12 Days of the Diamond Princess and beyond!

It's been a month since I have updated my blog. I have been busy riding the wave of these travels and haven't spent much down time until now. I am currently in Bangkok, Thailand. I am going to be here for a month total. My next plan was to go to Egypt to see the ancient pyramids and other monuments. Over the last few days a political upheaval and civil unrest has broken out and  US citizens there are doing their best to get out of Egypt. The US government is making special arrangements to get them out, but word about this operation isn't traveling very fast there. The Egyptian government has shut down communications and the internet, therefore those Americans trapped in Egypt may not even be aware of the efforts to get them out. It will be interesting to see how these events unfold in the days and months ahead.


Everything ██is█████ ████ ████fine ███ █ ████ love. ████ █████ the ███ Egypt ███ ████ government ██


My cruise was amazing. It was the first cruise I have ever been on. It was aboard the Princess Diamond Cruise. A thousand foot long ship that carries 3,000 passengers and about 1,100 crew. Pure luxury and beautiful sites. This was an Abraham-Hicks cruise, (The Teachings of Abraham) Click to learn more. Seven hundred plus group of like minded, positive, inspired, tuned-in, turned on, tapped in, conscious creators & manifestors all together on one luxury cruise liner. It was fantastic. We played, laughed, cried, and all grew together in a beautiful harmonious, synergistic, and energetic way. It was amazing. 


After my embarkation I felt a little sad because I had left behind an amazing adventure and an amazing people in Auckland, New Zealand, which by the way may be in running for friendliest place on Earth. I was also sad because I was in a state of confusion about my past lover. When I left Chicago we had a beautiful time together and to quote him directly, he "has come down from that high" and was back to being himself again....whatever that means. I guess it means he was back to his old pattern. No longer in deep appreciation, or being his authentic self, and his eagerness had passed.  I was still riding my high, well, because that's who I am, a Happy, Fabulous, and a Lover of a person. I'm thankful that this is who I am....


Here I was left with this wet blanket on me, all the while having the time of my life. My energy was split. Do I stay or do I go. Do I pursue my lover or do I not... The truth is I had no choice in the matter. Life was moving forward and at a rapid pace, about 40 knots to be exact, and whether my lover or I would ever be together was in short, irrelevant (to quote Abraham). As was the daunting concept of what to do with my life after my adventure abroad. It was all irrelevant. One of my concerns was that my heart was in two places (with my lover) and (gaining closer over my lover). Does any of this sound familiar to you? 


My only job, my only purpose, my only responsibility was and is to feel good, connect with my source, and to relax about life. In doing this I resonate with my fabulous self that I have come to know and love. That's it. Everything else is irrelevant. That's what I learned on this cruise. If I were to sum it all up. I learned this lesson on a much deeper level than just the intellectual. I learned it experientially. It was a tipping point experience. My energy has shifted. This lesson can be applied to all things in my life. The lover, the bank account, the business, the career, health, fears, it all becomes irrelevant and what shines through is the relationship that I have with my self and that I control what I can, and that is my happiness. I look back on my life, it has been in those times that I have been most relaxed and that things have worked out best for me. Yes it has taken a practice and a discipline, in those times life has unfolded in the most beautiful and perfect way, and much more fabulous than I could try to do with action and force.


It's like when you have a perfect day. Everything just flows naturally. The perfect people show up and it seems no work at all. In fact it feels like play. Natural and delightful play time. That's what this cruise became. We toured gorgeous New Zealand. Saw the Fjords. Ate like kings and queens. And partied non stop. We had our workshops with Abraham and we grew together in the beauty of the truth of our freedom to be creators in our world, each of us a powerhouse. Though the weather wasn't always perfect and there were times when the exaggerated movement of the ship would remind us we were on the ocean, it was perfect, relaxed, and flowing.






It was the longest 12 days of my life and I mean that in a very good way. Time just seemed to stand still.  My first real adventure off the ship was in Dunedin, NZ. A group of friends and I were walking down the port and I heard someone yell "Dustin!". It was a couple of my fellow "Abrahamsters" that I had sat with the day before in the workshop. They were in a shifty van that said "Personalized Tours" on it. Our tour guide was a true local with a very dry and unfilitered sense of humor. She was cynical about her city but yet in way you could feel her true love for it. We joined the group and it would end up being the most fabulous day. It was filled with crazy weather that consisted of all four seasons, high winds, hail and beautiful sun. Lots of laugher and the most delicous fried fresh blue cod and chips that were out of this world. It really was the best fish and chips I have ever had. 

                       
We even high jacked a tour at the Oleveston Mansion. It was a paid tour. We just didn't go inside. We ran around the gardens, the greenhouse, used their bathroom, and smelled the lavender. One of my cohorts even ate a few of the sugar snap peas out of the garden, which, were way over mature. Really she was helping them out. When we first came up the driveway we saw a fleet of vintage luxury limousines and someone said "Oh, the Hicks are here" as in the Hicks of Abraham-Hicks Publications. It was Esther and Jerry and their entourage. For a brief moment I felt that I wanted to be in that entourage and riding in the fleet of limos. And I delighted in the idea. 


One of my cohorts had said at the beginning of the day that if she didn't see seals that she would be "devastated". This was not the tour to see the Albatrose and the Seals. It was the Town and Country Personalized tour, seals were not part of the deal. For guaranteed seals we would need to drive about an hour drive outside of Dunedin. Our guide had said she had seen some seals by her house and in fact her neighbors tiny dog was snatched up by one of the seals just the other day and taken for a swim in the seals mouth. Miraculously the little dog survived the adventure unscathed and with its life. 




