1.4 – ‘Now and Then’

Karitane, Day and Night.

Karitane is the place to go. Waking up on a brisk morning, clutching onto sleeping bags waiting for warmth to flourish through us. Once you’re awake, you’re awake. Seagulls screech outside surrounding our little tents acting like they have finally found their food, drowning out the more favorable sound of waves crashing against the glossed over sand. The smell of bacon and eggs, streams through the air almost like an inversion layer is forming. Soon the air starts to thicken with warmth, blankets of clothes are beginning to peel off of people. Their exposed skin now aware of the burning that’s about to come. Sunny sky’s heat up the ocean, making surfing more pleasant than swimming in an ice bath. Seeing towels thrown over the beach ready for someone to come back to. Hearing kids splash in the water, parents holding onto them tight, only hoping for their safety. Smelly fish, paua and claims join our nostrils, effecting our taste buds. The guys carrying mountain loads of them in their arms. Slowly walking up the narrow one way street back to the house feels like a mile in our bare feet. But what feels like a mile is only about three minutes at tops. Little things on the way up making it more painful than it needs to be. Heavy wet suits hanging onto our body’s, water dripping down to the road sizzling. The rocky, black, tar seal almost peels off of the road and onto the bottoms of bare feet. With the slightest touch of a stone on rough skin, it stabs through like a sharp pin. Seeing the small grassy path, a sensation drops in your stomach, feeling as if you’ve reached the end of a massive journey. Grass being squashed and patted down to flatness takes us back home. Tents are closed up to keep the vicious sand fly’s out. They fight and crawl over our skin for just one taste of blood. Clothes start to build up on people making them look like a chubby marshmallow. Night time now means the bonfire is lit, iced over hands are made toasty warm. Cautious of the ash floating slowly into our hair making it look like its snowing. Around the bonfire we sit in cute little camp chairs, roasting marshmallows, pretending to not be stuffed full of the dinner we just shoved into our gobs. Parents shortly turn into rowdy dogs, barking over the silence spread around the town. Stars emerge through the clouds, making out the milky way and planets, maybe even noticing what shapes they make. All while the moon is full. Lighting up the scenery around us with a passionate white glow. At midnight it starts to get bitter. Crisp, sharp, stinging. That’s the type of sensation the bitter feeling gives to us. Sleeping bags are waiting for the soon to come body warmth, but our body warmth is holding onto the last feeling of actual warmth before we step into raw tents for the night’s sleep.