I lived on the edge of Otago Harbour, out on the peninsula, and scenes like this were everyday kind of scenes. And I often slipped out of the house, usually with my dog, and wandered out into those early mornings ... any season. It was always stunning.
I never took them forgranted, I loved every day that I spent out there. It was only that I needed to see the world. It was good to go home and visit it all again.
Herculaneum, an ancient Roman town destroyed by volcanic pyroclastic flows in 79 A.D.
It's a powerfully stunning place to visit. I would like to return there one day when the light isn't so bright and spend an entire day, or 3, wandering.
I remembered the incredible feeling of visiting Cairo as photographer while working on the Berlin project.
This was the view from my room, down in the heart of everyday Cairo ...
When I was home I photographed almost all of my beautiful nieces. Sarah, and her twin, were 4 when I first met them ... I'm still dealing with how many years might have passed since then.
And now we welcome the new year, full of things that have never been.
Rainer Maria Wilke
It's like that ... this year. It's full of the promise of things that have never been. Exciting things. And if I can just work through this winter thing, this frustration with ice and snow, the isolation of working alone and without colleagues or friends After 5 fabulous weeks back amongst my people, then all would be grand.
It's been a rough week, one where I picked up more responsibility than I like, cleaned the house more often than usual, and struggled to juggle all of the balls/projects I seem to have up in the air.
And I've been on a mission, trying to work out what is possible, which projects are feasible when it come to time and what might lead to employment ... the usual angst but with a clearer head.
I'm developing an exquisite project with a much-adored and respected friend ... to be unveiled as soon as it's ready to fly. And I'm interviewing the people in my neighbourhood here. The Flemish people I enjoy doing business with ... enjoy knowing, and I'm loving their stories. I need to pick up and start running Camera Journeys again ... but need to wait for the new direction to be confirmed, with dates and a place to book. There's a newsletter to get out soon ... there's stuff to be done and no more time can be spent on my knees, feeling sorry for myself.
It's been like that ... I needed to give myself a bit of a talking to. And it helped that I was reading Diana Baur's superb book titled 'Your Truth'. It's been the perfect companion through these challenging days. At only $5.99us, it's the best kind of read.
And the quote at the beginning ... I found that over on Cynthia Haynes website ... via the truly lovely Leonie Wise.
So, there's a vegetarian lasagne to bake now, and some bread too. I was going to make a pavlova for dessert but I think that might be raising the bar higher than I want to commit to longterm. I don't love housework. I'm more like Erica Jong in her poem Woman Enough.
I'll leave you with a favourite subject ... an image that I think best sums up the promise of things to come. Tot straks.
These mornings, returning from the 7.30am school run, I stink of the pollution that's out there in this city.
It was -10 celsius today, with frozen snow everywhere, and the 100,000+ per-day highway that cuts the city in half was roaring with traffic from all over Europe. My hair and my skin stink of the fumes. It reminds me of Istanbul on its worst polluted days, that city of 14 million+ but here there are no sea winds to blow the hugely polluted air someplace else.
They tell us that the weather will continue to hover around minus 10 overnight, rising to zero celsius, if we're lucky, with some more cold-cold coming over the weekend.
And so it is, winter in Belgium. I might just concentrate on those photographs taken back in New Zealand. This plant was spotted down in the garden of Christine's parents ...
The fish were doing odd things, there in the park.
She thought I was photographing them but no, I was photographing her.
It has been difficult to return to this European winter ... return from swimming and wading at various beaches all over New Zealand. Difficult to return from a country where you squint in the sun ... to a country where the sun makes an occasional appearance.
Difficult ... yes. Very.
But I filled my life with projects, as is my way. And they're all EXCITING.
And there are lots of projects because other people are so interesting however ... there's only one of me and this attempt to not miss New Zealand has become a nightmare of a workload.
I have 5 major projects. These last two days have been spent, head-in-hands oftentimes, as I recognise that I might have over-committed myself, in ways that I seem to specialise in.
Each project is brilliant. Some have been underway for a while. Some involve 1,000s of photographs I have yet to process. Others are future plans that excite the hell out of me.
