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Giving Thanks for Things Growing in New Zealand

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This evening I’m camped next to a Horse Chestnut tree, a being I’m not sure I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting before. Very solid vibes.

The Horse Chestnut is the little round fellow to the right of my camper

New Zealand knows how to do trees, no doubt about that! It’s easy to see why people might see trees as objects of worship. I’ve fallen for any number of the lovelies and made more than a few u-turns to capture photos.

Tree with friends

 

The vegetation here is remarkably diverse, from cactus to moss to eucalyptus, from temperate rainforests to tiny alpine daisies to towering tree ferns, one of which — the Silver Fern — is the national symbol that graces their rugby uniforms and their airplanes. The Silver Fern gives off a majestic but humble vibe, if you can imagine. Strong and formidable, yet with growing centers that are vulnerable and gentle. Much the way I imagine the person of Jesus to have been. 

 

Silver Fern Fiddleheads

I think my favorite plant is the Red Tussock grass, and its proper name is almost as cute as it is: Chionochloa rubra. I can’t decide if these little guys belong more to the Star Trek genre or to Dr. Seuss, but I love how they just march up hillsides and take over entire landscapes. They wave enthusiastically in the wind, and the sun brings out the red in them. They are native to New Zealand and the country has created a preserve for them on the South Island — one of the few places I did not see sheep or cows!

 

One of the more ubiquitous plants is flax, which you see along the roadsides and also growing as an ornamental in many gardens. It’s not at all like what we call flax in the northern hemisphere, the plant that produces seeds for our backyard finches. The Maori traditionally used fibers from the sword-like leaves of the flax plant to make everything from coats and sandals to river rafts and eel traps. Our Maori tour guide at New Zealand’s national Te Papa museum spoke about working with flax the way African American elders in the southern U.S. speak about braiding sweetgrass. It’s as if the flax fibers are woven into their very beings.

Since I’m in New Zealand, there will be no Thanksgiving for me this year. However, I am in a constant state of thankfulness as I “live and move and have my being” among the green beings of this glorious landscape. Have yourself a blessed Thanksgiving stateside!

“Moving Along” in New Zealand

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I’m one of those travelers who likes to move along. As much as I’m a proponent of slowing down, reflecting, and “living in the present moment,” when I’m on the road, I always want to see as much as I can. I want to know what comes next. I’ve had to adjust my expectations here in New Zealand because everything takes twice as long as I think it’s going to. I can’t drive the speed limit for the life of me (literally), partly because of the death-defying narrow, windy roads next to precipitous drop-offs, and partly because I am always looking at the scenery or pulling over to take a photo or look at at a map. 

When I take a “one hour” hike, it always takes me two. At least. There’s an interesting bird call I have to investigate or a bumblebee in a flower I have to watch or a mysterious rustling in the bushes I have to wait out. There are rock cairns to be built, side paths to be followed, bark and leaves to sniff — something around here smells intoxicating and I haven’t discovered what it is yet.

So while I’m “moving along” in spirit, in practice I’m not covering as much ground as I’d imagined. Which is fine, except I was starting to feel rushed. So rather than reduce my aspirations, I’ve asked the camper van company for a few extra days, because life is short and what if I don’t get to come back? My new mantra is “Why not?”

Tonight I decided to stay in a little villa on the west coast of the South Island; after nine days of sleeping in the van and a day of driving in torrential rains, I thought it was time for some heat and a comfy bed. Maybe even a bath. And a blog — because WiFi!

Most of the places I’ve visited have quickly become “my favorite place so far.” Here are a few highlights from several of my evolving favorite places:

My first night after staying with my cousin in Auckland, I stayed at a camp in Rotorua, a town known for its geothermal activity and strong Maori presence. I visited a Maori village and experienced a high-energy dance and musical performance and walked through a natural geothermal reserve. That night I soaked in hot mineral springs for way longer than the recommended twenty minutes.

Interesting mix of Christian and Maori traditions at St. Faith’s Church in Ohinemutu in Rotorua. “It was easy for us to accept Jesus,” one Maori woman told me. “He was all about peace and kindness, like our God.” The carving was done by local Maori and is inset with paua shell.

 

 

My new friend on the left is exhibiting the Maori warrior stance. I think we’ve all had a bit too much excitement.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pukeko – a very sociable swamphen that’s common around these parts

Maori wharenui, a tribal communal house where they hold meetings, funerals, weddings, and celebrations. In the Whakarewarewa village.

Thermal pool

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maori sentinel watches over boiling lake

Black swans on Lake Rotorua – my first morning on the road

 

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