Nothing screams summer to me like a cold Pinot Gris in one hand and swatting a pesky mosquito with the other.
I like to feel loved. Not however by mosquitos. Welcome to New Zealand’s far north — better beaches and better mozzies.
By day 4 camping I normally look like I have mild chicken pox. Just what you want while prancing about in bikinis and skimpy beach apparel. Luckily my deep summer tan almost disguises the bites. Almost.
Mosquitos are forgiven though, as it’s summer holidays. I get to swim in the ocean countless times daily. I wake up, gaze at an expanse of blue skies and waters, and do what I feel.
Summer has always been my favourite season, I remember as a child always being so disappointed my birthday had to be in winter.
I love the way summer feels. Sultry days and balmy evenings. Sun, sunnies, smiles, surf, sand, salty hair, sunkissed skin and a large splash of serenity. It feels like happiness.
I’ve chased endless summer around the globe, perpetually following the sun and avoiding the cold. I love the adventure and possibilities of summer abroad, but there is something special about summers here at home.
New Zealand and New Zealander’s are just uber chill, and summer epitomises the ultimate chill. I can walk around barefoot, makeup free, untamed salted curls — and still feel attractive. It’s liberating.
The beaches may be lacking in amping parties but they are beautiful, vast and untouched. Think retreat meets private beach filled with friends. It’s nice.
I travelled the world, searching for the perfect beach, and a utopian paradise not yet claimed (yes I may have been quite taken by the Beach) That utopia was never found, yet I think I’ve got a little slice of it here. Call it my happy place.