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A sense of place and belonging is certainly shaken when oceans separate. I wrote of this last month with regards to Washington Irving’s Sketchbook which brought healing between the new American nation and its mother country, England, during the early days following the Revolution. It was the desire for the restoration of friendship that made the difference. These thoughts have been inside me as I have finished this first year of grief in an adopted land, often opposed to what is happening in the powerful land of my birth.  July 4th was the first anniversary of my husband’s death. For 14 days this month my husband’s last best friend, Thom Hickling, was here with his mother, Dolores, also a widow of six years, to see us through this time of closure. I have called their visit The First International Widows and Fatherless Tour. (I already have a second one in mind!) Thom, who works for International Living, is the one who told me about Escape from America magazine and suggested I write for it.

Thom, Dolores and Candy

This past year, Thom has been an almost daily internet friend seeing me work through stuff. He loved my husband deeply and they worked together for years in television production. He and his mother arrived on July 2. On the 4th, a group of about 40 of us gathered at the Cathedral in the Square for a memorial service putting the last of Tom’s remains in the columbarium wall. 

It was a wonderful service. Thom, in his heart of hearts a musician, spoke movingly of his love for Tom and then sang Bob Dylan’s You Gotta Serve Somebody. We left the Cathedral and processed outside to the wall. The remains were held by one of my sons while the other son said the Kaddish as my husband, while a Christian by faith, was born a Jew. 

At the appropriate time the priest opened a door which led into the darkness of the columbarium and stepped in with the remains. We waited in the light until she emerged from that darkness. Her actions seemed to symbolize the dark mystery of death and the bright hope of eternal life we can have as we continue on our own journeys. 

After this, for the next 12 days--Thom, his mother, and I—three souls, if you will, spent time getting to know each other better, each recovering from our own personal losses and pain. Grief is grief I have found this year, whether it be from death, divorce, or separation by time or distance from those we love. Dealing with the pain of grief is not something you can plan or programme, there is no set time when it is finished; it has its own ebb and flow, its own timing, like waves, which catch you by surprise. 
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Lewis Pass at dusk Glacier at Franz Joseph

After great pain, a formal feeling comes --
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs --
The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?

The Feet, mechanical, go round --
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought --
A Wooden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone --

This is the Hour of Lead --
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow --
First -- Chill -- then Stupor -- then the letting go –

Other creative artists, like Robert Louis Stevenson (who recommended that everyone come to New Zealand for refreshment) and Gaugain (who visited New Zealand before going on to his second and last trip to Tahiti) sought comfort and inspiration in the South Pacific. Recently, the author, Paul Theroux, used travels in this part of the world to deal with his personal grief (http://www.tqci.net/~houser/theroux/oceania.htm).

In my own journey, I have been moved emotionally for the majority of the year with tears flowing freely down my face. In the last few months I found myself sobbing deeply at strange times in strange places moved by things said in public. With the visit of these dear new friends--almost strangers, but close in our spirits because of a shared love for my husband--I have found myself weeping silently in the night waiting for some joy to take me by surprise in the morning. Many of the places we visited on a quick 4-day trip around the mid-section of the South Island during the past two weeks have helped me awaken to the joyful part of the process.
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"Heading down from Godley Head above Sumner you pass a high mountain rock face on the right and the barrenly majestic entrance to the harbour on the left."

But, the first place I wanted Thom and his mother to see was the ten minute drive my husband made everyday on the Summit Road between Sumner where he had his studio and Lyttelton where I live. It has got to be one of the most beautiful stretches of road in the world. Heading down from Godley Head above Sumner you pass a high mountain rock face on the right and the barrenly majestic entrance to the harbour on the left. Then the port of Lyttelton suddenly appears in all its continuous busy-ness. I had never thought about the spectacular approach to the harbour as anything but, well…a spectacular sight. (I always cry out “Beauty Alert” if anyone is in the car with me.) But when Thom, who grew up with family having boating experiences saw it he said he could imagine a sailor would have really enjoyed coming into such a big, welcoming harbour and sailing straight into the home port. I realize now this is one of the reasons Lyttleton, one of several choices in the early days, was finally decided upon as the harbour for Christchurch. No breakwaters make for smooth sailing.

