I feel somewhat ridiculous admitting this, but here we go.

I cried at a sunset.

I’d like to stress it was not full on sobbing but there were enough tears to warrant ticking ‘crying at a sunset’ off the backpacker bingo card. (You’ll be relieved to know I’ve yet to say I’ve found myself.)

cried at a sunset. 

I worry if I had been a few years younger I would have written a poem about it, too. I also worry that if I explain it, I’ll make myself sound worse but the reason I’m bothering to write about this is because it was a special moment for me. So you’ll have to bear with me.

I was in Taupo on a one day visit before continuing up to Auckland for the Easter weekend.


This was my first time getting a little holiday in New Zealand, as I had mostly been working full time at Foxglove.

I met a couple of lovely girls on the Kiwi Experience bus and we spent a grey afternoon playing mini-golf with a guy from our bus. It was such an unexpected pocket of pleasantness to find myself in as I hadn’t expected to bond with people in the couple of days I would be on the bus. My big Kiwi Experience was waiting for the summer and savings to roll around.

Later in the day I was in my surprisingly empty hostel room, content with own company and thankful for the bottom bunk. I was just scrolling through my phone, messaging a few friends from home, when I noticed the lighting in the room began to change. It was so yellow, like melting butter.

This is going to be good. 

Just to let you know, my dad and I love sunsets. We’re both known for taking pictures from our home or occasionally going out into the street if it’s a particularly impressive one. One time we were driving home, watching the sky blush a deeper and deeper pink. We stopped the car in a field, leaped out and looked around in awe. Dad was practically whooping with joy.  I definitely get my love of nature and giving time to appreciate the simple things from him. I am so grateful to have both of these traits.

I raced from my room and headed to Lake Taupo. I got to the lake in minutes, my palms tingled, I had a feeling what I was about to see was special.

All I could do initially was just stand there, trying to take it in. I tend to think of the sky in shades of blue, grey before it fades to black. I didn’t think it could be this purple.  It was ethereal. Swirls of pink were amid the purple and the clouds lined with that buttery light. The water was reflecting, amplifying it, making the colours all the richer. The ripples mixing this palette together. There was little sound apart from the flow of water and fellow sunset watchers remarking at the magnificence of this moment.


I let out an incredulous laugh, quickly holding a hand to my mouth. I shook my head in disbelief.

How is this real? What did I do to get so lucky to see something like this? I get to call this beautiful country home.

It was here when the tears came out.

I watched the light change: the lilac became a rich plum, to a dark velvet, the pink becoming crimson and the water steadily growing darker.


I took great pleasure in the fact I could dedicate my time to watch the sun sink behind the mountains and think of little else. I think it’s important to remember these little moments, the simple joy of watching of a sunset and giving some time to admire the world, no matter where you are in it.


One thought on “Taupo

  1. Pingback: There and Back Again | The Little Sail Boat

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