Boxing Day 2013

Well, Christmas Day is over and nothing is much different, Bear and I spent the night together as we always do, and he is happy about that, fidelity is his strong point I must say.

Yesterday went extremely well, I took my friend L to visit B and she had invited a few other orphans along. The weather was unbelievably perfect, the food excellent, and not too much, and we met some nice local people and B. was delighted we came. Amongst all this  L lost his cellphone on the bus on the way, but Wellington being as it is, a quick phone call to his phone put it to rest. It had been rescued and had been handed in to the main bus station, ready to be identified and given back. So all was well.

Today has been totally restful, reading and preparing food for L and WW, whom I had invited for tea today. They arrived at six o'clock, in fine form. We finalised plans for  a Saturday pickup and tried on some fancy dress. It will be quite a show at at Vinegar Hill and I am looking forward to it. Bear will just have to have a quiet time over the New Year. He is used to it. Sorry I couldn't adjust the photos of WW and L, they will have to stay supine, perhaps better that way, as L. looks like he's ready for bed anyway.

Below is photo at 9.30pm the eve of our departure to Vinegar Hill.. It is cool and wet and windy, God only knows how it will be up there. I have one sole regret that I didn't bring my gumboots from Hobart...I forgot them under the laundry sink, they may have been just what V.H. demands! Oh well, we will have to manage in Ugg boots!

Courtenay Grand

Today I came in to BP on a whim, and R invited L and me to lunch at the Grand Hotel, a cavernous building a few doors up from BP on Courtenay. With time for a haircut I duck up to Cuba St and sure enough Danny my English Hairdresser is waiting for me to give a short cut in more ways than one. Feeling new with very cropped hair,  I take off back to meet the two of them at the Grand. Shopping will come later.

The Bar dining area of the Grand Hotel in Courtenay Place.

It is time for giving they say, and although I am not a Christmas animal it is nice to give, and receive, a little at the end of the year. I have decided to take L to lunch at B's on Christmas day, after all, we are all orphans in a sense, esp. L whose family are a continent away. Think this is a good idea so have rung B to ask her on her answering service. Am sure it will be fine. Tomorrow L and I are going to see the 3D version of The Hobbit, some scenes were shot near Nelson where I was yesterday. Will be a buzz.

A phone call has just confirmed my thoughts about the generosity of the Kiwis and has cemented a good Christmas Day.  B. is a real Kiwi giver and was delighted to know I was bringing a friend, even more delighted when I told her who it was. It will be a lovely day I am sure, just the sort of Christmas I would have organised myself, only it's better, as I'm not doing all the work, lol!

Lunch at The Grand with R and L.

Picton and home

Another good night's sleep with lots of dreams - the workshop, which wasn't really a workshop, went well and as I woke early I decided to walk slowly down to the town to wait for the bus and have a coffee, but the only place open was a Subway. There was one lone customer like myself having an early coffee at this traveller's rest in Nelson, on Sunday at a very early seven a.m.

Arriving in Picton, I had a second attempt at finding a good coffee at 'Le Cafe'. A great success, and with a Florentine!

Above, the excellent barista, and the nice 'garcon' at 'Le Cafe'. I could recommend it to anyone, with also a great view of the picturesque waterfront. Picton is a pretty village, but is that only, and is really a kick-off point to see Queen Charlotte's Sound and the famous wine growing region of the Marlborough. 

As I have six long hours here to wait, I don't think I can manage six coffees, so I have rung Bluebridge Ferries to  see if I can get a stand-by on the two o'clock departure, arriving in Wellington at four fifteen. This would be much better to allow me to get to my Sunday dance which I would have missed. We'll see what happens, I should realise that my energies are well in advance of the local speed so I'd best calm down a little. 

Mmnn, perhaps I shouldn't have ordered that last coffee! However too late, it has arrived and my earnestness has won over the barista and the coffee is steaming hot, with a good crema and hot milk on the side. It may be the best coffee I've had this weekend.

There is a cute Railway Station at Picton, which I believe has trains which go all the way down to Invercargill. Sounds like a great trip to do one day.

Below, I noticed the total independent camper, perfectly kitted-out, also taking the Bluebridge ferry to Wellington. New Zealand is the perfect country to learn how to travel well, and lightly. The young people today, with the advantage of the latest design and technology, use it with finesse, and make independent travelling seem like a breeze, at least this boy does.

 

Yippee, in the end I managed to get a tiny upgrade to secure me a ticket on the two pm ferry to arrive in time for tonight's dance, Bravo!

Below, how young people socialise on the ferry crossing.....

