Gotham

Am in Gotham, that's right, Gotham City in Chew's Lane in downtown Wellington. Happily now restricted to walking everywhere I am felicitously discovering a few new haunts.  This caff is certainly not gothic but it does have extremely high ceilings and a wall picture somewhat resembling a New York skyscape. On the other hand, one of the bartenders wears a T-shirt with 'My awesomeness may be infectious'. He happens to be about 1.88m tall and a girth nearly as wide. And his smile matches his girth. I decide to try a chai latte which I had recently somewhere and it was nice. I forget to order it 'very hot', so the lukewarm result is quickly downed. So many baristas feel we oldies like our drinks cooler, perhaps so we won't burn our lips! Enough grumpy old man....

At lunch today at BP I felt like an elder as I decided to show the few who had come, the dvd of the Academy Award winning 'The Times of Harvey Milk'. It always touches me as it took the incredible double murder of a San Francisco Mayor and the gay Supervisor Harvey Milk to make some of the American public aware of their built-in prejudices. It was a wonderfully shot doco and richly deserved its award. I believe it is a must-see for any young person especially if they are struggling with their sexuality. It is inspirational and at times uplifting in spite of its rather tragic story.

I have a very busy weekend ahead and have just decided to add to it a Symphony Concert by NZSO at the Michael Fowler Centre. Unfortunately the Town Hall next to it, which houses reputedly the third best acoustics of a concert hall in 'the world', is closed with its four hundred organ pipes being refurbished and the building itself undergoing a further forty-three million dollar earthquake improvement. It should be worth waiting for so I will have to wait four years before I get the chance to hear the NZSO on its home ground.

The Gotham is obviously an evening wine bar as it is slowly filling with cool young people, winding down after a hard week's work in Wellington. And I am preparing for a big weekend. Perhaps more about that on Sunday. 

Having collected a programme for the New Zealand Festival 2014 which just came out, I am perusing a copy on the table. There is a great selection of artistic works and I look forward to sampling at least a few, if they are affordable. However one needs to be earning a good salary to really savour all that Wellington has to offer. I relax and notice the seventies anthem 'Hotel California' which is filtering out through the Gotham's muzak. Ironically it is a gentle reminder that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Now on to the bus to get to Kilbirnie for the 7 o'clock Friday night HU chant, always a good way to finish the week.

City Library

Killing time is not difficult in Wellington City Library, or in its always very busy cafe, to be precise. 

The cafe is situated on the mezzanine level of this well stocked library and I have just taken out a DVD on Harvey Milk for a week. The double set has many extras and although I have already seen it, I'm sure it will be well worth seeing again. 

I cannot help overhearing my adjacent table where seven young literature enthusiasts have chosen to discuss their latest book club find. The conversation is lively, a variety of accents appear, and it is just seems to be a classic example of the intellectual fabric in this city. It all looks so natural, as though everyone has coffee together and talks about the latest best-seller, or perhaps even, an abstruse sociopathic thriller. I'm quite sure they are all budding writers, one of whom one day might even win the Man Booker Prize, although there are a few American accents among them.

As usual I have my honey, lemon and ginger drink, preparing my throat for tonight's choral singing on The Terrace. I'm happy to say my plans for the Christmas outing have firmed as there are some people with transport who are coming and we will make a jolly car full non-christmas vacationers.  It is a mobile-free zone at Vinegar Hill, somewhere I am sure my young literary friends would never survive as I see they have just brought out their latest smart- phones and the conversation has now radically switched to hi-tech talk. Such is the reality of real time with the youth of today.

And now appears on my right another table of writers, this time they are men of a certain age, and who are actually writing on paper with pens. One I notice, has taken off his battered top hat and has rested his black jacket heavily decorated with plastic lizards on the back of his chair. He and his three mates are all seriously writing. I notice their watches are doffed and lying on the table. I think they may be doing a speed-writing exercise, or perhaps collaborating on writing the next kiwi blockbuster film script.  Another piece of Wellington creativity.

