Travelling Friends, a Walking Tour and Being Publicly Flogged

Originally uploaded by scrunt.

So travelling alone is a strange experience. I think my friend Nao said it best when she said that it was both exhilarating and lonely. It forces me out of my shell, as I know that I won’t see anyone I know, so I have to start talking, but it is also exhausting because you *always* have to be on. But its something that I’ve gotten used to, at least partially, and I’ve made some interesting friends along my trips.

So my dorm buddies where a good example. There was the 20 something kiwi-asian guy who was looking for a job and had just moved to Wellington and who was, for all accounts, a bit of a stoner. One night he wandered in after having a “smoke” and he wasn’t finishing his sentences. He reminded me of one of my roommates from way back when, when I asked him how he was doing, he stared back at me and said “ahhh, yup”. But anyhew, so that was roomie number one. Roomie Number two was a German girl named, you guessed it, Stephanie. Or Steffie as she liked to be called. She was always tired from working, yet would talk and talk and talk when she had a moment. Roomie Number Three was a German guy named Felix. The way he introduced himself was “You know, like ze cat? Black und White? Mrwooowr?”. Indeed. Then Roomie Number Four was an Irish girl who we didn’t see much as she went out drinking and didn’t get back until 4am.

So my Saturday started out a little rough, although I did get up and go for my Walking Tour. I met up with one woman and what looked like three other tourists, but it turned out they were doing a training tour for the other women. So I was the sole walker on a tour with four tour guides. The tour lasted a bit longer than it should have, I think it was 2.5 hours instead of the usual 1.5 – which was fine with me because I didn’t really have anything to do anyhow.

It was a lovely warm day out, we took a nice walk around the harbour, around the CBD, then up to the Beehive and we ended at Old St. Paul’s. There was a notice on the door for upcoming performances at the church, and one was a gospel show for the next Friday.. so I made it my mission on my way home to buy myself a ticket to go. At a whopping $10, I figured I could work it into my budget.

Then, I had lunch with one of the ladies at the Back Bencher’s cafe – I have pictures from later on at the end of my trip from the same Cafe as it was the only one what was open on a Sunday at 6pm before my bus ride back to Auckland.

Again, I wandered home, this time past Cuba Street, to Real Groovy to get my tickets and I stumbled across a CD sale and decided that I needed to augment my CD collection in the “Amazing male singer/songwriters who died in the late 90’s” category by purchasing Yes by Morphine and Jeff Buckley’s “Sketches for my Girlfriend the Drunk”. And of course my ticket to the Gospel night.

So, I wandered “home” again, had a nap and then got ready to go to the the-a-tre. The show I chose to go see was called “Public Lashings and Whipped Cream: Confessions of a Teenage Dominatrix”. It was a bit more interactive than I would have thought, and with being a student, I got a cheap ticket. Instead of putting me, cute innocent student, at the back of the theatre, they put me front row centre. So, I ended up getting mildly flogged during the show. I didn’t have to get up on stage or anything, but it was humiliating enough.

I wandered back to the hostel afterwards, chatting again with stoner dude and called it an early night.


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