If it's Tuesday, it must be Belgium.

Ken and Peg invited me for a lovely picnic at Kaitoke Regional Park.

Church built in 1896.

Ken and Peg in their front yard in Tawa.

Peg and me.

Guinea hens

No, I am not in Belgium. Nor am I going to Belgium. "If it's Tuesday, it must be Belgium" is one of the many things I learned from my new friends Peg and Ken these past two days. It's the title of an old movie, and from what I understand, it's about people travelling through Europe who have missed the whole point of travelling by rushing through on a tightly orchestrated tour and schedule. Peg and Ken have done a lot of travelling and living overseas over the years, and they said what lingers in the memory, when all else is brushed away with the fine-toothed comb of time, is the people and the stories. I am beginning to see that this is true for me as well.

I have been doing a little reflecting myself, since my time in New Zealand is coming to an end after five months. My favorite landscapes are still pretty freshly seared in my brain, but already, my mind drifts to conversations and stories that are bits of luminescent but often tangled and sticky webs that makes up life. Lots of happy, tender, quirky stories that give me delight, and some sadder ones that make me wish I have the supernatural power to meddle in other people's business...in a constructive but potentially disasterous fashion...

I think about unicycles, good chocolate, an American Thanksgiving BBQ in Christchurch, quality meat from a local butcher that shrinks less than cheap meat in France, trail running, a cyclist from Chico, the Taiwanese girl I met again in Te Anau, ginger beer and the people who love it, the now familiar German accent, Volkswagons, making and sharing guacomole in a hostel kitchen, Romulo who gave me his favorite latin songs, a cat that doesn't like water, talking on the beach on a starry night in Bay of Islands, a dawn rooster across the river, sharing Montheith's Summer Ale and Radler, wet tents, the awful smell of burning coal...

Kiwis who have asked if I am "Red Indian" (there have been two), if I voted for Bush (you Americans are liars, I've yet to meet an American who voted for him)... So many people. So many stories. Lots of people have asked why I am spending five months in such a small country. I usually say it's because I plan to do a lot of tramping and that takes a lot of time. But really it takes a lot of time to meet people and know how they see their country through what they tell you and what they show you. I wanted to know what it is like to be a New Zealander today: the politics, music, cheese, history, culture, sports (a D on this one), recreation (see picnic, above), sense of identity........
I am happy to report that I achieved varying degrees of success on all topics (including tasty cheese, marmite, pavlova, and 0.32407% milkfat), and can now have an intelligible conversation with any kiwi [plus or minus two "huh"?], AND maybe even teach him/her a thing or two... For instance, did you kiwis know that there are now affordable baches made from old shipping containers that can be transported to the coastal property of your choice for summer barbies on the beach under pohutakawas???

...It's not Tuesday yet, and it surely won't be Belgium!