Waikanae

I’m writing this sitting on a comfy sofa in Rose’s beach house on the deserted Tasman sea coast. We’re in Waikanae, 15 minutes from Wellington’s seaside playground: Paraparaumu. It’s funny how the human brain works. Folks in New Zealand are preparing for winter and even on a sunny day with the temperature rising above 25 degrees Celsius, the beaches are empty and beach houses all but abandoned for the season. Works for me, I don’t mind having the place to myself. Plus, the delicious cafés are empty.

Ed and I spent our day tanning, reading, testing the water and taking pictures. We cooked a pleasant supper before returning to the beach for more sun. The gentle breeze gradually brought in more clouds and we ended our day admiring a sunset bringing darkness over the coast and Kapiti island. Once back at the bach (that’s what Kiwis call their summer homes), a really loud siren disturbed the otherwise quiet night. Ed and I had no idea whether we should run to the closest bomb shelter or laugh the whole thing off. The siren was reminiscent of the alarm that came too late at Pearl Harbour. I was wearing my brown pants so I was OK but yikes. We ran outside on the street only to be greeted by the sound of people chilling in their living rooms or enjoying a glass of Sauvignon Blanc on their deck. So, we looked at each other knowing we pretty much looked like idiots in our PJs, beaming a flashlight about like over-excited treasure hunters in a Maya temple.

So tomorrow, we’re off to hike in the Tararua Forest Park. We drove past an apple orchard yesterday: I bet Ed will make us stop there as he only ever eats apple when they are fresh off a tree, something to do about Canada’s amazing refrigeration power and the fact that we’re always eating last year’s apple back home.