Let me start by apologizing for not having posted since August. So much for my intention of starting a blog where I’d be “posting regularly” and “keeping my readers engaged”. My only partial excuse for my lapse in posts is that I have a lot less time to write now that I work full-time, but I could *absolutely* be watching fewer Netflix true crime documentaries and making better use of the free time that I do have. I actually have been writing; I have more than two dozen draft posts going at any given time. I just haven’t managed to finish anything since…well, since August, apparently.
Anyway, I have an unexpected day off due to torrential downpours, so I’m finally ripping off the bandaid (“plaster”) and finishing this one.
Moving on to the aforementioned “SO much to fill you in on.”
Last Wednesday was, according to the calendar and the humbling number of messages I received from both sides of the pond, “my birthday.” But it didn’t feel like my birthday. At all. Because in New Zealand, being born on December 4th means you have a summer birthday.
For the majority entirety of my life until this point, I’ve had a winter birthday, which, where I’m from, means 1. zero leaves on the trees 2. permanently overcast grey skies 3. occasional snow 4. utter darkness and despair when the anemic “sunlight” disappears at 4:30 pm 5. temperatures cold enough that you can see your breath outside and 6. all the mini golf courses where as a kid you desperately wanted to have your birthday party are shuttered for the season and all of those alluring, giant, colorful animal and pirate figurines are wrapped up tightly against the damage of a harsh New England winter. So having everyone wish me a Happy Birthday on a 74 degree, humid, sunny day where everyone was out and about enjoying the beautiful weather and the mini golf course was open felt like all of my friends and family had collectively decided to prank me with birthday messages. It was, no exaggeration, surreal. And Stu, who’s birthday is in July–a winter birthday here in New Zealand–would have a summer birthday in the States. It’s like having upside-down birthdays. 🙃 🎂
Sunday, December 1st was the first official day of summer here in New Zealand. Their seasons begin on the first day of every third month: December 1 marks the start of summer, March 1 is fall, June 1 is winter, and September 1 is spring; so easy to remember! It definitely feels like summer, but it doesn’t even remotely feel like December. The weather here right now is in the high 60s to low 70s, mostly full sun, occasionally muggy and humid. The intense sunlight, blossoming pōhutukawa trees (aka the New Zealand Christmas Tree, pictured here), summer attire everywhere, ads on the radio announcing summer events, and stores prominently displaying summer merchandise next to Christmas merchandise while “Santa Baby” plays throughout the building is confusing the hell out of me. IT’S SO WEIRD YOU GUYS.
But a lot more than upside-down birthdays and intense seasonal confusion has happened since August. In no particular order:
1. I got a new car–an equal parts really reliable and really funky-looking old Totoya Echo (an Echo is sort of like a Yaris squished into a cube shape). I found out in September that my dear old Alfa needed a new engine. I don’t know a lot about cars, but I was correct in assuming that I could get an *entire other car* for less than it would cost me to replace an entire Alfa Romeo engine.
2. I booked the Whitianga Town Hall for 9 days in January to run a mini half-day art camp (yay!). My dream is to eventually run a summer-long kids art “holiday programme” here in Whiti, so this is sort of my soft opening attempt at testing the waters.
3. I’ve changed my hair color about six times.
4. New Zealand Immigration significantly raised the prices of visas on October 1st. Significantly raised them. I’ll post about that.
5. A friend from Cape Cod (well; technically the daughter of an old friend, but she’s definitely a friend now!) just moved to my little NZ town for three months. She was planning to live somewhere on the North Island for the summer, and I may or many not have lured her to Whitianga. It’s been wild having a friend from the Cape suddenly living down the road from me!
Oh yeah, and I took Stewart to the United States to meet everyone!
Here’s a photo of me, Stu, and my parents at their house on Cape Cod in October. He finally, after 4.5 years, got to meet my beloved awesome family and some of my closest friends, and they, after 4.5 years, finally got to meet him. It was so. much. fun.
We flew over together in late September; he stayed for two weeks (we booked the trip to align with his spring vacation from the school where he is the school librarian) and I stayed until early November. To answer a frequently asked question: yes, Stu has been to the States a couple of times, but not since 2012, and he never went anywhere near my neck of the woods (which is New England/the northeast/the upper right-hand corner of the USA).
