The Wellington Regional Council is undertaking a second round of consultation on its review of bus services. After a first round of consultation, it has prepared some proposals for how to reorganise routes to respond to people's desires for greater frequency and more services in the evening and on weekends, within the current budget.
The WRC reports that it has followed "best practice public transport design principles" in designing the new routes. The main change is that routes are divided into three tiers: 'core', 'secondary' and 'peak only'. The core routes would run along main corridors with a 15-minute frequency, 7 days, early morning to late evening. The secondary routes are more suburban-oriented branches and loops, most with an all-week 30-minute frequency. The peak-only routes are a combination of local loops to fringe areas and more direct routes from suburbs to the CBD in peak hours.
The trade off for the increased hours and frequency is that more journeys will require a change of buses than at present, many through major connection points such as the Cable Car, Wellington Station, Johnsonville, Kilbirnie, Brookly and Karori Tunnel. WRC says connections will be free for travel on the same company, and major connection points will offer shelter
After having a look and applying the proposed new system to places I or people I know have lived, I'm cautiously positive. The Brooklyn area in particular would be much better served than at present. On the other hand, some of the idiosyncratic northwest-southeast routes will go: it would no longer be possible to get a bus from right outside by house in Northland to a couple of blocks away from my friends' house in Berhampore.
Nevertheless, I think the trade offs are probably worth it. Frequency and extended hours are a major selling point of a public transport system, making a difference between it being a convenient, consumer-centred service and something you're relegated to when you don't have a car. One of the things that I like about the metro systems in large international cities is that you can just show up at the station and be confident that the next train will be along soon. It's a different experience from having to organize your day around being at bus stops at very specific times or facing an interminable wait in the wind and rain.
So, I'll provide a qualified endorsement of the WRC's proposal, with the following conditions:
-- the frequencies and extended hours are as promised
-- the connections are as seamless as they promise
-- cash-paying passengers get the same transfer rights, i.e. it isn't some mysterious process available only to those with a Snapper card
-- the Cable Car should also be a free transfer
Showing posts with label Wellington. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wellington. Show all posts
Thursday, March 01, 2012
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Now for Something on Wellington Transport Geography
Following my previous partly-informed comments about urban development in Christchurch, I'll add some thoughts on the place where I actually live.
Many of the discussions of transport and urban planning in Wellington seem to divide along broad ideological lines. On the one hand are those who have an "all cars all of the time" mentality and want to build as many motorways, flyovers, tunnels and bypasses as it will take, with those not travelling in cars little more than an afterthought. On the other hand are those who would like to see a complete alternative infrastructure, often emphasizing light rail (I'm not sure what the deal is with light rail -- for me, it hardly grabs the imagination like, say, fast inter-city trains or a metro system).
I don't mean to go all Matthew Yglesias here, but there are some technical improvements that don't require commitment to any one vision of the world.A simple thing that would clearly improve central Wellington would be some kind of bridge or underpass across the northern end of Waterloo/Customouse/Jervois Quay, preferably at Whitmore St opposite the Lynx ferry terminal. Wellington has an impressive waterfront, a mostly public space with good recreational opportunities. It is well linked to the central city at the Courtenay Place / Cuba St end by the City to Sea bridge. However, Wellington's CBD also has a centre of gravity at its northern end, which is home to the government sector, the railiway station and the stadium. This connection of this area with the waterfront is severed by four lanes of traffic roaring along Waterloo Quay. To cross to the waterfront, one has to wait for the lights or a break in the traffic, which sometimes takes several minutes.
I mostly notice this as an annoyance when going for runs, which tend to start from a base in the northern end of the city. But it's also a clear flaw in what is otherwise, by New Zealand standards, a relatively pedestrian-friendly urban layout. Wellington's city centre is mostly well connected to the hills and water to its south, east and west. The northern CBD-waterfront gap is one of the kinks in this flow. Another, of course, is the ugly bottleneck at the Basin Reserve.
Many of the discussions of transport and urban planning in Wellington seem to divide along broad ideological lines. On the one hand are those who have an "all cars all of the time" mentality and want to build as many motorways, flyovers, tunnels and bypasses as it will take, with those not travelling in cars little more than an afterthought. On the other hand are those who would like to see a complete alternative infrastructure, often emphasizing light rail (I'm not sure what the deal is with light rail -- for me, it hardly grabs the imagination like, say, fast inter-city trains or a metro system).
I don't mean to go all Matthew Yglesias here, but there are some technical improvements that don't require commitment to any one vision of the world.A simple thing that would clearly improve central Wellington would be some kind of bridge or underpass across the northern end of Waterloo/Customouse/Jervois Quay, preferably at Whitmore St opposite the Lynx ferry terminal. Wellington has an impressive waterfront, a mostly public space with good recreational opportunities. It is well linked to the central city at the Courtenay Place / Cuba St end by the City to Sea bridge. However, Wellington's CBD also has a centre of gravity at its northern end, which is home to the government sector, the railiway station and the stadium. This connection of this area with the waterfront is severed by four lanes of traffic roaring along Waterloo Quay. To cross to the waterfront, one has to wait for the lights or a break in the traffic, which sometimes takes several minutes.
