a long weekend in the sounds
Four days at this bach brought us close. We laughed until we cried over ridiculous salon games. Our dog went feral, wandering in and out of the house, chasing sticks and piling them up in heaps on the beach. Every night, there was a fire inside and a bonfire outside. Breakfasts were noisy affairs, lunches served out on the beach, and dinners scarfed down at a huge round wooden table.
On the morning of my 30th birthday, a friend I've known since I was eight, cooked a pile of pikelets. She put out honey, berries, nutella, mandarin slices, and syrup to go with it. We ate outside on the enormous wraparound deck, looking out over silver ferns, camellias, mimosa trees, and the Moetapu Sound. My husband, in my favourite Nepali tradition, gave me my
. I baked my birthday cake from a recipe from
and it turned out perfectly. We lit a bonfire that night and the stars were so bright. We breathed sighs of relief that we'd successfully avoided causing a forest fire after casting one lone wish lantern into the sky.
Having lived in the inner city for over seven years, it's only on getaways like this that I realise how light and noise is a constant in city life. At the bach, when I turned out the lights in our bedroom, it was pitch black inside and out and the silence was complete.