The Upside of Down by Susan Biggar Read Free Book Online

whom remained with us for more than six months each. The toilet overflowed repeatedly, the fridge was forever empty and we ran regular tours to the Imperial War Museum. During that time we travelled across the UK and Europe, including visiting friends on a remote island in Sweden, crashing our motorbike in Crete and nearly wrecking our relationship on a mid-winter tandem bike tour in Cornwall. With a ‘date night’ every Thursday to defend our marriage against the chaos, we were happy.
    Yet after two years in London we were ready to start thinking about a family and our grimy surroundings and hectic life made it feel out of reach. Darryl had been living overseas for ten years and wanted to go home, so when he received a job offer from the New Zealand government, we jumped at it.
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    Wellington, New Zealand’s capital, rests on the bottom lip of the North Island. It’s relatively small, with a population approaching 400,000 and holds the distinction of being the southernmost capital city in the world. It is reminiscent of San Francisco: hilly, packed with stately Victorian homes and surrounded by water on several sides. We quickly discovered that, like San Franciscans, most Wellingtonians are devoted to the place and its idiosyncrasies and wouldn’t consider living anywhere else.
    I had only been to New Zealand once before this move, seven months after our wedding. On that visit I had found it a lush, green land where rain and sheep are plentiful and the people relaxed and gracious. I was welcomed into Darryl’s circle by his family and friends, taken house-to-house for a nonstop food-fest and more cups of tea than I’d normally drink in a year. In fact, the three-week visit had been part holiday, part marriage course as meeting New Zealand was like meeting my husband again for the first time. His attitudes and behaviours began to make sense there, as though watching a blurry picture come into focus.
    It wasn’t until that first trip that I began to understand why Darryl is so trusting of strangers and, in my view, careless about security, rarely locking the car and regularly leaving his keys in doors. While on our visit we went to some outdoor thermal pools. There was no attendant, just a sign with prices and an ‘honesty box’. A similar box appeared at a blueberry-picking farm hundreds of kilometres south. When we turned up in a small beach town with nowhere to stay, the owner of the surf shop rented us a catamaran and, upon our return, handed over directions and the key to his house. We ate fish and chips wrapped in newspaper and spent the evening square-dancing at the hall with him and other locals before spending the night on the floor of his living room.
    One of the aspects of New Zealand that surprised me the most was its wild, untamed nature. I had expected trimmed lawns and deciduous trees, but was met with jungle bush and native plants such as Manuka and Pohutukawa which grow wildly or bloom in stunning colours. Even the beaches were less predictable than I anticipated—some, white sand and turquoise water, others black pebbles, cliffs or rocky outcrops overlooking tumbling seas. Interestingly, I could already see that defiant, untamed side in my new husband. Smart and able to ‘follow the rules’ but contrasted by a burning desire to push the limits and a fierce independence. These were things I admired in him then, but which would test our relationship in the years to come when serious pressure would be placed on us.
    Arriving in New Zealand the second time, on a one-way ticket, I was surprised by the daunting nature of anonymity. If we had been moving to my hometown near San Francisco I might have still known people. My roots are there. When visiting California, I inevitably bump into a classmate from high school at the bagel shop or spot my inspirational English teacher having breakfast at The Half Day Café . Certainly if I linger long enough at the post