See the pretty countryside

Yesterday is done, see the pretty countryside

Yesterday is done

Before I had quit my job I had been talking with Mother about my plans to travel round the world. Naturally she had been concerned about me travelling alone, being away for so long and being so far away from home. I had reassured her that the vast majority of my trip would be in “safe” countries like Australia and New Zealand. Within days of me giving those as examples Christchurch had suffered a massive earthquake and Australia had been struck by both fire and flood. It hadn’t exactly helped my cause convincing Mother that I would be ok but both countries had remained on my itinerary.

Christchurch was my next stop and it would be the shortest stay on my trip so far as I would only be there for one night, arriving in the evening and leaving early the following morning. When David had been putting my New Zealand itinerary together he had told me that there was not much point in visiting Christchurch at the moment as the vast majority of it was still closed despite the fact that the devastating earthquake had been nearly 10 months previous. Having seen New Orleans and how the place still bore the scars of Hurricane Katrina from six years before I heeded the advice and arranged to stay just one night in Christchurch to break up my travel over to Franz Josef.

I was collected at the bus stop by my next host, Bruce, who was one of the founders of the New Zealand Gay Stay website. He was stood waiting with a name card for me. It was the first time on my travels that I had been greeted with a name card and I felt very special. I put my case into the boot of Bruce’s car and we set off. The bus had dropped me off outside an old stone building that was still clearly badly damaged from the earthquake and I asked Bruce how much of the city was still affected. He said that he would take me on a bit of a tour so that I could see for myself.

As we drove slowly along the road Bruce pointed out numerous fenced off buildings, explaining what they used to be and what was likely to happen to them. There were so many buildings where it looked like nothing had been done to them since the earthquake, the damage still visible. We parked up and got out of the car for a walk around the bit of the city centre that wasn’t closed off. I didn’t get my camera out, it felt somehow obtrusive or ghoulish to take photos. I found myself talking in hushed tones too. I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to live through something that traumatic, the damaged buildings and uneven roads a daily reminder of what had happened. I felt fortunate that I had never had to go through anything like that and it put what I used to think were big problems into perspective. I would never again say that I had had a nightmare day just because my train into work was cancelled and I had got to the office late.

In an attempt to get people back into the city and give the place a focal point a number of shipping containers had been converted into temporary stores, creating a colourful little shopping street in amongst the building sites and empty buildings. It was not quite a phoenix rising out of the ashes but it did give the place a sense that progress was being made and that there was a hope that normality would eventually return to Christchurch. Bruce also explained that the local gay sauna had recently reopened but the gay bar still remained in an area that was closed off.

Back at Bruce’s place I was treated to a home-cooked dinner with Bruce and some of his friends and I was introduced to Richard, Stephen and Jay. The usual questions were asked of me and my travels before the conversation moved on to other topics. It was clear that some of the friendships round the table went back a number of years and at times I felt like an observer, sitting back, watching and listening as the conversation turned to stories that had obviously been told numerous times. I was told about how many, many years ago one of Bruce’s favourite jackets had disappeared from his wardrobe without him noticing. The description Bruce gave of the jacket was quite different to how the others described it.  His friends had apparently taken a dislike to the large shoulder pads on the jacket, had smuggled it out and ceremonially burned it in the garden. After a couple more bottles of wine and several more stories it was time for me to head to bed.

See the pretty countryside 

The next morning I was up and ready very early so that Bruce could drop me off at the train station on his way to work. I was soon on board the little train that would take me from Christchurch to Greymouth where I would pick up a bus to Franz Josef. The train had a viewing platform and I made my way there as we wound our way up through the countryside, slowly climbing towards Greymouth. I was in the stunning New Zealand countryside that everyone talked about. The views were spectacular and no description that I could give would ever do it justice so you will just have to look at the photos instead. Once in Greymouth I had enough time for some lunch before the bus arrived to take me to Franz Josef. I got into Franz Josef late afternoon and made my way to Alpine Glacier Motel where I was greeted by my next host Billy. Billy gave me a massive hug before showing me to my room. He asked if I was going to be visiting the glacier and I said yes. He told me that the weather forecast for the following day was not so good and he advised that I went up straight away. I said ok and before I said anything else he was on the phone to the local minibus people to find out the time of the next bus.