I mostly notice this as an annoyance when going for runs, which tend to start from a base in the northern end of the city. But it's also a clear flaw in what is otherwise, by New Zealand standards, a relatively pedestrian-friendly urban layout. Wellington's city centre is mostly well connected to the hills and water to its south, east and west. The northern CBD-waterfront gap is one of the kinks in this flow. Another, of course, is the ugly bottleneck at the Basin Reserve.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Round the Bays Again
The time has come around again for the Wellington Round the Bays Half Marathon. Two years ago I blogged about how I hoped to achieve a personal best time, and how I was ultimately disappointed. Looking at the results now puts things in a slightly different perspective. The course is not a particularly quick one, with a winning time in 2010 of 1:12, and an average time of 1:55. Last year the winning time was the same, and the average time even slower, at just on 2:00. In 2010 I finished in 1:34:35, which put me almost exactly half way between the winner and the race average. I was 115th out of 1,060 runners, although only about 975 finished (the linked post was incorrect in saying there were only 574 runners). I'm an ungainly runner, and have never trained really consistently, so I guess that's not too bad.
This year, I've gone through so many health and fitness issues since (and some before) summiting Aconcagua, that I'll just be happy to finish, let alone beat my previous time. Weather conditions are not looking too bad: it should be quite cool with light winds at the race start time of 8:00 am, although there's likely to be both sun and some wind as it progresses.
I'll only post an update if my result isn't too embarassing.
This year, I've gone through so many health and fitness issues since (and some before) summiting Aconcagua, that I'll just be happy to finish, let alone beat my previous time. Weather conditions are not looking too bad: it should be quite cool with light winds at the race start time of 8:00 am, although there's likely to be both sun and some wind as it progresses.
I'll only post an update if my result isn't too embarassing.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Opinions on Coffee and Cricket
For a change, here are a couple of opinions I agree with.
Australian food writer Michael Symons puts his credentials behind two claims I'm happy to make but can't really back up: the flat white is one of best ways to drink coffee; and its art has been perfected in Wellington:
As an Australian food historian, I declare that it started in Australia, where it often remains weak, murky, fluffy and under-appreciated. It was then perfected in New Zealand, more particularly, in Wellington. It's impossible to find a better morning coffee anywhere. I know, because I've tried.
I have some time for the view that you shouldn't put anything at all in espresso coffee and that its best form is its purest: what we call the 'short black'. But there's something about a cup full of strong coffee mixed with creamy milk -- most importantly, it lasts longer, and better accompanies a conversation.
I can't claim to have coffee-researched as widely as Symons, but whenever I'm away from Wellington for a while, it's what I miss most. In Brisbane I was frustrated in my search for acceptable coffee, even in Italian-owned places. Melbourne was better. From memory, London and Paris were as mediocre as Symons reports. In coffee-exporting Latin American countries you can generally get a fresh-tasting short black if you find somewhere with an espresso machine, but they have little idea how to make coffee with milk. Italy of course is the home of espresso: from memories of my last trip there years ago the coffee was excellent, but the tendency to serve it with lukewarm milk meant that the overall experience differed from this antipodean's preferences.
This should not be cause for complacency: in New Zealand, the average standard is that not that high, It's still common to find watery, bitter, single-shot coffee, with milk served in excessive quantities and sometimes burnt. In most centres you have to seek out somewhere with a good local reputation. Even in Wellington, some of the speciality outlets have expanded too quickly at the expense of quality control.
Symons provides some admirable trans-Tasman history, and traces the stories of Supreme, Havana and L'Affare, among others. However, for me the best coffee in Wellington (and therefore possibly the world) is from the little hole in the wall cafe on The Terrace next to the Reserve Bank, which trades as the Gibbston Coffee Company (I know this only because it appears on my Eftpos transactions; the business has no apparent title and the stenciled lettering on the window says only 'coffee'). This has sacks of unroasted coffee beans stashed on the floor, a roasting machine that looks like something out of Leonardo da Vinci drawing, and a single espresso machine, leaving barely enough space of the constant flow of customers.
Meanwhile, with careers drawing to a close, Ian Chappell considers the legacy of the the era's three great batsmen: Ricky Ponting, Sachin Tendulkar and Brian Lara. I agree with his ultimate preference for Lara. You can't go past Tendulkar for sheer weight of runs and longevity. Ponting has played some incredible innings, such as the rearguard 156 at Old Trafford and the dominant 140 not out against India in the 2003 World Cup final. But Lara's combination of technique, elegance and mental concentration just surpasses the other two. Playing in what was a relatively weak West Indies team (Ponting never had to face McGrath or Warne), he often seemed to stand single-handedly between oppositin teams and victory. If you had to choose someone to bat for your life, it would be Lara.
Australian food writer Michael Symons puts his credentials behind two claims I'm happy to make but can't really back up: the flat white is one of best ways to drink coffee; and its art has been perfected in Wellington:
As an Australian food historian, I declare that it started in Australia, where it often remains weak, murky, fluffy and under-appreciated. It was then perfected in New Zealand, more particularly, in Wellington. It's impossible to find a better morning coffee anywhere. I know, because I've tried.
I have some time for the view that you shouldn't put anything at all in espresso coffee and that its best form is its purest: what we call the 'short black'. But there's something about a cup full of strong coffee mixed with creamy milk -- most importantly, it lasts longer, and better accompanies a conversation.
I can't claim to have coffee-researched as widely as Symons, but whenever I'm away from Wellington for a while, it's what I miss most. In Brisbane I was frustrated in my search for acceptable coffee, even in Italian-owned places. Melbourne was better. From memory, London and Paris were as mediocre as Symons reports. In coffee-exporting Latin American countries you can generally get a fresh-tasting short black if you find somewhere with an espresso machine, but they have little idea how to make coffee with milk. Italy of course is the home of espresso: from memories of my last trip there years ago the coffee was excellent, but the tendency to serve it with lukewarm milk meant that the overall experience differed from this antipodean's preferences.
This should not be cause for complacency: in New Zealand, the average standard is that not that high, It's still common to find watery, bitter, single-shot coffee, with milk served in excessive quantities and sometimes burnt. In most centres you have to seek out somewhere with a good local reputation. Even in Wellington, some of the speciality outlets have expanded too quickly at the expense of quality control.
