Having been in Auckland for more than a week now, it's surprising how quickly I have gotten absorbed in the frayed tapestry of the city of sails. The daily, unbeknownst to them, actors on my observed stage of the municipality includes the obese tramp, whose misfitting tight t-shirt reveals his depressed paunch to the world along with the young transvestite, easily distinguishable with his towering 6'6" frame always found alone outside the McCafe with a milkshake clutched within his vainy hands. There is also a stumpy magician who tragically shadows passing children with his open palm of bent cards as his purple glittered top hat barely covers his wiry brow. Finally, there is the Quaker dressed God-fearers, proclaiming their desire to be freed from temptation. Their ruddy cheeks, coarse from icy hollers, is a strange reminder of faded oil paintings from a different time. I've also encountered some unusual and colourful characters at my hostel. Those of you who have lived on the road will be aware of the strange people from around the globe who crawl out from the wooden floorboards and into the stale pit of a traveller's den. Some folk have been forgettable (though by writing about them, they will now be shamefully remembered), such as the brash Canadian boy who hilariously carried a dog eared copy of J.R.R. Tolkein's finest under his arm wherever he ventured, to add authenticity to his purposeful steps, I presume. Two other room mates of mine, Bart from Eindhoven and Anthony (not his real name) from Seoul provided many an entertaining evening. Bart and I couldn't really understand poor Anthony, but in his endearing attempt to improve his grasp of the English syntax, decided to stay within close proximity to us at all times. Sometimes too close. Once we established the neccesary parameters, we were quite the trio of hell raisers around town.
Bart-man and I at Albert Park. Anthony not pictured, for legal reasons.
In the month of February, Auckland hosts the Lantern Festival, a celebration of the Chinese New Year with, as the name suggests, softly lit lanterns hung solemnly around Albert Park. On a Friday afternoon, armed with a few copper tinged bottles of Speight Ale, a generous portion of grapes (red, seedless and quite sour) and packet of pale mini cookies, we headed down to the jubilee to glimpse the wonderful array of lamps on show. They ranged from a large laughing Buddha sat composed on the roots of an oak tree to the dangling monkey beacons from nearby branches next to the gold-yellow and red dragon lanterns peering out of the fountain, complete with mechanical twisting heads. Unfortunately, security at the festival were patrolling in numbers and on spying our crate of poison, asked us firmly to pour the liquid away from the bottles and escorted us, with more than a suggestion of hostility, out of the premises down the banks of the grassy hill, following the narrow bronze tributaries created by our lost beer.
Bart-man and I at Albert Park. Anthony not pictured, for legal reasons.
In the month of February, Auckland hosts the Lantern Festival, a celebration of the Chinese New Year with, as the name suggests, softly lit lanterns hung solemnly around Albert Park. On a Friday afternoon, armed with a few copper tinged bottles of Speight Ale, a generous portion of grapes (red, seedless and quite sour) and packet of pale mini cookies, we headed down to the jubilee to glimpse the wonderful array of lamps on show. They ranged from a large laughing Buddha sat composed on the roots of an oak tree to the dangling monkey beacons from nearby branches next to the gold-yellow and red dragon lanterns peering out of the fountain, complete with mechanical twisting heads. Unfortunately, security at the festival were patrolling in numbers and on spying our crate of poison, asked us firmly to pour the liquid away from the bottles and escorted us, with more than a suggestion of hostility, out of the premises down the banks of the grassy hill, following the narrow bronze tributaries created by our lost beer.
On another occasion, whilst attempting to amuse ourselves, Bart needed advice on a New Zealand cruise tour as a request from his Mother back in Holland, who is currently planning a binge fueled journey to the Pacific next year. We headed to the third floor of the hostel where the tour guides held office and whilst conversing jovially with Dan, the local vacation expert, he mentioned to us that we ought to seek Anna from the SkyTower Tourism Information Centre for further help. Foolishly Dan confided in us that he held quite the flame for Anna and this coveted information was savagely divulged to the rosy cheeked girl once we arrived at the SkyTower. When we had returned to the hostel, Dan lynched us and could not hide his agitation as Anna had called him, soon after our visit, informing him that he 'was a total creep' and would slap him furiously across the grill when they next met. Mission accomplished.