Philomena - Irish and pregnant

Below is the diamond I met last night, Kuzun, from Sri Lanka, is a very old Soul, and is the lodger at A's large house. We chatted for a couple of hours and time stood still and I'm sure we'll keep in contact. He is Buddhist by upbringing, and a seeker, by nature, so he has many places to go. We happily exchange identical spiritual beliefs. A. the hostess, was a different scene, she's a beginner at BnB and learning with difficulty, but her house is an absolute delight.

 I had a great night's sleep then off to Montgomery Square Saturday Markets for the morning look. It was so hot and so busy, I soon repaired to Cafe Affair on Trafalgar St, which is now giving me my first coffee of the Nelson visit. Sad to say my first taste at the street market was of an Austrian Apfel Strudel, and it was quite disappointing, in spite of the big smile offered by the Austrian cook behind the counter, whose proud Kiwi husband was very happy to accept the five dollars. The Europeans have descended on Nelson with a vengeance, and are selling their wares in a similar way. But I also tried a delightful, if unnecessary, Maori fried bread topped with butter and golden syrup, 'Kai with Aloha', Food with Love, it was described as, and I believe them. It was delicious, and at only three dollars made up for the Strudel rip-off.

Kuzun, relaxed, at 78 Quebec Road

Cafe 'Affair' on Trafalgar Street

I have a late brunch at the Affair, a curiously named large establishment with several shotguns suspended from the walls, and an old French-style bicycle you can see in photo. The eggs florentine I ordered were very much their own recipe, and I wouldn't try them again. However I observed the locals, all of who seemed affluent and enjoying being out, although the table next to mine was obviously a French one. The Christchurch Saturday newspaper on offer filled me with the South Island news, nothing riveting, and I decided to have another stroll to look at street fare, picking up some food for tomorrow on the way,  as I leave at at the first crow at 8 am and arrive home not till 10 pm tomorrow night.

On my way, I stumble across the State Cinema, memories come back of the Hobart cinema of the same name, and  discover that 'Philomena' is showing at 6 pm, a movie on my recent wish- list. As it fits in with everything I am doing, I decide to take it in, as one of the necessities of living anywhere for me, is a good movie house. The session is nearly booked out, with silver-tailed oldies no doubt, so I buy a lone ticket and will enjoy Steve Coogan and Judi Dench, yet again, at 6 pm. I'm sure our workshop will be well over by that time, and I will be graciously excused.

But first, the Acres of Diamonds, the original reason for me coming to Nelson.

Saturday Matinee for the local boys, with Mum.

Three hours later...

...and a six o'clock session for me. Philomena was excellent, but then can Stephen Frears ever make a bad movie? I think it's a worthy and well-made movie which attempts to excoriate the Irish Catholics at their inhuman (sic) treatment of young unmarried mothers in the fifties and sixties. Judi Dench does a great job at personalising this true story, and I won't reveal the ending, just go and see it, as it is still relevant. Four Stars.

My 'Acres' was a repeat event, but well worth the visit, and I did taste the best cocoanut non-cheese cake I've ever eaten. Thanks Sarah! A good end to my Nelson visit.

Nelson - pretty as a picture

After a two and a half hour bus ride through some lush countryside, and notably past the birthplace of famed atomic scientist Lord Rutherford, in a little hamlet called Havelock, I arrive in balmy afternoon sunshine in the prettiest of towns, called Nelson.

As I am much earlier than expected, I decided to test the local food before calling on my host who lives a little out of town. I stroll up the main street and see the strange architecture of the Anglican Cathedral on the hill, walk back and stop at this cafe for a light meal.

After a warm chicken salad the young lady owner comes outside and asks me how it is. 'Perfect,' I reply, and it was. She then proceeds to tell me what attractions are here in Nelson, and that it's only called a city by dint of possessing this Cathedral on the hill, which she tells me I must visit, so off I must go. Feeling fortified, I am ready to attack the quite steep hill where it is built, towering over, or perhaps protecting, in its special Anglican way, a very Anglican-feeling town. Not too many Maori I can see, but then it's early days. Perhaps tomorrow at the Markets in Montgomery Square I'll see some real local colour.

A Christmas tree and a stained-glass window in the exceptionally large Cathedral.

 The Cathedral is quite stark, in the Protestant way, but having been commenced in 1820 and finished in the 1960s it has a special undefinable character. And today, it doesn't have just one enormous bejewelled Christmas tree right in the nave, but lining all the walls are about twenty very original trees which are part of an exhibition, all created by local groups and charitable institutions. Together they soften the stoney atmosphere and give the gigantic space a real and sympathetic community feeling.

I think if I lived in Nelson I would have to become an Anglican!

