New Zealand Vacation

Sunday, February 4:
Waihi Bush Folk Festival

We spent a chilly night in the camper. I drove Jenny to church, and had breakfast in town. For some reason this particular café was a tourists’ Mecca; at least 3 busses stopped there while I ate. Maybe it was the only restaurant in miles. As I sat on the verandah with my shoes off dining on my eggs and bad coffee, I caught a Swiss tourist taking pictures of my feet. I guess he thought I was part of the local color. The Japanese tourists in suits and ties remind me of photos of crowds at baseball games in '20's. Some of the Japanese really get into the spirit of their vacation. If they are going hiking, they are all decked out in brand new boots, lederhosen, and fancy outdoor gear, and, of course, cameras.

Back at the Festival, in daylight, I had a better chance to take in the site. It’s a working farm, and the Festival activities took place under a large canvas pavilion erected off the back porch. Hay bales provided seating. People stayed in tents erected in a meadow, and in a variety of interesting vehicles including some ‘40’s vintage panel vans, and a couple of home-made caravans constructed on truck chassis. Some of them were quite elaborate, with deluxe interiors and cut-glass windows. There was a rocky stream where kids constructed stone dams and spillways, and shot the resultant little rapids in inflatable boats. The kids also had a wonderful time in a particularly disgusting mud pond. The place was awash with the little brats, all running and shouting and making a happy ruckus. Sanitary facilities were handled by a rudimentary privy.

Workshops were sort of organized on the spot and a schedule posted on a chalk-board. I did a fingerstyle guitar workshop that was less than fully effective due to my lack of preparation and the widely varied experience level of the attendees. I did get a short concert set in the afternoon, which proved extraordinarily successful. The assembled multitudes wanted an encore, but the schedule was already about an hour behind. So they gave me another set in the evening concert as the closing act. When it came time for that set, they literally would not let me off the stage. The resounding consensus was “Keep playing and let’s cancel the dance after the concert.” Well, twist my arm! I got lots of CD sales, and kudos all around. It is not healthy for me to be received like this. My head is swollen enough without that sort of encouragement. The chairman of the Canterbury Festival a major event held in Christchurch in April was the emcee, and he said he would like to see me there. I told him that if he bought me a ticket, I’d be over in a heartbeat. I’m not holding my breath, though. Another late night jam session and an invitation to a 1:00 AM tea with Basil Fitzpatrick and Elizabeth Small ended that very satisfying day.