Familiarity – and a sense of dislocation

We flew to Auckland on Tuesday afternoon. We were only just in time for check-in, and by the time we reached security, the first boarding announcement was being made. We were seated together at the back of the plane.

This was an Airbus 320D. It seemed to us that the plane had been stretched, length ways, and the seating was very tight indeed. we are not big people! The safety video featured beautiful people and an amazingly athletic young man.

When we got to Auckland we picked up our rental car, a Hyundai Sonata, and drove to check in to our motel – one of many on Great South Road in Epsom, all of them busy. We were across the road from Dilworth School. The weather there was much like Wellington: a cold wind, flashes of sunshine, and showers of rain – probably more frequent than in Wellington. The school’s church featured an enormously steep roof, reminiscent of a 1960’s style of building.

Our motel was very small – there was a bedroom and bathroom, with a small table and two chairs but no easy chairs, and no sink or microwave. There was a small fridge, a hot water jug and toaster, and minimal crockery.

The bathroom, also tiny, held a shower over a nice bath, and a shelf and a duchess unit – surprisingly, there was room to put our sponge bags. There was no luggage rack, but there were removable hangers in the wardrobe, and good bedside lights, and bedside units with drawers. There was an overwhelming smell of disinfectant – to kill bed bugs, I wondered?

What it did have going for it was a comfortable bed, a heat pump, ample hot water, and a television set with all channels, including Soho. So, barring the smell, and the difficulty in washing mugs and glasses, we were warm and comfortable. Despite the heat pump, there was a lot of condensation each morning we were there. We were thankful for windows that opened, and sunshine most mornings. The traffic noise wasn’t at all bad. There was also a power converter – a boon for overseas travelers.

Auckland is so different from Wellington. It has places of great grace and beauty – St Matthew’s in the City, the Domain, the Art Gallery, the Museum, the Winter-garden, the Harbour Bridge, the Civic Theatre, and many attractive parks, hills and beaches; how then to explain the brash newness and ugliness and the “fly by night” feel of so many of its buildings? It seems to me that the Sky Tower demonstrates this quality of the city well – it’s grandiose but not quite tall enough for its large spire.

The first night I wanted to go to an Italian restaurant we had previously been to and enjoyed, but it was no longer to be found in Greenlane. Instead, we went to another one in Manakau Road. It looked dark and we wondered if it was open, but it was very busy. Nevertheless, we were welcomed in by a very nice Maori woman. We enjoyed the pesto bread and our meals there. It seemed to be run by Maori and Chinese. and, sadly, there was no Italian opera playing, so one could hear others’ conversations, even if one didn’t want to.

Later that evening, back at the motel we watched Chernobyl on Soho, and reread the section of the book Midnight in Chernobyl to compare notes. A dramatisation is always different from a book, but both were very well done. I thought again how nuclear was our own climate change crisis, when many of us were aware of the enormous dangers that nuclear energy posed, while some tried to spin it as a “clean” source of energy. It also seems to me that there are significant differences between creating nuclear weapons (as a one-off, albeit potentially very destructive), and using nuclear energy on a permanent basis as a source of power. Now that climate change threatens disruption to sites of nuclear power plants with flooding and sea-level rise, the danger seems even greater. The accident at Chernobyl reminds us of the unpredictable nature of the many risks involved, as well as the long-term nature of any nuclear contamination. It really messes up human beings as well as the environment for a very long time, way beyond our own and our descendants’ lifetimes.

The next day we visited our friends nearby. We had a nice morning-tea with them, and arranged to return that evening.

We had lunch at Hello Friends + Allies, a good choice. JD had a salad (an Asian Coleslaw) and I had dumplings. We had been there with our son 18 months earlier. While we were there, JD had a busy spell on his phone.

We spent the evening with our friends, and then met them again for morning tea the next day. We both had a good chance to talk to them, both together and separately. It was wonderful to “catch up” and see them again, more than once. With old friends, you just carry on from last time – our relationship is a kind of continuum. Long may it continue. There are many years of shared experiences – raising children, welcoming grandchildren, wonderful trips to Australia and abroad, and now, confronting different challenges – health, relationships, spirituality, and finding new ways of living.

That afternoon, we went to Takapuna. We discovered there was a new tunnel on the motorway on the way to the Harbour Bridge. We visited the BDO building – another monstrosity, in my view! But everyone was very helpful.

