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'Baby' World Tour
The 'Baby' World Tour (Part
1)
Cumbria to Heathrow to Tokyo to New
Zealand
Mon Jan 1st 2007
Having finished breakfast after the New
Year's Eve gig at The Sun Hotel at Troutbeck Bridge (in the Lake District) my
car nearly runs out of petrol before returning to my parents' house in Arnside.
I say goodbye to my brother Steve, Helen and family. My parents take me down to
Heathrow travel lodge. I talk of bottling it on the way down. Why? Because I
hate flying. I soon snap myself out of this miserable mindset and resign myself
to a 12 hr flight from Heathrow to Tokyo . I sleep well in Heathrow Travel lodge
after watching Michael Palin's 'A Private Function'.
Tues Jan 2nd
The big day has arrived. We set off for
airport but get lost somewhere in the suburbs of the Heathrow district.
Subsequently my Dad and me have a big row in the car. Eventually we head in the
right direction. Then Dad takes the wrong slip road and we end up at the wrong
terminal. It's not my Dad's fault. The roads around Heathrow are a bloody
nightmare!
Eventually we get to terminal 3. Heathrow is heaving. I say
goodbye to Mum & Dad. I hate saying goodbye. It's gets me right in the guts.
At approx... 2pm we have lift off. London sprawls below, as the plane moves out
towards suburbs, green stuff, fields, woods, rivers, clouds and lots of sky.
Wed 3rd Jan
Day turns to night on the plane. The moon
reflects off the wing. Below is deepest Siberia. Its endless steppes and river
channels glisten in the moonlight. Finally (as i can never get to bloody sleep
on planes) night turns to sunrise, and stretching out to the east are
snow-capped mountains. The Virgin crew come round with breakfast. Mami, a lovely
Japanese girl with a winning smile who is lucky enough to be sitting next to me
shows me how to use chopsticks.
We eventually reach the wild and remote
Kamchatka Peninsula then cross over The Sea of Okhotsk to Japan. Japan 's
mountains are snow capped and look great in the morning sun.
A bumpy ride
follows as we descend into Tokyo 's Narita Airport . I am so relieved to get
down that i happily waltz through customs. Then it suddenly dawns on me. I have
left my bloody guitar on the plane!! I had wedged the 'Baby Taylor' behind a
seat and it had completely slipped my mind. Fortunately, the staff at the
airport are really helpful, even though at first they don't have a clue what I
am talking about. The Virgin flight crew also are very helpful and bring the
guitar through customs. What a clot!!
I get the train to the Asakusa district
of Tokyo. It is 1.5 hrs on the train. The Japanese seem very polite and friendly
judging by the smiling faces. The train works its way through fields that look a
tad dry) and into the outskirts of Tokyo. 3 storey buildings crammed closely
together. We cross a big river. Asakusa is heaving. People everywhere
celebrating the New Year. I lose my way to the hostel having lost the
instructions of how to get there (what else could I lose or forget). I walk
aimlessly through crowded streets.
I find the hostel more out of luck after
a helpful security chap (he seemed to be manning bicycles) points me in the
right direction. I show him the Japanese writing of 'hostel' from my rough guide
to Tokyo book. Then we are away. It's good to find a bed for the night. At one
stage I had thought I might have to return to the airport.
I share the 8 bed
dorm with Swedish students from Gothenburg studying Japanese.
After a kip on
the top bunk I wake early evening and take a walk around Asakusa's busy narrow
streets and markets. It's cold in the dry evening chill. Some people wear white
masks to cover their mouth and nose. People in good spirits though. As part of
the New Year celebrations they are heading for the Buddhist temple of Senso-Ji.
It seems to be a kind of pilgrimage.
I would love to stay here longer.
Thurs Jan 4th
It is a clear and bright early morning. The
streets are virtually empty. I pass a community of local tramps who have
obviously kipped rough for the night. They are all sat round talking, bottles at
their side. I walk to the temples. There seems to be a market going up. I watch
the odd person pray to the temple. It is very dignified and gets me thinking
about my own spirituality or perhaps lack of it. The people who pray to the
temple finish with a reverent bow. As the morning goes on so the crowds
increase. In the centre of the square there is a big pot full of incense candles
that have been lit. The smell is aromatic and slightly over-powering in the dry
cold air.
I leave Asakusa somewhat regretfully in the afternoon.
In the
evening (6.25pm) the Air New Zealand flight from Tokyo to Auckland takes off.
Only another 10 hours to New Zealand.
Tube
train running from Tokyo Asakusa to Narita Airport
Asakusa
district of Tokyo. The streets are packed as pilgrims head to Asakusa's Buddhist
temples.
A
backstreet in Asakusa, Tokyo. All is quiet in the early morning, a marked
contrast to the night before.
The
Buddhist temple of Senso-Ji together with the surrounding shrines and temples
radiate a feeling of real peace in the morning sunlight.
Burning
incense in a big pot. Asakusa, Tokyo.
Senso-Ji.
Japanese banner
Senso-Ji
Fri Jan 5th
Another bumpy ride! This time descending into
Auckland . I have a bit of banter with the passport officials when they ask me
what I do and I say I'm a musician playing a friend's wedding in Nelson. I
explain the Baby Taylor is a plug in guitar. "You do realize we haven't got
electricity down here yet", one of the customs chaps quips.
When waiting for
the domestic flight I get my guitar out to relieve the boredom.
