So far, my trip is everything I’ve dreamed it could be: boring.
I don’t mean boring as in disappointing. I mean boring in the best possible way. The kind of boring where yesterday’s highlight was Kathy and I taking turns mowing the lawn—and that little spike in heart rate was about as wild as things have gotten. And I’m thrilled about it.
Jet lag has turned me into an unwitting productivity goddess. I’ve been waking at 4 a.m., which makes me look uncharacteristically ambitious. It’s winter here in New Zealand, so sunrise isn’t especially early, but I’ve been up long before it anyway. I stoke the fire, wrap myself in layers of blankets and coats, brew coffee, and write while the sky slowly turns pink over the sea. It’s calm. It’s quiet. It’s everything I needed and didn’t know how to ask for.
Andy (Kathy’s husband) is a hunter, and we’ve been talking about going wallaby hunting. They’re horribly invasive, so this is conservation, not chaos—but still, I feel slightly villainous. If they weren’t so ecologically devastating, I’d be organizing wallaby yoga or photographing their babies in flower crowns. They're ridiculously cute.
The weather has been clear and sunny, but “cold” by my desert-dweller standards. I just left 100-degree heat, so I’m slow to adjust to that brisk slap in the face I feel when I open the door to go outside.
I joined the local gym and will start on Monday. There’s a writer’s group I might check out the same day, and I’m considering sailing lessons on Thursday. Saturday we went to a bird show. Friday, we may venture out to tour the local cheese factory.
And yes, the Cheese Factory might be the second highest my heart rate will get this week. I mean… cheese.
Another highlight has been sneaking off to the Star & Garter cafe with Kathy and having dessert and coffee. We’ve been twice already, and I’d argue it’s high up on my list of “best uses of my time” but also why I need to visit the gym on a regular basis.
I joke about the boredom, but if you’ve ever had time off from the chaos of regular life, you know the truth: every blank space in your planner is just an invitation for administrivial nonsense to creep in. But here? I’m keeping the blank spaces blank on purpose.
This kind of quiet is rare. I’m resisting the urge to fill it, and instead just feel it.
I adore you. I understand boredom and the importance of simple silence and free time.