Pinto Dispatch: GREYMOUTH, NEW ZEALAND

Today's wire brings us a pensive dispatch from Pinto...



23 March 2005
GREYMOUTH, New Zealand

Straddling the mouth of the Grey River, Greymouth, at
14,000 strong, has the distinction of being the
biggest town on the South Island's west coast. I
arrived here on Tuesday, around 5 p.m. Upon wandering
the streets in search of New Zealand's national dish,
fish and chips, I noticed that there were no people
here. Everything was closed. It wasn't even six yet.
I resorted to buying something frozen from the
grocery store, where I also treated myself to a
six-pack of Tui (NZ$10).

One portion of chicken tikka masala with rice, and two
Tuis down, I hit the streets again just after dusk.
Near my hostel was Victoria Park Raceway. There was
no racing that night, but the gates were open and I
let myself in. The only sign of life was a small
trailer with a light inside so dim that it was almost
inperceivable through the thin curtains. Careful not
to make trouble for the caretaker, I made my way to
rail to get a better look at the track. Even on a
moonless night I could see how shabby the place was.
I found it all too eerie and quickly left.

My next stop was a bench by the river, with my
remaining Tuis in tow. There, I listened to classical
music on my little radio, undisturbed for one-and-a-
half beer's time. A stout, older fellow then
approached me and asked me something in a peculiar
and spastic way. He spoke English, but it took about
a dozen tries before I made out that he was asking if
I wanted to smoke some pot with him. I declined, but
invited him to sit down and smoke at his leisure. His
name was William and he was in Greymouth doing
insulation work. As to why the town was dead, he
explained, "Nobody gets their paycheck until Thursday.
Then Friday and Saturday--PLAAUUUGH!," (This was
accompanied by a bursting gesture of his hands and
arms.) "So the rest of the week, people gotta keep
to themselves." Soon thereafter, William left me "to
my contemplation," as he put it. And contemplate I
did, on the two Tuis left.

Taking the scenic route back to my hostel, I detected
some motion in my periphery. In a harshly-lit
shelter, near the prerequisite clock tower, was a
spider weaving its web. I watched it complete its
work. Then it crawled into a corner and began its
long wait.