Since we’re both still sick with this stubborn virus, even the simplest decisions feel heavier than usual. Lately, just thinking about meals for the upcoming week requires more energy than I seem to have. And this isn’t an ordinary week. It includes Tom’s birthday on the 23rd, followed by Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, three occasions I usually mark with intention, care, and a sense of quiet celebration, even when we’re far from those we love. I always try to make something special, something that says this moment matters, no matter where we are in the world. Right now, though, I’m struggling.
The reality is simple and inconvenient: the only way to make those meals happen is to drive to the supermarket, a 36-minute drive from here. Under normal circumstances, that would be mildly annoying. In our current state, still coughing, still weak, still foggy, it feels monumental. This morning, hoping to avoid that drive altogether, I tried another route. I attempted to order takeaway meals that might carry us through Christmas, or at least ease the pressure. Fifteen minutes later, I was still on the phone, unsuccessfully trying to explain our order to the only person working at the restaurant. She didn’t speak English, couldn’t understand what we wanted, and didn’t grasp the importance of delivery. The conversation went in circles, growing more frustrating by the minute. Eventually, I gave up. There was no solution there.
That moment made the truth unavoidable. If we want to eat over the next several days, and especially if we’re going to acknowledge the holidays in any meaningful way, we have to make the drive. Tomorrow, we’ll need to get ready, hop in the car, and drive to the larger supermarket in Mangawhai. I had genuinely thought we’d purchased enough food during our last shop, but as it turns out, we went through it faster than expected. Shopping the morning after we arrived, while exhausted and feeling unwell, wasn’t ideal. In that foggy state, I missed things. Essentials. Items that would have carried us further. The small local market is fine for basics, but it simply doesn’t have what we need right now.
This, I suppose, is the only real drawback of this location. We’re far from full-sized supermarkets and far from restaurants. Once you’re here, you’re committed. It’s home-cooking from here on out, whether I feel up to it or not. In all our years of traveling, this is the farthest we’ve ever been from a proper supermarket. That fact still surprises me. We’ve stayed in remote places before, bush locations, and tiny villages, but somehow this feels different, perhaps because illness narrows one’s tolerance for inconvenience.
Still, as we always do, we’ll adapt. We always do. Tomorrow we’ll make the drive, and do our best to gather what we need not just to get by, but to mark the days ahead in some small, meaningful way. Even if the meals are simpler than usual, even if my energy runs out halfway through cooking, there will be intention behind them. That matters to me.
And honestly, the drive itself may offer a quiet reward. The scenery along the way is beautiful, rolling and expansive, and I know there will be photo opportunities worth sharing here. New Zealand has a way of offering beauty even when you’re tired, even when you’re sick. For tonight, at least, we’re fine. We have enough for dinner, enough to rest and regroup. But with Christmas approaching quickly, tomorrow is the best and really the only day to go. So we’ll do it, one careful step at a time, and trust that this, too, will become just another chapter in our ongoing lesson in adaptability.
Nonetheless, we are grateful to be getting a little better each day and to be in the beautiful country of New Zealand during the holiday season.
Be well.
Photo from ten years ago today, December 21, 2015:
