Tide keeps risin'

Shaking inside as the tide keeps risin'

Shaking inside as the tide keeps risin'

I was up before dawn’s crack thanks to a very early alarm call so that Dmitri and I could go and see the sunrise at a place called New Chums Beach. It seemed an appropriately named place to visit given the nature of my travels and the number of new chums I had amassed so far. The only way to the beach is to cross a wide stream as it flows into the sea, walk along the rocky shoreline and then follow a track up over a hill to the beach. At low tide the stream isn’t very deep, coming up to below the knee. By high tide you are left to swim across. Dmitri had checked the tide times and organised the trip around them. The drive and hike to the beach gave Dmitri and me a chance to chat and get to know each other. He was the quieter one of my two hosts and it was nice to get to know him a little better.

Daybreak at New Chums Beach

We had the beach to ourselves, so we did not get to make any new chums. We contented ourselves with sitting on the beach, watching the gannets diving into the sea after a nice fish for breakfast. Dmitri is a photographer so we chatted for a while about my camera, which I had to admit I did not know how to use to the best of its ability. There are some settings on it that I have never even used. Dmitri talked about things like shutter speed and apertures. I mentally added “photography course” to the list of things that I wanted to do when I was back home after my travels. The early morning light was stunning and there were some big clouds making for some dramatic photos, even with my basic skills. By the time we came to head back the tide was coming in and the trip back over was a decent wade, the cold water just over our knees. There were some people heading the other way, on their way to the beach. Dmitri told me that unless they were prepared to swim back they would be over there for a while.

New Chums Beach

Having arrived back home and had a light lunch I went and had an afternoon nap. The early morning had caught up with me. It was so nice being able to have an afternoon nap. I’d never really been a nap kind of guy before and I knew that it would be a shock when I finally had to work again. Napping in the afternoon is generally frowned upon in an office environment. Post snooze I took advantage of the sunny afternoon to sit out on the deck, enjoying the views (and a glass of wine) while doing some writing and emailing all the people from Gay Stay who had offered me accommodation across New Zealand. David popped up from his office downstairs to let me know that a couple of guests would be arriving at Bayview. He was preparing a few canapés for their arrival and that I would be welcome to join them for a welcome drink.

I was still sat out on the deck when a car pulled in to the drive at the side. A couple of guys got out, I assumed they were David’s expected guests. I looked over the railing and said hello to them. After they had been settled in to their room (I say room, it was bigger than my flat in London) they headed up to the balcony. David introduced me to the pair, Lenny and Roger, who were over from the States on holiday. Over wine and canapés I found out that they had been together for 33 years, which meant they had met some time in the year that I was born. I didn’t point that out to them as I thought it might seem a bit rude. I congratulated them on such a long relationship. I also found out that they lived in Seattle but were originally from Atlanta and Chicago. I told them about my trip and that I had been through all three of those places. They seemed impressed with the things I had seen and done in each of those places. After Roger and Lenny headed out to town for dinner, David cooked dinner for the rest of us. After dinner we settled down to watch a film but I was soon yawning and had to call it an early night.

The next morning I had breakfast with Roger and Lenny, asking them what the rest of their trip held in store. They were spending a couple of weeks travelling New Zealand having already spent a short time in Australia. For me, the day marked the end of my first six months of travelling. I refrained from cracking open a bottle of bubbly to celebrate. I spent the morning finalising the whole New Zealand itinerary with David, booking buses and a ferry to get me between all my planned stops. I spent the afternoon out walking round Whitianga and along the beach. In the evening I headed with David, Roger and Lenny across the harbour on the little ferry to visit the Mercury Bay winery, where there was a bit of a party going on. I got to catch up with Gordon and Diana who I had met a few days previously (they still hadn’t finished the Christmas decorations). The vineyard was in a lovely little spot and we got to try some a decent selection of their wines (all were good). After the winery Roger and Lenny went out for dinner and David and I collected Dmitri from the house so we could go out of dinner. I wanted to take them both out to thank them for organising my entire New Zealand itinerary.

Cathedral Cove

They had suggested a place called Mill Road Bistro, which they told me was one of their favourite restaurants in town. They had clearly been a few times as after we had been shown to our table the owner came over to talk to them, bringing with her a complimentary bottle of bubbles. The place was busy and had a nice atmosphere and the starter gave a good insight into the high quality of the food. As we waited for our main course the owner came back over to our table. She apologised that there would be a slight delay in the arrival of our main course. At this point she looked at me and said “Your rump is quite large and it is taking a little longer to cook”. It had been a while since anyone had commented on the size of my rump. My rump, when it arrived, was very tasty.

The following morning was my last in Whitianga and David had booked me on to a boat trip out to Cathedral Cove. Roger and Lenny were also booked on the same trip so after breakfast the three of us headed down to the wharf. On the drive down we drove past a number of houses that were proudly flying All Blacks flags. I was asked what the flags were for and I explained that it was the national rugby team and that New Zealand had just hosted the Rugby World Cup. The next question made me laugh out loud (yes, I actually “lol’d”). A slightly hushed tone was adopted as I was asked “And are they all black?”. After I had stopped laughing I said I thought it was more to do with the colour of the shirts rather than the people in them.

