Back to normal - or not?

Yes, as you'll see I am back at my cafe Midnight Espresso on Cuba, just having a lemon and honey drink before the first ballroom dance of the year. The weather has been vicious, so what's new? But still we live in hope and now the sun is shining for a few hours and I'm soon off to Sydney where there will be be just too much sun I'm afraid, but it will be a nice change. 

At present I am in a state of quiet excitement as my dream 'House-sit' has appeared on the net, and I have no experience or references for it. But you can dream...it is a large home on the Mediterranean Turkish coast, with eight dogs and ten cats to care for. Am afraid they will need someone more experienced than I am, but it's worth an application.  It is also for all of July and some of June, eight weeks in all. It would be a great escape from the Kiwi winter. I'll just have look to see what happens. Perhaps I need one closer to home to practise, and there is one in Martinborough, a few hours north of Wellington, for about the same time, with far fewer pets to look after. I'll try for that too.

Midnight Espresso, still there...

Miracle! it is fine and sunny, with more sun predicted, but don't hold your breath. I am out shopping and taking a coffee at L'Affare, such a long time since I've been here, and it's buzzy with people still on holidays and those who have returned. A bit of shopping at Moore Wilsons for some Amaranth, a health grain said to be used by the Aztecs, so I'll give that a try, with one of my New Year vows being trying new things. 

Caffe L'Affare, busy...

After visiting BP and seeing some more compromising photos of me at V.H., I decide to not worry and catch a movie at the Paramount. It is a Chilean prize winner called 'Gloria', and it looks good. As one  of five in the cavernous theatre, it is like a pivate screening. The principal, Gloria, and she is in every scene, is fabulous, and it's her story of a mature woman finding love, losing it, and then not needing it, all finishing with a rousing rendition of the seventies disco song, Gloria - of course, her theme song. 

It is a salutary reminder if you don't eventually grow up, you'll just end up with a pop song to sing!

Perhaps I'd better look at those photos again, ...ugh!

August - Osage County

Back to life in Wellington - or for two hours life in Oklahoma, USA. 

Being a sucker for Meryl Streep, and knowing that it won a Pulitzer Prize, a Tony Award amongst others, I was interested to see it on the big screen.

 'August: Osage County' did not disappoint. The star cast was excellent, and the story was utterly believable, given the state of American society today, or for that matter, most western societies. Set in Oklahoma, in the hottest summer month, hence the title, the extreme heat set the stage for some big changes, in particular, the effects of a suicide. The story could  have been written for any western country, but it was essentially that of a dysfunctional America. A story of incest, alcoholism, drug addiction, marital infidelities and such, culminating in the truth being eventually outed after the suicide of the father, and the awful revelations of the matriarch. 

Not a truly uplifting tale, but a realistic one unfortunately, marvellously portrayed. Five stars.

Back to violent storms and gale winds, Wellington at its typical best. Just take a breath and battle on.

By the way, I have posted some belated shots of my camping at Vinegar Hill on the relevant earlier posts. It was on the kind suggestion of good friend M, a great Tassie artist who sells his excellent oil paintings and other art on RedBubble, under the title 'charlipadart', certainly worth checking out.

The Interislander ploughing across the Strait

Meryl Streep as the matriarch Violet, of a very dysfunctional mid-west family.

New Year's Eve - the party

Below Rosie and Eddy, a great couple and natives of the area, from the beach-side village of  Foxton to be exact, who are habitues of the VH Fest. This year they decided to contribute with their fast-food van and they parked it next to friend Shayne's  kombie. Rose exudes the essence of the celebrations and is a generous soul, typical of the love generated by the Festival. 

Well the universe has decided enough is enough, and today, the most important day,  the weather is spectacular - sunny and warm, but not too hot, and the memory of the rainy days is fast forgotten as the team gears up with regular deliveries of logs and bracken for the huge bonfire marking the epicentre of the festivities tonight. Many of the campers are having a well earned afternoon sleep in preparation for the long night ahead, but some of the young ones have already started with their music creating a background for what is to come.

Rose and Eddy

Bucolic bliss on New Year's Eve

Shayne's egg yolk tent

Day three - the phenomenon continues

In so many ways this venture is phenomenal...it has rained every day, sometimes torrential, and the sun has also appeared every day, warm and encouraging. However the atmosphere never ceases to be joyful in the extreme. Laughter, loud and genuine, permeates the air all the time. The wonderful Rangitikei river changes from green to gold to brown, cool and inviting even when lashed with rain. 

