Jack Tame lived in New York for over five years as One News' correspondent.
Jack Tame lived in New York for over five years as One News' correspondent.
Opinion
After five years of living in New York, I'm packing to move home. I have dragged out a mouldy old hard-shell suitcase that hasn't been used since the day I came to the States. I have coldly assessed the various items on my bookshelf - Steinbeck and Kapuscinski might geta stay of execution, but Mitt Romney's memoir has probably done its dash.
I've sorted out my Kiwi kitsch: Dick Frizzell tea towels, Buzzy Bee bookends and some particularly tasteless salt-and-pepper shakers in the shape of kapa haka performers.
A sack in the corner of my bedroom swells with clothes bound for a Salvation Army future.
I'm wondering if, rather than the job I've taken in New Zealand, I'd be better suited setting myself up in one of those ridiculous new-age Oprah professions you hear about on afternoon TV.
I would have ridiculed the idea once but living in New York City - this crossroad of consumption - has been a wonderful exercise in the joys of a life without stuff.
A one-bedroom apartment. Few possessions. The bare necessities of bachelor life. Living here has shown me how any professional without commitments or a family should be existing in 2016.
Living here has shown me how any professional without commitments or a family should be existing in 2016. Photo / Supplied
The kitchen is an excellent place to start. Kiwi visitors are often alarmed to discover I don't have a microwave. I don't have a toaster. I don't have an electric mixer, a blender, or anything on the crock-pot front.
I avoid gimmicky appliances - you won't find a popcorn maker, soda machine or pasta press at my place. And it's not that I don't cook. I make dinner several days a week. Sometimes, I even entertain friends for a few drinks.
And honestly, it's not that I'm cheap. There's a simple pleasure in existing without stuff. I'd rather invest in a few good-quality bits than a kitchen chock-full of junk.
When I left New Zealand, the generally accepted philosophy for yo-pro life was quarter-acre or bust. A shared villa with however many rooms and a big backyard.
And although the apartment scene in Auckland has undoubtedly improved, I'm steeling myself for the realities of Kiwi life.