Christmas plans askew

Melbourne Cup day over means that Christmas is in the offing and as it's my least favourite time of the year I am planning to escape somewhere but not sure where. My plan was to do a House-sit but I think I have left it too late, all the good ones are gone and I really wasn't prepared anyway. There is always Vinegar Hill campout which was my earlier option and that is still there and could well be the answer. Just need transport which could easily turn up. If the weather is fine that might be perfect, or at least a fascinating adventure into the mad alternate culture that certainly exists in these windy isles.

Pic above is where I am writing this blog, in bed on a grey somewhat wet November morn, awaiting the urge to bake a chocolate mud cake for the final Scottish Dance fling of the year. Have bought all the ingredients so it's a simple matter of warming the oven and melting the chocolate - all done.

Have been devouring some very interesting kiwi 'Memoirs', and they are worth commenting on as they have taught me a lot about the culture and richness of the fabric of life here, albeit with a few holes therein. The one I've most recently finished is by choreographer and modern dance supremo Douglas  Wright, and it is a great read. He is also an excellent writer and was shortlisted for this Memoir called 'Ghost-dance'.

 Although he is ten years younger than me his life seems to have been the double of mine already - he started very young. In youth falling into heavy drug use he was looked after by a famous old queen in Auckland who eventually directed him to his great love of dance, and from there he never looked back. After winning an audition among two hundred dancers  for the famed US modern dance company of Paul Taylor, he lead an incredible adventurous life touring the world before leaving Taylor and joining a talented compatriot Lloyd Newson in his innovative London company, DC8. From that, he returned to NZ and set up his own group but with ill health finally hung up his ballet slippers. It was the ogre of AIDS which stalked him but after many health episodes he is still there, somewhere hidden in the Auckland backwaters.

The book was written ten years ago so how he is now God only knows. What I found remarkable  was his similar spiritual growth to mine, although we ended up differently. I could have written his New York experiences myself, but mine were a little earlier. His return in triumph to NZ was  mixed blessing as after such an eclectic life OS there was little more to do, so he wrote this evocative memoir. One day it might be nice to meet him, if he's still around. His early abusive childhood may be typical of some of the backwoods culture that existed in NZ even in the sixties and seventies but his extraordinary talent won out and he became a veritable kiwi legend. Most of his friends have also passed away which is the sad case for many of us. 

The other two memoirs I read were both by non-Kiwis and so give a different slant which is equally valid and fascinating. An American with the auspicious name of Aaron Allbright wrote a tome called A Land near Oz, only because he discovered NZ by default after being at the Sydney Olympics in 2000.  But he became an ardent fan and soon moved holus-bolus, with male partner whom he officially married in legally advanced NZ. They subsequently both took Kiwi nationality, totally embracing their adopted country. 

It has a rather sad postscript as they invested in their dream home called 'Paradise', on Doubtless Bay on the top of the North Island, but soon after settling in their paradise, leukaemia hit in for Aaron and to get cutting-edge treatment they had to sell and relocate home to California. Such is our health system here. However he left us with an illuminating commentary of an outsider's look at a country which in many many ways he could never comprehend. Interestingly it was through the Maori context which he experienced in buying his property up north that he felt in tune with the country. It is very amusingly and racily written with lots of bold-faced type. I wonder if he'll ever return, but I'm afraid his prognosis was severe, and terminal.

The other book by Scot Tom McRae called ominously, 'If I should die' also has a sad postscript as Tom died a week after its publication in Auckland. It is a fascinating historical read about the emergence of AIDS in NZ and the problems he encountered with stigma and prejudice. As a Scot with a wry sense of humour it is an easy read also but happily we have well and truly moved on from those dark days in the eighties when cadavres were still considered 'infectious'. Poor Tom's legacy was just this book but he deserved more as he was a ground breaker and brought the public face of AIDS  into better repute.

So there's my reading for the past week and I can now smell my chocolate cake ready to be taken from the oven. A comforting smell on a still-cool and wet Wellington day.

Melbourne Cup Day

Well it is the first Tuesday in November, even though in Wellington this blog date insists it is only Monday!

