The soft winter sun sends a soft orange glow through the bedroom window. The light warps through the sagging single pane window as it surrenders to time. Mummified in my sleeping bag, I watch the steam gently roll off my breath as I exhale. Shivering, I feel the heat draining from my body as the thirty degree Fahrenheit bag tries to stave off the cold. Staring up, the chipped white paint hangs from the ceiling reminiscent of the rundown apartments I lived in during college.
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| Tea and music |
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| Treasures |
Refusing to battle the cold any longer I slide out of my sleeping bag and bundle up in long underwear and a snowboarding jacket. Making my way to the kitchen the other housemates are bundled up and shivering around the dining table. With the tea kettle beginning to boil, I eagerly stare imagining the hot liquid just minutes away warming my body.
"It doesn't even feel like it gets this cold in Norway. And the houses definitely don't get this cold inside," says the Norwegian exchange student.
My Kiwi friend Ruth says, "We've definitely adapted to the English way. Most houses here don't have insulation or heating inside. On the South island my friend's shampoo bottles freeze..."
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| A Kiwi household with a touch of the USA |
Ruth pouring the hot water into our tea cups, I watch as the English Breakfast seeps into the water. Three minutes in hot water - no more and no less with a splash of milk. Proper tea drinkers. The cup warming my hands and my body I take a sip. Watching the steam dissipate into the air, I'm thankful that the English introduced morning tea to New Zealand. It's a life saver.
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| Working on art |
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| Views from Waiheke island |
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| Overnight secondary wash |
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| Little gremlin |
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| It's a real thing on Waiheke |
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| Auckland the City of Sails |
