For those who don’t know, I’ve been living in New Zealand for the past two years. Last week, I left.
It’s no more than one stage of my life finishing, and another beginning. But the memories created while at the bottom (or top?) of the world have been among the best in my life.
Obviously there are some things I won’t miss. The excessive drinking culture. The reckless drivers. The ridiculously expensive books.
But no country is perfect, and I have nothing but fondness for the small country at the end of the world. Five things I will miss the most: (more…)
In New Zealand, any hike that doesn’t require staying overnight is called a walk. Even if you’re hiking for 8 hours over alpine scrub, it’s a walk. But an overnight hike – now that’s a tramp. (Bloody Kiwis.)
I went away on holiday this week, and had a fabulous time. Did some tramping, did some shopping, ate mussels, and even got some review reading in. That’s all good. But what made my holiday great were the people I met; specifically, at the B&Bs where I stayed. 
The first week of school holidays was entirely devoted to sleeping and reading, in that order. But the second week I got my hair cut, went to the National Army Museum, looked at my calendar, and realized I hadn’t ventured beyond 30 km of town and holidays were almost over. So I packed a bag and drove across the North Island to Napier. 
One of the most enduring wood-chopping images in my mind comes from one of my favourite movies, an MGM musical from the 1950s called Seven Brides for Seven Brothers
