a week in Wanaka

Five days and four nights

of peaceful, picturesque, restful holiday

in Wanaka

at Louly's parents bach

though I'm sure they call it a crib.

Who says the South Island isn't culturally diverse??

Do you think pronouncing Bach as in the composer

rather than bach as in batch would make holiday homes sound posher?

It's like calling Mangere Bridge, Pont du Mongere.

Some people do that, eh Ni?

So Louly's little bach was the perfect place.

Comfortable, easy, relaxing.

Each morning the sun shone.

Each afternoon the sun shone.

Each evening the sun shone.

Y'know until it went down.

Each day I'd go walking,

find a posse on the edge of Lake Wanaka.

I'd wiggle down on the pebbly shore

between fallen trees

until I was out of any wind,

lie back and

watch the clouds scud across the sky

watch the shadows roam across the mountains

then watch leaves spiral down from the trees.

More than once I got a leaf in the face

and those suckers are falling with some velocity.

One afternoon I decided it was time to go see the next bay over.

I eased myself into the ute,

because moving with any great speed was out of the question,

and drove out towards Mt Aspiring.

I got to Glendu Bay

and was glad that I didn't over excited

as I had on my first day in Wanaka

looking at all the walks around the Lake,

and walked around to the bay.

I would still be there happily exhausted.

I do not do exercise at altitude.

I just love the ranges and mountains of Central Otago.

 I love the lakes and austere nature,

the plainness of it's beauty.

It's breathe deep confrontational style.

I wouldn't want to live in Wanaka,

for a bunch of reasons

but mostly that I would be afraid

I would become immune to it's beauty.

While I sat admiring the scenery,

locals would walk past

chatting on their cellphones as they walked their dogs.

Ordinary life was out of place.

I eavesdropped without any choice

on people who I assumed were tourists

based on their accents and foreign clothes

energetically marching along the paths,

talking in their loud voices about

women they knew,

these were older couples talking,

ok the men were talking

the women were silent,

which supports my argument that men are the more gossippier sex.

They nattered on about how the women were strange,

which I took to mean they were different to them

which I took to mean they didn't know these women well

cause otherwise they wouldn't be strange.

I ended my week feeling relaxed and good.

My weekend was less so

but that's tomorrows story.