Sunday, January 8, 2012


Poverty line.

National Park-Wellington

10 days behind us. 10 days of travelling – sometimes feeling meaningless, sometimes more than meaningful – that were well spent in my honest opinion. We're sitting at a relatively new hostel in Wellington now. Maria is talking with a Swedish girl and an Austrian woman about the various aspects of different languages and I'm being highly anti-social by typing blog texts of little relevance and listening to a musical creation called Deadwing.

10 days behind us. We were eating dinner two hours ago – minced beef burgers, potatoes and tomatoes – and felt good about having proper food after eating tuna and pasta for nearly six days straight. Chatting with a Swedish guy and an American girl. She was from Portland and made jewellery. Proper food felt good.

10 days behind us. We did our groceries at a life-style orientated grocery store where everything was nicely on the shelves but the price tags under the various foods weren't as pleasant to look at.

10 days behind us. The hostel receptionist asked me to pay a 20 dollar deposit payment. I have never felt that an approximate 10 euro chunk out of my back account would be anything even close to a large sum of money. I did at that moment.

10 days of travelling and nearly all that was left from work is spent. Feeling cautious about money feels strange but somehow feeling poor feels important. Important in the way getting the first disappointed look from your father feels important – bad, but somehow you know that you have to look back, meet the gaze, and stand up straight.

10 days behind us, more up front.

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