At work we were chatting about old TV shows that had “very special” episodes, like when some kid is being molested or using drugz (both of which are bad).
One person recalled the episode of “Blossom” where Blossom got her first period and was taken out to dinner by her family to celebrate this. This prompted me to immediately ask if Blossom had ordered tomato soup.
Why, I ought to finish writing about my Napier adventure.
On Friday noon I visited the Hawke’s Bay Museum. It’s in a grand old art deco building with additions from the ’50s and the ’70s. From the sound of things, they’re going to do some restoration which will probably include pretending the ’70s never happened.
There were a lot of good exhibits crammed into the little building. I liked the 20th Century Design in the Home exhibit, where I realised that the pink ghettoblaster I had when I was 13 is probably a design classic now.
On Saturday morning I was feeling kinda lazy and wandered around the bustling downtown area. I eventually ended up in the MIA shop, where I bought a T-shirt that cost more than my total T-shirt spending in 2005. But it’s, like, a totally awesome T-shirt.
Then I went to the National Aquarium of New Zealand. I was not previously aware that Aotearoa New Zealand had a national aquarium, but indeed it does. It has lots of fish in tanks, a walkway through a tank a la Kelly Tarlton’s, and a a kiwi enclosure, because, uh, the kiwi is actually a fish-bird.
After that I had lunch in a cafe that was so art deco’d out that I would have left in disgust had the food not been good and reasonably priced. While I was waiting for my latte, I made a shocking realisation. On the wall I saw a collection of Jack Vettriano prints. It’s that kind of sentimental 1920s-inspired art that fits right in with the art deco obsession that has gripped Napier. It’s a perfect match, tragically.
It was time to do some more walking, so I walked up the big hill thing again. As I did on Friday, my journey up the hill was via a really steep flight of steps building to the side of the cliff. This sort of thing makes me feel very weak and wobbly, but the view from the top was worth it.
I eventually made my way to the Bluff Hill lookout, and admired the sparkling blue waters of Hawke’s Bay. Then I found a path down and walked along the waterfront with the Port of Napier on one side and the steep sides of Bluff Hill on the other, which also made me feel weak and wobbly. O, nature.
I discovered the Centennial Gardens, complete with a fake waterfall, and the Old Napier Prison, now a backpackers hostel (and they do tours, but I was too late!).
It is, it seems, always bittersweet saying goodbye to Napier. I found myself again at the bus station wanting to leave but not wanting to leave.
The bus ride back (seven hours) was all right. I ended up sitting next to a surly teen who was furiously texting someone the whole journey. Across the aisle from me were some young bogan parents who’d had their first romantic weekend away from their kids, and Mr Bogan wanted the lovin’ to continue on the bus. OMG gross.
My iPod used up all its juice just north of Tokoroa, so instead of the guitar pop of The Cribs, I listened to the British backpacker girl chatting with her seatmate, a fellow from Whangamata. Their chitchat got more and more flirty, as it progressed from discussing their tertiary education to how firm his muscles were. When the bus got to Auckland, I saw them get off and noticed that they were both incredibly good looking, but sadly he had family who’d come to pick him up and she had a plane to catch, so fate cruelly pried their attractiveness apart. But he did give her a copy of his comic book, so who knows.
I took a million photos, so when I’ve sorted them out, I shall upload.
The more I think about the Napier earthquake, the more it seems like the result of a voodoo spell that someone conjured up in the 1930s. Let us examine the evidence.
There’s a relatively new town, but it’s been settled on a bit of swampy land by the sea. The town is running out of land to build on. There’s been a bit of land reclaimed from the sea, but that costs money and they can’t really afford to reclaim any more. The existing town streets were designed before the invention of the motor car, so now they’re a bit narrow and not ideal. Wouldn’t it be great if a) more land became available to be built upon, and b) if the downtown area could be rebuilt to fit the needs of a modern society?
So there’s an earthquake and the area is thrust two metres above sea level, making all the swampy, lagoony land and the entire inner harbour dryish, providing more than enough space for the town to grow into a city; and most of the downtown buildings fell down, meaning that the streets could be widened and the area rebuilt with cool, modern designs.
Surely someone’s great-grandpappy sold his soul to the Devil to arrange this.
Yesterday I wandered around and looked at all the art deco buildings in the downtown* area. I could have paid some money and join a guided tour, but having walked past and seen a few families groups and old people being guided by a senior citizen with a drive-thru mic, I knew I’d make the right decision.
Right decisions, wrong decisions, and the House That Cancer Built
The thing is, Napier has so many art deco buildings that after a while they all start to look the same, and it’s the non-art-deco buildings that stand out and look interesting. There’s one neo-classical behemoth that survived the earthquake, and a bunch of modernist and brutalist civic and government buildings hiding on the periphery. Buildings without zig-zags or sunburst motifs are the interesting ones.
There seems to be a whole art deco dress-up industry. A couple of times a year Napier had these events where people dress up in 1930s costumes, giving the impression that Napier in the 1930s was mainly populated by middle-aged people who wore ratty evening wear and kept saying “I’m a flapper” as they drank their trim milk cappuccinos.
Last night I ventured over to the The Warehouse across the road and found “Insignificance” on DVD for $10, which was a) surprising, because I didn’t know it was available on DVD, b) delightful, because it’s one of my favourite films, and c) choice, because it was only $10.
Oh yes, my hotel (motel) room has an obscenely huge spa bath. It takes about half an hour to fill with water and I feel like I’m actually doing a bad thing for the environment by using that much water. But the cool thing is I can fold back a screen and watch TV, or in my case, drag my laptop over and watch episodes of Snuff Box, which feels very decadent indeed.
This morning I set out to do another art deco tour, this time of the suburb of Marewa. It wasn’t until I got about halfway around that I realised that I don’t really like art deco residential buildings. It’s something about those flat roofs and little windows that creeps me out. So I abandoned the walk and made my way** around to The House That Cancer Built, aka the National Tobacco Company building.
I could tell I was in the right area (bleak, industrial) because it smelt like tobacco – Port Royal, to be precise. According to the brochure, it was sales of roll-your-own tobacco that kept the NTC in business during the Great Depression, ensuring they had the funds to build a lavish new art deco headquarters after the Napier earthquake. The ill health of my ancestors paid for their cheerful rose detailing.
After that I wandered in the general direction of the city and ended going up the big hill thing that’s in the middle of the city. An old man helpfully told me, “You’re supposed to be going down, not up.” Yes, cheers, pops.
Ok, I think I shall visit the museum now.
* Is downtown the right word? Is Napier big enough to have a downtown?
** If this sounds like a little meander, it was actually a massive walk of several kilometres.
I’m really excited because I’ve discovered that Gunt, Hawkes Bay’s premiere metal band, are playing tonight at Rack and Ruin.
They have 11 songs, one of which is called “Linching the Pop Star” – surely a sign that they ought organise a tour of the Hutt Valley asap.
It’s like my subconscious has come to life.