Would you believe that not only did we find seals, but we found a Mother and her pup nursing and sunning on the beach. The joy and the magic of the moment was felt by the group. It was as if our tour guide and staged the whole thing. Those seals were totally cool about us being there. Taking photos and videos the whole time and just reeling with excitement. Later that day as we floated away we saw a beautiful rainbow. For the remainder of our cruise we were followed by three Albatross. Omens.

A friend that I made on the cruise was a playful type. When I met her she was wearing devil horns and her friend was wearing a princess tierra. That's how we met actually, I called out to her and her friend as we were descending the stairs for our emergency drill that I was jealous of her tierra and wanted to know how I could get one. We hit it off right away and talked all through the emergency information. She sent me off on a scavenger hunt. Not the traditional scavenger hunt by any means. I was sent on this hunt alone and it was a search for people that would have clues for my next link in the chain. During my pursuit of clue gathering  I was forced to get on my knees and beg, give a foot massage, run around and quack like a duck, and sing Kenny Roger's song the Gambler. My final clue brought me back to my new friend where I sang her "You are my Sunshine". I received my prize. A bottle of Penal Noir (no not a typo), her book, and yes the princess Tierra. Which I did wear for the rest of the night. I was crowned the Princess of the Diamond Princess. A proper title. I had gone from Miss America in New Zealand to The Princess on my cruise. I think I'm getting accustomed to being given fabulous feminin nick names :)

All in all we went to Taurunga, Christchurch, and Donedin New Zealand, cruised through the Fjords of New Zealand aka The Marlborough Sounds, Tazmania, Melbourne, and eventually disembarked in Sydney, Australia. We spent 12 days at sea and in port. Ate 12 fabulous fine dinners, and spent 12 hours with Abraham and made friendships that will last a lifetime. Not too shabby and definitely a good return on investment. Most importantly I made peace with my past and also with my future that I could relax and enjoy the moment and prioritize what is really important, my relationship with me. 

Getting 3,000 people off of a ship and through customs is a bit of an ordeal. They organized us by groups. I, through some act of fait, ended up in the pink group. How appropriate. As I meandered my way through the drama of the customs process I found myself exiting out to the wharf what is known as "Circular Quay". Little did I know this would become a popular destination for me in the next two weeks ahead.


Outside I ran into a group of ladies that I had befriended at the nightly LGBT gatherings on the ship and also fellow "Abrahamsters". They said "Dustin where are you going?" and before I could answer they told me to put my bags in their rental car. I had been abducted by three lesbians. It was no worry to me. We had already spent days together on the ship and tour Tasmania and Melbourne together. We tooled around Sydney, had some bad seafood, and one of them told me stories of their childhood growing up there. We even drove by her childhood home, which wasn't far from where I would be staying. 


I would be staying in Caringbah, NSW. A far out suburb from Sydney. In retrospect I wish I would have found somewhere to stay a little closer to the city, but the price was right and it was only a forty minuet train ride to the heart of Sydney. I was staying with a nice gay couple. An older caucasion and his significantly younger malaysian partner. They were wonderful to me, went far beyond the responsibility of host or landlord. It was very important to him that I experience Sydney. I was a lazy tourist at this point. To be honest the cruise took it out of me. I partied harder than usual and every other day was at port and was an adventure. I laid kind of low for the first couple of days. Still made it to the Opera Bar at the Sydney Opera house and to Vintage on the rocks, a Portuguese Tapas place and share some paella and a seafood pizza. Yum, and the owner is a gorgeous gorgeous man too :)


I made it into the city very often and made it down to the famously gay Oxford Street. Rainbow flags were everywhere. I even attended a "Fruits in Suits" event. It was heaven. Beautifully dressed, attractive, professional gay men. I had to pinch myself to be sure it was real. From my neck of the woods if you see a homosexual in a suit it's probably for the gay prom. I was also in heaven at Midnight Shift, a bar that attracts mainly bad vodka and asians. I'm what they call sticky rice, an asian who likes asian. Actually I like attractive men, some happen to be asian. I fell in love with Sydney because of the men. Between the fruits in suits and the beautiful gayasians at Midnight Shift I thought I had died and gone to gay heaven. 


I did a 9k bush walk, traveled to the blue mountains and celebrated Australia day. A drunken part aboriginie hear me wishing my friends a "Happy Australia Day!" and he corrected me by telling me that it was aptly named "Invasion Day". Unlike the US's Fourth of July celebration marking the day that the US won its independence from Great Britain, Australia Day is the day that Captain Cook landed near to where I was staying in, Cronulla, just south of Sydney. 


This is when the corruption of the Abroringinies began by the white man. The story is the same as all cultures that were destroyed. It involves wars, plagues, looting, converting, and just an absolute desecration of culture. There is one strange detail that went on as late as 1970 and that is what is known as the "stolen generation". Where the children of the aborignies were taken in geniocide to abolish the race all together. Since that time the government of Australia has made a formal apology and have give the Aboriginies huge benefits. From what I understand these benefits, though on paper look very very generous really just enable their impoverishment, alcoholism, drug abuse, and deterioration of their culture. Any of this sound familiar to you.


Australia is a beautiful country that is richly diverse and a wonderful place. Sydney is a beautiful city with a large and vastly populated gay community. A day will come when I return. It was a wonderful place to relax and to enjoy and to party. 

Brillant but messy New Years celebration in Auckland NZ!

