We checked out of our hotel just as the jack-hammers started in the building next door (apparently it needs to be properly underpinned since new measures were introduced by the government in the wake of the Christchurch quake). Leaving downtown Napier behind we headed out of town to Silk Oaks chocolate factory to see the workers lining chocolate molds by hand, and sample some of their delicious chocolates and sweets. We bought a few things 'for the road' knowing full well they probably wouldn't even make it out of the car park. We had a hot chocolate to give our purchases a fighting chance, and then we were off, heading south to Wellington.
Driving through dry pasture land we stopped off for lunch at a tiny little town called Shannon. We should have continued driving. We ate at The Horsemans Cafe, and the meal was the most dismal yet. Each serving would only be suitable for one of the many sparrows that frequented the courtyard, the pies being so small they could be mistaken for a friand. The sausage roll Mum had was terrible - tough and dry, like a dead dingo's donger wrapped in puff pastry. The ladies who ran the place were lovely though. We opened a packet of lollies that Mum had bought at the chocolate shop, to cleanse the palette. They were reported to be 'Pear Drops', so Mick was not interested at all, but I thought I'd give then a try. To describe them as 'rugged' would be giving them a compliment. If I had to make a comparison I'd say they tasted the way a toilet block smelt, although with a slight banana flavour.
Putting the wondrous gastronomic experience of Shannon behind us, we drove on to Wellington - arriving in the city in the late afternoon. We repaired to our hotel (once we found it) and got ready for dinner. Walking down to a Chinese restaurant in the city we did a good amount of people watching, and noticed a peculiar phenomenon of guys wearing shorts with long socks. Presumably if it's because of the inclement Wellington weather. Anyway the weather was quite mild, so we went and ate dinner and thought nothing more of it.
When we left dinner the wind had picked up, and was presumably blowing from Antarctica, as it was now so cold that not a nipple was left un-stiffened. We hurried back to the safety of our hotel, and settled in for a night of rough winds that battered the town. Wellington had certainly lived up to its windy reputation, with more to come in the following days.
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