Anyway, here's a glimpse from the other day when I wandered into the city in search of boots for the snow. I found these boots and they were cheaper than the price listed here ... half price in fact.
And the guy that sold them to me was the nicest guy. We chatted about the countries we come from while I shopped for my boots. A huge thank you has to go to him because shopping in Antwerp isn't always fun and the people aren't always friendly. When I find the receipt, I'll come back and tell you which shop I bought them in ... so you can pop in too.
Outside, there was that predawn kind of clarity, where the momentum of living has not quite captured the day. The air was not filled with conversation or thought bubbles or laughter or sidelong glances. Everyone was sleeping, all of their ideas and hopes and hidden agendas entangled in the dream world, leaving this world clear and crisp and cold as a bottle of milk in the fridge.
Reif Larsen, from The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet.
Meanwhile, I'm playing this song on repeat and up loud as I work here this morning.
And before I forget, I found the opening quote over on the marvellous Terri Windling's blog.
A glimpse from one of those early morning walks I took, back home in New Zealand ... Cooks Beach, on the Coromandel Peninsula ... sunrise.
Snow has arrived here in Antwerp.
It's cold, damn cold. I woke at 3am and padded through the house, trying to work out if I could turn the heating up. It goes way down at night. It was 14 celsius inside ... it didn't feel quite right.
It's snowing again as I write this meanwhile a tram derailed over on the Leftbank here and it's a little messy when it comes to getting past Central Station on Tram 5. But I need more Nespresso coffee capsules, just till a delivery can be made.
Sigh. I'm going to get snowed on.
In good news, my voice recorder arrived in the mail today. Interviews can happen again. I lost mine in New Zealand and was so sad. I am so careful with my equipment, so very careful usually.
Anyway ... outside just now.
Sitting here, having just completed 100-shot photo-shoot, a hotwater bottle on my aching back, Miss 8 downstairs with that horrible flu/cold that's going around, waiting for the predicted snow to arrive on a zero celsius day ... I find myself missing those sublime days, back in New Zealand, on that roadtrip in the little red car.
I miss pies too.
We're just in from a weekend spent in Wallonia, where the temperature dropped to below zero celsius and snow fell. And we gathered around a huge fire in a big old house and spent our time talking with good friends.
Actually, my heart has been warmed as friends have welcomed us back to Belgium after weeks spent wandering in that New Zealand summer.
Wednesday found me out with Jurjana, my truly delicious Croatian friend here in Antwerp. She drove me to her favourite restaurant and we enjoyed a lovely lunch and catch-up session at Patrasche, in Hoboken.
Thursday and Stephanie, an English friend, came over for dinner with her daughter. Another few hours spent talking and listening.
Friday and it was Lucy, Fiona, and Ruth. My lovely Irish and Belgian friends. We began as an informal Nederlands class but they have become such good friends that there was something of a 'coming home' feeling as I arrived at Fiona's house. Actually, we don't really speak in Nederlands anymore .... but, by crikey, we always have a most excellent time when we get together.
And this weekend was the icing on the cake. We wandered over to the New Zealand/Belgian/American household, over there on the other side of Belgium, and the snow fell and our wandering souls were surely warmed.
We're back in Belgium where its winter.
Today, I bought flowers in a bouquet designed by Dieter, my most favourite florist ever, located in Ter Rivierenlaan, Deurne.
And I have the family bouquet downstairs, in lieu of sunshine and blue skies, but here on my desk I have a small bunch of flowers that will surely be stunning as they open in the days ahead.
Flowers, as always, a way of arriving ...
On arriving in New Zealand, I was greeted by a character from Lord of the Rings.
I was discombobulated for sure.
The creature knew my name. He was shouting it, welcoming me, dancing around ... or that's how I remember it.
My friend, Christine, could see that I was not quite on the planet after 40 hours spent crossing the world ... she shouted, 'You don't know him! Don't worry!'
I appreciated that because I had no idea but felt it was entirely possible that one of my old friends, 8 years unseen, might have been messing with me.
I had warned Gert that, in some instances, being loved by New Zealanders was a little like being loved by bears. They're rough, it may hurt as they verbally sting you, and you might feel attacked but mostly it's love.
