I’ll have to hit that one on my way back. I think it was set up in an old harbor board room building. It was definitely old, made of brick, and classy-looking.
I tried to find another restaurant on the passing streets, but I wasn’t in the mood for Chinese. My back hurt immensely, and my migraine was returning again. At this point, I just wanted to go sleep. My quiet, nice evening wasn’t turning out so hot, and finally I found a grocery store. I ran in and grabbed some veggies and things to keep me over for a few days in case I had another unsuccessful day.
Then I sat. And sat. I think I waited another hour for a bus. I’m really getting tired of having to make plans around what time the bus might show up – and next week will be worse due to the holiday schedules.
“Need your receipt?” Asked the grocery cashier with an attitude.
“Nah, it’s fine.” I smiled and waved thank you to girl. Attitudes be damned, I just wanted to get to bed.