On leaving the building I finish walking around the circumference, as the hill on which it is perched, is actually a wonderful park, full of exotic and very large trees. The sun is shining and I see others lying on the grass so I think I'll follow suit. But not before a necessary visit to a convenient place below the huge steps which, by the way, are a fabulous entry way to visit the Cathedral. And these conveniences, uni-sex of course, have the most recent Dyson hand-dryer, such a sophisticated town!

My host has called and will pick me up somewhere in the city, so I had better start walking. It has been a nice introduction to a most pretty town. 

The Cathedral park

View from my host's home on Quebec Road

I asked for a bed lamp, got an Arab with a scimitar!

The Voyage to the South Island

This morning I arrived on the excellent 'Kaitaki' (the Challenger) ferry in a bit of a nervous state, having seen sailing majestically out of the Harbour the same Interislander Ferry whilst on my bus at seven thirty to get to the city wharf. How could it leave now, at 7.30, and then also at nine, I wondered, but I held my breath and hoped my ticket was valid for the nine a.m. departure. Sure enough, on arrival at the station the shuttle bus for two dollars was waiting for me, and it was stuffed with back-packers. The holiday season had started, and probably today. The bus driver reassured me the ferry I had seen was a freighter!  Stop worrying, me! Luckily I had booked my ticket well in advance, as the holiday crowds announce a busy crossing. 

I take the escalator high up to the ship's deck and find a comfy reclinable armchair and buy a small coffee to start my day. It will be a long one as I now am scheduled to arrive at Nelson at 8.45pm, with a new bus time from Picton. The ferry is booked to the full, confirming my presumptions, so no taking two seats. There are many foreign accents to be heard and a real feeling of expectancy that only a summer holiday could bring. Happily A. is picking me up at the bus terminal at Nelson which is very kind of her, a nice way to start my mini- holiday.

The ferry is a typical large one, reminds me of the Dover /Boulougne ferry in Europe. Already a nice feeling of travel. Witi would have enjoyed this departure feeling! It was a smooth ticketing really, a quick boarding pass collected from a smiling attendant on the wharf, amidst all the bustle of Christmas holidays, and then immediate boarding on this wonderful ship. I have been gazing for months at these ferries, cruising in all sorts of weather across the always unpredictable Cook Straits, from my bedroom window. Today is quite a consummation, and the weather is perfect, a sunny smooth crossing! I have brought The Matriarch to read, one of Witi's classics, so I am not going to be bored on this trip, whatever happens. Am quietly excited....I suddenly look up and see we are passing through the heads and I didn't even know we had quit the harbour.

Early arrivals studying with intent...

The prow of the Kaitaki cruising through the straits.

My food for the crossing...

I take the opportunity to stroll through the many decks and see what's going on. It is very efficient, this Interislander Ferry, with lots to entertain the kids or the bored adults. However just the sun-drenched view from the outside upper decks is enough to make you gasp. It is such a beautiful day and passing out through  the heads at Wellington is sublime. How lucky I am with the weather and the holiday crossing! I resume my reading at another seat, this time with a window where I can see the snow-covered peaks of the mountains in the South island at a long distance. They seem ethereal in their hazy, painterly way, and perhaps one day I will be lucky enough to visit them. Soon the ferry will enter Queen Charlotte's Sound, with the picturesque Picton ready to introduce its beauty.

The lighthouse at the entrance to Queen Charlotte's Sound

Disembarking from the trusty Kaitaki I see the Intercity bus waiting for Nelson and although my booking is for the 6.30pm departure, the driver quickly signs me aboard. I now have an extra afternoon to discover Nelson. Picton, pretty though it is, can wait till Sunday.

Inch'Allah - the movie

Palestine - do you want to go there? This movie will affect you one way or another, and I decided to see it before my trip to Nelson.

And yes, it was shot at the Wall in Palestine, and also in Israel, and I do not want to go there, to either place I'm sorry. A hand-held camera put me off from the start, and there was a not very endearing main character, who was a Canadian female doctor working in Palestine but living in Israel, and her problems of resolving her friendships and her profession. I think I must agree with the sentiment of the Palestinian woman who suicided after her baby's death, that the doctor would have done better to stay out of their lives.The best I could say about the movie (it was banned at the Melbourne Film Festival because it showed Israel in a bad light!) is that it was a fair showing of the horror of both sides of this awful situation in the Middle East. But it was also badly directed and could have been a wonderful movie, as it showed a part of the world I am now never likely to experience. 

A disappointing two stars.

It was nice to emerge into the twilight of Courtenay Place, with quiet Christmas drinking reminding me how lucky we are here in Kiwi-land, and Oz.

I took a pic (below) outside the Paramount Cinema, much simpler!