Symons provides some admirable trans-Tasman history, and traces the stories of Supreme, Havana and L'Affare, among others. However, for me the best coffee in Wellington (and therefore possibly the world) is from the little hole in the wall cafe on The Terrace next to the Reserve Bank, which trades as the Gibbston Coffee Company (I know this only because it appears on my Eftpos transactions; the business has no apparent title and the stenciled lettering on the window says only 'coffee'). This has sacks of unroasted coffee beans stashed on the floor, a roasting machine that looks like something out of Leonardo da Vinci drawing, and a single espresso machine, leaving barely enough space of the constant flow of customers.
Meanwhile, with careers drawing to a close, Ian Chappell considers the legacy of the the era's three great batsmen: Ricky Ponting, Sachin Tendulkar and Brian Lara. I agree with his ultimate preference for Lara. You can't go past Tendulkar for sheer weight of runs and longevity. Ponting has played some incredible innings, such as the rearguard 156 at Old Trafford and the dominant 140 not out against India in the 2003 World Cup final. But Lara's combination of technique, elegance and mental concentration just surpasses the other two. Playing in what was a relatively weak West Indies team (Ponting never had to face McGrath or Warne), he often seemed to stand single-handedly between oppositin teams and victory. If you had to choose someone to bat for your life, it would be Lara.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Birds of a Feather
When I first moved here I used to get quite excited about seeing the occasional tui. Despite being very vocal, they could be slightly shy. Now they practically own the place, chirping regally on bushes and power lines alike.
When trekking along the Karori ridgeline a couple of years ago with some friends, we spotted a kereru, or native pigeon, as we descended through some bush above Khandallah. It was the first time I had seen one in the wild: my knowledge of it mainly derived from the Department of Conservation "Kereru in Crisis" poster that graced my bedroom wall (Unless steps are taken to halt its decline, this magnificent bird will disappear from most forests on the mainland...).
Now, there are a couple of kereru that have found a niche about half way up Garden Rd, occasionally flapping their plump bodies between clumps of vegetation. The other day, one alighted on a branch of a bush barely two metres to my left as I was walking up the road. I quickly froze and was able to stand quietly watch it pecking away at some berries for several minutes.
Best of all, there are now at least two kaka that have colonised the area around the Thorndon cemetery. The kaka is a native parrot, a little smaller and slimmer than the kea, which lives in the lowlands and at medium altitudes. The only time I had seen kaka previously was on a trip to Kapiti Island, and I never thought that I would find them in my own neighbourhood. The kaka seems to be an incorrigible extrovert and a show off. On Kapiti Island there was one that happily landed on and climbed all over the visiting tourists. While the ones inhabiting the cemtery aren't that tame, they are happy to make themselves visible. They seem to particularly like the big old pine and macrocapa trees, sitting in the highest branches and squawking or trilling before setting off on another strafing run across the cricket fields.
The presence of this native bird life is a source of joy for reasons I can't quite articulate. Part of is that they are just more interesting and beautiful than the blackbirds and sparrows. But part of it is also something more complicated to do with renaissance and reclamation.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Storm Front Wellington
Today in Wellington was a rare day, in recent times, of warm sunshine and light winds, with the moist air helping send the cumulus clouds puffing up over the Eastbourne hills. But there was also a cold front due late afternoon. Seeking some extra exercise after a weather-aborted tramping trip in the Tararuas, and with half an idea that some interesting weather might develop, I strolled up the Polhill Reserve track to the Brooklyn wind turbine.
My timing was good: just as I got to the windmill, the southerly buster arrived, sweeping in over Cook Strait. I was hoping some thunderstorm-like activity would brew, but nothing developed. However, I did get some reasonable photos over the harbour and the strait as the front arrived. In the last one you can see a plane that has just taken off from Wellington airport.
My timing was good: just as I got to the windmill, the southerly buster arrived, sweeping in over Cook Strait. I was hoping some thunderstorm-like activity would brew, but nothing developed. However, I did get some reasonable photos over the harbour and the strait as the front arrived. In the last one you can see a plane that has just taken off from Wellington airport.
Monday, January 26, 2009
The Winding Road to the Airport
OK, so here are the reasons why Wellington's aiport bus service is much worse than it needs to be.
1. As mentioned in the previous post, you can almost run from the city to the aiport in the time the bus takes to get there. Contributing to this is the 5 or 6 minutes it can take to crawl down Courtenay Place during busy times. This is a problem with the wider transport system and city layout, which is kind of off limits for this post. However, the real drag is the byzantine route the bus takes once it passes through the Mt Victoria tunnel.
Instead of continuing on the direct Cobham Drive-Calabar Road route, the bus veers off on a circumlocution through Kilbirnie, stopping to pick up and drop off local passengers, then takes a scenic loop around Lyall Bay and into the back entrance to the airport through a tunnel apparently explicitly designed for buses. The logic completely escapes me. Why must the airport bus act as a local shopping trolley when the area is already covered by several other services? Why would you build a special tunnel to open up a much slower route?
2. In addition to not being an express airport bus, this is not even a city to airport bus. Rather, it is an Upper Hutt to aiport bus, run by the same company which operates services in the Hutt Valley itself, and from the Hutt to the city. I'm presuming somebody thought this was an appropriate combination of routes when they were handing out concessions.
This means that the Flyer has to work its way in from the Hutt Valley, negotiating Wellington's fickle motorway traffic, and as a result is never ever on time. The half hour intervals it is supposed to arrive are pure fiction. From bitter experience, I've found that you must try to catch the bus before the one that will get you to the aiport to check in on time. When the orange no. 91 does show up, you usually have no way of knowing whether it's erratically early or lamentably late.
