Cabbage trees have lovely scented flowers in early summer, which turn into bluish-white berries that birds love to eat. Growing to heights of 12 to 20 metres, cabbage trees have long narrow leaves that may be up to a metre long.
The view from the balcony at Hunter and Clare's this morning ...
We drove almost 500 hundred kilometres yesterday, down the east coast from Dunedin to Invercargill via the Catlins, stopping to walk an old favourite bush walk of mine at Tautuku. It was raining but that was entirely appropriate, as school camps there were all about rain and wet woollen outdoor gear and that drying room where clothes went to recover after some time in the rain.
But honestly, New Zealand smells so damn good in the rain. There's the peat of the forest floor, the various ferns, the sea or the river, the stones under-foot … all of it, wet, is New Zealand to me.
I was driver, as we're left-side of the road here but I was lovely, stopping where ever Gert wanted to stop. Stopping where ever I wanted to stop too.
The landscape … well, let's just say I was like a very proud mother, showing her longed-for baby off to the stranger. I love this country. I love the 'ta-dah!' moments it offers up. This beach, that mountain, the view .. there were so very many 'ta-dah!' moments yesterday.
And as we wandered through Invercargill, quite behind schedule as we searched for my Nana's house … a childhood favourite destination of mine; then searching for another (affordable) 32GB usb stick for photo-backup (because we're taking millions of photographs), I let those memories of long ago wash over me.
Our little red car is going well but needs its tank filled every 400km, just to be sure, as the gauge doesn't work. Things got a tiny little bit worrisome as we made the journey between Riverton and Tuatapere … with me uncertain about the 'where' of the next petrol station.
The south coast of the South Island offered us an empty highway, exquisite seascapes, and great stands of wind-twisted trees ...bent low by the force of powerful winds. We stopped often.
Then we turned the car west and headed for the mountains and Manapouri. Gert pulled out his camera and occasionally took photographs from the passenger seat, in-between stops for beautiful scenes. It's stunning out there. I'm not sure how one returns to Belgium but that's for another day.
We arrived at Hunter and Clare's place just after 6pm, and it was so damn good to see them after so long. They had come to us in Belgium but I used to live in Te Anau and we became friends here. This is one of those places where I do believe I might have left a piece of my soul.
Hunter is a long-time local in this wild corner of New Zealand. I have an interview with him that I would like to write up over the winter ahead. He and Clare have created a small paradise here but even that is an entire story I need to write up with photographs.
We caught up over a delicious homemade, (homegrown, actually) venison stew, in their renovated (since last time I was there) dining room. We talked, then they invited us down to the lake … The Lake … where we ooohed and ahhhed over the sun going down in the mountains.
Bedtime arrived and voila, they had yet another stunning surprise in store. We are staying on their property, in their exquisite (truly exquisite) little self-sufficient B&B cabin. We are here!
As I type this, I'm sitting out on the verandah (or deck, as they call them here in New Zealand). It's 8.45am and the landscape is exploding with the most beautiful birdsong. We have heard the Bellbird and the Magpies chiming away and now … now there's this chorus of multiple birds. I believe this might be there 'happy to be alive'chorus.
I opened the curtains to trees and mountains and sunshine and now … well, we must head out and explore. Mustn't we ...
I'll leave you with an image of the wind-twisted pines of yesterday, down on the south coast of the South Island of New Zealand.
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.
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.
The small New Zealand town of Tirau offered up something quite different to anything I've seen before, in terms of advertising signs. And I loved it.
I went searching for the story and found the website - Corrugated Creations.
The photograph below is of the huge corrugated iron sign that advertised the garage we pulled into after hearing the most terrible grinding sound coming from under the bonnet. We were lucky ... a stone had bounced up into the brakes but the mechanic there ... what a sweetie.
Way back when ... when my first husband joined the New Zealand airforce, he was recruited by Peter Kirker. And Peter, being the kind-hearted soul that he is, told his wife that this new recruit had a wife and she might need some support as her 30 year old husband disappeared into 6 months of basic and officer training.
And that was where our friendship began ... so many years ago, it played out on Base Woodbourne in Marlborough and we've stayed in touch over the years.
So when they heard we were coming home, they suggested we arrive in Auckland so that they could introduce Gert to the North Island of New Zealand ... a territory that has remained relatively unknown to me. I'm a South Island girl and was always so completely in love with the other island that I never did get round to the roadtrip 'up north' before leaving home.
Since arriving on Monday, we have been introduced to Auckland, wandered in Rotoroa, slept at Taupo, eaten enough exquisite food to make me wonder why it was that I left and, last night, we have arrived in Wellington.
We have laughed often as we've wandered with this lovely couple, talked endlessly, been taken care of like we were special and we have had a most marvellous time.