A Japanese
lady with her young daughter and mother come and chat. They seem fascinated by
the guitar. I play "Hey Jude' and 'Norwegian Wood'. They seem to really
appreciate it.
The young daughter offers me Japanese sweets. They are
friendly people.
The flight from Auckland to Nelson is amazing. The propeller
plane flies over bright turquoise seas. Mount Taranaki rises steeply to the
east. We follow the west coast of the North Island, then over the Cook Straits
and Marlborough Sounds and descend into Nelson Bay. The sun is out. It's hot and
breezy.
The
plane that took me from Auckland just landed in sunny Nelson.
I meet Daiman (the Groom) at Nelson Airport. He is to be married tomorrow. He explains that he's a little worse for wear after his stag do. It's good to see him. Rebecca and Daiman have kindly put me up in a plush motel for the next 2 nights. I have a walk around Nelson, sink a couple of beers and then retire to bed. It still seems amazing that I am now in New Zealand Summer time when a few days ago I was in British winter.
Sat Jan 6th
On the day of the wedding I have a final run
through some songs I am to play. Wrap the present. Iron the shirt. Do all the
rest.
I bump into Daiman in the morning whilst walking through Nelson. I am
to be picked up at 1.30pm where we will head to the Church for the service. I am
picked up by Simon, Lynn and Juliette, a smashing family based in Christchurch .
Having worked for a New Zealand news channel Simon now teaches media, Lynn
drama, and Juliette has recently come back from LA where she had been promoting
a US singer/songwriter called Nathaniel Street-West.
We talk about the
pigeonhole mentality of record labels on the way.
The church is set off a
country road running by the side of a wide expansive valley with distant
mountains dominating the view at the valley's opposite side. The church is
basic, wooden, painted white, balanced on bricks, and very lovely. It was
apparently built in the 1850's having earlier been destroyed by fire. It has a
real peaceful quality to it owing to its simplicity and remote location.
The old
wooden church (built in the 1850's and balanced on bricks) Bec and Daiman got
married in.
The service is spot-on. Rebecca looks beautiful in her dress. The vicar gives
an excellent talk during the service on the joys and pitfalls of marriage. He
talks about, how as a vicar it is easy to fall into the trap of making the day
run smooth and somehow forgetting that marriage is much longer than a day. It
has to be worked at. He talks about how marriage has been slated in the press.
How it has been termed 'Rigid', 'Outdated', 'Dull'. He says that the real
meaning of marriage is liberating and loving and I agree with him. After the
wedding we head for the reception at Woolaston's winery, a short drive away
where i play in the garden area overlooking Nelson Bay. What a location.
Everyone seems to enjoy the music. Songs: Fall At Your Feet, Sweeter,
Everlasting, You've Got A Friend, Norwegian Wood etc....
The day goes
swimmingly. I am dropped off late back at the motel. Tomorrow I must head for a
hostel.
Bec
and Daiman with family and friends at Woolaston's Winery for the reception. The
winery overlooks the impressive wide sweep of Nelson Bay.
Sun Jan 7th
Today i feel knackered. After traipsing
around Nelson i get a lift off a chap called Chris, originally from Frome in
Somerset, who now runs a hostel called 'The Green Monkey'. I sleep a bit then go
for a walk and get fish and chips. Apparently there is a guy waving a gun around
at the other end of the long road leading into Nelson. We can see police lights
flashing. Who'd have thought it in sleepy Nelson. (Don't know what came of this
incident).
Mon Jan 8th
Head for Wellington, get a coach from Nelson
to Picton. The coach driver is a right live wire character. He can't keep still
and says "Yep" after every sentence, but he is a good guy and as I'm sitting at
the front of the coach, he tells me about some of the history and politics of
New Zealand. He says that New Zealand is a guinea pig country. By that he means
any new political system wishing to be tried out will be tried out in New
Zealand first. He refers to yesterday’s shooting in Wellington of 2 people (1
man of 26 killed) by a crazed gunman and suggests it's the problem of the
relaxed parole system. Another guinea pig idea perhaps.
We get to Picton. The
Marlborough Sounds are looking beautiful. Though windy the sea's not choppy due
to the fact that the wind is coming from the North (apparently).
I find a
hostel in Marlborough Crescent, Wellington. It's called Rosemere Backpackers.
It'll do for now.
Tuesday Jan 9th
Go busking for the first time in
Wellington .I start the morning in Cuba Street, the arty district of the city.
This is make or break time. I've got to get the money in otherwise I'll be
getting the early plane home. Fortunately it doesn't take long. The first guy to
put money in is a bearded gentleman who gives me the thumbs up. It's weird being
here after 6 years away.
I crack on mixing ad lib stuff with covers, with
some of my own stuff. The Baby is sounding good. WOW! A gentleman and his wife
from Sydney ask how much my albums are.
I don't know what to say. "Well, i
sell them for 5 pounds in the UK.” We settle on $15.
Already I wish I'd
brought more albums with me.
I end up selling 4 albums today. A young couple
from the Gold Coast in Queensland , and a young lad called Josh, from
Gloucestershire, studying Anthropology in Auckland . The other one was to a lady
who I didn't manage to chat to but was very keen in purchasing an
album.
Countless other people have thrown money in. I feel happy but tired. I
think it's the adrenalin thing of performing.
In the evening go for swim in
the harbour. A wee bit chilly!!
Baby Taylor with red tambourine, capo and harmonica, outside
Summerfields in Wellington.
