Easter has come and gone! It’s the biggest holiday in the Czech calendar and one I’ve been looking forward to celebrating for months. The big day for celebration is actually Easter Monday (unlike at home), but the Sunday is an important day as well, with final preparations being made. Here’s the breakdown!

21 April: Easter Sunday

In the days leading up to Easter I realised something which I think has been realised by every person overseas during a holiday – that their traditions are a part of them and no matter how much fun they’re having in this foreign culture, it’s just not the same Easter/Christmas/ANZAC Day without the traditions that have shaped them since they were born. As a result of this, I went to the supermarket with a recipe for Hot Cross Buns and not a lot of hopefulness about finding all the ingredients. I managed it alright though – gingerbread spice was substituted for mixed spice, and some kind of weird candied fruit pieces served instead of candied peel, but apart from that I found everything I needed. I’ve never made Hot Cross Buns before – they’re so much easier to buy, but obviously that wasn’t an option here – and it was even more challenging with a new recipe in a new kitchen with Babička busily finishing off the traditional Czech Easter food around me and me having to call René downstairs to translate every time I needed some more butter or a large tray with baking paper. But the buns were easier to make than I anticipated and they turned out pretty much the same as the New Zealand version, only slightly drier. I’ll admit, I was surprised, but very pleasantly so!

The most important task to be done on Easter Sunday is the traditional weaving of the whips. Nowadays many Czechs buy their whips – most of Czech calls them pomlázka, but in this part of the country they’re called karabáč – in the supermarkets in the run-up to Easter but I’m lucky enough that René’s family still makes their own. So after lunch on Easter Sunday (we had fried cheese, a Czech specialty and just as caloric as it sounds) all the relations showed up to Babička and Dědeček’s house – René’s Teta (Aunt) Iveta, her son Radím with his wife Jana and children Filip and Adéla, as well as René’s brother Jiří and his son Sebi – unfortunately his wife Marika was still ill. We corralled the children together and set off across the paddock behind the house heading for the forest, with Dědeček in the lead.

It was such fun gallivanting across the paddock with the little boys in tow. I remarked to René that it must be an incredible experience for Dědeček – he used to take René, Jiří, Radím and his brother Martín (now living in the US) to gather willow for the karabáče when they were little, and now here he was doing the exact same thing with them and their children. René translated this remark to Dědeček, who replied that it was “beyond imaginable”.

Before we knew it we were on the outskirts of the forest. There was a flood here from the Ostravice river about 20 years ago, and all the trees were washed away, but now the willows are growing back with plenty of new growth to harvest. The best willow branches for weaving are the young ones, as they’re still thin and supple, and of course they must all be in good condition, unforked, and with the same length. It’s no easy task!

Generally speaking it’s just the boys who make karabáč, but I was offered the chance to prepare my own and jumped on it! I was sent off on my own to harvest the willow for it, and ended up with a lot of strands that were far too thick. I definitely paid for this mistake later on when I had to weave them! René’s strands were all perfect – the result of 25 years of practice. We brought them back to Babička and Dědeček’s house and wove them outside on the lawn. I needed a couple of goes to get mine right and my fingers were aching by the end from the tough willow. René had his done in a trice. And the karabáče that Radím wove for himself and his children were works of art!

Afterwards Babička brought out all the lovely food she’d prepared and we had a wonderful afternoon tea. I had gone to pieces with homesickness shortly after completing my karabáč, much to my surprise and irritation, but I managed to pull myself together enough to present my hot cross buns to the assembled relatives with good grace. They all appeared to enjoy them and made many kind comments.

When the afternoon tea finished we went to the house of Milan, an old friend of René’s who lives in a garden house not dissimilar to Hannes’, just outside of Frýdek-Místek. We were so full from afternoon tea we didn’t need dinner, but enjoyed a lovely time drinking by the open fire as he and the others had their BBQ and the sun set slowly behind the flowering blossom trees. It was absolutely idyllic.

22 April: Easter Monday

We woke up very early on Easter Monday to make it back to Babička’s house by 8am. I was just washing my face in the bathroom when I saw Dědeček taking a photo of me in the mirror, then before I knew it I was being lightly tapped with a karabáč as Dědeček recited the traditional Easter poem:

Hody hody doprovody
dejte vejce malovaný.
Nedáte-li malovaný,
dejte aspoň bílý
slepička Vám za to snese jiný.

Which translates as:

“Give me a colored egg, if you won´t give me a colored egg, give me at least a white one and get your hen to lay another.”

As the poem is recited, the woman is tapped in certain places in a certain order. First the legs so they walk, then the hands so they work, then the back so it doesn’t ache, then the bum so it farts, then the head so it thinks. Dědeček then proceeded to gently wash my face and spray me with perfume. The idea behind this ritual of whipping, washing and spraying with perfume is that the more men and boys do this to you on Easter, the younger you’ll stay and the better shape your body will be in as you age. To thank them you give chocolate to the boys and liquor to the men. It would have been a logistical challenge to carry around a bottle of slivovice so instead I filled my pockets with chocolate ladybugs and gave one to each person who whipped me.

Soon Jiří and Sebi turned up, followed soon after by Radím and Filip. I was whipped by all four in turn, not to mention René, whose whipping was a little harder than the others, and also by one of the neighbours, another Radím, who stopped by to whip everyone and also squirted cold water down the back of our shirts. Not quite as nice as Dědeček’s gentle face-washing!

We ate plenty at Babička’s as there was a huge spread prepared for everyone who would be stopping by. I grilled the rest of the Hot Cross Buns and served them with butter as they’re supposed to be (the day before they’d been raw).

They make a traditional cake for Easter called a beránek, which is in the shape of a sheep with icing sugar for wool and cloves for eyes!

When everyone had eaten their fill the boys and I began the compulsory visiting to all the female family members. Jiří and Sebi in their car, Radím and Filip in theirs, and René and I in ours, with me driving as René had happily accepted the shot of slivovice Babička had offered him after he whipped her and Czech has no alcohol tolerance for driving. Our first stop was at René’s mum’s house. Here I was whipped by René’s stepfather Pavel and his step-grandfather Dědeček Tomáš, who also washed my face with warm water. René’s mum was recovering from major surgery a couple of days prior so we didn’t stay too long. Our second stop was at Teta Iveta’s apartment in downtown Frýdek-Místek, on the 15th floor with beautiful views of the city. The boys were each given about a year’s worth of chocolate there, then we split up, with us heading to Radím’s house to see Jana and Adéla. We stayed for a spot of lunch there – it was bramborák, traditional potato pancakes that René and I both adore. Adéla wanted to sit on my lap the entire time, which made me very happy. Then, very full, we headed to Jiří’s house to see Marika. Jiří and Sebi were already home when we arrived, and we nibbled on potato chips and ate chocolate and then almost fell asleep on the couch with Jiří watching Tom and Jerry! So we headed home and then relaxed for the rest of the day. All in all a fantastic Easter!

We’re in Italy now and I’m behind in my blogging by almost a week. We had three more days in Czech after Easter, in which we met with some friends and generally had a nice time, but I’m not going to write a special post for those. The next one will be all about our time in Bassano del Grappa. We visited Venice yesterday so there’s lots of photos and thoughts to be shared! Stay tuned 🙂

Finally, René and I have had some quality time in the Czech mountains. The weather has recovered from the sulk it was having last week and it’s finally flyable! So the past few days have been spent chasing the wind.