I didn't have to jerk

The boat trip was good fun, the powerboat had a few seats up the front which Roger, Lenny and I sat in giving us great views as we bounced across the waves. I had a small fit of the giggles having put my lifejacket on when I noticed the toggle with “jerk to inflate” written on it. Our captain for the morning gave us a good tour and only once did he mistime our course through the choppy waters, the result being a huge amount of spray coming over the bow and completely soaking us. As we got closer to Cathedral Cove we slowed down so we could get some photos. Cathedral Cove is a massive cave linking two beaches. It was used at the start of the Chronicles of Narnia film, Prince Caspian. On our return to the wharf Dmitri was waiting as he wanted to say goodbye to me before I headed off at lunchtime as he would be at work. Roger and Lenny gave me a lift back to Bayview, I wished them safe travels for the rest of their tour and went to pack my case. It was soon time to leave and I took my case out into the hall. I said goodbye to Dot and loaded my case into David’s car as he said he would drop me off at the bus stop. Before I left he gave me a printed and bound itinerary for the rest of my New Zealand trip, complete with details of where I was staying, local attractions and all my travel confirmations. I thanked David yet again for all the assistance he had given me. My New Zealand trip would be infinitely better because of it.

“Shaking inside as the tide keeps risin'” 
Lyrics from In the same boat from the musical Curtains

No one to comfort me

No one to comfort me or guide me, why is there no one here with me?

No one to comfort me or guide me

I got the ferry over from Auckland to Coromandel. David, one of my next hosts, had recommended it rather than taking the coach. The views were much nicer from the ferry than out of a coach window. Even the screaming child sat a few feet away from me didn’t spoil the journey across. David was waiting for me at the wharf and helped me with my case to the car. The drive from Coromandel to Whitianga would take about an hour. The drive took us up over the hills and the windy road reminded me of the Snake Pass, the road between Sheffield and Manchester that we had driven virtually every weekend when I was young to go and visit my grandparents.

On the drive over we chatted about mutual friends. Having been put in touch with David we had worked out that we had three connections, all of them separate from each other. David was a friend with a guy who used to be my lodger, he knew a guy I had met the month before on my travels when I was in Portland and, mostly randomly, he knew one of the partners I used to work for. David told me that he had been in the travel business for a long time and had his own travel company. That was how he knew the partner, who was from New Zealand,  as David had booked numerous trips back home for him and his family. David also told me that his company had a specialist gay travel business too and that he might be able to help me while I was in New Zealand. 

View from Bayview

Having arrived at the house (Bayview) I was shown to my room, which had stunning views over Whitianga. I was introduced to Dmitri, David’s other half and Dot, David’s mum. Over a lunch of homemade pizza I told David & Dmitri of my travels to date. They asked what I had planned for New Zealand and I admitted that I had nothing else planned yet apart from my flight out of New Zealand, which left a 3 and a bit week gap I needed to fill. After lunch Dmitri said he was off to help some friends, Gordon and Diana, put up some Christmas decorations. It made me realise that Christmas was less than a month away. With the warm weather and travelling I had lost track of time. It would be odd seeing Christmas trees, Santa and snowmen in sunny weather. David took me on a drive through Whitianga so I could get my bearings before we called in to see how Dmitri was getting on with the decorations. Gordon and Diana convert their huge conservatory into a winter wonderland every year to raise money for charity and they had already got a dozen or so Christmas trees up. We found them sitting eating fruitcake and drinking wine, as it was apparently too windy for putting the lights up round the roof. The rest of my afternoon was taken up sitting on the veranda overlooking the bay, enjoying a glass of wine and doing some writing. David and Dmitri fired up the BBQ for the first time in months and we had dinner sat outside.

Cook's Beach

The following morning I sat in bed for a while checking my emails while I had a coffee, waiting for it to kick in.  Two things stood out amongst the messages I read through. The first was a message from Mother telling me that my sister was being admitted to hospital. She has suffered for years with a condition called colitis and it had taken a turn for the worse, flaring up so much that her normal medication wasn't working. My stomach sank reading the message. I felt so useless being on the other side of the world and guilty that I was not there to go visit her or do anything to help. I think it was virtually impossible for me to be any further away and still be on the same planet. Mother said there was nothing I could do even if I was in the country and that she would keep me posted on how Karen was doing. She told me that Karen understood I wouldn't be able to visit and that there was no point in me flying all the way home. 

The other was a message from a friend asking if I had seen the comments that had been posted following an article about my travels on an online Australian gay magazine. I hadn’t and I went and read them, knowing it was probably the worst thing to do. One random guy was calling me a slut, having a go at me for only staying with men and getting publicity for sleeping my way around the world. Now, I’ve not been celibate during my travels but I am far from being a slut. I can understand that some people make that initial assumption about my travels but once I explain to them what I am doing I think they realise that it is not about sex.I knew that I shouldn’t focus on the comments of one person but it really played on my mind and upset me.

Why is there no one here with me?

