I just realized how far away I am. I’m watching the sun slowly set over the dark hills of Wellington and it only just struck me. On the other side of those hills is more hills, then ocean—vast, wide, deep, blue, unyielding ocean—for hundreds of miles. On the other side of the hill I occupy is the charming suburb of Hataitai, then the airport, a bay, more hills, and more ocean.
It’s funny. It was pointed out to me that New Zealand is often not included in “art” maps or the globes in movies. It’s true. This tiny country is so easily forgotten. It’s little more than a small island, with far fewer than five million people. It was one of the last inhabitable land masses to be occupied by humans… and here I am, hundreds of years later, staring at a glimmer of the wilds of what this place once was. But perhaps it still is. Wild, I mean. What a good word for it… New Zealand is unspoiled by population and unchecked growth. The only traces of the giants of industry are the cleared meadows zig zagging the south where the lonely lumberjack roams.
Perhaps it’s a blessing New Zealand is so far away. Perhaps it’s a blessing this land is oft forgotten. I certainly feel blessed to be a part of it—if only for one glimmering moment in this ancient land’s long history.