I don't want to go back to the mountain. I've only been in this city 24 hours and already I feel the tug of just wanting to stay. A stab of homesickness struck me when I visited Te Papa's wee 'Scots in NZ' exhibition. I consider myself one of those, and it was interesting to explore the history of the migrations and to hear testimonies from Scots who've moved here at various points.
I still can't see myself living in NZ longterm. All the Brits who've immigrated here make me feel like that's something wrong. I don't know how much of it is my subconsciously not letting myself get too attached to the country, because I'm not sure how I'd deal with the concept of settling so far from home, family and friends. However, I've been slowly learning to accept gut feeling and not to try and over-analyse things to the point of ridicule.
I do love Wellington though, and I don't want to go back to the mountain. But leave I must. For now...
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