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Breathing In And Out Of New Zealand
Feeling At Home
by Candy Green
The Latin word for island is insula. The Romans lived in apartment-type buildings in blocks surrounded by streets: islands. We get our English words insular and insulation from it. New Zealand is an island nation, surrounded by vast oceans. But, Kiwis are not an insulated people—they do not insulate themselves or their houses! However, now that spring is here we are getting out of our cold houses and thinking about what we will do outside them. These activities can be as close as our gardens, but also far away from them. I have been doing both.

I have loved to garden for many years now. It seemed to come with having a family. Simple yard work began with our first home in West Lebanon, New Hampshire, with the planting of trees and perennials in the 1970s.


 
Then we moved up the road to Hanover into the original Episcopal church building which had been deconsecrated and made into a dwelling in the 1930s. There, my gardening was mainly pruning and learning to care for raspberries. 

Then deciduous and fruit trees were planted in piney South and North Carolina in the 1980s. During the 1990s, a long stay in a small farmhouse on a hillside in Pennsylvania near the Old William Penn Highway taught me more about perennials, pruning and maintaining. I also learned about allergies!

When we were preparing for the move to New Zealand, I was hopeful I would get over the allergies in a new place. Oh no, the doctor said, New Zealand has one of the highest pollen counts in the world! http://www.allergyclinic.co.nz/guides/16.html

What to do? Did I let that stop me? Allergies be damned, full speed ahead for the Promised Land. But the first time the wind blew hard in Christchurch, the Garden City, I had a memorable allergy attack.

Many people in New Zealand have allergies and asthma.

The subject is a regular feature in newspapers. Early on I read about a man from Russia who was coming to speak about a cure he had for allergies. The newspaper said it had to do with breathing—something we need to be able to do! I didn’t go to the meeting, but I did think about it. I tried breathing more deeply. It seemed to help a bit.

Then, one night, at a 21st birthday party for a family friend, I got to talking to a man about allergies. Doesn’t everyone? I told him about the Russian’s comments. Oh, yes, he said, I went to his talks and it works!

The idea is to breathe slowly in through the nose, flaring the nostrils and letting them bear down on the upper lip as much as possible.

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Breathe slowly, take air as deeply into the lungs as possible. Do this over and over again when you feel the mucous membranes swelling because of the irritants.The idea is that our bodies have natural anti-histamines, but that when the membranes swell most of us give up and take something. We insulate ourselves. 

By breathing deeply and taking the irritants in, our bodies will come up with the anti-histamines naturally. It has worked for me now for about five years. Good luck and don’t let it keep you from coming to New Zealand!

But, for over a year now, I have not really been outside to work in my beautiful garden overlooking the harbour of Lyttelton. My Scottish neighbours down the street, Roddy, an emergency room doctor and Susannah, a cellist with the Christchurch Symphony, told me about the gardener they have been using. 

He is good at cleaning up, they said. Just what I need, I thought, as I love to prune and plant. My wonderful meandering paths, created by Joanna, the previous owner, are the biggest mess right now.

Lamb’s ears, left to grow a year ago in the paths when they were as small as…well, baby bunnies’ ears, have multiplied like…well, rabbits. I had tried contracting someone to come and do the tidy up in one fell swoop, but it didn’t appeal to me. Having this fellow come and be paid by the hour seems better. 

And so, Phil came for the first time the other day. I told him I had been widowed the year before and hadn’t been out into the garden much, but that I would like to work along with him. For an hour we cleared paths and bundled cabbage tree fronds for kindling next winter. Then he left me to work by myself.

I had a memory I needed to get over: When it would get dark, my husband would open the side window in the dining area and call softly, “Candy, Candy….” as if a parent were calling a child, “Come in, come in. It’s dark outside.

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For the past year, I have been insulating myself from my garden.

Roddy and Susannah have both experienced the loss of their fathers. Roddy, the doctor, told me medical literature reveals grief as a three-year process. The first year it is inwardly directed, hence (hence is a Kiwi expression!) my insulation. The second and third years are a moving out into the world and can be compared to adolescence. There is self-consciousness and experimentation, hence my worries about my appearance and whether I can travel by myself successfully.

But, Kiwis are known as great travellers. And I want to be more like a Kiwi. Perhaps, the ability to look outward has something to do with being an island nation, always looking out to what’s beyond. Both the Maori and the English share this heritage.