Once out on the road, I fully realized there was not going to be time to do everything. I was a hostess in a tizzy in a tiny car. I remembered a 6 hour trip from Christchurch to Nelson had taken my older daughter and a friend 13 hours when they determined to stop and take in every bit of beauty they saw on the way. I was a bit disappointed in my lack of planning because we were going to places I had never seen and I had a developing sense of adventure about it all. Unpredictable winter weather kept things tenuous.

Should we head north or south became the question?  A southerly blast from Antarctica was predicted to hit further south on the island and move north. Weather was fine north around Kaikoura, so that’s where we headed. We decided to follow the sun. Not a bad plan as it turned out.

The first time I went to Kaikoura about six years ago, I wasn’t too impressed. It seemed like just another one street town, houses on the hillside surrounding a very rocky beach and an ocean that seemed suddenly very deep. I don’t remember taking in any of the spectacular views. I was with a group of other youthworkers just passing through on our way back from a conference. I remember stopping at a pleasant café. I knew the depth of the water had something to do with whales coming there. But, what a difference the time and money created by tourism can make. New Zealand is starting to look like it is prospering!

At dusk, the three of us arrived on the outskirts of town. We pulled over to the side of the road so Thom could get some shots of the sky and rocks in the setting sun. His mom and I stayed in the car and watched him disappear over the side of the road. Time passed and it began to seem a bit too long for taking pictures. I began to worry about this guy who had gone to Israel with my husband years before, covered his body with mud from the Dead Sea for some on-camera antics and broke his toe.

Then he reappeared, telling us to get out of the car and come see a colony of fur seals. He had discovered them when he almost stepped on one. (Lucky fella, because the seals have been known to roar and take a nip!) In addition to several seals on rocks nearby, six or so were stretched out, basking in the last rays of the low, weak sun on warm concrete blocks which served as supports for a low bridge. This was our introduction to Kaikoura in the winter time.

A couple of months ago, I joined YHA, the international youth hostel organisation. I am planning to do some travelling in the next couple of years and this trip was a kind of trial to see what staying in hostels was like. I have since found out that money can be earned by reviewing and taking pictures of hostel experiences (http://www.hostelz.com/reviewer/). YHA advertises this philosophy: join and save your hard-earned money for other things. Overall, they weren’t bad. Sort of a dorm-like atmosphere. Good safety practices. Kitchens. Opportunities to strike up conversations with strangers. 
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In Kaikoura at the hostel we met a General Practitioner travelling with her three children. She and her husband, a writer at home finishing a manuscript, had immigrated to New Zealand the year before. First she had a locum position on the North Island in a small town where they found the school systems not stimulating enough for their children. A move in the past year to Motueka, a lovely little town which sits at the entrance to the Abel Tasman National Park with its golden sands, has been a happy one. We talked about missing friends and family in the former homelands, uprooting children from all they have known, the dangers of looking back and the desire not to… In the morning we were delighted by the drama of a quick sunrise over the Kaikouras seen from the huge windows of the hostel. We had to decide what to do with our morning before heading off to who knew where next. Kaikoura (http://www.newzealandnz.co.nz/kaikoura/) has blossomed in the past 10 or so years due to activities like whale watching, ecotourism and night-sky watching. But, all of these things are dependent upon the weather conditions which can be a challenge during a winter visit to New Zealand.

Kaikoura

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Watching whales that morning was “iffy.” We could be put on a list for early afternoon and would learn at that time if a trip would be happening. But, we could take a boat going out within a half hour to see and feed albatross and other sea bird life. So that is what we did. It is basically speeding out to a point in the sea where the ocean is incredibly deep, seagulls in hot pursuit, opening a hatch that releases fish livers and waiting for the birds to come. Pleasant conve rsation with the pilot, hot chocolate and ginger snaps are provided. The 2-3 hour adventure is well worth the $60NZ. Click Here

That morning in Kaikoura we heard the weather on the West Coast was going to be fine the next day. The West Coast is known for its rainy weather—there was one year it rained every day for five months. By early afternoon, we were headed west through the Lewis Pass for the West Coast. In winter, it is dusky by 5PM, so as we approached Westport for the night, we could only see the outlines of the huge fern trees which grow in profusion on the other side of the Lewis Pass. 

It was on this day that I truly and fully realized I was going to be able to show my guests only a small part of the mid-section of the South Island. I desperately needed to relax and know that it was being together and sharing experiences and conversations of trust that were the main things of importance.

