This morning I had to get up unreasonably early to check in for my ferry across the Cook Strait from Picton on the South Island to Wellington on the North Island. I had booked a crossing at 09.30 but the ferry company brought this forward to 07.30 and also required that I turn up at least sixty minutes before to check in, so I had to sit for an hour in the dark in a queue of cars waiting to board. The ferry was not full and after boarding I had lots of space to sit and relax in front of a large (and – shame on Interislander Ferries – also dirty) viewing window in the passenger lounge. We set sail just as the sun began to rise and I went out on deck to get some last views of Queen Charlotte Sound.
After three and half hours of sailing we arrived in Wellington, the capital of New Zealand and its third biggest city – albeit with a population of only 212,000 people. My accommodation was in a pretty villa in the scenic and historic Thorndon area of the city.
Right next to my accommodation was a similar house, which hosted a museum devoted to New Zealand writer Katherine Mansfield.
I made a brief visit before strolling into the city centre. My walk took me past the “Beehive” – part of a complex of government buildings which houses the offices of the prime minister and cabinet ministers….
…..and then further on to Wellington’s pleasant waterfront.
There I checked out the Museum of New Zealand or Te Papa Tongarewa, dedicated to the history, wildlife and geology of the country. Amongst many other things, I was surprised to learn that the Maori only discovered New Zealand about 800 years ago, probably on boats from the South Cook Islands further north – and that it was the very last large land mass to be settled by humans. The museum had a large exhibit about a very special part of the country’s history – the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi between the British government and 500 Maori chiefs. It gave the British sovereignty over the islands in return for protection of the rights of the Maori. However the treaty was, perhaps deliberately, poorly translated with big differences between the English and Maori versions, leading to confusion and conflict.
From the museum I followed a traditional tourist route, taking a cable car up to the steep hill dominating the city. The café on top offered an excellent view of Wellington.
From the top of the hill, I strolled down through the city’s pretty botanical gardens and then through the suburb of Thorndon back to my house. Despite the very early start it had been a good day – and after two days of rain it was a pleasure to see the sun again. Wellington had been an interesting stop – one of the smallest capital cities in the world, with a wonderful setting, a world class museum and the laid-back vibe typical of a minor provincial town in most other countries. Plus I had finally taken some good pictures of the Marlborough Sounds!
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