The next bus would be passing by in five minutes to collect people to take them up the glacier. I had enough time to change into my old trainers, visit the bathroom and grab my camera before I was heading out again. There were only a couple of other people in the minibus for the short drive up to the start of the trail that would lead us close to the Franz Josef glacier. The lady driving the minibus explained that the last bus back down would be in just under two hours time but that should give us enough time to have a leisurely stroll to the glacier and back or to have a slightly more energetic walk to the glacier and back and then up Sentinel Hill for some nice views. I opted for the latter getting up to the glacier after a nice brisk walk. It was really quiet at the glacier and I stood in silence on my own for a while staring up at the huge wall of ice that was (a safe distance) in front of me. The place was amazing and it was another moment on my trip when I wished I had been with someone, anyone, to share the experience. Having taken in the scenery I headed back via the hill for some more photos and then caught the last bus back. There was no sign of Billy at the reception so I had a quiet night in with a pizza from the nearby Blue Ice Café.

The Franz Josef Glacier

The advice from Billy to see the glacier the evening I arrived was spot on as I woke the next morning to the sound of torrential rain. Having got myself ready I opened the curtains to see just how bad it was. The greyness outside was immense, the mountain up near the glacier was not even visible. I pottered for the morning, not wanting to venture out. When it came near to the time to check out and go get my bus I made a dash across from my room to the reception. Despite the fact that it was only twenty feet away I was soaked by the time I got there. Billy was behind the reception desk. I thanked him for the room and for getting me to the glacier the previous day. He leant me an old umbrella so that I could get to the bus stop without being too wet. I joined the fellow passengers huddled under the small shelter waiting for the bus. It took us a long time to load the bus due to several people who had planned on biking to wherever they were headed booking at the last minute. The driver struggled to fit the luggage and bikes into the trailer but about half an hour late we were finally on the way. I have no idea what the scenery between Franz Josef and Queenstown, my next stop, looked like as the windows were all steamed up from the damp passengers. Our driver told us that the weather would be different once we crossed the hills and got nearer to Queenstown. He was right, and by the time I was dropped off in Queenstown the sun was shining. Rather aptly for my travels the bus dropped me off on the corner of Camp Street.

“Yesterday is done, see the pretty countryside” 
Lyrics from Merrily we Roll Along (1961-1960) from the musical Merrily we Roll Along

You kept the key

You're home again, glad you kept the key

You're home again
My journey to Nelson was somewhat of a blur. Literally. I had woken up with a runny nose and itchy eyes so I assumed I must be suffering with hayfever. It took me a while to reach this conclusion, my head telling me that it couldn’t possibly be hayfever in December as it was winter. To make matters worse I had been rubbing my itchy eyes so they were now bright red and streaming. I had picked up some hayfever tablets and eye drops just before I boarded the bus. At least that had been a little easier than when I had been trying to buy them in Buenos Aires and I was not sure I was asking for the right thing. I popped a pill and put some drops in my eyes. I spent most of the bus journey wearing my sunglasses (despite a lack of sun) and tears streaming down my face. It meant that I got a double seat to myself though as nobody wanted to sit next to the strange guy who appeared to be crying.

  

I arrived in Nelson and headed to Ah House, where I would be hosted by my next gay, Mark. Having found the place and met Mark I was introduced to the dog and to his mother, Dot. His husband, John, was off working overseas at the moment. Mark was another ex-pat Brit who had moved across to New Zealand just like David, my first NZ host. They both had a mother called Dot too. I was shown to my room, which was downstairs round the back of the house and overlooked the garden. Mark told me that I was more than welcome to make full use of the garden and enjoy the weather as the sun had now made an appearance. He said that he had to go out with Dot to do some shopping. I headed to the supermarket up the road to get myself some provisions (mainly nibbles and wine) before heading back. I was still feeling a bit rough so I decided to have a little lay down outside and close my eyes for a while. I woke up nearly two hours later, the imprint of the sun lounger across the left side of my face and a small string of dribble hanging from the corner of my mouth. So attractive. It's a wonder I am still single. Luckily there was nobody around to see. It was early evening so I headed indoors to get myself something to eat and have an early night.