Returning has felt something like someone opening up their red wine cellar up to us, and bringing out all their treasures, inviting us to taste each one and, rather than getting drunk, we find ourselves filled up with the goodness that is a return to New Zealand.
I'm really struggling to focus down in on each individual story ... the people, the places, the sights seen. The stories, the 'incidents' (mmmmm, there may have been some incidents), and the details of this return home after 8 years away.
Last night I was talking to my dad and my sister, anticipating arriving in their world at the weekend. And exchanging mails with Giovanni and Inge, lovely friends made via the internet ... people I'll be seeing while here in Wellington. There are people to visit with all over this country of mine and I love that.
This morning, 5am (the new normal), and the dawn chorus exploded into the room. I love it. I have missed so much about 'home', deep inside of myself, in that place where these kinds of memories hide themselves.
Anyway, enough of the deluge of words ... I photographed our lovely friends while they were showing Gert a Fantail on one of the pathways in Rotorua. Meet Christine and Peter Kirker, people I am so honoured to have as friends.
Last night, after an lovely afternoon and evening spent in the company of old friends, Gert and I fell down the rabbit hole into sleep. It was 8pm, and it is probably more accurate to write, we plunged into sleep.
It's 4.30am as I begin this, here in New Zealand, sitting up in bed, laptop on my legs, typing as the Bellbirds begin the morning chorus ... I'm so glad to be home.
Actually, if you select Dawn Chorus, on this page, you'll get a sense of what I am currently listening to, here in this city of just over 1 million people. It's a city like no other I've known. There is always the sea and so much nature, in the most beautiful way.
But I would say that, wouldn't I ... perhaps 'the most beautiful way' is going to be code for all that is familiar.
Yesterday, after our second long flight to the bottom of the world, Peter and Christine met us at the airport (with some mad Hobbit character, who I feared was an old friend in disguise - an exuberant character who would surely mortify me. He wasn't and didn't.) After the hugs and the tears (Christine and I) they introduced us to 'their' Auckland city on the drive home to Christine's parents.
Then came lunch on the balcony and it was no ordinary lunch ... it was a kiwi 'almost summertime' lunch, just like Nana and Mum used to make.
I, who rarely drinks tea now, had a big cup of tea in honour of those women I've lost. There were the sandwiches filled up with fresh lettuce, hardboiled egg, tomato, and cold roast chicken, with options of cheese and of ham too. And that big bowl of fruit and the sweet juicy delight of a fresh New Zealand orange.
It was bliss because it was familiar ... bliss because I was sitting there with old friends on the inside a New Zealand family again, bliss because the neighbours called in just as they always had back in my childhood home.
Late afternoon found me barefoot and in the sea, as captured by Gert back at the top of this post. A mild sea, pale-turquoise and so inviting, writes this woman who forgot her swimsuit ... or togs, as we call them here in the land downunder.
Dinner was Snapper, fresh from yesterday's ocean, and exquisite, of course. Followed by a huge bowl of strawberries and ice cream.
And we were finished. I was suddenly at a point of exhaustion where I completely undone. Some deep breathing got me to sleep, calming my senses and bringing me back from that place of complete overwhelm.
Our first day in New Zealand ... old friends who welcomed us in that kiwi way that is so familiar ... a mix of humour and tears, and so much kindness too.
Today we begin our roadtrip south with them. Christine and Peter had long-ago suggested we fly in to Auckland and that they would drive us home to their place in Wellington, pointing out it would be a great way for Gert to get a taste of the North Island but erhemm, South Island girl that I am, I haven't done this drive either.
We will be wandering off to Rotorua and Taupo today. There may be one or two photographs taken along the way, much laughter, good food and some hours spent with some of the kindest kiwis I know.
Thank you to Christine and Peter Kirker, for that friendship you offered when I was a newby airforce officer's wife, for all those cups of tea and homemade baking in that sun-filled kitchen of yours on Base Woodbourne, and for keeping this friendship warm all of these years I've been gone. It is so good to be back in your lives again.
Meanwhile the NZ seagull who shared his waters-edge with me yesterday.
Roberto Panizzi is the president of the World Pesto Championships here in Genova and he was kind enough to allow our workshop group to photograph him making pesto. Grazie mille to Anna, of Beautiful Liguria, for setting that up.
There Robert was, surrounded by 5 women as he demonstrated the pesto-making process, talking and inspiring us while calmly bearing the quiet storm of flashes along with the knowledge that Hanna's was also filming him.
Here he is, having photographed us, busy sending the resulting images out to all his twitter followers.
We adored him.
Somehow, without intention... without preparing for it all, I have been busy.
Monday, I interviewed the lovely singer/musician/yoga teacher, Luc Acke. Friday night, I had the pleasure of attending his sneak preview concert, the one where he and Spring Groove performed tracks from the album they're making together ... HOME.
I was interviewed by a student of journalism on Wednesday.
