Gilmore Girls, Schitt’s Creek, even The Vampire Diaries – they’re all set in tight-knit neighbourhoods where everyone knows everyone. So what is it like to actually know your neighbours?

My favourite television shows are set in tight-knit neighbourhoods where everyone knows everyone. Characters attend town meetings where they debate local issues, spend time in shared public spaces and have energy leftover to stick their noses in each other’s business. 

But my family has lived in the same area for 16 years and, beyond the people I went to school with, I can’t say I know my community very well. Being actively involved takes more time than most people have to spare. 

Since becoming unemployed, however, I am not most people. 

And so, I challenged myself to spend two weeks immersed in my home town of Johnsonville, Wellington – the suburb perhaps best known for its dying mall. 

I start by making conversation with people in stores: the man who owns the cookware shop I love to mooch in; the girl I went to intermediate with who served me at Burger Fuel; and the guy at the Johnsonville Dairy who accidentally gave me an extra TNT lolly. 

I spend ages yarning about the joys of crafting to a woman who works at The Spot, which sells incredible handmade goods for ridiculously cheap. She tells me she is one of over 40 people who contribute to the co-op. I tell her it’s my favourite store in Johnsonville and we take turns fawning over the racks of intricate doll clothes. It’s the most heartwarming conversation I’ve had with a stranger in a while, one I would’ve normally cut short if I had places to be. 

For two weeks, I regularly visit the library inside Waitohi, our shiny new-ish community hub, to read and people-watch. When I feel like rotting on my couch, I drag myself to the library to rot there instead and it makes me feel less alone. 

One afternoon, a staff member talks me through how to use the Hive, a room kitted out with 3D printers and sewing machines that I get excited to use. On another occasion, I follow the library’s activity calendar and show up for a scheduled colouring-in session, only to find I’m the only person who remembered it was happening. I sit on a high chair and colour by myself for an hour and a half before accepting it as a flop. 

Instead of spending my Friday evening hanging out in town, I drag my high school friend Amberleigh to Johnsonville’s Keith Spry Pool, where I learned to swim in primary school. We do wobbly underwater handstands, watch kids squabble over floaty toys and laugh. I feel extra brave so I test out the diving pool for the first time and realise the bottom doesn’t seem so far away anymore. 

We then stop by 1841 for a frozen margarita and I regret not having visited the restaurant in years because I immediately get a kick out of its Johnsonville-themed decor and the menu which boldly dubs the suburb “J-Vegas”. 

In the second week, I watch my local Toastmasters’ annual speech competition at the Johnsonville Community Centre and make friends with the mum sitting next to me.  

People decades older than me share their coming out stories, the pros and cons of a bucket list and the urge to build a time machine. Some have a nervous tremor while others perform with bravado. Between speeches they ask me to stand up and introduce myself, and everyone listens to me just as respectfully. 

It strikes me that people are living full lives inside buildings I walk past every day without a second thought.

The next day, I join a group that meets weekly to combat loneliness. We start by sharing our whakapapa and talking about how the past week has been. Then I sit back and fight the urge to giggle as the ragtag bunch debates whether Lady Gaga is evil and if the popular “Out of Africa” evolution theory means we’re all technically African.

Things get icky when two members launch into a sales pitch about how rich we could be if we all become door-to-door salespeople. It’s a shame because I was having fun, but my patience wears thin so I leave. 

I make an effort to be active in my community online as well. 

My Google review for the Johnsonville Shopping Centre starts with “look, it has the necessities…” while my five-star rating of gift store Welly Collective’s Johnsonville branch gets an appreciative reply from the owner. 

I also join a bunch of gifting groups on Facebook and gleefully give away books, a chocolate fountain and a cupcake ferris wheel. 

Then there’s all the random shit I do just because I have the time.

• I email Woolworths to figure out why my local supermarket’s soft plastics bin disappeared for a while and am assured it was a temporary issue, likely due to cleaning or a shortage of bags. 
• I stop by a spirituality expo and watch vendors sell crystals and read tarot. 
• I whip out my phone and Google image-search an unfamiliar fruiting bush I’ve spotted on the walk home, identifying it as the poisonous poroporo plant and steering clear of it. 
• I submit carefully considered feedback on Wellington City Council’s proposals for a new playground in Johnsonville, poring over the documents for each design and arguing why option two is superior. 

Every random side quest is a feather in my hat, an invisible badge of honour that says “I am one with Johnsonville”. 

On the last official day of my experiment, I buy an iced matcha from the newly reopened cafe Refresh Espresso and congratulate them on their comeback before rushing over to the community centre’s Wednesday afternoon board games session. 

I arrive late and all the retirees there are engrossed in games I’ve never played. A pair of women battling it out in Rummikub allow me to sit and watch their game in silence, insisting they have to leave soon and telling me to return next week if I want to learn myself. 

But generosity gets the better of them and soon they start drip feeding me rules and strategies. I’m invited to play a new round with them, and then another. Playing against them demands my full focus and my cheeks warm from all the praise they give me for being a quick learner. 

When we finally pack up, I realise my new friends stayed an hour longer than they said they would for a girl they’d never met before.

I’ve lived in Johnsonville for so long, I assumed the best things it could offer me were basic shops and frequent buses out of the area. What’s worse, I assumed I had nothing to gain from getting to know the people here. The past two weeks showed me I was wrong on both fronts. Sure, Jville is far from the most exciting place in Wellington. But it’s also my home, and it’s worth being proud of. 

I probably won’t become a door-to-door salesperson any time soon but I just might rummage around second hand stores to see if I can get my hands on my very own Rummikub.