Hello All,

Late at night… however, I hope to be able to share some of my impressions with you.

After having stayed with numerous host families, I am still being touched by the warmth of all those people, who welcome me into their house.  Having been on the other side, as hostess of Varlet Farm for many  years, I finally understand what my guests meant when saying that I provided “ a home away from home”. After months of travelling, I have been fortunate enough to experience this on many occasions. Am I born under a lucky star to find myself exposed to that many positive experiences?

On Saturday afternoon, I am being expected in the local RSA of Masterton. I have been introduced to a mixed group of people, all of them bitten by the history bug. No official lecture is scheduled here: instead, I have a lovely chat with all this people after which I am being guided in their own small museum, that proves to be a labour of love.

Paul and Angela are real animal lovers: Two dogs and three cats are part of the family. Where as I would describe myself much more as a dog person, I often end up getting the attention of the cats. In this case a British Blue (which wasn’t blue at all but did have the typical flat nose) decided that I would make good company during the night : to that extend that she woke me up, snoring next to me ear, to convince me of her choice in the middle of the night!

Hm, being a guest surely offers some advantages. On Sunday, I had been invited to a guided tour in Peter Jackson’s  (yes the one of “The lord of the rings”!) collection of WW I planes. My host couldn’t believe his ears, when learning that I was to be taken around by a guide. Fact is that I have been able to render at least one Kiwi happy, since my guide didn’t mind that my host joined in. To Paul this was the cave of Ali Baba! The collection of planes on display is beyond belief: 3 authentic WWI  planes, nicely on a row, next to a long row of rebuilt ones, all with an original engine. Just to blow me over completely, the guide announced that all of these planes were still flying. I don’t know whether I must have looked with too much disbelief on my face but fact is that 2 of these old machines were pushed out of the hangar, in order to take off only minutes later. This journey has been a long succession of highlights, but I guess this experience scores really high on my scale!

Every now and then one has to relax, so it is essential to reserve some time for that too. In this case my spare time was nicely filled in by an invitation to attend a birthday party. Jack, who has gone a long way to build up my Wellington schedule, turned 65, good enough reason for a true party. However, they do even better since Jack’s wife  gets to 65 just a week later: in other words, I am in for a double party! And that is how I end up, as a single Belgian, in and amongst a group of celebrating Kiwis. Or wasn’t I?  At some point a lady walked towards me, addressing me very friendly with “ Hoe maak je het ? “ (how do you do?) . Loes, a Dutch lady had followed the love of her life as far as the other side of the world. Born in Brunsem, she learned to know a very different world here. No doubt, she liked what she saw, since 40 years down the road, she is still here.

When one is feeling fine, saying goodbye isn’t fun. That was no different on Monday : I regret having to leave Paul and Angela’s house, on my way to my next destination.  Wairarapa College had shown some interest in my lectures and has been so considerate to invite the students of some private schools as well. So instead of presenting my lecture three times to different schools, I end up doing one lecture for three schools. My vocal cords are grateful to them!

After a lunch stop with Loes and John, we head to Featherston. The road winds through a landscape that could serve as backdrop in a movie. I simply can not describe the different shades of green. And don’t I just have to agree with my NZ hosts, telling me there are more sheep than people in this country:  the number of wool producers, I have seen here, undoubtedly surpasses the entire Belgian arsenal.

Arriving in Featherston: priority number one is to get rid of that big red suitcase before I have to head to my next appointment, which is a lecture in Anzac Hall. This historic building was for so many Kiwis the place where they had their last dance. Thousands of young men have dreamed of the big adventure that awaited them. A few months later, that dream tuned out to be their worst nightmare.

In a young country, where there are few historic buildings, it would be such a shame not to cherish this piece of preserved history.  Considering that the centenary of the Great War is approaching quickly, I can only hope that the NZ government will recognise the importance of Anzac Hall in such a way that they will assure that this jewel on the crown is being preserved for future generations.

