Taniwha are supernatural creatures whose forms and characteristics vary according to different tribal traditions. Though supernatural, in the Māori world view they were seen as part of the natural environment. Taniwha have been described as fabulous monsters that live in deep water.
I saw this while wandering in Rotorua's geo-thermal park the other day and wondered about the Maori legends and the Taniwha ...
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.
A small glimpse of Auckland city ... taken in an unusual light, back on that first day here in New Zealand.
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.
We just completed our trip down the North Island. Today found us photographing New Zealand's erupting volcano, Mount Tongariro. This, after a delightrful hour or more spent at L’Art'e Cafe, enjoying stunning food, exquisite art, AND, the best coffee I've tasted outside of Italy.
It's been magic ... a truly magic couple of days. And there's the fact that early summer in New Zealand is not to be sneezed at. I hope my body clock has made the switch though ... otherwise I'm drinking red wine at 6.49am Belgian time. (NZ is 12 hours ahead).
Yesterday we were wandering the paths of Wai-O-Tapu, one of Rotorua's thermal parks, as per the photograph that follows.
Tomorrow ...
Tomorrow I will begin writing up some of the things seen ... sharing photographs taken of that erupting volcano.
Sleep ... must sleep now.
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.
It's been like that ... and with New Zealand looming up in front of me, I'm kind of lost in these days.
There are things I want to do to wrap up the time spent with 4 incredible women on the photography workshop in Genova, Italy.
And there are things I must do before arriving in New Zealand next week.
And then there are the things to do Now ... between returning from Italy and leaving for the 'uttermost ends of the earth'. (An inscription I remember reading on a world war one memorial to New Zealand soldiers who died in Turkey ... they came from the uttermost ends of the earth.)
New Zealand is 12 hours ahead of Belgium and it's summer there ... meanwhile Antwerp is disappearing into the fog and freezing of November.
I am digging out summer clothes even as I have winter clothes repaired and readied for my return in January.
I am so deeply deeply saddened by the deaths of so many Palestinians but that is my facebook self and not for here, in this politically-free zone.
We have someone to take care of our house. And all is organised in terms of travel bookings.
I have some of the best people I've ever known waiting for us to arrive in New Zealand. I'll see my sister for the first time in 8 years. My dad too. One of my brothers, and my beloved Auntie Coral. I will take that Belgian bloke on a road trip round the South Island so that he knows me in the context of the place I was born ... so different to where I am now. I love that 2000km drive, past so many different beaches, stopping to visit with Hunter and Clare in Fiordland, with Rozanna and David in Marlborough, catching up with Dave and Jude, Corryl, with Abe, with my nieces who are 8 years older. With my ex-mother-in-law, the one that I kept and who stayed with us a summer or two ago. With my sister-in-law, Sue, whom I adore. I will see nieces, old friends, and people I have loved since forever.
Fiona ... she is the friend of myth and legend. Surely the best kind of friend you could dream of finding in a lifetime, friends since we were 13 ... she and her kiwi bloke have found us a car.
I can't wait to see all that has changed and revisit those things that have remained the same ... but I will, as there's 23 hours in the air before I get to see them all.
Peter and Christine ... how do I write of what good people they are ... they're waiting to meet us in Auckland and wanted to drive us through the North Island to their home in Wellington.
My cup overflows.
Can you tell?
These days are extreme. Just a few more then I fly to the country pictured below. David Wall took this photograph. I love his work, so much and this ... it's New Zealand. I'm looking forward to going home. It's been far too long.
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.
Whenever I return to Genova, I remember ... that I'm walking along roads that have been here forever. It makes me almost sure that ghosts surely walk next to me as I wander.
Tonight I couldn't resist and wandered out with the tripod. There was the image below, with life carrying on through my time-lapse, creating something that almost captures this feeling I have about walking next to the ancients when I'm here.
I listen to life out there on the streets, generations of people in this place of complicated history and excellent stories.
Back in Genova ... and loving it.
When you race out after breakfast to photograph the rubbish bags in an area not your own ... for that blogpost you wrote elsewhere.
And on the way home, after rubbish bag photography where you bluffed that yes, I'm meant to be doing this, you are picked up by a Jehovah's Witness doing her work. (I mistook her for a friendly Belgian out there on the suburban streets, between the supermarket and home.)
And unable to be rude, you obediently give her your home address, so she can come check whether you read that religious tract she just gave you.
Then you have that hour long appointment with a woman so wise that she makes you smile ... work on photographs, put the laundry through and vacuum.
You open the stunningly excellent carrot and cardamom bio soup you picked up from the supermarket because a truly generous yoga instructor is calling by, just to show you that you can do yoga without your injured neck popping out and all over the place.
And you talk photography with her because she wants to learn the how of it and you love sharing what you know.
Well ... it's been a day like that so far. The photograph ... the street I wandered home along earlier this morning.
