Back on Cuba Street while the dance troupe was still shaking those leg warmers, we struck up a conversation with a truck driver who paints and a construction worker who makes films. (In the less-modest United States, they’d be a painter who drives a truck and a filmmaker who works construction.) Both avowed that Wellington was by far the most avant-garde city in all of New Zealand, and to prove it, they decided to find us the kind of cool bar that could be found only here.
First, they tried Havana Bar off a side street in two connected colorful, Cuban-style shacks, but despite its lively atmosphere and available tables our friends immediately pronounced it “dead.” We finally ended up at a place called Mighty Mighty, where the band was playing psychobilly rock. We perused the drinks menu, which was hidden in a vintage record sleeve, and observed the wildly decked-out patrons, some dressed in afro wigs and others in lederhosen.
My wife and I looked at each other, and then at our impromptu guides, their point well and truly made: Wellington is cool. We get it now.
It's hard to tell where to start with this over-the-top monstrosity. The city isn't that mind-blowing, although the Mighty Mighty is as good a bar as you'll find anywhere.
Also, I just want to highlight this bit out again:
...we struck up a conversation with a truck driver who paints and a construction worker who makes films. (In the less-modest United States, they’d be a painter who drives a truck and a filmmaker who works construction.)
I think what they actually just discovered is not that NZ is down-to-earth but that NYC is pretentious...
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