I decided to go for a hike to try and take my mind off everything for a while. I thought that the fresh air and exercise might help clear my head. I got dropped off in town and got the little ferry across the harbour to where I was going to go for my hike. My route would take in a few of the beaches in the area – Front, Flaxmill and Cook’s beaches and Lonely Bay. During the entire time I was on the various beaches I only saw one other person out walking. I saw them on the beach in Lonely Bay (irony that even an American would understand). The walk and being alone with my thoughts didn’t help any. I managed to get myself worked up into a bit of a state, feeling alone and far away from friends and family when I should be there for them. For the first time in a while I sat down and cried. It was a real low point for me.

Lonely Bay

I pulled myself together and headed back, stopping in for a coffee and a piece of cake to try and cheer myself up. I figured I could blame my red eyes on hayfever when I got back if David or Dmitri asked. A couple of things happened in the café I had stopped at that started to turn my day around. As I ploughed my way through a huge slice of delicious chocolate cake I checked my 80 Gays email account. I had about half a dozen messages from people who had read the article, offering me places to stay when my trip reached Australia. I also had a couple of messages from people telling me that they had read the article and thought what I was doing was amazing. The other thing that happened was a very amusing conversation I listened in to between the New Zealand waitress and a table of four French people. The waitress had brought their drinks out and asked, “Who ordered the short black?”. The people all looked a bit confused and there was a bit of conferring in French. They denied ordering it. The waitress asked again but slower and louder, as though that might help them understand English better. The upshot was that the coffee was theirs but they had misheard “short black” for “chocolate”, and none of them had ordered a chocolate. The misunderstanding made me chuckle and reminded me of my own language slips in Buenos Aires.

The thing that really changed the entire day round was waiting for me when I got back to David and Dmitri’s. In my room was a sheet of paper with an itinerary all mapped out – places I would go and contact details for people who were willing to host me for a night or two. David was part of a gay stay network and he had spent the day ringing and emailing other people involved, explaining my trip and finding me hosts. It was unbelievably kind of David, and all the people who had offered to put me up, as they were all offering me free accommodation for my stay. It made me focus on the amazing people that I had met so far on my trip, and the amazing people that I had still yet to meet. The comments of that one guy seemed insignificant in context. Feeling a lot better about things and sending positive thoughts home to my sister I headed to bed.

“No one to comfort me or guide me, why is there no one here with me?” 
Lyrics from I’m all alone from the musical Spamalot

A gay escapade

If you happen to be rich, and you feel like a night's entertainment, you can pay for a gay escapade

If you happen to be rich 

I was back in Auckland, a week and a day after my original arrival. This time I didn’t have jet lag to contend with so I would get to experience the Auckland gay scene on a Friday night. At least now I knew not to head out too early so I wouldn’t end up sitting in an empty bar, waiting for the local gays to arrive. Having spent the afternoon wandering round a bit of Auckland I had previously failed to explore and having a late lunch, I got ready to head out. I decided I would head back to DNA Bar as out of the two places I had been, that one seemed a little nicer. It had only recently reopened and everything still seemed new and clean. They had drag shows on a Friday too and the one I had seen last time had been entertaining enough. This time round though I had the benefit of having picked up a flier so I knew that the first of the drag shows was at 11pm. I figured that would mean that around 10:30pm the place would have a half decent crowd waiting. Once again, I was wrong.

I arrived a few minutes before 10:30pm and the place was as deserted as it had been on the previous Saturday when I had arrived. There was no sign of a drag show about to start either. Luckily I spotted a guy, Alex, who I had met the previous week. We had chatted briefly after Julio (the Mexican guy I had got talking to) had introduced me to him. From our brief conversation the previous week I knew the following about Alex. He was English but had moved over to  New Zealand a while ago and was now living in Auckland permanently. I guessed he was somewhere in his late forties or early fifties (although I tend to be quite bad guessing peoples ages), was high up in his chosen profession and clearly from a very wealthy background. When I told him I was travelling and that I had a month to see New Zealand he had offered me a place to stay in Queenstown, on his yacht, provided the staff were there.

I smiled and nodded to Alex across the virtually empty room and I could see that he recognised, if not remembered me. He came across to talk to me and asked me to remind him where he knew me from. I told him we had met the previous weekend and reminded him of my name. He asked me what I had done in the intervening week and I filled him in on my travels to Whangarei. He had never been there so I told him what there was to do there (not much, other than hiking and relaxing). I asked Alex how his week had been. The biggest event in his week was an airline finally agreeing to replace the luggage of his that they had lost a few weeks before. He showed me the Louis Vuitton brochure with the luggage that he was getting to replace his lost items. One of the trunks was about the size of my flat back in London and probably cost about the same.

And you feel like a night's entertainment

Now, I’m normally not great at noticing when I am being hit on but when someone you are talking to tells the barman that you can order anything you like and he will pick up the tab all night then even I would have to be totally blind to miss those signals. If I had been the sort of person capable of selling out to a sugar daddy then this would have been the ideal time to do it. I could have easily landed myself a life (or at least a few days or weeks) of luxury, being taken to the best restaurants, spending time on a fully staffed yacht and being pampered without having to open my wallet. I am sure it would have required me to put out and that was where the plan failed. I have morals (and I didn’t find the guy attractive) so I knew that it wasn’t something that I could do, not even for a couple of weeks of luxury. I am also stubbornly independent so having accepted one drink from him to be polite I paid for my own drinks for the rest of the night. I wasn’t the only person Alex was buying drinks for and a couple of other people seemed to be taking full advantage to the point where I was embarrassed for them. Still, Alex didn’t seem to mind.