 When I was at my Christmas party I heard some of the guys talking about their plans. One of them was the previous manager of the local gay bar called "Family" and he was invited to an exclusive private party at the Hilton Penthouse by the owner of Family. I chimed in that I "needed" to be at the party. He said "Sorry Love, it's invite only."
I said "Oh, but I'd love to go! Is there anything that you can do?" 
"I don't think so....it's invite only" he reiterated.
"Just tell them that I'm from America, and kind of a big deal, and that I need to be there" I said neurotically.


One of the guys chimed in and said "Yes! Just tell him that Miss America is coming!" That has become my nickname here in New Zealand. Miss America. Fitting actually. Fabulous, neurotic, extremely outgoing, and I have a lovely wave. That was that. He said he would try.


My brawny malaysian invited me to a Barbecue at his place with a bunch of guys that I had met over the last few weeks that I was here. The plan was to have drinks and dinner there, and then walk down to the Family bar closer to midnight. The day before New Year's I texted my contact for the posh private party. No response. I thought damn, it didn't come through. How strange because I'm so good at manifesting what it is I desire. But I did what any good manifestor would do, I made peace about it, relaxed and knew in the deepest part of myself that it would work out.


Then on New Year's Eve day I decided I would give it one more shot and sent a text to my contact. He responded with a sincere apology and regrets that I would not be attending. Then the miracle happened. I received a text saying "Good News you're in meet me at the Hilton at 9PM." I was very excited but thought 9PM? Too early. And I wanted to hang out at the Barbecue for a bit with my friends. I decided I would show up a bit late to the Hilton, hang out for a bit at my friends and then cab it down there. I texted my contact and let him know I was running behind. He called a while later and asked how long I would be. I was just getting changed and ready so I told a little white lie and said I was waiting on a cab and would be there shortly.


The Hilton is on the viaduct in the harbor in Auckland. The taxi was weaving between idiot drivers and idiot pedestrians. We rolled all the way down to the end near the water and he dropped me off. My contact for the party met me at the elevator and with security card in hand unlocked the elevator and pressed the top floor penthouse button. I knew I was in for a good time.


The elevator opened directly inside the suite. It was a monstrous 5,000 sq foot penthouse that took up the entire top floor. It was beautiful to say the least. The views were stunning. Windows and balconies all the way around. You could see out over the ocean and on the other side over the city center. It was totally pimp.

I had a good pre-buzz going on and these gents were about to make me transform into fully buzzed. Something I usually avoid at all costs because it vanquishes any hope of maintaining my fabulousness and transforms it into disastrous behavior and situations. But it was New Year's...right? They were pouring Veuve Cliquot like it was water and there was an open bar. It was an intimate party, which felt strange in such a ginormous place. 


I had a good time and met some fabulous guys. There were several plastics and misfits aboard the Queen Hilton Penthouse. One guy that I made out (remember disastrous situations from before) was wearing basketball shorts and a collared shirt. He was remarkably pretty but a hot mess none the less. I was told after my make out session that he was a ''rent boy" aka gay for pay. Well I got mine for free, not that I would have paid for that under any conditions. Guess I was still on the fabulous side of my drunkenness at that point.


Then came the vodka and red bull. Oops (picture innocent smile) and it was on. Usually I avoid mixing alcohols i.e. fine french champagne and vodka. But it's New Year's right? Then the fireworks over the harbor started. An elitest view that was only shared by the Rich and Famous, their underlings, and fabulous leeches like me. The fireworks, from what I remember, were amazingly vivid. It was if you could reach out and touch them.


After the fireworks my phone started vibrating with notifications that my group was at the infamous Family bar, owned by my Hilton Host. I decided to depart. I was trying to go down to have the door man get me a taxi, but he told me that would be near impossible and that I should either walk or wait it out till later. I decided to go back up to the party but the elevator was locked, I was confused and drunk. I walked out into the street. I found a lone taxi that was unoccupied. I asked him politely if he was waiting on someone and he said he was. Then I asked him how much it would cost for me to get take his taxi to "k road" where Family was located. He said "no man, I'm waiting for someone." with an indian accent.
I said "40 dollars?"
He shook his head.
"Sixty?.....a hundred?"
He reluctantly starred at me and nodded his head yes. I said "Well how much then?"
He said sixty.
I rationalized this expense as realistic because it was literally impossible to get a cab at that time and I hadn't spent a single dollar all night, and wasn't planning on drinking any more that night. After all it was only forty-ish US dollars anyway.


We weaved through the drama that was the New Year's crowd down on the viaduct and arrived sometime later at the Family bar. When I arrived at the door I said to the door man "Hey I was just at Wayne's party at the Hilton mind if I skip the line." He looked at me as if I was some kind of fast talking scam artist. In response I said "Seriously man I was just at his private party at the Penthouse, can you take care of me?" (Scandalous name dropping manipulative drunken bitch~all fabulousness has disappeared).

Finally he wrapped my wrist with a pink bracelet no cover charge and shoved me into the party, which by the way sucked. It was wall to wall with... well the lyrics from David Guetta's song sexy bitch " I'm trying to find the words to describe this girl without being disrespectful.... " come to mind, with mostly bitch and a splash of sexy. 


