“I love this place. I love this city.” This is the silent mantra that played in my head this year each time we visited a new part of Auckland. Or each time we drove home from school pick-ups and saw the serene turquoise of the harbour mouth, the bush-covered ranges, the startling red of Pohutakawa flowers against the deep blue sky.
For the nature lover, NZ is pure paradise. For the biker, the camper, the hitch-hiker, the adventurer, the loner, the tramper, the mountain climber, the river rafter, the ocean kayaker, opportunities abound in a mostly unspoilt, always un-crowded setting.
We never did the boerewors, beer and braaivleis thing back in SA, so we don’t miss any part of SA culture. We fit better here with the European immigrants tha
n we did back in SA. On every level, in every way, coming here has given us the life we always wanted: open, carefree, lots of interesting people in an interesting community, loads of friends for my kids who like nature, clambering up trees and scouring beaches for treasures. My little girl skypes her old friends back home and they stare blankly at her precious kauri gum collection, her worm farm, her crystal and shell collection from the last year. They don’t get it because their lives are restricted to back gardens and shopping malls. That crazy, dirty, outdoorsy kind of childhood is dying out in the SA city suburbs.
So what made the first year so much easier than expected? We could have settled for one of the few mouldy rentals we found, but we took the massive risk of buying a house instead – after only three weeks in a country we had never seen before. We could have chosen a built-up suburb with massively expensive shacks, but we opted for a small lifestyle block in a community that suits us (Noordhoek is the closest equivalent that comes to mind). We wrote down what we wanted a year before we arrived, and we fought for it.
For the nature lover, NZ is pure paradise. For the biker, the camper, the hitch-hiker, the adventurer, the loner, the tramper, the mountain climber, the river rafter, the ocean kayaker, opportunities abound in a mostly unspoilt, always un-crowded setting.
We never did the boerewors, beer and braaivleis thing back in SA, so we don’t miss any part of SA culture. We fit better here with the European immigrants tha
n we did back in SA. On every level, in every way, coming here has given us the life we always wanted: open, carefree, lots of interesting people in an interesting community, loads of friends for my kids who like nature, clambering up trees and scouring beaches for treasures. My little girl skypes her old friends back home and they stare blankly at her precious kauri gum collection, her worm farm, her crystal and shell collection from the last year. They don’t get it because their lives are restricted to back gardens and shopping malls. That crazy, dirty, outdoorsy kind of childhood is dying out in the SA city suburbs.So what made the first year so much easier than expected? We could have settled for one of the few mouldy rentals we found, but we took the massive risk of buying a house instead – after only three weeks in a country we had never seen before. We could have chosen a built-up suburb with massively expensive shacks, but we opted for a small lifestyle block in a community that suits us (Noordhoek is the closest equivalent that comes to mind). We wrote down what we wanted a year before we arrived, and we fought for it.
We also integrated really well into our community and found friends and a camaraderie we didn’t ever have in SA, even with a large group
of close friends. Here it feels like a tribe of friends who want to socialise with you. If I say I’m joining Toastmasters, then I have a gang of girls wanting to
join me. If one of them signs up for Boot Camp, we all get an invite. We
do a weekly walk, beach suppers down the road, loads of parties,
dinners and pizza nights and our kids live at each other’s houses. This
works for me.Having family (cousins and an aunt and uncle) here also helped enormously. We knew, if things went badly wrong, we had someone to talk to. Better yet, their generosity and willingness to be part of our lives have been astounding. We met my little "niece" who instantly crept into our hearts. Playing with her is a real highlight, as my children have never yet had the privilege of cousins. They absolutely adore her.
The
re are, of course, things I don’t like about NZ (although can’t think of one right now). If I wanted to, I could dwell on them and even get a bit down about them. But somehow they don’t count that much. I like the things I don’t like here, too. They make NZ what it is. Out of all the imperfect countries in the whole, imperfect
world, NZ is the most perfect choice we could have made.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t get pangs of homesickness, usually at inopportune times, like preparing a Christmas meal and then bursting into tears because it’s the first Christmas in 37 years without my mom and dad. Or, as happened on the day of our one-year anniversary here, I thought I’d be bursting to get this celebratory post out, and instead, I thought, “OK, holiday’s over. Time to get back to SA.” Just like that. Out of the blue.
Suddenly my memories of SA were confined to sublime Summers and white sand beaches, towering craggy mountains and friends and family. I couldn’t remember one good reason why we had decided to leave.
Luckily a few hours trawling the SA news sites quickly reminded me why I will never be going back.
Now that we enter our second year, I can no longer say, “We got here a few months ago.” It’s like we were engaged, but now we are married. There’s a new sense of commitment and permanence, even if it’s with an unexpected tinge of sadness that our “bloodline continues here”.
The reality of
the move has sunk in, and while we had a glorious year, it will take a few more full moons, I think, before we finally call this home.
2 comments:
I didn't even know you have a blog till now!
It's a very nice and interesting read. Hopefully soon, you will be able to call Nz 'home'. :)
Yes, started it in SA as we started the process. When I read the old posts, I remember how scared we were.
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