Where you going cuzzy!

12:30 Aro Bakery. I am meeting up with Ada for a last brunch in Wellington. Laina and Phil said good bye to me in the morning and in all peace I was able to pack my bags for a next episode in New Zealand. The last week in the “coolest little capital in the world” only contained happy moments with the absolute crown jewel of happy moments on Wednesday.

A few weeks ago Ada had been sharp enough to keep an eye on the opening of the ticket sales for the Hobbit premiere, the last movie in the Tolkien series. Here in New Zealand, where everything got filmed and in Wellington, in the Embassy theatre where previously the world premieres had been for the Lord of the Ring trilogy, we were watching it at 12:01 on Thursday morning. Among with a few dressed up Hobbits and other creatures from the story we were there!
Then the next, and last, evening in Wellington I had prepared a 2014 related quiz night for the TREK Global Hostel. Although I was working more at the Dwellington Hostel, during my 6 months in Wellington I had been organising a quiz night at the TREK every second Thursday. All the regulars had turned up and with a hand full of lovely friends we hit the “buzzing” nightlife of Wellington for one last time and to our own surprise got home at 4AM. The result of that evening were felt during brunch, but the bacon sandwich was even more appreciated now. Wellington was a great city and I wouldn’t be able to tell you too many dominant negative factors. The city’s unofficial slogan does say a lot though: “Wellington is such a great city when the weather is nice”. Having that slogan in mind I stand in front of the junction of Willis and Abel Tasman, right where the highway starts, smile about the rain and stick up my thumb.
Tonight’s destination: unknown. When people asked me this week what my next stop was I would say I was going North. That is all I knew and all I wanted to know. It doesn’t take long until Sam a musician from Upper Hutt pulls over in his tiny Hyundai Atoz and takes me to Paramata. Getting out of a city is always the toughest part in hitchhiking and getting a ride within 20 minutes was really nice. Less than 5 minutes after that Ian pulls over. “Ah Cuz, where you going?” “Anywhere up North mate, to the better weather”. “Ah yeah, I can get as far as Pram cuz!” Ian is a

carpenter from Paraparaumu, a suburb of Wellington. The locals rather tend to call it Pram(!) to make it easier. Former stoner Ian is a character, 21 years old, engaged and has a daughter of 2 years old. It becomes quite clear that the guy has a great heart, but that he might be difficult to understand for people that have just arrived in New Zealand. He tells me he picked up three German girls the other day, but that they just sat in his van and didn’t say anything at all. I think the poor girls just had no idea what he was saying… Poor Ian.
Catching rides doesn’t seem to be too much of a problem today,=. Adam was driving to Whanganui. Maybe Whanganui is nice to see, but in my mind I wanted to go to either Tongariro to do the

crossing, Taupo and otherwise even Mount Taranaki. Therefore I ask him to drop me of in Sanson where all these three options are still open and I decide I will only get in to a car that is going to one of these three destinations. After 2 minutes a middle aged Rastafari asks me if I want to go to Whanganui and I refuse. The first I approach after that is John and he is driving to New Plymouth near Mount Taranaki. My route is set! John and his mate are in their sixties and are on the way back after having just visited their buddy in the hospital in Palmerston North who is diagnosed with terminal cancer. Rough one, but they haven’t seen eachother in some time and they have lots to talk about among the two of them. During the old time stories I take the opportunity to take a small nap on the back seat and wake up by the sight of the snowy peak of Mount Taranaki. The guys drop me off in Stratford as it is easier to tramp the ranges of the mountain from here than from New Plymouth and as soon as we enter town there is a sign for a hostel. From the main road a big almost barn like building is visible and I fear that this will be the hostel or that it will fall to the ground before I reach it. When I reach the building it turns out to the hostel indeed and that it is actually still standing! 7 people stay in a place that could easily host around 50 to 100 people. After a brief introduction talk from the receptionist I make my way into town for a supermarket and I notice that the hostel is not the only facility that is barely standing up. Friday night in Stratford and the town is deserted. The New World super market has already closed, you would say that a hostel receptionist would know this in such a small town, and the corner store is about to close when I sneak in for a can of soup and some water. The only places that seem to attract people are the gambling halls and almost every other building will have a few one armed bandits. Probably most depressing would be the Christmas music that echoes over the empty main road: “Daddy, this Christmas please don’t be drunk. I don’t wanna see mummy cry…”
When I come back to the hostel the late orange light shines of the sun on the side of the mountain and she, locals call her she, is gorgeous. If the weather allows it I will walk on your ranges tomorrow and otherwise I will enter the Forgotten World Highway!