After my first season in Antarctica, nearly ten years ago, upon my return to New Zealand, I found myself overcome by allergies- constant sneezing, itchy watery eyes, the whole bit. It was my first foray into allergies in my then 25 years on the planet. Apparently after six months in a cold hostile environment, the overwhelming amount of live green growing things was just too much for my system to handle.
Thankfully, I am no longer besieged by allergies when I arrive on soil, but the overwhelming nature of New Zealand in the summertime is still just as profound. Aside from brief stops to ditch the Antarctic cold weather gear and a hot shower, my first stop in Christchurch is always the Botanic Gardens. It is the end of summer here, and the garden is in full bloom. Not only is the grass green and lush, and the garden beds awash in the colors and shapes of all manner of blooms, but there are also children, and dogs, and birds, and ducks, and ice cream, and all manner of things that I haven't seen in far too long. I slip off my sandals as soon as I am inside the iron gate, wriggling my toes in the grass. Inevitably I snap a million photos of flowers, so in awe that these colors and fragrances exist in the world. And the whole time, as I meander through the garden paths, I say over and over to myself "Don't be weird. Don't be weird. Keep it together." Because what I really want to do is consume this place. I want to roll in the grass and smell every.single.flower. I want to tackle the puppies and chase the ducks. I want to hug random people's babies. I want to lick the trees and maybe eat a dahlia. It is overwhelming. The sudden energy of a million stimuli previously missing from my existence leaves me feeling like I will burst at the seams.
