Haere mai, Leila. x
Coast to Coast Crew 2014
Rēkohu (Chatham Island)
Some of my mahi in The Kiwi Diary 2014
Port Chalmers
“Look at the sky: that is for you. Look at each person's face as you pass on the street: those faces are for you. And the street itself, and the ground under the street, and the ball of fire underneath the ground: all these things are for you. They are as much for you as they are for other people.
Remember this when you wake up in the morning and think you have nothing.”
Miranda July - No One Belongs Here More Than You
Southern Route - Te Anau to Wanaka
Gie him strong drink until he wink, // That's sinking in despair;
An' liquor guid to fire his bluid, // That's prest wi' grief and care:
There let him bouse, an' deep carouse, // Wi' bumpers flowing o'er,
Till he forgets his loves or debts, // An' minds his griefs no more.
(Robert Burns, 1785)
Whenever I see a whiskey bottle I remember my Papa; my mother's father, a staunch Scotsman who enjoyed a wee dram on the odd occasion (particularly at Christmas) and who, if the timing was right, enough of the amber elixir had been consumed, the sun had gone down and the stars had aligned, would treat us to a few verses of an old Scottish folk song, in a clear and haunting tenor voice that I so much wish I could hear again. Out of disdain for the winter weather, and a need to have a break from my studies, I made a whiskey cake today and thought of him. Cheers, Papa.
(Recipe here).
We packed at the end of a stress-laden Friday and started to drive as the sun went down. We drove in the dark with the road to ourselves, and the cold night shut out by our makeshift shield - a collage constructed from a protesting heater, a flask of tea, improvised song solos, and comedic interludes inspired by our many road trips passed. We fell asleep to the sound of the sea, and woke to its breathe in our lungs. It was just what we needed.
Kia ora, Kaikoura.
Tūī - Te Anau
That time I had a thing for vintage teacups.