Co-ed roomies

Day 3

My new roomie is Peter a young fellow from Florida. I take him on a walk to find a jacket, seems to be a common need this time of year for those of us from away. A cold breeze confronts us as we turn and walk up Cuba St. My stomach reminds me that breakfast should be a priority and we stop at a funky little cafe called Fidels. Yes that's right I went to Fidels Cafe on Cuba St!

After a huge breakfast that almost consumed my entire budget for the day we part company and Pete heads off to the Museum and the scenic Wellie Waterfront. I continue to wander and spot a poster promoting a Greenpeace fundraiser for the Sea Shepperd later that evening. When I get back to the dorm there is yet another suitcase and back pack so we have another roomie. When Pete gets back he informs me that Jenn from South Carolina has joined us. I am gobsmacked, the co-ed part of dorm living never really registered. This promises to be very interesting, oh well I will deal with that all in it's own time.

Mike at the front desk tells me I have to cruise Courtenay St. later that night as Saturday is party night and is quite a spectacle to watch. He also helps me figure out how to make a phone call and I get in touch with "the tango queen". Jane is "mad about tango" and has invited me to join her tomorrow to watch one of the worlds most complex and intense dances. We meet at Cafe Italiano and make the arrangements for the next day. I wonder once again about the new roomie but she is not there when I make it back to the dorm. I grab a quick bite and worry about my finances I am seriously over my daily budget it is time to start cutting back.

After a rest I head out and make my way to the Sea Shepperd fund raiser. It is an eclectic mix of characters and personalities. I meet Captain Peter, he regales me with tales of the S.S. being rammed by a Japanese whaling ship and sunk several times by mercenaries. He is a gregarious chap with a huge smile and bald pate the ceiling lights glisten off the top of his head as he swills back a beer and motions to another crew mate to join the conversation. I finish my beer, the budget only allows for one, Peter is snagged for a photo and autograph, as I don't know a soul in the place I make my exit. I walk the waterfront and marvel at Kiwi ingenuity, how they have taken an industrial dockside wasteland and turned it into an architectural design masterpiece. The Museum sits on the wharf area, a site that used to home to an old hotel which they put on rails and moved across the street. According to Deano, my film tour guide, almost all of the buildings in Wellie are on pads to absorb shocks from earthquakes. It seems that the entire country sits on three major fault lines.

It is the witching hour and time to saunter up to Courtenay Place. I am not disappointed, the sidewalks are jammed at 1 a.m. with young over dressed revellers who are very very drunk. They merrily fling their arms around passers by wishing all the best. I wonder what they will be feeling like in the morning, yes I do remember those days of misspent youth. Ironically there are no fights and everyone seems to be very happy. Around another corner I can hear screams. Curious I hurry down the street to find a caged four person metal jail bobbing up and down for at least five or six stories on huge rubber bands. The Bungee ride takes inebriated patrons up and down like a huge yo-yo for several minutes.

I am jostled to the side as more revellers strut past in mini-mini skirts, jackets and ties I have never seen so many overdressed young people in my life it is amusing to watch. Around 1am I wander back to the dorm. I stealthily slide into bed wondering who is on the top bunk. A head pops up obviously Jenn, I apologise and we all drift off dreaming of our own NZ. The morning is going to be very interesting, a co-ed dorm who would have thought.