We saw so many people and did so many things in those two weeks. We got to spend good chunks of time with my parents and my sister and her partner. I introduced him to some of my best Cape Cod friends, some of my closest North Shore friends, some of my nearest and dearest Western Massachusetts friends, and one of my awesome cousins. Some of them had “met” Stu on video chat a few times over the years, but of course it’s not the same as everyone meeting in person. There was an abundance of big, warm, welcoming hugs from everyone.
For the Cape tour, we stopped in at Instant Karma Records in Orleans (for Stu it was pure love at first sight), drove up to Wellfleet and got Box Lunch which we sat and enjoyed at Wellfleet Harbor–one of my favorite spots on the Cape–and made it up to Provincetown with just enough time to briefly explore Commercial Street and enjoy drinks on a deck overlooking the water before I had to whiz us back for an incredible night with my parents and our longtime family friends Paula and Chris, the latter of whom is a musician. Chris and Stu have had a long-distance musical love affair for a while via social media, and when they finally got to jam together on their guitars it was magic. My Dad put it best when he said that it was like listening to a musical conversation flowing seamlessly back and forth. I think we stayed for four hours that night, and then went back a few days later for another round of duets. Chris let Stu borrow a guitar for the duration of our trip, a guitar which actually belonged to my Dad back when he was a Boston University undergrad. Chris had it restored a few years ago as a surprise. It was touching to have Stu give a new life to my Dad’s old college guitar.
Other Cape Cod adventures included a trip to the Edward Gorey House and then stopping at a roadside farm stand where Stu got to wander through hay bales and pumpkins galore. He tried apple cider and some raw cranberries (Cape Cod is famous for its cranberries. Raw cranberries, in contrast to sweetened cranberry juice, are almost painfully tart, something Stu realized almost immediately, though to his credit he didn’t spit them out).
We explored downtown Boston and a bit of Cambridge for an afternoon, where I took him to the Boston Commons and Gardens, the Boston Public Library, The Harvard Bookstore, and an off-the-beaten-path vinyl shop.
I introduced him to the glories of Halloween by taking him to Salem, Massachusetts in the middle of October, when “Witch City” is at the height of Halloween frenzy (Halloween is a fairly recent addition to New Zealand and, compared to what we’re used to in the States, is very small-scale). He played an open mic at Gulu-Gulu Café with my friend Jenne, which was something I’ll never forget. He tried candy corn for the first time, and when we got back to the Cape he got to carve jack-o-lanterns with my family (his was fantastic! Photo below).
I couldn’t wait to take him out to Western Mass and show him the overwhelming beauty of a real New England autumn. Due to a particularly dry summer, the foliage wasn’t *as* stunning as it can be, but for the uninitiated, it was spectacular. We had dinner with friends, explored downtown Northampton, and hiked to the top of Mt. Sugarloaf for an extraordinary view of the Pioneer Valley and Connecticut River. And he played another open mic, this one at Luthier’s Co-Op, a legendary spot.
We packed so many adventures and experiences into just ten days. I took him to a real American diner where he got steak and eggs for breakfast. I introduced him to the glory of sour beers, which unfortunately don’t seem to widely exist here in KiwiLand. I took him to my beloved Trader Joe’s grocery store. We went to Fall Festival at a city park just north of Boston and he got to hold his first snake (no, they don’t have snakes in NZ, and no, I don’t know why they have a snake guy at a fall festival). I am not including a photo of Stu and the snake because I know my Mom will be reading this and she strongly dislikes snakes (you’re welcome, Mom) but I’m happy to send it to anyone who isn’t my Mom and wants to see it.
And then he flew back for the start of the last school term and I stayed an additional 3.5 weeks to spend more time with everyone. And now I’m back in New Zealand and it’s somehow summer but also December.
We had such an incredible trip. Thank you so much to all of you who helped make Stu’s time in the States unforgettable. We can’t wait to see you all again!
And to everyone else, thanks for reading. It feels good to be writing for you again. I’ve missed you guys!
Love,
Hilary ❤️
PS: As always, you can follow my New Zealand Chronicles Instagram account here, where I regularly post beautiful photos (like these ones), which will hopefully help all of you back home get through the winter.