JOURNEY TO NEW ZEALAND CHAPTER 6
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"JOURNEY TO NEW ZEALAND" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.
JOURNEY TO
NEW ZEALAND
by Andrej Koymasky © 2018
written on January 14, 2003
Translated by the Author
English text kindly revised by Vin
CHAPTER 6 - A HAPPY NEW
I was in my office on the third floor of the faculty of foreign languages of the Todai, engrossed in the final draft of my latest publication on the haiku of the seventeenth century, when Henny knocked and opened the door.
"I'm disturbing you?" he asked leaning his head inside.
"No, no, come in. Take a seat. I will just save this file and take advantage of the interruption to relax a bit."
"How is your new book going?"
"Almost done. And I'm pretty happy."
"You already have a publisher?"
"Yes, the Japanese edition will be published by the Heibonsha, they already saw the drafts; the English one by the Columbia University Press. First I just have my English text revised by Collins and my Japanese text by Nakamura, then I can give to the publishers both versions."
"You are lucky as you are able to write directly in English and in Japanese. I on the contrary need to first write down the text in German, then find a translator. So you save a lot of time and money. But rather, do you have fresh news from Graeme?"
"Yes, we talked last night. He's fine, and even if he doesn't yet know you, he says hello."
"I'd like to meet him. Reciprocate the greetings from me."
"Perhaps you will meet him, he can possibly come in late June or early July for a few days."
"Oh, right in the tzuyu, the great rains season. It's a pity..." Henny noted.
"Yes, it's true, I told him, but he cannot come before or after... It means we will be more at home... making love." I said him with a pleased smile.
"You lucky fellows!"
"Well, I don't think you can complain, can you? It's all right with your wife Keiko, I think."
"Yes... I can't complain, it's true, even though she is a bit like too sedentary, for my taste."
"But she lets you go to the mountain whenever you want..."
"Yes, but she doesn't come, and I'd rather to go with her. Apart from that, and aside from that I'd like to have our first child, and that she, at least for now, doesn't want, it is true, everything is fine."
"You both are still young, you will have all the time to make children."
"But both for the parents and the children, in my opinion would be better having them when we are still young..."
We chatted for a while, then he said goodbye and returned to his studio, which was almost opposite to mine, to prepare his German lesson.
I plunged again to refine the text of my publication.
Then the phone rang on my desk. The voice of the switchboard girl said, "Bakkerri Sensei? One Gra'emu Lin-san from New Jirando (how Japanese people mangles the foreign names!) is on line for you..."
"Ah, good, put me on line, Sakamura-san. Thank you." I said at once feeling glad for that agreeable interruption.
"Hallo? Sergio?" the beautiful voice of Graeme said in the receiver.
"Hi, love! How are you?"
"Fine, and you?"
"Like a god, when I hear you!"
"Listen, I have a fantastic news for you!"
"Tell me..."
"The Academic Council here in our faculty decided to open an Italian course and in the coming days they will hold a public competition to choose the teacher..."
"Wow! Really?" I asked feeling excited. "Now that's great news..."
"Yes, right? Start at once to prepare all your publications and documents, and as soon as I get the announcement of competition I will send it to you."
"Let's hope for the best... but who knows how many competitors there will be..."
"But you have a wonderful curriculum, I am sure you will have a good chance..." he said, his voice bright and cheerful.
"It depends on how many competitors there are and who they are... and by the commission who will judge us... If amongst the competitors there is someone with good support... You know how these things go, don't you? However, I will definitely try, and who knows that..."
"One of the members is surely professor Thomas Gidlow... the dean of the faculty of foreign languages ... and he too is gay, therefore it is possible he will support you, isn't it?"
"But what should I write in my references - professor Sergio Bacchelli, patented faggot?" I asked with a chuckle.
"No, but... He knows I'm gay, and that you are my lover. We talked a few day ago and at that time he told me to inform you and tell you to take part, so... You know, since Gidlow is gay, he can possibly give us some solidarity..."
"I do not think it matters much if they are serious. Should count the value of the teacher, not his sexual orientation."
"Sure, it's true. But maybe, given the same value with another competitor, he could tip the balance on your side, who knows... Anyway it cannot harm you, since it is he who informed me, no? He is an old man very distinct and even fun."
