Oyster Cove Restaurant, Bluff, NZ
Don, for our reader’s sake and for our sake, we have agreed to interview each other in this post, keeping our answers to a thoughtful minimum. Here’s my first question for you: We’ve just left the Catlins after another spree of sunny days and cool nights. What three images will you take away with you?
Miles of crescent beaches, windswept and empty. Rolling green pastures that sweep up to the sky in one direction and fall into the ocean in the other direction. Gnarled, dense rain forests that grow down the hills to the edge of the beach.
Lis, you are the visual one, taking in everything around you. Whether we were walking on the beach or driving in Gertie among the fields, my question has always been, what are you thinking? What do you take away with you from this place?
Melissa: Images are where I start, and I asked you because I love the way you describe things. The only one I would add are all the mossy waterfalls tumbling water in hidden rock canyons. The one we walked to yesterday – where someone had made a path by laying down sections of fern tree trunks – was especially sweet.
It’s harder to say what I take away from the Catlins. It’d be something about where I feel the most happy between civilization and nature. Right now, I look forward to a warm bath, but I don’t want to give up our morning walks on deserted beaches.
What most surprised you about the Catlins, Don?
Don: Two things that go in the category of sheer, dumb luck: the beautiful weather and how alone we were virtually all the time. We had no rain the entire trip. The only people we interacted with were the ones camping with us. I’ve never been anywhere in the world with so much unspoiled, empty, natural spaces. Do you realize we have driven over 1,000 kilometers without seeing a single billboard? We walked on dozens of beaches and half a dozen lakes and did not see a single mansion or private property sign. I love the Kiwis for sharing this rich beauty with everyone. One last thing: some of the places we walked to were over privately owned pastures, but they were still open to the public.
So, Lis, you said you are looking forward to a warm shower. I’m with you on that one, although we’ve had warm showers, just not in particularly luxurious bathrooms. Is there anything (two things?) you liked about the camper van?
Melissa: First of all, Don, I said warm “bath.” But I could respond to your “plenty of hot showers” comment. For one thing, last night, my shower had a 5-minute timer. Not only did the one less minute throw me off, I had also had no place to put my soap or shampoo or razor inside the stall. To re-up the shower, I had to lean out of it, insert another NZ dollar and explain to the women standing there waiting that I would be out “in a minute.” Not exactly relaxing, since the next two minutes found me balancing on one flip-flop while I pulled on one leg of my pants, and then the other.
Gertie, though, now there’s a lovefest. I love our morning ritual. You, usually, get up and plug in the hot water and get our French press ready. If we have Internet, it’s fun to make toast on the floor while I prop my legs’ on the drivers’ seat and read the headlines. You also have kindly given me that seat, which also has the only ledge to set a coffee cup on. To clarify for our readers, after the second night, we have not unmade our bed in order to get out the actual table in the campervan.
What about you? What do you like about Gertie?
Don: Our first 24 hours in the camper van was like the time we took a ballroom dancing lesson together. We lasted about five minutes before the instructor gently separated us and suggested we might make better progress if we practiced with a more experienced dancer. Having said that, after the first few days, I love that we have learned the camper van shuffle. We have a great routine in a tiny space. I always knew we were compatible, but I didn’t know we could be so compatible in such a small space. In fact, one huge take away for me after the last several days is how much I like being alone with you. Today, for example, we did the breakfast fox trot, cleaned the dishes and took a fantastically beautiful six-mile walk on the beach before 11:15 am. Could we do this for the rest of our lives, like you suggested?
Melissa: Absolutely. We can make time for each other so long as we know that time together is just that. It doesn’t have to be “special” or even cost anything. I will breakfast and walk with you anywhere, urban or pastoral. Simpler is better. Right now, I’m looking forward to whatever sauté scramble we’re going to cook up for dinner. It will pair well with the cheap wine we have left in the fridge.
Okay, to wrap this thing up, here’s a simple association game for you. Just write down whatever comes first to mind.
Sheep – Dingleberries
Penguins – Josh
Seals – Playful
New Zealand Fish – Best Dinner We Had
Oysters at Bluff, New Zealand – Nine bucks an oyster and a split beer. Give me a brew pub anytime.
Guy in Bathrobe at Last Trailer Site – Gutsy call.
I don’t even want to know what comments this word association might solicit or, worse, what it means. Let’s blow this tourist trap oyster bar at the edge of the world and seek comfort in Lady G and the Amble on Inn trailer park!
