As we all know we had a short summer this year. It seems to have spanned Easter and that was it. It truly was a good Friday, and the days that followed, followed a pattern of similar piety. Spirits were lifted.
Fryday’s Easter was spent quietly. I didn’t go anywhere. I spent this longest of all weekends at home apart from a brief and vicarious sojourn in India courtesy of The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel—worth seeing, but nothing more.
What I find remarkable though and perhaps in need of some explanation, should someone wish to proffer it, is why so many people spent their Easter at Mangawhai.
Even the most cursory observation of Facebook suggests that the place was packed. I have never been there so I am somewhat of a loss. What is the attraction? Is it the beach—there are closer beaches, surely. Is it the facilities—for I understand Managawhai has none, though that itself may be the attraction. Is it the culture—bikinis and binges are undoubtedly attractive to many. Mangawhai is not Hamilton, that may be it, but nor is anywhere else. All I know is that had I been at Mangawhai over Easter weekend I would likely have met someone I know on virtually every caravan corner—and that may well have detroyed my purpose for being there--getting away from it all does not usually mean taking the “all” with you.
So, whilst I find myself drawn to Managwhai to see for myself what it has to offer, it will not, I think, be during the holidays—bikinis or no bikinis. In my sixth decade, thongs remain an attraction; throngs, however, are not.
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