Baywatch!
New Year's Eve is very, very good in Gisborne.
The party starts about four days before NYE, when the campers for a big festival called Rhythm and Vines arrive (more on that later.) The camping itself has turned into a big festival, called the Baywatch Camping Festival. From the 28th through to the 30th, they have concerts with acts from New Zealand and Australia. Literally thousands of people come to the concerts, both locals and from all over New Zealand. I went the first night, which was fairly small. Only 9,000 tickets were sold. The campsite itself is estimated to hold over 10,000 people, and as many as 20,000 people come from out of town to ring in the new year. The town basically doubles in size.
The Baywatch concert stage is set up in a natural bowl near where I work, next door to the stadium/outdoor track. It is right across the road from the ocean, so gentle sea breezes offer a natural air conditioner in the crowded arena. At the top of the bowl, food and drink stalls set up, and the stage is at the bottom, like a natural amphitheater. This is excellent because even medium-tall people can get a good look at the stage. Truly short people are, as always, out of luck, unless they happen to meet tall Maori guys from Auckland. (More on that later too.)
Four bands played that night, two of which were completely forgettable. The concert started at 7.30, and I worked until 8, so I planned to meet some friends there. UM, this is the worst idea ever. How on earth do you find two people amongst 9,000, especially when the music is loud enough that no-one can hear their cell phones, and everyone is too drunk to be able to text and tell you where they are anyway?
So I went to my emergency backup plan: find a spot on the hill near the toilets, listen to the music, and wait for someone I know to need to pee. This is a much better idea than trying to text. W, a coworker, came up partway through the first band's set, and we spent a very nice, inebriated night together dancing in the crowd
The first band was a Kiwi group I very much like called the Black Seeds. They were, in a word, underwhelming. The guitar and bass just didn't jive. Behind them came an Aussie electro-pop group called the Potbelleez, and boy did they rock! They have one really big hit called "Don't Hold Back", but the rest of their music was well worth listening too. They were smart enough to keep the hit for their encore, and by the time the opening chords were played, the anticipation had built so much that everyone just went nuts. People were screaming and jumping up and down with the sort of joy one normally associates with world-wide sports finals. Even people who didn't know the words of the song were singing along. It was like some sort of magnificent group seizure.
Shortly thereafter, W had to leave. I was still feeling far too awake and jazzed up to go, however, so I wandered up to the front of the stage. The crowd was much more tightly packed down here, and I was having trouble seeing the dj. In front of me stood a literal giant: a big Maori guy from Auckland who stood approximate 6'7". Big. Guy.
A tiny blonde woman was swaying happily on his shoulders, squealing and bopping and making those rock and roll hand signals where you tuck in all fingers except your index finger and pinky. Eventually her flailing elbows connected one too many times with the guy's head, and he bent over, dropping her easily to the ground as if she was nothing more than a rather unwieldy hat.
"You want up?" he asked, turning to me. Without waiting for an answer, he popped me onto his shoulders and hoisted me in the air. At this point, I may have squeaked a little.
And then I was above the crowd, sticking out like a particularly tall cedar in the forest. Around me thousands of hands wriggled like sea anemones. Almost of their own volition, my own hands unglued themselves from my perch's bald head and started waving around. I became vaguely aware of giggling, and discovered it was me. My heartbeat felt like it had joined completely with the pulsing bass.
This, I thought, is the best New Year's ever.
So, if you're ever given the chance to dance in a crowd on a giant JAFA'a shoulders, you should totally go for it. Definitely worth experiencing at least once.
The party starts about four days before NYE, when the campers for a big festival called Rhythm and Vines arrive (more on that later.) The camping itself has turned into a big festival, called the Baywatch Camping Festival. From the 28th through to the 30th, they have concerts with acts from New Zealand and Australia. Literally thousands of people come to the concerts, both locals and from all over New Zealand. I went the first night, which was fairly small. Only 9,000 tickets were sold. The campsite itself is estimated to hold over 10,000 people, and as many as 20,000 people come from out of town to ring in the new year. The town basically doubles in size.
The Baywatch concert stage is set up in a natural bowl near where I work, next door to the stadium/outdoor track. It is right across the road from the ocean, so gentle sea breezes offer a natural air conditioner in the crowded arena. At the top of the bowl, food and drink stalls set up, and the stage is at the bottom, like a natural amphitheater. This is excellent because even medium-tall people can get a good look at the stage. Truly short people are, as always, out of luck, unless they happen to meet tall Maori guys from Auckland. (More on that later too.)
Four bands played that night, two of which were completely forgettable. The concert started at 7.30, and I worked until 8, so I planned to meet some friends there. UM, this is the worst idea ever. How on earth do you find two people amongst 9,000, especially when the music is loud enough that no-one can hear their cell phones, and everyone is too drunk to be able to text and tell you where they are anyway?
So I went to my emergency backup plan: find a spot on the hill near the toilets, listen to the music, and wait for someone I know to need to pee. This is a much better idea than trying to text. W, a coworker, came up partway through the first band's set, and we spent a very nice, inebriated night together dancing in the crowd
The first band was a Kiwi group I very much like called the Black Seeds. They were, in a word, underwhelming. The guitar and bass just didn't jive. Behind them came an Aussie electro-pop group called the Potbelleez, and boy did they rock! They have one really big hit called "Don't Hold Back", but the rest of their music was well worth listening too. They were smart enough to keep the hit for their encore, and by the time the opening chords were played, the anticipation had built so much that everyone just went nuts. People were screaming and jumping up and down with the sort of joy one normally associates with world-wide sports finals. Even people who didn't know the words of the song were singing along. It was like some sort of magnificent group seizure.
Shortly thereafter, W had to leave. I was still feeling far too awake and jazzed up to go, however, so I wandered up to the front of the stage. The crowd was much more tightly packed down here, and I was having trouble seeing the dj. In front of me stood a literal giant: a big Maori guy from Auckland who stood approximate 6'7". Big. Guy.
A tiny blonde woman was swaying happily on his shoulders, squealing and bopping and making those rock and roll hand signals where you tuck in all fingers except your index finger and pinky. Eventually her flailing elbows connected one too many times with the guy's head, and he bent over, dropping her easily to the ground as if she was nothing more than a rather unwieldy hat.
"You want up?" he asked, turning to me. Without waiting for an answer, he popped me onto his shoulders and hoisted me in the air. At this point, I may have squeaked a little.
And then I was above the crowd, sticking out like a particularly tall cedar in the forest. Around me thousands of hands wriggled like sea anemones. Almost of their own volition, my own hands unglued themselves from my perch's bald head and started waving around. I became vaguely aware of giggling, and discovered it was me. My heartbeat felt like it had joined completely with the pulsing bass.
This, I thought, is the best New Year's ever.
So, if you're ever given the chance to dance in a crowd on a giant JAFA'a shoulders, you should totally go for it. Definitely worth experiencing at least once.