Day one

It was a Saturday morning, the second to last day of the year. The night before had felt long, and Ben and I had watched The Lobster, which triggered a dark, uncomfortable feeling in me (probably not the best film to watch the night before a month away from home). Tash and I set off on our drive around 9:20 am the next morning, taking the back route along the rural highway, only making a toilet stop in a small town with one pub and a gas stop in the first set of shops after the winding desert road. The Beatles tape played on repeat, the words and hills rolling into one repeated scene. We drove just over two hours at a time, navigating unfamiliar roads and dodgy uphill passing lanes, our car packed tight ready for four weeks away. It was a freeing feeling, knowing that home would be wherever we decided it would be. We eventually hit the Wellington coast, the waves crashing with relief. “and so it begins”...I thought. That night, we stayed just outside Wellington city, off the highway, where we were greeted with a lovely Airbnb host and the most comfortable sleep of the next two weeks. 

Photos: Kaleidoscopes of the sky on our journey down to Wellington 


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