Food musings

Well mission accomplished on the drowning out gross sushi memories. My palate was more than pleased with dinner last night. We went to a place called Pravda, which is nothing like my beloved Pravda in New York that served caviar pizza and dirty martinis. But at this place, I feasted on yummy bruschetta, salmon in saffron broth (cooked this time) and decadent chocolate panna cotta and creme brulee which I shared with the boys. And the wine. Oh that New Zealand wine. I don't actually know what we drank, but it was a pinot noir and it was full, rich and delicious.

Of course, I never learn my lesson that wine should stop with dinner, so when we got back, I wound up getting hammered on whatever was remaining in my kitchen. I'm paying the price today. I made myself go to a spinning class which was deadly, and am now very slowly working my way through this awful carrot/apple/beet concoction I got on the way back. It's supposed to cleanse my liver, but all it's doing is sparking my gag reflex.

Just so this post isn't all about food, here are some observations about Wellington:

We're located smack in the middle of the central business district, so I tend to see a lot of business people. But there's a good number of young people wandering about also. Lots of kids in Catholic school uniforms, matched by the same number of punky youths dressed in all black. (Addendum: it took me about 5 days to remember that "punky youths dressed in all black" can also be referred to as goths. God, I'm getting old.)

New Zealanders are very proud to be natural born hippies. Eco-travel, adventure sports and preservation are big here and they're happy to talk all about it. Everyone seems to have gone bungee jumping at least once. Outdoor beauty is a source of national pride.

This isn't New Zealand-specific, but I'm still having a hell of a time dealing with walking on the left. The walking part is fine, but when someone is coming straight at me, my instinct is to veer right, when their instinct is to veer left, and we end up doing that awkward dance on the sidewalk.

The girls here aren't that skinny or stylish, which pleases me. That sounds like a horrible thing to say, but try hanging out with a bunch of locals in Italy and you'll know what I mean. Nothing made me feel squatter or more dowdy than hanging out with those girls. Here, people seem more healthy than anything else. It's a blend of the British strawberries-and-cream complexions combined with outdoorsiness.

There's an astonishing number of cute cafes and CD/DVD stores. I'm not sure how anyone stays in business. There's also a ton of Subways, which is so grossly American, but I love Subway so I can't complain.