I boxed up Mr. Bike and boarded the plane. For the 2nd time on this journey I was leaving ground, this time headed for New Zealand.
New Zealand. The dream destination I had been fantasising about visiting ever since 11-year-old me for the first time got to watch Gandalf roll his wooden waggon into the Shire.
On the flight I stayed in my seat. Counting the minutes that refused to pass, pleading with time to finally get its act together and get a move on. Listening to the sound of my finger tips restlessly tapping against the armrest I was sharing with the wrinkly lady next to me. For a second my mind wandered, imagining the adventures she might be on her way home from. Only to immediately go back to the not very productive activity of mentally trying to push time forward.
I hadn’t moved an inch since sitting down a few hours earlier. Still I could feel my heart beating through my chest. I was excited. Nervous even.
New Zealand.
The place in itself was not what was on my mind though.
They were.
I think you can relate. No – I know you can:
1) Imagine two of your best friends in this life.
2) Say goodbye.
3) Leave for 1½ years.
4) … & then. REUNITE.
I don’t think I there is too much to say here. There were zero bicycles. Instead my first 3 weeks in New Zealand (which indeed is incredible) consisted of approximately a gazillion laughs, hugs and more or less comprehensible solutions to everything from roasting kumera to world peace.
I’ll spare you the details. But in short; there were 3 girls and a red Toyota. Coffee. And there was friendship.
And it was all quite great.
Well. Yeah.
Thank you girls for coming. I love you.
See you when I get home.
Fredrika