Dialogue: Bush with danger for this city girl

By TAMSIN GEORGE

There is something that makes summer special for New Zealanders. Perhaps it is because we celebrate Christmas and the New Year in summer, because of our fondly remembered childhood holidays, or because a good Kiwi summer is not the same without a camping holiday and barbecues.

Being a true Kiwi is surely to love the great outdoors. How can you not when we are surrounded by it? No matter where you live, you are only a few hours from sea, forest or mountain.

Even living in the biggest city of the country, there is no excuse - we have access to so many beautiful beaches and walks. There is every reason to partake in some form of outdoor activity on a beautifully sunny day; not even a hangover should get in the way of a day trip to a beach or a bush walk.

Unless, as I am, you are allergic to the bush.

I have been a hay fever sufferer for years. I tolerated it by getting an annual jab in my butt; enough antihistamine for a couple of months in one hit and I would be dosed up, without needing to spend a fortune on pills.

But this year I decided to forgo the injection and to try to deal with it all on my own.

I didn't quite realise exactly what I had been missing out on. Not until a jaunt up a hill with a couple of friends and an incredibly hungover mountain guide turned into a five-hour ordeal, two of which we spent walking in circles, following pink triangles on the trees that at first seemed to appear in something of an order but, as we got more lost, seemed to appear randomly.

It didn't help that we were all feeling mildly like the guide, who was also sleep-deprived.

Nor did it help that we were surrounded by mist, limiting our view and making it impossible to spot landmarks.

During one of a few stops, at a clearing on the hill, I looked down at my elbow and noticed that what had been a slight irritation was now angrily red and inflamed. I also felt a bit giddy and nauseous.

I could have sworn that I could see the fang marks of a hungry spider.

As we wandered in circles and the irritation on my arm got worse, so did my imagination. I was quite pleased to have my cellphone. I would have called anyone to get us out of the bush and back to civilisation.

Luckily, the weather cleared, the mist dissipated and we saw Raglan in quite the opposite direction we thought it was. When we had stopped for lunch, we had turned around and walked back the way we came.

My next outdoor jaunt was a few weeks later and on a farm. Once again I had forgotten to take my hay fever pill (hey, I don't need it in the city).

Being a good Kiwi girl and into the great outdoors, of course I strolled as confidently as the others over the fields towards the sea.

Great long shards of grass swiped at my legs, some lengths reaching just above my knee, some whipping at my calves and ankles.

Nothing I couldn't handle, having grown up with annual camping trips involving beachside sand dunes with long, cutting grass.

I thought nothing of it - until, looking down at my legs, I saw the places where the grass had done more than just casually brush my skin. I had big, angry, red lines that fast turned into welts, burning with an irritation that not even a good scratch could relieve.

A swim in the sea did not quite help either; the salt added to the irritation. I have never felt a sensation like it before in my life and hope I never do again.

Almost in tears, struggling to keep from furiously scratching at my legs, I could not get into the shower fast enough or take a strong enough antihistamine pill - one that quickly put me to sleep.

Obviously, I am not made for the bush unless armed with enough pills, lotions and potions to deal with any allergic reactions.

Yet, curiously, I find myself somewhat offended when my bush prowess is called into question.

I love summer, I love the beach and I appreciate walks in the bush, but I also love my inner-city apartment and do not envy those with back gardens - they are dangerous.

I have learned this summer that just because I am not sneezing it does not follow that I am safe from allergens; that we in New Zealand, although blessed with a beautiful and accessible outdoors, also have a high pollen count; and that some of us should never venture out of the city without taking a first-aid kit equipped with enough cures to make a pharmacist proud.