Dominating the dance floor can make you friends, and on a night like New Years Eve it can also make some enemies. A lot of people were having fun with me and dancing their little asses off, but there always has to be one bad apple. This little 12 year old twinkie decided he was going to edge me off the dance floor so I booty bumped him off the stage. I'm glad I didn't hurt the little thing, but he was pissed. (Proof that fabulousness and grace had left me and the evil of alcohol had taken over.) I exited and met up with my friends. This seedy bar has two floor. I made my way to the subterranean level aka the basement that was filled with fog and perspiration and just general shadiness. The air was so thick down there it seemed to take my buzz, which at this point was at saturation, to the level of black out. It was no bueno. General sensory overload, nausea, & fatigue plagued me. I went out side to get some fresh air. 


Family bar is located on "K road" the shortened version of Karangahape Road. It's slightly shady and lined with bars and adult shops and intersects with the more respectable and famous Ponsoby Rd. This community is well off and most houses are in the NZD$1mm range. It's classy with beautiful cafes, boutique shopping, and very nice restaurants. Excuse me, I digress. I shared a bench outside of the Family bar and all types of people were out. It was a fun, mostly drunk crowd, and I was feeling somewhat fabulous again and very friendly. I went on to spanking cute people and kissing girls on the mouth, wishing everyone a Happy New Year!

After making another round through the bar I decided to go home, but not before stopping at a Kebab place and getting a snack with hot chili's. I hailed a cab and went home to pass out. 


The next day I went with some friends to Piah beach. Piah has black sand and is beautifully situated in gorgeous rock formations. This beach has a reputation for having extremely dangerous rip tides carrying weary swimmers away without chance of rescue. My Malaysian friend and I rode the waves and found it to be the most healing experience for our extreme hangovers. 


This year I have made no resolutions, only to continue to find my happiness in life and follow the guidelines when it comes to drinking. No blacking out, no puking, and maintaining my fabulousness under all circumstances. All rules that I violated on the very first day of the year. There are 364 days to go and I think I have a good chance at maintaining my contract with myself. Happy New Year! Here's to living a fabulous life filled with happiness, love, celebration, and all that your heart desires!

Gaggles of Gays on Uriti Beach New Zealand

gaggles plural of gag·gle (Noun)

1. A flock of geese.

2. A disorderly or noisy group of people.

My new brawny Malaysian friend and I were discussing our New Year's Eve plans and we discussed going to Urititi Beach, north of Auckland. Urititi is the premier gay party beach for the New Year's celebration in Northern New Zealand. Somehow along the way the plans were moved up to just after Christmas. I'm not sure why, nor do I really care. I have no schedule or obligations so after receiving a text saying he would be at my place in 15 min the morning of, I showered and rounded up my things for a spontaneous adventure. 


Joining us would be two new friends. One was a caucasian male kiwi, 19, and just full of teenage angst. The other, a sweet 19 year old thai girl that moved to New Zealand with her mother when she was 11. I was surprised at the ages, seeing that my friend is 27 and myself close to that. Alas, they were the perfect co-pilots in our adventure to the "gay beach". 

Holiday traffic is notoriously bad during Christmas week in New Zealand. Nearly everyone except the retail and the necessary service sectors have a good week off in celebration of Christmas. It's summer time here, and there's no better way to celebrate the birth of Christ and the New Year than at the beach. Our beach was 130 km, 1 hour 40 min from Auckland. It took us four hours to get there.

We started going stir crazy. We laughed, listened to music, and my malaysian kept wishing our fellow travelers "Merry Christmas!" as we crawled by. He even took to throwing chocolates into a car with kids in it. He's a riot extrovert that is a blast at any party.

We finally reached a small town called Wellsford, where we took a lunch break. I had a famous Jester Pies that are marketed as a "healthy alternative" to Mc Donald's or Fish and Chips. Really hilarious actually. It's a small meat pie, in my case moroccan lamb, with vegetables. Pies here are very popular. You see them at the gas stations. My pie was served with wedge fries and a sprite for NZD$9. You know what they say, when in rome....


After Wellsford traffic started moving along just fine. We made it to the beach. As we were rolling through the volcanic hills on the way the sun was warm in the car, but you could feel the cool breeze coming off the ocean. It was going to be chilly no doubt about that. Thoughts of avoiding the water started crossing my mind, but the extrovert of the group wouldn't allow that kind of attitude. With hesitation I changed into my suit and headed down to the Pacific for high tide. 

The wind was cool and the water was chilly. Waves started crashing over me. I quickly adjusted to the temperature. There is something reminiscent of salty sea water. It brings back memories of every visit to the ocean. I lived land locked most of my life, and as in this case, visiting the sea was always a monumental event. I love the Ocean, the power and force of its energy, the senses being overwhelmed by the sight of the horizon, the ears by the movement and crashing of the waves. My first ocean experience was deeply spiritual, and I can't help but sink back into that feeling each and every time I find myself at the shore. I remember the force of the waves and the undercurrent, it just swept my feet out from underneath me and I was pulled out with the waves. For a brief moment I lost my self in the vastness that is the ocean consciousness. My ego disappeared and my soul was lost, as if a drop of water back into its source. It was a moment in heaven and a cosmic reunion.


After we had our fill of wave jumping and crashing my new Thai Girlfriend and I sun bathed on the beach. The odd thing about sand is that it finds its way into places sand should never be, and until you get that good deep shower it just sticks. It's nerve racking and gives you the sense of what an extreme OCD must deal with every day. We changed out and everyone made fun of me for moisturizing and refreshing my hair care product, but that's what makes me fabulous, exfoliate, moisturize, love yourself :) All that teasing didn't make them apprehensive to borrow some of my fabulous products. 

