Unlocking the Keys

Don’t say it, don’t say it, I silently plead. With eyes locked firmly on the industrial carpet below my feet I concentrate on my breathing. Breathe in, breathe out, that’s it Vicky you can do it. The internal dialogue continues.

I’m an emotional wreck, a giant knot of matted feelings threatening to burst forth in an incredibly raw display of sentiment. Sentimental, that’s it. I am feeling sentimental. It’s okay, sentimental is okay, I can do this. Breathe in, breathe out.

Oblivious to my turmoil the immigration officer stamps my passport, looks me in the eye and with a broad Kiwi accent says, “Welcome Home”.

There it is. He said it.

With his casual nature, easy smile and just two words, this amiable official unravels me. In an almighty flourish of emotion tears pour down my cheeks. Unable to restrain my sentiment any longer I let go great gasping sobs—a gentle sniffle seemingly too small to suffice.

“Th-th-thaaank you,” I mumble to the stunned gentleman and brush past the counter, falling into the arms of my husband and travel companion, Simon.

“You knew it would happen, didn’t you?” he says light-heartedly as he gently rubs my back.

I look into his dark eyes and realise he’s right. I’m an emotional type so tears are not unusual, and returning to my homeland today is more than enough to set me off. You see, I love this country. I love the soaring mountains, the long coastlines, the acres of rolling green grass, the rugged wilderness and the easy and informal way of life. I love the very essence of the land, the ever present echo of nature and that very special something which silently calls.

There are undoubtedly places in this world that touch the soul more readily than others. Places where you feel something stir in the depths of your being. New Zealand is one such place and I never tire of meeting people who, upon learning you are a Kiwi, embark on a nostalgic account of their own trip to our distant land. No matter who they are, there is an inevitable shift in their energy, a smile lighting them up as they wax lyrical about our island nation.

It is a remarkable phenomenon, how a little country on the far side of the globe can pack such a punch. Perhaps it’s what Thomas Bracken was hoping for when he wrote our national anthem in the 1800s including the line “make our praises heard afar”. Well mission accomplished I’d say. Well done Thomas.

Deep within I feel infinite gratitude for the privilege of calling this land home, and standing now in the customs hall of Auckland airport I let that sentiment brim to the surface. Unabashedly I allow nostalgia to overwhelm me and cry sweet tears of affection for my native soil. Dorothy’s right, there is no place like home.

Of course, as much as I love home, I love travelling too; hence the airport and the passport stamp. Right now Simon and I are returning from a two-year global sojourn: twenty four delightful months of travelling, working and exploring abroad. I guess you could call it a middle-aged gap year (or two, as the case may be).

Travelling is a shared passion and we’ve taken every opportunity we could over the years to explore distant lands. This, however, is by far our longest stint away. It’s something you’d think we’d have spent months planning and I guess on one hand we did. We had always toyed with the notion of taking a year off—to just see what happened—but of course there was always a list of reasons why we couldn’t. In late 2009, quite unexpectedly, all that changed. We simply woke one morning with a different perspective. It was as if all our fears had vanished in the night and there were no excuses anymore. We just knew it was time to go—and truth be told, it had only been fear holding us back.

Once the talking started, there was no stopping us. In an enthusiastic rush of fearlessness one thing led to another and before there was time to reconsider we’d booked two around the world airfares. That was it, Lady Destiny had played her hand and the stage was set.

Now, back in New Zealand twenty-four hours after landing, I have sufficient sleep under my belt to regain my equilibrium. We’re in the city of Auckland, a couple of thousand kilometres from our home in the deep-south. We have time before our final leg and over brunch we find ourselves reflecting on an extraordinary voyage. Mulling over the remarkable places we’ve been I recall the incredible twists and turns, the moments I never could have anticipated.

My thoughts drift as images come flooding back; the chaos of Egypt, the colours of Greece, the enchantment of England, the beauty of Laos, the tranquillity of Japan—so many places, so many memories.

“Where were we this time last year?” Simon asks.

January 2011. It takes only a moment to cast my mind back, a smile lighting my face as I remember. A year ago we were enjoying our final days in Jordan before heading to Egypt, nine months into our adventure and well and truly in travel mode. Of course, a year ago we had no idea of the events that would soon unfold!

I’ve always said travel has three stages of enjoyment. First there’s the pleasure of planning it; perusing maps, scouring the internet and pouring through the brochures. Second is actually being there; living the dream, smelling the air, hearing the sounds and getting up close and personal. Finally there is the enjoyment that only comes with reflection, the looking back and the remembering. Sometimes I think that’s the best part, reliving the moments that have captured your heart and understanding how they have changed you.