The next day I was up and feeling better. The tablets seemed to be doing the trick. I got myself ready and was in the process of faffing around when Mark knocked on the door. He asked me if I was ready for some breakfast and we headed up to the kitchen. I settled in at the dining table and poured myself a big cup of coffee from the pot that was already waiting on the table. We chatted while Mark cooked some bacon so that I could have a bacon buttie. I spied a bottle of HP sauce and couldn’t wait to have some – my first taste since back in Isla Mujeres when my sister had brought a pile of sachets of the stuff with her from Manchester Airport. It was such a reminder of home for me. It didn’t take long for Mark to pick up on my slight northern accent, something which a lot of British people miss. He asked me where I was from and I told him that I was born and bred in Sheffield. He asked me what part and whether I knew Eccleshall Road. I did, having been out drinking at various establishments on it on several occasions when I was at university. He explained that his mum, Dot, used to have a hairdressers on Eccleshall Road. Mark had grown up in Wakefield. I had managed to travel to the other side of the world and was now having breakfast with someone who grew up just up the road from me. 

Mark asked me what plans I had for the day. I told him that I would probably head out for a walk as it was a nice day, hit the “centre of New Zealand” and then back through town. Mark told me that I should aim to be back in town early afternoon as it was the Nelson Santa Parade that afternoon. Having seen the centre of New Zealand, which was at the top of a bloody big hill I headed back in to town for the Santa Parade. I found a spot in the sun near the start of the parade route. I felt a little awkward standing there with my camera, a single grown man, surrounded by families. As the parade started the children of the family next to me pushed there way to the front, having been versed by their mother in how they should stand with both their hands out to get the most sweets from the people in the parade. It was good to see the Christmas spirit alive and well. One of the first groups in the parade had a real donkey with them which proceeded to stop and do a massive poo right in the middle of the street, much to the amusement of everyone. The entire parade that followed had to make a detour round the large steaming pile, the people nearest the poo having to warn the people in the parade on numerous occasions of the hazard.

Glad you kept the key

The parade was a great place to people watch. I watched crowds as much as I watched the parade. I didn’t understand the relevance of all of the floats but appreciated the effort that everyone had clearly put into them. The parade was rounded off by Santa and his reindeer. Mark had told me that the parade had been delayed by a week as the Santa float was used in another parade and someone had driven it into something, damaging a couple of the reindeer. They didn’t look like they had just been in an accident though. After a walk through the town I headed back up to Mark’s. On reaching the place I opened my bag and rooted around for the door keys. I pulled a set out but the didn’t look right. I had another look through my bag and pulled a second set of keys out. Why did I have two sets ok keys? I suddenly realised that the first set were for Shane and Damien’s place in Picton. After nearly six months of travelling I had finally done the thing I had feared and had left with someone’s door keys.

I got straight on to the computer to send a message to Shane but already had one from him asking if I had his keys. I apologised and asked the best way to get the keys back to him. Luckily my bus the next day would be via Blenheim where I had about an hour to kill before continuing on to Christchurch. Shane said that he would be working in Blenheim the following day so he gave me directions to his office so I could hand over the keys. I had been determined not to walk off with anyone’s keys so I was really annoyed with myself. I drowned my sorrows with a glass of wine and watch a Sandra Bullock film on tv. By the next morning my hayfever was gone. I packed my case and headed upstairs. Mark was in the kitchen and asked what I wanted for breakfast. We had a good chat about all things Yorkshire before he and Dot dropped me down in town for my bus to Christchurch via Blenheim. In Blenheim I had enough time to go meet Shane, hand over the door keys, apologise again and be back at the bus stop in time for the next bus down to Christchurch and my next host, Bruce.

“You're home again, glad you kept the key” 
Lyrics from Fallen Angel from the musical Jersey Boys 

On the right track

'Cause each step's indispensable when you're on the right track

'Cause each step's indispensable 

I was met off the ferry in Picton by Shane, one of my next hosts. As we drove up to the house (which was called Gaybles) we chatted about my travels as he had only found out about my blog a couple of days before. He had found the Facebook page and had been worried about the references to Dean as he had thought he was agreeing to host just one person. I reassured him that Dean, given he was a two inch tall plastic toy, wouldn’t take up too much space and that he usually stayed in my bag so wouldn’t need an extra bed. Once at the house I was introduced to Damien, Shane’s husband, and the four dogs.

