At the Astoria...waiting to be served, I appear to be at the upper end of Wellington cafe society, although they would never claim to be so, I am quite sure. As there seems to be no table service (!!!) I ask for a menu and then walk to bar to order. For a cafe of this size and stature, (all the pollies come here as it is at their end of town), I am amazed there is no service. But so be it, I live in egalitarian Wellington, the coolest little capital in the world, so they say.
The waiter, (they do take service away), is a typical red haired Kiwi, bearded, and seemingly efficient. The ginger, or carrot top, male in particular, is a special species in New Zealand, warranting a recent two page article in the prestige national magazine, Fish-head. What does this say about this small, but brilliant country? I leave it to you to surmise. But creativity is to the fore in every exercise I see in this strange country. As I am back on my trusty scooter I now have the means to survey greater Wellington, especially the beachside, which I am assured is worth the trip. I wait to be astonished.
This morning, Saturday, I was awakened by C. the carpenter of our working duo, who decides to finish his work today, as he's travelling somewhere next week and won't have the time. There is no warning as he invades my housemate's room to repair the window sash which she had requested. The rain had been pouring into her room during some of our wetter days. Happily my Jewish friend is at her Synagogue, and is not in evidence when C starts sawing his wood next to her bed and making a hell of a mess. I plan to to get the vacuum out before she returns, that is if I get home in time tonight. Again, the 'Wellington Way'.
While waiting for my lukewarm coffee to arrive, which is actually the worst I have had in this benign city, I read the Saturday headlines of the Dominion Post. A conman, regularly in and out of gaol, has just been apprehended after stealing thousands of dollars and credit cards just by walking into Victoria University and pretending to be one of them. This is of course, the downside of a trusting and mostly honest people, they get easily conned. I should know, I've been conned on more than a few occasions. But the poor Kiwis - another man, a multi-millionaire yachtsman with an enormous boating empire, is now penniless in Vancouver Island as his business went bust without him realising it. Again we see a case of Kiwi naïveté. OK, the world's finances change, but it is a good idea to be abreast of the times, something which this Kiwi obviously was not.
But on the brighter side, the best of Kiwi movies has just been voted and it is not 'Lord of the Rings' by Peter Jackson. It is that amazingly violent, yet accurate portrayal of a Maori Auckland family in the eighties. It is called 'Once Were Warriors' after a book by Alan Duff of the same name. It has obvious hit a chord with both Maori and Pakeha as it is a saga of family violence superseding racial barriers, but essentially talking to the Maori problem of self identification and pride as a race in a country which was virtually stolen from them. When I saw it I was totally gutted by its violence, but it was not gratuitous. It was real and unfortunately spot-on. Such is the inherent violence of the Maori male apparently, but it was fuelled by alcohol and drugs which is a very large problem in the north of the north island. Happily, I wish to identify with that part of the Maori nature which is loving, supportive and poetic...I hope.
I am now leaving the famous Astoria Cafe, never to return. I am really am a Cuba Street boy, and am happy to stay that way.
My best place in Wellie, home.
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