Wednesday 17 April: (attempted) hike and fly of Lysa Hora

On Wednesday, with very few chores left to do and a weather forecast showing a possibility of flying, René and I once again climbed Lysa Hora – this time with our gliders. I’m so looking forward to being a better pilot – René, with his ultralight high-performance gear, was carrying just 8kg, but my bulky and heavy (but safe) gear weighed me down 15kg. Like the gentleman he is, René offered to swap packs with me but as a matter of pride I said no. There are many different routes up the mountain and we started from a completely different place than the last time we climbed it – a small town called Ostravice. The beginning of the walk was lovely, through a beautiful valley clothed in pine and beech trees. Its difference from New Zealand couldn’t have been more pronounced, until we ran across a sign warning about wolves, lynxes and bears!

René was intent on finding an unmarked trail that he’d hiked from Ostravice a couple of years ago and which he remembered was exceedingly beautiful. We followed the trail that we thought was it for a few hundred metres, until it came to an abrupt end. René checked the map and announced that we needed to be about 400 metres up the hill, on the ridgeline. The slope above us was about 45 degrees and covered in slippery fallen leaves, almost impossible to get traction on in some places.

René was far ahead of me (as per usual) as we scrambled up the slope and with my heavy pack I suffered. But about halfway up I stopped for a rest and it was just totally quiet except for the birds singing their strange songs, the slight rustle of wind in the pine trees above me, and the distant babbling of the creek at the bottom of the valley. I felt totally alone and at one with nature and it was just lovely.

We got to another path and followed that one for a bit. It took us across a lovely waterfall!

But then it too petered out. Time for more scrambling! But the view was improving with every step.

René was long gone, I didn’t see him for about an hour and I did start to get quite scared when I called to him and he was too far away to hear me. The mountains and forests of New Zealand feel like home to me but even though I knew there was nothing really to be scared of here it just felt so foreign and I was very tired and alone.

He waited for me shortly after we hit snow and we walked up the last little bit together. We were approaching from the south side (the warm side – so strange!) so the snow line was higher than our first time hiking, when we came from the cold north side. On the way up he showed me two of the paragliding launches. Lysa Hora has three – southwest, southeast and northwest. The only wind direction that it’s not launchable from is northeast. The northwest takeoff is most commonly used and is just grassy, but the southwest and southeast are not as popular and are covered in wild blueberry bushes! Challenging launches for sure, but the views are simply phenomenal.

We got to the top three hours after we began our hike and I was completely exhausted. We checked the wind and sure enough, the northwest takeoff was launchable. So we stretched our tired muscles and had a bite to eat on the sunny deck of the mountaintop bar.

About half an hour later we went back to the northwest takeoff to find one other pilot, Laďa, para-waiting. Paragliders waiting for the right wind on launch is so common that we have our own verb! It had been blowing gently from the north when we arrived, meaning the northwest takeoff would work; now it was blowing pretty strongly from the northeast, meaning the northwest takeoff (and every other takeoff on the mountain) would be in strong rotor and therefore extremely dangerous to launch from. To add insult to injury, it was super thermic and we watched as paragliders launched from Javorový, about 20km away, and then flew all the way to us on strong thermals and prevailing wind. One guy was thermalling right above us. Every second spent watching him was like being kicked in the teeth – I hadn’t flown for almost a month and was absolutely desperate to get in the air, plus hiking all that way with all that physical and emotional stress for nothing was pretty gutting.

René was keen to wait for a while in the hopes that the wind would change, until I reminded him that we had to be home in two-and-a-half hours to move some barrels of fermenting fruit for Babička – his cousin Radím was coming at 6pm sharp as it was a two-man job. René jumped about a metre in the air, having forgotten this obligation completely, and we left five minutes later, almost running down the trail back to Ostravice and arriving home with about 15 minutes to spare.

Thursday 18 April: First flight!

On Thursday morning we headed into town so that René could finally apply for the Czech license plates for the van. As you may recall we have German transit plates on it currently, which expire in about 10 days. Navigating the Czech bureaucracy around importing a car has made the German bureaucracy around selling a car look like a walk in the park. It’s cost a lot of money, a lot of time, and a lot of headaches, but finally we had all the necessary paperwork to go to the transport bureau and apply for the plates.

We waited about 40 minutes for our number to be called and then handed in our paperwork, only to be told it’d take two weeks to process. As René says, with the Czech Republic, it’s always something.

After that we went to Javorový to fly! It’s the most popular flying site in the Beskydy mountain range as it has an enormous takeoff area and can be ascended either by hiking (it takes around half an hour) or by means of an ancient chairlift. Multiple tandem companies and schools operate there, including the school René used to work for, El Speedo. The flight park is a brand new building with a shop selling paragliding gear and El Speedo merchandise, and there’s also a little cafe and restaurant.

We were just getting out of the car at the Javorový carpark when we ran into René’s old boss, Dalibor. He was just about to drive up the mountain – access is restricted but as the owner of El Speedo he’s allowed to use the road. So we jumped in his car and got a quick and easy ride to the top. Great timing! René ran down from the carpark to the launch, calling to me over his shoulder to hurry up – he was so excited to get in the air after such a long hiatus. I was just as excited, but I also wanted to get some photos!

It was a pretty strong prevailing wind but with windows where it was launchable. It would have been challenging to me just because of this but it was doubly challenging due to the layout of the launch – there are pine trees on both sides, meaning that if the wind is coming slightly across the mountain (as it was that day) there was a risk of rotor on one side of the launch. If you weren’t careful you could definitely end up in the trees! But we watched a few people launch, got a sense of how the wind was blowing, and then went for it – René first, then me. My launch definitely wasn’t the best I’ve ever done – I was feeling very rusty – but I got into the air without too much trouble.

I’ve never flown in such a strong prevailing wind before and it was definitely a very different beast from what I’m used to. Facing into the wind my groundspeed was pretty much 0 and the whole side of the mountain was lifting so the trick was to soar backwards and forwards along it to gain height. And typical for springtime, the lift and sink could be very sudden and strong so I definitely had to pay attention! But about 45 minutes into the flight I started to get the hang of it and decided to try a bit of cross country. I went along the ridge, going with the wind, only to find all the lift had vanished. And of course when I tried to turn back I had basically no groundspeed. I started to worry that I wouldn’t make it to the landing field but I somehow limped my way back. The Javorový landing field is challenging – it’s very large, but on the hill side of the landing is a tall set of high-voltage power lines, on the right side are low-voltage power lines, and on the left side and downhill side are rows of trees (causing rotor). It’s also significantly sloped to the point that you could probably fly from it in a strong enough wind, meaning that when you try to land the ground is dropping away beneath you unless you manage to increase your sink rate. I wasn’t comfortable with it at all, especially crossing the high-voltage lines, but I managed to get a little bit of lift here and there and when I was close to them and 200 metres above I decided to go for it with my speed bar. I made it across with plenty of height to spare and managed to land a few minutes later, although it took a couple of tries. The strong wind made it very stressful and I was very pleased to get back to the ground! René was going cross country so I hung out on the landing field for a little while and ground handled my wing with a nice local pilot I met there called Vít, who spoke excellent English and was very pleasant to talk to.

