WCC: These are a few of my favourite things

Written by Molly McCarthy

I discover something new about Melbourne every year I visit,  and despite my twelve years’ experience of the city,  I find a new favourite shop, gallery, park or café that I’d somehow missed before. Last year it was the old-style photo booths, the year before a 1950s-themed diner, and the year before that the community gardens at St. Kilda.

Discovering one of these gems at the tail-end of a once-yearly visit is fairly frustrating. How much more have I’ve missed out on?  And I know that it will be another year before I can revisit these favourites. Once these treasured places  are discovered, I try to maintain a haphazard list; a mental map of sorts. In this way I hope to keep alive my Melbourne – a city filled with my memories, beloveds and charms.

For what is it that really makes a city? In recent columns I have delighted in Wellington’s fine dining choices, gushed over its geography and celebrated its climate. These are certainly contributing factors to our experiences of and the ease with which we can integrate ourselves into a city. However, despite the many charms a place may possess, its true value lies in the memories we fill it with.

When I was last in Auckland I spent a great deal of time revisiting old haunts. Driving through my home suburb I identified my local library where I used to borrow thirteen books a week; the street where my best friend from primary school lived; the park where I once had a spectacular bike accident, complete with gnarly grazes and bruises. It seemed every second building or street held some special significance. Unlike the heady entries from my childhood diaries, these memories came clearly and quickly; free from the clutter of awkward language, messy handwriting or self-promoting accounts of my exploits.

Recently a friend of mine launched a design project to create an emotional map of Wellington. By collecting other people’s impressions of the city – from the favoured and the beautiful to the detested and the unsafe – he hoped to recreate these emotions in topographical form. Speaking to him a month or so after commencing the project he seemed overwhelmed by the task, inundated with his friends’ colourful interpretations of the city.

Producing a visually coherent ‘product’ from multiple experiences may prove an impossible task but this idea got me thinking - what would my very own emotional map of Wellington look like?  I decided to compare my experiences with those of others. Did they too delight in Kirkcaldie and Stains’ extravagant fake flower display, admire the sprawling grounds of Parliament or find a strange comfort in the scummy foyer of my seedy apartment block? I doubted it.

A quick poll via Facebook revealed a huge variation in the places my friends hold dear – and their reasons why. For some, the temptation of boutique beer or gelato inspired choices; for others it was the memories of lazy summers or a wild night of dancing that led to their decision. One friend chose her flat, simply because it seemed to be at the very centre of everything she could ever want or need – fish and chips, kebabs, a pub, bottle store and two supermarkets. In her eyes, a small student flat located above a takeaway joint is transformed into a homely haven.

When I happen upon new special places in Wellington I am sometimes filled with the same frustration I experience in Melbourne. I wonder how much more I am missing out on, lament the fact that it took me so long to discover in the first place. This month’s discovery was Circa Theatre where I saw my favourite book, The Great Gatsby, played out brilliantly on stage. But unlike Melbourne, where I am afforded the city only in week-long instalments, I’ll be kicking around Wellington for another four years at least. I can fill this city with my own memories, experiences and sentiments, one favourite place at a time. And for that, I’ve got all the time in the world.