They asked me if I had eaten dinner and I explained that I had eaten plenty (and drunk plenty) on the ferry on the way over and that I didn’t need any more food. While they had dinner I settled myself into my room and flicked through some of the leaflets for local activities, looking for something to do the following day. I wanted to make sure I made the most of the full day I had exploring the beautiful countryside that was on the doorstep. I asked the boys if they had any recommendations and told them I liked the look of a kayaking trip. They told me that the kayaking was good fun and that the weather was supposed to be good the following day. The other option they suggested was a boat trip out to Ship Cove and then hiking the Queen Charlotte track, which would give me some great views of the Queen Charlotte Sound. I called the kayaking place but they must have gone home for the night so I left a message and a contact number. My evening was rounded off with the three of us enjoying a bottle of wine while relaxing in the hot tub. The clean air, cold wine and hot water soon had me feeling sleepy so said goodnight to the boys and headed to bed.

When I woke the next morning and hadn’t heard back from the kayaking place I decided to go with Plan B and booked on to the boat trip and Queen Charlotte Track hike. I could book that online so I got my computer out and booked. I had a response within minutes of making my booking. They had emailed to check that I had meant to book on to the cruise for today as it was only an hour until it departed. I said yes and that I would be at the harbour within the half hour. Damien dropped me off on his way to work and I headed in to the office to pay for the trip. I chatted to the woman who had emailed me back. She asked me if it was just me. I said it was and she took my payment. I had enough time to pop across the road and grab a coffee and muffin to take with me. As we boarded the boat a different woman was checking the passengers off on her list as we boarded. I handed over my ticket. “Are you on your own?” she asked. For the second time in less than half an hour I explained that yes, I was on my own. I suddenly felt very single. I wondered whether there was a skewed ratio of women to men in Picton so that the arrival of a single man generated a disproportionate amount of excitement amongst the Picton women.

When you're on the right track

As we sailed out of Picton the clouds cleared and the sun came out. It made for a great little crossing over to Ship Cove. Our boat driver gave us some of the history of the place and then those of us who were off on the hike disembarked. We had just over 4 and a half hours to cover the 15km of the Queen Charlotte track before the boat would collect us. My fellow hikers, all couples, set off on the hike. I had company too in the form of Sandi Toksvig on my iPod as I was listening to my back catalogue of podcasts of The News Quiz. I was pleased that there were only a few of us on the walk and there was nobody near me as I must have looked like a bit of a nutter walking along on my own laughing out loud every now and again. I hoped that the route was well sign-posted as I didn’t want to get lost. There was only one path however so it was easy to stay on the right track. The hike was a little challenging, there were some quite steep hills and they were muddy but I made good progress and settled in to the walk.

There was a picnic spot at the top of one of the hills about half way along and I stopped there for a bite to eat. I watched a French couple sat on the bench next to me leave their picnic unattended for a moment during which time the local wildlife pounced, a Weka bird running off with a big hunk of bread. There was a lot of swearing and shouting in French. I’m not sure the bird understood as it came back to have another go at the picnic. I assume it was trying to get something to put in the bread and make a sandwich.

At the end of the trail was the Furneaux Lodge. I had some time to kill before the boat was due to collect me so I sat on the decking with a cold beer, purely for rehydration purposes. I sat for a while writing a few postcards while finishing off my second beer. The rest of the walkers slowly returned too, most enjoying a drink on the deck. We headed down to the dock having seen the boat come round the headland and we were soon on our way back to Picton.  As we approached the harbour in Picton we were joined by a couple of dolphins. I managed to get one decent photo before the battery on my camera died. I walked back up to the house in time to shower and change before heading back in to town with Shane and Damien for dinner. It was a nice evening and we got a table outside Le Café, a great little place where I had an amazing goat curry. After dinner we headed back to the house where we once again finished off our evening with a glass of wine in the hot tub.

After a great night’s sleep I woke the following morning and was pleasantly stiff (in the legs, from the hike of the previous day). I got out of bed and got myself mobile, getting myself ready and packing my case ready to depart. Damien was headed off to work early so I said goodbye and thank you to him before Shane gave me a lift into town. Shane dropped me at the bus stop and I said goodbye and thanks to him for everything too. The bus to my next stop, Nelson, was waiting and I climbed aboard.