Wandered city streets for the photography workshop on Friday.
All the while, preparing for a massive dinner party/party on Saturday. Erik Rasmussen was in town and it seemed like a good idea to catch up with him, Paola and Simon, Cloe and Brian, pre-party. And so we did dinner.
There was this really fast turn-around, and we were ready as everyone started arriving for the party at 8pm. It was a good party. 10 nationalities, excellent people, intense conversations, and much laughter too.
My carriage turned back into a pumpkin around midnight and voila, I fell into this horrible cold that's going around. I've spent the last two days dozing and napping, only venturing out into that 'other world' called Facebook, when the notion of slowing down and stopping has become too much for me.
But this week has to be quieter, even I know that ... although the headache has gone, the cold remains. I might just chill out a few days more and make sure it goes. I play Missy Higgins and listen to the sea in her track, sure it has some kind of medicinal property. I wash dishes and do laundry quietly and slowly. It's okay.
Gert meanwhile, has been caught up in preparation for Belgium's local-body elections. Last night, the country watched as the Flemish Nationalists stormed to victory in Flanders, and so I'm curious.
Back in New Zealand in 2000/2001/2002 ... what was I studying
The European Union, of course ... via political anthropology classes with the author of this book, Douglas R Holmes. He was fascinating and we were lucky to have him for more than one paper down there at the bottom of the world.
So you can imagine, perhaps, I'm bemused to find myself in the centre of this nationalist victory here in Flanders. Other countries in Europe will surely be watching to see how it all plays out as Belgium begins to walk towards their national elections in two years ... with a nationalist government in power in the Flemish half of the country.
I shall observe with interest. But anyway, meet Luc and Spring, taken during their Friday performance ...
I found the music of Missy Higgins today, just after finding an old favourite of mine ... Paul Kelly's song, Midnight Rain, via youtube. I've been searching for it online for years.
He sang with Missy and, curious, I went wandering through her world and found Everyone's Waiting ...see the clip below.
And I watched it and remembered swimming in New Zealand's oceans. I remembered how good it felt to walk my dogs on the beaches. I remembered startling one of my favourite dogs out on Long Beach, in Dunedin, when I ran into the surf with her ... fully clothed, one day when I just needed to swim.
Then I hit replay and listened while I wrote to a friend. Not seeing the flim clip, I heard the familar roar of the surf, the crackle and slosh of the sea ... and something clicked, in my soul perhaps.
And I cracked open a spare moleskin notebook I had here.
I wrote New Zealand there on its front page, and started a list.
- find a copy of the movie 'In My Father's Den'.
- swim in the sea
- stand and walk in the surf, (photograph that to bring back to Europe when I leave).
And finally, so long after booking the tickets, I let my mind sift through the possibilities ... sunrises with coffee, outside, someplace beautiful.
Seeing my nieces, the Georgia and Katie creatures, who were 8 years younger when I left and now, well ... they're both teenagers.
And my much-loved favourite sister, Sandra, and my dad ... and one of my brothers, Steve, will be over from Australia.
There might be sunsets and wine, and long conversations ... with friends, like Dave and Jude, Christine and Peter, Fiona and Barry and others ... but I talk of them here.
Anyway, I'll be letting this song of Missy's take me home in the meanwhile ... and maybe I'll play up loud as we wander New Zealand ... letting Home sink back into my bones and fill me again.
Last week was an action-packed rather stress-filled week.
I did a lot, learned a lot, worried a lot.
Monday 24 September and there was a lovely film crew here at the house. They titled the interview
We had so much fun but I think that comes through.
We were so delighted by Lies editing too. I imagine many will get a sense of what else might have been said during the hours of filming and conversation that went into this piece.
Thursday there was a corporate photography shoot that became huge.
Then yesterday ... Wednesday 3rd October, there was the launch of CameraJourneys.net.
In-between, a million other things too.
There was the launch of Benny van Loon's Retro Food project.
On Sunday, Gert's parents came over for a pavlova and coffee and conversation about Istanbul. His mum is wandering there now ...
My Nespresso machine was finally sent off for repairs today. The house is clean. The last of the rhubarb was picked and the plants have been 'tucked up' ready for winter.
The temperature dropped to 10 celsius in the rain today. I froze. Quite unprepared for it all.
Maybe that's all ... it's been a mad-busy couple of weeks though, mad-busy.
Hanna and I explored the possibility of merging our interest in people with my passion for interviews and photography and her talent for film back in July.
New Zealand artist, Wendy Leach kindly agreed to be the subject of our first combined effort and while you don't hear or see me, that's me doing the interview.
Following is the 7 minute interview we created.
Interview with artist Wendy Leach from Wendy Leach on Vimeo.
And the full 16 minute interview can be viewed below ...
Full interview with artist Wendy Leach from Wendy Leach on Vimeo.
