Before I moved to New Zealand, I was warned that it would be like stepping back in time. Back several decades. I had visions of brown wallpaper and formica tables. Of a world before online deliveries.
On-line house hunting before I left home seemed to reaffirm these suspicions. Floral wallpaper. Corduroy sofas. Not quite the sleek and modern style I was used to. Could I live in something that was stuck in the seventies?!
In reality it is not that bad. I found myself a modern new build flat with all the modern amenities. Except heating. Heating is where this country really does live in the past. And not just decades, a hundred years. Only now are places being built with insulation. My flat is at least insulated. But there is no heating. People shiver through the cold winters (bad enough in Auckland but down south it gets really cold). They get ill. In a developed country, this seems crazy to an outsider like me. And to be honest, to many New Zealanders as well. Government policy is changing slowly but, in the meantime, people continue to live in houses that haven’t changed much since the Brits arrived in the early 19th century.
Stepping back in time isn’t all bad though. It brings a social attitude that the Brits have largely forgotten existed. People are polite and thoughtful. They say hello to the bus driver when they get on. They thank him/her when they get off. Cars stop at pedestrian crossings metres before you actually get there. And they stop even if there isn’t a formal crossing. People here are polite and considerate. And that is a historic quality that I do envy them for.
Speaking of roads, there is an unusually high proportion of classic cars on the road. Vintage ones are presumably collectors’ items but the 1960s ones are just old rust buckets. It’s not quite Old Havana but there is definitely something going on. I just haven’t quite worked out what.
Some towns are like living museums. Except they are not museums. Victorian stores & draperies, post offices and libraries (athenaeums), banks and churches still line some rural high streets. They are towns frozen in time. It is almost possible to imagine the energy of the gold rush when these towns were brimming with hope and dreams. Now, they are quiet, sometimes almost silent. It is ironic that these towns feel more Victorian than towns in the land of Victoria herself. The rows of terraced Victorian houses and grand buildings of English cities go almost unnoticed but somehow the small settlements here bring history to life. Call me nostalgic (or controversial in this time of cancel culture), but I love the romance of yester-year.
PS. I have seen the odd formica table!
1 Comment
Anne Whitlam · 17/09/2020 at 18:37
I love it. To see a place from a different angle and appreciate the good things they offer, instead of always nit-picking is a rare quality. But I wouldn’t expect anything different. M.
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