Fall is definitely coming here. There are still warm sunny days, but some of the leaves are already changing and I can't ever leave the house without a jacket for when the wind picks up. Recently, the gray, misty weather has set in as promised, and we were treated to the dramatic sight of the clouds draping down over the bordering hills and slowly closing in to cover the city in spitting, delicate rain. Fortunately, the wind has been calm enough that my umbrella has only been blown inside-out twice so far. I can see why people don't use them much here.

Although rain seems to threaten frequently, we haven't yet developed the instincts to tell us if those dark, low-hanging clouds are actually going to pour on us (as we've experienced on a couple occasions) or just hang up there happily threatening all day without ever releasing a drop. The weather reports are consistently vague each day, with the whole operatic production in several movements we witness crossing the sky every day being summed up by one of the following adjectives: "occasional showers", "cloudy", "freshening in the afternoon" or simply "fine". The highs and lows they announce also rarely have bearing in reality. Watching our fellow citizens for clues doesn't help much. People here never seem to react to the changing conditions or even look up worriedly at the sky, despite its sometimes ominous appearance. We've witnessed many instances when half the passersby are wearing windbreakers and wool wraps, and the other half are in flip-flops and tank tops, all seeming perfectly comfortable!

Wellington is extremely hilly and the street maps never show the topography, so what looks like it will be right down the street can often be several hundred feet straight above you, or across a valley and back up again, for example. It makes getting around on foot a bit of an adventure. The really unique thing is all the pedestrian shortcuts that are built into the hills. They usually aren't on the maps either, but they are so common, that you can pretty much be sure if you are heading towards what looks like a dead end for cars, you will find a set of steps cutting between the houses in a narrow alleyway at the end of it, leading you up to the next terrace. Some of the shortcuts turn out to be fantastic little nature walks, with overhanging, mossy plants and steep switchbacks. One minute you're in the city and the next you're deep inside the forest. And then you pop out the other side on a little suburban street again. Many lucky homeowners have houses that can only be reached by these little hidden walkways -- you can't drive up to them at all. The wealthier folks have installed little automated trolley tracks that carry a few bags of groceries up the incline to their front doors for them.

Recently, we went for a long walk up into the "Town Belt" which is the extensive greenspace buffer surrounding the central city built-in by the original settlers and city planners. We started out at "Central Park" which, unlike its namesake is located in Brooklyn (yes, there is a Brooklyn, NZ) and it is very small. Wellington is known for its characteristic pine-covered hills surrounding the central city and harbor. It surprised me to learn that although these beautiful trees are mostly over a hundred years old, they are far from being native forest. The majority of trees are species imported from Monterey, California (chosen for their ability to adapt to the harsh seaside conditions) and planted during a massive beautification campaign at the end of the 19th century. Prior to that time, the Town Belt was mainly used for grazing sheep and cattle, and had degenerated into a band of brown, muddy, bare hills that largely detracted from the reputation of the city. In the valleys between the pines are dense, moist thickets filled with one of New Zealand's most unique plants: tree ferns. We mistook these fantastic plants for palm trees for weeks after arriving, and thought it strange that such a tropical plant could survive so far south.

Let me start out by saying...It is hard to imagine how else it could be possible to physically distance ourselves so far from our previous home and find ourselves in such a generally familiar environment. What I mean is, all of our concepts of how thngs ought to work and fit together -- how to navigate the city, what kind of food we can expect to find, what types of stores sell what types of things, what we can do to entertain ourselves -- are as similar to what we are used to as if we had just moved across the country, not over the Pacific Ocean to a new hemisphere. Many things are familiar to us from our time in Europe (such as the toilets that have both a flush and a half-flush option to conserve water; the little blue arrrows that point out curbs to drivers and the red-encircled kilometer speed limits; the large, safe public spaces and generally bustling foot traffic in the city). But many more things that I expected are familiar from the U.S., perhaps most noticeably people's attitudes (informal, frequently joking, irreverent, outgoing) and the widespread consumerism that enfolds us. I've found that if the actual brand or product I am used to buying isn't in the store (and quite a few American items are) then a Kiwi-made brand that fulfills exactly the same niche will be right where I look for it. My basic, daily desires can continue to operate along the old patterns. Of course, I find plenty of bonuses here and there (like my new love for fresh feijoa juice, flat white coffees and kumara). People here in Wellington obviously value high-quality things, in the realms of food, clothes, cars, art, design, living space, and they seem to willing to work to earn to spend to live well.

(Top photo shows me in our new apartment)