“'Cause each step's indispensable when you're on the right track” 
Lyrics from On the right track from the musical Pippin

Cram a lifetime in

Gotta cram a lifetime in before dawn

Gotta cram a lifetime in

The trip to Wellington got off to a bit of a bumpy start. The bus was late in arriving so when it finally turned up there was a bit of a mad rush with everyone trying to get on board as quickly as possible. The British side of me wanted to point out to people that there was a queue and that as we all had tickets we should all have a seat. The new relaxed side of me let a few people push in front. I boarded and found myself a seat towards the rear of the bus as I had noticed that most people tend to be lazy and sit in the seats towards the front. If the bus isn’t full then sitting near the back seemed to give me a better chance of having the double seat to myself. Today though I had no such luck as the bus was full by the time we left. The woman in the seat next to me was not put off conversation by the presence of my iPod headphones. I kept removing the one from my ear nearest to her to hear what she was saying. I would respond and then return the headphone to my ear. She still continued. I hadn’t had a coffee and at that time in the morning I wasn’t that keen on spending several hours chatting to her so after what I deemed an acceptable period of exchanging pleasantries I return to my music and feigned sleep.

One of my next hosts, Dean, was waiting to pick me up at the bus station. Our introductions were all a little rushed as the bus had arrived late and Dean had to be at work very soon. To make matters worse he was having car trouble, one of his tyres had a slow puncture and he was trying to get to the garage to get that fixed. I apologised a couple of times on the short drive up to the house where I was staying. Dean showed me to my room, told me where everything was and headed out again. I knew I didn’t have very long in Wellington, roughly 24 hours, so I headed out for a walk, making my way down to the town centre where I had just come from. I grabbed a sandwich for an early lunch and ate as I walked. 

The weather was not particularly great but I figured I would make my way to Mount Victoria as it was supposed to have some great views over the city. As I made my way there I pondered upon the importance of correct capitalisation of proper nouns. The climb was a little steep and muddy in places but it was worth it once I got to the top. Had the weather been a little nicer it would have made for some stunning photos. I had to settle for some pictures of the city with drab grey skies as the background. When I got back from my walk Dean was home and a lot calmer. He had got the tyre fixed and made his work meetings on time. We had a glass of wine while I filled him in on my afternoon. He told me that if I had time in the morning I should head down to Te Papa to see the exhibition about The Treaty of Waitangi. 

I met up for dinner that night with Koro, a guy I had met back at the start of July when I had been in Ottawa. He ws a native New Zealander and had recently moved back. He was running slightly late so I stood waiting on the street corner where he had suggested we meet. I wondered if there was some practical joke being played with me standing in a spot known to be frequented by ladies of the night. I didn’t get propositioned so I figured not. Koro arrived and we headed to a place he had recommended called Sweet Mother’s Kitchen. It was quite busy and they put us on the list for a table, telling us it would probably be about a half hour wait. That was enough time for us to head to a bar a couple of doors down and get a drink while we waited. He was the first person I had seen in over 3 weeks who I had met before, albeit just the once, and the excitement of this made me talk a lot. I think my response to the question “So what have you been up to?” lasted about twenty minutes with very few pauses for breath. Luckily for Koro his phone rang. Our table was ready. We finished our drinks and retraced our steps to the restaurant.

The food brought memories of my time in New Orleans and Memphis flooding back to me. The menu was full of amazingly tasty sounding food that had, of course, been deep-fried. They even had hush puppies on the menu. As I ate a large plateful of fried chicken I asked Koro what he had been up to since Ottawa and how he was finding it back being in New Zealand. After dinner Koro headed back home and I walked back up to where I was staying. It had been really nice to be able to chat about mutual friends for a while with someone but it was another reminder of how far away from my family and friends I currently felt.

