The Gala Opening is tomorrow night, by which time Steven and I plan to be worn out from a cable car trip, a Botanic Gardens walk and a choof around the harbour on a ferry. A bit of gala-ing around should top the day off nicely.
It was sunny and fresh today and not as windy as Wellington is famous for. We wandered into town and had a beer on a breezy balcony at the Establishment, then a rooly-good South Indian dinner in Cuba Street. The average age of Wellingtonians appears to be about 23, would that be right? And all very fine-looking people? (I think I must be wearing my holiday eyes.)
The Festival and Unity Books put a parcel of books in the hotel room: Big Weather: Poems of Wellington, edited by Gregory O’Brian and Louise White; Essential New Zealand Short Stories, selected by Owen Marshall; also an issue of Sport—so they more or less give you a crash course in NZ literature past and present, on arrival. What a good idea, to give you a collection of poems about the city you’re visiting! So much more useful than a Gideon Bible!
So, not a lot to do over the next few days besides play, festivalise and go to gala openings and dinners. Wot luxury!
UPDATED TUESDAY MORNING: The Parade Cafe do a top breakfast—their Infamous Eggs Benedict make a beachside walk compulsory afterwards. Also, they have giant seagulls here. Watch your step.