July 18th - The Trouble With Potterheads

I asked my housemate Brendan if he wanted to join my friends and I in going to see Harry Potter on my last night out in the city. He emphatically rejected my invitation on the grounds that he ''is an adult'', which apparently disqualifies him from the movie's demographic. Tell that to the sixty somethings who came dressed in wizard caps to bid farewell to their favorite fictional character. We opted for a touch of class and went to the famous Embassy theatre, home of the priemere of Return of the King where one can enjoy a glass of wine before the show for less than one can enjoy a coke back home. I enjoyed the film, much like I have with the entire series, but while it was nice to see the lovely Hermione finally admit her love for that goblin Ron, it didn't bring me to tears like it did for nearly everyone present. Since I have mere days left before my radical shift back to backpacker mode I have been in the thick of things trying to tie up all the loose ends of which there are many. Finding a replacement for myself in the house has been interesting to say the least. One fellow was supposed to come view the room last night but needed to reschedule because he ''needed to see Harry Potter''. Needless to say this doesn't have Brendan ecstatic to meet the Potter-head but, like I tell Brendan, don't judge a book by it's cover. The merit of all things Potter and their priority over flat viewings aside, I need to find someone for my room, and quick. Most people new to the city arrive convinced that they'll be able to find a place that isn't up a giant hill but how wrong they are. A little known fact is that Wellington has more cafes per capita than New York City, and even less known fact is that Wellington has the greatest calf muscle strength per capita in the world (note: I'm just guessing about that last one, all I'm trying to say is that it's very hilly here). So far we've had people interested in the room, the house, as well as the people living it but above all else are too concerned that they won't be able to bike everywhere. I hate to admit it to them but I think anyone who uses a bike as their sole means of transportation in this city is one of three things; an olympic athlete, extraordinarly cheap because they won't get a bus pass, or just downright crazy (or all three). I may have to start sweetening the deal by throwing in my bed for a reduced rate or by lying about certain aspects of the house like saying that Brendan is a chef in a Michelin star restaurant who regularly brings home leftovers or that Elspeth is Peter Jackson's cousin and he comes round from time to time and crashes in our ''hobbit room''. Supposing the situation remedies itself, rather than delay the inevitable I may go to Auckland a day or two sooner than planned and go poke around. In addition, I need to consider a unique way to get back to the Motherland after this final adventure with Jaclyn is complete. It's already $500 cheaper to get home via Los Angeles than it is to go through Vancouver but do I make a pit stop in Australia before then? It would be a shame to come all this way not to see at least one dingo eat a baby since I am no longer heading to Melbourne for the Wild Beasts concert. I'd settle for an extended layover in Sydney where I'd require just enough time to snap a generic peace sign photo with the Opera house, chug a Foster's, play knifey-spooney, say g'day to a mate, box a kangaroo and/or a koala, and examine which way the water turns when a toilet is flushed. That's not too much to ask right? The next time I post to this blog ought to be when I'm back to backpacker mode and can stop being self conscious and embrace my limited wardrobe and my constant bearded-ness. I shall do what I did the first time around and update my current city as well as my profile picture to instantly relate my whereabouts and the craziness I'm getting myself into.