Gisbos: It's A Lifestyle Choice

Gisbos, as you may or may not know, is a little known place on the Eastern most point of New Zealand.

Unlike its sister city Lesbos, there is no all night casino where it's liquor in the front and poker in the rear, but Gisbos more than makes up for its lack of nightlife by being somewhat off the beaten track and totally devoid of almost all of the types that find their way to that other over rated town, RotoAnus.

Gisbos, supposedly, is 90% Maori. I would estimate that two thirds of that number are heavily tattooed, which I admire as much as the next intimidated Caucasian. Normally when I go on holiday I feel six foot tall and bulletproof and often walk around like I own the place, which I think comes from the confidence you get when you're somewhere we no one else knows you or any better. Gisbos is not the kind of place to do that.

Funnily enough, seven days in and I'm yet to see an Asian. I did see a Middle Eastern man in a shop down the main street but he looked as bored as fuck and I'm not surprised; I can't imagine there would be much call for Persian rugs in Gisbos.

There is undoubtedly a large Maori contingent up here and a lot of them are heavily overweight which surprises me given the proximity Gisbos has to so many natural resources. It has a beautiful harbour with plenty of fresh fish on one side and fields of fresh produce on the others. Hardly the stuff of a poor diet. Perhaps money is a problem? Quite possibly, but I've seen a lot of said fatty fatty boom booms getting in and out of flasher motors than mine so I doubt it.

Speaking of motors, the passion wagon didn't make this trip. Despite being made from the finest Korean steel, hill climbing is not its forte, so unfortunately we've had to make do with the mother-in-laws big fuck off shiny Audi. So what with us car training everywhere with the father-in-law's aircraft carrier of a Mercedes we're not only the whitest family in town, we are almost the most eye catching.

Now I'm not one to extol the virtues of the fannying about in the ultimate examples of status anxiety, but you could - just a little mind you - get use to feeling like you're part of a presidential motorcade every time you go anywhere in cars like these.

Unfortunately the drive to Gisbos is quite possibly, one of the most boring around. Everything up to Napier is terribly interesting, but once you leave the 'Bay there ain't nothing to see but hills and the arse end of the trucks in front of you that struggle to make their way up each and every one of the rolling hills that make up most of the two hour trip.

Whereas New Plymouth has a mountain to look at and Taupo has a lake, Gisbos has nothing. Except public service announcement signs that read 'Keep Our Lakes & Rivers Clean', 'Keep Out Aquatic Pests', 'Save Our Forests' and 'Women, Trim Your Beavers'. That last one might have been a figment of my imagination; it was a long drive after all.

Gisbos is the kind of place where you can park up at Video Ezy, leave the window down and the keys in the ignition and expect to find your car still there when you return. Something I wasn't keen to try with the Audi mind you. Other innovations in personal safety include turning up the home stereo so loud that the townies from out of town staying across the road in the 8 hectare block could swear that it was right outside their window, then going out for a bit. Nothing puts off a burglar more than some slow summer jams pumping out of the Aiwa. Pisses the neighbours right off too but hey who cares when you're not home to answer the door when they come a knockin aye?!

Still, despite its flaws, Gisbos is quite the lovely place. I was suitably impressed to see a large contingent of locals down at the recycling plant emptying their overflowing recycling bins four days out before the actual roadside collection takes place. Which probably says a lot about just how much piss gets drunk round here but also speaks volumes of just how conscientious some are in maintaining the idyllic feel Gisbos has.

Incidentally, Gisbos is not actually the official name of this town but I think it has a catchy ring to it that in time, could catch on like Paki's (Pak'n'Save) and Maccas. It may be, as my wife was at pains to point out, actually devoid of a gay community (unlike Lesbos) and thus a misnomer, but I've seen a few fruity numbers around the place and I ain't talking about orchards. But that’s Gisbos for you; not just a destination but a lifestyle choice.

Unless you're a Captain Kirk selling Persian rugs.