We also made a firm acquaintance with a bouncer from the downstairs Globe Bar. Tommy has most of his front teeth missing and his physique is that of a forceful mountain. However, he has a Pacifica's heart of merit, and on hearing of our consistent moans on our impeding hunger, provided us with a free large Domino's pizza voucher as well as treating us to a fine glass of Tui's to drown our sorrows. A far cry from the loathsome philistines guarding the late night holes by the cobbled streets of the Thames.
Some of you may be curious (and if not, why not) as to how one can fill a day, what without the security of a job or any family or friends to dictate the calendar. Much like Will Freeman in the Nick Hornby novel About A Boy, I fill the void of the passing clock with units of activity to flesh out the bare bones of the waking hours. As an example, here's a brief run through as to how I spent my Monday this week. Not to worry, It's not as thorough as James Joyce's Ulysses:
8am, woken up by camp Israeli groaning in his sleep in dormitory. Take shower. 10 second timer on power jet is infuriating. Utilise posterior to keep water button constant. Hands free to lather and rinse. Dress hurriedly in room. Buy banana from grey haired Asian newsagent. 70 cents. Cheapest banana yet. Walk to Gloria Jeans Coffee House. Order Flat White. Browse Time magazine. Blitz free wi-fi on PSP. Unable to view sites due to lack of memory. Too many special images on my portable. Shan't delete them. Grab sushi at Black Roll. Four pieces. Under $4. Still hungry. Go to Shoe Warehouse. Buy trekking shoes. Kiwi size 10. Orange and brown. Awful. Purchase regular trainers. Make: Sopranos. Kiwi size 8. Pretty bad design. Very economical. Go to Albert Park. Read in the shade of a totara tree. Can't concentrate. Girl beside me speaks at break neck speed to her friend in a high pitch and with subtle lisp. Teenager asks for some water. Provide him with some water. Fills flask. Walks away briskly to his friends. Utilises water for bong. Teenagers smoke bong. Security catches them. Teenagers get arrested. Walk to harbour. Take photos of boats. Photos are dreadful. Delete photos. Go to Right Track bar. Promise to play rerun of Carling Cup Final at 5pm. Break promise. Speak to Italian guy about merits of Serie A. Does not rate Manchester United. Quickly leave. Walk down the High Street. Two Hare Krishna's approach me. Like my name. Invite me to Full Moon party. Dispose of flyer. Dinner at Japanese restaurant Kiraku. Order Gyoza with cabbage and rice. Too much soy sauce. Visit Jax Irish Bar. Promise to play rerun of Carling Cup Final at 8pm. Keep promise. Turn down offer to play Monday Night Bingo with locals. United victorious. Celebrate with caramel sundae from McDonalds. Go to dormitory. Israeli guy already asleep. Israeli guy talking in his sleep. Keep i-Pod on. Sleep.
View from Myers Park out to Judge's Bay
I have resigned to postponing my work commitments (or lack thereof) for now, instead to embark on a bus tour of the North and South islands before the conclusion of summer, beginning early tomorrow morning with Stray travel. A Chinese proverb states that the journey is the reward, but spending time crammed on a coach with an over eager guide may prove a step too far. We'll see.
Auckland - A week in Pictures
I've satisfied my appetite to view some recently released films, and have now seen Shutter Island and Crazy Heart at the local IMAX towards the peak of Queen Street. Shutter Island, the new movie from Martin Scorsese and his current muse, Leonardo Di Caprio, is a film of the unexpected. Scorsese seems to have found a new genre of film, in between Horror, Suspense and Psychological Thriller. http://www.shutterisland.com/
Crazy Heart, which many have dubbed this year's The Wrestler, stars Jeff Bridges as an alcoholic country musician whose star is dramatically on the wane. The score is brilliant (I've always had a soft spot for the slide guitar and charming prose from some of the finer country music performers such as Gram Parsons, Glen Campbell, Johnny Cash and Whiskeytown) and Bridges is excellent - hence his Oscar nod for this year. The film was rather stale though and did not linger in the memory like the redemption and failings that were found in Mickey Rourke's career defining performance in The Wrestler as he sighed "I'm an old broken down piece of meat".