A Gilded Cage

Am gearing up for my weekend in Nelson which I am sure will be a mini-adventure. Alison, my host at the BnB I have booked, has kindly offered to pick me up when I arrive from Picton on the coach. It will be at 8.15 pm so I will have a personal introduction to Nelson. On Saturday the ECK workshop with friends, and then early on Sunday morning, coach to Picton and then return ferry at 7pm to see Wellington harbour by night. I hope the weather is good!

In the meantime I have seen the much touted French picture of the year, 'The Gilded Cage', of course at my Lighthouse Cuba cinema. It was worthy of the hype and very enjoyable, I can now relate to good Sydney friend P, who had insisted I would LOVE it. It was a feel-good movie, but not in the schmalzy American sense. 

It had a classic situation of a Portuguese family  in Paris making a living, but only just, and in the service of their 'better' Parisian employers. who, of course aren't better, but just unhappier. Maria, is 'La Gardienne', the concierge of an upmarket apartment block, and Jose the foreman in a building enterprise which is soon to go broke. They have two bright kids, both of whom have become so Frenchified and each one has a Parisian partner, one of whom just happens to be the son of the owner of the enterprise Jose works for. 

The plot hinges on an inheritance they have just been informed of, with a great family property in Portugal there for them, but only on condition they live in it, meaning, leaving Paris and their friends. And the kids don't want them to leave, their employers hate the possibility, and they, being the lovely couple they are, feel they should sacrifice themselves for the others. Sometimes this is not the best idea, as they soon discover they have  been much used by their Parisian 'friends', and that it is time to do what they want. There is much to-ing and fro-ing with deceptions and subterfuge, but it all ends happy-ever-after in the Hollywood style, but not too indigestible. Four stars.

However the movie I really want to see next is 'Inch'Allah' a Palestinian movie F raved about. I look forward to seeing that next week, after Nelson. But below, some pics of Oriental Bay, gorgeous ay?

A bit like Brighton in Melbourne

Walking the boardwalk near Oriental Parade

A cruise ship in waiting at popular Wellington harbour

The Workers

Drama yesterday when housemate F informed me the workers were invading her space i.e. they carelessly took her bin filled with her garden tools and proceeded to 'top it up' with debris and rubbish, ignoring that it may not be the right thing to do. As No.One worker wasn't there this morning,  I approached the other one S, and explained it may have been the wrong thing  to do. Mr. Gruff then emptied the bin into the other one, which was completely empty, and grumbled off. He wasn't happy to have been told anything contrary to his 'normal' practice. It's a different world with the tradies. However it will sharpen him up, just a little, maybe? Perhaps not.

Today I have a meeting with Volunteers Wellington  to see if we can liaise with them and BP to do something during next year. It will probably mean a volunteer job somewhere for me. J and C turned up and we all sat with a cuppa and orange cake I had brought. They were very interested in BP and we exchanged info and ideas. Nothing concrete but some seeds were sown.

Returned home to find things not too honky dory with S. He had confronted F and felt she had over reacted..not the best way to approach F. However it's done now and I will have to mend bridges with C tomorrow. S is super sensitive and I didn't read him right - however he'll get over it. We are all different breeds, with different sensibilities.

Our man S on the job...

Tonight was an extra night of Scottish Dance practice for the traditional Hogmanay. It was in Wadestown, a new suburb for me. I travelled by bus and train with  Dervisher B and we had a good time on a beautiful lawn at the rear of a home where I was able to stroke a lovely black and white pussy cat. It revived my desires, and intentions, to have a cat in my house next year. The sixteen dancers, all of a certain age, were all dedicated SCDers.

Wellington Christmas Buzz

The summer weather seems finally to have arrived and the boys are bathing in Oriental Bay. I have had an already packed weekend and it's still not over. It began with the Dervish Dancing on Friday night, quite spectacular, and my friend B at the tender age of near 70s was twirling with the best of them. I was very impressed and they invited me and the other 'lovers' present to share the food afterwards. 

The venue was in the kitchen of this grand home in Thorndon which I then discovered had been sold to the Wellington Studies Group by former iconic Lord Mayor, and artist, Michael Fowler. The whirling was done on a large parquetry floor which once, I am sure, had many a dancing foot on it at the Fowlers' many 'at home' parties. Again the smallness of Wellington. They are a lovely group of many nationalities and the following day at Te Papa where there was a 'Listen-In' choral fest, I saw one of them singing as well as playing the key board. Such an energetic woman and a European beauty to boot.

