Wellington was bustling; heaving even. Down on Queens Wharf, a New Zealand Harley Davidson convention was headquartered. If polished chrome, burning rubber, the deafening throb of an opened throttle happen to be your thing, then you would have been in hog heaven. Plenty of people were. The waterfront thronged with Easy Riders, with designer patches, contoured beer-bellies and elaborate tattoos.
Some were resident at the InterContinental, probably the poshest digs in town. The rebels of yesteryear with their Peter Fonda moustaches, Jack Nicholson devil-may-care attitudes and high-octane choppers have become fully paid up members of the Establishment - a good number of them worth a few bob, and content to pay it into the capital's coffers.
Their visit coincided with the Cuba St Carnival. After dinner, we ventured out to participate in the festivities. The streets around Courtney Pl and up along Cuba Mall were thronging with an animated crowd, engaged with the passing street parade. Patrons hung out of the balconies of pubs, bars and businesses. We drifted like flotsam on the tide of the estimated 150,000 punters - all ages and backgrounds enjoying the music, the ethnic street-stall food, and the festive atmosphere.
Nobody seemed overly intoxicated and the police were conspicuous by their absence.
A weekend or two earlier, thousands had congregated at the Caketin for the Rugby Sevens - many togged up in imaginative fancy dress. They looked as if they could have escaped from the concurrent fringe festival.
Across the road and down the way a magnificent Monet exhibition was drawing the crowds at Te Papa. Ubiquitous posters advertised a forthcoming jazz festival.
This sure has become a town that knows how to throw a street party.
It has matured and mellowed out of the idea that a "party" is a group of people in one place with more booze than they can possibly drink.
It has discovered that when there's an event to focus on, to enjoy, and to admire, people evidently don't feel the need to summon bravado from a bottle or blot the world out in an alcohol-induced haze.
It is also a city that plays to its strengths: its waterfront locations; its bustling inner-city restaurant and bar scene; its mix of ethnicities; its creative industries; and a population that comes out to enjoy life on its streets.
But it hasn't always been like this. The city's sense of community spirit has evolved with the encouragement and perseverance of individuals and farsighted public officials.
Dunedin is a wonderful city, too: in many respects it is similar to Wellington in the way it is draped around a harbour, its suburbs nestled in the surrounding slopes, its city centre contained and concentrated. It has the peninsula and top-shelf eco-tourism on its doorstep but, equally, communities of creative individuals from the fashion, music, art, theatre and film worlds that have always given the city an idiosyncratic character of its own. There is no shortage of bars and restaurants, either.
And then, of course, there is the university, which is the city's overriding asset: a hothouse of intellectual pursuit and learning, of academic endeavour and scientific research, and host to the 20,000 or so students who arrive to take up residence each year.
But apart from the annual orientation events - which are under way this week - and the passing out parades of the capping ceremonies, there continues to be a somewhat awkward embrace between town and gown, perhaps exaggerated by the friction of events such as the Undie 500.
Watching the floats in the Cuba St Carnival, a not entirely frivolous thought occurred to me. Why not embrace the creativity of such an event, formalise it, build it into a genuine celebration of the links between the city and the campus, enjoin it with, perhaps, the fringe festival which kicks off in a week or two but which could probably do with being a part of something larger.
Build it to coincide with id Fashion Week. Add a mini-whisky festival. And music, for which Dunedin is duly famous, food and dance - and for a week or so make it the only place to be in the entire country.
We have all the ingredients to be most exciting, public-spirited city in New Zealand - we just need to employ a little more drive and imagination.
• Simon Cunliffe is assistant editor at the Otago Daily Times.