Before dawn

The following morning I was up early so that I could make the most of the few hours I had before I had to leave the North Island. I got myself ready and made my way to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. As I was headed out of my room I bumped into Jeff who was virtually out of the door on his way to work. We got to exchange hellos and put a name to the face before he had to go. Dean was in the kitchen and we chatted for a while. I managed to get all the way over to the parliament building, dubbed The Beehive. I didn’t go inside but contented myself with some photos of Dean (the toy policeman not my host) outside it. I also managed a very brief stop into Te Papa, read both versions of the Treaty. I knew some of my attempts at other languages had been less than successful but at least I hadn’t accidently taken over another country because of any translation errors. My whistlestop tour was soon at an end and I headed back to the house.

Having collected my case from the house I found myself a taxi and was dropped off at the ferry terminal. I checked my suitcase in, waited in the lounge for a while and then joined the queue to board. David, who had helped me organise my travel, had recommended paying the extra to get access to the business lounge on board as it would mean free drinks and food as well as being connected to the internet. I was the first one in to the lounge so had my pick of seats. I suddenly turned into Goldilocks, trying out a couple of different spots (this chair is too far from the plug socket, this chair does not have a nice view out of the window). Having found a spot that was just right (plug socket, good view, near to the bar but not too near) I settled myself in. The lounge was relatively quiet with only a couple of couples taking up some of the other seats that I had ruled out.

After we got underway I figured it would be rude not to have a glass of New Zealand wine given the trouble the country had gone to in making it. I headed to the little bar area and asked what whites were on offer. The guy serving was “one of us” so I returned to my seat with a rather large glass of sauvignon blanc and a little plate full of nibblies. During the crossing my wine glass was kept topped up. I noticed that I seemed to be the only person getting table service, not that I was complaining. Thinking back I had seen relatively few “service” gays on my trip so far. I struggled to recall seeing a gay flight attendant which given the number of flights I had made was quite a poor showing. There is always the hope that on boarding the plane there will be that knowing look exchanged which might result in being bumped up or at the very least guarantee a steady supply of gin on board. It reminded me of a story I had read about the Queen Mother, who upon being warned by a Tory MP not to employ homosexuals, turned to him and said “We'd have to go self-service”. By the time the ferry docked in Picton I was merry.

“Gotta cram a lifetime in before dawn” 
Lyrics from Boys’ll be boys from the musical The Pirate Queen

I seen a ghost

Then like I seen a ghost, man I'll be movin' my feet

Then like I seen a ghost 

Robert dropped me off in the town centre the next morning and I called in to next place I was staying, The Masonic Hotel, where I would be the guest of Craig and Neil. It was still pretty early and the receptionist showed me to the luggage room so I could leave my case while I went to explore. I had some time to kill before I could check in so I found a nearby coffee shop so I could get myself a nice flat white (my new favourite coffee) and some breakfast. While I munched my way through a muffin (that’s not a euphemism) I read through a booklet for a self-guided Art Deco walk that Robert had given me. It was a nice day so having finished my coffee I set off on the walk.

The coffee shop I was in was near the start of the walk so it was easy to find the building marked number 1 on the map. The route itself was circular so I could have started where I was and done the first few places on the route last but I like to start at the very beginning (it’s a very good place to start I’ve been told). It took me the whole morning to do the entire walk which finished at the Art Deco Shop where I called in to buy a couple of postcards for the family to add to the collection. I queued patiently behind a couple of little old ladies who were chatting away to the woman behind the counter about how much they had enjoyed seeing all the 1930s building. I suspected they were probably of the same vintage as the buildings.

Back at the Masonic having checked in and settled in to my room I made my way to reception, in an attempt to find Craig. He had been the guy that I had been emailing following the introduction from David at Gay Travel. The receptionist was talking to someone so I waited until she had finished her conversation with the man, who remained at the reception desk. I asked if Craig was around and the man who had been talking to the receptionist asked why I wanted to speak to him. I explained who I was and why I wanted to speak to him, without mentioning the 80 Gays thing as I didn’t know who he was. The man turned out to be Craig’s partner Neil. He told me that Craig was busy but said he was free and asked me if I fancied a glass of wine. I said I could probably manage one so we made our way to the hotel bar.