The drag show that had been due to start at 11pm duly started at 11:30pm. I’m not sure I have ever seen a drag show that started at the time it was supposed to. I guess drag queens are also drama queens and like to keep their audience waiting. I’ve never done drag, unless you count the time I was one of the ugly sisters in my junior school panto production of Cinderella. The show was very funny and was based on Glee. The highlight was one of the “Cheerios” losing a breast half way through the performance. Some of the people took it very seriously. I stayed at DNA until about 2am, chatting to Alex and some of his friends. I headed back home to get some sleep as I had booked on to a day trip for the following day and needed to be relatively awake and hangover free.

You can pay for a gay escapade

The next morning I made my way to the harbour via a coffee shop to pick up my boat which was going to take me out to Rangitoto Island. I joined the queue, finishing off my coffee as I moved slowly forward. Once at the front I gave the woman my name so that I could collect my ticket. Having got my ticket I then went and stood in another queue to board the boat. The trip out was relatively calm and we were soon on the volcanic island. There were a couple of options for my trip to Rangitoto. I could either take the boat over and then explore alone, the hike to the top of the crater and back would have filled the time I had on the island. The other option was a tractor tour, which meant hopping into a trailer pulled by a tractor to the base of the crater, walking up to the top and then being taken on a tour round the rest of the island, seeing a few points of interest before being dropped back at the dock for the last boat back.

I had decided, in the interests of seeing as much as possible, to book on to the tractor tour. I made my way off the boat to where the tractor and trailer were waiting. I looked around my fellow passengers for the tractor tour. I was probably the only one under 50. I felt decidedly lazy that I was not hiking the full route. I considered faking a limp in an attempt to justify being on the tractor but decided against it. The views from the top of the crater were stunning (and no less rewarding because I hadn’t hiked all the way there) and our guide gave us a great tour of the rest of the island. On the ferry back over I had a small snooze and only woke up when the boat got back to Auckland harbour. I had a quiet dinner and an evening in packing my case ready to head to my next stop, Whitianga, where I would be staying with my first set of New Zealand hosts.

“If you happen to be rich, and you feel like a night's entertainment, you can pay for a gay escapade” 
Lyrics from Money Song from the musical Cabaret

I'd like you anyway

If you were gay, that’d be okay, I mean ‘cause hey, I’d like you anyway

If you were gay, that’d be okay 

I woke to a very early alarm. I had set it with the intention of watching the sunrise and getting started on my hike early before it got too warm. The best laid plans however…I switched the alarm off and rolled over, going back to sleep for a couple of hours. I figured I was on my holidays so I might as well make the most of being able to snooze. Once I was finally up and awake I got myself ready, watched the rest of the episode of American Horror Story I had started the previous night (much less scary watching it in broad daylight) and headed in to town to get a proper coffee and some breakfast. I then headed back to the hostel, made myself a picnic lunch and having collected a map of the local area from the stack in reception, set off on my hike.

My hike took me through the Parihaka Reserve, the trail winding slowly up through the wooded hills to a great look out spot which made the climb worth it. It gave me great views over Whangerei, which looked tiny from the top of the hill. I hadn’t passed anyone else on the hike up and the look out spot was empty too. It was nice (although slightly strange) to feel like I had the entire place to myself. Rather aptly I had been listening to “Into the Woods” on my iPod although I didn’t come across any wolves, witches or princes on my hike. I continued my hike by hitting the Hatea River Walk and up to the Whangerei Falls. Having had the place to myself for so long it came as a bit of a shock to turn a corner and nearly bump into a group of people walking the other way. I had been singing out loud too which anyone who has heard me attempt karaoke can confirm is not a good thing. I was a little embarrassed to say the least. They smiled and we exchanged “hellos” before carrying on our respective walks. I found a nice sunny grassy spot to stop for my picnic lunch and a rest for an hour or so, before I set back off, retracing the route I had headed back to shower and change. 

Rainbow over Whangerei Falls

I decided that following such an energetic and healthy day a post walk glass of wine was in order. I cracked open a bottle of red, got some dinner and sat on the deck outside my room. Out of idle curiosity I grabbed my laptop, opened it and did a search to see whether there was a gay bar in the area (I was certain that there wouldn’t be but I wanted to check, just to make sure I wasn't missing out on anything). Sure enough there were no gay bars in Whangarei. I declared my deck the new gay hotspot in town despite the fact that I was drinking alone. Still, it was no different to how my night out in Auckland had started. It made me realise that I had been relatively fortunate to grow up in a big city that had at least some gay nightlife when I was coming out. Coming out stories had been one of the running themes of the conversations I’ve had with the people I have met on this trip so far. Some have been funny, most have been touching and emotional, a couple have unfortunately been sad with the person being disowned by family. Here is mine.

