Oriental Bay, Wellington

It’s no secret: I love Wellington. It’s rather unfortunate that I wasn’t able to make it my home while in New Zealand. Christchurch is nice and all (and comes with the uber handy well-paying job!), but Wellington is just everything that I hoped my time in this country would be. It looks completely different than Toronto: I love how all of the houses are white, either perched precariously on the hills or nestled at their bases. I love the harbourfront with its super blue water. It’s cafés and bars are numerous and tasty, the neighbourhoods filled with wood planked houses with character to spare. There’s just something quintessentially New Zealandy about Wellington, I cant seem to get enough, and each time I go have a completely different experience. This weekend’s visit was as a launching ground for a day trip out to the Wairarapa for Toast Martinborough, “New Zealand’s Premier Wine, Food and Music Festival”.

I love that domestic airfare is so cheap in this country, as it makes jaunting around so much more affordable. I flew Air New Zealand (as always! No JetStar for this girl) and while the flight left and arrived on time, and the flight staff were as friendly and nice as always, I have got to say: I hate prop planes. The plane itself was in great condition with comfy leather seats, but man. When you hit those pockets of turbulence, you felt every gust of air.

Take-off from Christchurch was bumpy but not too worrisome, I had a window seat slightly rear of the wing on the island-view side of the plane (as opposed to the ocean-view) so I was able to take a few videos to show you all what I saw. Coming into Wellington, on the other hand, left me so rattled I was actually stressing about the return flight from the minute we landed. Not only were we rattled around, but when the plane banked to turn to the runway I actually experienced what I can only call vertigo. It was like the dizziness I experienced on the whale watching trip back in Kaikoura! I had to focus my eyes directly on the seat table in front of me, as anywhere else I could see the angle of tilt against the horizon outside; it completely did my head in. Landing was a bit miraculous (I may be exaggerating for story’s-sake), I was positive we touched down at an angle to the runway and that we needed to straighten up lest we drive right off the tarmac. I’ve seen videos of awful landings at Wellington, and what I felt is pretty much what I would expect being in one of those flights to have been like. I was shaken, and immediately wondered if I wouldn’t be better off walking back to Christchurch.

Mt Cook Police Barracks with the National War Memorial

Safely on terra firma, I hopped into a shuttle van for a quick trip to the Mt Cook neighbourhood (or suburbs, as they’re called here. I have a hard time calling them that, as to me a “suburb” is a sprawling wasteland like Markham, not a cute hilly inner-city locale). The last time I was in Wellington I took the Airport Flyer into town as I knew precisely where I was going, but not having been to Mt Cook before, I figured paying $15 was a fair price to get me door to door. After the stress of landing, I just wanted to get there already!

“There” was Theresa’s fale (Samoan for house, aka whare in Maori — see how much I am learning?), a super cute 2 bedroom condo in walking distance of downtown. T is a good friend of Donna, one of my dear Auckland pals, who had also come down for the weekend. With my arrival, the Martinborough Trio (as D called it haha) was complete.

Getting to the festival was a bit of an adventure. While we had bought tickets online months ago (thanks to my lightening quick ninja ticket buying skills) we never really did suss out transportation. Knowing there was a regular train to Martinborough, we figured we could bowl on up to the train station at any time and take the next train out. Not so much. It turned out that there was only ONE public train to the Wairarapa on Sunday and we had just missed it — by five minutes. There was, however, a “corporate” train sitting on the tracks that we might be able to sweet talk the officials into letting us board; the ticket seller couldn’t help us. We asked several official looking people on the platform what the deal with getting on that train was, and were told that only people with orange wristbands could board, that it was a sponsored train, the general public couldn’t use it. The train official pointed us towards two fellows in straw hats who were selling wine tokens on the platform, and said to ask them. They said they couldn’t help us either but that if we were to jump on, they wouldn’t say anything and that we could always ask someone while underway.

Determination, they has it.

With me thinking this a Very Bad Idea™, but under the sway of two very determined Pacific Islands women, we hopped (read: snuck) on board and took up seats in a busy car and pretended like we belonged there. I was convinced we would be found out and kicked off the train in some backwater station with no way to get back to civilization. Donna was certain we’d be fine, while T admonished me that “failure was not an option”. Forty-five minutes (and several minor internal panic attacks on my part) later, we pulled into the Featherston station, hopped off the train and picked up our tasting glass and festival guide. Chartered buses (included in our paid ticket price, thank god) were there waiting to carry us to Martinborough and the festival itself.

Shuttlebus shenanigans

The ticket to Toast Martinborough cost us each $60, and while I was disappointed that it didnt include any wine tokens (like how you would get with your Toronto Beer Festival ticket), but it did include a nice souvenir wine tasting glass and unlimited use of the buses between wineries. I absolutely LOVED that the festival wasn’t in one central spot, but that it was actually in the vineyards themselves.

And we're off!