I've also spent a little time in the hostel TV Room, and saw the just above average Yes Man (though I haven't read Danny Wallace's book, so can't really compare). I may have raised this above mediocre because of the co-starring - and once again fine like an Italian wine - Zooey Deschanel. Finally, on a big screen frenzy of a week, I watched Marley and Me (please don't think little of me for this confession) and the hemorrhoid inducing Meet Dave - the Eddie Murphy vehicle where Prince Akeem plays an alien landing on Liberty Island in a quest to find a fallen asteroid.
Oh, dear Lord.
8am, woken up by camp Israeli groaning in his sleep in dormitory. Take shower. 10 second timer on power jet is infuriating. Utilise posterior to keep water button constant. Hands free to lather and rinse. Dress hurriedly in room. Buy banana from grey haired Asian newsagent. 70 cents. Cheapest banana yet. Walk to Gloria Jeans Coffee House. Order Flat White. Browse Time magazine. Blitz free wi-fi on PSP. Unable to view sites due to lack of memory. Too many special images on my portable. Shan't delete them. Grab sushi at Black Roll. Four pieces. Under $4. Still hungry. Go to Shoe Warehouse. Buy trekking shoes. Kiwi size 10. Orange and brown. Awful. Purchase regular trainers. Make: Sopranos. Kiwi size 8. Pretty bad design. Very economical. Go to Albert Park. Read in the shade of a totara tree. Can't concentrate. Girl beside me speaks at break neck speed to her friend in a high pitch and with subtle lisp. Teenager asks for some water. Provide him with some water. Fills flask. Walks away briskly to his friends. Utilises water for bong. Teenagers smoke bong. Security catches them. Teenagers get arrested. Walk to harbour. Take photos of boats. Photos are dreadful. Delete photos. Go to Right Track bar. Promise to play rerun of Carling Cup Final at 5pm. Break promise. Speak to Italian guy about merits of Serie A. Does not rate Manchester United. Quickly leave. Walk down the High Street. Two Hare Krishna's approach me. Like my name. Invite me to Full Moon party. Dispose of flyer. Dinner at Japanese restaurant Kiraku. Order Gyoza with cabbage and rice. Too much soy sauce. Visit Jax Irish Bar. Promise to play rerun of Carling Cup Final at 8pm. Keep promise. Turn down offer to play Monday Night Bingo with locals. United victorious. Celebrate with caramel sundae from McDonalds. Go to dormitory. Israeli guy already asleep. Israeli guy talking in his sleep. Keep i-Pod on. Sleep.
View from Myers Park out to Judge's Bay
I have resigned to postponing my work commitments (or lack thereof) for now, instead to embark on a bus tour of the North and South islands before the conclusion of summer, beginning early tomorrow morning with Stray travel. A Chinese proverb states that the journey is the reward, but spending time crammed on a coach with an over eager guide may prove a step too far. We'll see.
Auckland - A week in Pictures
I've satisfied my appetite to view some recently released films, and have now seen Shutter Island and Crazy Heart at the local IMAX towards the peak of Queen Street. Shutter Island, the new movie from Martin Scorsese and his current muse, Leonardo Di Caprio, is a film of the unexpected. Scorsese seems to have found a new genre of film, in between Horror, Suspense and Psychological Thriller. http://www.shutterisland.com/
Crazy Heart, which many have dubbed this year's The Wrestler, stars Jeff Bridges as an alcoholic country musician whose star is dramatically on the wane. The score is brilliant (I've always had a soft spot for the slide guitar and charming prose from some of the finer country music performers such as Gram Parsons, Glen Campbell, Johnny Cash and Whiskeytown) and Bridges is excellent - hence his Oscar nod for this year. The film was rather stale though and did not linger in the memory like the redemption and failings that were found in Mickey Rourke's career defining performance in The Wrestler as he sighed "I'm an old broken down piece of meat".
I've also spent a little time in the hostel TV Room, and saw the just above average Yes Man (though I haven't read Danny Wallace's book, so can't really compare). I may have raised this above mediocre because of the co-starring - and once again fine like an Italian wine - Zooey Deschanel. Finally, on a big screen frenzy of a week, I watched Marley and Me (please don't think little of me for this confession) and the hemorrhoid inducing Meet Dave - the Eddie Murphy vehicle where Prince Akeem plays an alien landing on Liberty Island in a quest to find a fallen asteroid.
Oh, dear Lord.
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