Next we made way to our official landing pad, Urititi aka the gay beach. We made it to the gate and a chipper DOC (Department of Conservation) officer met us there. He gave us the run down. 
"Now the campsite is split into two areas, over to the right, that's the gay area..." he paused as if to check if he needed to really go on, in a humorous way. "And to the left that's where the straights and families camp." Then he went on to explain the set up, basic guidelines, and helpful information like where the toilets were. After he was finished with us, the conversation went immediately into whether or not he was gay. It's confusing even in the land of kiwis for men to be overly zealous and nice about anything gay without being suspected for being one themselves. 


The camping was $10 bucks a head. We paid our dues and then headed to the closest town to pick up the necessities; food and booze. We were the most poorly prepared campers I have ever seen. First off this was a spontaneous camping trip. I didn't even become aware of the plans until the morning of, not to mention that camping isn't really my forte. My fabulous gay idea of camping is a picknick or barbecue follow by sleeping on the couch or an air mattress at a friends house. Once I even ended up in the back of a conversion van. That's not to say I'm apposed to camping or don't have the masculinity, strength, or courage to do such a thing. It's just a rare event. 


Pair all of that with the fact I was with two 19 year olds and a metro malaysian from Australia. Go ahead and be stereotypical, in this case it is accurate. Just don't go and project that onto the entire gay community. Their campsites will prove you very wrong. They are excellant campers. They transformed that camp ground into a luxurious party place. Laserlights, disco balls, tents, seating, full bars, champagne you name it. They had it. They were decked out and ready to be in their settlement for the next five days. 


We on the other hand had a "four man" tent, and "two man tent" and a Mercedes a140 which is the German insult to the yugo. Our eager 19 year old kiwi went right into setting up the four man tent. The fact they call it a four man tent is a total joke. It will sleep four, technically. You all will know each other intimately by the end of the camp. If that is what you want that is all well and good, however, that wasn't our intention.

In lieu of setting up the two man tent we used its base as our picnic blanket. We had purchased a stuffed roasted chicken, havarti cheese, chips, crackers, spreads, buns, lettuce, cucumber, cashews, wine, beer, and only the critical sundries to execute our beach side picnic. We unfortunetly forgot any napkins or paper towels. That's the beauty of camping in the bush, it makes you painfully aware of the luxuries of everyday living when you fall short on follow through. 

We had a wonderful dinner. Just gnashing and chatting. Our 19 year kiwi friend was in his coming out stage. He had began the process of coming out to friends and some family, but was slowly taking off the veil between his secrecy and the reality of his sexuality. I certainly do not envy him. It is such a daunting transition to go through, and the point he was in the process was the most difficult. The process of coming out really never comes to an end, it just becomes easier and less frequent with time. 


I came out around the age of 15. I had moved to a new town. I decided before I passed through the doors of that school, that I wouldn't deny anything about my sexuality, and that I wouldn't try to behave in any certain way. My energy was already such a mess with the challenges I was facing with my family and the woes that come with transitioning into a new high school in a small town in Wisconsin. Everyone knew I was gay. They could tell by my mannerisms. I didn't deny it and I became a target for attack. This part of the coming out process wasn't much of struggle but the abuse that I suffered has had a lasting emotional and psychological impact.


The real challenge came long after high school. It was when I entered the professional financial industry working with clients. I was living in a conservative part of the country in a professional practice and I struggled with the concept of being openly gay and being successful in a sales role in a professional setting. I now know that I shouldn't have given a rip and just loved myself as I was and the clients I wanted would come, instead I just lived my fear and tip toed around my personal life. 


When I finally left the professional sales arena and bought the restaurant that is when I finally felt the safety and confidence to just be myself. The relationships with the customers, in my mind, wasn't intimate enough to care. Again I never went about carry a rainbow flag or getting petitions signed for gay rights, but I just let none of that bother me. 
Now when it comes up in conversation I usually just something funny and coy, like "Oh honey, I'm gay..." 


Our friend wasn't in any real contact with his father and still hadn't told his Mom. He said that he knew that she knew, but just hadn't talked about it. It was just something they were both avoiding, the day when the truth comes out, the tears get shed, and all the projected regrets or rejection get spilled all over like red paint on white carpet. This was his first gay outing and I could sense his anxiousness, excitement, and confusion for what to do or expect. 

One thing you can count on at any gay event is that if you are at all approachable or friendly you won't have any trouble making friends. We, the gay community, are in general very outgoing and social creatures. When we gather we have a lot of fun. I venture to guess more fun than most straight events. (I've been to both and I vote that this is a safe assumption) Even straight events are more fun when homos are involved. Our neighbors had an elaborate camp set up. They had a large ten person tent that was the anchor of their territory, and to each side of that were smaller but yet large tents. In the center of all this just set away from the road was the party canopy. 


These friendly neighbors made their way by and invited us over to party. That's where we spent the evening. We had an absolute blast. The air filled with laughter and great conversation. As the night lead on it became louder and louder. We violated two of the camp rules. No excessive alcohol consumption and No excessive noise. Seems to be a pattern here. Our dear Thai Girlfriend went to bed to find that our tent was leaking from the rain. She said she didn't want to be bothered with walking the 30 yards over to get help from us so she just dealt with it till one of us came to bed. Luckially all those tents were set up for friends that weren't arriving for a couple of days so we had a huge tent all for ourselves. Another small but fabulous miracle!





That's what I love and celebrate about being my fabulous self. Because I'm in harmony with the Universe, and know that everything always works out for me. I relax into the enjoyment and feeling good about life and as a result it comes true. 