3. For all its problems, the bus does get you to and from the airport. Except when it stops running, which is well before the last planes of the evening. During the week, the last bus is at 8:30, while the flights run until nearly midnight. Arrive after this hour, as I have done several times, and you can take a shuttle, which when there is no bus competition will try to charge you at least $18 just to the city, or you can pay $30 for a taxi.
4. The one good point of the Airport Flyer used to be that it had nice spacious luggage racks in the front. Those lugging big backpacks or cumbersome suitcases could dispense with them after boarding and enjoy a reasonably comfortable seat. When I took my most recent trip, I got on to what I found was a slightly newer coach, with more seats, but no luggage rack. With the need to negotiate a steep step half way down the bus and battle along a narrow aisle, I and several other passengers stumbled, staggered, and nearly injured ourselves in the search for a seat.
Reluctant as I am to claim a conspiracy, it's hard to find another plausible explanation. The infrequency, unreliability and poor value of the aiport bus mainly benefits the shuttle services and the taxi companies. The airport company is also unlikely to be too concerned about poor public transport, as it can charge access to the shuttles and taxis, and makes money out of car parking.
But let's take a reality check. Aren't I making a big deal out of nothing here? Why should we care about a bus that runs to the airport, anyway? If you can afford to fly, you can afford to get a taxi, right?
I beg to differ. The airport is the gateway to the city, and is the first experience travellers have of a place. Backpackers, families visting relatives, and others on a budget also travel by air, and failure to offer decent public transport shows a fundamental disdain for their experiences. The $30 it takes to get a taxi into town is not a pittance: two week's coffee, several family meals, or a monthly internet package.
Furthermore, an important constituency of Wellington airport is business travellers and public servants. The fact that transport usually doesn't come from their pocket perhaps encourages the expectation that 'everyone just gets a taxi'. But with Wellington's compressed business district, a single route could easily serve almost all of these people. As economic times get tougher, aren't there potential savings here for taxpayers and shareholders?
In any case, the main point of this post was to point out the ways in which bad public transport is not the inevitable result of difficult geography, smaller population and lower GDP. The really frustrating things about the Wellington aiport service are the route, schedule and vehicles. If public transport is to be improved, these details would be a good place to start, which would at least demonstrate that the idea of a public service is taken half seriously.
Categories: New Zealand, Wellington,public transport,Brisbane,
1. As mentioned in the previous post, you can almost run from the city to the aiport in the time the bus takes to get there. Contributing to this is the 5 or 6 minutes it can take to crawl down Courtenay Place during busy times. This is a problem with the wider transport system and city layout, which is kind of off limits for this post. However, the real drag is the byzantine route the bus takes once it passes through the Mt Victoria tunnel.
Instead of continuing on the direct Cobham Drive-Calabar Road route, the bus veers off on a circumlocution through Kilbirnie, stopping to pick up and drop off local passengers, then takes a scenic loop around Lyall Bay and into the back entrance to the airport through a tunnel apparently explicitly designed for buses. The logic completely escapes me. Why must the airport bus act as a local shopping trolley when the area is already covered by several other services? Why would you build a special tunnel to open up a much slower route?
2. In addition to not being an express airport bus, this is not even a city to airport bus. Rather, it is an Upper Hutt to aiport bus, run by the same company which operates services in the Hutt Valley itself, and from the Hutt to the city. I'm presuming somebody thought this was an appropriate combination of routes when they were handing out concessions.
This means that the Flyer has to work its way in from the Hutt Valley, negotiating Wellington's fickle motorway traffic, and as a result is never ever on time. The half hour intervals it is supposed to arrive are pure fiction. From bitter experience, I've found that you must try to catch the bus before the one that will get you to the aiport to check in on time. When the orange no. 91 does show up, you usually have no way of knowing whether it's erratically early or lamentably late.
3. For all its problems, the bus does get you to and from the airport. Except when it stops running, which is well before the last planes of the evening. During the week, the last bus is at 8:30, while the flights run until nearly midnight. Arrive after this hour, as I have done several times, and you can take a shuttle, which when there is no bus competition will try to charge you at least $18 just to the city, or you can pay $30 for a taxi.
4. The one good point of the Airport Flyer used to be that it had nice spacious luggage racks in the front. Those lugging big backpacks or cumbersome suitcases could dispense with them after boarding and enjoy a reasonably comfortable seat. When I took my most recent trip, I got on to what I found was a slightly newer coach, with more seats, but no luggage rack. With the need to negotiate a steep step half way down the bus and battle along a narrow aisle, I and several other passengers stumbled, staggered, and nearly injured ourselves in the search for a seat.
Reluctant as I am to claim a conspiracy, it's hard to find another plausible explanation. The infrequency, unreliability and poor value of the aiport bus mainly benefits the shuttle services and the taxi companies. The airport company is also unlikely to be too concerned about poor public transport, as it can charge access to the shuttles and taxis, and makes money out of car parking.
But let's take a reality check. Aren't I making a big deal out of nothing here? Why should we care about a bus that runs to the airport, anyway? If you can afford to fly, you can afford to get a taxi, right?
I beg to differ. The airport is the gateway to the city, and is the first experience travellers have of a place. Backpackers, families visting relatives, and others on a budget also travel by air, and failure to offer decent public transport shows a fundamental disdain for their experiences. The $30 it takes to get a taxi into town is not a pittance: two week's coffee, several family meals, or a monthly internet package.