Our first stop was Te Kairanga, one of Donna’s favourite wineries. While I wasn’t crazy about their festival setup (there was no where nice to sit, and the crazy wind, while not their fault, blew dust and gravel everywhere), it turned out that my favourite wine and food of the day was from here: tempura prawns with chipotle aoili dipping sauce, with a crisp 2008 Sauvignon Blanc. TK is also where I saw (at a little past noon!) a rather enthusiastic festival-goer take off with a bale of hay, proclaiming he was going to take it home and feed it to his cat.

Donna and her sensible drinking footwear

Craggy Range was our next stop and my overall favourite winery of the day. Their set up was very relaxed with tents surrounding a vibrant green patch of lawn were people sat enjoying the dubby music and tasty offerings (I had a rather generous glass of the 2008 Reisling from Te Muna Road Vinyard). Thankfully the wind behaved itself while we were here, making our time spent there most enjoyable.

Donna and T at Craggy Range

On a tight schedule (we had to be back at the trainstation by 5pm to catch the ONLY train back to Welly), we shortly moved on to Alana Estate where I ate a rather tasty venison kebab accompanied by a super sweet 2008 L’Aperatif Reisling, while being nearly blown away by the gale force winds. I felt like Dorothy!

I was disappointed with Tirohana Estate, not because of their wine or setup, but because none of their food was under $20, with most of it reaching towards $30 or more. Considering that the other vineyards had a broad price range from between 8-30 francs (1 franc = 1 dollar), we thought this a bit highfalutin’ and headed over to Martinbourough Vinyards where the main food and wine tent had been reduced to fabric and metal earlier in the day by the wind. Thankfully they managed to get things going again, as this turned out to be my second favourite winery of the day. By this point Id stopped taking notes (hehe), but can vividly recall falling in love with the lemon merangue ice cream which I *think* followed a glass of Sauv Blanc.

Martinborough Vineyard. Maybe.

After Martinborough we may have stopped at Margrain Vinyard, where I may or may not have enjoyed a glass of Pinot Gris. I remember that I had a Pinot at some point, and since this was the only place offering it, it must have been here.

D shows off her baggy trou at Palliser Estate

Our last stop was Palliser Estates, the official last stop of the winery tour (and closest to the bus pick up spots!). Unfortunately their kitchen had been shut down by the fire brigade on account of strong winds (the 120km/hr gusts tore the roof of one tent, and knocked it to the ground), but we enjoyed a tasty wine and wandered about watching the show on stage.

No speeding, this is wine country.

Happily, our trip back in to town was uneventful and best of all free to anyone with a Tasting Glass from the festival. I managed to snag a window seat for the trip home, not that it did me any good: I was fast asleep within about ten minutes, wined and sunned into drowsy complacency.

Monday saw me a girl on a mission. Knowing this was likely my last time in town, I wanted to do a last bit of shopping (I never did find the glut of souvenir shops that I know must be there), and more importantly, take in Yayoi Kusama’s “Mirrored Years” exhibit at the polka-dot covered Art Gallery.

The City Art Gallery

Wow.

I wish that I could have taken photos of the exhibits, because they were fantastic. I think my favourite was “Fireflies on Water“, which was a mirrored room filled with multi-coloured LEDs and a water floor. You entered along a marked path and the door is shut behind you, leaving you alone in this astonishingly simple yet magic place. HEART. I also loved the “Moment of Regeneration“: giant red tentacles emerging from the floor, painstakingly covered in the artist’s signature polka dots.

In one of the rooms, a documentary played on a loop about her life. It was thrilling to wander into a room in a completely different area of the gallery to see the very paintings Id just watched her create while explaining her thoughts and wishes for the pieces.

When I first learned of the exhibit a few months ago, I knew right away that I wanted to see it. I had no idea who Yayoi Kasama was, or how she had influenced modern art or to what extent. In fact, I pretty much know NOTHING at all about art, so I just assumed she was just a quirky Japanese artist that happened to be on display in New Zealand. Now, after seeing her work, I feel kind of privileged at having been able to experience it. So many of the larger-than-life music festival art installations that I love so much have direct roots to Kasama’s work! If you have the opportunity to see this exhibit for yourself, GO. It’s $15 more than well spent.

With my time in the windy city winding down, Donna, T and I headed off to Fidel’s on Cuba Street for dinner and yes, more wine. I really liked Fidel’s, and wish I’d gone there on earlier trips. Its decor is all 50’s era Cuban Revolution, with corrugated tin walls and chill music. It reminded me of Squirrelly’s in Toronto quite a bit! After dinner, I hopped on the Airport Flyer ($8 from the CBD to the airport) with half an hour to spare before my flight.

THANK GOD the flight home was calm and not bumpy at all. The landing in Christchurch was a little harder than I would have liked (again we came in fast and hard, perhaps this is always the way with the Bombardiers?), but there was none of the drama from the Wellington landing. I’ve since figured out how to find out which flight is what type of plane on Air New Zealand’s website, and from now on will be taking jets wherever possible. Being heavier they just dont seem to be as affected by turbulence (but by no means immune), which means I’m a happier traveller. It sucks when your passion scares the crap out of you!

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