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.

Travels of a Fabulous Gay Man: Beautiful Contrast

Travels of a Fabulous Gay Man: Beautiful Contrast: "In route to Chicago from Fort Wayne the weather was blowing snow and the roads were treacherous. You could see which counties were properly ..."

Beautiful Contrast

In route to Chicago from Fort Wayne the weather was blowing snow and the roads were treacherous. You could see which counties were properly funded and passionate about snow removal and those that weren't. I was nearly ran off the road by a ginormous semi truck. Sending me into panic and fear that I wouldn't escape my last winter alive!

Upon arriving in Chicago it was blustery and freezing. I spent the night before partying until 7:30 in the AM with my closest peeps, and awoke at 9:30AM to get ready and leave to Chicago. While in route between panic attacks and near death experiences I used helpful affirmations to stay cool and at peace with my wintry travels. The words "Beautiful Contrast" kept coming to mind. This would become the theme for the weekend in the windy city and my first day experience in Auckland, NZ.

I was being reunited with my husband and partner of four years. Our break up was over 6 months ago. Our relationship ended in a tumultuous drama of unhappiness that was thwarted with Anxiety, Depression, Stress, and low self-esteem on both of our parts. These were the core issues that stemmed from us both being overworked and overwhelmed with the conditions of our life. Him with his intensive masters degree program, me owning a time and energy vampire of restaurant.

Much has changed since 6 months ago. He has completed his degree and I have sold my restaurant. Our weekend was beautiful. We got along like the good friends we truly are, and had been. Somewhere in all that dysfunction and overwhelment we lost our friendship and appreciation for each other and ourselves.

To say that this weekend was like old times would be inaccurate. It was better. Better than before. We spoke honestly without fear, our hearts open, and with respect. We had little to no expectations of one another. He made a special effort to do little acts of love and kindness and I recognized them with apprectation and praise.

We had dinner at his restaurant and I had the honor to meet my BBQ hero Leann Whippen. Afterward we met up with his bff, she was a treat and the chemistry with her and his other friends was evident and celebrated. Love was abound and joy was overwhelming. A certain contrast to seven months ago when we separated.

I spent the next 22 hours traveling from the Blue Line in Logans Square, Chicago to Auckland International Airport. When I arrived in Auckland I could feel the humidity rolling down the tarmac. I was most certainly in the Pacific again. Winter was long gone and summer was making its welcome to me.

It is Christmas. But not Christmas in Indiana or Chicago for the matter. It is Christmas in the Summertime! People were wearing flip-flops and shorts. It is completely opposite my schema to have palm trees and summer wears along with Christmas lights, ornaments, wreaths, and all the other decorations associated with Christmas.  Beautiful Contrast Indeed!

Next I had to discover how I was going to make the 14 mile trek into the city from the airport. Public transportation is different here. Actually all transportation is different here. The buses don't necessarily run to a central point and you make changes in a central station. You take them to the city center and then walk to a certain stop and wait for a certain bus. Now once you are on the bus there is no announcement or map on the bus of possible stops that will be coming up. It's mind boggling to the tourist. While riding the blue line to O'hare each and every stop is announce, with the next stop, and which side the door would open. Even friendly reminders like being respectful while on your cell phone, as not to disturb other customers were announced. None of that here.

While determining how to get into Auckland City the thought of renting a car crossed my mind. That quickly came to a halt when I went outside to smoke a cigarette. My first after thirteen hours on New Zealand Air. I noticed an odd circumstance, vehicles were traveling on the wrong side of the road. The concept sounds simple. Just reverse everything you know about driving and do that! After having traveled on the streets of Auckland for even a day now I am grateful that I had the insight that renting a car wouldn't be a wise idea. Even as a passenger I'm still getting freaked out about it.

My host for the few weeks I'll be here works each week day until about 5. We agreed that I would come by the place around 6pm. Giving him time to return home. This meant that I had about ten and a half hours to occupy from landing to arriving at my new abode.

I navigated the bus downtown to the famous Queen Street. I had two suitcases and a back pack. Auckland is a hilly dormant volcano. Moving about with all that baggage was tiring and frustrating. Also I was in desperate need of a shower. I decided that I would get a hotel for my first day and unload my baggage and shower and then go walk around till the evening. In the Arrival Magazine that I had picked up was an advertisement for a room at the All Season's Hotel downtown for $65 a night, which is about $50USD. I thought this was well worth the few hours of respite from my luggage and a nice hot shower.  When I arrived at the All Season's those rooms were all sold out and the next level available was $150. My thought at this point is they probably only have one room for that rate, the janitor's closet, and that it was a bait and switch advertisement to get weary idiots like me to book a room any way!

I had two goals in mind while waiting for my host 1. to get a power adapater so I could plug in my US electronics into these New Zealand outlets and 2. to get a pre-paid cell phone so I could actually be in contact with my new friends here. After I walked up hill to find the shady hotel and was denied, I walked back down the hill and found an electronics store and did just that. Then I went to a very sweet outdoor coffee shop just off the harbor on Queen Street and soaked up a red bull and some very needed free wifi. I called my host and left my new number and started the waiting game.

A miracle!

My host texted me and told me he had taken the day off because of a bad headache. Which meant my waiting time was almost over. It felt like the seas had parted and that minus my uphill trek with two suitcases to a shadily advertised hotel had all been in perfect harmony with my desires.

Now I just had to navigate my way to St. Lukes. Which I did using a scientific calculator and going under a deep trance to channel St. Christopher, the patron saint of travelers. My host picked me up in his car at the bus stop. I found myself in a beautiful townhouse with my own private room with walk out patio, abundantly free wifi, a hot shower in my private bathroom, good conversation, and a delicious spaghetti and meatball dinner. After dinner we took a car tour of Auckland at night time and I got to see some amazing views of the city that only the locals know about.

My relationship was in shambles
This weekend my relationship was more beautiful than ever before
Where I came from was a wintery blizzard Christmas
Here it is a cool pacific summer
Public transportation in Chicago was spelled out with regular ongoing guidance
Here I had to use the davinci code and a dowsing rod to find my way
Driving on the opposite side of the road isn't as easy as it sounds, its quite strange to get accustomed

Oh the Beautiful Contrast! Because of the hard times I appreciate the good! Because of the Cold I appreciate the warm!

Let it snow, Let it snow, Let it snow....

My last week in Indiana is a blistery one. We've had several inches of snow over the last few days. At first I thought damn, I didn't miss the first snow fall. But as my departure grows closer I'm feeling a little more sentimental about the seasons first major snow fall. Now I'm thinking how cute, but I'm over it. It is exactly 7 days before I leave for Auckland, NZ. The high there today is 69 degrees...rainy. I'll take it!