Furthermore, an important constituency of Wellington airport is business travellers and public servants. The fact that transport usually doesn't come from their pocket perhaps encourages the expectation that 'everyone just gets a taxi'. But with Wellington's compressed business district, a single route could easily serve almost all of these people. As economic times get tougher, aren't there potential savings here for taxpayers and shareholders?
In any case, the main point of this post was to point out the ways in which bad public transport is not the inevitable result of difficult geography, smaller population and lower GDP. The really frustrating things about the Wellington aiport service are the route, schedule and vehicles. If public transport is to be improved, these details would be a good place to start, which would at least demonstrate that the idea of a public service is taken half seriously.
Categories: New Zealand, Wellington,public transport,Brisbane,
Saturday, January 24, 2009
The Public Transport Gap
When I was in better shape and used to go for longer runs, it took me about 30 minutes to make my way from Te Papa on the Wellington waterfront to the roundabout at the end of Cobham Drive, from where it's only another few minutes to the international aiport (though my route didn't take me that way).When I recently took the bus from central Wellington to the airport to fly south for Christmas, the ironically-named Airport Flyer took roughly 35 minutes to cover the same distance.
Brisbane's airport is around twice the distance to its city centre as Wellington's, but when I landed there on my way to visit my girlfriend Paola, the trip downtown in the express train took hardly a quarter of an hour.
[Cost of 35-minute ride in bumpy, claustrophobic bus that was a quarter hour late: $6.50
Cost of 15-minute journey in smooth, comfortable, air-conditioned express train that swished up to the platform exactly on schedule: $14]
Every time I go to Australia I get a fresh reminder of how much better their urban public transport is than ours. I only know Melbourne and Brisbane, but I'm reliably informed that Sydney and Adelaide also have excellent public transport for their respective sizes.
Brisbane has six to eight train lines (depending on how you count) spidering out from the city, and linking the Sunshine Coast to the Gold Coast. Its bus network is supported by dedicated busways that run north, south and east of the centre. And while Melbourne has its trams as a showpiece, Brisbane has its ferries.
The 'City Cats' are fast, rakish-looking vessels that trek their way along the inner-city route between the University of Queensland and Apollo Rd near the mouth of the Brisbane river. They have rows of comfortable seats inside, with a big screen showing news and weather. But in all but the most inclement weather, most people prefer to sit outside on the front and back decks, taking in the views and the breeze. The trip along the river is so pleasant that many tourists (including yours truly) ride up and down and treat it as a pleasure cruise.
The great thing is that all services are linked under the Queensland government's TransLink umbrella, enabling a single ticket to take you across all the different transport modes and allowing steep discounts on bulk purchases. For example, just $23 buys a weekly ticket that will give you unlimited travel on any train, bus or ferry within zones 1 and 2 (an area at least the size of Wellington City and Lower Hutt combined).
Compare this with the motley collection of transport providers in the Wellington area and the stingy deals on offer. There are no weekly tickets; the best you can do is a monthly ticket for about $100 for either bus or train, covering about the equivalent area of Brisbane's zones 1 and 2. There are only a couple of combined bus and train offers with very limited conditions, and the Eastbourne and Seatoun ferries are right out of the picture.
I'm also doing Wellington the favour of pretending to compare like with like. To be fair we should note the rather more modern, fast and comfortable nature of Brisbane's transport. The train and ferry services are also supported by an entire infrastructure of stations with broad platforms, seating, shelter, ticket machines, water fountains, and route and timetable maps. Most of the train stations even have staff.
My uncle and aunt who live in Brisbane say that the public transport has been rather neglected over the years, the congestion on the artertial routes is terrible, and the local government is trying to address the problems through misguided, delayed, poorly organised attempts to build more highways. That sounds pretty familiar: I guess everything is relative.
At this point, defenders of the New Zealand status quo will point out the differences in geography, population and economics that mean public transport just can't reach the same standards as in Australian cities. With 1.9 million people, Brisbane is larger than any New Zealand city, while Sydney and Melbourne are much larger and denser again. They also all sit on large areas of relatively flat land, allowing transport to be organised in an efficient, hub-and-spokes system. And of course, Australia is 'richer' than us and can spend more -- though I would point out that Queensland is not one of the wealthiest states and the per-capita income is probably not dissimilar to Wellington, New Zealand's richest place.
I remain convinced that public transport can be a lot better in New Zealand's largest cities, and that its current state is as much a result of attitudes as of intrinsic limitations. But let's accept for argument's sake that we can't match Australia. I can still make a case that the Wellington airport route is a special embarassment. That will be the topic of the next post.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Fireworks in Welllington
From the November 5 Guy Fawke's Day display over Wellington Harbour, taken from the top of the cable car.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Party Politics and International Relations
A couple of weeks ago, Simon, Noam and I decided to have a party. No particular reason, just felt like the right thing to do. Unlike at our previous party, there was no piano-playing at 2:00am -- which would have pleased the neighbours -- but a generally good time was had by all.
Later we worked out that there were representatives from at least twelve other countries besides New Zealand at the party: China, England, India, Iran, Israel, Germany, Lithuania, the Netherlands, Malaysia, Peru, Sweden, and Uruguay. And then there was the unfortunate absence (for various reasons) of good friends or recent or future visitors from Australia, Colombia, Ireland, Russia, and the United States.
The cosmopolitan nature of the gathering was hardly a surprise, given that we live in Wellington and work in the academic and government sectors. But it made me think of an interesting twist on the 'pointy-heads and bureaucrats who suck up our taxpayer dollars' rant that predominates in New Zealand.
Sure, we might be unproductive, office-bound stuffed shirts who don't milk cows or drive trucks and therefore don't contribute to the economy. But given that less than ten per cent of New Zealand businesses export, and our participation in the world economy has actually dropped in the last ten years (unlike all other OECD countries), if it wasn't for academia and the public service, would we even have any international relations?.
