Essay

The little things

By Samantha Loong

I recently spent two weeks visiting friends and family in New Zealand. The journey from London to Wellington was the longest I have ever taken. It was made a bit easier by having the luxury of a giant, crystal-clear personal TV screen during the first leg of the journey. During the second leg, the airplane was an older model, which meant it was back to standard, palm-sized screens. I had already grown attached to my large screen and felt a little sad at its loss. Missing something as trivial as a TV screen made me wonder — what was I going to miss about Wellington?

I didn't realize how much I missed the bus-riding culture in Wellington. In London, as in Osaka and Tokyo, it is very rare to see passengers thanking their bus drivers. Exchanges between driver and passenger in those big cities are generally silent, unless something goes wrong. In Wellington, I had a heart-warming moment when I saw a young child, after encouragement from her mother, thank her bus driver in a loud voice before she hopped off.

It's these little things about being home that make it "home." Things like enjoying a packet of fish and chips by the ocean. Or the sound of a lawn mower on a sunny day; or people wearing running shoes with their business suits when walking to or from work. Even when gusts of wind were blowing rain horizontally into me at a bus shelter, I couldn't help but smile a little.

Being back in New Zealand also made me realize that "home" is where the peculiarities of family become endearing rather than strange. One example of this is the relationship my dad has with our house. The last time I was back in New Zealand, my dad had used a water blaster to write the words "Welcome to our home!" on our driveway. On this last visit, he had placed by the front entrance a small, red, motion-sensing stuffed toy monkey that wolf whistles every time someone walks past it. Odd? Perhaps. Home? Definitely. I can only hope he understands I was joking when I suggested he paint our house number on the roof so that I can see it from the air whenever I fly in.

There's an expression, "you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone," which works in the case of my in-flight TV screen. It had been three years since I last visited New Zealand, but while I was away, I don't think I consciously missed what I'd had. But having spent time with friends, family and in the city, I realized that it's more that I didn't know what I had until I saw it again.

Shukan ST: March 12, 2010

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