Stories From The Road: Slow Travel New Zealand

Christmas Day

On Christmas morning, Santa put boogie boards under the “tree” and mangoes in the hand-stitched felt stockings. At that southern latitude, December 25 dawned a perfect, summer beach day. Lyall Bay, visible from our Airbnb past red flowering bushes and verdant Pungas, New Zealand’s iconic fern trees, was uncharacteristically calm. Cook Strait’s currents seemed to be taking a holiday, too. Midway through our ten-week rental and slow travel experience in New Zealnd, we had begun to know the ebb and flow of the natural world within the capital city. 

But before we began our day, we curled up next to each other on the patio adjacent to massive succulents with some holiday picture books from the library, played with a new card game, licked some candy canes, and got ready to care for the animals. 

Lucy brought two homemade Christmas cookies and the salad trimmings from last night out the side door and called over the fence, “Clover! Parsley! Merry Christmas.”

Our neighbors’ two goats trotted over, rested their hooves on the fence railing, and ate from her hand. Lucy found that spot on their forehead where they loved a good rub.

What is Slow Travel?

After being on the move for the first four months of our Wonder Year, it felt nice to hunker down. We were doing what is known as “slow travel,” setting our roots as deep as they could go with our three month visa. The kids joined sports teams and summer camps; I found yoga classes; Will made friends with the barber. Slow travel is not as riveting day-to-day, but it offers other rewards. Our new, local friends were mostly off camping or visiting family for the holiday, and it felt satisfying to be the ones staying back and supporting others’ travels. 

“C’mon guys, Louis’ cat’s gotta be hungry!” encouraged Kai. Kai had met Louis at the park and asked for a play date. Our families then shared meals and became the kind of friends who trade spare keys and visit each other’s cat on Christmas Day. 

Later, we went to a white elephant party at a croquet club in the north of Wellington. I never knew croquet took itself so seriously. It was a holiday tradition, apparently, to do a share meal (potluck), eat pavlova (a holiday staple like our pumpkin pie), drink champagne from the chilly bin (cooler) and whack balls through wickets. I could really adopt these traditions, I thought. The party also gave us a day spent with mixed generations, something I realized I had been missing. On the road, we easily connected with families whose kids were roughly the same ages as ours. But the older set was not so accessible. To be invited and taken in by this multi-generational gathering was kind, heartwarming, and so symbolic of Christmas. 

Enjoying the Moment

Back at our rental, after the effects of pavlova and champagne had worn off, we used the shortcut through the woods to take our Airbnb hosts’ dog, Max, for a walk. One more animal to love. From the crest of the steep hill, we looked down one side to the Maranui, the beach club where Lorna was on the Surf Life Rescue team, while off in the other direction the grocery store, and far beyond that the tidepools near the penguin crossings. For us, for that moment, we could miss our animals and family, while knowing the world was offering those very things we needed. We paused to relish a whiff of home.