We reconnected with Zak and Kim in Picton, and very early the next morning loaded our vans onto the first car ferry of the day headed across to the North Island. The trip across the Cook Strait, which separates New Zealand’s two main islands, took 3 hours, during which we enjoyed a full-on New Zealand (or is it Irish? or English?) breakfast, took in the sights from the ferry’s various vantage points, and took naps in the comfy seats.
Ever diligent, Zak was the first to see all the neat stuff.
The ride passed quickly and smoothly and soon we were passing the twin lighthouses of Pencarrow Head and landing in the city of Wellington.
Wellington is the capital of New Zealand and the Parliament buildings show a mix of history in the architecture.
The oldest ones are framed in Victorian roses and white camelias. A plaque nearby explained that New Zealand, in 1893, was the first country in the world to grant women the right to vote. The camelias were planted by the women of parliament one hundred years later to commemorate those who have contributed to advancing women’s political rights in New Zealand. Goodonya, mates!
We had a lot of driving ahead of us, but we spent a couple of hours strolling around downtown. As you’d expect, we found the city full of well dressed power brokers.
And while the powerful share the responsibilities of the nation, their children learn the downside of owning all the balls…
and wearing shoes.
Wellington is a very busy urban city were even the youngest commute on the hazardous streets.
Lots of young Wellington ladies prefer two wheelers.
The city center is packed with the matronly, the stylish…
and the fresh faced.
They flood the streets during the lunch hour in search of coffee and a bite.
Some of them have sushi, others have problems.
All the while the well dressed Indian taxi drivers keep up a constant stream of hindi kibitzing.
Wellington is a place were the young are painstakingly shielded from the sun,
dogs are walked without leashes,
and cold shady men play the hose-organ.