Afterwards I wanted to check out the shops – I had remembered the shops at Takapuna as being quite attractive, including a very nice bookshop. But either they had changed, or I was looking in the wrong place. There were lots of cafes and ethnic eateries, but few shops, and no clothing or craft shops. I did see a beautiful Wallace Cotton store, light, bright and sunny, next to a rather sad Paper Plus store, but I was not even tempted to buy anything. JD remarked later that probably most people bought stuff online nowadays.

I sat outside reading the Herald while waiting for JD, but it was quite cold and windy (after being sunny earlier on), so I had a kiddie-sized Movenpick cappuccino ice cream to enable me to sit down inside, while still attempting the Code Cracker.

We drove back to Epsom. In Auckland, sometimes the traffic moves quite fast, at other times it seems grid-locked, when you wouldn’t expect it to be – not peak hours, or school-closing hours.

That evening we went to another restaurant in the Greenlane area. We ordered two entrees and a bread platter – a wise choice. This restaurant didn’t look open, either! It was quite cold there, but interesting – they had a set of Arthur Mee’s Encyclopedia.

The next morning we decided there wasn’t really time to go into the city to the Art Gallery, but instead we got to the Airport really quickly – a surprise. Still, it’s good to have plenty of time and not be in a rush. We flew back on another Airbus 320, just as tight inside, but this time with a personal entertainment system. Sadly, you had to bring your own headphones to use it. Mine were backed away in my stowed luggage.

What a strange place Auckland is – a collection of cities, really. It was disconcerting to find so many of the places we remembered no longer there, in spite of recognition and familiarity with others. Among many visits to Auckland, I remembered in particular the time I walked from Auckland University to our house in Greenlane, and the night I spent there watching Princess Diana’s funeral on television. The traffic noise, and the occasion, made sleeping difficult. That afternoon the National Youth Choir had sung Britten’s War Requiem at the Holy Trinity Cathedral in Parnell. It seemed strangely appropriate.

We don’t have any particular Easter traditions. Back in the day, there were Easter eggs (usually marshmallow filled), and Hot Cross Buns. I remember one time going to hear Bach’s St Matthew Passion. Sometimes we went to Taupo to see JD’s parents. I respect the fact that it is a very Holy Time for many Christians. When the boys were growing up there were usually concerts.

Although I’ve looked at Simnel Cake recipes, I’ve never made one. I have searched out the best place to buy buns, and realise it is quite subjective, really. I was never any good at making them and gave up after a while. What’s in them, anyway?

In reality, it is now a time to be got through. It is school holidays, and the local cafe is closed for statutory holidays. One stocks up with library books. The Long Easter weekend (with Good Friday and Easter Monday being statutory holidays) is taken here more seriously than Christmas, with the local supermarket being closed for Good Friday and Easter Sunday. There is no Christmas Eve late night shopping or Boxing Day sales, although there is still wrangling over shopping on Good Friday. One doesn’t want to be on the road at such a busy time. Many cafes, if open, have a surcharge.

A few years ago Easter Egg hunts were a thing. Now many children receive Easter baskets. I guess I am relieved that this is no longer expected of me by my children!

But we do like to speak to all our children at Easter time. This did not go so well this year. We tried to speak to our daughter on Easter Sunday. She said no; her carer she had been to Sunday Service and was busy making a cup of tea. It was suggested we try again later.

When we rang again, she was watching “The Sound of Music” and again wouldn’t speak to us! I guess a lady has the right to say “No”, but JD and I were both disappointed. She had seemed very pleased to see us the weekend before. I always send her something special for Easter.

JD sent a message to our eldest son to ask if it was a good time to ring. It wasn’t convenient. Another son and his family were off to Taupo. JD contacted our youngest son via text, and exchanged messages before he and his wife caught a train.

One son came to visit bringing his daughter. That was a big thrill. It was great to see them both.

So much for Easter traditions! I come from family who although deeply religious, regarded Christmas and Easter as pagan festivals, and did not celebrate them. They celebrated birthdays – back in the day having chicken for dinner was a birthday treat, and I could choose what type of cake I would like. Cynthia and her parents would come to dinner. It was all quite low-key compared to nowadays. I guess I am conflicted now. But I do like to celebrate Christmas and Easter in my own rather understated way. They are special to me, for various reasons.