I mean ‘cause hey, I’d like you anyway

I came out to my family and friends when I was 20. I was at university, in my second year and living away from home. I had known I had found boys attractive since I was about 14 or 15. I had thought it might "be a phase I was going through" as that is what people seemed to say but had come to realise it wasn’t. I had got to the point where I needed to tell people. It was getting tiring having to think about what I said to friends & colleagues. I was tired of having to use gender non-specific terms when talking about the guy I was seeing. I decided that the first person I needed to tell was the most important person in my life, Mother. That was going to be the hardest thing in the world to do and it took me a while to build up the courage to do it. To cut a long story short I finally told her one evening after an earlier aborted attempt where I had bottled it. She asked me a lot of questions, we talked for a couple of hours and then she went home. Shortly after she called me and when I answered the phone she said “You know that I still love you” and hung up. I thought all things considered she had taken it really well. I found out a few years later that once she got home she actually drank half a bottle of brandy and had the rest of the week off work.

Mother had said she would tell my sister and had called her to say that she needed to talk to her about me. My sister’s initial reaction was to ask Mother if I had got someone pregnant. Mother said that I hadn’t and I was unlikely to. We decided that we wouldn’t tell my granddad, my only surviving grandparent, as he was nearly 80 at the time. He is still going strong and will be 92 on his next birthday. We still haven’t told him but he is not stupid so he might have guessed. He long ago stopped asking me if I was “courting”.

My university housemates took it in their stride and didn’t seem too surprised. My supermarket check out colleagues, mostly middle aged women, also seemed unfazed by it. I became the “go to” guy for any questions vaguely gay related. One particular occasion that sticks in my mind was a Saturday lunchtime, just after the first episode of Queer of Folk had been shown on Channel 4. A couple of the women I was sat with had clearly watched it and were asking me questions such as “Had I been to Canal Street?” and “When had I realised I was gay?” which I answered without too much difficulty. I was just about to take a bite of my cheese sandwich when one of the women (who must have been pushing 60) innocently turned to me and asked “What is rimming?”. I nearly choked on my lunch. All thing considered though I count myself very fortunate with how people have reacted to me coming out.

Sunset over Whangerei

Anyway, back to Whangarei. The following morning I woke to the sound of rain and was secretly pleased as it meant I could have a lazy morning without feeling too guilty about it. Also, my legs were slightly stiff from the hiking of the previous day. The weather cleared around lunchtime and I wandered down in to town to get myself some lunch. I had a walk round the marina and then headed back up to pack my case ready for the morning. I watched the sun set over the hills and then headed back. The noticeboard in the hostel had some information about a walk that could be done at night into the woods to see the glow worms. I figured this was not a euphemism so thought about doing the walk to see them. As I was getting ready the clouds came back in and it starting raining again. I wasn’t that bothered about seeing glow worms, not enough to get soaking wet and muddy for them, so I had a chilled evening ready to get up early for a bus trip back to Auckland in the morning.

“If you were gay, that’d be okay, I mean ‘cause hey, I’d like you anyway” 
Lyrics from If you were gay from the musical Avenue Q

I thought you was a ghost

What's your rush? What's your hurry? You gave me such a fright, I thought you was a ghost!

What's your rush? 

The previous night’s celebrations had lasted into the early hours so most of Sunday morning passed me by while I slept soundly. As I lay in bed summoning up the energy to get out of bed I flicked the TV on. The channel it was set to was showing live coverage of a triathlon. The athletes had just started the cycling stage and I recognised the road they were going down. It was the road next to where I was staying. The thought of seeing fit men in lycra up close spurred me into action and I showered & dressed, heading out with my camera. I didn’t have to walk far to find a nice sunny spot to watch them riding by. I managed to get a few good photos too and any lingering tiredness or hangover was soon gone.

Watching such physical activity made me hungry and I treated myself to a huge burger with blue cheese and a side of chunky chips from Velvet Burger. I could hear my arteries clogging as I ate but it was delicious. I knew that once I got home getting back in to my routine of running would take some effort although watching the triathlon (and maybe the snugness of my jeans) had made me realise that I was actually missing the regular exercise. I have done the London Marathon five times and a number of other shorter runs in between. I once did the Lisbon half marathon, taking a few days off work so I could make the most of a long weekend away visiting my friend Rui and seeing Lisbon. I got back to find that Marcella, my secretary had misunderstood why I was away and had been telling people I was because I was running a lesbian half marathon. I’m not sure what a lesbian half marathon would be but I suspect that the runners would be wearing comfortable shoes.

What's your hurry?

My final full day in Auckland was taken up with a harbour cruise in the morning during which time I managed to catch the sun. I had been sat on the top deck of the boat to get some good photos of Auckland from the harbour and hadn’t appreciated just how sunny it was because there was also quite a strong wind blowing. After disembarking I headed off to find somewhere for lunch, passing a large mirrored office window in which I caught my reflection. It was not good. My nose was rather red from the sun despite me putting sun cream on before I went out. Worse than the nose, my hair, having been subjected to wind and sea spray, was looking huge. I looked like I was vying for a Country Music Award. I decided I needed to find a barber straight away. I managed to find one close to the place I was staying. They couldn’t fit me in straight away but they had an opening a little later so I went for a coffee and chatted to my sister on Skype for a while. She was very kind and didn’t comment on my red nose or big hair, both of which had gone by the following morning when I checked out to move on from Auckland.

