Start the Journey

Start the Journey

The rest will follow

I was sitting in the auditorium of the Tauranga parish I think of as the "rock band church," this morning, when the vicar said something that hit home: "Start the journey...and as you're going, you will be shocked at the coincidences that come up." Doesn't that sound like life? Ever take a journey, move to a new town or visit a new place and feel like you're supposed to be there? That's how New Zealand has been for me since we arrived 3 months ago.

Several weeks after arriving in the Bay of Plenty, I started running into people I knew – at the grocery store, at concerts, while running the Mount. Yes, it's a small town (population, 120,000 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tauranga ), part of which explains how I keep bumping up against the same crowd time and again. One of my friends in Spokane has started dating a Kiwi (living in California) who grew up in this area. His sister still lives in Tauranga. Turns out, the sister attends dance class with my flatmate, Amy.

I met Amy after calling a local nonprofit to ask about a new migrant support program. The admin assistant said, "You should talk to our CEO. She's American, too" Amy and I met for coffee, where she learned I was looking for a new place to live. I learned she was seeking a flatmate. You can't orchestrate this stuff. Start the journey and be shocked by the coincidences as they arise.

Comments

Remove Before Flight

Remove Before Flight “The elevator’s trim, rudder’s trim, mixture’s rich, flaps are at ten degrees…” Pete, the PAHT-nah (partner), is talking through a pre-flight checklist as we wait to taxi from the Tauranga airport. In the nearly 12 months we’ve known each other, Pete’s talked about taking me flying. Now, with my departure from New Zealand less than ten days away, the weather, schedules, and aircraft maintenance have obliged so Pete can fulfill his promise. The sky is overcast, but the cloud ceiling will allow us to fly at 2,500 feet; it’s the weekend, so we’re not competing with flight school students for air time; and there’s a new-ish plane (called FCO, or Foxtrot Charlie Oscar) Pete has enough confidence in to haul what he calls “precious cargo,” which is me. Pete checks the Cessna 152 single-engine propeller aircraft as I watch. He walks the plane’s perimeter, inspecting flaps, wheels, the rudder… He gives me a couple wooden door-stopper-looking blocks (called chocks). “Remo

Murder House

Murder House (MUH-dah House) The deed is done “I don’t wanna go to the dentist. It’s gonna hurt,” says Fiona. I can hardly deny my eight-year-old the truth, but I can tiptoe around it. “They’re going to rub medicine on your gums to numb them,” I tell her. “And they can put your tooth to sleep with a needle.” Fiona gasps, “I don’t want a needle! No!” Oops. I shouldn’t have used the “n” word. Fiona starts her high-pitched screeching if she thinks a needle exists in the next room. When I got the kids immunized in preparation for dragging them round-the-world, Fiona cried as the nurse swabbed her upper arm with iodine. You would’ve thought someone was whacking off her limb with a rusty saw, yet the needle lay feet from Fiona’s body. New Zealand is not the place for dental work for a squeamish, sobbing little girl. I learned after bringing Fiona to a dental clinic during the Christmas school vacation (otherwise known as summer holidays) that sch

The Affair

The Affair Ohope Beach, NZ I had an affair last week. I’m not ashamed to tell you, either. It was sweet and sad. It made me laugh, cry, sigh and dance in my chair to James Brown and Rupert Holmes. My Kiwi PAHT-nah, Pete, even facilitated the tryst, though neither of us knew what to expect beforehand. Pete watched the kids while I was gone for five nights. Five whole nights. No kids. No TV. No partner. I enjoyed a dalliance with my late husband, Sean (though I should write instead, ‘dead husband,’ because Sean hated being late). It happened in a wood-paneled house across the street from the ocean, in Ohope Beach, New Zealand. I attended a writer’s retreat to work on the memoir. I revised six sections totaling more than 40,000 words. In the course of revising- subtracting old text and adding entries from letters Sean had written me when we first started dating, plus journal entries he wrote around the time Fiona was born - I fell in love again. With Sean’s openn

Adventure Mom

Search This Blog