There are many special dates that we don’t uphold, such as Valentine’s Day, and Halloween. We don’t make a big deal of Mother’s Day or Father’s Day. I hate to see these so commercialized. Mother’s Day is special to me because my eldest granddaughter was born on Mother’s Day in 2012. Not everyone has a mother or a father alive who was kind to them. Birthdays and wedding anniversaries are important, as are Christmas and Easter. Anniversaries of loved ones’ deaths are becoming important.

It’s good to have contact with our loved ones at these special times.

How very sad it is to hear about the tragic fire at the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Thankfully, no one was killed there. How much I enjoyed the singing – quite beautiful and different. I remember its sense of permanence, of strength, and of great beauty and solidity.

This has brought back memories of our three visits to Notre Dame, and visits to other famous churches.

The first visit to Notre Dame was in January 1974, when you walked through the vegetable markets (Les Halles) in the Ile de la Cite to get to the Cathedral. We climbed onto the roof. The gargoyles were very scary.

In February 2010 we returned. This time our bags were screened, although entry was free of charge. Bad weather meant we could not climb the tower but we did see Le Tresor.

In July 2016 we came back again, but climbing the tower was now out of the question. An African priest said Mass. I like the way church is part of everyday life in Europe – church services carry on, people go in and out, you can sit down and listen and enjoy what’s being said. They turn the heating on! A friend of mine found it rather dark; for me, it is just there, recognizable, and beautiful. Afterwards we had lunch nearby, admiring the extraordinary exterior.

In 2010 we visited the famous Sacre Coeur at Montmartre, but to me it wasn’t as impressive as Notre Dame.

Back in our 1970’s trip we attended Mass at the cathedral at Toulouse, still in Latin, recognizable to Catholics everywhere, although the homily was in French. At a street market outside JD bought his maroon velvet suit (later worn by some of our boys). He could then wear the suit out to dinner – we had not realised, coming from New Zealand, how formal people were in England and Europe!

In Vienna we visited St Stephen’s Cathedral. What I remember best is the guard’s glee when, after visiting the Catacombs, we had to climb up a ladder and make our way through a trapdoor to get out!

In Milan we saw the famous Duomo, with the statue of Saint Bartholemew holding his skin.

In Italy we went to the Duomo in Florence (Firenze), where we saw one of Michelangelo’s Pieta, and we climbed the dome (for the first time). It was like an eggshell within another eggshell. Before climbing the stairs between the shells, you can walk around the base of the dome (inside) and admire the painted ceiling. What a beautifull place! And how nice to wander around in 1974, when most things were free. In 2010 a child kept jumping on the narrow walkway, which I found quite unsettling.

We visited St Mark’s in Venice in 1974. St Mark’s Square was windswept, but the almost deserted cathedral was quite beautiful, although we were both a bit disorientated and overwhelmed by all the ancient beauty and the history of it all. There were relics there – really!

We also saw St Peter’s at the Vatican twice, in 1974 and again in February 2010, home to Michelangelo’s Pieta of the young Madonna and her Son, Jesus. St Peter’s is vast. There are marks on the floor indicating how small other great cathedrals are, in comparison. The golden altar is very grand, and there are lots of entombed bodies. In 2010 we climbed the spire, but I found it very vertiginous, and was desperate to get down again. The Italians seemed to keep sending tourists up there, despite the cold, wind, and lack of space.

In Palermo in 2010 we saw yet more magnificence, and I kept getting the impression, after being repeatedly charged for everything, that the Catholic Church was very rich indeed.

We went to the small town of Monreale, and waited for the church to re-open, drinking wine and coffee at a cafe and trying not to flush the toilet with toilet paper!
This was one of the famous gold-decorated churches – another style altogether. I am so pleased we saw this. Then we saw the Norman Cathedral in Palermo, more gold decoration.

Have we had enough sumptuous churches, Madonnas, paintings yet?

At the end of our trip in 2010, between catching the overnight train from Palermo and going to Fiumicino Airport to begin our flight back to New Zealand, we visited a special church in Rome: Santa Maria della Vittoria, which housed the famous statue by Bernini, the Ecstasy of St Teresa. We had tried to visit this several times, and it was always locked. But now it was open – there was to be a service. They turned on the heating (you still had to pay 2 Euros for a light to be shone on the sculpture), but we sat down and enjoyed the matter-of-fact rendition of the Mass in Italian.

