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At this point, 90% of my packing is done, which in our world always feels like a minor miracle. I always forget how satisfying it is to see the neat little piles dwindle, the suitcases standing at attention by the door as if they, too, are ready for the next chapter. Tom, as always, packs his clothes his way…button-down shirts carefully hanging on the same plastic hangers that have traveled with us for years. Those hangers have seen more countries than many passports.
Soon, we’ll clean the house. For me, the biggest hurdle is always the refrigerator. I dread it every single time we leave a holiday rental. It’s never as bad as I imagine—fifteen minutes at most—but somehow it looms large in my mind. Perhaps it’s symbolic. Cleaning out the fridge feels like erasing the evidence that we ever lived here. The condiments we bought, the carefully selected produce, the bits and pieces that sustained us during quiet dinners at “home.” Wiping those shelves clean is my silent goodbye.
The laundry is washed, dried, folded, and tucked away. I love knowing that when we arrive in Penguin, we’ll start fresh, with no lingering piles waiting for attention. We’ll only have what we wear for the drive tomorrow, our overnight stay in Auckland, and then the four-hour journey from Hobart Airport to Penguin. There’s something deeply comforting about beginning in a new place with every sock and shirt clean and ready.
If all goes according to plan, we should arrive in Penguin by dinnertime. I can already picture it: unloading our bags, taking a moment to exhale, and then heading out to dinner in one of the restaurants in town, just a five-minute drive from the house. Today, we’ll decide where to go, weighing menus online and considering what suits both our tastes and our way of eating. After travel days, we like something simple, satisfying, and welcoming. No fuss. Just good food and the pleasure of sitting across from each other in yet another new setting.
Unpacking will likely take a full day, and we’ll leave that for the following morning. I’ve learned not to rush that process. Unpacking is how we settle in. It’s how a rental house slowly begins to feel like ours. Afterward, we’ll make the 25-minute drive to Devonport for groceries. There is an IGA market in Penguin, but from what we remember ten years ago, the selection was limited. Of course, a decade changes many things. Perhaps we’ll be pleasantly surprised. Travel has taught us never to rely too heavily on old memories; places evolve, just as we do.
Tonight, we’ll say goodbye to Dave and Eing, our kind and thoughtful hosts who so quickly became friends. We’ll offer them our remaining food, a couple of steaks, an unopened one-kilogram block of Gouda, a few containers of sour cream, and a handful of odds and ends. We’ve done well to finish nearly everything else. Passing along what remains feels right, a small gesture of gratitude for their generosity.
Tomorrow, we plan to leave around noon, giving ourselves ample time to reach our hotel in Auckland. This morning, we paid the toll charge online in advance. There are no toll booths here, only cameras quietly recording license plates. Failure to pay results in hefty fines. The cost for our trip is NZ $3.60, US $1.57. It’s modest, but ignoring it would trigger penalties not only from the toll authority but also from the car rental company, which would charge our credit card on file. Each country has its own rules and systems for toll roads, and we’ve learned it’s always worth checking in advance to avoid unnecessary fees.
And so, another chapter gently closes while the next waits just beyond tomorrow’s drive. That’s it for today, dear readers.
Be well.
Photo from ten years ago today, February 10, 2016:
