When the days grow long, the weather warms and the pohutukawas start to flower, there is a certain phenomena that begins to grow in the minds of New Zealanders. It's a primal urge built in after years of school holidays and long, lazy hours in the sun - burned into you, you might say.
It's the subject of corny television commercials. An itch that has to be scratched, least you go mad. A cultural, nay, spiritual institution. Something that, for all their charms, Wellington and London just can't provide.
The Great Kiwi Summer.
Growing up in the second-sunniest part of New Zealand, one of the few things I dislike about both London and Wellington is that a sustained spell of hot, fine weather is rarer (and as precious) than Black Caps wins over Australia. Fortunately Lauren and I have had plenty of opportunities to get out of the city and enjoy the fabled Great Kiwi Summer. Here, for me, are its components.
|Fatty fish (Grand Central Fry, Turangi, home of the world's best fishburgers)|
|Cricket (New Plymouth)|
|Road trips to the coast (Himatangi Beach, with Erica and Sarah)|
|Back to nature (Bark Bay, Abel Tasman National Park, with Richard and Louise)|