Wellington sends its regards

I loved Wellington once, twice. I used to live here, before leaving and then returning. And then I left for the very last time, feeling bitter that the city had turned on me.

Have you ever made a decision about your life and then everything just seemed to go wrong? Shortly after moving to Wellington, I found that the room I had rented on a year-long contract fell through six months in, so I paid the rent on two places for months and ate into my savings, my boss was abusive, my hours horrendous. I had no time, money, energy or friends, and the ten months I lived in Wellington were the longest of my life. If I were a little more spiritual, I’d think it were the universe’s way of telling me that I’m on the wrong path, because when I moved to Sydney at the beginning of 2011, everything just fell into place with ease.

By the time I left, miserable and sour, Wellington had been tainted. I no longer looked at the city as a place of life and energy. All I saw were sad, decrepit buildings, and wind battered students, and seedy nightclubs. And I wanted out.

Last night, however, began with a walk down Cuba St, under lights, amid laughter, surrounded by activity, and I ended the night with a new regard for Wellington. It seems that even after all we went through, I still like this city.


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The Travel Natural

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Hey, I'm Emma

Fuelled by wanderlust, curiosity and a little restlessness, a natural at budget travel, so naturally, a travel blogger. An experienced chef, a proud kiwi, and a burgeoning photographer. And my old friends reading and writing? We go way back.

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