Today, our adventures took us to Coyle Park, where we stumbled on the local gay pride festival: The Big Gay Out.
We live in Piedmont, Ground Zero for Atlanta’s festivities. The Pride Parade prances past our living room windows, and the outdoor market is in our very own backyard. So we were eager for the opportunity to compare the Kiwi version to the celebrations back home.
First things first: the entire affair is set in Coyle Park, an intimate, green, serene patch of open land right on the edge of the water. A little after one o’clock, we joined a host of locals streaming toward that space, and, while the crowd was perhaps a bit more light in the loafers than your average Sunday afternoon in the park crowd, we were both intrigued by how diverse the attendees really were: gays, straights, lesbians, geriatrics, young couples, teens, kids, toddlers. With one or two notable exceptions, you could have dropped this crew off at any art festival or farmer’s market, and no one would have been the wiser.
The event itself felt less like Atlanta’s hyper-commercialized day in the park and more like a friendly small town fair. At the entrance, we strolled past the classic auto show — a collection of fifteen or twenty lovingly-restored cars, polished like jewels and glittering in the afternoon sun. Beyond this, the path opened onto a broad green space where most of the crowd sprawled on the grass, watching two rainbow-hued drag queens give away tickets to upcoming concerts and interview Mr. Gay Canada and Mr. Gay New Zealand. (They weren’t a couple.)
Over the ridge past the playground, the food stalls and Tilt-a-Whirl ride reinforced the carnival atmosphere. We took our time picking out lunch. Wood-fired pizzas, perhaps, cooked in an oven in the back of a young man’s pickup truck? Spicy, bright orange noodles or curried chicken from the Malaysian booth? American-style hotdogs and thick, meaty “chips” (french fries, we’d say) doused with a dollop of mayo?
In the end, Clyde wound up at the Seafood Fritters booth, carrying away a steaming basket of golden-fried fish, scallops, and mussels. I saved myself, though, for the Banger Boys — one of the six best food trucks in Auckland, according to the locals. The slogan on their vehicle promises “You’ll feel better with a sausage inside you,” and, having downed one of their beef sausages with caramelized onions, tomato sauce, and mustard, I have to agree. My sausage on a bun was huge, spicy, and satisfying — and at $7.50 NZ, seemed to me a better value all around than Clyde’s $12 NZ seafood platter.
So: we weren’t hungry at the Big Gay Out … but we were, we confess, a bit puzzled by the mildness of it all. As our hosts noted, the website for the event seemed to promise a great deal of debauchery. (They worried, in fact, that the whole affair might be too “in your face” for two mild-mannered, domestic partners.) In fact, though, this afternoon in the park was so mild that it could have been enjoyed by people and kids of any age — and, in fact, it was.
What it lacked in oddities, though, it more than made up for in friendliness. My expectations for interaction with the crowds at these kinds of things are set by my experiences in Atlanta, where the crowd tends to be pretty, but chilly. Here, though, the famous Kiwi hospitality left us feeling more like locals than walk-ins. A woman from a local choir heard my voice, invited me to sing bass with her group, and kept up the friendly conversation long after she discovered the long commute involved would make my participation unlikely. A young man talked with us earnestly about the work his team has been doing to fight HIV infection in the area, getting a kick out of our accents and asking lots of questions about life in Atlanta. Even the folks at the food stalls seemed more relaxed and open than their American counterparts, bantering and pausing to chit-chat between frying, baking, or slathering their wares with mayonnaise.
So: all in all, a nice way to spend a summer’s day. From there, we hopped a $2 shuttle to Ponsonby, where we shopped in the little stores, hit the ATM, and gobbled down a generous serving of highly rated ice cream from Casa del Gelato. I’ve eaten a lot of gelato, and this joint had flavors I’ve never seen anywhere else. Mars Bar? Coca-Cola? (Special note to our friend J, back home: yes, they had Nutella. What sort of proper gelateria wouldn’t?)
A bus ride brought us back to the Eden Park B&B, where we chatted the rest of the afternoon away with friends Tony and Marlene over icy drinks. And then, of course, Marlene magically produced a stunning dinner out of thin air: chili mussels, spicy shrimp, and local cheeses for appetizers, a hearty serving of perfectly-cooked lamb with mint sauce, a caesar salad garnished with huge curls of local cheese, and a bowl of roasted broccoli, potatoes, peppers, tomatoes from Marlene’s backyard garden, and beets (Yes, I ate them. Yes, they were delicious.) tossed in nothing but a bit of salt.
Jude — a long time friend and neighbor — and her partner, Graham, joined us, telling tales of their trip to Africa (Botswana is now on my list!) and sharing a homemade tarte-a-tan: pears and gingered honey over a flaky crust, topped with (what else?) hokey-pokey ice cream (rich honey-flavored ice cream dotted with toffee chunks) and Marlene’s whipped-right-there-at-the-table whipped cream.
These Kiwis. They know how to live. And we’re really happy to be here, the lucky recipients of their warmth and hopsitality.
Today: after another of Marlene’s astounding breakfasts, we’re off on a foodie tour … and tonight, we’re treating Tony and Marlene to an evening at Clooney’s — a local restaurant Jude says will delight us all. (There’s a bit of mystery about the place, and Graham stopped her from “spoiling our fun” by shushing her when she started describing it. Intriguing!)
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