After me telling Neil about my travels we chatted about the history of the hotel. The current building was in fact the third Masonic Hotel on the site. The first building was destroyed by a fire  back in the 1890s. The second building also fell victim to fire that followed the 1931 earthquake. The current Art Deco hotel was built during the build post-earthquake rebuild and was the longest standing of the three hotels. The hotel was undergoing refurbishment and many of the Art Deco features are being restored. It has such character and is a little like stepping in to a film set. I half expected to see Hercule Poirot walking in to solve some mystery that had just unfolded in one of the rooms. Neil also told me that the place is reportedly haunted, with staff and guests both claiming to have seen ghostly apparitions. Neil had to head off to a meeting so I thanked him for the wine and the history lesson. The two glasses of wine had gone to my head a little as I had not had anything to eat since breakfast. I headed out to get something from the nearest supermarket and had a room picnic.

Craig called me that evening and asked what plans I had for the following day. I told him that I had nothing concrete planned if he had suggestions. In reality I hadn’t even thought about what I would do. He said he would be around so suggested a bit of a tour of the city and then calling in at a local winery. I said that sounded like a good plan. I had a quiet evening in watching a bit of TV and chilling. As I was drifting off to sleep there was suddenly a loud bang from in my room. I sat bolt upright in bed, heart pounding. I switched on the lamp and looked round, the stories of the place being haunted racing through my head. The cause wasn’t supernatural and I didn’t need to be Hercule Poirot to solve the mystery. The picture that had been hanging on the wall above the sofa was now on the sofa, the adhesive hook that it was hanging from had come off. Relieved that I wasn’t sharing the room with a ghost I headed back to sleep.

Man I'll be movin' my feet

The next morning I was up and out for a spot of breakfast and a walk before heading back to the hotel where I met Craig. Our tour of the city took in a couple of places that hadn’t been on the walking tour of the previous day. We headed up to the top of Bluff Hill Domain to get a good look of the city from up high. From the vantage point it was really easy to see the vast tract of land that had risen from beneath the sea after the 1931 earthquake. Our tour took us out along the coast and up into the gorgeous countryside that New Zealand is known for. People kept telling me that the South Island was even more stunning, which meant it must be pretty spectacular given the current amazing views I had.

After it reached a respectable hour to start drinking (11am) we made our way to Craggy Range, a nearby winery in Hawke’s Bay wine country. It wasn’t a label I had heard of before. The woman doing our tasting asked me if I had much experience of New Zealand wines. I had to admit that I would struggle to name more than one NZ wine, Oyster Bay being the only one that sprung to mind. It tended to get lumped in with Australian wine in the supermarket that I frequented. I tasted everything that she poured out for me, studiously avoiding use of the spittoon. Purchases were made before we headed off on our tour, taking in Havelock and Hasting North before having a late lunch and finally returning to Napier. I thanked Craig for the tour and headed up to my room where I had a little siesta. I would be leaving Napier early in the morning to head to my final stop on the North Island, Wellington, so I made sure my case was packed before heading out for a spot of dinner and an early night. Nothing went bump in the night and I slept soundly until my alarm went off the next morning, telling me it was time to move on again.

“Then like I seen a ghost, man I'll be movin' my feet” 
Lyrics from Dancin’ on the sidewalk from the musical Fame

Whorehouse

Texas has a whorehouse in it

Texas has a whorehouse in it

My next two hosts, one in Rotorua, the other at my next stop Napier, were two who had stories that were probably about as different from each other as possible. I think had I met them at the start of my trip I would have found spending time with them difficult and I would have been embarrassed asking them questions but after six months of travelling and being a lot more open to meeting new people than I was before I left I managed. I found them both very pleasant, gracious hosts and fascinating to talk to.

The first of the two was Allan. I was back in the centre of Rotorua and he was to be my third and final Rotorua host. He had said that he would collect me so after a spot of lunch I gave him a call to ask him where was best to meet. A while later I spotted his car and he pulled up at the side of me and popped the boot open. I put my case in and got in the passenger seat. I was a little taken aback by the two women and two dogs in the back of the car. I was introduced to Pip and Trace (the women) and we headed up to Allan’s. We congregated round the breakfast bar in the kitchen where there were nibbles, a bottle of wine being duly cracked open. Allan asked me to explain my trip, admitting that his secretary had actually dealt with the organisation of me staying and he had only got part of the story from her.