This concert at Te Papa was a great event. I was alerted to it by J, our choir mistress, and now she may regret telling me as one of the choirs I absolutely fell in love with. On enquiry, they rehearse the same night as the Glamaphones. It may be a sign to change choirs, I was, after all, getting a little  disenchanted with the ambience of this choir, perhaps my expectations were too high. The  smaller choir, named WOSISI, do a lot of African and Maori singing, with movement, which attracts me a lot.   I'm keen to sing Maori, and be in a smaller more dedicated choir. It will be difficult to take my leave, so I'll just have to think about that later.

Later on Saturday I caught the movie at the Cuba Lighthouse about the fabled back-up singers in the US, called 'Twenty feet from Stardom'. It was excellent and showed the absolute talent of those who are not always in the spotlight. I will tell J about it  when I write my letter of resignation, I know she would love it, that's if she takes any time to relax over the silly season.

On my way home after the movie I had an unexpected invitation from a Phillipine man who invited me joyously to join them all in a street celebration and barbecue for Christmas. He belonged to a Christian group and wanted to spread good cheer. I had already eaten at Mama Brown's so my tummy did not allow me to indulge in his kindness. But it was a typical statement of Wellington generosity I thought, and one which stayed with me for a wee while. See, I'm already becoming Kiwi!

Today after shopping at the Victoria Street  market I am back home to do a few Christmas phone calls, otherwise I just won't have time, after all, next weekend I am in Nelson and then it's Christmas and Vinegar Hill. The madness of this season, even when I try to avoid most of it. Spoke to sister in Perth who actually posted me a present, against my instructions, and it probably won't arrive till after Christmas, given the inefficiency of the local posting system.

A choir at Te Papa, with Dervish Whirler friend in black at keyboard...

The ballroom at Fowler's former mansion, yesterday filled with Whirling Dervishes. 

The amazing Philippine choir in the Marae at Te Papa

Invitation to a barbie in streets of W.

The Concert

In Wanganui there was a spooky feeling in the Victorian-era Opera House, which was made all the more evident in the disappointingly half empty cavernous space, with all its original details still intact, although the worse for wear. The Steinway Grand sat imposingly alone on the deep, weathered stage, a red spotlight outlining its classic features. Our two front seats were at a perfect angle to see the maestro's fingers work their magic, and we had the row to ourselves.

A couple of minutes after the starting time an impeccably attired smallish man walked briskly onto the stage   briefly acknowledging the warm applause give by the faithful few. Wanganui had not come out in force to hear its most brilliant exponent of Beethoven. But G and I were there to hear him play four beautiful Sonatas, one of which, the most familiar Pathetique, was instantly recognised and at the end Michael was welcomed back for a second bow. The audience was good and receptive, but the small numbers in the large chamber was not conducive to a rapturous result. But it was very satisfying and later we followed a lady back stage to pay our compliments. He was alone in his dressing room and was gracious as we stayed only a minute to express our thanks.

On walking home it was strange to think how strong the Beethoven presence had been, and now we were in somewhat philistine Wanganui streets.  G walked me back to The Grand Hotel and said goodnight, we were seeing each other for a look at the coast in the morning. As I mounted the oaken staircase to the first floor, I looked down and caught sight of a small black besuited man followed by a white bearded friend walking a few steps behind, entering the Irish Bar. Michael Houstoun obviously did need to come down after such a virtuosic performance, and it was here that he and his friend had chosen to come. Discreetly I went in to my bedroom to watch some Maori Television, leaving them to have private drinks. It was a good way for me to end a very interesting evening in Wanganui.

I'm sure I'll return one day for another visit to Wanganui, as my conversation the following day with G at his Castlecliff beach home was only a prologue.The beach which he showed me at Castlecliff had black iron filled sand, and was bleak, but somehow was quite mesmerising, with small but relentless Tasman waves breaking onto an empty but driftwood strewn stretch of sand, which ironically cast my mind to think of the Yorkshire Moors in Charlotte Bronte's 'Jane Eyre'. 

Tonight, however, I am to have my first experience of witnessing the 'Whirling Dervishes', which is apparently a very popular pastime for some in Wellington, including my friend B from Scottish Dancing, who has kindly invited me to attend. 

We are celebrating the anniversary of the most famous Persian Sufi of them all, the much-loved poet of   love, Jalal al-Din Rumi.

Wanganui Trip

A prompt departure at on the Intercity coach at 10 am, with a rather gruff voiced mid-European accented driver at the wheel. The day is drizzly but nice to get out of the city, high temperatures are predicted, and that means twenty-one or two for down here. Managed to attain the front seat, and next to me is Reserved, in big letters, for the driver's passenger list. Sacred. 

Last night's Malaysian meal went well, and the three Indio-Malaysians were very happy with their reception in Wellington. They're being well looked after. However I didn't digest the chicken sambal too well, and confirmed the fact that I am a picky eater. So be it. I'll be ultra careful in Wanganui as I don't want to burp through Michael Houstoun's stellar performance. And I discover he is a personal friend of Viva's Mum so I now have an entree there.

