Summertime in Paradise

Learning how to chill in New Zealand takes lots of practice.

Feeling chill on my 7^th day in a row of swimming. My local beach is a short walk from my house. Each day, I check the tide and wind direction before I suit up (wind direction determines which beach is best for swimming). Every day, I make a bit more effort as my limbs loosen and embrace the weightlessness of salt water. The sea is 22 degrees Celcius. Just perfect.

As city folk rush to their family bach or favourite campsite, Auckland goes quiet.

I realize non-Kiwis won’t know what we call a bach (pronounced ‘batch’) or crib is the iconic holiday home often a casual DIY affair. My two most memorable encounters with bachs were at Paunui, an idealic family beach south of Auckland. The first was literally a garage perched on a pa (a tall volcanic structure jutting above the sea) with 2 notable features: a flush toilet and a kitchen bench with cold running water. Two lucky people got the flea-bitten bunks. I was glad I had brought a sleeping bag and that the kikuyu grass outside was cushiony. The second was a very old neglected house which nobody seemed to mind. Second homes are surprisingly modest even for the well-to-do. Kids are stacked in bunks and sleepouts with their cousins. Extended families spread out on huge beach blankets with guitars and serious amounts of kai (food) for the day. City beaches are awash with boom boxes blaring music. A familiar tinkling sound announces Mr. Whippie’s arrival offering hand-dipped cones of soft swirl ice cream.

We take our holidays seriously in New Zealand. Relaxing takes some practice to perfect but it’s worth the effort. You soon learn that rushing is not allowed and talking politics is frowned upon. If someone should happen to descend the moment they hear your American accent with complaints about ‘that man,’ try: “Merry Christmas to you!” with a smile. Kiwis get it.

The country is effectively closed for at least another week. Most companies aren’t really back in full swing until early February. I contemplate a splurge at Katmandu waving my member vouchers at their 50% off sale. There is no traffic to contend with. I’ve already ordered my weekly veggies and fruit box delivery, so I have very little reason to go anywhere.

It has taken me years to get used to having Christmas in the summertime. “Summertime…and the livin’ is easy!” with a slow jazzy vibrato reverberates in my memory. “Su-u-mer-ti-ime….and the livin’ is fiiiiiine!”

I’ve come to relish this rare sense of time and space afforded to New Zealanders to spend our holidays however we like. Space from so many events and cares. The rest of the world seems far away because it is.

Listening to the sea sway gently in and out, I am thankful for 7 perfect days. Dry weather is somewhat rare in Auckland this time of year. One day, around day 4, a small cloud blew over me while I was in the sea. Rain droplets danced on the surface with a delightful smacking, drumming sound. I watched as the rain shroud swept onto Rangitoto, obliterating the view and passing in a few minutes. The air felt even cleaner if that’s possible. My skin tingled in the slight breeze as I walked out of the sea. My beach towel was soaked, leaving a perfect dry rectangle underneath. Did I mention the quiet? The only sounds audible above the breeze are a few kids playing and the gulls screeching on their flyby. Coming home to a warm shower was heaven.

Warmer nights mean open windows. Few homes have screens here. The flies seem to have moved on, and mosquitoes have not yet arrived. I wandered in the garden, humming as I water my thirsty tomatoes, peppers and citrus trees. A few herbs are sacrificed for dinner. I grate some Puhoi parmesan for my pesto pasta. Birds are chirping their night sounds now. A book awaits me from the stack. I’m all set.

Come on down, the water really is fine!