I’d like to write a bit about the nature here in New Zealand. As island nations, New Zealand and Japan share many similarities. The first time  I visited this country was with my children and my younger brother—a group of five of us in total—to find a study-abroad destination for my  nephew in Japan. My own children had already been accepted to middle and high schools here, and it was 1995, just after  the Great Hanshin-Awaji Earthquake had struck.

Guided by a former classmate now living in Australia, we explored potential universities for my nephew’s study abroad. We stayed at  a hotel in Sydney for about three days, where a young woman from Kobe on a working holiday visa came to visit. She mentioned that it was  hard to get accurate information about the earthquake’s damage from abroad and wanted to know the actual situation. Her family home was  in Tarumi-ku(in Kobe-city), and she was quite worried. I shared my honest opinion that it might be best for her to wait and not rush back until things settled down.

On the day of the earthquake, we were staying at my family’s home in Hamamatsu-city after returning from Rio de Janeiro. In the early morning,  I woke up, and within about ten minutes, the shaking began. It wasn’t a particularly violent tremor, but it was unsettling—a swaying, lateral motion  that made it feel like the ground beneath us was loose and shifting. For about 40 seconds, I could only hope for it to end quickly. Later that  morning, I learned from the TV that it was the devastating Kobe earthquake. I remember encouraging the young woman who visited us at the Sydney hotel to stay hopeful, even though she was deeply concerned. With heavy  hearts, we headed to the airport, feeling reluctant to leave while Japan was going through such a difficult time.

We arrived in Christchurch on New Zealand’s South Island and toured several universities in the area. From there, we rented a car and drove  to Picton, the northernmost town on the South Island where the ferry departs for Wellington, the capital on the North Island. The entire  350 km journey was driven by my brother, while I took in the New Zealand countryside from the back seat, seeing it for the first time. Having  lived in Brazil, where I was used to left-hand steering and driving on the right side of the road, I wasn’t confident enough to drive myself in New Zealand.

Looking out from the car window, the landscape stretched on endlessly, filled only with pastures, with sheep and cows dotting the scenery.  The British settlers had cleared the native forests all the way up to the mountain peaks, creating an unbroken view of uniform farmland.  It reminded me of a time in Brazil when my nephew visited, and we traveled down the Amazon River for a full day with my children. Just as  they eventually grew weary of the endlessly unfolding rainforest, here in New Zealand, the view was similarly repetitive, with farmland stretching  as far as the eye could see. (to be continued)