Christine and Peter ...

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.

Auckland to Wellington ... now to blog

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.

Breakfast Out On the Balcony, Auckland

Peter Kirker loves photography too.  He caught me, at breakfast, out on the balcony this morning. 

How strange to be on the other side of the camera ... patient while photographed from all angles.

New Zealand ... and a dawn chorus

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.

Jetlag ...

Now I remember jetlag, and I'm placing it firmly in that category with childbirth ... one of those experiences you tend to/try to forget and only really recall when you're back in the midst of it all again.

We woke at 6am in Amsterdam, took off around 10am, and arrived in Singapore at midnight Belgian time. 

Now here we are, barely conscious, waiting in the transit hotel lounge trying to forget that it's 2am back in Belgium while here in Singapore it's 8am ... and everyone is so bouncy, helpful and sweet.

We are living in the white noise ...

Important information, if you intend booking a room in this little airport transit hotel here in Singapore, pre-book a room 3-4 weeks in advance.  We've been fortunate and if we can just stay awake and hour or so longer, there's been a cancellation that we're allowed.  The carpet looks fairly inviting currently.

But  do I love  flying Singapore Airlines, it's only that I had forgotten how a 12 hour flight feels.  We truly hope to sleep before boarding a big jet and flying the rest of the way to New Zealand.

I'm really only writing this to stay awake.  Do forgive me if it makes no sense ...

Day One ... the long trek back to New Zealand

We caught an airport to airport van this morning ... from Antwerp through to Schipol Airport in Amsterdam.  For 29euro each, we were lucky enough to have this van completely to ourselves.  It was lovely.  I clicked into my seatbelt and slept.

I woke, for  a few minutes, then slept again.  And again, and again.

The two hour trip passed quickly, or so it seemed, and we arrived at the hotel, found our room here in the vast complex, turned on tv and ... I slept again.

Could be I was terribly tired.  I have been running on empty for weeks and today it seems that I simply arrived at a point where I could just sit back and relax.

Tonight in Amsterdam, here I am, loving the fact that we have BBC 2 in the hotel room.  We've watched 'Escape to the Country', 'Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is' and now ... 'Celebrity Antiques Road Trip'.  My little cup runneth over.

A New Post on the Antwerp page

There has been a real sense of storing impressions ... of really looking, as I walk city streets in these days before flying back home to New Zealand ...

This is the opening to a new blog post I wrote for Fans of Flanders, and posted on my Antwerp page but even as I write this here, I'm thinking maybe I need to create a New Zealand page.

I'll leave you with another image from New Zealand photographer, and good friend, David Wall.

Must finish packing ... tot later.

How do I write of these days ... ?

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 - the Pesto Guy, Genova

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.

News to Follow about the Photography Workshop in Italy

The photography workshop has been such a delightful experience, I want to sit down and write about it all properly but I have a 5.30am appointment tomorrow...

So many stories to tell, so many superb people met, so many photographs ... it's almost overwhelming but my usb modem isn't coping tonight and I really must sleep so ... buona notte from me here in this city I love so well.

Another Reason To Love Squarespace

I received this email from my website people the other day and it impressed me so much that I want to share some of it.

Anthony, from Squarespace, wrote: A little over a week ago, I sent out one of the most difficult emails that Squarespace has ever delivered to our customers.

Peer1, our data center in downtown Manhattan, was so severely impacted by Hurricane Sandy that it suffered a total loss of power despite multiple levels of redundant systems. At the time, there was no resolution in sight. Our backup fuel reserves and building infrastructure had been destroyed by Sandy's storm surge, which flooded many buildings downtown. As you may be aware, this was a historic and unprecedented storm for the entire tri-state region, bringing about the largest storm-related power outage ever in Con Edison's history.

I am proud to announce that throughout this event, Squarespace customers experienced absolutely no downtime related to the power outage. This is an amazing outcome considering the extraordinary circumstances we faced last week. What remains is an incredible story.

For those of you that haven't been following our updates, employees from Squarespace, Fog Creek, and Peer1 manually carried fuel up 17 flights of stairs for three days to save our generator while an interim fuel supply and pump could be installed...

We now have a working pump system delivering fuel to the roof generator, more than enough fuel on site, and a redundant street-level generator connected and tested as of last night. These systems will remain in place for the foreseeable future. Our building has still not been able to connect to Manhattan's power grid, as the building's two sub-basements were submerged in 30 feet of water that took four days to pump out. We will continue to post updates on status.squarespace.com as we resume normal operations.

Of course, such heroics should not be necessary to keep operations running smoothly. We initiated a plan to build a geographically redundant operation this past summer and expect to have it online in early 2013. This gives us the ability to route around areas affected by natural disasters much more effectively.

Ghosts ...

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.

You know those mornings when ...

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.

news ...

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.

An Open Road

Afoot and light-hearted, I take to the open road,

Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune—I myself am good fortune;
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,Strong and content, I travel the open road.

Walt Whitman

The quote was discovered over on the lovely Madelyn Mulvaney's blog and the image ... well, I took that one day in Italy while staying with Stefano and Miriam.

It's Autumn ...

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 ...

The Autumn Photography Workshop That Was - Antwerp

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.

On Blogging about Antwerp

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.

Things Left Behind ... (written in 2006)

Thing: an object that one need not, cannot, or does not wish to give a specific name to. (things) personal belongings or clothing. 2. an inanimate material object, especially as distinct from a living sentient being.

This morning it occured to me that my life has been so much about leaving things behind ...

And it should go without saying  that I miss people more than I miss things ... mostly but today I was thinking of things missed.

I lived in one house until I was 20 and so nothing prepared me for the constant stream-lining of possessions that lay ahead of me. I moved house at least 11 times during my 14 year marriage to a high school teacher back home.  And then, 4 times after the divorce,  before leaving for Turkey.  There were two homes in Istanbul and now here I am, almost possessionless again here in Belgium.

I had so many books, over 400, a beautiful desk and chair, and a bed that I loved, back in New Zealand ... photo albums, a material history made up of precious things.

I left my winter clothing in Istanbul, with other things abandoned when my excess book luggage cost me a cool 240 euro.

I was flying back there in September 2005 anyway, on my way home to New Zealand but I haven't managed that yet.  The Belgian distracted me and here I am, still waiting to be legal.  Then legal to work.

Here, in this new life, I have two journals, a laptop full of photographs, my cds and dvds, my camera gear and my books.

The oddest things make me remember those things I've loved in other places.  Yesterday I bought a new cup. I love beautiful cups and this cup, its shape, its colour, how it fits in my hand ... it's perfect.

The new cup made me nostalgic for beautiful things left behind ... in Istanbul and in New Zealand.

Mostly I don't think of these things but sometimes, just sometimes, I miss them.

Agrippina, the Opera, in Belgium

It happened quite unexpectedly ...

Tonight, a lovely friend in North Carolina wrote of his yearning to be in Belgium, in order to watch Ann Hallenberg perform in the Vlaamse Opera production, Agrippina.

I asked him about the location, he replied Gent and then wrote so many good things about Agrippina as an opera and about Ann as one of the best mezzo sopranos in the world that ... I just had to go and try booking a seat for my very first opera.

It worked, I am booked ... and now I'm really rather looking forward to this journey into a world I have only suspected I might love.

I recommend the youtube below.  It offers you a 'Backstage view of the opera production 'Agrippina', starring emperor Nero's power hungry mother. A baroque master piece by Händel, in an eighties styled version by Mariame Clément'.