So as it's Melbourne Cup Day I've gone to the biggest TV screen to look at the race. It's in the Four Kings gaming hotel on Courtenay Place and although it's not yet full, it's not empty either. There is quite a buzz with assorted young people aware of the importance of of this Holy Day in Oz. I have a feeling for Fiorente, with Mt Athos as runner up, as the stupendous horse flesh parade their style in front of the millions of viewers. But who knows, with the 'Cup'  any horse can be a chance.

Ten minutes later...

Well the Cup has just been run, and won, and guess by whom? Yep, you gottit, Fiorente first and Mt Athos only third, bad luck there. I should have had a bet ay?  Strange how fate gives me two winners in a foreign city and I can't even make a bet! C'est la vie.

I took this picture as Fiorente was being walked in to the enclosure, before the race, really!

I look out the window and see that the city has not stood still at all for this race, and suddenly feel a little homesick, as Cup Day is quintessentially an Aussie day.

Back to more mundane affairs, my morning was spent under the needle, so to speak, or many of them to be exact. Elanita, a catchily named acupuncturist from the USA, generously donated her expertise and time to working on a few of the boys from Body Positive, one of the many worthy ventures organised by BP Wellington. She was absolutely amazing, with such healing hands I have rarely experienced. She emigrated here with psychiatrist hubby from San Diego in search of a new life, away from the stresses of the great US of A. They have only been here five months and are finding getting accepted, especially with the Maori with whom her husband works, quite difficult, and I can imagine why. There is a vast cultural gap between the US and NZ. I can only commend their guts and wish them both well.

But before if finish, last night was quite a memorable first meeting of the 'Six on Six' chat group at BP. Organised by the CEO in Auckland, this smaller group was an interesting bunch, all telling their individual stories and all so very different. Although with the younger ones there was an unfortunate trope of becoming infected by predatory HIV stalkers, some of whom were caught and are now spending time behind bars. In earlier times, and not SO long ago ago, NZ was a dangerous place it seems, to be a gay man. But everyone agreed they have come out the other side and have no anger or animosity toward those perpetrators. Which is an excellent result as anger gets you nowhere, even the righteous kind.  It was a good meeting and there are five more so we'll see how they unfold.

ECK New Year

At Flashdog Studios for the celebration of the ECKANKAR New Year, which is officially October 22, and commemorated by the talk of the Spiritual Leader Sri Harold Klemp delivered at the Worldwide Seminar at Minneapolis. 

Today we get together, have a potluck lunch and then settle in to listen to Sri Harold's talk earlier recorded on the computer. There are ten of us in all and eight nationalities in that ten. Sri Harold's talk is always humorous, peppered with anecdotes which are relevant to people's everyday lives. They all have spiritual connections, showing tests that are spiritual experiences and how people learn through them.

But today there was as well, a rather upsetting story from one of the Kiwis present which resonated as an enormous test. G had just returned from Auckland where she had stayed with her sister. The night of her stay a tragic accident took the life of her sister's daughter at only forty years. The car her daughter was driving ran off the road at night in heavy rain and killed her instantly, leaving her two small daughters locked in their seat belts in the rear seat for over three hours before anyone discovered the wrecked car. How the the family survives this incredible awful accident remains to be seen. 

This story threw into light relief my recent experience when my scooter was stolen and trashed.How insignificant does that seem in comparison with my friend's story. Is there a good side to this horrible,seemingly  meaningless accident?

All of us lead varied lives, some more haphazard than others. Do we just wait and let fate deal us its ugly, or sweet, hand, or do we go out and grasp what we consider is rightfully ours? This is a question which I pose myself often, especially when so-called 'unjust' things happen to us. In the case in point, one may well ask what did these two babes, one only twelve months old, the other a six year old, do to lose their mother so tragically at this young age? And why did the mother have to go so soon and lose the pleasure and excitement of her two beloved girls? 

These are justly unfathomable questions if we don't take into account the possibility of past lives and re-incarnation, a belief system indulged in by the vast majority of this world's intelligent beings. As I count myself among that mass, I pause to consider the reasons for this recent tragedy which will affect many lives for the years to come. And there ARE reasons, but they are just too complex for the mere mind to understand, and this is where the sub-conscious, often manifested in the dream state comes into play. 