René was planning to fly back to Babička’s so I took the car and drove to meet him. I watched his landing in a field beside the town and then we went back home to regroup. After dinner we went to his favourite pub near the village, Kohutka, to drink beer and smoke shisha. This was the site of his first major paragliding accident – he’d intended to land here, but had misjudged the wind and been slammed by rotor behind the building. He remembers flying over the roof and then his next recollection is of the whirring of the helicopter blades as he was airlifted to hospital. Miraculously he escaped with just a fractured cheekbone which got better in about two weeks. And he definitely became a local legend after that! Kohutka sits on the gentle slope leading up to Prašiva and the views down to the village and to the valley in general were lovely. We sat outside and watched the sun set.

Sunsets in Europe are very orange because of all the pollution – even before the sun touches the horizon it’s possible to look directly at it for about half a second, something that’s never possible in New Zealand. It’s super pretty but it also makes me sad. There’s a big grey smog here that never lifts and it’s making me realise how much of an issue global pollution is.

Anyway. We enjoyed our beers and shisha. René was absolutely raving about his flight from Javorový to Prašiva but I was slightly under the weather – it had been nice to fly but I hadn’t felt comfortable at any point in the air, and we were planning to fly the next day, with even stronger prevailing wind. There’s no feeling quite like being in the air and wishing you were on the ground – it was one I had a lot that day and it’s such a scary one. But I came to Europe to become a better pilot and to push my boundaries, and flying in the Javorový conditions was definitely doing that.

Friday 19 April: Day Two at Javorový

Sure enough, the wind was even stronger when we arrived at Javorový launch on Friday afternoon. We had hiked up the steep slope and I was definitely feeling it in my calves!

René was keen to fly but I made up my mind not to as the wind was just too strong. I was a bit concerned for his launch – the wind was slightly cross, and given the strength it would mean intense rotor if he was unlucky. This wouldn’t be a cause for concern by itself, as René is the best pilot I know, but it was also just his third flight on his new wing – the Advance Omega X-Alps, one of the highest performance (and least stable) wings on the market. I decided to take some photos of his launch as it’s always nice to have photos of oneself in the air. And I’m sure glad I did!

I don’t think I’ve ever gasped so loudly in my life – the collapse was instantaneous and took out about 70% of the wing. Thankfully, it reinflated almost instantly and René didn’t even come close to hitting the ground, but my god I had a heart attack. I’m just so pleased that I was taking photos, and that I got this one at just the right second!

René was thinking of going cross country again if the conditions were good, so while he decided about it I sat on launch and watched the other pilots. Over time the wind got a bit lighter and the launchable windows became larger and larger. While I was there I saw Vít, and spent probably half an hour chatting to him – he was in the same boat as me, having decided not to fly but now thinking maybe to change his mind. It was very reassuring to talk with him in detail about the landing and certain particulars of the site, plus just to chat to someone about the differences between flying here vs New Zealand was very interesting and enjoyable. Eventually René called “Bye Bye” over the radio, meaning he was leaving for cross country and wouldn’t land at Javorový, and I decided to fly.

My launch was perfectly controlled and once in the air I felt much better than the day before. I quickly climbed high above the ridge and explored back and forth along it, even hopping to the next ridge on the left and then the next ridge after that. Although the conditions were almost identical, this flight couldn’t have been more different in feeling from the day before – I was back in the zone and really starting to feel comfortable soaring. So I hopped around, flew out into the valley and back again, and just generally had an amazing time. When I came in to land I planned my landing well and executed it perfectly, without a hint of fear. The difference was really tangible when reviewing the video footage taken from my helmet-mounted GoPro – during my landing on the first day I was just saying “no no no stop it, no stop” over and over again in the most fearful voice I’ve ever heard in my life, and alternating that with swearing loudly and angrily. The landing on the second day was silent and flawless. What’s more, I flew almost two hours – the longest I’ve ever stayed up in my life. I couldn’t feel my fingers by the time I landed but it was worth it! I wish I could share the videos here but unfortunately WordPress doesn’t allow you to do so without paying 😦

That evening I was as elated about my flight as René had been the day before. René was elated as well – he flew to Radhošť, over 40 km away. It’s one of the best cross country flights it’s possible to do from Javorový and he’d never done it before. We were a very happy pair that night! We’re both flying with variometers at the moment so when we get home we can download the tracklog and analyse our flights on the laptop – doing this is bringing us both a great deal of joy.

Saturday 20 April: Day 3 at Javorový

On Saturday we arrived early to the flight park to meet with René’s friend Šebi, with whom we hiked Lysa Hora the first time. He and René learnt to paraglide together, 10 years ago, but he hadn’t flown the past two years. We hiked up again – I ran into Vít and his girlfriend Anna on the landing and they very kindly took my glider with them on the chairlift, for which I was exceedingly grateful! There wasn’t so much prevailing wind as the previous two days, which made the launch easy but meant that neither Šebi nor I managed to stay up for too long. While flying I witnessed a fellow pilot have a large asymmetric collapse just a few metres above the trees, and before you could blink he’d vanished into them, with just a tiny bit of his blue wing still visible in the upper branches. René, in his usual fashion, went cross country. I went up for a second flight at around 2pm, and for the first time I took the chairlift! It’s ancient and fits just one person per chair, meaning the lift up is very quiet as no-one is talking. It was so peaceful to listen to the wind in the trees and the birds singing and the quiet clanking of the ancient machinery.

When I got to the top everyone was parawaiting – a helicopter was trying to fish the blue glider and its pilot out of the trees below launch. I was in a bit of a rush, as we were meant to be meeting friends for a BBQ mid-afternoon, so as soon as we were cleared for launch I went for it. It was a tough launch as I kept swinging to the left, and soon realised why – when I cleared the trees I looked up and realised I hadn’t done my line check properly, resulting in a large knot tying my left brake line and two of my left C-lines together and essentially crippling the glider on that side. I pulled sharply on the brake to try and clear it, almost sending myself into a spin, without success. So I beelined it to the landing as quickly as I could, compensating for the crippled left side with about as much right-side brake as I dared. I made it over the power lines just fine and but through carelessness managed to miss the landing field, touching down one paddock over. Such an embarrassing flight! And with my unusual wing I’m sure I’ll be recognised for it in future. When I told René he laughed and said that with his collapse the day previously, we surely made a good couple.

The BBQ was great fun – at the home of René’s friend Kuba and his fiancée Daša. They spent several years living in New Zealand and it was such a pleasure to talk to them about home. They’re an incredible couple – they went overland from Thailand to the Czech Republic, by bicycle! Fascinating people, excellent English skills and vegetarian – pretty much all I could ever want in companions. Kuba’s sister Verča was there too – she had lived with them in New Zealand and also met the above three criteria. The other friends and family members there spoke limited English but all seemed like lovely people. We had a marvelous time.

Daša was wearing a bone pendant that very obviously came from New Zealand, and she, Kuba and Verča were all wearing NZ brands Macpac and Mons Royale. It really felt like home!

