A Stranger in Wellington

Wellington, July 16th 2015

In a big city, public transportation should be convenient. Assuming so, I searched around for bus timetables. Why take a taxi when buses are plenty, right?

Yeah... they are metros, too. Now which one goes to YHA Wellington? Map... check... Ah, why trouble my mind while there's a information booth there and this time, I speak the language. Right?

Just a few meters before I reached the desk, the lady staff behind the desk left and there was nobody else there. Look around....

A man in blue uniform. Ah, he must understand about the transportation around, I assumed again.

"Excuse me, Sir."

He pulled off his earphone instantly and bowed down towards me -- for he was tall, or I was short.

"Do you know which bus or metro goes to this address?" I showed him a piece of paper with my hostel's address.

"Uhm... I think... it is... " then suddenly the lady behind that information desk passed by. He called her and she told him the number of the bus.

"From here you go straight to that escalator...  you go up... and then... uhmm, just come with me!"

Before I could say anything, he was already walking ahead -- in the opposite direction to which he had been heading to.

"Am I not bothering you?"

"No, no. It's okay. It's not far anyway."

At the bus stop. "Let me see your address again, please. ... YHA... "

"YHA! I know that! That's at Courtnay Place." Suddenly we heard a voice. An Asian looking guy.

 "You know the place?" The man in blue uniform seemed more excited than me.

"Yes, I know. I'm going towards that direction, too."

"You are?" said the man in blue uniform again.

"Yes, I am!"

"Can you take her with you?"

"Sure, sure!"

"So you'll get off at the same stop?"

"Yes, I will. My destination is only a couple blocks away from the YHA."

"Great. Thank you so much!" That man's look was, "I entrust her to you, take good care of her."

This Asian looking guy turned out to be a Sri Lankan. He grew up, studied, and now working in New Zealand. His English was remarkable enough to proof he did grow up in NZ and in fact half a New Zealander himself. Being Asians in a white people's land, we shared something in common and thus had a great conversation along the way. We shared our views about the people, from nearly the same point of view. We shared about food... Oh yeah, guess what, he thought I was a Vietnamese.


He stood up.  "Are we getting off here?" I asked.

"Yes, this is it."

We got off and I heard, "Thank you, Driver!" from him.

"So I'll just follow this road, right?" I asked again.

"Yes, it's not far from here. I'll show you."

"Thank you so much. Are you going to get back on the bus?"

"No, I'm not. No worries."

Another short conversation continued. This time about what to see -- and eat -- around the place. Te Papa Museum was one, a crocodile restaurant was another.

"Crocodile!? Crocodile meat!?"

"Yes, it's famous. They serve crocodile meat."

Then there I saw it. YHA.

"I can't thank you enough for this."

"My pleasure. I know how it sucks getting lost in a foreign country. Enjoy your evening!"