It’s another rainy evening in the South Island. We really haven’t had many, but they seem to come at opportune times for us – usually after a big activity, and all we want to do is nap or relax our muscles. We’re warm and dry in the campervan while the tent campers outside are huddling and trying to figure out how to keep the mini rivers of rainwater from flowing into their tents. Some are hiding in their cars. Up in Abel Tasman Park, our next door tent camping neighbors said they had a couple of inches of rain in their tent overnight. Yuck.
This vehicle has become home. So what does that mean? In the evenings when we return to Squeak, we head to our normal positions. Lee moves pictures from the camera to the laptop and begins the process of creating panoramas from the set he captured that day. I clean up and start dinner. Lee then finds some kind of entertainment for me – a couple of nights ago it was music – Motown oldies, tonight he read me a few chapters of a Genghis Khan biography while I tended to our butter chicken and risotto rice dinner and tomorrow’s lunch. I wash the dishes and he stands under the vent (it’s the only place he doesn’t need to duck) and happily dries and then takes the garbage bag out. It’s all very much like home – except for the head room.
Some nights before bedtime, we watch an episode of the Sopranos. Last night Adrianna got whacked, and tonight, I think, is season 5’s finale. Is it the one where the Feds show up at NY Johnny’s house and send Tony walking home? We’ll see. Without other television entertainment, I find myself wondering the next day about subtleties in the last episode, or trying to picture the armies that Genghis might have had.
Even in a traveling lifestyle that is almost by definition, non-routine, we are finding a little bit of comfort in the daily minor routines.