Photos from the party:
The early arrivals sat around for a civilized chat.
But as always, the action eventually moved to party central: the kitchen.
My Peruvian friends were convinced to leave their Kiwi husbands at home for a quarter share of a 350 ml bottle of the legendary Inka Kola that I had smuggled back from their home country.
Ginny completes the double of making it into the society pages of the Dominion Post and South America Bidsta in the same month.
The Lithuanian contingent were among the most festive.
But what did Noam see lurking behind the photographer....?
Later we worked out that there were representatives from at least twelve other countries besides New Zealand at the party: China, England, India, Iran, Israel, Germany, Lithuania, the Netherlands, Malaysia, Peru, Sweden, and Uruguay. And then there was the unfortunate absence (for various reasons) of good friends or recent or future visitors from Australia, Colombia, Ireland, Russia, and the United States.
The cosmopolitan nature of the gathering was hardly a surprise, given that we live in Wellington and work in the academic and government sectors. But it made me think of an interesting twist on the 'pointy-heads and bureaucrats who suck up our taxpayer dollars' rant that predominates in New Zealand.
Sure, we might be unproductive, office-bound stuffed shirts who don't milk cows or drive trucks and therefore don't contribute to the economy. But given that less than ten per cent of New Zealand businesses export, and our participation in the world economy has actually dropped in the last ten years (unlike all other OECD countries), if it wasn't for academia and the public service, would we even have any international relations?.
Photos from the party:
The early arrivals sat around for a civilized chat.
But as always, the action eventually moved to party central: the kitchen.
My Peruvian friends were convinced to leave their Kiwi husbands at home for a quarter share of a 350 ml bottle of the legendary Inka Kola that I had smuggled back from their home country.
Ginny completes the double of making it into the society pages of the Dominion Post and South America Bidsta in the same month.
The Lithuanian contingent were among the most festive.
But what did Noam see lurking behind the photographer....?
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Dawn Choruses
The good news: when Wellington composer Nic MacGowan broadcast a 25-minue "futuristic concert" consisting of wailing sounds dubbed the Synth Birds of Dawn, at 6:30 am from the hills surrounding Island Bay, at least eleven people complained to noise control.
It's heartening that people are now prepared to demand the same respect for peace in the morning hours, as in the evening.
On the other hand, McGowan was clearly unrepentant, and of the view that complaints were driven by mere philistinism. He appeared on the front page of the Dominion Post, defiant on a hilltop beside his Dawn Synth machine. The sounds had apparently been inspired by the dawn chorus and, god forbid, church bells.
The synthesizers and speakers on three hilltops were intended to create "soft creature-like tones" across the valley. "We were basically playing Island Bay like an instrument" he said. "it was an incredible sound, you get all these slapback echoes".
Right on. But get this, dude. At 6:30 am, many people are bloody well sleeping. I wouldn't care if it were the choirs of seraphim themselves that were singing - my response would be the same as when the unidentified council contractor chose 6:55 am as a good time to clean up the verge outside my window with a weedeater the other day.
In our rather frantic modern existence, sleep is a rare, precious commodity. And for me, and I suspect quite a few others, it is sweetest of all in the early hours of the morning. As much as we try and squeeze ourselves into the 9-5 mould demanded by this society, our metabolisms know better. You early risers are welcome to leap out of bed before the crack of dawn - but please, give us the same respect as we do to you when you stagger off to bed bleary-eyed at 10pm.
The upshot of the compaints were that McGowan decided to shift the time of his second "concert" planned for the following morning - to 7:30 am. I'm just glad I live very far away from Island Bay.
In the end, though, I understand his creative urges. So I'd like to pass this message to the misunderstood composer:
Nic, I too was disappointed that many Island Bay residents failed to appreciate your futuristic and innovative concert the other morning. I appreciate what you were trying to do.
You see, I'm an aspiring experimental musician too. Right now I'm interested in the sounds created by the interaction of organic and industrial objects. One thing I'd like to do is take a stick, a piece of driftwood, maybe, and run it up and down the colorsteel roof of a house. The driftwood the bow; the roof the instrument. A meeting of the driftwood's weathered curves, shaped by wind and tide, with the rigidly corrugated, industrial surface of the steel. You know?
Nic, can I come over and do it at your place? I would "play" your house. I'll be over to do a 30 -minute concert, ok? Starting at 11:30 pm on Tuesday night?
Categories: Wellington, noise, sleep
It's heartening that people are now prepared to demand the same respect for peace in the morning hours, as in the evening.
On the other hand, McGowan was clearly unrepentant, and of the view that complaints were driven by mere philistinism. He appeared on the front page of the Dominion Post, defiant on a hilltop beside his Dawn Synth machine. The sounds had apparently been inspired by the dawn chorus and, god forbid, church bells.
The synthesizers and speakers on three hilltops were intended to create "soft creature-like tones" across the valley. "We were basically playing Island Bay like an instrument" he said. "it was an incredible sound, you get all these slapback echoes".
Right on. But get this, dude. At 6:30 am, many people are bloody well sleeping. I wouldn't care if it were the choirs of seraphim themselves that were singing - my response would be the same as when the unidentified council contractor chose 6:55 am as a good time to clean up the verge outside my window with a weedeater the other day.
In our rather frantic modern existence, sleep is a rare, precious commodity. And for me, and I suspect quite a few others, it is sweetest of all in the early hours of the morning. As much as we try and squeeze ourselves into the 9-5 mould demanded by this society, our metabolisms know better. You early risers are welcome to leap out of bed before the crack of dawn - but please, give us the same respect as we do to you when you stagger off to bed bleary-eyed at 10pm.
