This morning I got in my rental and drove to the little town of Wakefield. It was either named after Cap’n Wakefield of the New Zealand Company or Wakefield, Yorkshire. I secretly hope it’s the latter, because the Cribs are from Wakefield and they are an awesome band. There wasn’t much to do in Wakefield, but I found an antique shop and bought a 1960s Fijian postcard someone had sent to her loved ones back in Nelson.
I hit the road again (I never just drive) and ended up at the Hoglund art glass studio. There was a bead-making class, so I signed up for it and got to melt roads of glass into various shapes and came out with seven beads, the likes of which are usually made into jewellery sold at weekend craft markets and bought by middle-aged ladies.
Now I’m in Motueka. I’m trying to find somewhere to eat, but it seems hard when there are places such as the “CHINESE SUSHI” joint and a cafe where all the cabinet food looked deep-fried. I mean, I wouldn’t consider myself a particularly fussy eater, but the eateries of Motueka aren’t giving me any love.
One thing I’ve noticed about internet cafes is how people want to haggle over rates. “You say the minimum charge is $1 for 10 minutes. If I spent only nine minutes, is it free?” It’s only a dollar, you cheap-arse tourist.
Now I must eat or I shall surely faint.