It’s funny what your mind gets to thinking and turning over as you drive. Mine was ripping through the gears, packed to the gunnels with unfamiliar names to put together with two or even three times met faces in places best described as the ‘back of beyond’ in that shy way that being new to [...]
Auckland city is the region that spans from the west coast with it’s rugged coast lines, black sand beaches, over mountain ranges, through the cosmopolitan ‘City of Sails’, over to the white sandy beaches of the east coast and on out to the islands of the Hauraki Gulf.
Back in Auckland city I was feeling quite claustrophobic having left behind us the wide open spaces of the Helensville countryside. I’m not too sure Helensvillians will like hearing I’ve let the cat out of the bag on their best-kept secret of better than average well-being so mum’s the word from here on out, okay?
With all our goodbyes behind us, we drove out along Haranui Road one last time, blew kisses in the direction of the urupa to Nanny Moewaka where she and Arka lay, charges of Papatuanuku and finally headed back towards Auckland. We decided a detour to
Gathering for our last meal together in the whare kai, nothing managed to savage my tastebuds more than the errant tendrils of the cooked hangi smells now wafting from the kitchen into the small dining room. It had been 17 years since I last ate hangi on home soil and now
Listening to the tributes about my great grandmother Moewaka Jane Rapana (or Nama as she was affectionately called) it wasn’t hard to imagine her walking between us all standing there. It seemed fitting that she would rest on the high hill overlooking her beloved
It was an ambivalent day, the day of my great grandmother Moewaka Jane Rapana’s unveiling, ambivalent how? Well, neither the day nor the weather could agree who was going to have first say about how events would pan out and eventually we left them to argue between themselves like siblings in a childhood dust up.
The first time I exchanged a memorable hongi was with a very distinguished maori gentleman at the Wellington Art Gallery (during a private showing of a Goldie exhibition). He looked uncomfortable standing in a line-up top heavy with
P.D. Eastman wrote the classic Children’s Book ‘Are You My Mother?’ the story of a baby bird that has hatched while his mother was away. Fallen from his nest, he sets out to look for her and asks everyone he meets — including a dog, a cow, and a