rob and rachel’s wedding (pt 1)
It's a bit of headfuck when 4 guys you went to college with in London suddenly step out into a hotel car par 11 years later in New Plymouth, New Zealand, all within 2 minutes of eachother.
I knew they would be there, however it was truly the weirdest 8 minutes of 2007 so far.
When Markie came to visit, I did double takes for ages. We would be in a shop browsing then I'd head towards a rack and this guy would follow me. Who the fuck is that all up in my space? Oh...its you. I was so used to seeing him in another context and on another continent that each time he came into view it was a complete surprise.
So after a long drive to NP, we check into the hotel and start unloading the car - out pops Neil Wardrop, Gary, Rob Hackett and Rich Horne.
Last time I saw Garry was at a club in East Village in New York when my band G-tone went on tour in 2001, the others maybe a few years before that.
There was however, little time to stop and chat. We were off to a Powhiri pronounced Po-fear-ee. A Maori welcome ceremony. After the hongi (the traditional "kiss" of touching noses), the men took there seats at the front and the women dutifully remained in the rear.
It was this simple respect for tradition that actually left me a bit adrift. I spend all my time with Tracey - at home, when we dine out, when we travel. Not sitting next to her but knowing she was in the room was a strange sensation - it passed though.
The Gundesen family (from the littl'uns to the old folks) sang songs, made speeches and we were warm and wecolming in every way.
Soon after, it was to business as the boys were split from the girls by our Maori hosts. The girls remained inside to learn Poi and sing while the boys were taught the magnificent All Blacks Haka.
Personally, I have always wanted to learn this ever since I saw a whole group of school children join a Maori cultural presentation in Waitangi. Every single one of them knew it by heart and I realised that in the future, if my kids ever wanted me to help teach them I'd be at a complete loss.
Now I know better. First we ran through the words and the pronounciations: "KA MATE, KA MATE, KA ORA, KA ORA!", we all chanted. It felt awesome! Even those who had only flown in from the UK that morning were totally up for it.
Then it was on the actions: the slapping of the thighs, the hauling of the nets, taking the sun from the sky. Once we had the actions,we went on to synching them with the words. I was good with the beginning and end, just a bit fuzzy in the middle.
We were given only 15 minutes to nail this, then we returned to the hall. The girls went first and did a fantastic job of the Poi and singing. Tracey looked so confident and cute like a little Maori princess (a description from a Maori friend. Tracey often gets mistaken for Maori due to her similar Maltese features).
Silence fell on the hall as the men took their places. Then Rob (the groom) let rip. "KA MATE, KA MATE", he belted. "KA ORA, KA ORA", the group responded. My first thought after our response was fuck me, we're loud, this is great! We chanted on:
Tēnei te tangata
pūhuruhuru
Nāna nei i tiki mai
whakawhiti te rā
'Ā upane, ka upane
Ā upane, ka upane
Whiti te rā,
hī!
On the hī! we all let our eyes roll back in our heads and stuck our tougues out, "bleeeugh". Everyone appplauded and the girls loved it. It felt very maculine - a "Fight Club" buzz affirming that we were once warriors, hunters, providers. It also proved to be a bit of an aphrosdisiac, they should definitely put the haka in the marriage manual. The testosterone hung in the air for ages afterwards and an inspection of my thighs revealed scarlett swellings and soon-to-be bruises on both.
After the performances it was on to the hangi - the feast. The men dug out the food from the pit. Chicken, Beef, Pork, Kumura, it was all there. The wine flowed and the wedding party left with full hearts and even fuller bellies.
An early night in preparation for the following big day.
I knew they would be there, however it was truly the weirdest 8 minutes of 2007 so far.
When Markie came to visit, I did double takes for ages. We would be in a shop browsing then I'd head towards a rack and this guy would follow me. Who the fuck is that all up in my space? Oh...its you. I was so used to seeing him in another context and on another continent that each time he came into view it was a complete surprise.
So after a long drive to NP, we check into the hotel and start unloading the car - out pops Neil Wardrop, Gary, Rob Hackett and Rich Horne.
Last time I saw Garry was at a club in East Village in New York when my band G-tone went on tour in 2001, the others maybe a few years before that.
There was however, little time to stop and chat. We were off to a Powhiri pronounced Po-fear-ee. A Maori welcome ceremony. After the hongi (the traditional "kiss" of touching noses), the men took there seats at the front and the women dutifully remained in the rear.
It was this simple respect for tradition that actually left me a bit adrift. I spend all my time with Tracey - at home, when we dine out, when we travel. Not sitting next to her but knowing she was in the room was a strange sensation - it passed though.
The Gundesen family (from the littl'uns to the old folks) sang songs, made speeches and we were warm and wecolming in every way.
Soon after, it was to business as the boys were split from the girls by our Maori hosts. The girls remained inside to learn Poi and sing while the boys were taught the magnificent All Blacks Haka.
Personally, I have always wanted to learn this ever since I saw a whole group of school children join a Maori cultural presentation in Waitangi. Every single one of them knew it by heart and I realised that in the future, if my kids ever wanted me to help teach them I'd be at a complete loss.
Now I know better. First we ran through the words and the pronounciations: "KA MATE, KA MATE, KA ORA, KA ORA!", we all chanted. It felt awesome! Even those who had only flown in from the UK that morning were totally up for it.
Then it was on the actions: the slapping of the thighs, the hauling of the nets, taking the sun from the sky. Once we had the actions,we went on to synching them with the words. I was good with the beginning and end, just a bit fuzzy in the middle.
We were given only 15 minutes to nail this, then we returned to the hall. The girls went first and did a fantastic job of the Poi and singing. Tracey looked so confident and cute like a little Maori princess (a description from a Maori friend. Tracey often gets mistaken for Maori due to her similar Maltese features).
Silence fell on the hall as the men took their places. Then Rob (the groom) let rip. "KA MATE, KA MATE", he belted. "KA ORA, KA ORA", the group responded. My first thought after our response was fuck me, we're loud, this is great! We chanted on:
Tēnei te tangata
pūhuruhuru
Nāna nei i tiki mai
whakawhiti te rā
'Ā upane, ka upane
Ā upane, ka upane
Whiti te rā,
hī!
On the hī! we all let our eyes roll back in our heads and stuck our tougues out, "bleeeugh". Everyone appplauded and the girls loved it. It felt very maculine - a "Fight Club" buzz affirming that we were once warriors, hunters, providers. It also proved to be a bit of an aphrosdisiac, they should definitely put the haka in the marriage manual. The testosterone hung in the air for ages afterwards and an inspection of my thighs revealed scarlett swellings and soon-to-be bruises on both.
After the performances it was on to the hangi - the feast. The men dug out the food from the pit. Chicken, Beef, Pork, Kumura, it was all there. The wine flowed and the wedding party left with full hearts and even fuller bellies.
An early night in preparation for the following big day.
posted by Phil at 3:56 pm
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