My Dad ...

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.

My Friend Fiona, and her Kiwi Bloke, Barry

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.

Steven Clothier's Corrugated Creations

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.

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.

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.

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.