I'm in Genova soon, then off to New Zealand. It's all starting to feel real.
It's a long weekend here in Belgium. It's All Saints Day today(an official public holiday), then tomorrow is All Souls Day (an unofficial holiday but some people, like Gert, have a bridging day)
The bridging day phenomena is explained most precisely on wiki: 'when a lone holiday occurs on a Tuesday or a Thursday, the gap between that day and the weekend may also be designated as a holiday, or set to be a movable or floating holiday, or indeed work/school may be avoided by consensus unofficially. This is typically referred to by a phrase involving "bridge" in most languages.'
It's November 1 and it's overcast and raining. Just 9 celsius and well ... it feels like autumn.
Anyway, a beautiful memory from a long-ago home in New Zealand, with my much-loved ancient dog walking towards me on the veranda.
Afoot and light-hearted, I take to the open road,
Jess dragged me outside the other day ... the sun was disappearing but light was exquisite.
We were a little slow arriving in Rivierenhof on our bikes but caught some of the autumn action there ...
We had a most delightful day wandering this Flemish city of mine with our cameras …
We were 4, as they might say here. I loved the international flavour of us. We came from Italy, Belgium, Finland and New Zealand, meeting at my house, over lunch and pdf workbooks.
My photography e-course book is included in each photography workshop, as is Hanna’s video e-book in video workshops. I had previously asked Francesca and Bouchra what elements of photography they were most interested in and, after lunch, set them practical exercises focusing on their areas of interest.
That done we were ready to wander out into the beautifully warm autumn day Antwerp was offering. The city was good to us and shop-owners welcomed our interest in their decor and products. The autumn leaves glowed in the exquisite golden light on offer and we played … cameras in hand, 4 women together, out and enjoying the freedom to experiment and learn.
These workshops are as much about offering a safe and supportive environment for learning just how to use your camera … as they are about slipping in through the backdoor and visiting the lives of the people who live here. And it’s about any camera … whatever you have. And just as important is the realisation that your way of seeing is valid. That perhaps photography is about knowing the rules but then it’s bending them to your style, to exploring them and pushing them to their limits, about playing.
The goal? Well, it’s about coming away knowing that your way of seeing is exactly that … it’s your way. An expression or extension of you. In the same way the artist chooses their medium, the writer their genre …
I truly enjoyed the time we spent together on Tuesday. A huge thank you to Francesca, Bouchra and Hanna for being so much fun to go wandering with … and for being so willing to experiment with photography.
Photo credit goes to Francesca Puccio.
I write for the Fans of Flanders website once a week. It's been interesting finding my voice over there because it feels less about me as a photographer and more about me as a foreigner here in Belgium ... kind of.
But this weekend's post was slightly simpler to write ... well, it took ages but I was working through a small crisis. You see I have been known to complain about things here in Belgium. It's a very flat country, there's only 60kms of coastline, it's polluted, and people can be quite rude in the shops and on the trams ... not always but by crikey, I have more than enough stories of outrage.
Last weekend we had a party and one of our guests was the lovely Spanish-based American friend called Erik. He is friend to Simon and Paola, and so it was that he stayed with them over in Brussels, and they decided they would leave exploring Antwerp until the Saturday of the party.
I realised I would have to leave them to it, as there were more than 25 guests coming and we were cooking dinner for 7 plus 2 kidlets, beforehand. I found it strangely painful not to be involved in micro-managing their city wandering.
I was bemused ... but wait, what is this feeling??? Is it really that I want Erik to see Antwerp in the best possible light? Really?
And I realised that this is my over-arching desire when it comes to this adopted Flemish city of mine. I love introducing people to it, to the secret places tourists don't always find, to the restaurants and cafes with the best food and wine, to the ancient cobblestone streets that hide so many surprises ... really quirky surprises sometimes. I love it because somehow this city has become part of me.
Anyway ... my small crisis played out over on my Antwerp page.
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 ...
Gert has begun preparing the garden for winter and I couldn't resist photographing the colour of the decaying rhubarb leaves yesterday.
The red raspberries are almost finished. The parsnips are almost ready. He harvested a huge load of silverbeet (Swiss Chard/Bietole) and we froze some. Then he cut back the Thyme and the Rosemary too.
We had a wet warm Spring and then there was enough rain in the summer for the garden to grow madly well. This morning I was on the school run and as we left the house at 7.30am, the air was Crisp ... with a capital C. We're losing the light now ... the door to the garden stays shut while we eat breakfast, and the big metal shutter isn't opened until after 8am.
I'll miss Summer ... well, until I reach New Zealand anyway.
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.
Istanbul, a universal beauty where poet and archeologist, diplomat and merchant, princess and sailor, northerner and westerner screams with the same admiration. The whole world thinks that this city is the most beautiful place on earth.
Edmondo De Amicis.
Although, I might mention Genova in the same breath. Another most beautiful city ...
