An apology to Dunedin
Dunedin, I owe you an apology. For years I viewed you as a bit of a feral place, where uni students, aka ‘scarfies’, go to get drunk in public and burn couches, and where the Bain family murders took place in the 90s.
In my mind, you had nothing else to offer.
Even Six60 rising to fame and putting Castle St on the map didn’t change my opinion, which, and I don’t say this proudly, had formed without even visiting you.
It was hypocritical of me, especially coming from New Plymouth, which people always confuse with Palmerston North and wonder why the hell anyone would live here. (The mountain and the ocean, that’s why.)
But anyway, friends would move to Dunedin for reasons other than university and I would wonder why. I never understood.
That is until I walked your streets.
Visiting Dunedin for the first time last month I was blown away. Gobsmacked.
Bamboozled. Every other word that comes up for shocked in the thesaurus – I was that.
You. Are. Stunning. Has anyone ever told you that?
Your architecture? Woah. Beaches? Amazing. The cool shopping and coffee spots? Next level.
In parts, it didn’t even feel like New Zealand.
My husband and I have a bit of a rating system when it comes to visiting new cities and picking our favourites. Other people probably do it too, but hey, they’re not writing this letter.
It’s the livability test, and we know a city has got us by the heartstrings if we utter the words ‘I could live here’.
And let me tell you, Dunners, we uttered those words within minutes.
I could picture myself living in a villa, wandering through the Botanic Garden regularly, cycling through your lovely flat streets, except Baldwin, obviously.
I’ve told people constantly since visiting what a surprise you were and how much I loved you.
I devoured your Wikipedia page and even watched a Grand Designs episode about a couple who have bought and renovated a bunch of heritage buildings to stop them from being destroyed.
Cities need people like that because those Edwardian style buildings are all part of your charm.
Of course, there’s still Castle St, a street dedicated to student flats, but I think it adds to your charm.
It’s a university and lifestyle unparalleled by any other learning institution in the country, and to be honest I totally see the appeal in burning a couch.
I’m sure the fact it was an absolutely stunning day with blue skies and not one bit of wind, rather than absolutely bucketing down, would have played a major part in the connection I felt with you.
But hey, now you’ve got an advocate for life.