The Lost Writings

September 7, 2008 - Christchurch, New Zealand

The last few days have felt so cold. I can’t tell if it’s because of my sudden departure from a sweltering Seoul summer or the fact that I haven’t packed properly for this weather, or a combination of the two. We left Kaikoura yesterday afternoon; it rained all day Friday and it was miserably cold. I took 2 hot showers in an attempt to warm up, but neither worked very well for very long.

It was funny just how miserable I was all day. All my clothes were wet which added to the cold misery. It rained all day which made the 2K walk back to the city an impossibility. And so there I was, stranded – wet, cold and hungry.

Out the windows was the harbor, a surprisingly aqua color in the midst of the bleak rain. It was one of those days where houses, roads and people alike appeared grey and dismal. And yet – the sea. Her color could not be dulled.

It’s on days like this that I get the urge to fly. Not because I want to escape the miserable weather, but because I know that somewhere up there, it’s a beautiful day, and I’m aching to go find it. When I was younger (and I must admit that I still do now), I felt superhuman, escaping the confines of atmospheric sadness to sail high above to a place where the sun was always shining. The sun is always shining, you know, whether or not you can perceive it.

The next day I got up early in the morning to schedule my bus ticket. I happened to glance out the window as I walked into the dining room.

Overnight the rain and clouds had lifted, and across the harbor were the most beautifully majestic mountains I had ever seen. In a matter of hours they had appeared, and yet – they had always been there.