Almost 3500 words, I’m exhausted. It’s after Easter now and I have so much to write about the past two days but I think I’ll have to take a bit of a break to recharge! René and I leave for Italy in 3 days and with any luck I’ll get it written up before then.

Happy days!

Oh boy am I behind! It’s Day 18 and I really need to sit down and do some writing but there’s just so much to do. Here’s a little bit from last week in the meantime 🙂

Friday 12 April: Černy Kocour

On Friday night, melancholic from the snow and a frustrating day of chores, we went to Černy Kocour (in English, The Black Cat) for a drink. This adorable pub is located in downtown Místek and is one of René’s favourite places. He used to work as the bartender here while he was at university and has endless stories of great times he had behind the bar. Sure enough, he was warmly greeted by just about every second person who walked through the door. As it turned out, his ex-girlfriend (who began bartending at Černy Kocour while they were together and now manages it) was having a party upstairs that night – she and her husband were both turning 30. We were invited up and had a fantastic time – I met so many interesting people who spoke English! Such a lovely change. Unfortunately I was too busy having a good time to take any photos but I’ll be sure to get some next time we’re there.

Saturday 13 April: Family afternoon tea

On Saturday, only slightly hungover, we had a lovely afternoon tea at René’s mum’s house. We had René and I, his mum (Silvia) and her partner (Pavel), and Babička and Dědeček with whom we’re staying, as well as Jiří and little Sebi – unfortunately Marika stayed at home with an illness. Silvia made several delicious frgáli, a traditional Czech pastry which is pretty much like a pizza made with sweet dough, and then instead of cheese and pepperoni and whatnot it’s pureed fruit and crumble. Very tasty! Silvia’s frgáli were made with pears and René and I each had four slices. Sebi had brought some cars for us all to play with (how thoughtful!) and we had a great time. Jiří reported that Sebi had been very excited to see René and I again but had to clarify with his dad that I was “Aunty Nina who’s really difficult to understand when she talks”. My heart just about melted! Sebi knows us as Strejda (Uncle) René and Teta (Aunty) Nina, which brings me a great deal of joy. And he still hasn’t figured out that I don’t speak Czech!

Sunday 14 April: Hiking Prašiva

To make up for all the frgál on Saturday, we went for a good long hike on Sunday, starting with the closest mountain to Babička’s house, Prašiva. It’s popular for paragliding and René was one of the pilots who helped popularise it – he was the first pilot to fly from the southern launch, first instructor to instruct from that launch, and the first instructor whose student got stuck in a tree below that launch! Oops!

Just uphill from the paragliding launches, on the summit, is a little chapel from the 17th century. Unfortunately you can’t go inside as it’s only used for weddings nowadays but I still enjoyed looking around the outside. After summiting Prašiva (if you can really call it that – it’s not very big) we walked along the ridge behind it to the next peak, then the peak behind that one, then down to the valley, and all the way home – about 20km all up.

On the way home we stopped by at the Večerka. Večer means “evening” in Czech and so the Večerka is technically speaking the evening shop. It’s basically the closest you’ll find to a NZ dairy in Czech. As well as selling the usual bread, milk, lollies and assorted odds and ends, it also sells meats and cheeses and plenty of alcohol, including wine on tap! We got one of our empty water bottles filled with red wine for 70Kč (that’s NZD$4.50 for a litre!) and took it home with us.

And we enjoyed the wine very greatly after dinner with our aching feet up on chairs.

Monday 15 April: Exploring Ostrava

On Monday afternoon we went to explore Ostrava, about 20km from Frýdek-Místek. René attended university there so navigated us easily to the town square. To my absolute delight there was an Easter market in full swing selling all the traditional foods and decorations, plus plenty of other interesting things. Easter is the most important holiday in the Czech calendar, and one that I’ve been looking forward to for several months. I was in absolute raptures over the whole affair.

René and I bought some delicious marzipan candies (again, very traditional!) and ate them as we wandered around the market. Easter in Czech is a celebration of the beginning of spring and everything is bright and colourful. The atmosphere was unlike anything you’ll ever come across in New Zealand and I absolutely adored it.

Eventually René managed to pull me away from the market so we could meet Jiří (from the tearoom, not René’s brother) and his girlfriend Nice and go with them to Ostrava Zoo. Entry was just NZD$8 and it was definitely worth it! They have a wonderful collection of big cats and you’re able to get much closer to them than at New Zealand zoos – I was within about a metre of each of them and when they looked at me I would get a thrill of fear.

We spent a lot of time looking at the lion and lioness. Just after we’d moved on from them we heard the most incredible roaring coming from their enclosure. René and I both raced back but by the time we got there it had finished and we weren’t sure what had caused it – we’d thought maybe a fight, but there was no sign of it. We waited a couple more minutes, watching the lion pace, and then were about to leave when he did it again. Deep, wild, deafening, brutal roars ripped out of his throat. He was about three or four metres from us and I could feel the air vibrate around me with the sound. It lasted maybe a minute and I was just transfixed by him. Eventually the roars diminished to growls and then to silence. I was in absolute awe. To witness such an incredible display was absolutely the highlight of the trip.

But there was still plenty more to see!

Zoos always make me sad because I don’t think it’s right for animals to be kept in the conditions that zoos often keep them in. They make me think of one of the most thoughtful comic strips I’ve ever seen, from Calvin & Hobbes:

Ostrava Zoo was no exception and many of its enclosures were too small. However, one thing I did really like is that probably 80% of the signs in the zoo are about environmental issues – palm oil, deforestation, habitat destruction, the environmental impact of meat and dairy farming, and similar. Jiří pointed out that a lot of people wouldn’t care about these kinds of issues or indeed these animals without something like a zoo where they can interact with them firsthand, which I think is sad but true. His comments have changed my perception of zoos. I think they’re a necessary evil.

After the zoo we went to Jiří and Nice’s favourite Ostrava tearoom, called Čajovna na Rynku. Čajovna means tearoom and René likes this tearoom as well because Rynku sounds like Renku, which is his name when he’s addressed in Czech (the vocative case, for any language nerds reading!). We had a great time smoking, drinking tea and playing a Czech board game called “Člověče, nezlob se” (which means Man, Don’t Be Mad!), which is pretty much identical to the game Ludo that I used to play as a kid. Just like when I was a kid, I lost miserably. But it was a lot of fun!

It was a great day all round.

Coming soon: our second trip up Lysa Hora and my first flight in Europe! Plus it’s Easter Weekend now so I’m looking forward to writing about that. Stay tuned!

 

Today marks the end of our first week in Czech Republic! For the most part we’ve just been busy with chores but there have been a few interesting points in amongst them.

Sunday 7 April: Walking up Lysa Hora

We woke up early on Sunday morning to climb Lysa Hora. This beautiful mountain is the highest peak in the Czech part of the Beskydy mountain range and we would be walking it with two of René’s oldest friends, Dan and Honza (known as Šebi). The beginning of the walk is only about 15 minutes drive from Babička’s house and it was a cold, fresh morning. Most of the walk is through a lovely pine forest, and although we have plenty of pines in NZ they felt quite different here.

Šebi had said there’d probably be a bit of snow on the top and he wasn’t wrong! We spent a lot of time slipping and sliding our way up it and the snow amongst the pines made me want to go tree skiing.

