When I first arrived in New Zealand, I hated it. Auckland was raining and cold and the hostel I arrived at felt like it had been built from old wooden pallets. Draughty, no heating and sharing a room with four others on what felt like a prisoners mattress, I was miserable after having spent 2 months enjoying luxury hotels in sunny Thailand. I suffer from SAD (such an apt but cringe acronym) so going from a British cold wet winter to a taste of paradise only to be in another cold wet winter, it was as though I had escaped the pirates to only be eaten by the sharks.
Fortunately my perspective greatly shifted when I agreed to meet up with an old mate I’d met in Brisbane. He suggested we go watch a gig on K-Road and enjoy some drinks at the local rock club afterwards. Having left behind a dying live music scene (specifically live bands, dance and drum and bass was having a resurgence) I found myself in my element.
There’s something truely raw and magical about a group of people doing their fucking damndest to rock a room with a bunch of instruments in their hands. It’s something you can’t quite match with a macbook and a smoke machine.
Having had a great night out and making acquaintences I would go on to see again I had realised that I could make a life here, I knew that there was somewhere for me to fit in.
