For New Years Eve, we headed to Omokoroa because my Kiwi friend Steve (who I lived with in Melbourne, 6 years ago or so) invited us to his friends house party. I was imagining a small Allston-style house party so Sandy and I were beyond thrilled when we pulled up to a super sick house on a Kiwi orchard (how appropriate), complete with a tent designated just for dancing.
My favorite photo of Sandy to date.
Sorry for the blurry photos but my camera was acting up and also, let's face it, that's usually the sign of a good night. We danced in and out of the rain to Fleetwood Mac and Kanye West, drank champagne and ate Tim Tams, heard best attempts at American accents, deciphered Kiwi slang, lit sparklers and fireworks and woke up next to the Kiwi orchard feeling like a mix of fantastic and like absolute hell. It was great to catch up with Steve on the past 6 years of life and see how the other side of the world throws a party.
Note the gorgeous violet tree, dance tent and remnants of a slip and slide.
Sandy sitting on our home.
Steve and I, 6 years after we slept in a shed in St. Kilda, Melbourne. He let me crash there when I was broke and I paid rent with sandwiches from the cafe I worked at.
After a lazy morning lounging under the dance tent, once again, we hit the road.