We got to the top around 10:30, out of breath, wet on the knees from falling, but elated to see the view. There are a couple of buildings at the top – a radio transmissions building originally used to relay news between the Czech Republic and Russia during the days before the iron curtain fell, and also a very large pub. Typical Czechs!

Sunday 7 April: Meeting René’s brother, sister-in-law and nephew

We had to run down Lysa Hora so that we wouldn’t be late for lunch with René’s brother Jiří – if only we could have flown! Jiří lives with his fiancée Marika and their three-year-old son Sebastián, known to all as Sebi. Jiří’s English is excellent thanks to his job with Verizon, and it was pleasure to be included in the conversation for a change! We had a lovely pasta dish for lunch and then sat outside in the sunshine drinking coffee and eating cake. Jiří and Marika recently built their own house and they have a lovely big backyard for Sebi to play in. He wanted to play with René and I in turn and didn’t seem to notice that I didn’t speak a word of Czech. At first I was uncomfortable because I’m hardly ever around children and I find them challenging enough to interact with when we speak the same language! But after a while I loosened up. We played a bit of football and then spent a lot of time putting all Sebi’s toy cars on top of his slide and then pushing them all down.

Jiří was so happy to see his brother and his son playing together. It had occurred to me that it must be tough for René’s family for him to be so far away, but to see firsthand how much they miss him was saddening for me.

After a while Sebi started to become confused as to why I wasn’t answering his questions, so René spent some time trying to explain to him that I didn’t speak Czech. He couldn’t understand the concept, which I found fascinating! But in the end, when he kept asking me to come with him so we could play with the car set in his bedroom and I kept on looking at him blankly, he just took me by the hand and led me to his room to show me. While we were playing (the game was how many cars can we slide down the ramp at once – I see a pattern!) he said something, and Marika translated that he said he liked me very much. I was so touched. They’re a charming family and I’m looking forward to seeing them again – Jiří has invited us to stay for Easter as well, and I can’t wait!

Monday 8 April: Visiting Jiří’s tearoom

On Monday evening we drove to Nový Jičín, about half an hour away, to meet with René’s friend Jiří. If there’s one thing I dislike about Czechs, it’s the frequency with which they recycle names! I personally know four Jiřís, three Honzas and two Marikas, and it gets very confusing. But just one René, thank goodness! If you ever watch a Czech movie, pay attention to the credits – I swear, it’s just 10 male names and 10 female names over and over again.

Anyway, this particular Jiří owns a tearoom, which is usually closed on Mondays but he opened it specially for us. This is not at all like the British tearoom you’re probably thinking of! The Czech tearoom concept is an amalgamation of Arabic, east Asian, and north African traditions. The result is a denlike space – Jiří’s is built in a cellar – with no ventilation whatsoever, where people gather to drink specialty teas from around the world and smoke shisha.

I hadn’t come across shisha before I met René – it’s also known as a hookah, and when I smoke it I feel like the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland, in a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke. Flavoured tobacco is put into a kind of bowl at the top, which is covered in tinfoil and punctured with a needle. Hot coals are put on top of the tinfoil, and you suck the smoke through a large chamber of water at the bottom and out of a long bendy hose. It feels a lot like using a weak vaporiser (probably due to shisha tobacco containing roughly 30% of the amount of nicotine of standard cigarette tobacco) and is less harmful than smoking cigarettes because you’re not burning paper or glue like you do with cigarettes. Also it tastes delicious. For reference, this is what it looks like:

And it made me feel like this guy:

Only not as creepy-looking.

So we sat and drank tea and smoked shisha with Jiří and his delightful Romanian girlfriend, Nice (pronounced like Nietzsche). I liked them because they also communicate in English – the first couple I’ve met that are like René and I. We spent many hours with them and then retired to our van – our first night in it! I slept like a rock, although René complained that the bed was too short. I think the answer is sleeping diagonally.

Friday 12 April: Snow!

It’s been cold and grey the last few days, causing me to get quite melancholic at about 4pm daily, and it’s been getting colder and greyer every day. And today it’s snowing! René says it feels more like Christmas than Easter. I keep laughing about the fact that we travelled literally halfway around the world to escape the cold and it’s colder here than at home.

But at least we’ll appreciate the summer when it comes!

That’s all for now. It’s Easter coming up this weekend, arguably the most important Czech holiday, so I’ll have plenty to write about after that!

Neither René nor I slept very well at the garden house – the jetlag had us up at about 5am. This actually worked out pretty well as we were meant to be meeting Hannes at 7 sharp to head to the transport bureau. The queues are so terrible that it’s worth getting up this early; by the time we arrived at 7:20am there was already 10 people in front of us. We got our forms checked by the first transport bureaucrat, and got our appointment time for the second transport bureaucrat – they make appointments on the day only but even at that early time they were already booked solid until 9:30. We killed some time drinking coffee downstairs and getting to know Hannes better – he’s a very interesting man.

Eventually we met with the second transport bureaucrat, got our forms stamped, then went to the license plate shop and got our transport plates. Hannes told us that the man behind the counter was amazed that we were back so soon – that’s when we found out that most people take all day to navigate the bureaucracy of selling a car. Ridiculous! Anyway, we fitted the transport plates to our new van, took photos, shook hands one last time, and then she was finally ours. It was 11:30am and we finally hit the road, bound for the Czech Republic.

The shortest route from Berlin to René’s home in Frýdek-Místek – the far east of the Czech Republic – is through Poland. Crossing the border was exciting for me, although there was only one little sign publicising the fact that we were entering a new country. I’d never crossed a land border before and it was about as much of a let-down as you would imagine when you’re driving 140kmh on the highway and there’s just a sign saying “Poland 1km” and then nothing else.

Nina: “Are we in Poland now?”
René: “I guess so?”
Nina: “Where was the sign for crossing the border?”
René: *shrugs*

I was just enjoying the novelty of having crossed my first ever land border when we hit the first real stretch of Polish road. The German autobahn is famously well-kept; not so for the Polish highway it turns into. In the sixties the Polish government, eternally strapped for cash, laid down a bunch of concrete slabs and decided that that’d probably do it. 50 years later and there are cracks in the road big enough to put your fist into. We slowed down to 90 and our voices were still shaking uncontrollably with the bumping. René kept saying that this was so typically Polish. What I found most amusing about the whole situation was that the highway going in the other direction was brand new and flawlessly smooth – this opened the door for a lot of jokes about Polish immigration. Even on a road of such appalling quality, we were being passed by cars doing at least 150kmh. I dread to think of the state of their suspension.

Finally the concrete slab road gave way to smooth highway. Seeing a signpost for a bathroom at the next exit we left the highway, only to realise that no such bathroom existed, and also that no on-ramp existed. There was a police officer nearby, and René stopped the car to ask him how to get back onto the highway. I watched the conversation through the window until he got back in and restarted the engine. “You speak Polish?”, I asked. René was silent for a moment. Then, “Honestly, I like to think I speak Polish but really it’s more like Czech with an accent.” I couldn’t stop laughing. All I could think of was myself going up to a French person and speaking English with an outrageous French accent, and thinking to myself privately, “Ouiii, my Frrrench ees so gooood.”