I filled the three of them in on my travels, the whole purpose of 80 Gays and where I had been to date. They all seemed very interested in my travels and I soon had questions coming from three directions. Having answered questions for a while I decided it was time to move the focus from me and asked them to tell me a bit about them. It was at this point when I found out that Pip and Trace weren’t a couple. I chatted for a while with Trace about her work (she grows orchids) and showed her some of the photos of the ones I had seen in the Botanical Gardens in Rio. She then showed me photos of her orchids, huge greenhouses filled with the delicate flowers. I didn’t admit to her that I had managed to kill every single houseplant that had ever crossed the threshold into my place.

Allan cooked dinner for us all and was quite the dab hand in the kitchen. I had lost count of the number of bottles of wine had been opened. The three of them kept me entertained with their stories and I felt so comfortable in their company. I knew once more that I had instantly made some new friends. Instead of adding hot water like you do to most instant things for instant friends you just need to add cold wine (and maybe a couple of hot stories?). We retired to the lounge for coffee and dessert, a fruit crumble that reminded me of childhood Sunday lunches when Mother would have done a crumble for “afters”, usually with rhubarb from the garden or with winberries that we had picked from the nearby countryside. The topic of conversation over dessert, however, was a new one even to me.

I asked Allan if he had another job apart from the bed and breakfast. He looked at Pip and Trace and said “What do you think?”. Pip answered by saying “I think it will be fine. Tell him”. My mind was racing with the possibilities about what I was about to be told. As long as it wasn’t that he harvested organs from unsuspecting British travellers I figured I would be fine. Allan proceeded to tell me that he owned and ran two brothels (it being legal in New Zealand) and that I should feel free to ask him any questions I had. I sat in silence for a while as I processed the information. Trace said that she had only found out recently too. I felt honoured that after only a few hours of knowing me he felt comfortable enough to share this information. When I finally managed to speak the first question I asked smacked of me being an ex-accountant. “So how does it all work from a tax perspective?” I asked. I’m sure that is not the normal first question he gets asked. Allan answered all of my questions, and a few that Trace asked too. Of the many questions I asked I remember I asked about how the “interview” process for new employees worked, what they did about safe sex, who did the laundry, whether he employed men as well as women (he did, but I didn’t use their services) and did they have to fill in timesheets. It was nice to be on the asking end of a long line of questions rather than on the answering end.

The following morning I woke up fairly early and I could hear Pip and Trace were up too so I pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt and made my way to the kitchen. Pip and Trace had the kettle on and they asked if I wanted a coffee. They asked me how I was doing after the revelations of the previous night. I told them that I was fine and had found it genuinely interesting. I said that I hoped I hadn’t been asking too many questions but apparently I hadn’t. It still seemed a little surreal to me and it made me realise that I’d not really given too much thought to the potential range of hosts I could end up meeting. Had someone said to me before I had set off that I would end up being hosted by someone who ran a couple of brothels I’m not sure how I would have reacted.

After coffee at the house and everyone showering (separately) and getting ready we headed into town for a proper coffee before Allan took us on a little tour out round Rotorua, taking in the Redwood forest, the Blue and Green lakes. I was dropped back in town so I could get myself some brunch before my bus to Napier. Robert collected me that evening from the bus stop in Napier and we headed up to his. Having never been to Napier before Robert told me about its history and how it came to have its Art Deco architecture. This was the result of a massive earthquake back in 1931 that destroyed the city. When the city was rebuilt the Art Deco was the fashion so the vast majority of the buildings were built in that style. Many of them had survived to the present day and there had been a conservation effort to stop them being pulled down and replaced with modern buildings. The sheer quantity of them made the place unique.

Over dinner we chatted about family. Robert had spent most of his life married, his wife having passed away some years ago. He had two grown up children, his son was a similar age to me and lived and worked in London. I didn’t want to pry into his personal life so I never found out if he was bisexual or if he was gay but had married because at the time that was the done thing. I felt fortunate to live in a society that was becoming more accepting of diversity, where I could be openly gay. Don’t get me wrong, there is still a very long way to go on that journey but progress is slowly being made. The conversation over dinner that night certainly gave me plenty to think about when I went to bed that night and gave perspective to my travels to date.

“Texas has a whorehouse in it” 
Lyrics from Texas has a whorehouse in it from the musical Best Little Whorehouse in Texas