But a phone all from L just before I rushed to leave  made me take a quick detour to BP on the way to the station where the coach leaves from. The BP information flyer was prepared and on a quick proof read I discovered, as always, a typo, a misspelling of the famous Courtenay Place. Easy to miss, as it is quite a strange spelling. The flyer, btw, is fantastic, and was in part due to a press release I had prepared after the Media seminar the other day, which also has a follow up on Monday. So things are heading in the right direction, and fast.

A change of drivers at Palmy North results in a more bluff than gruff Kiwi of a grand stature who makes himself known immediately to all and sundry. During the next hour and half trip he acknowledges and waves to at least thirty or so other vehicles, all rather large ones of course, but he just knows everyone, whereas our earlier driver seemed oblivious to everything.

 The trip winds down through beautiful green lamb covered hills, indeed a delight on the eyes. Wanganui appears and it was exactly as last time. I find the Opera House in five minutes, pick up my tickets and then descend onto the Grand Hotel which looms at the end of the same street. Checked in immediately and see Irish bars everywhere, and photos of ancient Rugby Gods on the walls. The hotel is most likely owned by an All Black. I find my crisp white room and collapse on the very soft queensized bed  and quickly fall asleep. I knew I needed a nap.  Refreshed an hour or so later I descend to the foyer to pick up the password for the Wifi. All is good and my emails are replied to. However I can't find G's phone number but peu importe, I am seeing him at six in the foyer for a quick bite.

In the meantime I take a stroll around the town, it's not difficult to cover it in half an hour. The museum is closed at four thirty unfortunately, but the mammoth tree in the park is worth much more than any remains in a museum. It is one of the most majestic trees I have ever seen, possibly because of its position on the hilly side of the main park. I do a few photos and and sit in the street on a convenient bench to finish this.  Hear a female voice, French accented, asking me where the Information Centre is. As I don't know, I hail a local who kindly says it's on the river bank. I wish the heavily laden SUV 'Bonnes Vacances' and receive a smiling 'Merci' in response. The French love New Zealand.

The chimes of the town clock remind me I have half an hour to shower and change before dinner and the concert. The weather is sultry and a few tiny drops of rain try to squeeze on to the rather dry street scape. It is good weather for Beethoven.

Leaving a wet Wellington

A rather lush foyer at the aptly named Grand Hotel

Te Aro

Strolling up Aro street to discover a rare Vinnie's, and eureka, it was there on the corner and had a great Hawaiian shirt for me to use at Vinegar Hill! Also lucked out with a juicer, which of course, I had left in Hobart. So now I can do some healthy juices for my afternoon tea party, whenever I do it. I haven't really been in this nook before, but it is only a ten minute walk from the city, and quite quaint, leading up into the hills behind the city.

Just spent earlier, some time at BP to organise my application for the 2014 International AIDS Conference in Melbourne next July.  I am told that I will be a delegate from Wellington, but need to get a recent CV together to submit. Lesley again, was a great help. 

This morning I had to escape the workers again as they are now hell-bent on finishing the job, which means arriving early and leaving late, and making a big noise while they are there. Oh, well it won't last forever...

Good bakery in Te Aro so bought a loaf to try.

Tried a lemon and honey at local caff - it was extra good!

Amusing feminist reaction to Mick Jagger's lips!

I just discovered that one, Alan Wickens from Aotea, has written to the Dominion Post saying exactly my thoughts about the dreary lack of Christmas decor and lights in the centre of this wonderful city. He has inspired me to write as well. Wellington needs to show off what it has, and that is a sparkling shopping precinct and great nightlife in its centre.

On the other side I also read that the Aussie tennis coach I spoke about, reported lost in Hamilton, was seen wandering into the river, somewhat disturbed, and no-one has yet found him. That teaches me not to jump to conclusions, I only hope he is found, and treated, for something is very wrong there. His parents have come from Melbourne to help find him. We'll see what emerges. I am more than happy to withdraw my comments about gay bashing in NZ if what is wrong is this person's mental state. Life is never simple for a talented young Jewish boy from Melbourne.

It is four-thirty and I am being gently removed from the Te Aro cafe - they don't keep late hours here. But tonight I am happily warned we are all eating out after our regular Wednesday night HU song. A group of Malaysian ECKists have arrived from Auckland and D and V have suggested it is time to have a Chinese, or Malaysian, more to the point. So it will be a nice night, and manana, I am off to Wanganui for the big Beethoven Concert which I am so much looking forward to. What to wear, God only knows! I'll play safe with all black, with my new (old) black leather hoodie. I'm sure the Wanganui opera buffs won't look too askance at me when I arrive, besides, I'm sure G won't be dressing up too much.