After finding our way back onto the motorway we promptly hit a traffic jam. We moved at about 5kmh for an hour and a half and René kept saying he’d forgotten what European traffic was like. But eventually we got past the obstruction (a truck had a flat tyre and was blocking a lane) and an hour or so later we hit the Czech border. I was so excited to see the signs change language from Polish to Czech, and when I saw the sign for Frýdek-Místek I cheered out loud. I’ve spent the last year and a quarter being told about René’s hometown and finally we were arriving. I couldn’t wait to meet all the people and see all the places I’d been told about.

During our time in eastern Czech we’re staying at René’s grandparents’ house in Vyšni Lhoty, a tiny village about 15 minutes from Frýdek-Místek (a town of roughly 60,000). We arrived there at about 8. René was elated to see his grandparents, with whom he used to live and thus is very close to; I managed to choke out a mispronounced “Ahoj Babička, ahoj Dědecku, ja jsem Nina, těši mě”. No-one over the age of about 40 speaks English in the Czech Republic; they grew up under the communist regime and Russian, not English, was taught in schools. But despite the language barrier René’s grandparents and I are managing alright.

That first night we had beer, wine, blackberry tea, and lovely pumpkin soup with fresh bread. We’ve been in Czech four days now and every meal I’ve had here bar one has been soup; as René says, “We’re a soup nation”. But everything is delicious and everyone offers you third and fourth helpings. After dinner we went up to René’s old bedroom and fell asleep instantly. Thus ended day 3.

We touched down at Berlin Tegel Airport slightly ahead of schedule. The trees are still leafless here, although tiny pale buds are growing. It’s springtime; the early morning air was chilly as we disembarked. Buses took us to the main terminal, where René entered the queue for EU citizen immigration and I entered the queue for everyone else. I remembered going through US immigration when I was 17 – my mother and I spent several minutes answering questions about our travel plans and intentions for the trip. German immigration is nothing like that! I was asked if I was here to study, to which I replied no, to holiday. And he stamped my passport and just like that, I’m in Germany.

René, Anna and I waited for our bags together. Each of our checked bags was at least twice the size of the others on the carousel and when we piled them all onto one trolley we got congratulations from some nearby travellers. Leaving the control zone, barely able to push our 90kg trolley, we bade a fond farewell to Anna and made our way to the bus terminal.

One bus and one metro ride later we arrived at Platz der Luftbrücke, near Lola’s house. She came to meet us by bike and we walked the 10 minutes back to her five-storey apartment building, where she lives with her mother and brother. By the time we arrived at their apartment on the top floor, I think both René and I were somewhat regretting taking up a sport which led to us each carrying 45kg of luggage on our backs! These apartment buildings seem to be very common – in this neighbourhood there are street after street of them, all at least four storeys tall and many with beautiful facades dating back to the 1900s. I was really struck by the otherness of these buildings – we don’t really have anything like them in NZ. It was while we were walking through the Berlin streets and I was staring, jetlagged out of my mind, up at these apartments that I had two realisations. The first was that we were really here – that wonderful realisation that I think always comes in the first few hours of being in a new country, when the weight of it sinks into you and it feels so real. The second realisation was that we were really here, which meant that Europe wasn’t this mythical place like it had always seemed to me, but just another part of the world, with countries like any other. I guess I had always known this deep down, but I think that because Europe is so incredibly different from New Zealand we tend to almost mythologise it. There was a kind of sadness to this realisation, or maybe a bittersweetness – like opening the door to Narnia and just finding a closet full of old fur coats.

Lola is the most hospitable and kind host we could ever have wished for – exactly who we needed when we were so jetlagged we could hardly string sentences together. We showered while she went to the bakery for fresh buns, then enjoyed a delicious breakfast together with bread, hummus, cherry tomatoes and about four different kinds of homemade fruit preserves. With clean skin, clean clothes and full stomachs we felt like new people, and were ready to take on Berlin using the city’s superb public transport network. There’s an underground (called the Metro), buses, and trams here and everything seems to work like clockwork. What amazes me is that your ticket isn’t checked when you enter the Metro station or when you board the bus; instead there are just random checks on people and apparently you can go weeks without having your ticket checked. So trusting! René and I bought whole-day passes for public transport regardless and set out to see the sights.

We saw just about everything it’s possible to see in a four-hour window – the Brandenburg gate, the Berlin Cathedral, and the Reichstag among them. I was expecting everything here to be so old but instead it’s all just so big – for instance the Berlin Cathedral began construction in 1893 so the architectural style is one that I’ve seen on many of the old buildings in New Zealand, only the building is about four times as big as any I’ve seen. Of course a lot of it is old as well – one of the first buildings we saw was an enormous cathedral which had been mostly destroyed in World War II, leaving just part of the spire intact. It has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the war which changed world history.

Near the Brandenburg gate was a man playing a street organ – an instrument I’d never encountered in real life before – while his beautiful parrot played on a stand next to him. I was extremely excited to see that despite being ethnically European-looking he had what appeared to be ta moko tattoos on his face, and thought that perhaps I could be about to meet my first Kiwi overseas. Very sadly he turned out to be Slovakian and had never been to New Zealand, which really just made me angry over the cultural appropriation of extremely sacred tattoos.

Anyway, he and René chatted away in some Czech/Slovakian language hybrid and I watched his beautiful parrot for a while. There was something about it that made me really aware that birds are descended from dinosaurs. The look in its eye reminded me of a feathery T-Rex.

Eventually we were so tired that we really had no choice but to head back to Lola’s place. We took a quick nap, after which I was somehow even more tired than I had been before, and when we woke up Lola’s mother, Sabine, had arrived. She was just as lovely as her daughter and showed me a newspaper clipping from the Berliner Morgenpost about Jacinda Ardern and her handling of the recent Christchurch terror attack, telling me in limited English how much she liked her and what an amazing example she’s setting for the world. Soon she went out for her choir rehearsal, and Lola, René and I spent the evening drinking Italian wine and eating real French camembert. Everything is cheaper here than NZ, especially alcohol – €2 (NZD$3.20) for a bottle of wine is pretty common and you can get a 1 litre bottle of name brand liquor for about NZD$20 – less than half the cost of home. I didn’t realise we were so expensive! We went to bed at a reasonable hour and slept like rocks until about 9:30 the next morning.

The next day we intended to buy a converter for our NZ appliances – our laptop and speaker and my camera all have NZ plugs, and somehow it slipped both of our minds that we ought to buy one before we left home. It was particularly important to me as I abhor writing on my phone for any length of time, and I’m seeing and doing so many exciting things at the moment I feel like I’ll explode if I don’t get them written down. But then we got a bit sidetracked looking at campervans – René and I had intended to buy one when we got to Czech but then realised that the market in Germany is pretty significantly better. I was looking through the listings mid-morning and found, among many other viable options, an already-converted 2007 Ford Transit. Two hours later we were meeting with Hannes, a very nice German man in his mid-30’s with (mercifully for both René and I) good English. The van was beautiful and perfect in every way, except for a bit of rust on the chassis and body. Our budget was €6000; the asking price was €3900; René offered €3300 and Hannes shook on it.

