restaurant 88, pool and a dead car

One of the reasons we didn't explore outside of Martinborough when we were in the Wairarapa region was because we had a dinner appointment to keep. An advanced booking was made even before our arrival in Wellington for a table for 20 at Restaurant 88, home of the green lanterns, on Tory Street. Dinner was a greedy and noisy affair as we all tried to sample as many different dishes by picking out of one another's plates and to talk to all fifteen others at the same time to maximise the time to catch-up/reminisce/get-to-know-each-other.



After dinner sweets was at this supposedly the most popular place for dessert called Strawberry Fare that was rumoured to have been a funeral parlour in its past life. The place did appear creepy with its old and worn furniture and paintings of ghostly apparitions on the walls. I didn't order dessert but stole a few bites off this rich chocolate cake thingy that had a super cheesy name like 'Break my heart into pieces' or something like that and it didn't wow me in both its name and taste. I would choose my Max Brenner chocolate souffle over it anytime.

Then it was off to check out Wellington's night party scene which wasn't half as wild as Singapore's or Sydney's. We played a couple of games of pool in which I had a spectacular win playing solo against one of the boys before trying to get into the most popular club then called Rain in which we promptly gave up due to the ridiculous queue and ended up in a club opposite that had no one in it. Not even a soul. We were the only patrons. The music was so good though... that Van couldn't help but groove to. Even the three boys went on to join us on the empty dance floor and flexed their muscles a bit trying to choreograph some gym moves into a dance --> that was hilariously sensational. ;p It was very heartwarming the extent the boys went to to make us - first time tourists to Wellington - feel at home.









The most exciting thing that happened to us that night was when the car ran out of fuel on the highway back home and we had to all roll up our sleeves to push it to the nearest petrol station. That was my first experience pushing a dead car. How fun! As luck would have it, the petrol station was closed. We had to huddle up inside the car to keep warm and entertained ourselves by telling ghost stories while waiting for help in the form of the driver's Dad to arrive.







Post the petrol drama, we had three short hours to catch a few winks before taking a ferry to the South Island!