June 8th: Wellington is Swell-ington

So far the stereotypes about Wellington have only been partly true. Luckily for me, it has been the positive ones that have manifested themselves. The city is known for a few things in particular; coffee, the arts, and wind. Each of my days so far has indeed been filled with these things, often at the same time. Bearing in mind that I am still an unemployed bum, the lifestyle I’m experiencing is one I could easily see myself becoming accustomed to. The hostel has so many people with guitars that I’m confronted with porch front jams at every turn. When the wind picks up to drown out our sound I stroll into town for a delicious flat white, maybe drop off a CV or two. Things seem to be falling into place to the point that it feels scripted. I met up with a guy who placed an ad online for band mates and, oddly enough, his middle name is Peter (like me) and his last name is Jackson (like the celebrity). What are the odds? I offended my new friend by stating that he even somewhat resembled the fabled director, though I didn’t mean in body proportions, only in facial hair. We moved past this faux pas and bonded over our mutual music snobbery and have been navigating our way through our pretentiousness on the path towards rock stardom ever since. After seven weeks I’d understandably become sick and tired of sleeping in a new bed nearly every night so the inevitable quest for a flat began. I made the requisite calls and was able to secure three viewings on only my second night in the city. I was made quite uncomfortable upon discovering that the first flat, which had the advantage of being only 20 steps away, was inhabited by an emotionless zombie who made no attempt at being personable. It felt like I was in an interrogation with a high ranking Gestapo. I didn’t even leave my number. The 2nd and 3rd flats were the polar opposite; both parties were, in true kiwi fashion, as friendly as could be. Both essentially offered me their rooms on the spot and I was truly torn when it came to decision time. In the end I chose option 2 because it offered slightly more privacy, a slightly bigger place, and a roommate who brews his own beer! I found out afterwards that this roommate and I share the same birthday. Was it meant to be? Only time will tell. In the meantime I think I will teach him a thing or two on guitar in exchange for some of that homemade brew. Flash forward in time and I’m now in my new place. This first day has been bliss; I’d forgotten what it felt like to have an area all to my own. It was sublime to just lay in solitude, grooving to my tunes in peace, knowing that I’m finally where I want to be with enough freedom that the possibilities seem endless. This afternoon I worked up a sweat getting my bearings around Northland, wrote an interesting harmonic-heavy guitar riff, and capped off the evening with a huge plate of bangers ‘n’ mash. As soon as I land a job I’m going to go purchase a van with which to help me with my plan to work through my book of 52 tramps in New Zealand. I also mustn’t forget that we’re entering winter over here, which means…skiing! My Canadian-ness shines through regardless of where I find myself and who am I to deny it? So there you have it, I’ve got some plans and I’ve almost got the means to execute them. The crazy stories are sure to follow suit. I’ve been invited to a house party on Saturday where my musical skills have been requested, it should be a solid opportunity as any to churn out some more juicy details which I am more than willing to continue to relate.