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Thread: NZ Musings

  1. #1
    Dawn's Avatar
    Dawn is offline All Knowing Deity
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    Default NZ Musings

    Where to start, what to say.

    I didn?t know what I was expecting when I came here. I didn?t know what I wanted it to be, what I wanted it to give, what I thought I may gain or lose. I still don?t. My thoughts since I arrived have been scattered to say the least. At times I have felt as encumbered as one of those donkeys you see on the telly, those ones somewhere in the Middle East, fully laden, tottering along dusty roads on too thin legs with a kaftaned man beside it belting it with a stick intermittently. At other times I have felt as free as a bird. Free to soar and swoop, to sit, to watch, to wait, to choose.

    I was however, unprepared for the mess in my head, for the colossal mental lists of all the things that had to be done NOW that would hit me at two in the morning. I certainly wasn?t expecting the ?Bloody hell, how are we going to go about doing all of those things? thoughts that followed them and for someone who has generally always been in control, I have flailed a time or two to say the least.

    We parked the campervan in a site right by the sea shortly after we arrived and that night with the sound of the waves softly lapping the shore I dreamed we had been cast away upon a stormy sea. Huge waves threw us first this way and then that. The shore was visible, lights beckoned us to safety but we were powerless to control the direction we went in. Cold sea-water poured in at the windows bringing its brininess to soak our skin. I awoke before we could be completely engulfed but in that place between sleeping and waking I saw us as if from above, surrounded by water with land on all sides that we were somehow incapable of reaching. We awoke the next morning to warm, translucent sunlight and a calm sea glinting mockery.

    Probably the most irritating thing I?ve had to endure and this may just have been a product of jet-lag is the ?Where the hell did I put that?? syndrome. Now, I?ll admit to being a bit slap happy. I am not an ?everything has it?s place? kind of girl, everything?s place to me is where I put it down when I finished with it but I generally remember where I?ve put stuff and why. Not for the first ten days I was here. I would literally put something down for a second and it would disappear. When it reappeared it would be at a time and in a place of its own choosing, usually somewhere bearing not even a tenuous link between itself and the offending object. How can that happen in a twelve foot square campervan? I swear at times I?ve thought I am losing my mind.

    It is beautiful here. That sounds kind of crap because ?beautiful? is a word that is so over-used these days. Advertisers use it to sell everything from tyres to sanitary towels but I mean beautiful in its literal sense. Like, when you look at something and it?s so complexly basic it makes your heart ache, a raindrop, a grain of sand, a stone. This can happen anywhere I know but it somehow seems magnified here. Or so grandly beautiful it steals your breath before it makes it all the way in, a journeying river rushing headlong over a tumultuous waterfall and descending into turmoil before rediscovering it?s path, a tree so huge and aged you can?t fathom, an oceans end smashing upon rocks in frustration unabated and then seeking to hold on with so many foamy fingers. Then there?s the cheeky, sneaky little beautiful that creeps up on you when you least expect it and leaves you filmy-eyed, a flower, a snowflake, a cloud.

    There are vast expanses of rolling hillsides that appear upholstered in green velvet, studded with glinting rock and gashed here and there to release tumbling streams of iridescence. There are jagged mountains snowy capped and mysteriously cloaked in swirling clouds that are there one moment and gone the next inciting us to look up once in a while and remember how small we are. There are lakes as slick as mirrors that disappear from view or butt up against mountains geologically crafted to prevent them from spilling over or so it seems. There are beaches that appear hewn from precious metal, platinum, silver and gold and those with midnight sands that sparkle as granular moonlight. There?s a mist that weaves amongst the trees and sits on the shoulders of hillsides, it conjures fairytale images of gossamer wings and brushes branch and leaf with wet before dissolving imperceptibly like warm breath on a cold morning. Each day is of vivid colour like I?ve been given a new pair of eyes, like opening a new paint box with a virgin palette, like looking at a Van Gogh.

    Beautiful. Literally.
    Passionate about the unfathomableness opportunities of kiwi-a-gogo-land

  2. #2
    selchie's Avatar
    selchie is offline All Knowing Deity
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    Good stuff, Dawn. Thank you for sharing your musings with us. I'm sure things settle down for you soon.
    If men had wings and bore black feathers, few of them would be clever enough to be crows.
    - Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, mid-1800s

  3. #3
    MotherBear's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Dawn View Post
    I didn?t know what I was expecting when I came here. I didn?t know what I wanted it to be, what I wanted it to give, what I thought I may gain or lose.
    Maybe that's the best way to approach a new country. Leaves you open to what the country has to offer you rather than what you thought it should offer you.

    Waxing lyrical there, Dawn. Sounds like it could have come out of a well-written book, so maybe you should start writing one and add another string to your already gifted bow.
    Mother Bear

    Try to bloom wherever you are planted.

  4. #4
    KiwiHopeful's Avatar
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    Yes, wonderfully expressed, Dawn. We took a drive up the Port Hills, which separate Chch from Lyttleton. I was taking some pictures of the boys and the landscape and I said to my wife, "I don't know why I'm bothering--the pictures can't even begin to capture this." But if one picture can be worth a thousand words, a few chosen words can be worth a thousand pictures.
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