Erinn Goes Abroad

“I have always loved the freshness of arriving and the relief of leaving…” -Gerald Locklin

The start of 2012 seems like the ideal time to write about the conclusion of a wondrous year abroad. I’m back in Atlanta, in the state of Georgia in the USA. Being back felt a bit strange at first but it’s funny how quickly the dust settles and one falls into a semblance of normalcy again. I find that I still love this city. I like the view of the skyline when I’m driving south on I-85 and the buildings boldly jagging into clouds. I like the familiarity of the street names and all the friendships rekindled as if no time passed at all. I don’t feel like a stranger here… well, mostly. When I walked up to my old university today I felt like I had awoken from a dream that seemed so real it could have happened. Visceral but foreign. Like Deja vu… or it’s distant cousin.

I’ve also been surprised by several things. I was warned that I would be and the discomfort I might feel would be called Reverse Culture Shock. For one, I had forgotten about the behavior around consumption in the USA. It seemed particularly prevalent during the holiday season. I’m noticing how much people buy and how little they recycle. I’m reminded about one of America’s strongest virtues, convenience, and I’m not sure if I value it the same way I once did. I also notice how vividly Christian values permeate American society. I intend no criticism with these observations but they are certainly food for thought.

Now that it’s been about a month since I’ve left New Zealand, I’m beginning to look ahead towards my next steps. I have abstract ideas about what I want to do, but now it’s all a matter of execution. At the moment, I’m relishing in the chaos that is currently inhabiting my mind. According to the Georgia State University people I spoke with today, I’m set to graduate in May. That’s something to look forward to!

I first fell in love with New Zealand 3 years ago….

…On a 10 day university-led trip to Tauranga in the Bay of Plenty. New Zealand had an effortless charm that reeled me in immediately. I was captivated. But what was better than the dense ferns on the hillside or the sea that stretched for leagues was the people. I stayed with a host family that welcomed me as one of their own within clock ticks of our meeting.

I was reminded of this when I visited them last weekend. We tramped up Mount Maunganui, lolled on the lawn to watch the Guy Fawke’s firework show and chatted endlessly. The weekend went as quickly as it came, and what is left of it is the reminder of what made me long to return here, a place that I shall always adore. 

I can only say my appreciation has shifted from that of a tourist to a resident and the distinction is important. Much like the difference between infatuation and love, I’ve endured both joy and sadness here. As a visitor, one entertains mostly fantasies and easily ignores the ugly realities that inhabit every place. By and by, I’m happy to know New Zealand in a multidimensional way, for its beauty and its wart, because that understanding is built upon truth and not presumptions. 

Country Life

Visiting Martinborough evokes streams of consciousness like nothing else:

• Brilliant greens. All shades imaginable.
• “fresh” as a smell. Pure. 
• That proverbial peace and quiet that Ralph Waldo Emerson idealized. 
• The click-whistle-squawk of a tui. The song once sounded alien to my ears but now I know I’ll long for its sweetness when I leave.
• The steady hum of creek.
• Color! Pops of it. The loveliest daisies I’ve ever seen. Midnight blue centers. 

Generally I’d call myself a “city girl” but I question that notion every time I voyage past the Rimutaka mountains into the Wairarapa region of New Zealand. The pleasantness of the pristine lands is close to addictive. Plus, it makes my mind wander. I like the idea of having a vegetable garden and a fruit orchard. Perhaps even some ornamental flowers! I could pull on some gum boots and tend to the sheep… or whatever other critters required “tending”.  With the beach a short drive away, a vineyard a brisk stroll down the lane and the town of Martinborough at one’s finger tips… what’s not to like?