I've heard that quote many times but unsure of the philosopher it is attributed to.
Whoever it was, I'm pretty sure they wrote it after flying London to Wellington, NZ.
After leaving my home Wednesday morning, I've had my passport stamped in 2 countries, travelling through 3 continents, crossing 13 timezones, taking 36 hours on 4 hours sleep to journey 12,000 miles. All of which done whilst going back in time 11 hours.
Excuse me, my head had just exploded.
Do not fear readers, I dare say that will be the only remotely negative thing you will read on this journal over the next 7 days. Being here just one afternoon, I'm already beginning to think this is my kinda place.
Our first stop on this little adventure is the oh-so chic capital of Wellington.
We drop in to the Te Papa Maori museum, for a little tour guided by an eloquent native whose name was so inpronounceable, I will not insult him by trying to spell it here.
He talks about his people's beliefs with such passion, yet so much humility, that his seemingly implausible stories of Maori gods could silence the staunchest believer of western religions.
From the old to the new and we are met by our next guide, who goes on to show us that Wellington could out-hipster the trendier-than-thou corners of East London or Manhattan.
Vintage shops, chocolatiers, and the best indie coffee shops you will ever encounter await you on the waterfront and we don't cover the half of it. We meet the ageing owner of mojo coffee company whilst he is roasting his beans (no euphemism intended). We hear his story of starting up a milk joint in the 60s and growing it into one of New Zealand's biggest coffee brands. I then sample possibly the best flat white ever tasted, no exaggeration I assure you....
Well my friends, the day was long but the night is young, and I really need to power on through this before I collapse...speak soon....
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