Unfortunately for everyone who has ever or will ever go to Germany, the bureaucracy there is absolutely insane. Just before we left for Europe we sold René’s car – it took one phone call and then the buyer had to go to the post office, show his ID and pay $9. Not so in Germany! First the old license plates had to be handed in, then we had to apply for new license plates at the license plate shop, then meet with a transport bureaucrat to ensure we had the seven billion necessary forms filled out, then get an appointment time for another transport bureaucrat to check that the forms are filled out correctly and get them stamped, then pay the bureaucracy fee, then go back to the license plate shop to show them the stamped forms, then pay the license plate fee, and then get the new transit plates. All of this could definitely not be done in an afternoon – apparently it usually takes about 12 hours all up! And we were in a bit of a situation as we had planned to go to Prague that evening and couldn’t stay with Lola another night. Luckily Hannes and his wife own a summer house in another part of Berlin – very similar to the NZ bach idea, these little houses are super tiny, super basic and super cute, for use just on warm summer weekends – and he offered us this adorable cottage to stay the night so that we could get up early the next morning to begin our battle with bureaucracy. So we spent a unexpected and beautiful spring evening in the backyard of a Berlin garden house, sitting on a swinging bench, drinking red wine and watching the sun set. It was just perfect.

That’s enough for tonight! We didn’t end up getting the converter for the laptop plug until day 5, which is why I’m a bit behind on my blog posting. Coming soon: our battle with German bureaucracy, our battle with Polish roads, and probably numerous other battles. Stay tuned!

Everything’s blurring together. I’m writing this from roughly 12,000 metres above somewhere in Europe and I can’t even recall where I left off with my last post. So I guess it makes sense to start at the airport.

Honza very kindly gave us a lift to the airport on his way to work. We arrived several hours early, which suited us fine – we hadn’t had the chance to weigh our luggage and were certain that some repacking would be required to keep it all within the necessary limits. 2 full repacks later and we managed to get all the weight spread out to the right bags so that each would either comply with the weight requirement or be unlikely to be checked. Somehow, miraculously, we got through the system with 15kg of luggage more than we were allowed, without paying an extra cent.

After we cleared security we wandered around the departure lounge for a while. René bought some last minute souvenirs and then, to kill some time, we played a bit of acroyoga in an out-of-the-way corner. There was one other person there, a red-headed woman about our age, who was untroubled by our antics on the condition that we didn’t mind her watching us go through our paces.

Our flight to Singapore was with Singapore Airlines, and I’ve never been so spoilt in my life. Hot towels just after takeoff, two delicious vegetarian meals each, free snacks whenever we wanted them, and unlimited drinks service – there was a man a couple of rows in front of us drinking glass after glass of scotch whiskey on the house, but René and I opted for red wine. We also had unlimited access to the latest movies, TV shows, podcasts, music, and games. Through some incredible coincidence, the red-headed girl from the departure lounge was sitting next to us. Her name was Anna, from Germany, and through another amazing coincidence she would be on the flight to Berlin with us as well. The three of us spent the 11 hour flight chatting, drinking, watching movies and playing poker.

We landed in Singapore at 5:30pm local time – 10:30pm at home, so we were already pretty sleepy. However, Singapore Airlines offers a free bus tour of Singapore to those stopping over for a few hours, so the three of us decided to do that – at least until we got into the terminal and realised it was fully booked. Instead we spent the 6 hour stopover wandering around the terminals. Changi International Airport is bigger than a modestly sized city, or at least it seems that way – there are four terminals, each so large and so far from the others that trains run between them. We saw the Butterfly Garden and the Cactus Garden and spent a solid hour looking for a taco stand that René went to the last time he was there, only to finally concede defeat. Every terminal has identical decor and identical shops lining the identical walls, and in our sleep-deprived states it was impossible to navigate. We ended up finding a free foosball table and had a good time playing – with René versus Anna and I we were almost evenly matched. We also did some more acroyoga to stretch out after the flight, and taught the basics to Anna as well!

By the time we boarded the flight to Berlin it was 4:30am in New Zealand. René napped in the terminal and I was pretty close to it as well. Our flight this time was with Scoot, the low-budget carrier run by Singapore Airlines. Their planes are definitely less comfortable – no screens and the food was by no means up to the Singapore Airlines standard, but that being said we’re still travelling at 900kmh across the earth so we can’t really complain too much. We were asleep before the plane left the tarmac, only to be woken up 10 minutes later for a meal.

Ultimately I managed about 5 hours before my circadian rhythm told me it was time to wake up. Once up, I had the very great pleasure of watching the earth pass beneath us in the darkness. We flew over colossal cities, illuminated with orange streetlamps and often with blue lights that looked almost bioluminescent. With no screens to tell us where the plane was located, I ended up asking one of the flight attendants, who told me we were flying over Iran. It was amazing to see the strange cities beside strange dark patches of inky ocean or lake, watched over by a starscape that was to me totally unfamiliar.

The sunrise was stunning – the slowest I’ve ever seen in my life, as it chased us around the globe for at least an hour. When it finally caught us it was magnificent.

We’re getting close to landing in Berlin now – just an hour or so to go. From there we need to find our way via public transport to the house of a friend of a friend, Lola. We intend to shower, leave our things, and then go to explore Berlin, although the way I’m feeling I think I’ll need to schedule a nap in there somewhere. The sky is bright outside now and I’m so excited for my first day in Europe.

Packing up a life is harder than one might expect.

It took weeks of planning and countless sleepless nights to make the necessary arrangements. Knick-knacks, books and winter clothes I would take with me to Wellington by suitcase, ski gear and blankets would be left with a family friend so Dad could take them back to Wellington with him after the winter. 10 boxes, 2 bags, 2 bikes and a large TV would be left in Queenstown with a friend of ours, whose father had plenty of space under the house; a couple of gliders would be left with friends in Christchurch and the car would be left with my cousins. 4 boxes of possessions and food were given away to friends at our leaving party, and then the remainder was stuffed into backpacks and boxes and carefully wedged into the car. And after all those weeks of planning and organising and dreaming of Europe, we were on our way.

Our first stop was Mount Cook. Neither René nor I had ever been there and I knew there was a DOC campground nestled under the mountain. We arrived just as the sun was setting but even in the dim light the mountains surrounding us were spectacular. We were in the shadow of the Tuckett Glacier, millions of tonnes of ice clinging to the sheer southern face of Mt Sefton.

We watched the surrounding mountains darken as the sun set, although the peaks stayed illuminated long after the valley was in shadow. As the day turned to night hundreds of thousands of stars appeared, splashing the Milky Way across the sky like we’d never seen it before, thanks to the area being an international dark sky reserve. We slept in the car to avoid the katabatic winds falling from the glacier and awoke the next morning slightly under-rested but toasty warm.

We set off early the next morning, with the hope of flying Mount Cheeseman in the Canterbury Alps. It was a longer drive than we had anticipated, but after several hours of beautiful scenery we arrived in the Craigieburn Forest Park. A 12km gravel road took us to the carpark of the Cheeseman ski area. I have always thought that Queenstown’s Coronet Peak had the best view of any ski area in the world, but Cheeseman gives it a run for its money.

