WCC 8: In the Thick of it

Written by Molly McCarthy

When the New Zealand Company eyed up Wellington as its first organised settlement, they lacked vital foresight as to how large and populous the city would quickly become. Surrounded by hills and sea, the new city had little room to grow; the already crowded settlement had to accommodate up to 1000 new settlers a year between 1881 and 1885. That is why today Wellington encompasses not only Wellington City, but also Porirua and Hutt Valley, ably containing its population of 386,000.

These cramped beginnings left the city with an extremely compact CBD; spanning a small area, it is easily negotiated by Wellington’s distinctly pedestrian inhabitants. While most cities generally keep their various features geographically distinct from one another, Wellington separates them across just three main streets, each located close to the others. In town on business or for classy shopping? You’ll find all you need on Lambton Quay. Fancy a night on the town or an evening at the movies? Courtenay Place is where you’re headed. Looking for alternative music/clothing/food/reality? Look no further than Cuba Street. But despite how different these three areas are, there is little distance among them. A brisk ten minute walk from Parliament can find you at the infamous Big Kumara student bar. Anything you’ll ever want or need is a short trip away. Everything happens within just a few square kilometres.

This extreme concentration of activity makes Wellington feel alive, pulsing, constantly ready to be the site of an exciting adventure. Because as well as being home to numerous bars, clubs, theatres, galleries, restaurants and cafes (the virtues of which I have discussed in earlier columns), there is something more to the city than just the quality of its venues. Wellington’s geographical proximity, combined with New Zealand’s inherent two-degrees social proximity, makes the city a place of endless possibilities.

Possibility, opportunity, adventure – these things have always appealed to me. The appeal of Wellington, for me, is that these possibilities, these opportunities for adventure, are around every corner, behind every door, and down every alleyway. The lives of Sex and the City’s Carrie Bradshaw or the Friends bunch always thrilled me when I was younger. These characters were totally immersed in the heart of the city, in on the action, possibility, opportunity, adventure. They were in the thick of it.

As 13-year-olds in Auckland, we often made after-school trips to the home of a friend who lived with her mother in a ritzy apartment in the centre of town. Hurrying past the doorman we’d ride the gilt and mirrored lift to the ninth floor which our friend shared with a number of residents, including TOUCHES-R-US – a high-class prostitute, we were told to much delight. My friend’s apartment looked right over the busy Customs St; one of our pastimes was throwing rice crackers over the balcony in the hope that they would reach our unsuspecting targets. Heavier, more accurate objects were forbidden.

But my favourite thing about these trips was not jettisoning foreign objects or laughing at the professions of the neighbours, but pretending I lived there. Even at 13, when I had little business in the CBD, the prospect of being just a hop, skip and a jump away from the centre of town was extremely enticing. I wanted to be part of the action, to hear the sirens rushing past in the night. And at 19, with a crummy apartment at the end of Cuba Street, my dreams have been realised. Last week I watched old episodes of Sex and the City and ate takeaway curry with my flatmate, feeling just a little Carrie Bradshaw with my central-city apartment lifestyle (minus the designer footwear, natch).

The benefits of urban living are numerous; in my first week I was treated to the dulcet tones of two glue sniffers arguing in the street below. I now know, intimately, the routines and behaviours of workers at the fruit-packing company across the road; last month we witnessed the tail end of a ‘drag train’, which consisted of 40 or so boy racers doing a collective drag through the city, amidst much tooting and revving. The city lights and city sounds might not always have the same hold on me as they do now. One day, I imagine, I’ll yearn for bird-song, rather than drunken yodelling; I may want to replace my window garden for the fuller-bodied variety. But for now at least, Wellington is my ideal habitat. I’m in the thick of it.

Photos by Rachel Brandon