Flat white by Andra Lazarescu
Images by Neil Jones
Flat white. That’s the reason. Flat white and a café that reminds me of Brunswick. Except it’s not. It’s Whanganui and you can blame this article on the flat white and an over exuberant exchange leading to this – yes of course I will tell you about my happy place.
In New Zealand, there is only one. At least only one I am prepared to share with strangers. The precis goes something like this: woman picks up brochure takes it home inspires man, place is viewed, dreamt about, viewed again, negotiated over and purchased. All in the space of two years, across two continents.
And so here we are at Maungaraupi
From documents found in the house, the name is “cherished place” in te reo Maori. The full name is Maungaraupi Country Estate. A large house, completed in 1906 by a famous New Zealand architect called Charles Natusch. It takes itself very seriously, in its arts and craft style, adorned with William and Morris wallpaper in most rooms, colorful patterns stretched between wooden beams of Rimu and Mattai.
Except that I refuse to take it seriously at all. I care for it deeply, I allow it to embrace my crazy family with all its nooks and crannies, I install heating (hurray), light fires, chase away the cows, the chickens, the dogs, the mice, prune hedges, but I cannot take it seriously. If I did, I would stop loving it. It started off as a burden – my husband’s folly and my headache, I would describe it in this careless manner.
Honestly, because deep down I was too scared to admit its beauty, and how much it affects me, how it fills me with an energy that I haven’t felt since I was a child. For me the house is the accessory to the main act, the land, the forest, the animals and the life force pulsing through it all. On top of that we have some of the best neigbours in the world, and I say this with some authority on neighbours, and the world.
Then there’s the community. More warmth. The flip side of the coin is that happiness harbours responsibility. Bliss needs to be pierced by duty. Blame that on my grandmother and her Lutheran tendencies. So right now, as the world is going to a dark place in a not-so-chic handbag, I find it hard to share with you the different shades of green, and how I can hear the ducks, and watch native hawks circle overhead, and a heron land on the front lawn. I need to stop gushing, and just be grateful that God found me a place to feel alive in, to feel safe in.
When my Mum came to visit me in London, I took her to see the trees in Hyde Park. Here I sit on the front porch and no matter what is happening I look at the trees, more beautiful than those in Hyde Park. And they look at me and we are in love.
“I called upon the LORD in distress: the LORD answered me, and set me in a large place.” Psalm 118:5
