No Place Like Home

Over the years, I’ve been given and also created the opportunity to see many beautiful places. This evening, Marco and I walked up the nearest hill Monte Canto. At nine in the evening with the fresh breeze nipping at our ears, we headed out the house. I was on a mission to walk off my dinner and so decided that I wanted to walk or should I say, struggle up Monte Canto. At the top of the path is a church and a huge poster of the Pope. Put it this way, we weren’t interested in going to church tonight, but the steep stone path leads to a terrific point where the sight of local towns and countryside can be appreciated. From there, we could see the buildings illuminated by the yellow of the street lamps, also rows and patterns of small lantern lights set in the graveyards, the lights from scooters racing down the road, every so often the shout of merry people down in the town. It was so good to feel so far away from it.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to ‘get away’. Some people think of a getaway as a holiday to another country, the sea and sandy beaches. For me, there was one place I could get away.

I get driven crazy living in a city. Only this evening I said to Marco that I think my mind has built a psychological barrier against living in a city, only yesterday when I was in Bergamo city, the traffic, the people and generally just the buzz of life in the city makes my head spin. I suffered with this also in Auckland, however nice the city can be, it’s just not for me.

When I lived in Auckland, my Thursday evenings would consist of me packing up my dirty washing, eating whatever was in the fridge that would go off and finding some clean clothes, for when Friday evening came after finishing work at school, I was in the car. Stuck in traffic usually! Stuck on Auckland’s equivalent of spaghetti junction waiting half an hour to get on the motorway. The traffic and the weeks stress only made what was to come even better.

Most Friday nights I would arrive to my parents with dinner in the oven and a glass of wine already poured. My parents and I would spend the evening talking and complaining about our week, while slowly finishing the first bottle of wine. It was so nice to be home, but it was also nice not to hear the traffic of the main road outside my window.

At night, when at my parents, the darkness is so apparent. With no street lights, your eyes divert to the array of stars spread above. The brightness of the Milky Way is so stunning, I remember many nights coming home and sitting in the car just gazing up at the sky. On occasions I saw shooting stars and satellites making their way across the darkness.

But, I think the best thing and the thing I miss the most was the view in the day time. Rain or shine, I was always so happy to sit and watch life pass by. With the Tui’s in the bush calling out their beautiful songs and the drunken pigeons sailing through the air above, the green of trees clashing with the brightness of the sky. I could sit all day in that garden.



When I was leaving New Zealand, I said to my Dad “You better not sell this house before I come back!” Once back in England, I joked but with a certain amount of seriousness I reiterated what I said, but adding that they better not sell the house before I get married in the garden! Strange ideas, but I miss looking out on that view at the weekends. I miss being able to go there for my down time (and the bottles of wine).