"Old? How old is he?"
"Nearly seventy-five, and is about to retire."
"Did he tell you he's gay?"
"Not quite so explicitly, but he made me understand. He never married... and we've never seen him in company with an exponent of the fairer sex, if not for work ... So, are you happy?"
"Of course I am glad, but let not deceive ourselves, my love, to avoid being disappointed afterwards..."
Yes, it was really a good news, though not certain, a good possibility. I felt more excited than I let show through when I spoke with Graeme. First I went to Henny's studio to tell him the news, and he, almost using the same words of Graeme, said that in his view I had a strong chance of being chosen, given my enviable curriculum.
"Including the one you are working on, how many publications do you have, Sergio?" Henny asked me.
"Seven books and fifteen articles in specialised journals."
"Very good. And write also about the conferences you did and the congresses you participated as a lector or as a coordinator. At times they take in account also that." Henny advised me, then added, "And I will cross my fingers for you, even if I will regret seeing you go..."
Feverish days began. After less than two weeks, Graeme sent me the announcement of the competition. I finished preparing all the necessary and finally sent everything to the Canterbury University in Christchurch, including a presentation letter from the dean of the faculty of foreign languages and the rector of the Tokyo University, as requested in the announcement. Both did very flattering letters, better than I could have hoped for.
Graeme rang me telling that my package had arrived. And the wait began. The end of June came and I went to Haneda airport to take my Graeme. Despite the grey weather and heavy rains, we were both happy as in a radiant Summer full of sunshine.
I made him meet Henny, who then told me that Graeme was even better than how I painted him. I took Graeme to visit the most interesting sights of Tokyo and of the surroundings, took him to eat the best Japanese cuisine, but above all we made love, without caring of the rain drumming against the windows of the veranda. Making love on a futon, the thin mattress put directly on the tatami floor, gives a sense of freedom and space, it is good for every evolution, for there is no fear of falling out of bed.
I don't mean that Graeme and I tried all the acrobatic variants described in the Kama Sutra, but...
Graeme told me one day that, when we got our home, he wanted the bedroom was done just so, in the Japanese style, with tatami mats and futon. I adhered at once to the proposal, as I too liked very much the Japanese way to sleep, as well as the Japanese style bathroom.
Our home... these two words filled my heart with joy. Yes, in one way or another, we would a day have "our home", I could feel it, I knew it... and I was longing forward to that day to come.
When I had to accompany him to Haneda airport to return in Christchurch, we said farewell, our hearts full of hope... and with the promise that, however, in August I'd go back to New Zealand, to him.
The end of July came, and I received a registered letter from the Canterbury University in Christchurch.
"Distinguished Professor Sergio Bacchelli,
"The Committee responsible for examining documents sent to us for the competition to a chair for the teaching of Italian language and literature, which will soon be put in place at our Faculty of foreign Languages, has chosen you and two other candidates for final selection. To this end, we invite you to come in person here in Christchurch during the period between the first and the fifth of September this year, for a personal interview in order to allow us to make the final choice.
"With our best compliments..."
I called immediately Graeme, who had just learned the result of the first selection and who in turn was going to call me.
"Yes, and the other two are professor Enrico Thurman, an American son of an Italian mother who at present teaches at Chicago University, and the other is professor Merryl Shaw, a New Zealander who is lecturer at the Auckland University, and got a degree in Italy, at La Sapienza University of Rome." Graeme, excited and evidently well informed, told me. "I think you're the one with a greater chance, as you are Italian one hundred per cent, and you have more publications and more experience than the other two... Shaw is still young, and that Thurman, for what I got to know, has few publications..."
"It is to be seen what support they can enjoy, especially that professor Shaw..." I pointed out, prudently. "You know that in the academic world a solid push can have more value than ten good publications, don't you?"
"But you know how to fascinate people..."
"First, you say so because you are in love with me. Second, those two might have even more appeal than me..."
"First," he said jokingly doing an imitation of my voice, "it is not just me who thinks you are fascinating, but also all my friends who met you. And second, you tend to always underestimate yourself. Yes, yes, I agree, we should not sell the bear's skin before killing him, as you use to say, but see that bear already fallen into the trap, resigned to losing his fur!"