Everything does always work out beautifully, solutions to my problems come many times before the I even become aware of the problem. That's not to say shitty things have never happened to me, but it is to say that the more I relax and appreciate the good things in life, the more miracles and solutions the universe brings. That's my definition of being fabulous, having it all provided by a friendly loving universe! (or whatever you want to call it)
And a little more about that....

A Christmas to Remember....

I awoke Christmas morning, which was actually Christmas Eve back home, in a ball, homesick, and refusing to start my day. I tossed and turned, trying to sleep, fighting the inevitable, I was alone on Christmas. Though it was really just like any other day which I usually would have no qualms about where my loved ones were and there direct relation to me, this was Christmas. A psychological challenge. Thoughts and fears of being the cat lady with no one and nothing raced through my mind. This is what I had come to.


I texted some of my friends via gmail, Facebooked an early Christmas greeting, and responses started coming in. My friends and loved ones reminded me that they were only as far as my mind would allow them to be. Here I was on the trip of a lifetime, a dream come true, and I was sulking about my loneliness because of a mind game I was playing with myself. I said to myself "Get your shit together!" And that's what I did.


I talked to some of my closest loved ones on Skype and chatted on Facebook. Then I started to make a list of all the things I was thankful for in my choosing of this experience, and being away for Christmas, and more importantly, winter. Yes I was alone. But at a very young age I was traveling around the world free of the freezing cold and snow. This was the greatest Christmas gift of all! I had made several friends in just a short week of arriving in Auckland. I was living in a wonderful place, and I had a Christmas party to attend just a couple hours away.


That's exactly what I did. I had picked out my outfit. A nice pair of slacks, a short sleeved black and white collared shirt, and nice black shoes. I was looking sharp. My flatmate asked me "Are you going to a flash Christmas party?"
I said "A what?"
"Flash, you know...(in heavy kiwi accent) dress up?" he asked.
"I don't know, but this is what I'm wearing." 


Come to find out I was overdressed. Regardless I wasn't too overdressed. My mentor once told me that you don't have to wear your best outfit everywhere you go, you just have to be the best dressed for the occasion that you are attending. Good advice, and that day I had followed it. Turned out to be a great move on my part, which I'll explain later.


My friend picked me up, an older retired "pomme" as the local calls them. A Brit. He had been one of my contacts here for the gay scene as I'm doing research on the subject. He had arrived in Auckland for the first time in 1981. First as a visitor. He returned many times, being in love with the island lifestyle and the wonderful people that New Zealand offers. For him it was familiar to a certain degree yet slower moving, and the weather was perfect. After he retired he moved here permanently. Well as permanently and a travel visa will allow you. He is allowed six months of time here and then leaves for a short period, usually to Australia. Only to return with a fresh travel visa and another six months to stay. It's a minor technicality. I asked him why he didn't fit the 'criteria', as he put it, for citizenship. He said "Oh not enough money and no skilled trade being that I'm retired. They want you to put a lump sum of money in their bank for seven years at zero interest, so I just take a holiday every six months and remain a citizen of the UK." Made enough sense to me and seems like a relatively inexpensive solution versus hiring an immigration attorney or losing all that opportunity cost of a no return CD with the bankers of New Zealand.


We first went to a "Christmas for Orphans" sponsored by one of the local gay organizations and was held at a park pavilion. We were the first to arrive, though technically we were late. Finally some people started showing up. I met two women that have the same name. They seemed very outgoing and friendly. The one was trying to figure out exactly where in the US I was from by my accent. She admitted that she originally was from the Philadelphia area. She claimed to have no kiwi accent at all. She had been in Auckland for 8 years, and she most certainly had an kiwi/philly accent. 


They were both transgendered. Male to female actually. It was surprising to me to learn this because I didn't suspect at first. I made the assumption that they were a lesbian couple, but then after a closer look I could see the hints of transition.  They were very friendly and demanded that I have a sandwich before I left the party. One of them had made a stuffed hen. Her stuffing was made with homemade sausage and homemade smoked bacon. This was a very handy transgendered lady. I can't tell you of ever hearing anyone smoking their own bacon. The homemade stuffing was delicious.


After saying our good byes we headed off to the house party. We arrived around 3:30pm. The kitchen was filled with Thais. Four thai ladies and four thai guys. Our hosts were a decently wealthy older white gentleman and his thai domestic partner. Everyone was very polite and introduced themselves. Then they took back to their partying and clamoring on in thai. On the counter was a whole fish, with its head and all, crab salad, papaya salad, dumplings, noodles, and other classic thai fair. It was Christmas Thai style. It came to light that these ladies worked for our host in his business and was close friends with his partner. 


Slowly more of the gay kiwi crowd started showing up. That's when I knew I had chosen the right outfit. Classism is every where you go. And in the land of kiwis it's no different. Especially in the gay world. As I mentioned in my last blog it is very common to see older white men with younger attractive asian men. I was not there to be put on the lower class of trophy wife, but to be acknowledged as and equal to these men. I had succeeded in business, educated, and have my own money. If I was going to be seen as an equal I had to be the best dressed. And I was. 


The Thai Christmas was getting wrapped up. Food away, and dishes done, and the Thais saying their goodbyes. The wine was flowing and the laughs were rolling. I started to feel a little drunk. Sure enough I should have eaten something but hadn't made the time for it. The thai food, usually my favorite, didn't strike my fancy. Then there was a Christmas day miracle, I found a hidden zip lock container of dumplings hiding on the table behind some discarded wrapping paper. They were delicious and exactly what I wanted. I broke them out and a guest arrived with a tapas platter.Then we started gnashing. The dumplings disappeared with a flash. Ah, but I was content. 


