As I was on my way to Love and Core, a friendly face out walking her dog smiled and asked if I was off to do some yoga. I gave her a big beam back. And nodded a namaste. Even though I had no idea who she was or how she knew I was going to a yoga class. But that’s just how it is in Martinborough. A ton of friendly faces, nods and smiles, in this town of no more than 1700 people. A town that’s on the brink of spring and is looking particularly beautiful right now.
It’s nearing the end of August and winter is almost over in the southern hemisphere. I suppose it would be the equivalent of late February if we were up above the equator, so perhaps not totally out of the winter woods yet. But glimpses of promise and signs of regeneration are everywhere. There are still a few late pruners working away in the vineyards although they’re all but done now. The myriad fruit trees are beginning to bud and blossom and the magnolias are showing off a glorious deep plum colour that I’ve never seen in a magnolia before. The fields and paddocks are chock-a-block with lambs being lamb-like; gambolling and frolicking, whilst others lie tipped over full of milk, legs stretched out, basking in the sun. And new woolly calves stick close to their mothers for as long as they are able. There’s even a pile of piglets in the pigpen at the bottom end of the vineyard and the wild and rocky coastline along the Cape Palliser stretch is full of huge and exhausted-looking seal mums nursing their yelping, hungry pups.
I’ve got less than a week left here in Martinborough and aim to make the most of these early spring days. And happily, the weather forecast looks pretty good. Ed says that this has been the third mildest winter on New Zealand record and that we’re going to get up to the giddy heights of 18 degrees with clear blue skies in the days ahead. Which means a Saturday trip to the bird sanctuary and a sunny hill walk at Pukaha is on the cards. Jimmy Dee, Ed and I are also going to indulge in some fine wine and dining at their favourite boutique vineyards as part of my last weekend hurrah. And we’ve planned an evening outing to the local cinema to see Tenet, the first major film release since lockdown began. It’s all a bit exciting. And emotional, of course.
Level 3 Lockdown in Auckland has been extended until Sunday night at which time the whole country will continue on in Level 2. Until the government are sure that community transmissions are back under control. At the moment they fluctuate somewhere around the five new cases a day mark which is really quite low comparatively speaking, but not low enough by New Zealand standards. And those opportunities for travel to Australia, Indonesia and the Pacific Islands, still sit somewhere out there on a very hazy and distant horizon. So last week, I took a deep breath and booked that flight to Athens. I’m (so nearly) absolutely sure that it’s the right time for me to move on, but I’ve still got such mixed feelings about it all. I understand now that it’s just the way of these things.
Next Wednesday, on the 2nd September, Jimmy Dee is going to drive me the two hours from here to Wellington airport. From there I’ll fly up to Auckland. In Auckland, I’ll have five hours of airport-mooching-in-a-mask-but-not-touching-anything before departing at 6:15pm on an international flight bound for Brisbane, Australia. I’m anticipating that leaving the sanctuary of New Zealand is going to be quite a big deal. The stopover in Brisbane won’t involve changing aircrafts but in Doha I have a three-hour layover before boarding a connecting flight to Athens. The journey from Auckland to Athens (so not including the Wellington leg) will take almost 28 hours. I’m not really complaining. But I am exhausted just thinking about it.
I’m going to spend two nights in Athens, most likely sleeping (and possibly waiting for a test result if I happen to be chosen), before flying to Crete. All being well, Greece will let me in and then let me stay for up to three months. Which I suppose I might do. Or might not. Who knows anymore? But I have been in touch with a dive shop in Elounda. And I can’t pretend otherwise, my fingers are crossed.
Saying goodbye, E noho ra, to New Zealand is not going to be easy. On the day that I leave, I’ll have been here, and so well looked after, for six months and one day. Having planned on three weeks. Saying goodbye to New Zealand means saying goodbye to the Chocs. My dear lock-down family who mean just about the world to me. It means saying goodbye to my Bottle Lake Forest faraway friends who I’m going to continue to hold in heart and mind, no matter the distance. And of course, it means saying goodbye to dear Jimmy Dee and to super sweet, Ed. And to Alfred, their dog. Who seems to have adopted me and keeps watch over me now, as I write. Weirdly, it also feels like I’m saying goodbye to Australia again. And everyone there. Even though I did that already. And to Indonesia too. Oh me. I guess, in a way, it feels like I’m saying goodbye to my Taking Leave adventure...
Ugh. I’m being dramatic. I’ll see you in Greece.
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