My next stop was a few days away in a little place called Whangarei. I had done a bit of research before booking my travel and hostel and it looked like a good place for me to go for a couple of days to relax, do some hiking and try and catch up on some writing as I was getting further and further behind. I walked up to the coach station and went to the information desk to find out which stop my coach would be leaving from. The woman behind the counter asked where I was going and I replied pronouncing my destination like “Wang-array”. A blank look greeted my answer so I tried again. Still nothing. I resorted to writing it down and sliding the piece of paper over the counter. This finally met with a reaction and her saying “Farn-gar-ray”. I tried to repeat it how she had said it. A couple of attempts later I think I had got it. She very kindly explained that in the Maori language the “wh” is pronounced “f”. I could see that navigating my way round New Zealand would be “whucking” difficult.

I arrived into Whangerei late afternoon and checked in to the hostel. The place was on the edge of town, half way up a wooded hillside and it felt like I was in the countryside proper. I had booked online and at the time they had only taken a deposit so I handed over my credit card. After three failed attempts it was clear there was a problem with my card and I would need to call my helpful bank. They didn’t accept Amex so my second credit card was no good either. I handed over my debit card and tried that. When I went to enter my PIN my mind went completely blank. I couldn’t remember the number. I tried a couple of times but it wouldn’t go through. I finally paid cash. The woman gave me my keys and told me she would show me to my room, explaining that I wasn’t in the main hostel, which was where the dorm rooms were, but was in a small building just down the path. We headed down through some trees to a small wooden chalet style building. There were four private rooms and a shared bathroom at the end. The rooms had big glass sliding doors out on to a communal balcony with great views down over the town. The other rooms all looked empty so it would be nice and quiet too.

You gave me such a fright

Having settled in I went for a walk into the town centre, the town centre consisting of about four streets. I found a coffee shop and went in, asking for a flat white. The girl behind the counter looked at her watch and told me I would have to have it to take away as it was nearly closing time. I looked at the time. It was 4:55pm. Clearly things closed early in Whangarei. As I walked through town drinking my coffee I spotted a supermarket and it still looked open despite it being gone 5:10pm. The hostel had a shared kitchen so I could cook myself some dinner. I hadn’t cooked for a while so it would make a nice change. I was also planning on doing a hike the following day and wanted to take some lunch with me so it seemed the ideal time to stock up on provisions. There was also a bottle shop nearby too and a glass of red wine with dinner also seemed like a good plan. I entered the supermarket. The thing that struck me about it was the number of people walking round, doing their shopping, completely barefoot. To me, the idea of walking round a supermarket without footwear on seemed completely alien and quite unhygienic. Over here it seemed acceptable. I made a mental note to make sure I gave the fruit and salad I was buying a bloody good wash before I ate it.

I thought you was a ghost!

Over dinner and a nice glass (bottle) of New Zealand wine I watched a little bit of TV on my laptop. Josh, one of my LA gays, had introduced me to a show called American Horror Story while I was staying with him. I had only seen part of one episode but it looked good so I had downloaded the first few episodes. I sat on the sofa watching it, the big glass door open to let in a breeze as it was a warm night. The show was quite dark and made me jump a couple of times. I wondered if it was a wise idea watching it alone whilst being in a quiet hostel on the edge of a wooded area. Half way through the second episode someone suddenly walked past my room along the balcony. I let out what I like to think would have been a manly expression of surprise but was more likely to have been a rather girly squeal. That made the person walking by jump too. Heart pounding I apologised to the guy. I decided to finish watching the second episode in the morning, once it was light. 

“What's your rush? What's your hurry? You gave me such a fright, I thought you was a ghost!” 
Lyrics from Worst pies in London from the musical Sweeney Todd

Skimming the surface

Dancing through life, skimming the surface

Dancing through life
Saturday night in Auckland, time to check out the local gay scene. Having done some research it appeared that there were two main bars, Family and DNA, both on K’ Road. There were a number of other bars too but they looked a lot smaller. Both Family and DNA had drag shows on a Saturday night so I figured I would go check at least one of them out, see how Kiwi drag compared to the drag I had seen in the other places on my trip so far. I hadn’t had to go out alone on the gay scene since Santiago, over two months before. I was ready for a drink and a dance, and I was determined to be more confident this time round. I vowed to initiate conversation with the locals as I didn’t have the language barrier to contend like I had had in Chile.

