I have been absolutely terrible about writing since I’ve been in Wellington, over two weeks now. I had all these photos to download, and then I never had time to write picture posts, and then I was going out too much with too many friends, and the days passed and passed and Istill haven’t put up the South Island pictures (but I will) and now all of a sudden it’s time to go to the airport and Wellington is over again.
It’s been so good to be here. I fell right back into it: Fidel’s, Satay Kingdom, Espressoholic, Lambton Quay, the waterfront, Cuba Mall, Newtown, Mt. Vic, Island Bay, everything, everyone, as if I’d never left. I got to stay over at A’s for a couple of days in my old room and we sat around watching awful TV and eating pasta on the couches and talking talking talking. Last Saturday night I had to text everyone that I would be late to the good old Southern Cross because of course the bus was late, just like it always is and that was normal and natural, completely fine. I’ve been staying with my dear friend Alice in her awesome flat with her awesome flatmates–I’ve actually been sleeping in her bed and every night we would whisper and giggle and text boys and be generally ridiculous; we had an ANZAC Day dinner and ate Tim Tams and lay around the lounge in our pajamas and never ran out of things to say. Last weekend I went to a Sunday lunch with all my Italian friends that lasted about seven hours and almost killed me with it’s deliciousness; after the first course of homemade pasta with wild hare sauce (yes) everyone sat around moaning about how full they were and how they couldn’t eat anymore and I thought, great, I’m not the only one who thought that was a lot of food, and then someone said, in Italian, “I think we should wait at least a half an hour before the next course!” My friends Shirley and Steve got married on Saturday and Danica and Sara and Helen and Jordan and I all went up to Otaki and Danica and I ended up wearing the same color dress and we both thought the color looked really good on each other. Last night we made a big veggie stir fry and watched Empire Strikes Back and talked about sex and ate chocolate truffles and it seemed really weird that earlier I had booked a hostel in Auckland, that I’d been emailing Samoa with my credit card details, that I have only, only only only, three more weeks in New Zealand. Because why am I leaving, again?
And then yesterday, too, I talked to Seattle and to California and we all discussed times and places and vacant rooms in the Blue House and transportation options and I started thinking about the ABL party and spending some time in the Bay Area and then about Calin’s 4th of July party and about Ballard in general and about Green Lake and pho in the U District and all the babies I haven’t met and about Monday night dance class and book club and all those things that made my life there, that are still there if I want them, I think. And how can I want everything, how was I able to leave there and come here and how can I leave here and go there? And where will I be this time next year? Will I be thinking fondly of my year and a half in New Zealand as I get on the bus to go to work or will I be calculating the time difference so I can call my mom in America? I’m always going to miss people, wherever I go in the world.
Cross your fingers, I have been telling people this whole week, that this is only a holiday, that I will be back, that I will leave home again to come home to you.