Memory is a strange thing. The past is nothing more than stories we tell ourselves. Often, when trying to recall particulars, I wonder at how the story spins itself from fleeting fragments, and vivid shards, from the delight of the senses, from a depth of feeling. We tell ourselves these stories, and whether we lose pieces along the way, the stories become the past.
My memories of Waiheke Island are steeped in sunshine, the overwhelming, brilliant kind that makes you squint even behind sunglasses and raises the scent of hot, dry grass. They are filled with a freshening ocean breeze, laden with salt and the promise of the sea on your skin.
Our home on the island was an entirely extravagant beach cabin at Connell’s Bay. As you may have guessed, yes, we have been entering the luxury portion of our honeymoon (just wait for Fiji!).
Though our stay began rather inauspiciously with our being stranded at the top of the lodge’s extremely steep and pitted gravel drive (though our faithful Rana braved many an off-road, this was simply ridiculous), necessitating a hot and dusty trek down with our ungainly luggage, once we arrived all was very nearly forgiven.
Salade nicoise and wine on the deck will cure just about anything. As will such proximity to the ocean. And sunshine.
We soon settled into a rhythm of swimming, sun-bathing, eating, and reading on the porch.
With time for chili pepper portrait sessions of course.
We did venture out once or twice, exploring the charming, if touristy village, meandering past vineyards, and admiring the local fleet.
Jacob even got to try his first cronut.
And I gorged myself on the ridiculously photogenic scenery.
More often then not this was Jacob’s view:
But all those cries of “Pull over here!” were so worth it, isn’t that right my love?
Waiheke, je t’adore.
To be continued…
P.S. A year ago last Sunday I married the love of my life, my best friend, my missing piece, my rock, my soul companion, my partner in crime these past 8 and 1/2 years. Happy anniversary again my sweet Jacob, I love you more than I can say.
On our first camping trip, 2006.
