To
say “New Zealand is beautiful” is pretty much a cliché. Before my recent three-week visit there,
whenever I had mentioned my then-upcoming travel to someone here in the U.S.,
they had instantly remarked about NZ’s famed beauty even if they had never set
foot in that land. But I would like to
posit that NZ is the most beautiful country on the planet and
principally for two reasons, the second of which is likely to surprise those who have
never been there.
First,
about that nation’s natural heritage, and here my focus is on South Island (SI
for short), which is where I spent most of my time. Just over 500 miles in
length (two thirds that of California’s) and a width averaging a mere 100
miles, SI is endowed with an unbelievable diversity of impossibly beautiful
physical features: It is crammed with every kind of geographical wonder we get
to see in America’s national parks (save for the red sandstone landmarks of
Arizona and Utah)–snowcaps and glaciers; gorges; mountain rivers and streams;
waterfalls; rainforests; vast and deep lakes; fjords; sounds and other bodies
of water teeming with marine wildlife and beckoning islets; and an infinitude
of hills and valleys which are invariably dotted with sheep. [Yes, I constantly
heard the strains of Bach’s “Where Sheep May Safely Graze” in the background. J]
During our road trips, I was forever fighting the urge to stop every half mile
to photograph the ever-changing (and yes, breathtaking!) scenery.
And
now to the second reason for writing this love letter, this valentine: It’s that nation’s
people! Anthropologists would do well to put New Zealanders under
the microscope because they are not like the rest of us. Instead, the kiwis are a
more refined “subspecies of Homo sapiens.” During my travels, there wasn’t a
day when I did not pause to reflect on how unfailingly polite, courteous, and
soft-spoken they all are, in striking contrast to the coarseness, the
brusqueness, and the rudeness that has been pervading the rest of the planet at
a galloping pace. It’s as if all the
kiwis were on a caboose that had become detached from a long train that had on
board the rest of the world and which was speeding toward a future that
promises to be cruder, more impolite, and more discourteous by the day.
I
end this paean with a question that, by now, has probably arisen in your mind
as well: How long can New Zealanders
maintain their unique culture, and their unmatched, unrivaled social qualities,
before they too are hopelessly infected by the curtness and crassness of the
outside world?
© Copyright 2018
V. J. Singal
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