Arohanui, Aotearoa

It was my belief that Pōhutukawa on the beach, golden sand, Christmas on the beach, was the stuff of myth and Telecom ads, designed to evoke some sort of collective resonance amongst New Zealanders searching for a sense of belonging and shared heritage. I was wrong. It's real. It's ours.

In a rental car whose model name was particularly apt for the region (Nelson holds the title of sunniest region in New Zealand), driving from Nelson through to Pohara was breathtaking. I loved it. Green. Hills. Breathing. Feeling.

Camping in the Nelson region over Christmas is a Christchurch residents' rite of passage. I had never done it until now. Now that I'm in Melbourne, of course I wanted to go camping in Pohara...

I stayed with friends whose family had made the pilgrimage north every year for over thirty years. Now the children have had children and they all go north to camp by the sea.

Pohara means poor, destitute, poverty-stricken in maori and yet this is a region rich in beauty, flora, fauna, kai moana, vineyards, hops, clear springs. Beautiful. Mythical. I loved it.