home?

MONDAY 18 December 2006

9:15 am

On the deck outside our new house, laptop on lap, feeling the warm sun and chilly air with fleece and lap rug. The sound of rolling waves competes with the buzz of a tablesaw from the renovation project across the street. I am alone in the house for the first time, wandering around the rooms, straightening up from breakfast, getting ready for the delivery of the new washer, drier, dishwasher, and cooktop (“hob” here). There’s a pungent, green smell in the air that feels distinctively New Zealand.

This was, not surprisingly, a weekend of errands. We had billions of things to buy and arrange and unpack. We spent more time than I’d like in the mall in Paraparaumu, and did lots of reflecting about mall culture, and the differences between the US and NZ. The mall is very recognizable, not Pentagon City, quite, but easily Augusta Mall (before its downturn). It’s surrounded by a strip mall with grocery stores, discount stores, appliance stores. You walk into any one of those and it’s like being back in the US—the Beatles on the sound system, flat screen TVs blaring Disney movies with glassy-eyed kids waiting for their parents to buy less sexy electronics. And you walk out, and you look at green hills in one direction and the mountain that is Kapiti island, pushing out of the sea in the other direction. And the 10 minute drive to the mall is through hills covered with sheep and with glimpses of the Tasman Sea. We found hangers and a broom and peanut butter (although still no unsweetened chocolate—what kind of country is this??) and, with the many many things we’ve borrowed from T and K and their friends, our house is quite set up.

It wasn’t all errands, though. On Saturday night we had Trish and Keith over to decorate our Christmas tree with the ornaments we shipped over before we left the states. It’s a funny tree, rambly and bendy, with a relatively small number of long furry branches instead of the many shorter, rigid branches we’d have on a tree at home. Then, continuing the interfaith tradition, last night (Sunday) we had a Hanukkah party here, with Trish and Keith, and Trish’s sister Marianne and her son Gabriel and Naomi’s friend Finlay. I made latkes in the new kitchen, Marianne brought a broccoli salad, and Trish made brownies for dessert. It was lovely with candles and prayers and then children roaring around the house and yard and finally settling in with the bubbles and sidewalk chalk Marianne had brought. When Finlay’s father came to pick her up, he sat down at the table and chatted for a while—about emigration (he’s from England) and living at the beach and about the local school. The house was filled with good smells and laughter and easy conversation in multiple accents, and it nearly felt like home.

It is home, I suppose, this little cottage by the sea. These tropical flowers are mine--geranium bushes and ginger flowers and cala lilies, and a lemon tree with a ripening lemon off the back deck. And this broad deck is mine and this house with a foreign hardwood floor—this is my home right now. I wander between the joy of being finally alone and unscheduled (for this one day—tomorrow I go into NZCER and the next day the kids have only a half-day for the day before summer vacation) and the worry that blissful alone can turn to lonely when you’re by yourself 8500 miles from friends and family. So I’ll watch that and see. Mostly, I think the news is that this is a lovely house, and a friendly little village, and that we’ve got the convenience of being a spectacularly beautiful 40 minute train ride from the capital city.

I’m hoping forwarded mail will soon get here, and that there will be holiday cards with messages and pictures of people who are around the world from me. And that we’ll be able to stay in touch with each other—you from your computer wherever you are, and me from my laptop by the sea. It’s not a bad life at home in New Zealand.

Much love,

j