WCC 1: Tinkering Around Toytown

Written by Molly McCarthy

When I first moved to Wellington at the start of this year, a friend told me to enjoy living in “toy-town”. New Zealand’s political and commercial centre described as a toy-town? Surely not. But after almost a year spent in a city which everyday feels more like home, I’ve come to understand this description and all its cutesy connotations.
Just as childhood Lego creations were cities of limited boundaries, each separated by an impassable space of carpet between the construction boards, one certainly does feel a sense of isolation in the capital city. A heavy gale or a bout of fog for example, and no plane will leave Wellington airport. Planes already in transit are left to circle aimlessly above the tarmac, unable to land. Unlike Auckland airport, which is a portal to almost any international destination, the Wellington international lounge periodically closes its doors – the gates, which are located in the same building as the domestic terminal, are only open from
4.30-7.30am and 1.30-6.30pm daily.
The public transport in Wellington is also highly reminiscent of something that would be found in a Noddy book. The iconic Cable Car has been an integral part of Wellington since 1902, when the identical cars began taking passengers up and down the hill via a confusing cable mechanism. So confusing, in fact, that one of the drivers once confessed to us that no one really knows how it works – the manual consists of two books; one with the original specifications and another, of a similar size, that lists all the changes to these specifications. Conveniently, the Cable Car stops just outside where I live this year. Not so conveniently, one soon realises that it is in fact faster to walk up and down the hill rather than take the Cable Car and pay a dollar for the service.
In many ways, Wellington, carved up like a Christmas roast by its multitude of alleyways and lanes, reminds me a lot of my favourite city, Melbourne. Perhaps I was some description of burrowing animal in a former life – I’ve always seemed to enjoy cities with hidden treasures hiding down narrow alleyways. If the weather is sunny - which, surprisingly, it often is - one can wear a summer dress (albeit with stockings, a scarf and a warm coat), take a random combination of garden framed paths and cobbled passageways and truly believe that they might need a giant ball of wool or a trail of breadcrumbs to find the way back home.
Unlike Auckland, where one is required to take a confusing combination of public transport services to get anywhere outside the CBD, I’ve found that the concept of being able to get from A to B on foot is one of my favourite features of Wellington. 
This year I’m living in a student hostel. Upon moving to Wellington, I figured that hostel life, which is a lot like home but with one hundred times as many people, would make for an easier transition – my meals are still cooked for me and the hall has a resident pet dog. Although far from the couch-burning culture of Otago, Victoria University has provided me with ample experiences of student life. I’ve discovered, for example, that one can acquire free food by complaining about minor packaging errors and that a cask of cheap wine, generally avoided by most, doesn’t really taste so bad when mixed with a can of sprite from our vending machine.
Aside from learning how to survive on a small budget however, the city has exposed me to a range of happenings of both the diurnal and nocturnal variety. Wellington is, after all, a veritable Mecca for any self-respecting fan of arts or live music. Whether it is on the wall of a cafe, on the sidewalks of Cuba St or as a part of the many festivals and events that Wellington hosts, culture seems to seep from every nook and cranny of this fine city. A five dollar note is generally all one needs to experience some of Wellington’s superb live music at the Mighty Mighty on Cuba St. From Germany’s bear-costumed Bonaparte to an aged rockabilly band which I never caught the name of, the Mighty2, as we now call it, is always guaranteed to provide a highly enjoyable, if not slightly kooky, night out.
So, where to from here? Well, apart from completing a five-year degree, which will inevitably become extended given my overwhelming attraction to random interest papers, I plan to record my time in Wellington and my experiences of all its hidden treasures in this here column. Art shows held in alleyways, paintings in passages and gigs played in grottos – whatever it is, I’ll hunt it out.
I call it the Windy City Chronicles.
Enjoy.

When Molly McCarthy found out that her names meant "bitter" and "loving", she was quite excited. "A bit like Bittersweet Chocolate - my favourite flavour!", she thought. In 2009 this bittersweet being is studying law, politics and French at Victoria University. In her spare time Molly writes for both MOPRH and Vic Uni's Salient magazine, as well as dabbling in a bit of this that and the other.