I've come back to New Zealand, after 8 years away, clear on some of the things I need to see, do, and taste however there are other things ... things that have startled me as they have turned my head, again and again and again.
I've fallen for fern fronds in a fairly major way. The hotel manager here in Fox Glacier just discovered me out in the front garden and introduced me to the hotel's private garden.
It was grand out there ...
This morning, alarm set for 5.30, I woke at 5.25 and quickly dressed then set up the small video camera out on the verandah. My voice recorder too.
Last night, Gert and I had prepared both pieces of equipment for this morning, wanting to capture something of New Zealand's dawn chorus on video and audio here in Manapouri, Fiordland.
I miss the birds in Belgium. I miss the Bellbirds and the Tuis. I miss the familiarity of the birdsongs I've grown up hearing, consciously or unconsciously, and I wanted to try recording something of them.
Gert offered up his video camera so that I would have a little bit more memory and it turns out that our cabin, here on Hunter and Clare's property in Fiordland, looks straight out across a tree-filled landscape and on out to the mountains in the distance.
I was hoping for a bit of a sunrise video too but that was a little problematic, as the early morning cloud didn't burn off till after 8am.
So there I was, siting out on the verandah, with the equipment (such as it is) as all those trees … the cabbage trees most specifically, quietly exploded with the sounds of 100s of bird voices welcoming the new day.
It was like a wall, or perhaps being enclosed in a bubble, of familiar sound … a sound that I love.
And the air, have I written of the air here?
Fiordland's air is one of the sweetest in the world, to me. I sniff it like a wine connoisseur might smell a wine. It seems to be a mix of grass and stones, of the cabbage trees in flower, the beech forests that cover the land/ But more than that, here on the property, there are eucalyptus trees and all kinds of others too.
The most dominant scent out there was the sccent of water on river stones …or that was my interpretation. Over breakfast, just now, Clare explained that the watertable here is high and so perhaps I can smell the water just under the land I'm walking.
But I love water. New Zealand water, in all its forms. The Tautuku bush walk after or during rain. The smell of sun-warmed wet river stones. The sea. The torrential downpours that fall here in the South Island's rainforest country.
Then there's the quality of the light. It has caught me this time. Belgium has a high population density and the European traffic that flows through my adopted country means that I long for the sweet clean air of places like Fiordland … that place I spent two years living back in the 90s.
Gert and I squint when the sun is out. We are stunned by the light on these exquisite landscapes and, this morning, watching the morning light gently unfold … that has been something rather beautiful.
My senses are so enjoying this homecoming …
I found a whitebait supplier a couple of nights ago and here they are, all cooked up ... half for Gert and I, half for my little sister.
It's one of those exquisite New Zealand delicacies that I've dreamed about tasting again ...
The photograph below doesn't really capture why I might feel passionate about this particular beach here in New Zealand and it's frustrating because Long beach is so definitely my beach.
My 17-year-old niece, the lovely Georgia, drove us out there yesterday and finally, it felt like I had returned ... completely returned.
Long Beach is located over the back of Dunedin city - turn left just before Port Chalmers, climb up into the hills and drive towards the east coast a while.
The sun was out, as was the tide, and the beach was like all of my favourite beaches here ... almost empty.
Cooper, the happy hound, fulfilled his role and chased the tennis ball endlessly. And that was me, looking like the happiest little kid ... just quietly wandering along the waters edge.
The yellow lupins were in full-bloom and, honestly, they would have to be my favourite flower. They have this delicate scent that, when mixed with the smell of the sea, is as close to heaven as I can get.
We sat in the sun out there on the beach, simply breathing in the best of New Zealand's air - 2 lovely nieces, my sister and brother-in-law, and the Belgian bloke too - just enjoying being there, back on that beach I love so well.
Kathleen put out the challenge and here I am, still blogging those things that make me happy ...
This is our dining room/lounge area - taken a few moments ago. There's a lot of happy here.
I love the colours Gert painted it, partially inspired by Monet's kitchen in France. We loved the yellow there. Then you can see Amedeo's painting resting between my two photographs taken in Istanbul. I adore that painting because it was gift from Amedeo, because he's hugely talented and because he painted me a photography shop there in the city of Genova.
Most of the furniture you see in the photograph is secondhand. Gert and I are divorce orphans. Our divorces pretty much took everything we had accrued over our 12 and 14 years of marriage and voila, later, when we met each other, we had to begin again.
Children, stay married, or get pre-nups because divorce can be a vicious beast if you end up on the wrong side.
Anyway, I love the oak table pictured, found for 70 euro at our favourite secondhand shop here in the city. I introduced Gert to secondhand treasures and he quickly succumbed to its curious charm. The chairs were 65 euro for the lot and the red couch in the background ... it was something very reasonable that I fell for too, writes this woman who is easily made happy with treasure found secondhand.
Oh! And, there on the big wooden cabinet, are flowers by Dieter. We really like Dieter because he's a lovely man and makes the best flowers arrangements. I changed this one a little because I was rushing but, truly, his arrangements are beautiful artworks.
Whenever I leave Genova, I go through a withdrawal as I leave the source of some truly superb coffee, found at Caffè degli Specchi.
I know there's a shift to make ... from the sublime back to the-best-I-can-find-here.
This was my answer to the spotty quality of coffee found outside of Genova. A small machine, the most I could afford and yes, it makes me happy.
The small cup is just the perfect size. An exquisite gift from the mother of my first husband, given to me when she came over and spent a couple of weeks with us last summer. Thank you, Valda :-)
