Time Travel and Sarcasm
Jet lag makes you weird, but international date lines make you philosophical. That was my big takeaway as I said goodbye to the airline crew, gathered my one suitcase (yes, just one), and met my host for the next 16 days.
Wellington didn’t feel like I’d landed in another country. It felt like I’d landed in a dream version of California—think Morro Bay meets San Francisco but slower, greener, and kinder. Everyone from the plane offered to help me with my bag. That never happens in L.A. Naturally, I refused. Stubbornness is part of my brand.
The Airport Vibe Check
Every airport has a personality. I judge them all. Wellington’s? Clean, calm, shockingly easy to navigate. Auckland, on the other hand, was like being dropped into a maze designed by someone who hates people with short legs. The “green line” between international and domestic terminals felt like a prank. A twelve-minute outdoor walk later (ten if you’re tall and athletic, which I am not), I made it to my gate—confused, sweaty, and validated by seeing other travelers just as lost.
Back in Wellington, I wandered casually past the massive Gollum and eagle sculptures—yes, still not over how New Zealand leans hard into the Middle-earth branding—before spotting a bearded man holding a sign with my name. A first for me. Felt very “celebrity arriving at rehab.”
My Host: Gandalf’s Chill Cousin
“Hi there! I think you’re looking for me,” I said, smiling (rare, but it happens).
“Is that all you have?” Andrew asked, motioning to my suitcase.
“Yep. I travel light.”
He looked both impressed and slightly suspicious. We walked past the taxis, down a long yellow line, through a parking lot, and into a car that was dusty, white, and charmingly old. It felt like a retirement gift to someone who once loved cars but now prefers gardening.
I hopped into the left side of the car and did not immediately scream—progress! It felt weird, but not wrong. Almost… natural?
Left Turns and Bird Facts
As we zig-zagged through the hills, Andrew made conversation that was half sightseeing tour, half accent decoding challenge. I caught about 75% of it. Maybe 60%.
He was a retired software tech, had four kids, and apparently a grandson showing up tomorrow to help with either firewood or engine repair. TBD.
I learned two important things:
- New Zealand has no native land mammals—just birds. No snakes either. (Mom would be thrilled.)
- London engineers once tried to impose a grid on New Zealand roads. The terrain said no.
The drive reminded me of Laurel Canyon back home—narrow, winding, with a surprise view around every turn. Eventually, we pulled into a lookout point swarming with tourists.
The View from the Top
Several flights of stairs later, we reached the top and saw it: Wellington, from above. A small city that somehow felt vast. Land met water in quiet curves, and everything pulsed with that green, alive kind of energy you don’t get in L.A.
And, because I am an agent of chaos, I had left my camera behind.
Andrew pointed out a cricket stadium, mentioned the Te Papa museum across the bay, and casually dropped that it was next door to the theater playing The Hobbit. Say less—I already knew where I was going tomorrow.
Grocery Store Confusion and the Cantaloupe Crisis
After our scenic detour, we hit a Costco-but-not Costco. A grocery store where nothing made sense. The self-checkout machine asked for a code I didn’t have—and didn’t need. Brands I’d never seen before stared back at me with judgment. Andrew helped, because I was clearly in a mild panic spiral over cheese.
It looks and smells like a cantaloupe… I hope it's a cantaloupe.
I bought it. We’ll find out later if it was a melon or an identity crisis.
Home Base: Stream, Wind, and Firewood
We pulled off the main road and started the climb. A gravel road took us up, past trees and streams, to a cozy home tucked into the hills. Birds were everywhere. Wind tangled with the trees. I barely registered what Andrew was saying—it felt like stepping into someone’s fairy tale.
A humble carport stood beside a bigger structure full of firewood. Lois, Andrew’s wife, came out to greet us with soft “ya… mhm… ya” responses and the comforting energy of a retired librarian.
She gave me a tour of my temporary Hobbit hole: a queen bed with red and black accents, tile floors, a tiny kitchen, and a bathroom with a heated towel rack (someone get me one of those immediately).
Then, horror struck.
Raven, You Idiot - The Adapter Incident
My iPad was fully charged but might as well have been made of stone. The irony? I knew I was going to forget something—and of course it had to be that.
Settling In
Lois and Andrew made small talk, offered to drive me places, and asked what I’d do next.
“I think I’ll take a nap,” I said, clapping my hands like I always do when I’m a little too excited. “I haven’t slept much—I’ve been too excited.”
And with that, I turned toward my little basement in the trees, heart full, brain fried, and determined to remember this feeling. The quiet, the green, the calm.
Tomorrow: museums, hobbits, and probably more cheese confusion.
What I Learned (So You Don’t Panic at the Rock Melon)
- If you think you’ll forget your adapter, you will.
- Groceries in foreign countries are 70% puzzle, 30% panic.
- Bring the camera everywhere. Always.
- New Zealand roads were not made for logic. Accept it.
- If someone offers to show you the view, say yes. Then say it again.
Subscribe to the Chaos