Dunedin

Dunedin claims to be the most Scottish city outside of Scotland. Actually, the name means “Edinburgh” in Gaelic. The funny thing about the Scots is that they seem to always choose the place abroad that most resembles home when looking to settle. I suppose this is normal for any emigrating group, but you would think human nature would encourage a bit more of a desire for progress. Thus, not surprisingly, it appears Dunedin has some of the worst weather in New Zealand. We arrived in the morning and the whole town was shrouded by fog, so you could barely make out the surrounding mountains. Everything else in the town is a bit of a replica of the motherland as well (lots of stone and Presbyterian churches). It was a bit eerie. My father seemed quite content, especially after he realised he could haggle in the antique shops, and we saw all of them in Dunedin as a consequence. Even I ended up buying myself a wood chest….how I will get it home is an entirely separate issue however. One of the major features of the town is its spectacular train station….although no passenger trains have passed by since 2001. There are weatherboard houses of varying size and hilltop views overlooking the harbour. J and j invited us to their house, so we could see (again) how “real Kiwis” live. I had to wonder if this was not a bit taking the piss, but it couldn’t have been- they couldn’t have known that every other private home we had seen had been equally amazing. So their house is on a hill, with a view over the harbour. It has 6 bedrooms and the same number of bathrooms. It is high Victorian, and has been beautifully restored. It is filled with (too many in my view) antiques they have spent decades collecting. And because j’s parents are ailing and struggle with the numerous staircases, it is currently on the market for 500,000 New Zealand dollars. You might be able to get a one bedroom for that price on the outskirts of London, but that would take some luck…which makes me wonder yet again, what the point is?