And Peter, well there he was, behind-the-scenes, photographing that startlingly unusual welcoming committee.
I have loved this man's poetry and performance and way of life since forever.
He is always, almost defiantly, Himself. And that's no mean feat in New Zealand, specially through those years he comes from ...
She forgot the Rule of Di ... never turn your back on the sister with the camera in her hand.
Vigilance, always ;-)
I went 8 years without seeing them, then had the privilege/joy/honour of walking back into their lives like there had been no absence.
The price?
Missing them.
People keep asking me how the return to Belgium is going ... what can I say?
We have been pleasantly surprised by the 9 celsius temperatures we've had since returning but the grey grey days are testing me. It's winter, I know, but Belgium does grey in a way that is unlike any other place I have known. My tan will surely be leached out of me ... perhaps within days.
I miss New Zealand food. I went to a Delhaize supermarket yesterday and came away sad over not finding anything nice, then realised I was searching for New Zealand food. Just that. Nothing else would do.
We are still tired after 60 hours mostly awake as we crossed the world, and in crazy-making ways. Yesterday we set up my work station here at the desk and later, as we failed in so many ways at the supermarket, we realised that we had potentially used up our daily quota of intelligence on the work station. The intricacies of supermarket shopping were all but beyond us.
Last night, coming home from a new year party, Gert kept nodding off on the tram. He had to be quicker in recovering than me, as he has already had two days back at work ... but there was a price it seems.
I miss the freedom of driving long distances through beautiful scenery on almost empty roads. I miss the little red car. I miss mountains and rivers, endless coastlines, and the variations of forest and bush. The smell of the air. I miss sunshine, family and friends. I miss a lot of things but I'm almost sure it will be okay fitting back into life here.
I'm not going to ruin my life with all that I miss. After all, it's as Justine Musk recently wrote, it is time for you to go on an adventure.
Here's to some good adventures in 2013 ... for all of us.
My cousin Tania, and her husband Al, had gifted both Gert and I a ride on a Waimak Alpine Jetboat however Gert's inner ear problem meant that he couldn't risk coming with us. He stayed behind on the sun-drenched bank of the Waimakariri River as photographer and sun-worshipper.
It was bliss out there in that world only accessible by boat and Greg, our driver, was simply superb. At some point on the journey I became fascinated by his instinctive reading of the river and asked him if it was anything like riding a horse. I was trying to get a sense of how it was to ride a river, jetboat-style.
I could see that the jetboat wasn't like a conventional boat. It didn't have a propeller that hung down in the water, and so we were screaming over incredibly shallow areas of river at times. Not only that, we were flying past river canyon walls with very little room for error, and the 360º spins were breathtakingly excellent.
They explain on their website: Invented in New Zealand by William Hamilton in 1954, the jet boat has an impeller [propeller] that is encased in a cylinder [stator] to protect it from hitting stones or the bed of the river. Unlike conventional propeller driven boats the jet boat's unit is above the water line enabling it to travel through extremely shallow water (3" or 75mm).
But still, there was more to it ... watching Gregwas like watching a photographer instinctively seeking light for an image. There was what was known, the rules ... river level, weather, and the state of the bends and then there was the rest. The instinctive knowing.
It seemed like that was the place where a 360º spin could happen, and knowing the precise moment when to head towards the rockface and miss it. How fast that corner could be taken at.
It seemed like a cross between art and science.
It was bliss.
My cousin Tania owns the house I love best in the world ...
Situated near the foothills of the Southern Alps, on the edge of a sometimes mighty mountain-fed river, it is a place of beauty ... a place of peace. I love it there.
I have memories of staying there in the past, of slipping outside and crossing the dew-covered lawn, just happy about being alive in that place.
This time the Belgian Bloke and I only managed to fit in an afternoon visit but one that involved an afternoon tea on the lawn in the shade of the trees, surrounded by the most exquisite flowers and birdsong. Beer and lemonade were involved. Stories were told and there was much laughter too.
Next time we'll stay longer. We were trying to do and see everything back there in my world and there weren't enough days in those 5 weeks at home.
Next time ...