Summer morning in Downtown Wellington

It is a beautiful balmy day about twenty degrees and I have escaped the noise and mayhem of the two elderly painters at my house. City library calls but I am caught just before I make there, to have a traditional coffee/croissant at Cafe Felix, named after, I suppose, the Cat.

The news in The Dominion Post is pretty banal, as usual. People not getting claims for legitimate PTSD, a wealthy restaurateur trying to keep his niche restaurant when the council wants to cater for the average Joe Blo. This is an interesting point, as Wellington has such an egalitarian society it is a pity when choice venues on the waterfront cater only for those who have enough disposable income to  afford their quite high prices. I am all for the change suggested.

But a disturbing piece of news which struck me to the core, was the reported missing of a young tennis professional instructor from Australia who had been coaching in Hamilton. His disappearance smacks strongly of a 'gay bashing', as there is no other explanation for it. He did have a wallet full of cash apparently.These events are indeed rare, but the fact that they occur at all is a subject of great concern to minority groups such as gays, and should be to society in general. I am wondering what follow-up will occur after this 'disappearance' becomes perhaps, a mortality. New Zealand is obsessed with reporting sport with its accompanying triumphs and disasters, but such things as gay bashings may still not warrant the air space.

Btw, we had our final Six on Six meeting last night when the Auckland Body Positive CEO gave an excellent report on the state of 'disclosure of status' in New Zealand. This position has gone from archaic to reasonable, where now the onus is on everyone to behave responsibly, sexually. B was a fount of knowledge and is certainly on the coal-face in this fight against the spread of HIV. It was a stimulating and informative session to end with. We are all sorry it is over for the year.

Finally I get to the City Library where there happens to be a sale on of old books, CDs and DVDs and it's quite a good one. I buy a DVD biopic of Ray Charles, which I have long wished to see, and a CD of Jose Carreras singing fabulous arias - what nice things to take home.  

On the shelves I hunt for more Witi Ihimaera books and find The Matriarch and Dear Miss Mansfield - they should keep me going for a while, and then I see perched on a shelf all alone, a book called 'Between Men' a modern anthology of best gay short stories; there are sure to be some I have not yet read, so I take it home too. Its foreword, which I read immediately, by English writer Richard Canning, is exhaustive and fascinating. There has been so much 'gay lit' out there in the last three decades that a lot just passes under the normal radar. I now have lots of holiday reading to do. This library is very user friendly and I can easily spend a half day here and it just disappears in a moment.

Oh, btw, did I mention my Nelson Christmas house sitting job which I had enquired about at least three weeks ago, has come through with a belated request to 'please come'. I balefully reply, 'sorry, too late'.That may be a Kiwi way of doing business but not mine, at this stage anyway, perhaps later I may become a little more kiwified! lol! 

Below, the Michael Fowler Centre, the major concert hall in Wellington which is..

...next to the old Town Hall, now being refurbished...

...opposite (below) the cafe Felix

The day after

Could not believe we survived the 130km/ hr gale winds of yesterday and today is a pussycat of a day, even too hot! 

I have come into town for the final Six On Six meeting and am having a moment at my old friend Midnight Espresso. It just never changes, and still does an excellent hot honey and lemon drink.

The Post-mortem from Saturday's BBQ was that with the right enthusiasm and people, you can make a success out of any event, however bad the weather may turn out to be. Of course in the case of Wellington, people are well and truly used to adversity, so my pampered upbringing doesn't really permit me to say much. I just have to 'man-up' as they say, like all the others.

However today the man involved was my landlord who came to the house for inspection of the 'work in progress', as I had told him I feared it would be months before it is finished. What with the  workers' hours and vagaries of the weather, it wasn't an unreasonable supposition, but not one I fancied for the duration of the festive season. Whatever the result, he will see that the house is in a sorry state of neglect, and needs more than he had expected to render it presentable. Such is the fate of the wealthy land-owner, which indeed, Mr P. is. In Wellington he is known for his large portfolio of properties, but he never lets on that he has a penny. It is not unusual in the world of high finance I know. Say no more!

My position of renter actually gives me more freedom than most have to make decisions to move on when I see fit, but if ever that happens in Wellington, it will have to be a damn good reason to move on, as this city gets more and more under your skin, in the best possible way.

My favourite drink at M. Espresso

The island on 'Island Bay'.

Who's that man with the Charlie Chaplin moustache?

Lesley has turned out to be a great force for good with BP and you can feel his energy in this photo taken at the BBQ.