Any time I raise anything on stage, I ask Di Mackey to join the project. Her photographic work is magnificent and I love her presence: her portraits are stunning, they expose intimacy, humor, and pensiveness; her photographs capture the space, the movement, human interaction deliciously, in a way that one feels invited to an event long after it disappeared from the public scene.
In all her unobtrusiveness when working with the camera, Di is great fun to hang out with, the artists, scholars, thinkers, curators of our big Berlin exhibition highly appreciated her, and when working together in Cairo, Istanbul, Berlin, or wherever else, I enjoy her kindness, humor, and delightful presence.
I miss her at the time when we are “in between projects.” One of the first things I will do when starting a huge new project is to ask Di whether she wants to do the photographic work. I hope she will.
Shulamit Bruckstein, curator, director of TASWIR projects / ha’atelier.
It doesn't happen too often, thank goodness, but sometimes you arrive to photograph someone and voila ...you become the subject of a Patrice van de Waller's videocial.
He explains: Videocials are the specific combination of videos and social media. In other words, the videos are made specifically with Social Media in Mind. What is involved in this?
Patrice van de Walle was the bloke who made this photographer the subject ... dammit.
I should tell you though, he brings more than 20 years of experience in television & the Internet to any project he takes on. He has managed a satellite TV channel in India and helped found a TV production company in the UK. He launched TV channels in Germany and the UK, launching several video and B2B web sites too.
Actually, he is also available to speak at conferences about his favourite topic: the many uses of video on the web and the communications revolution it will engender.
He's charming, engaged, intelligent ... so yeah, I let him film me at work. It's not me at my best. I might have felt a little bit ... filmed. My preference is a kind of invisibility ... the kind a documentary-style photographer seeks. I prefer to know about everyone else but here, Patrice captured something of me at work.
I recommend you having a good look around his website ... Web Video Impact, and then wandering on over to Videocial.
Here's the man. I may have pointed my camera his way too ...
They booked their visit months ago. It was written into 'the book' and then time passed, in its usual haphazard manner. Being me, I lost track but suddenly, despite this non-participation with regard to time, it was 25 August and voila, they were here.
I met Clare in Istanbul and adored her there. She left, we stayed in contact and Gert and I had the joy of photographing her British wedding to the lovely Chris ...
This friendship, it's been lovely so far.
Yesterday we wandered the city ending our day at Taverne Ter Rivierenhof, with unlimited exceptionally exquisite Mosselen a Velonte, Scampi in Lookboter, and Stoverij. Bliss!
This morning a traditional Belgian breakfast was enjoyed by all, conversations too, and then afternoon saw them disappear on our bikes, exploring this city Clare has only visited during colder months. Chris has never been here ... it was therefore imperative that he went wandering.
Last heard of, they were leaving the Open Air Sculpture Park called Middelheim, heading for the famous Het Elfde Gebod - a pub full of religious statues, bought when the Catholic Church entered its minimalist phase.
There have been a couple of serious downpours but we're thinking they're fine. She's an intrepid soul, as is he ... and we're looking forward to the stories that will surely be told over Shepherd's Pie and Pavlova tonight.
Oh ... and red wine too. Belgian beers for the boys we're thinking - in the style of an anthropological-style ethnography. Gert's been introducing all the blokes to the new beer by Duvel Tripel Hop. So far, everyone he has introduced to this new limited edition beer to, has looked like they have partaken of a miracle upon supping from their Duvel glass.
Even Clare toyed with not returning Chris's glass to him after a taste of the Duvel, despite the fact that we in the midst of our own red wine religious experience. That, my friends, is how good the Duvel Tripel Hop is ...
Anyway, meet Chris and Clare.
I do minimal work on my portraits in Photoshop ... minimal because I think it's more important that people see that they are beautiful and not in need of photoshopping however ... my daughter goes in there and tweaks just the subtlest things in the most beautiful ways
She is an artist in Photoshop ... and she gave me three variations of the same photograph, having done minimal work on them.
Maybe it's animalness that will make the world right again: the wisdom of elephants, the enthusiasm of canines, the grace of snakes, the mildness of anteaters. Perhaps being human needs some diluting.
Carol Emswhwiller, from Carmen Dog.
Momo took all the balls to his bed under the stairs ... game over.
Quote found over at Terri's marvellous blog.
Last night, I realised that I had driven to Frankfurt in Germany and back without any form of ID on me. The German police would not have been impressed had they checked ...
You can go to jail for 12 hours in Belgium, if you're caught like that here, although they let me off the one time that was discovered.
Anyway, this was how that massive day ended ... 3 Aussies, a kiwi and a Belgian, sitting round a big old outside fire, chatting.
Tonight, here in Wallonia.
At the table tonight, an American, an Australian, 2 Rwandans, and this New Zealander. An excellent end to a day that started challengingly.