The characteristics of the Vinegar Hill Fest were created some thirty-five years ago by some frustrated and creative  gay men who wanted to have a holiday camp to celebrate their difference, diversity and inclusion in a safe environment. It has gone from small to large, to super large. Estimates of up to well over a thousand campers descend annually on this beautiful riverfront area, which of course is also frequented by straights.  But as the years went by, and gay numbers increased and got there first, it became a great economic advantage to the local community at Hunterville. Subsequently the facilities were improved with two toilet and shower blocks installed, and small fees were charged per day, per person, to cover the Christmas - New Year period in the normally cost-free camping grounds. However payment does not seem to be highly organised and it is left to the honesty of each camper to fork out. 

The organisers, led by the Camp Queen who is elected each year, do a big job of co-ordinating events, keeping the peace, and creating an inclusive non-threatening space. There are many country towns in New Zealand where it is still impossible to be an 'out' gay person, similar in many ways to Tasmania, so this summer event is virtually the only time of the year where many can be free to be themselves. It is a great initiative which has totally succeeded.

L and WW's modest tent

The above tent is not typical of most who frequent Vinegar Hill. Many are elaborately constructed walk-in models, with all appliances - electricity, television, and one, I was told, even brought their dish- washer, possibly a little over the top. But for most it is a ritual eagerly looked forward to every year, with many having come every year since its inception. For them, it is an absolute necessity, and a part of their life they could not not do without. It is certainly a solid part of Kiwi history already.

L and WW getting ready to shoot the rapids

The beautiful Rangitikei River

Getting some shade when the sun finally got here

Day two at The Hill

All queer parties it seems, have to have a theme, and tonight's is the ever popular Roman Toga Party. I suppose having the odd available sheet to drape around your body is a practical reason for this choice, but it's perhaps more the decadence that is associated with the idea of the Roman Empire and its excesses that is more pertinent here tonight, where sex is foremost on the agenda for many. Underwear, of course, is superfluous, so that makes things even easier as the night flows on. I wonder how many of our very butch lesbian sisters will grace the stage tonight? I think not too many, and it won't be the weather which is the reason. Dresses, after all, are really a girl's thing.

Again another quite violent thunderstorm precedes the event, just giving more time to prepare, so all is ship-shape. The caravans and Kombies are continuing to arrive, and it seems like the population of the camp doubles for the New Year's Eve party, which includes, at the very end, the announcing and crowning of the next Queen of the Hill for the coming year. This is a full-time job I am told, so much goes into this constantly increasing social phenomenon in Kiwi Land.

Preparing for the Toga party

You will see from the above three photos some of the preparation for the Toga party, but what followed was something not to be expected...some magic occurred and our 'mob', L, H, K and I set off to visit a few of the other tents in the camp. We got ready early so had ample time to stroll, all four of us, the kilometre length of the camp area and say Hi! and have photos taken with various unsuspecting campers. K, quite high on several G and Ts, was instrumental in getting half the visitors at Vinegar Hill to be part of our long tour. We finally, having done the length and breath of the site, and a good hour later, arrived at the Toga venue, in full and blushing colour, to see the other early arrivals in total white, sipping their cocktails.

Needless to say we were warmly welcomed and soon the party numbers swelled to about a hundred. All were decked out, some fantastically original, in various modes of Roman dress. It was worth it to see the relaxing of all  barriers - sex, class and nationality disappear in this dress-up party under the now clear sky, accompanying it an amazing presentation of a light show projected onto the giant bush background. 

So many different nationalities were there, and I feel many ex-pat Kiwis come home for this event. I spoke to one of them, now living in Sydney, who told me he couldn't compare the fun he had here to the somewhat artificial sophistication of last year's top Sydney NYE party (at $300 a head) held on the roof of the fashionable MCA on Circular Quay. I couldn't have agreed more. This was a great party and I stayed later than I normally do, getting back to my bed by eleven, (?) leaving my friends to burn the midnight oil.

Two wandering revellers

Nero and his concubine

Vinegar Hill

Well we made it! Four of us stuffed into a small VW, bright red of course, with a mess of hastily prepared camping facilities and some food, ready to set off on our five day odyssey to Vinegar Hill. It was a two hour trip but somehow it took us four hilarious hours to get there. Aunty K from Auckland flew down last night to join her two cousins and we were indeed a colourful group, especially L who was really ready for the camping trip, wardrobe-wise anyway.  We arrived at Hunterville, the site itself a mere ten minutes away, but the weather looked ominous. We were in for an interesting five days, mostly it seemed, of rain!

Nugget our neighbours' dog, being petted, out of the rain.