I got myself ready, opting for jeans and the only shirt that I had with me. I checked my hair, both head and chest, in the mirror to make sure I looked ok. My head hair could do with a bit of a trim as it had not been cut since my sister had done it for me in Mexico. I noticed rather more grey in it than I had when I started the trip. I told myself people would see it as “distinguished” rather than “old”. My chest hair could arguably have done with a trim too but I threw caution (and chest hair) to the wind and left the top two buttons on my shirt open. I headed out for the walk up to K’ Road. I had calculated that I would arrive at the first place around 10pm, by which time I was expecting the evening to be well under way for most people. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The first place looked like it wasn’t even open but as I got closer I saw the doors were open. Inside it was virtually deserted, a couple of guys stood at one of the tables outside and a rather bored looking woman was stood behind the bar. I carried on a little further down the street and reached DNA. There were a handful of people dotted around but it was also very empty. I decided I might as well get a drink. The walk from the door to the bar across a big empty room seemed to take an eternity. I ordered a pint of lager and while the barman was getting a glass I took my phone out to double check the time to make sure I hadn’t somehow got it wrong. Nope, it was gone 10pm on a Saturday and the Auckland gay scene was decidedly dead. That is the trouble with not having a local contact and having to rely on the internet. There is no information about what time a place actually gets busy or what night people tend to go to which bars.

I mentally ran through the options that could explain why it was so quiet:

1. There was a happening new gay venue that I hadn’t found out about during my research and everyone was there having a great time;
2. The smattering of homosexuals at the bar was the Auckland gay scene in its entirety; or
3. They didn’t start partying until very late in Auckland.

After the barman handed me over my drink I asked him a couple of questions, managing to rule out (1) and (2) and confirming that people didn’t start partying in Auckland until quite late. I had expected the gay scene to be more like that back home in the UK or the States where on a Saturday evening bars would be busy by 10pm. It appeared that Auckland was more like the places I had been in Buenos Aires and Santiago where things don’t even get going until close to midnight and then carry on until the sun is coming up the next day.

Skimming the surface

I figured I was there now so might as well make myself comfortable. I found a seat at the bar and drank my pint. So much for being confident and initiating conversation – there was nobody to talk to. Having nursed my pint for a while I finally finished it and ordered myself a second. A rather drunk guy ordered himself a glass of wine and then introduced himself. We chatted for a couple of minutes and he then introduced himself again. I told him that he had already introduced himself. The conversation we had just had was repeated as he kept asking me the same questions. I was saved by the first of the drag shows starting, using it as a chance to move away from the bar towards the stage where I would get a better view. The guy followed and stood at the side of me, swaying gently. Every now and again he would turn and say something to me, including introducing himself for the third time.

The guy eventually wandered off into the crowds, leaving me alone. I got chatting to a guy from Mexico who lived in Wellington and was in Auckland for the weekend. He asked me where my boyfriend had gone and I very quickly corrected him, explaining that I had only just met the guy and he was very drunk. Julio (the Mexican) turned out to be sober and friendly which was a relief. We chatted as the drag act continued their performance. It seemed to be some sort of gender non-specific Destiny’s Child tribute act. We struggled to determine whether the performers were male, female or somewhere in between. They could really dance though. 

Julio told me that he was off to Family to meet a couple of friends of his and that I was more than welcome to join him. The place was a lot busier than it had been when I had walked by at 10pm. While Julio found his friends I found the bar to get us some drinks, finally tracking him down outside talking to a couple of lesbians. I was introduced to them and they asked me how I knew Julio. I explained that I had only met him a couple of hours before and that he had saved me from having the same conversation over and over again with a drunk guy.

Having gotten off to a fairly rocky and quiet start my first taste of the Auckland gay scene really picked up. Julio’s friends were very welcoming and we chatted a while before they headed over to DNA. Julio and I stayed at Family having already done DNA. The conversation between us flowed really well. I find this sometimes happens with people, you seem to connect instantly on a level that is not merely a physical attraction. We seemed to be on the same wavelength and we could bounce off of each other while chatting. We got chatting to some random people who happened to be stood near us. One guy asked us how long we had been together. Without pausing to hesitate I said “Five years”. Julio instantly joined in, putting his arm round me and saying “But it still feels like we only just met”. The evening turned out to be a late one as we stopped to watch the late drag show and have a bit of a dance and a few more drinks. I got to bed around 5am, pleased that I had gone out, chatted to people and made a couple of new friends.

“Dancing through life, skimming the surface” 
Lyrics from Dancing through life from the musical Wicked

Where am I going?

Where am I going? And what will I find?

  

Where am I going?
I woke up in Auckland having slept for virtually the whole flight. While I had been sleeping I had crossed the International Date Line and the Equator, and was now about as far away from home as I could possibly be without leaving the planet. By the time I had put my shoes back on, got my things together and sorted myself out I was pretty much the last person off the plane. As I set off I heard a rattling noise coming from my rucksack. I remembered that I had a packet of Milk Duds in my bag which I had intended to snack on during the flight but the gin & Tylenol induced sleep had left me with no time to eat them. I had heard that the Customs officers in New Zealand could be very strict, especially when it came to food. I had been told the story of a friends son who had taken an apple with him and had been fined for trying to bring it into the country. The fact that the apple had been given to him on an Air New Zealand flight didn’t seem to make any difference. Not wanting to see the Milk Duds go to waste or get fined I ate them on the walk from the plane to Customs, finally throwing about a third of the packet away as I passed a bin. Scoffing that much chocolate for breakfast left me feeling a little queasy and a little hyperactive, not a great combination when about to deal with Immigration and Customs.

