A city without a soul

Many of the buildings in Dunedin have faded logos from a bygone era. Bell Tea, however, is still going strong.

The heart and soul seems to have left Dunedin as soon as the uni holidays started at the end of last year. Walking along the streets, all there is to see are wandering tourist groups, remnants of big nights on the footpath and the true locals. Students are something which, I imagine breathe life and energy into Dunedin. As one bar maid said to me while doing the rounds of tourists sitting streetside catching what remains of the early evening sun – things start to pick up again at the end of February when the semester starts. No matter how beautifully historic Dunedin and the Otago peninsula are there does seem to be a hollowness; it’s a ghost town. I suppose that’s a natural side-effect to having a town built around and reliant on students. Forgive my ruminating, but I suppose I just need to come back when there are actually people here to get the most out of the city. 

The rest of Dunedin and the Otago Peninsula are, as I mentioned, beautifully historic. Churches made of stone and masonry, akin to their now lifeless brother in Christchurch, pierce the skyline with their spires and sit amongst other buildings of varying ages and sizes with faded logos which once stood as a shining beacon of the brands presence in the city. Now in their shells live other businesses. To the right of this rooftop garden where I write are old, dilapidated flats which have become a symbol of Dunedin thanks to popular culture. Don’t forget your roots, Dunedin band Six60 sing; the video showing haircuts in the backyard, makeshift half-pipes and someone transporting a keg of beer on a skateboard.

A drive out toward Otago peninsula brings you inches from the sea wall and around many a turn, but it’s beautiful if the mere glimpses out the window were anything to go by – I had to concentrate on the driving! The winding road takes you about 40 kilometres to the end of the peninsula where apparently you can see seals and other wildlife. I found it a bit too hair-raising to make it that far. Instead I decided to take the road to Larnach Castle, the only one in New Zealand. After three kilometres of steep, narrow and winding road I turn back around. It’s after 5pm and only the gardens are open says the man in the booth. “$12.50, if you want to see the gardens.” No thanks.

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