Hot Chocolate at Scopa

Tonight I am indulging in a sinful treat, as the Catholics amongst us who believe in sin would doubtless say, but for me it is a well earned warm beverage the like of which is unique in Cuba Street I am quite sure. The steaming cup is full of shiny dark milk chocolate, so thick it has to be spooned, and that is what I do. Its taste is not too sweet, nor is it too bitter, it is just right. Caffe Scopa is famous for it apparently, and now this is my second time sipping its delights, and certainly not my last. It may even become my Tuesday ritual before I go to Ti Whanawhana which is just up around the corner. A nice way to prepare myself for the fun of trying to keep up my Maori.  

After last night's debacle with my Te Reo course, I nearly decided, seriously, to give up on trying to learn to speak this crazy, difficult language. But I would feel as though I have failed the teachers, as they are SO nice, but they really have no idea how to teach a language, let alone their own, which is just anyone's guess. Perhaps I'll just coast along and see what happens. I would say ten students already have dropped out, but they were prepared for that. Another assessment next week, ugh!

This morning was an interesting one at home, tea with freshly baked orange cake for a new visitor, S. It turned out to be such a beautiful day that for the very first time I entertained a guest on the balcony in the warm sun which made the water shimmer on Evans Bay. It was quite spectacular and a good place for an in-depth chat, which believe me, needed the space of the outside. S is a very nice guy, a returned Kiwi  like so many, after an long and fruitful stint in the UK, back with a lot of mixed results but positive feelings about his return home. He left at 19 and returned at 38, spending half his life, effectively all his adult years to date, in the vibrant setting of artistic London, where he completed a Master's degree in Fine Arts. He is now working in a good position in a top Wellington Art Gallery. But what about the high life he left in London -  how does he readjust to the much quieter life of Wellington which is a village compared with London? That was the question we discussed, amongst many other things. As well he has returned to live with his ageing Mum, in of all places, Hutt. 

For those of you who don't know about Hutt, there is a certain onomatopoeic resonance which will give you an idea of its rather less than exciting nature. But of course, it is home, and that's where you go to lick your wounds, in this case, quite severe ones it seems. However living in what I consider to be the 'healthiest city in the world', I am sure he will come back to his full potential, and even achieve more that he ever dreamed he could have in the big UK. I look forward to watching his progress.

Waiter on fast return to get my steaming chocolate...

which arrives in a flash...

As fast as these cars going up Ghuznee Street