Slowly smells of a maple glazed ham was in the air. The potatoes were boiling. The wax, green, and lima beans were sautéing. Yes, it was a kiwi Christmas on the way.  Our host had donated the ham, which was beautiful, gigantic, and succulent, to a Christmas Raffle Fundraiser for one of the local gay organizations. Two years in a row he held the winning ticket. He donated the ham and then won it back. I said the whole thing reeked of corruption on the highest levels and even joked that George W. must be involved. We all had a good laugh. That's what we did more than anything. More than drinking of the wine, more than eating of the food, laughter filled the air. Two instances I found myself so in stitches that tears were flowing down my face. Which only made everyone else laugh even harder. There's something to say about spending Christmas with a bunch of gay guys you don't even know from Adam. All I can say is they were the most hilarious blokes I had spent time with in a long time. And each joke or story would role into another, as if these guys had been playing tennis for years. Not in a competitive way either, more like some synchronized ballet of gay comedy. 


I overate...that ham was amazing. I overdrank...it was as if Jesus himself were there replenishing the wine. I had all the laughs I could take. I spent time one on one with many of the guys getting to know them, about their business, and sharing about my story. We outdrank the asians. They were on the couches sleeping off their food and wine coma. I had a coffee and was ready to get lateral myself. I made it home. I felt content with my Christmas. I hadn't unwrapped a single present. It was the first Christmas I didn't receive any gifts, which wasn't even the slightest bit strange to me. I had given myself the gift of a lifetime this year. No one could out do that, except perhaps Jesus himself.


Another Christmas Day miracle!


After I arrived home I did my ritualistic online stuff. Checking of the email and facebook. I saw that there was a message from a local gay hook up site. I checked it, and also on line was a native Maori. He was just my type. A professional contemporary dancer, and no that is not fancy talk for stripper, I made sure to ask. The best part he lived just a ten minuet walk away. Without hesitation I scooted on down there. His flatmates were away at their family's for holiday and we had the place to ourselves. We sat up and talked for hours and then we started making out. We slept the night away and awoke in each others arms. Yes it was a Christmas Night sleep over, yes we were complete strangers, but it really was the perfect ending to a very non-traditional Gay Christmas. I have nothing to regret and only everything to celebrate. 


My day started out anxious and depressing because this Christmas was going to be without the ones I know and the love the most. I picked up my boot straps and marched into Christmas with a good attitude. I bought the ticket and took the ride.  I had a blast with my new gay friends and ended my night with the sweetness and romance of a beautiful and endearing man. It was perfect in a strange, foreign, and gay way.


In memory of my friend David C. Zimmerman who passed away December 18th, 2010
"He was the only gay guy we knew that could come in swinging a purse and nobody would say a damn thing!"
You are missed David :)

Weekend at the "Bach"

In the area of Indiana where I am from all summer long when you ask someone what they have planned for the weekend there is a good chance they'll reply "Going to the lake." One of my friends that was new to Indiana asked me the that very question and my response was "Going to the lake."

She said "Oh my god Dustin, where is this lake that everyone is always going?"

I laughed and said "Oh, everyone here has a 'lake', there are a dozen or so within an hour from the city. We all have a lake house or a friend with a lake house, that's what we do in the summer. We go to the lake, bbq, drink, play games, boat, jet ski, and practice the art of doing."

When I was younger we would go to the lake "cottage". A small undesirable structure that was one step above camping. Nowadays we have lake homes, which are many times fully functioning homes or even palatial estates.

This is the story of the "Bach", pronounced "Betch". definition in New Zealand; a small weekend or vacation house or shack is very similar to that of the lake cottage. Once considered a shack has now evolved to a home, and again, in some instances a palatial estate. Our bach was in between. Beautiful view of the Firth of Thames. My weekend there was a bit foggy and rainy, but wonderful none the less. Having come from gross winter, just being able to run around in shorts and jandals (japanese sandals as named by the kiwi's) was a real treat for me.

My host for my visit here invited me to join him with his friends for this weekend of relaxation. It was our host's childhood home. He and his family lived there until they all grew up. Now all of them live in Auckland City. They rent the bach out via the internet to people wanting to get away for the weekend. I'm not sure for how much, but I estimate somewhere between $200 to $300NZD a night. It sleeps eight comfortably, is walking distance to the beach, and driving distance to the Miranda Hot Springs. Miranda Hot Springs claims to be the largest hot springs in the Southern Hemisphere. www.mirandahotsprings.co.nz/

That's where we kicked off our weekend. Myself and 7 other gay men. The hot springs is 38 degrees c, which is about 100 degrees f. They also sport an Adults Only Sauna Hot Spring that is about 40 degree c, or 104 degrees f. Basically it's hot, however you measure it. We soaked and soaked until we just couldn't take it any more. Then we had a classic New Zealand BBQ. Which consisted of Sausages and Lamb Chops. From what I gathered the Sausages are quite popular on the BBQ. I could personally leave them out, but they seem to be a crowd pleaser. They lack any real taste, in my humble opinion, were the consistency of hot dogs with greater girth and less flavor. (Sounds like a date I had :)

That's not to complain about the food here by any means. New Zealand is a rich and diverse place when it comes to culture and food. They may not know sausage, but they do know Yoghurt, Bacon, Lamb, and Wine. These are the items you will see with great pride in their grocery stores. When it comes to restaurants all types of Asian cuisine are represented. You know that that makes me very happy.