The 'father'of dream study, C G Jung, changed the world's attitude to dreams with his exhaustive research in this area.  Neglect dreams at your own peril, for it is here that many of life's conundrums are answered. In the case of this terrible 'accident', reasons for it will one day be forthcoming, it all depends on the allowing of life to be played as a drama in the context of LOVE, not with BLAME attached. For no-one is responsible, things happen just as they should for those concerned to enable them to unravel the complexities of their lives.  Perhaps we can look at our own lives in this context and discover why certain things are as they are?

More about this mystery in another blog...

Ferry crossing to Eastbourne

Beautiful morning dawns and plans to go on the harbour eventuate. The ferry trip to Eastbourne is only about a half hour but at least it's a start to seeing Wellington from the sea. No bookings are necessary and I just roll up at five to twelve for the midday departure. There are about twenty-five on board and most seem to want to have a picnic on the small uninhabited Soames island situated right in the middle of the harbour, which is our first stopover. But for me it's on to Eastbourne  where a good friend from Tassie used to live, and also I wanted to see Wellington city from a new perspective. It is quite beautiful and does live up to its publicity hype. 

Disembarking at the curiously named 'Days Bay',  I look at the map and see the Eastbourne village is still a twenty minute walk so I take the scenic road along the bay, checking out the architecture to which perhaps my builder friend Martin may have contributed in his day. A quick lunch stop at local cafe 'Vostro Gusto' is called for and also the obligatory coffee which is all quite OK, with very friendly service. Read the obituary to one of my generation's legendary rock singers Lou Reed, whose Satellite of Love composition still gives me goose bumps when I hear it. Walking on the wild side was my preference in the seventies too. Vale Lou Reed!

It's only a short trip from the city but here at Eastbourne you feel  you are in a holiday town, very laid back and happy. I see why my good friend Martin liked it here.

I may return by bus to have a look at that route as well. The springtime weather is here for a day at least, so I am making the most of it, as all Wellingtonians do.

Opera and The Library

A beautiful introduction to the rich and wonderful voice of fabulous Russian soprano Anna Netrebko was this 'Direct from the New York Met' production which I saw today at my favourite cinema, the Lighthouse on Cuba. The opera, Eugene Onegin, Tchaikovsky's most famous operatic work, was a great selection to start the Met season of globally watched operas. I have been waiting a while to catch up with my opera season as this was something I valued when living in Sydney and Melbourne. In the small salon seating only about forty, in softly upholstered armchairs, at this eleven a.m. session we were only eight in total, with the other single male present being an Arnold Schwarzenegger lookalike, in build but not in face, and wearing a T-shirt with the word 'Animal' scrawled across his enormous chest.

 The opera was magnificent and New York suddenly seemed very close. The poor tortured Tchaikovsky was well equipped to write this superb score to Pushkin's ultra sad story of love gone wrong in 19th Century Russia, with his own love-life having been totally denied. All the cast was spectacular, the two leading male singers from Poland were especially brilliant, both giving great and humble interviews during the programme, which is one of the many bonuses of watching the opera on HD cinema. It was indeed a great morning's music and cinema.

To finish the day I finally discoved The Library, a place I had long wanted to visit, situated directly below my 'other office' in town, Body Positive. This is a classic Wellington gem, a cocktail bar for the young, and not so young, furnished with obvious op shop, or welfare, pieces of pre-loved couches, lounge suites and armchairs, creating a peculiarly homely space. The high walls are drenched with donated books, all placed in a haphazard order in shelves built high upon the walls which also sport a variety of old prints, tapestries and whatever. I easily find a comfy space as it is essentially a late night bar so it is quite empty at five p.m. The waitress tells me most nights, and especially on weekends, the queues stretch along Courtenay Place, young people waiting for the privilege of a buying a twenty dollar cocktail. I find a banquette seat under a dim threadbare lampshade and wait the arrival of my hot lemon and honey drink. I have a good hour before my regular Friday night at Kilbirnie, singing the HU with friends. It's been quite a week really, but, then, that's life in Wellington.

Below is an example of the artwork hanging in each individual unisex 'powder-room' at the Lighthouse Cinema.There are eight of these quaint and pristine conveniences offered at this excellent establishment.  

My 'cocktail' at The Library.