In Auckland the noise of traffic and peoples attitudes is an affront to peace of mind and quiet surroundings. I've been working washing dishes, my poor hands are sad, slogging away for pennies that might help my cause, haha living the dream certainly costs a lot!
I manage to procrastinate from study that beckons, tidying up a large assignment based on strategies in second language teaching, although the practice of writing academic and linguistic findings and criticizing and evaluating aspects of teaching languages sounds interesting, it can be hard work concentrating after a day in a cafe running after lunch orders and elbow deep in near boiling muck.
My mind wanders to the lovely weekend I shared with mum, sister and brother in-law. We traveled north to our paradise, Tauranga Bay. We are the luckiest of all to have a teeny bach, on the water nearly, our old land and holiday spot solid under feet, feelings of joy mixed with fresh autumn sunshine is unbeatable.
We lay to rest our old friend Fitz, long has he been a part of the family, and forever he will watch over our beach from high on the hilltop, always remembered and cherished in our hearts.
Coming back on Sunday we visit the old farm, the giant Kauri trees, and catchup with the old generations, reminds me to do this religiously in years to come. Those connections are worth more than anything to our history, the lines of communication which we can't let dry up. The stories of settlers, seeming distant yet a part of us, our ancestor Rahiri and his son Uanuku-kuare from Taumarere, our land in the far north, our roots to Aotearoa.
