We spend our last day in Mimi avoiding spending the day in Mimi. Adrian is keen to visit Mt Taranaki, a still active volcano webbed with numerous uphill walks and footed by a visitors’ centre. I, on the other hand, am just as keen to continue writing my murder mystery but with our host next door hoovering and cleaning only feet from the table where I sit, my train of thought is being constantly interrupted. So I come up with the perfect solution: Adrian will drop me in New Plymouth where I can spend the day in the peace of their very pleasant library and then continue on his way to Mt Taranaki where he can indulge his penchant for climbing mountains.
At around three in the afternoon, we meet in the library cafe, both having spent a satisfyingly productive day. I’ve written another chapter, Adrian has walked his socks off in fine weather so we’re both feeling quite pleased with ourselves. Then we drive back to Mimi to spend our last evening before heading south to Wellington. We’re up early next morning, packed and out the door in record time. By now, we’ve both had enough of listening to the conversations and television of our neighbours and are glad to be moving on.
It’s a long drive to Wellington which we break firstly with a stop for coffee. Patea is a one horse town that has clearly lost its horse. Most of the shops in the short high street are closed or boarded up, which probably explains the lack of people. There’s an odd disused building, a large tin shed, with an old facade stuck on its front, like something from the plywood set of an old-fashioned Western. The Backpackers Rest and Retreat hasn’t seen a backpacker for several years and the take-away shop has all but been taken away.
In stark contrast, the Cafe Fika, run by a group of charming enthusiastic women, represents a 1960s retro oasis. We enter to find one of them optimistically decorating a Christmas tree. The coffee is excellent and the counter displays a wonderful array of cakes and slices that has us dithering for several minutes. Buoyed up by caffeine and sugar, we travel on.
Our next stop is Bulls (and you can imagine the advantage business-owners take of that particular name! and yes, ‘load of’ definitely features). We eat a sandwich and carry on, not wanting to delay our journey. We’re getting very bored with the drive and our restricted selection of entertainment on BBC sounds, and are relieved to finally see ahead of us, the range of large hills that preludes entry to Wellington’s outer suburbs.
Our accommodation in Newlands has a wonderful view of Wellington harbour and everything we need for our two night stay. There’s a reserve directly in front of us with a winding hilly path and shops and eateries at ten minutes’ distance. It has everything that Mimi lacked. After a much needed run, we book a table at the 3 Little Birds, one of only two Jamaican restaurants in the whole of New Zealand. The owner, a young enthusiastic American-Jamaican, tells us of his battle to convince the local people that there are more cuisines on earth than Chinese and Indian, but these are two predominant immigrant groups in New Zealand and their restaurants are well established.
On Friday, we have a date with the owners of the house we’ll be sitting for the next seven weeks. Gareth and Tao are off to visit family in Manchester and Thailand. They’re easy, likeable people and the house looks easy to care for and comfortable to live in. We arrive the next day to bid them farewell and begin the process of unpacking and discovering. Later, with the sun shining, we explore the hilly reserve that sits behind the house. We agree that there’s everything we need here and Wellington CBD is only a short train journey away. It isn’t exactly exciting, but for the next seven weeks, we’ll be able to call it home. We’re both rather relieved to be stationary for a while.