Well, the first days of September I went again to New Zealand along with Graeme, who had come back to Japan in August to spend his vacations with me. I went immediately to the faculty and they fixed me the interview for the third. In addition to the Committee there would also be the Consul of Italy as a consultant for the fluency of speech and the correctness of accent.
I also met, in the corridors of the University, my two "opponents". Thurman spoke a good Italian, I must admit; Shaw less, he still had a strong English accent. Shaw was a very pleasant, self-assured and likeable person; Thurman instead had something rather nasty... no, maybe he was just cocky and this make him obnoxious... But sympathy and antipathy are very personal evaluations and perhaps my impression was marred by the fact that they competed against me for the same teaching position.
The interview with the committee and with the Consul came in a rather informal way, very different from what, years earlier, I had with a similar committee at the Tokyo University. I felt completely relaxed and calm. For the first time I met also the Faculty dean, an extremely pleasant person, as Graeme anticipated me, who at once put me at ease.
The interview lasted some three hours, that anyway passed without I was aware of it. They asked me a lot of questions about my resume, my field of specialization, compared literature, and especially about my teching. I answered calmly, exhaustively, at time also passionately expressing my opinions.
At some point one of the members of the Committee asked me, "Do you prefer better, professor, teaching or doing research?"
"Well, it is not easy for me to express a preference, as I believe that only a good basic research can allow to give a good teaching, and at the same time, only a good teaching can give the means to verify the validity of a research..."
The dean nodded, and asked, "What do you like more in research, and what in teaching, Professor Bacchelli?"
"In the research... it is the fulfilment of my curiosity, of my desire to know, to understand, and to... grow, in some way to expand my horizons; the joy of a discovery, of an insight that perhaps proves to be correct. Or, if it proves wrong, to be able to correct what I believed, what I guessed. A true researcher, in my opinion, should approach the research with great humility... Regarding teaching, to me it is useless having knowledge without sharing it with the others, and especially with young people preparing to face their adult life. It is a pleasure to accompany and support them in their cultural, mental and political growth. With political I don't mean in the sense of belonging to a political party, but in its etymological meaning of being active and responsible in the 'polis', in civil society. The motto of the Dominican fathers, that since long I made mine, is 'contemplata aliis tradere' that is to give, to translate for the others what we have contemplated, what we got to know."
When they finally let me go, Graeme was in the hallway waiting for me.
"Good Lord, you were no more coming out of there! Three hours! They grilled you properly!" he said.
"Three hours? I wasn't aware. It was a really pleasant conversation, more than a test..."
"Ah, then I think you fascinated them!"
"We'll see..."
At that moment came out the Consul, who came over to me to shake hands, "Congratulations, professor Bacchelli, I am pleased to have met you. I cannot say anything official, and anyway it is not up to me, but... at least I can tell you that you were really brilliant! I would like to be able to assist, commitments and time allowing me, to some of your lessons, if you put in them so much a contagious enthusiasm..."
When the Consul was gone, Graeme whispered, "Do you see? I knew it..."
Well, to make short a long story, the Committee chose me and gave me the chair. Graeme was simply bursting with joy. Of course I too was so, I was more than happy.
"Now I must return to Japan to arrange my things, then to move here. I was asked to come as soon as possible, in order to get acquainted with the university, the local methods for the organizational and didactic part, to be able to start my courses as soon as possible... possibly already in October."
"Our last separation..." Graeme sighed, but sadness was no more present in his words.
So I returned to Tokyo, where I terminate the contracts of the apartment, phone, light, water and gas; I presented my resignation to the Today, and decided what to take with me in New Zealand and what to give away. Although I tried to take with me as little as possible, at the end I had about two cubic metres of stuff, half of which were books... I contacted a shipping company and sent everything to Graeme, as we had agreed.
Before leaving Christchurch I told him to start looking for an apartment for us, but he said he preferred to look for it with me. I told him that he could start to look around anyway, so that when I was there again, we could decide together.