As soon as we got out of the car we knew we had no hope of flying – violent gusts were rushing down the hill and paragliders are almost impossible to launch even in a very slight tailwind. Instead we decided to climb from the carpark to the summit of Mount Cockayne. The wind was even more ferocious up there but the views made it well worth it.

We slept that night in the Cheeseman carpark. The wind rocked the car and we both woke up concerned that our belongings, in a tent a little way off, might fly away in the gusts. Eventually the stress was too much so we drove to the tent and parked downwind of it, just in case, and then went back to bed.

We woke up early the next morning to watch the sunrise. It didn’t disappoint!

Eager to escape the wind, we breakfasted quickly then hit the road Christchurch-bound. Two hours later we were in the metropolis, cursing at traffic and asking ourselves how anyone could live in this city with too many cars and not nearly enough mountains. My sense of direction is generally good but the lack of natural landmarks in Christchurch always spins me around and I end up feeling both agoraphobic from the flatness and claustrophobic from all the people. It was a relief to arrive at the home of our friends, Honza and Tereza, a lovely couple whom René knew from the Czech Republic and whom I’ve met numerous times over the past year. They took us for a drive to Akaroa in the afternoon, on the very tip of the Banks Peninsula. The Akaroa harbour was once the crater of an enormous supervolcano, and it was amazing to imagine the power that such a volcano would have had.

We were lucky enough, once in Akaroa, to stumble upon a car show. The four of us jumped the fence and were soon picking out which cars we’d like, if we could have chosen any. I chose a 1911 Ford Model T, but later decided that a Corvette Stingray was more my style. René was stuck deciding between a red Ferrari or a silver Aston Martin. In the end it didn’t matter because we probably won’t make enough in a lifetime to afford any of them and even if we did, luxury cars would not be our investment of choice. Still fun to daydream though!

The evening was spent drinking Czech liquor and laughing a lot. The next day was spent running around like mad trying to make the final arrangements before leaving. I got my international driving permit, René bought some souvenirs, and we picked up a couple of other bits and bobs to make the flight more comfortable. We also dropped in on my cousin Lynda, who has very kindly taken our car for the next 6 months while we’re gone. René was in raptures with her 3 farm dogs and we met the pet sheep, Larry and Lola. We also got to see Lynda’s new helicopter! Her daughter Molly, who has been my friend since childhood, dropped by in the last few minutes; then Lynda gave us a lift back to Tereza and Honza’s house and the final item on the to-do list was checked off.

It’s now 9:20am. René and I are sitting in Christchurch Airport with bags that are far too heavy, using up the last of my phone data before I cancel my contract. Check-in has opened but as the plane doesn’t leave for a few hours we’re in no huge rush. We fly from here to Singapore (11 hours), then have a 6 hour stopover to grab some dinner and stretch our legs, then 13 hours from Singapore to Berlin, landing at 7am local time. I’m mentally preparing myself for the jetlag. But in 48 hours time we’ll be in Europe, all things going to plan! Touch wood.

It’s a weird sort of a day today. For one thing the Wellington weather is drizzly but bright, the thick mist lending the city a surreal glow. And for another, it’s a long-awaited day, and those days always seem strange to me when they finally arrive.

I’m in Wellington to visit the German Embassy, in the hopes that they’ll grant me a Working Holiday visa. After a lot of research, I decided this was the easiest and most cost-effective way I could stay in the Schengen area for more than the designated 3 months allowed by the tourist visa. Even including the flights, the cost has come to less than $300. There’s an added bonus to flying up here so close to my departure from New Zealand – I’ve been able to bring over 30kg of books, knick-knacks and winter clothes that I won’t be needing while René and I chase summers.

My documents and passport are laid out on the desk; the outfit I’ve carefully chosen for the appointment is arranged on the couch. I consider ironing the blouse, but as it has no obvious wrinkles decide that it’s probably not necessary. To try and assuage my jangling nerves, I bring up the German Embassy’s website on my phone. I had gone through the checklist of forms, official documents, and proofs of bank accounts and insurance required for the Working Holiday visa just two days previously, and I knew I had everything in order, but maybe going through it again, marking each item off the list, would make me feel a little more certain that my visa would be approved.

I open the document, and a jolt of complete horror goes through me. Where it used to say “Updated September 2018” it now proclaims March 2019, and the list looks a bit different. Most of it is the same, but where it used to require proof of €750 Euros in NZD, it now requires proof of €2000. I only have $3300 and as far as I can remember the Euro is worth almost twice the New Zealand Dollar. Hardly breathing, feeling as though my stomach has dropped out of my body and through the floor, I put the conversion into Google. I’m in the clear, but only just – by about €100. Thankfully, the previous requirement of having either a return ticket or a one-way ticket with an additional €1000 (to buy a return ticket later), has been replaced with a simple requirement to present evidence of either a return or a one-way ticket. I’m still uneasy but there’s nothing I can do to make my case more compelling at this stage – there’s just an hour to go until my appointment.

I leave home early, driving to Mum’s work to pick up a printed confirmation of my appointment just in case I need it – mobile phones aren’t permitted to be used inside the Embassy grounds. A few minutes and one very shoddy parallel park later, I’m standing opposite the Embassy building on Hobson Street. It’s classic 70’s architecture, all aluminium framed windows and large sections made from what appears to be opaque brown glass, and surrounded by an imposing looking fence. I’m early, and the appointment confirmation says I won’t be allowed into the Embassy until 5 minutes before my stated appointment time. After several minutes of dawdling on the sidewalk across the road a security guard approaches the fence, and after a short conversation tells me to ring the bell and come in. I’m buzzed through the impressive looking gate, then through the equally impressive looking front door, where a man in a kiosk behind what looks like bulletproof glass directs me through a third door to an empty waiting area.

I sit in silence for several minutes. Usually I’d use my phone to distract myself, but there are big signs throughout the waiting room proclaiming the Embassy’s strict no-mobiles policy. There are no books, no magazines, just half a dozen plain black chairs in an orderly row facing towards another kiosk protected by thick glass. There’s a noticeboard at one end but all the notices are in German and there are no translations offered. One of the notices is about the Embassy’s requirements for a proper biometric photo. I compare the photo I’ve brought to the examples shown and am just deciding that my head doesn’t make up the proper proportion of space when a man enters the kiosk.

I have all sorts of answers ready for the questions he’s going to ask – why do I want to go to Germany? What are my plans once I get there? – but he doesn’t ask any of them. I put my documents in an opening on the desk which he slides to his side of the thick glass window, and he tells me to take a seat. After a couple of minutes he asks me to scan my fingerprints using a device on the desk, then he thanks me and says a decision should be reached within a week. A buzzer sounds and the door back to the lobby opens; collecting my things I thank him and leave. The door closes; another buzzer, and the main door opens. The security guard escorts me for the 10 metre walk towards the street. The third buzzer, and I’m back on Hobson Street as the gate closes with a metallic finality behind me. It’s 9:45, just 5 minutes into my 20 minute appointment slot. Although I wanted it to be a simple appointment, it was over so quickly that I’m momentarily slightly stunned. All that build-up, all the planning and printing and getting documents certified by lawyers, for a 5 minute appointment.

It’s hot and humid and the mist is still shimmering when I reach the car. As I pull away from the kerb I notice a rainbow shining against the hill. I think it’s a good omen.