The Rangitikei river running through the site was an absolute dream! The high cliffs behind it set off the swirling fast flowing somewhat muddy water perfectly. Soon we were unpacked and the two tents were quickly erected, with a little help from friends H and P who had been there a week already and had chosen a great spot right on the river. Happily they had reserved a place right next to them for us. We just had time to cook the rice and warm the curry which I had made the night before, on our gas cookers, before the weather turned nasty and the rain started pouring down, and pour it did, for about three hours. However spirits not at all dampened, we waited and the downpour finally stopped and the partying began. It was the first party and called a Glow party, where everyone was given strands of florescent tubing decorating their somewhat clothed bodies.The whiff of weed was in the air and the atmosphere was absolute Vinegar Hill, so I was told.  I chatted with some of the very friendly guests for about an hour before leaving the oil wrestlers to themselves and their appreciative audience. I then strolled back in the dark towards my very drenched tent. Sleep was a while coming as the partiers, and it was their night, were determined  to go on to the wee hours enjoying themselves. It was after all, the first party, of many, for the season. Get ready for some sleep deprivation I told myself, but the atmosphere was too good to naysay anything. The people, all colours, sexes and sizes, in all manner of attire, and as well, it seemed like dozens of dogs, both tiny and very large, all created an unforgettable atmosphere which the wet weather was not going to spoil.

I forgot to mention, when the sun was still out, (there was an hour or two) H suggested we all go for a river ride, down the non-threatening rapids, in large rubber inner tubes, covered in bright plastic, which were free for all to use. The result was a super spectacular experience which took me back over sixty years, when I was a little boy in an inflated tyre in the Gwydir River in NSW. It was exhilarating to say the  least, and the water was fresh and inviting, despite the constant danger of being upset, which only meant complete immersion and climbing back on board. It was a great start to this week of celebrating all things queer and gay.

L. In his rain protective head-dress

The Day After

I am sitting on a dead tree lying on the stone strewn edge of this beautiful river, the Rangitikei. The warm sun is blessing the first day of the year 2014. The all blue sky has a few gossamer clouds floating softly over its wide expanse where last night it was filled with billions of twinkling and shiny stars of the Universe. This is the weather of dreams and today we are on our way home.

Last night the revels lasted till the early hours, the gay end of Vinegar Hill awash with wildly festive feelings in front of a gigantic bonfire warming the hearts and bodies of the revellers. The stage carried  a statuesque young Maori drag queen called Tara Beige, a good 2 metres tall on six inch heels, who gave a dance/mime rendition the quality of which I have never seen - she was stupendous. Especially given the fact that the night before s/he had compered the karaoke night and also delivered a fabulous interpretation of the classic favourite, 'New York, New York' in a rich baritone classically trained voice. But last night the voice had a rest and the body took over. She was a delight to watch and she received a tumultuous ovation. She and a few other performers, among them two lesbian as men, gave a comic song rendition which befitted their rough attire and suited the majority of females in the audience. 

The show catered for all tastes, or certainly for those in attendance. I chatted to a English lady, no she was from from Christchurch, but you  could hardly tell, recently moved to Wanganui after being stricken by the earthquake in 2011. She was sitting on a log near the bonfire taking it all in, cuddling her poodle shizu-cross puppy, and saying how much she loved it at V.H. I have no idea if she was straight or gay, but she typified the appreciation of the crowd. 

Midnight came, the Queen for 2014 was crowned, a very popular choice. It was Shane, whom I had earlier met, you couldn't miss him, formerly a female, but now totally trans-gendered, only five foot odd tall and with a grin as big as Sydney Harbour Bridge. S/ he took the sceptre and sat on the throne and promised to deliver the same if not better next year. And so the old year was brought to a loud close with much kissing and hugging and bonhomie. A great NYE party, and I was very tired but pleased to have witnessed this great coming together of the alternate society. The best NYE I can remember.

However the night was not over yet. There was 'straight' end to Vinegar Hill precinct, and of course many had strayed up to where the major revelry was happening, the gay end. So some time after midnight, alcohol fuelled youth with not too many brains,  returned, or should I say wobbled, their way to their end, screaming profanities, and at at a pitch Satan could have heard in the depths of hell. It was disturbing and blemished the great celebrations which had gone on before. It makes one wonder if NYE can really just be pure fun when over-consumption of alcohol is always present. 

But today this is well  forgotten and some happy campers take to rapids in their rubber rings and enjoy the beginning of yet another year, whatever it may bring. Now off to pack for the too-soon return to Wellington.

Tents on the riverside...

The beautiful Rangitikei River at Hunterville

The centre of fun

The New Queen's speech

L and H getting it on

Before the Party

The day after, the Queen with attendants

J smooching L

A couple of groovers at midnight...