I managed, miraculously, to do everything in a single week, even to get the work visa from the Embassy, even though I had to run all day and undergo a really stressful pace; anyway by mid-September I was already back in New Zealand.
I settled into the small room of my Graeme and had some rest (after having made love, of course) until the next morning. I then went to the University with Graeme and introduced myself to the dean. I was immediately assigned a studio, and given the teacher's card that gave me free access to all the campus's services - from the libraries to the mess, from the reproduction and printing services, to the linguistic laboratory, the computers room and so on. I was introduced to my colleagues and, finally, I started my first day at work.
In the following days, as soon as Graeme ended his work time, we went out together, with his car, to see the apartments that Graeme had found. We were not able to make a choice. Either they were too far from the campus, or too expensive, or too small, or too big... in fact, none of them struck our fancy enough to say, "here, this is the right one".
On October tenth began my course. There were forty-seven boys and girls who took my courses and a dozen of "auditors". Except for three of them, as I had imagined none even knew a word of Italian, except for "pizza, mafia, ciao, lazagna, spagheti, macaroni, espresso coffee" and other amenities like that. So I started just from these words, first correcting the spelling and pronunciation, then building simple sentences with those terms.
"Mi piace la pizza" I like pizza, "no, io non sono uno della mafia" no, I don't belong to mafia, "Ciao, io mi chiamo Sergio, e tu?" hi, my name is Sergio, what's your name?, "Le lasagne sono molto buone" lasagne are really good, "gli spaghetti devono essere al dente" spaghetti must be cooked slightly hard, "I maccheroni sono buoni con il ragù" maccheroni are tasty with meat-and-tomato sauce, "il caffè espresso deve essere forte, caldo e dolce, come un vero uomo" espresso coffee has to be strong, hot and sweet, like a real man...
The students were having fun and taking notes, participating with interest.
As Graeme and I were free from our work, we used to turn to see more apartments, then we dined somewhere, and went back to Graeme's room where, involving also him, I prepared the lesson for the next day. And finally we went to bed and made love.
In the second half of October we found a small apartment, which, while not the ideal, was the best we had seen. Therefore we asked the owner to consider our request to rent it... He told us he would give us an answer within a couple of weeks, after reviewing other requests.
On November 2nd we received an invitation from Dean Thomas Gidlow for "a cup of tea at my home". The fact that we had invited both pleased me. We showed at his home, bringing him a bottle of the best Italian wine. He invited us to make us comfortable, then asked me how I was in New Zealand and in the Canterbury University, if I was happy with my students...
We chatted pleasantly of this and that in an atmosphere somewhere between way between formal and relaxed... Then Professor Gidlow stood up and invited us to visit his house. It was a one storey building, not far from campus, surrounded on three sides by a tiny but well-kept garden, a little wider on the rear of the house.
There was the wide living room where he had received us, a not too small entrance room, a fairly large kitchen, a beautiful studio with two bay windows, two bedrooms, a garage, two bathrooms and several very useful built in closets.
After the "tour", the elderly professor took us again in the living room and asked us, "So, do you like my little house?"
"It is really delightful." I sincerely answered - apart from furniture that was not in my taste, the apartment was well laid out and built with quality materials.
"Did you already found an apartment?" the professor asked.
"Perhaps, although we are not sure that the owner chooses us..."
"Yes, I understand; some people still has a rather... antiquated mentality. They prefer a little family or a couple of newly married. Yes. Well, do see, I now know our Lynn for some months, and you, professor Bacchelli since a few days, but you made on me a very good impression at once... And, with January first of next year, I will retire. I intend to withdraw in my native village, on the north, where the climate is milder, in Waikato, where there is still the house where I was born and I inherited from my parents... So I will leave this house... what would you say if I suggested you to rent it?"
Graeme and I looked at each other - it was clear that we both would have liked that. Before we could answer, Professor Gidlow said, "You have not to answer me right away, you can thing about it... but the idea that it is you two to live here, would really please me..."
"I thank you, sir," I then said, "we too would be really pleased to live in here too... it depends on what you ask for the rent, though. I don't know if we can afford a house, we were more oriented toward an apartment..."
Gidlow smiled, scribbled something on a piece of paper then slid it on the glass tabletop to us, "Weekly fee, of course." he said looking at us.