They aren't afraid of hearty delicious yoghurt. Everyone must be eating it here in droves. It's available in all types of varieties, in large quantities, and at a very good price. I'm currently addicted to Mammoth Supply Co's thick yoghurt with Fruit, Seeds, Grains, and Barley. It is an anorexics dream. It is delicious, filling, and good for you. I can only eat half of the 325g serving in a sitting. Their marketing says that it is a man's yogurt made by men. Sounds delicious and gay enough for me! Now if only I could catch the anorexia and I would be truly happy.

For those of you that don't know me, Bacon is my favorite meat. Even if I were to become a vegetarian I would still eat bacon. It just gratifies me on all levels. That is if it's not overcooked. Crunchy bacon is a sin against God and Man. There is one occasion that I will overlook crunchy bacon and that is crumbled in my salad, but even then I curse the bacon killer for their grave ignorance and disrespect. Bacon is meaty, fatty, and deliciously flavorful. For all you fat fear mongers the truth is some fat, including animal fat, is very good for you. (It's the empty carbs and the sugar that are the real enemy, sorry for attacking your friends.) Here in New Zealand you won't find any over cooked or crunchy bacon. These kiwi's have a spiritual relationship with my favorite breakfast meat. It doesn't come in little fat laden strips either. It is large ovals of bacon that is mostly meat, and did I mention, properly cooked.

When I go on the hunt for lamb in my neck of the woods I often am delighted to find beautiful chops, ground lamb, racks, and legs all marked down because of it's lack of popularity. It is usually New Zealand lamb. I buy it all and horde it in my freezer. No luck with that hear on the island of New Zealand. Oh you'll find all the varieties I mentioned and many more, but at full price. Full price here is dramatically less than in the states seeing it's a local product. I'm in good company as a lamb lover in the land of kiwis.

For years I have prided myself with my expansive knowledge of wine. I made a good living in fine dining for years selling reserve wines to customers based on my hypnotic sales techniques and ability to communicate my passion for wine. My first visit to the wine department at the local supermarket here I felt like so many novice wine consumers; inundated. The majority of wines were from New Zealand and Australia. I did what any good consumer would do, I bought based on how attractive the label was and price. I have tried 9 varieties of wine so far and have been very pleased. My first wine was actually a kiwi fruit wine. I typically steer clear of fruit wines as they tend to be overly sweet and rich. This was not the case with kiwi wine. I liken it to a rich sauvignon blanc, which is really oxymoronic to write. Nevertheless the wine was very good. As have all the wines I have tried from the light Blancs to the rich Cab blends, I am a happy (slightly drunken) camper.

As I mentioned before New Zealand is rich with diversity and culture. As I began my adventure here I walked the famous Queen Street in City Center. I saw all types of people, except not one single black person. Today on my way back from a run I passed my first black person. He was wearing a fubu sweat outfit, how stereotypical, but it's the facts jack. On our weekend getaway it was even Asians 4, Whites 4. Thai, filipino, Malaysian, and me (Euro-White Asian Mix) and four kiwis that claim to come from scottish clans. Must be a homo gene in the scotts' pool, which explains why they like wearing skirts so much.

We soaked, BBQ'd, and played games. I had to travel all the way around the world to discover the difference between Ping Pong and Table Tennis. Besides a slight difference in the rules Ping Pong, aptly named, is when you bounce the ball on your side once of the table before returning it to your opponent. In table tennis you return the ball directly. I now know I like Ping Pong better. Then there were the darts, which was a relaxing all inclusive game. I kept refilling everyone's wine and they claimed that to be an American behavior. I quickly corrected them and told them that that was just the restauranteur in me. That I couldn't help because I was so accustomed to refilling wine, adding it to the bill and then adding the automatic gratuity! They seemed to like my explanation, maybe I should have been honest with them and told them I'm an alcoholic enabler :)

The next day we went muscle hunting in the ocean. Let me correct that statement. I walked down to the ocean with them with my  umbrella, and took a couple of photos. The actual hunting was done by our host for the weekend and a fellow guest. A brawny malaysian that captured the bulk of the bounty, 11 large muscles total. Then I was accosted by a true native kiwi. He was friendly at first. Asking me where I was from and complimenting me on my unique features. After telling him that I was from the US his tone changed dramatically. He actually got offensive with me accusing me of having an American attitude and kept mumbling some dramatic mantra he had memorized about what sons of bitches we American's are. I looked at him with confusion and he said "Yeah, that's right! You have a filthy American attitude, I have half a mind to correct that attitude right here".

Not really understanding where he was coming from or talking about I decided that I had had enough of the uneven rocky beach, spitting rain, and picture taking, and returned to the bach. I don't really think he had any real rationalization for his behavior, he reminded me of any other lunatic from the US or elsewhere.

Sunday night after getting back to the city I went out to a Gay meet and greet. A totally unorganized lot of men that had been meeting every Sunday for almost 20 years. They were mostly older white kiwi's and brits and their asian counter parts. This is becoming a theme as I become more exposed to the gay community here. White men with asian...boys...men, well asian males. We'll put it that way. There is no discretion about age is what I'm trying to infer here. This group was very friendly and wouldn't let me buy a drink. And they were very cordial about moving me through the group to meet everyone.

Kiwi's for the most part are very nice. It's a sincere niceness. They are welcoming and from what I hear especially nice to foreign visitors. Thus far that has been my experience. Since I have arrived here I have been invited to the Bach, Christmas, and New Years by complete strangers. Maybe it's my handsome good looks, or my charming personality, both are true but I believe it's because these are very welcoming and warm people.