The upshot of the compaints were that McGowan decided to shift the time of his second "concert" planned for the following morning - to 7:30 am. I'm just glad I live very far away from Island Bay.
In the end, though, I understand his creative urges. So I'd like to pass this message to the misunderstood composer:
Nic, I too was disappointed that many Island Bay residents failed to appreciate your futuristic and innovative concert the other morning. I appreciate what you were trying to do.
You see, I'm an aspiring experimental musician too. Right now I'm interested in the sounds created by the interaction of organic and industrial objects. One thing I'd like to do is take a stick, a piece of driftwood, maybe, and run it up and down the colorsteel roof of a house. The driftwood the bow; the roof the instrument. A meeting of the driftwood's weathered curves, shaped by wind and tide, with the rigidly corrugated, industrial surface of the steel. You know?
Nic, can I come over and do it at your place? I would "play" your house. I'll be over to do a 30 -minute concert, ok? Starting at 11:30 pm on Tuesday night?
Categories: Wellington, noise, sleep
Monday, May 16, 2005
Further Investigation Reveals That...
In Wellington a business has to apply for a licence to use part of a footpath area. One of the requirements is to have public liability insurance of at least $1 million. If alcohol will be served, a further application is required to include the outside area in the premise's liquor licence.
In central Wellington, there is the added snag of Consolidated Bylaw 23.2.1, which prohibits the consumption of liquor in public areas of the central city between 8pm and 6am, Friday and Saturday. The city Council's information on applying for use of footpaths warns that, without the appropriate licence, "your patrons may be in breach" of this prohibition.
The council's "On the Town" food safety and environment newsletter for December 2004 - sounding rather like an Indian mother advising her daughter how to catch a husband - provides some insight into its expectations:
In another section, more detail is provided about who can serve drinks outside:
Aha! So now we have some insight into what rules Kitty O'Sheas might have fallen foul of. You're left wondering whether there were not "processes in place" to clear dishes and glasses, leaving the area "unkempt" and "messy" (though this pretty much describes Courtenay Pl on a Friday anyway). Or did their area "suddenly increase in size without approval"? A brief local distortion in space-time, perhaps, that hadn't been vetted by the council's envorinmental safety team?
Either way, you can now be unkempt, drunk, messy, disorderly, suddenly increase in size, or all of these simultaneously, and you can even do it outside Kitty O' Sheas. You just can't sit down quietly at a table with your drink.
Land of the free...?
For example, in Vermont, women must obtain written permission from their husbands to wear false teeth. In Montana, it's illegal for unmarried women to go fishing alone. And...in Texas, it's illegal to take more than three sips of beer at a time while standing.
In Wellington a business has to apply for a licence to use part of a footpath area. One of the requirements is to have public liability insurance of at least $1 million. If alcohol will be served, a further application is required to include the outside area in the premise's liquor licence.
In central Wellington, there is the added snag of Consolidated Bylaw 23.2.1, which prohibits the consumption of liquor in public areas of the central city between 8pm and 6am, Friday and Saturday. The city Council's information on applying for use of footpaths warns that, without the appropriate licence, "your patrons may be in breach" of this prohibition.
The council's "On the Town" food safety and environment newsletter for December 2004 - sounding rather like an Indian mother advising her daughter how to catch a husband - provides some insight into its expectations:
Providing a good look
With summer officially here, we will see a lot more outdoor dining on our streets...
With summer officially here, we will see a lot more outdoor dining on our streets...
...It is important for the image of both your business and Wellington City that these outside dining areas are kept in a clean and inviting state. The Council’s Environmental Health Team often field complaints from the public about the untidy condition of outside dining areas, unkempt tables and messy surroundings. Customers will get an impression of your business by the way the outside area looks. You should ensure that you clear tables promptly and keep the area around tables and chairs clean and tidy. Making your business attractive helps keep the city attractive.
In another section, more detail is provided about who can serve drinks outside:
Pavement permissions in the liquor ban area
A number of premises have been granted permission by the District Licensing Agency to have tables and chairs on the pavement. This enables customers to enjoy alfresco dining as well as accommodating smokers when the Smokefree legislation comes into force on Friday 10 December 2004. There are a few monitoring issues that should be considered while your patrons are utilising the pavement area.
These include:
A number of premises have been granted permission by the District Licensing Agency to have tables and chairs on the pavement. This enables customers to enjoy alfresco dining as well as accommodating smokers when the Smokefree legislation comes into force on Friday 10 December 2004. There are a few monitoring issues that should be considered while your patrons are utilising the pavement area.
These include:
- which staff are responsible for ensuring that persons are not intoxicated or minors are not being supplied liquor in the outdoor area
- whether processes are in place to ensure that dirty dishes and glasses are cleared regularly and any rubbish such as serviettes, cigarettes and dirty ashtrays are removed so they don’t litter the footpath and street
- whether signs or information are available to customers using the pavement area to ensure that liquor is not
removed from that area other than going into the actual premises.
The last point is particularly important because of the liquor ban that is in force in the central city on Friday and Saturday nights until 6am the following day. The approved outdoor area does not contravene the liquor ban area, however, should your area suddenly increase in size without approval or customers leave the area with their drinks, then this would be a breach of the ban.
Either way, you can now be unkempt, drunk, messy, disorderly, suddenly increase in size, or all of these simultaneously, and you can even do it outside Kitty O' Sheas. You just can't sit down quietly at a table with your drink.
Land of the free...?
But if you assume that excessive regulation and the interfering/nannying/etc state is a recent phenomenon, it's instructive to read about these 19th-century laws which have survived on the statute books in various states of the U.S.