When our family first came to New Zealand, I remember being struck by the objectivity the people seem to have, an ability to be more analytical about the world, less insulated. Able to go out into the world, see it from a distance, they bring back what they want, “tweak it to suit,” and make it their own.

At the beginning of this month I got permission from my school board to take the first two terms of 2005 off. This will mean that from the end of this school year in early December, 2004, to the end of July, 2005, I will not be earning my regular income. I want to do this adventure the Kiwi way which means as economically as possible! 

Last month I wrote about the great airfares, especially for round the world trip tickets. These tickets require that you pick a direction and keep heading that way until you complete the circle. I was intending to go West, starting with a stop in Hawaii to see my sister, my mother-in-law and meet up with friends.

It made sense to me: I would start here in the Newer World, the outposts of western civilisation. Then, move through the New World, the United States. Then over to the Old World of Europe. Then the even Older World of India and Asia before arriving back in New Zealand.

The next day, my Head of Department handed me an advert (another Kiwisim). She thought I might be interested in what it said:

EXPERIENCE THE REAL CHINA!

Your future is to spend three months teaching English In Lanzhou, Gansu Province - all expenses paid, good care, modest salary.

It is a sister city thing between Christchurch and Lanzhou. I will have to apply. The position requires an initial three-month contract to see if there is a good fit and then it can be extended. It involves teaching teachers. Rewi Alley, a New Zealander, and friend of Mao and Che Guevara, worked there for 8 years http://www.nzedge.com/heroes/alley.html. I will have to find out more about this guy!

All this to say that heading around the world in another direction has got me spinning. But, I am going to apply and then deal with it after I hear. It does seem like a wonderful opportunity and just the kind of thing that can happen in New Zealand.

More recently, at the end of the last week of the school holidays, I flew across “the ditch” to Sydney, Australia. (The ditch is another name for the Tasman Sea separating Australia and New Zealand.) I wanted to give the city another chance. I had hated it on a 12-hour layover three years ago on the way back to New Zealand from Hawaii.

The city came through. 

And this is not just because my youngest daughter, Hadassah, the most Kiwi-like of us all, is there now. She and Adam, the leader of their folky/rocky/bluesy singing group, The Bittersweet, met me at the airport.

Within minutes we were on an incredibly efficient train system and into the city. We were able to walk through the city, through Chinatown, through darling Darling Harbour and to my hotel in Ultimo, near the Powerhouse Museum  http://travel.yahoo.com/p-travelguide-2754731-monorail_sydney-i .

When we looked a bit lost, a woman came out of her way to ask if we needed help. I remembered my father, whose US Navy ship docked in Sydney, saying that he had always thought Americans were the friendliest people until he met Australians. It seems to still be true.

Even though it rained almost every day, I had a wonderful time. In five days, the three of us went to five movies. We walked and walked. The duo showed me their workplaces. Adam’s is on Pitt Street in a bookstore. Das’s in Circular Quay at an Italian restaurant. 

I soon realized I had left my camera at home. The Duty Free shop provided me another one. The salesman was Attila, a Hungarian immigrant who advised my daughter to have her adventures when she was young.  He does reviews for a wine-tasting magazine we discovered. He thought I was energetic for a widow!

My daughter introduced me to an American traveller, Jill, a wandering soul from Wyoming who is working in Australia for the second time. She gave me some idea of how to live on the road cheaply. She had stayed in Europe in 2002 for eight months and lived on $3500US! I told Jill she should write an article for Escape from America magazine.

I loved the exhibit by South African artist William Kentridge at the Contemporary Museum of Art
http://www.mca.com.au/default.asp?page_id=10&content_id=81 and http://www.artthrob.co.za/99may/artbio.htm . In fact, I was so stimulated I couldn’t view it all.

It was great in Sydney, to see my Kiwi-ised daughter and her Kiwi love singing and playing together at Mojo’s, a really cool record store. They were conquering a city in their own way, making plans to go on to Nashville when they have saved enough money. 

I heard my lyrics put to music, songs sung in a strange land. As I walked Sydney, Australia’s streets and gazed at its buildings I felt its architectural links to both Christchurch in New Zealand and Honolulu in the United States.

It continues to be a small world after all. Everything can be redeemed..
.
My departure involved the plane being delayed on the ground. The international flight of only three hours involved going through customs at 1AM. Even so, it was wonderful to be back in New Zealand, to the insulation of this island nation. To breathe slowly. To risk allergies. To feel at home again.

Kia Ora!

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

To contact Candy Click Here

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