Our accommodation the second night in Westport was not as nice as the night before, but we did have an interesting evening dinner in a funky old hotel called The Red Dog. Dolores bravely ordered whitebait, a regional delicacy, and Thom and I watched her eat the small, thin, black-eyed critters doing service in an omelette.

In addition, we had hit the restaurant-cum-club on a night when a local band- made-good (Eight—anybody heard of them?) was playing for free on their welcome back to New Zealand from America tour. It was in Westport that Thom asked me if there were any New Zealand groups I thought could go international. Other than Hayley Westenra, who sings more classical music with the likes of Andre Bocelli these days (she is also a former classmate of my youngest daughter and sang in my home as a 12 year-old) my real choice of perfection is Bic Runga .

(http://www.bicrunga.net.nz/main.htm) A New Zealander of Maori and Chinese descent, Bic is now based in Paris. She is an exquisite performer. I saw her when she was first starting out singing in an open concert at the Arts Centre in Christchurch. My husband and I sat on the ground with a couple hundred others and were entranced. In Westport I bought her CD for us to listen to. I am listening to her music now as I write. She is expressing the natural Kiwi optimism in her song “Something Good.” It is what we all want to express when we think of friendships, new or old:

wanna know ya 
Just wanna talk to ya 
I wanna hear about your day 
I'd never leave ya 
Never be mean to ya 
I'd always let you get your way 

Something good will come our way 
And maybe this good thing's gonna happen today 

We awoke the next day to the promised fine weather and headed south along the West Coast towards the Franz Josef glacier where we planned to spend the next night. This was the beginning of two incredible days—a veritable feast for the eyes, as Templeton, the rat, says in Charlotte’s Web. 

Our main stop that day was in Punakaiki where the Pancake Rocks are. I had heard about them, but was not prepared for their magnificence. The whole site is very well planned. At (http://home.maine.rr.com/trudge/nz/p46panck.html) there is a site which describes a fellow traveller’s experiences in New Zealand and in particular Punakaiki. Little cafes with good coffee provided opportunities for deep and trust-filled conversations and we, happily, found ourselves losing track of time. 

It was in Punakaiki that I truly relaxed. I don’t know exactly why. It may have been the combination of exhaustion from driving, the pleasantness of the care we were all showing for each other…maybe it was reaching a place of such spectacular beauty you just wanted to lie down on the beach, put the sleeping bag over your head and let the world go away. (The sun coming out in a place where it can rain for five months straight must be special.) I plan to make a trip over there for my September holidays, either by myself or with another visiting American friend who will be in the country at that time. 

The YHA-associated hostel in Punakaiki is in a rain forest setting; small cabins nestle under trees and a walk leads to a broad expanse of a perfect-for-long-walks beach. The three of us lingered and wanted to stay longer on the beach. My thoughts, and maybe theirs, were about past love and hopes and dreams for the future, how the greatest pleasures in life are free—you just have to recognize them and take the time to get there:

And then it was on to Franz Josef and the prospect of seeing a glacier the next day. We sped down the road, catching a sunset in Ross, a gold mining town and stopping to enjoy the growing darkness and shadow of a lakeside while we nibbled on the crackers, cheese, tomatoes, olives and sips of the red Canterbury House wine called The Good Times. 

The hostel in Franz Josef was quite large. We had heard it was a good one. A bit too big for my taste, however.  All hostels seem to have internet hook-ups so staying in contact with the world outside is possible. This hostel has a sauna. There are also glow worms to be seen, so once we had established ourselves in our rooms, we met again in the lobby and armed with a torch (or flashlight) provided by the hostel we headed out in search of the glow worms.

I don’t know what I thought glow worms were. I had seen pictures of them in caves and thought they would look like a rather large worm with a glowing tail or something like that, but they are a completely different critter altogether (http://www.vic.com/new_zealand/adventures/caves.html). We seemed to me like three children walking into the woods that night--or at least I was one. Gnarled trees and fern trees towered over us making a canopy under the stars high above.

Literature calls places of advernture locus amoenus, or pleasant places.  Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream is an example. Traditionally, the adventures take place in May on warm days. Our adventure was certainly not in May and it was not warm, but it was pleasant, even though it took us three attempts to find the glow worms! We were beginning to think looking for glow worms might be a Kiwi version of snipe hunting—Sure, take this torch and go see the awesome glow worms...they’re right down the road in those woods. 

