Much of yesterday was spent buzzing around the hills around Auckland looking at absolutely amazing views. For the benefit of Australians, it was very like the Dandenongs, only much closer to the city (and without the wildlife); for the benefit of Californians it was very like the road from Willetts to Fort Bragg, except with vegetation out of The Lost World. And then there were the sea views. Fans of Xena and Hercules may remember this beach, which got filmed lots because Lion Rock is so photogenic.

After that it was back on a plane. Huge thanks to Auckland airport for being the only place I have found in NZ so far with a decent Internet connection. Sadly I wasn’t there long enough to clear my backlog and still have some 200+ messages to download.

I’m now in Wellington, in a small Mercure which is very nice except for the cost of Internet access. The city is build on the side of a cliff – in fact it may be inside a giant caldera. As a consequence the harbor is fabulous but there airport runway is very short and once you get a few streets away from the sea things get a bit steep. My hotel is on a street called The Terrace: the front door and reception is on the 5th floor, and my room is on the 3rd. This is normal for Wellington.

Last night Daniel and Kelly took me to nearby Cuba Street where the hotel where next year’s NZ Natcon is being held can be found. This is down on the flat, you will be pleased to hear. It is also crammed with interesting restaurants, bars and shops. We had a great meal last night, and there are lots of other interesting places I’d love to try. It really is a fabulous location for a convention, and I’ll get some photos and video today.

You will note the occasional sex shop and brothel in the area, and over the weekend one concerned NZ fan cornered me and told me that foreign visitors might find the area a bit scary. However, you should also note that prostitution is legal in NZ, which makes the whole process much safer, and also NZ is apparently the safest country in the world in which to live. As long as you don’t do anything silly like wear an Australian rugby shirt or insult a large and muscular drunk (of whom there may be quite a few) you’ll be fine.