Quintessential Kiwi Break

It might be my generation or it just could be the stuff of urban myths BUT I reckon I had the quintessential Kiwi break over Christmas. Your garden variety Kiwi will always talk about going to "the bach" - or in the South Island, for reasons only known to themselves it is the "crib". Anyway - it's your family holiday place. Some of us are lucky to own them and the rest of us either buddy up those that do own them or rent them from families that are lucky enough to own them.

In recent times some of these 'baches' have taken on new meaning. For some strange reason people want to replicate their everyday life at the bach so you have monuments to man full of the latest gadgets, the imported kitchens, the high grade finishes - so pretentious that relaxing would be the last thing on my mind in these monliths. People often have illusions of grandeur about their holiday places but not so the wonderful bach I stayed at this Christmas.

I stayed with friends at their place in Taupo that was so far removed from the 'look-at-me' palaces it was sheer joy to stay there. I was reminded of our first family bach - a renovated garage - loving built by my father and his friends over many weekends of work, fishing, drinking and reminiscing. As a family we had some wonderful times in our bach - we did upgrade to a more swanky place that my mother insisted we call the 'cottage'. But to us - it was the bach.

And so was this place at Taupo. Three bedrooms - two original and one add-on - one small kitchen area and an overused bathroom and toilet. Interior painting not quite finished yet (and may never be!) It was a holiday home for up to 20 people over the Christmas break and it coped admirably. No fear of upsetting the imported finishes here. It was decided that the only carpeted area in the 'living room' was beyond its use, so off to the dump it went. Only to be replaced by another newer piece of carpet found at the dump and lovingly laid by father and son one afternoon. There was the hole in the cladding from some over-exuberant hammock use that was repaired with little fuss apart from some choice words for the culprit. On one wall in the living area were the height marks of the various children, cousins and visitors over the years. The yard was dotted with boats, bikes, dinghies, water toys and washing. There was the odd tent erected here and there to cope with the overload.

The small bach was always full of comings and goings. Kids lazing around, parents complaining that the kids never did anything and Grandad quietly working away in the background cleaning up after everyone. Some went fishing, some went swimming, others sat on the deck and whiled away the hours with drink in hand. People dropped in, some went for walks and others went to do the never-ending food shopping. And this chaos seemed to work. No-one went missing, no major upheavals and lots of laughing.

Mealtimes were a collaborative affair - mostly among the adults - it just seemed to happen. And then there was sitting around the fire at night. A collection of chairs and boxes to sit on, three generations 'chewing the fat' and a plastic bag of pistachios religiously doing the rounds.

That was a quintessential Kiwi break in my dictionary and I am so glad I got to share it. Memories of my childhood came flooding back and I could see that the kids in the current generation would have the same memories as time went by. Thanks Di and family.

THE BEST.......worshipping at the altar of Kiwiana.

THE WORST......a little apprehensive having only one toilet/bathroom combined to share with 13 other people when you have a bladder the size of a peanut!

I AM LEARNING......that the quintessential Kiwi experience is still out there.