Cures for the Blues

By Friday last week I was a little blue, missing family and friends.  So John decided we needed to go shopping (at rush hour!) (on the left!) at Briscoes in search of pillows and such, not provided in the new apt.  It was terrifying, but we survived.
Then on Saturday:  seal therapy!  Eschewing the $100 tour, we drove down to the Marine Reserve Center and walked the sandy rocky coastline, mostly in the company of a group of Chinese students, often passed by dog walkers and cyclists, as we squeezed to the side of the narrow path for the occasional ATV or 4WD vehicle to pass.  The wind was blustery.  At times I thought it might blow me down, and we sometimes had to ford little streams as they made their way to the sea which was grey at first, then blue when the sun came out, with lots of whitecaps.  There were a number of huge rock formations, probably the most interesting of which was Red Rocks. According to the MRC, no one knows why this formation of red, green and purple rocks is so different from the surrounding landscape.

Finally, about three miles in, we came to Sullivan's Head on Cook Strait, where the seals, in all their smelly glory, were lounging on rocks or in the sand or swimming, raising one flipper at a time, out in the water.  They were pretty nonchalant about pictures, but we were supposed to stay 20 yards or so away.  The Chinese students were fearless and approached with their lenses till a low moan from this huge bull warned them away.  

Just past the seals, there was a rocky pass, and the South Island was clearly visible.  Apparently, it's only eight miles away, though tricky currents mean it takes 3 hours to get there by ferry.
Fairly done in by our long walk, we had brunch at Vista, a restaurant in our soon-to-be neighborhood and headed home for the evening.
On Sunday, we went to meeting, where they read our  introductory traveling minute from Tom Edgerton.  It was a lovely introduction, and, listening to it, we wondered who those nice people might be.  The morning was warm and fine, and after meeting, we headed down to the market at the waterfront for a roti wrap, then browsing around the trendy shops on Cuba St. before perusing the Central Library.
Looked at guitars in a music shop and shopped in vain for coffee for our French press.  By then the sky had turned dark, and it actually started hailing, then sleeting before we made it to the beautiful Embassy Theater for "The Kid on the Bike," a French entry at the NZ Film Festival.  Big city life has its charms.  But we still miss all of you.