Harri Fletcher, the head chef at Everybody Eats in Wellington, New Zealand.

Can Wellington become the world’s first zero-waste capital?

Inside a busy kitchen on Dixon Street, the head chef at Everybody Eats is turning what most restaurants throw away into three-course meals. It is one corner of a much larger experiment: Wellington, New Zealand’s capital, is trying to become the world’s first zero-waste capital, and it is doing it so quietly that most visitors never notice. To arrive here now is to step into a living laboratory for sustainable travel, a place where being green means cutting waste, saving energy, and lowering emissions, often entirely behind the scenes. A pay-as-you-can restaurant where a homeless guest might share a table with the prime minister. Hotels that have swapped single-use plastics for refills. A community hub built around repair and reuse, and a national museum that folds zero-waste principles into everything it does. The city is betting that a greener way to travel can feel less like a sacrifice and more like simply walking its compact, cafe-lined streets, and that visitors who show up are part of proving it can work.

Danielle Shanahan, Zealandia’s CEO, shows a visitor the innovative fence surrounding the ecosanctuary in Wellington, New Zealand.

A New Zealand ecosanctuary with a 500-year plan to turn back the clock

A single mouse once redefined the borders of Zealandia. Researchers testing prototype fencing watched a rodent wrap its tail around a screw, swing its body, and haul itself over the top, a feat of gymnastics that helped engineers design the 5.3-mile barrier that now encircles this 556-acre valley above Wellington, New Zealand. Its team calls it the world’s first fully fenced urban ecosanctuary, an attempt to turn back the clock to a time before mammals ever reached these islands. For more than a century the valley supplied the capital’s drinking water, and before that it was scarred by failed gold mines and stripped for farmland. Now it is something stranger: a place where rare native birds and a reptile from the age of dinosaurs are returning, just a short cab ride from the city’s best coffee shops. But the sanctuary sits directly on a major fault line, and the woman who runs it is working toward a 500-year plan she knows she will never see completed.