Lonely Planet recently scored an epic fail - claiming that Wellington is the world's coolest capital city.
Are they on crack?
We have, as many know, missed out on the marvel that people feel of living in or visiting Wellington. Still, we were willing to give the place the benefit of the doubt by having a "townie" mini-break. So last weekend we booked a night in the Intercontinental and dinner and tickets to a movie the following day.
Saturday dawned. Check-in was 3pm so we made our way leisurely into town for about 1.30pm to do some shopping. Typical Wellington weather - grey, cold, windy and miserable. We went to Cuba Mall for a wander. The shops looked like they had been designed to suit hung-over op-shoppers. The place reeked of cigarettes. Lambton Quay was tolerable although half the shops were shut.
Coffee seemed the order of the day so we strolled down Courtenay Place. At 2.30pm, many shops still had vomit from the night before plastered down the doors, spilling on to the street. Charming.
The place felt grimy. You didn't want to touch anything due to the risk of contracting multi-organ failure.
How about the waterfront? Cold, grey and empty. The cafes that were supposedly open for dinner were shutting due to a lack of interest at 3.30pm although the tired "market" selling covert weed limped on.
Maybe a drink? The bars were empty at 5pm and lifeless. No one knew how to mix a mojito - it's not that hard people.
What about a drink after dinner? Town was empty apart from a drunken gaggle from a hen's party. There were three pubs that had people in them - all closed for private functions.
The hotel was, sadly, the highlight with a competent barman and chef for brekkie.
Wellington. The slogan should be "2/3 as good as everywhere else".
Or how about - "Absolutely positively hepatitis".
The Rose
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