For example, in Vermont, women must obtain written permission from their husbands to wear false teeth. In Montana, it's illegal for unmarried women to go fishing alone. And...in Texas, it's illegal to take more than three sips of beer at a time while standing.
Ahhh, so that's where the practice of lying down drinking out of the hose from the beer keg came from...
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Anti-social Outdoor Furniture...
Last night Simon Doherty and I went to have a drink at Kitty O'Sheas on Courtenay Place, one of the few Wellington bars which has remained more or less its dingy, democratic self over the years. It's always been a good place to sit and have a few pints of Guiness and argue verbosely about the possibility of a Kantian ethics or the author-character relationship in Martin Amis novels.
Going into the bar we noticed that the pavement outside the bar was empty; the sidewalk chairs and tables were missing. That seemed a little odd, but we didn't think anything further of it as it was a chilly evening anyway. We bought a couple of pints and, after a bit, it was time for a cigarette. This of course now means leaving the bar, and we were starting to walk out the door when the doorman blocked our way and said we couldn't take our drinks outside. The bar has apparently lost its licence for its outside area, which explained the lack of tables and chairs on the sidewalk.
We asked what had happened, and he shrugged. Apparently the bar had to reapply for that aspect of their licence, and it was denied because the outside seating area had reportedly been an "obstruction" or an "anoyance" to passers-by. We struggled to imagine how serious this could have been. The bar had seemingly not been guilty of any major offenses such as repeatedly serving under age drinkers or intoxicated people, or fomenting significant antisocial behaviour, since this should have jeopardised its principal licence.
Was it a question of overly jovial patrons hailing passers-by and making a nuisance of themselves? Again, it's hard to imagine how serious the problem could have been. Courtenay Place on a Friday is a colourful and seedy boardwalk of sloppily drunk people, at times a bit feral occasionally amusing, generally a little depressing. If you don't like it, you avoid it, which these days I mostly do. The part near the Cambridge Tce end where Kittys is located is probably a little more civilzed and adult than the other end; there are fewer teenagers, and Kittys itself tends to attract an elcectic crowd including a mix of international tourists. I struggle to see how people sitting at tables outside one of the more relaxed bars could be a threat or a disturbance amidst the wider ambience.
It also seems unlikely that obstructing the thoroughfare was an issue. Other bars and cafes in the same area have outdoor tables, and the tables at Kittys always left plenty of space for people to go through. If it was a problem, they could always have required the bar to move their tables, rather than banning them.
But, whatever the reason for the heavy-handed ruling, you now can't smoke inside and can't take your drink outside. The doorman , who initially said we would have to leave our drinks on the windowsill and "keep an eye on them" while we were outside, took pity on us and opened the large window. This meant we could sip from our drinks sitting on the windowsill (technically inside) while we had a cigarette in the fresh air.
It was a nice temporary solution, but we still left feeling depressed at the increasing encroachment of regulation which, in the name of the health and morality of the community, seems to be gradually eroding the few simple pleasures we're still permitted to indulge in.
Last night Simon Doherty and I went to have a drink at Kitty O'Sheas on Courtenay Place, one of the few Wellington bars which has remained more or less its dingy, democratic self over the years. It's always been a good place to sit and have a few pints of Guiness and argue verbosely about the possibility of a Kantian ethics or the author-character relationship in Martin Amis novels.
Going into the bar we noticed that the pavement outside the bar was empty; the sidewalk chairs and tables were missing. That seemed a little odd, but we didn't think anything further of it as it was a chilly evening anyway. We bought a couple of pints and, after a bit, it was time for a cigarette. This of course now means leaving the bar, and we were starting to walk out the door when the doorman blocked our way and said we couldn't take our drinks outside. The bar has apparently lost its licence for its outside area, which explained the lack of tables and chairs on the sidewalk.
We asked what had happened, and he shrugged. Apparently the bar had to reapply for that aspect of their licence, and it was denied because the outside seating area had reportedly been an "obstruction" or an "anoyance" to passers-by. We struggled to imagine how serious this could have been. The bar had seemingly not been guilty of any major offenses such as repeatedly serving under age drinkers or intoxicated people, or fomenting significant antisocial behaviour, since this should have jeopardised its principal licence.
Was it a question of overly jovial patrons hailing passers-by and making a nuisance of themselves? Again, it's hard to imagine how serious the problem could have been. Courtenay Place on a Friday is a colourful and seedy boardwalk of sloppily drunk people, at times a bit feral occasionally amusing, generally a little depressing. If you don't like it, you avoid it, which these days I mostly do. The part near the Cambridge Tce end where Kittys is located is probably a little more civilzed and adult than the other end; there are fewer teenagers, and Kittys itself tends to attract an elcectic crowd including a mix of international tourists. I struggle to see how people sitting at tables outside one of the more relaxed bars could be a threat or a disturbance amidst the wider ambience.
It also seems unlikely that obstructing the thoroughfare was an issue. Other bars and cafes in the same area have outdoor tables, and the tables at Kittys always left plenty of space for people to go through. If it was a problem, they could always have required the bar to move their tables, rather than banning them.
But, whatever the reason for the heavy-handed ruling, you now can't smoke inside and can't take your drink outside. The doorman , who initially said we would have to leave our drinks on the windowsill and "keep an eye on them" while we were outside, took pity on us and opened the large window. This meant we could sip from our drinks sitting on the windowsill (technically inside) while we had a cigarette in the fresh air.
It was a nice temporary solution, but we still left feeling depressed at the increasing encroachment of regulation which, in the name of the health and morality of the community, seems to be gradually eroding the few simple pleasures we're still permitted to indulge in.
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