In London we saw Westminster Abbey, and Southwark Cathedral, which I had thought was the burial place of Geoffrey Chaucer, one of my favourite poets, on whom I’d done an Honours paper. He was also partly the inspiration for my son Geoffrey’s name. Since then I can find no record of Chaucer’s being buried there. But we did visit the Cathedral. At that time it was near a motorway on ramp, mixing beauty and ugliness in a very English way.

We also went to Canterbury Cathedral, twice – the inspiration for T.S. Eliot’s poetic drama Murder in the Cathedral where Thomas Becket was killed. A beautiful and awesome place. In 2010, it was distinguished by having a Starbucks outside.
We have also been to York Minster, twice – another beautiful church, although last time there were places we couldn’t visit because Mediaeval Morality Plays were being performed. The Rose window is lovely, and there is a statue of Constantine outside!
In Glasgow we visited the imposing Cathedral of St Mungo, with mauve stained glass windows, a necropolis nearby, and Blackadder Aisle.

And then there is Cambridge, England – the King’s College Chapel, with its distinctive choir, its Adoration of the Magi by Rubens, and its roof space. We visited this in 2010, climbed the stairs, and looked out over Cambridge and the River Cam. We also attended Evensong. In 2016 we visited the Chapel at Christ’s College, Cambridge – quite a small space, but the scene of many important events.

I also visited the Catholic Cathedral at Lancaster, together with Alfred. This too was memorable. In the UK one is constantly reminded of the sometimes bitter conflict between the Catholic and Protestant faiths.

Bear with me, I am almost done here!

In July 2016 we visited the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. We were very fortunate to buy tickets to visit the Cathedral on our second day there. What a marvellous place! Light-filled, different, quite wonderful, and quite non-Catholic, to me. What a welcoming, embracing place! It is inspiring, and still unfinished, but amazing. The Spanish designers have been allowed to have their way in creating beautiful spaces.

And, on another note, we visited the Picasso museum in the Gotic quarter, and a church nearby, where there was a service taking place. I recognise the 23rd Psalm: El Signor es mi Pastore…

All cathedrals are different…in my view, God is not confined to church spaces, but many churches have a particular spirituality, and an atmosphere of peace and quiet and joy. In my dreams I will visit Notre Dame again, when it has been rebuilt.

Suddenly, one evening in March, the central library closed. We were told that afternoon, so there was no chance for a final visit, no time to say Goodbye.

This presents an opportunity, I decided. Where else can I go to drink coffee, read magazines, browse and borrow books, use the restroom, in a warm environment where there are elevators and escalators, and the bus stop is near by? One is not rushed here – there is plenty of room, and plenty of time. The coffee and food aren’t always great, but the staff are cheerful (and helpful, sometimes), and one can linger, guilt-free. Unity Books is nearby, providing inspiration for new books to borrow.

So where can I go now? There must be a nice cafe, with seats with backs, and reasonable coffee…perhaps somewhere like Kaizen in Porirua?
I could go there by bus from Johnsonville, although the WRC in its wisdom changed the bus routes so that the buses to and from Johnsonville don’t stop outside Pataka any more. Now one has to walk to Porirua Station (about 20 minutes) – which is all right on a fine day, but not great when it’s cold, wet or windy.

Walking is usually a challenge in any city. While there are some walkways, pedestrian crossings are few and far between, and it does seem a tad dangerous to walk through a parking lot.

Perhaps I could check out the library at Tawa? The cafes there aren’t up to much. I had got used to WCL, come to terms with it, even had the seniors’ discount applied: they charge for renewals (you can only renew once!), for each day a book is returned late, and for reserves delivered to a local branch.

Outside Johnsonville Library the pedestrian crossing was removed. One must walk up or down Broderick Road to cross at a controlled crossing, an unpleasant chore if it is windy, so often it is preferable to go to Wellington Central Library.

Don’t they want us to use libraries and post offices? One wonders, sometimes. Access is a huge challenge – not just for me, but for parents and young children – or anyone on foot.

A new library is being built in Johnsonville next to the Keith Spry pool. I hope there will be a walkway to it from the shopping centre.

The transport changes are a challenge to which I have bravely risen. I know every bus stop in the Wellington area, and if you miss the bus, there’s usually another one in 30 minutes or so, so one always takes something to read. I’ve learnt to access Metlink on my phone so that I know if buses are replacing trains (a big thumbs down) or there is a delay or a signal failure.

There is a Library in Lower Hutt. Perhaps I will try that.

But WCL has been there for me on many dark, cold days. I will miss it.