I was met for the stroll to the Wellington train by Isabella Cawthorn. We did the downhill walk in record time likely giving Bella considerable blisters as she was elegantly doing the high-heels and Kona bike combo.
I think that Tjabo/Sarah and Bella/Glen would really get along. She is a bike-use advocate and he is a super-cool coffeeshop proprietor. Neat folk, these Wellingtoners are.
Off the train, we headed right over to Glen’s coffee bar in the CBD called “Green Land”. A fine coffee#1 and a cheese scone were enjoyed and then Bella walked me back to the pickup for my first destination of the day: Weta Workshop.
I jumped aboard a tour bus and was informed by tour guide Jackson about all the sights to see en route to the suburb of Miramar & the home of WW.
An American from NYC named Mike was the guide at Weta Workshops. He steered us to a 25 minute introduction to the original creators of Weta. Peter Jackson, Richard Taylor, and Tanya Rodgers formed the company on the backs of some b-level horror films and then matured into the tour de force that they are today.
The tour went quite deeply into the various facets of the process that Weta specializes in. Most interestingly, the armour-making, weapon-making, prosthetics and model making. A very good 2-hour tour.
I was deposited back at the end of Cuba street and walked up to the recommended Southern Cross bar and restaurant. I was keen to try their Poke Bowl but it was still “brunch menu time”. Three guesses what I had. They were good.
Next stop: Te Papa, the national museum.
One of the present focal points of Te Papa was developed by Weta Workshops, Gallipoli: The Scale of our War. It featured 3x size installations/dioramas of 9 notable people in the ill-fated Gallipoli campaign. More than supporting the dioramas were multimedia displays of the same subject. I spent more than 3 hour crawling thru this exhibition. It was amazing.
Eventually, I completed the Gallipoli exhibit and moved onto the rest of the museum. The modern art “wing” was very worthwhile (as my photos will attest).
Eventually I made my way back to Plimmerton and The Cawthorn residence. Francis was hosting a book-club at 7 and, after a wee late afternoon chat, Martin and I were purged during an the hill to the Taj Plimmerton, the local Indian food restaurant. Twas tasty. I introduced Martin to a decent Sag Paneer, something that he had not partaken of until our dinner.
We strolled up the hill to the casa and had another evening chat and called it a night.