Download - New Zealand Automobile Association

TRAVELLERA Weekend In CubaKarl Puschmann attempts to spend an entireweekend getaway on a single streetTHE VERY FIRST thing wedo is break the rules.We’d embraced thechallenge of spending aweekend getaway solelyon one road – the bohemian Mecca ofWellington’s Cuba Street – and, barely20 minutes after landing, we fail.Our downfall comes served on aplate, lightly toasted and topped withtomato, basil and melted mozzarella.Our downfall is a crumpet. Ourdownfall is delicious.We spy Crumpet en route to ourhotel. This small art deco café isattached to the Opera House onManners Street and its nostalgiccharm instantly appeals, as does thepromise of its homemade crumpets.They do not disappoint, being thick,light and scrummy. I wolf two – onesavoury, one sweet – and wash themdown with a frothy lime shake.Afterwards, as we make our wayuptown, we successfully argue thatas we hadn’t yet arrived on Cuba,we hadn’t technically brokenthe rules. We determine to throwourselves back into the challengewith renewed conviction.A restless energy envelops CubaStreet this Friday evening. Thehustle and bustle of the businesssuitedafter-work crowd mingles withstudents and the strained warblingof the occasional busker. People aresipping pints in pubs or barrelingtowards bus stops, the weather notencouraging loitering. We join thefracas, ducking into the first barthat’s not too crammed.The rainbow dance floor tiles inthe entrance, the disco balls andthe Village People pumping on thestereo should have provided clueswe’d walked straight into a gay bar.We just thought we were walkinginto a cosy bar that played atrociousmusic. By the time we realize, we’recommitted to staying. We order drinksand shake our heads in disbelief“The less inhibitedmarket goers join thebongo circle, jerkingawkwardly in a roughapproximation ofdance.“that we hadn’t clicked after seeingthe name of the bar: Scotty & Mal’sCocktail Lounge. S&M for short.In the office on Monday I will relaytales of gastronomical bravery to acolleague who is a gourmand. I’llspeak of ordering offal and she’llbe impressed and ask what I ate.With a small note of pride I’ll reply“beef cheek” and she’ll laugh whilelaunching into an explanation ofwhy cheek is not offal. But, that’s stilla couple of days away. For now I’mnervously pushing a thin crispy sliverof a cow’s cheek around my plate atWellington’s long-established culturalcapital of hip, the Matterhorn. Themenu informs me that the cheek’sbeen drizzled in yuzu dressing, butI don’t know what a yuzu is, so that’slittle comfort. Determined to be moreadventurous, I slowly raise the cheekto my mouth and take a bite…Feeling full of culinary courage, wehit the neighbouring Left Bank nightmarkets in search of a sweet treat fordessert. The damp hasn’t deterred adecent crowd from milling around andneither has the folk singer murderingMadonna’s ‘Material Girl’ near itsalleyway entrance. As we wander,a growing commotion near the far exitcommands our attention. Turns out it’sa bunch of bongo players whoppingand a-hollering and banging theirdrums. The less inhibited – or possiblymore intoxicated – of the marketgoers join the bongo circle, jerkingawkwardly in a rough approximationof dance, but most just head-nod tothe rhythm before chucking somecoins into the group’s donation hatand continuing on.We wake to a very wet Saturday,but the deluge does not wash awaymy partner’s enthusiasm for whatshe’s gleefully titled ‘shopping day’.I voice the usual manly protestations,but happily join her in dashingfrom shop to shop through Cuba’svast array of vintage stores. Theretro furniture tucked upstairsin Hunters & Collectors has usconcocting increasingly ridiculoustransportation plans; we try on andput back expensive winter coats inPHOTOGRAPHY: HAYLEY BARNETT64 AA Directions Winter 2013