On the first try, we went completely past the turn into the woods and found ourselves walking across a bridge over seemingly very troubled waters before turning back, knowing we had gotten off course. The second attempt involved entering the woods and going too far. I found myself caught up imagining that freezing drops of water hanging from ferns and reflecting light from the torch must be the glow worms. The Power of Positive Delusional Thinking!
 

Kaikoura at sunset

Picnic at lake at sunset

Before the third assault, we asked someone back out on the street what we should do. He assured us the glow worms were indeed back there in that pleasant place. They were in the exposed roots of a huge overturned tree, he said. So, back into the locus amoenus we went, arms linked so we didn’t trip over tree roots.  And then we truly found them! All I can say is that they are a magical experience, a sky beneath a sky, a world within a world.

The next day viewing the Franz Josef glacier was an interesting experience. Apparently, its more complete uniqueness happens the closer you get to it. We didn’t get too close as it the approach involves walking across a river bed of rocks. However, it was fun to observe hiking parties armed with pick axes and big grins on their early morning faces coming up the path, kited out in uniform jackets, as we were leaving. They might be going further, but we got there earlier! Another trip would seem in order to take in all three of the glaciers in this region of the South Island. 

Weather for the next day was predicted to be good for travelling back to Christchurch through Arthur’s Pass. Two days before the pass had been closed and the day before chains were required, so we needed to take advantage of the timing. Arthur’s Pass, which just last year was an often dangerous place to travel due to falling rocks, has a new and unique viaduct making the trek dramatic and enjoyable. We were greeted at a viewing spot at the top by the kea, a bird which has been known to eat the rubber seals off parked cars!

As we wound back down into the plains of Canterbury on Friday, July 9, we expressed wonder at tropical-looking vegetation thriving in an alpine environment. Perhaps, we too, can appear and even feel too fragile and delicate to survive, but find ourselves enduring the harder seasons of life.

On Saturday with my home as our base, we took a trip around the Banks Peninsula, and over to Akaroa, the French settlement on the opposite side. Akaroa is best on a sunny, sunny day with lots of time to wander in and out of shops. Our day was overcast, but spectacular nonetheless. This was the beginning of the week the town was to celebrate Bastille Day (http://www.akaroa.com/Service.cfm?RealmID=11&CategoryID=&ServiceID=450&SearchKey=). The views descending into the tiny harbour village are almost unbelievably picturesque.

There were many other more wonderful and personal things that happened during this visit. Just spending a whole day with other human beings was part of it. Words to another Bic Runga song “When I See You Smile” speak to me of this special time. 

The words also make me think of you, the readers of my articles. Thank you all so much for your emails and encouragement throughout this time. It has brought me comfort and happiness during the past seven months to hear from you that I have made you smile or laugh.

Some of you even think I am brave at a time when I often feel unsure about the direction of my life. Your interest in New Zealand has made me feel less lonely. You have given me a gift of friendship by letting me know the world is not such a scary place to be alone in. Perhaps it is even a locus amoenus.

As you read Bic’s words, we can think of our greatest love as that desire we all have for to live in a more peaceful, sane world and the secret that we can share is the boldness to step out and do something about it. We will be rewarded openly by being able to wear smiles on our faces.

When I see you smile
It feels like I'm falling
It's not for anybody else to know
The way your face could light the bitter dark of every street
In every town I'll ever go
It's not for anybody else to know
For anybody else to know

When I see you smile
First thing in the morning
It raises curtains on your lazy eyes
Could it be that you and I have the greatest love to ever be 
How could this have ever been before?
It's not for anybody else to know
For anybody else to know

The following are the previous articles that Candy has written about New Zealand for the magazine:

Living In New Zealand ~ Answers & Anecdotes Part 1
Life, Liberty, The Pursuit Of Happiness And Dying - Reflections On Immigration To New Zealand
Is There Trouble In Paradise? - In New Zealand
Answers & Anecdotes, Part 2  - More On Living In New Zealand
Walking On Mountains: What’s Love Got To Do With It? - From New Zealand To Norfolk Island
Cheering Up Down Under ~ In New Zealand 

To contact Candy Click Here
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