BP Christmas BBQ at Island Bay

I'm having a coffee at Cafe Scopa and it's a welcome relief from the gale force winds which sprang up yesterday and practically blew me into the bay, again. Today I think I have learned that lesson, go back with the northerly, up the hundred steps and catch the 14 bus from Roseneath school. Well that's what I did today and it works. I am on my way to the final ECK discussion in Wellington for the year.

But back to yesterday's BBQ in the gale at Island Bay.

I had long wanted to see this mysterious Island Bay, as people had told me how lovely it was. They're right, it is quite beautiful in a small way, but it wasn't small yesterday and our group of about eighteen from BP braved the elements to establish, in the stone hexagonal shelter which was built for bands I am sure, a small area for food which we tried to keep from blowing away.

 We had qualified success, but as always, in the the face of problems, everyone rallied and we all had a fabulous time. Presents were hilariously passed around (everyone brought a small one for distribution) and B, the CEO from Auckland, even flew down for it and was lucky his plane was permitted to land. This weather is so unpredictable. I had good chats with people I hadn't spoken much with, and feel now I would like to open my doors for a festive event at my place. I was even presented, as were most attendees, with a Certificate of Appreciation for support during the establishment of BP in Wellington. I was quite chuffed as I am an Aussie blow- in!

BP has been an undoubted success due in the main to B and R who instigated the outreach from Auckland where it had been going well for a few years. Needless to say one of the stars of the day was my Maori friend and ballroom dancer supremo, H, who showed how much he has to offer the world in his good nature and great style. H was getting more relaxed and told me some fascinating stories of his earlier life - there is lots more to hear from this exceptional man.

Cafe Scopa, reminiscing about Maori grandma's wisdom.

Stopping at The Laundry for a Chai latte before Sunday's Ballroom Dancing

Some interesting design features at this converted laundry. Where IS this customer going??

Tosca on Cuba

High drama today with an amazing rendition from the Met Opera of Puccini's masterpiece Tosca. 

Sung with Patricia Racette in the title role, this opera was made all the sexier with the very popular tenor Roberto Alagna playing a superb Cavaradossi. 

At the small Lighthouse Cinema I was the only man in an audience of six, comfortable in our armchairs for this three and a half hour Napoleonic melodrama with Art, love, jealousy, murder and suicide on the agenda, all stuff of High Opera. I thoroughly enjoyed the High Definition production with Renee Fleming being our more than gracious and knowledgeable host, talking us through the plot and introducing us to the stars. What better way to see a world class opera, and for a quarter the cost, than in the most comfy atmosphere of one's own hometown.

Feeling the need to digest the lavish production I have decided to take a hot lemon honey drink at my local bar The Library, today served not by a Farrah, but  by a very young Alain Delon, a heavily French accented young waiter. Again at five pm I am the first here, which I like, and the quiet background music is always to my taste. It's funny how retro the kids are in Wellington, they really know my taste. Last week it was Adele, as well one of my very favourites.

At five-thirty and the bar is fast filling with young people, it is Friday afternoon after all, and the Christmas season is nearly here, although there are sadly few decorations in the streets of Wellington, something which is a bit disappointing as there is a great opportunity to deck these lovely streets with some fabulous lights, like in Paris. Oh well, one day I'll just have to get on the city council!

Above flowers and tragedy at the Cuba Lighthouse

Last night was my last appearance with the Glamaphones, a final rehearsal for the Christmas Carols for Sunday, a gig which I just discovered I can't do as I double booked an unmissable ECK event. So be it, I can always sing next year. The rehearsal was at the regional Porirua Art Gallery/ Museum, called Pataka, and I went early with one of the altos who offered me a lift. We checked out the Art and I discovered my friend's photos in one of the exhibitions. Three degrees of separation in Wellington, some say only two!

I decide to have a second honey drink, and my French waiter confesses he is Italian, oh well, I think Delon was half Italian anyway! The place is now suddenly full and buzzing with chirpy conversation. The weather is good, tomorrow is Saturday so all is happy in this little paradise.

A few words on my alto singer friend, who tells me on the way home she has a daughter in Auckland, given to her, a little unwillingly I felt, by a black Jamaican during her fifteen years OE (overseas experience) when she lived and worked in New York, strangely the same time that I was there in 1969. I hazard a thought that our experiences there were a tad different although we did have the Jamaican in common! She's been back a while in NZ and finds it hard now she's nearing retirement age to find a good place to live. I told her not to sweat the small stuff, she worries too much. I think she took it on board, but I thought her experience might echo a few of local talented lassies trying to make in the big OS. After all, we are all a bit naive, in the Antipodes!

After-work kids having their cocktails at The Library.