A Kiwi Icon ... really

"In primeval New Zealand cabbage trees occupied a range of habitats, anywhere open, moist, fertile and warm enough for them to establish and mature: with forest; around the rocky coast; in lowland swamps, around the lakes and along the lower rivers; and perched on isolated rocks. Approaching the land from the sea would have reminded a Polynesian traveller of home, and for a European traveller, conjured up images of the tropical Pacific."  - Philip Simpson

I knew this was a shot I really wanted to hunt down while I was home in New Zealand. 

The Cabbage Tree is probably my favourite tree in the whole entire world ...and it has berries that attract exquisite native birds like the Bellbirds and Tuis.

I found these trees in front of Lake Taupo, up in the North Island, and wandered around it awhile, trying to work out just how to capture this New Zealand scene I so wanted to capture.

My Dad ...

I'm just back from 24 hours out at Dad's and it was grand.

He took Gert and I along to the local RSA, where he's president, and we were able to spend a lovely couple of reminiscing hours with people not seen in a long time.  My favourite, without doubt, was Mr Bertie Paul.  I can't even write his name without smiling.  He's 89 and as delightful as ever.

But mostly it was superb to finally catch up with my dad.  It's been far too long. 

And then one of my little brother's wandered in from Australia ... 14 years of not seeing Stephen was finally over.  He and Julie looked just the same.

It's been an almost overwhelming couple of weeks back in New Zealand, so far.  A time of incredible kindness from people not seen in so long.  And it continues, with stories still needing written.  But life goes on and I'm off out again soon.

Tot later, but in the meantime, meet my dad.

 

My Friend Fiona, and her Kiwi Bloke, Barry

I first met Fiona when we were 13 years old.  She was a Fairfield girl, I was a Mosgiel girl and somehow, during that first year in the district high school, we became friends.  And we've never stopped being friends in all the years in-between.  'Quite some' years, as some Belgians might say in English.

When Fiona and her Kiwi bloke, Barry,  first heard I was finally coming home after so long away they said, 'We'll find you a car for while you're here!'  And they did. 

Monday night and they invited us up to their place on the hill for a bit of roast lamb and a catch-up.  I should have known it might involve one of Barry's extraordinary inventions.  In this instance, it was a massive oven he'd built ... absolutely massive. 

Did I photograph The Oven Beast in its entirety?  I did not.  I'm currently regretting that but you do get a sense of it, perhaps, when you see how small the leg of lamb appears, in its cooking position, hanging from the Number 8 wire in the door.  The logs were monsters too.

Fiona and Barry have achieved so much in the years I've been gone.  They have built a new home on top of a hill that looks out over the east coast and down the valley into Dunedin city.  A beautiful new home built to resist the fearsome winds that occasionally come calling.

There are 2 horses living with them these days, a few sheep, one dog and two cats.  Fiona always has been a collector of small and helpless creatures.

At times they had Gert and I doubled over with laughter.  Many stories were told while sitting next to that huge roaring oven as the leg of lamb cooked and Gert got to know something of these excellent old friends of mine.  Friends I simply adore.

And the car they found ... well it's red and comes complete with its own set of stories too.  I expect it to feature in more than a few after we leave to explore the South Island next week.  I may have to start a blog page just for The Red Car. Let's see how that goes.

But to Fiona and Barry ... thank you for always being there over the years, and for being the kind of friends who accept all and expect so very little, including that 8 years of absence. 

Here's a taste of the view from their house on the hill.

On Holiday ...

I have trouble stopping.  I mean, I don't really know how to stop and relax.  For me life is about the stories, the journeys, the experiences.

When I go on 'holiday', life becomes a bit of an avalanche of new places, new people, new stories.  And so it has been with this trip to New Zealand.

We have had a most excellent series of adventures, spending time with the best of people and seeing so much beauty while we struggled with adjusting to these New Zealand days lived12 hours ahead of our Belgian lives.

This morning, just as I was thinking I might shake off the lingering jetlag, I said yes to watching my niece at her ice-skating practice.  The one starting at 6am.  I had begged her, as it was something I had missed all these years spent in other places.

I set my alarm last night however instead of waking to it at 5.35am, I woke up at 4.45am.  Too early to get up, to late to go back to sleep in a good way.

So I got up.  I worked for a while in the quiet the morning until it was time to leave for that rather cold ice-skating rink where I had an enjoyable time, photographing my talented ice-skating niece and chatting with my sister and a couple of mums.

Actually, life was a bit of a cascade today.  We took my other most excellent niece to school, then had Gert's camera sensor cleaned before wandering Dunedin's main shopping street.  We met the lovely Mark for lunch out at the Starfish Cafe.  'The Mark' who, in a move that would have delighted Christine and Peter, snuck down and paid the bill while we were finishing our lunch upstairs.  I have the most remarkably kind and generous friends.

This afternoon I slipped away to my bed and was lying there, feeling wickedly lazy, when I remembered ...  but this is a holiday.

8.45pm and here I am, back in bed but blogging.  Trying to stay awake, just a little longer, in an attempt to normalise to New Zealand time once and for all.

Tomorrow's a quieter day ... or that's what we're planning.