I’m home. Or, rather, I’m back in the good ol’ US of A. I came to consider and accept Christchurch just as much my home as Maine, where I grew up. Sadly, though, I had to leave that wonderful city. I’ll spare you the excessive emotion, and myself the indignity of fumbling with my vocabulary in an attempt to describe those feelings that I have not the power to express in words. Suffice to say, I am sad to have left New Zealand – everything there seems so much simpler, so much easier, and, of course, so much prettier. The transportation system is simply brilliant, the cities are pleasant and uncrowded, the towns are vibrant, and, perhaps most importantly, the New Zealand Department of Conservation puts to shame the combined efforts and resources of the US Department of Agriculture, Fish and Wildlife Service, and National Park Service. Oh, yeah – driving on the left side of the road feels much more natural for some reason.
That’s not to say I’m unhappy to be home. There were many things I missed about the US: sweet cereal, colonial architecture and history (New England), snow, my friends and family, etc., but I’ll definitely miss New Zealand.
The departure sort of came out of a back alley and assaulted me. I got back from the North Island (see the previous post) and sat my remaining two exams, figuring I had plenty of time to pack, etc. On Saturday, 13 November, I neverthless found myself in a bit of a tizzy trying to clean up and fit my bedroom into a couple of suitcases and a small backpack. I had said most of my goodbyes to all the Kiwis I had befriended and I spent the afternoon at the house of my friend Cat, trying to use up miscellaneous baking ingredients that I had bought and never used due to my flat’s lack of a useful oven. I made a batch of snickerdoodles and ended up leaving them with her and her family with instructions to pass them on to some other friends. Whether they got there I cannot be sure, as Cat has an insatiable sweet tooth, but it’s the thought that counts, right?
Anyway, I got packed and rushed to the bus stop, where I said goodbye to my flatmates and headed for the airport. There began my 29 blissful, sleepless hours of travel time. On the flight across the Pacific I was once again lucky enough to have the person in the middle seat not show up, so I got my window, a quiet Australian got the aisle, and we had some extra space. I was not so luck on the flight across the States. I was in the middle, having generously given my window seat to a woman who proceeded to sleep through the entire trip. There was no food (on a five-hour flight) and the entertainment was mediocre. Plus I was excited to get home, and the closer I got, the slower time crawled.
I got to Boston eventually, where my dad and my brother were waiting for me with smiles and a car. We hit Dunkin Donuts on the way out (it was 7:00 am) to refresh my taste for absurdly sugary things, and headed home through New England fall (a bit of a departure from the summer from which I had just come). It was pleasant, and it was nice to come home.
Now, as this is a photo blog, I figured I ought to include some photos. I thought about doing a “Best of New Zealand” retrospective, but you would’ve seen most of the pictures before if you’ve been following this at all. So I decided instead to post pictures from the two places I spend most of my time: Maine, where I grew up, and Ohio, where I go to school. They are pictures that have been taken over the past two years for various purposes. Some are in colour, some in black and white, and all represent bits and pieces of my life. So welcome to my world, enjoy, and thanks for reading!
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