When it was my turn to be interrogated I made my way to the Immigration desk and handed my passport over. The woman behind the high desk flicked through it, looking at the stamps in it without saying anything. The first question I was asked was how long I intended to stay. I replied I would be in New Zealand for a month, handing her my round-the-world ticket itinerary with my flight to Australia for the following month highlighted. She asked me a lot of questions about where I planned to go during my month in New Zealand. I hadn’t got anything other than my initial stay in Auckland planned. I didn’t want to admit that so I reeled off a few places I was planning on visiting. I think I started to sweat, hoping the route I was telling her sounded plausible. It turned out that she was actually a really nice lady and she gave me lots of suggestions on places I should try and visit and things that I should do while there. She handed me my passport back and I thanked her for the travel tips. From there I collected my case, breezed through Customs safe in the knowledge that I was not trying to smuggle in contraband foodstuffs and hopped on a bus into Auckland.

The SkyTower

I had booked into a backpackers hostel, something that I had never done before in my life. I figured my travels were all about trying new things. I couldn’t bring myself to book into the multi-bed all male dorm however. I had no intention of sharing a room with half a dozen other backpackers who would undoubtedly be at least a decade younger than me. Whilst to some sharing a dorm with a bunch of guys in their early twenties would be amazing, like a scene from a porn film, I needed my own space and, more importantly, my own bathroom. My limit of trying new things only extended so far. The hostel was basic but clean but my bed had a very annoying squeak to it. I didn’t envision much action happening there so figured it would be fine for my stay. Having dropped off my case and freshened up I went for a walk and a coffee, hoping that the combination of fresh air and caffeine would keep me awake until a respectable hour at which I could go to bed.

And what will I find?

My walk took me (purposely) along Karangahape Road, know more simply as K' Road, the location of the Auckland gay nightlife. I had checked out how far it was from the place I was staying and it looked like it was within walking distance. I got to see where the bars were so I knew where I would be going when I ventured out on the scene in a day or two. Having done my walk I headed back via a supermarket, picking up a few essentials, having a snack in my room before falling asleep around 8pm. I have reached the conclusion on my travels that gay bars and gay men have a lot in common when it comes to how I feel about them. There are the bars (and men) that from the outside look quite appealing and it is clear that a lot of effort has gone in to creating a nice looking exterior. This nice looking exterior however only goes so far and won’t keep my attention indefinitely if that is all that is on offer. Once you are inside (the bar, not the man) it needs to have some sort of personality to it otherwise the attraction will soon fade. With the men there is only so far a nice body or face will go, they need to have personality too. 

The next couple of days were spent doing some of the main tourist sights of Auckland, albeit at a somewhat gentle pace, and trying to find wifi. On the tourist front I went up the Sky Tower, the tallest free-standing structure in the southern hemisphere. It was pretty much the same as the CN Tower in Toronto and the Space Needle in Seattle but gave me good views of the city. I also took in the Art Gallery of Auckland, walked through Albert Park, went up to the Auckland Domain and took in the Winter Gardens, which were all very pleasant. There was an art exhibition going on in the city and part of it was to have a plinth in front of Auckland City Hall where people could stand and pose and submit their pictures. I thought I would join in so I took a photo of Dean and Horse on the plinth and sent in. They made it onto their Flickr gallery. On the wifi front I resigned myself to having to frequent Starbucks where I could get some access whilst drinking mediocre coffee.

The Winter Gardens

I found myself in Starbucks reading a message about a possible host in New Zealand. I had got a lead from a guy I met in Portland who had a friend, David, in Whitianga, not too far from Auckland on the North Island. He said that he might be able to help with some accommodation so I dropped him a note, explaining more fully my travels, what I was doing and how he might be able to help. Having checked with his other half he let me know that they were up for hosting. I had found my first New Zealand hosts (although neither of them were Kiwis). As we chatted via email we found we had a couple of other connections, which made the world seem very small indeed. David was friends with a guy who had been my flatmate for a couple of years and he had also dealt with the travel arrangements for a Kiwi partner at the firm I used to work for. Not only did I know the partner, I had spent a couple of months working for him in Iceland (the country, not the frozen food supermarket). It amazed me that I had been introduced to this guy only a day before and we were connected by three totally separate connections with different people.

Auckland skyline from the harbour

Having finished my coffee and my admin tasks I had a late lunch on Saturday afternoon. I found a Wagamamas restaurant tucked away down a little side street. It was a nice little reminder of home, the one on Fleet Street had become a regular meeting spot for lunch with my old secretary, Becky. I headed in. I had never eaten alone in a Wagamamas before but with its long canteen style tables and benches it felt less daunting than dining alone in a normal restaurant where I would clearly be sat at a table by myself. I found myself sat close enough to the people next to me to listen in to their conversation while I ate. It made me feel like I wasn’t on my own. I could nod along to there conversation, making it look like I was part of their group. That only worked until about half way through my meal when they all got up to leave and I was left sitting on my own finishing off my noodles. Still, it was better than sitting alone in my room eating take-away. Having lined my stomach I had a post lunch nap until it was time for me to get ready to go and try the Auckland gay scene.

“Where am I going? And what will I find?” 
Lyrics from Where Am I Going? from the musical Sweet Charity