It seems like I keep repeating myself: the hospitality of this country is unlimited. In the evening, over a glass of excellent Sauvignon Blanc (and that alone is good enough reason for me to consider immigration!), we reflect over the day. Not only do Adrienne and Don offer me wonderful accommodation but, more importantly, a listening ear and a lot of advice. I feel so fortunate that fate has brought me this way.

Time is putting the days like pearls on a string: the cord of my journey is one, which is determined by the many impressions and experiences I have encountered. I will wear it for the rest of my life as a symbol of the total transformation my life has gone through.  Meeting people, that is the mainspring of my existence… needless to say that travelling provided the ideal platform for this.

Today, I am being introduced to Marcus who is about to pick up a job at the Auckland War Memorial Museum. A driven man with a vision and a palpable enthusiasm to fulfil his job to the best of his ability. When saying goodbye, it crosses my mind, how lucky a man he is: his career has been given an unexpected twist, which gives him the chance to develop himself to the most. It doesn’t take long to make the link to my own life: perhaps I am, just like Marcus, on the eve of a new direction in my life? 

Although New Zealand is a lot smaller than Oz, it is still a lot bigger than Belgium. Is that why it doesn’t even amaze me any more when Don tells me, it takes more than one hour to drive to his office. The winding road we follow, runs along steep cliffs on one side and deep ravines on the other. Too bad the clouds are hanging so low, making it impossible to take any pictures. When my host tells me that he likes to hit the accelerator, it brings a smile to my face: my brother used to drive a rally car, so when it comes to speed, I am used to something!

Back in Wellington, I am heading to the Ministry of Heritage and Culture since I have a lecture scheduled for the historians working there, reason enough to render me nervous. Well known names such as Glyn Harper, John Crawford and Ian McGibbon are in the audience: all of them being experts in military history. Lecturing to such an audience always sets me sharp: I just want to prove that I know my stuff too!

Yesterday, I ended up in a new family: Elizabeth and John and their 2 lovely teenage daughters, who undoubtedly deserve an award for most active girls in the region: hockey, polo, ballet… they do it all! Fact is that I need to start up a database with all the names of the families which have hosted me over the last 6 months… quite a long list that will end up to be.

A very early start this morning, since I have a lecture in a school in Lower Hutt. A teacher, with the unusual name Corone, collects me in order to take me to this private school.  A beautiful building, a disciplined public and grateful teachers: enough for me to leave for Wellington again with a very happy feeling.

Every now and then, I reflect on the past. Two years ago I had no travel experience at all; I knew nothing of that great world surrounding me. My journey has not only proven to be one of many miles, more than that, it has become a journey of emotions. Everyone, who has been in a similar situation, will recognise that it is not all that simple to leave everything behind. It is not all that easy to close the door behind you, knowing only too well that it will never open again. It is quite frightening to come to the realization that suddenly you end up being all alone in the world. Of course I have my children but as long as they can not see that life is more than just black or white, I have to sit back patiently. I can still feel the uncertainty weighing on my shoulders, when realising that from now on, I have to guarantee my  own future. At the age of 53 and with no degree, I am very much aware of the fact that the path, I have chosen to walk on, will not always prove to be a smooth one.

For those amongst you, who doubt what life has to offer , I have only one advice: follow your heart.  My heart told me that I was dying of loneliness. And no, I have no alternative (although the gossip in the village was that I have someone waiting for me in every country) but I ended up being trapped in a situation, where I had nothing more to lose: either I died a little more from day to day … or ventured to leap from the cliffs, hoping that I could swim by the time I hit the water. I am going for option nr 2 and can now whole heartedly say that I have no regrets.

Enough talk for now. Soon I will take the bus (always a fun exercise to find out which one) to return to the family I am staying with. Provided I can get online, I will upload this story, hoping it can captivate you… Charlotte’s story is one of many episodes!

Warm greetings,

Charlotte

Copyright: Charlotte Descamps 2012