took a bus from the west coast back to christchurch yesterday (probably a good idea since i fly out this afternoon) and, not having access to a book, did nothing but stare out the window for four hours.

nate sighs

the countryside that i saw scrolling by the window surpasses amazing. rolling hills contriving to become mountain ranges as they climb away from ambling rivers. fog and low clouds hanging in the passes, shrinking the larger world to one of small grandeur. romantic would be an apt (but poor) way to describe it. beautiful only slightly covers the sharp intake of breath the next bend around the river brings.

the human hand is here and visable - roads, fencing, pastures, logged hillsides, and the like, but something provides it an air of impermenance. the hand struggles for a solid hold, gamely managing to grasp to loose, wet rock. it is still rugged here in places - the land says so as well as the people.

minds here are of an optimistic, friendly stock - hearts warm as the sun that heats the western coast. with rare exception the average new zealanders i’ve encountered is a hard working sort - apt to shrug off their nature with a look that says things just are as they are. they strike me as truly genuine - perhaps that is what happens when you’re forced to lay in awe of the land that surrounds you. the outside world makes itself known here, pushing for haste, but this island nation seems to stand resolute in its calm and patient nature.

maybe it’s just the idealism and optimism that i carry, maybe it’s truth, but these are the impressions that i’ll leave new zealand with as i begin the long trek home…