We read the figure and looked surprised at the professor, and Graeme said, "Are you... certain? We were asked this figure for a much smaller apartment and no garage... and not so close to the University..."
"Yes, I am certain. If it is ok with you, for me is fine."
"But... why so little?" Graeme asked again, more and more surprised. "This house is worth at least twice this price."
"I know, I know. But I don't need money... and I like you two... and here you would have your privacy, a room to yourselves and also one for guests... Ah, I will take away all my furniture, of course, you should furnish it... to your taste. You see, the thing is that... I am very fond of this little house."
And he told us, opening up totally with us.
He had bought it with his lover, a fellow student, named Morton Spender who, like him, had became lecturer at the Canterbury University. They bought it when they celebrated their fifth year of common life. Then in 1986, after about fifty years of life together, Morton had fallen ill with Aids... and soon, alas, was dead.
"No, not for of sexual contacts with others, we were faithful to each other... a blood transfusion after an accident in which he lost much blood. At that time there weren't all the precautions that we have today... After him I have had no more lovers, no history of sex... because... because our love was... is too strong, despite this long separation. Yes, it was splendid, my Morton... So, when I got to know about you two, even before having the pleasure to meet you, Professor Bacchelli, I immediately felt an instinctive liking for you two, for your love. I made sure to learn more about our good Graeme, and then I was very impressed by you, professor, your beautiful personality... and despite your discretion I have seen... or rather felt, the beauty of your love... therefore... I don't want strangers in here, I would therefore be really happy if you would live here. If you like, if you accept my offer, made from my heart..."
We accepted, not only for the low price, but also on the ground and the words with which he offered it to us. He asked us to be patient until January, then, at our request, he told us about his love story with Morton. At the end both Graeme and I were deeply moved.
Then I asked him, "This is why you advocated my hiring?"
"No, I didn't need to, Professor Bacchelli. You deserved it without any need of my support. You have really shown to be the best candidate, believe me. Well, let's shake hands, the deal is concluded as I hoped. And I have to thank you, because at least this, who has been the love nest for Morton and myself, will be your love nest too, a beautiful and healthy couple of men... as we were my Morton and I. May God bless you, my friends."
We returned to Graeme's small room, happy for the unexpected and beautiful outcome of our search for an accommodation. It was not at all a burden having to live a couple more months in that small room.
The spring was rapidly reaching its climax, full of soft colours that seemed to emphasize the flowering of our love. On the one hand it still made me a certain effect thinking that, waiting for Christmas we were also waiting, in this part of the world, the arrival of Summer... On the other hand I reflected that it was good that the new year would coincide with the beginning of summer and our common life in the beautiful little house.
I took Graeme in my arms, drew him to me and kissed him with tender passion.
"Do you know that I love you very much?"
"Yes, I know, Sergio, but I am pleased to hear it again. Never forget to tell me, besides making me feel it..." he said hugging me and making me feel how strong was his excitation and his desire.
I began to open his clothes, to slowly undress him, to reveal the beautiful shapes of his fresh and young body that I was longing to make once again mine. My hands ran down on his bare skin, and my lover started to heave slightly in the intensity of the pleasure I was awakening in him and that, consequently, was increasing also in me.
I was acutely aware of how much pleasure one can get giving it, even more that looking only for his own pleasure. Really love, the true love, makes one unselfish, makes one able to give, and to give oneself. In a really loving couple, both have as only goal the pleasure, the wellbeing, and the joy of the other. Each one competes to give to his companion what the latter desires, hopes, and longs for.
So it was then, and is even now, after nearly ten years, between Graeme and me.
When at last our bodies were naked, almost without realizing it, we were on the bed, our limbs tightly entwined. Kissing with growing passion, while our breath was becoming deeper and faster, and our excitation was rapidly increasing, I read in the eyes on my sweet and beautiful lover the strength of his desire to fully give himself to me.
Graeme pulled the slim, strong legs on his chest so offering himself to me, and with a small voice begged, "Come..." then added dreamily, "Come in me, my love!"
While, as usual, I was wearing a condom, I looked at him, ready for me, waiting, his eyes shining in anticipation to taste the joy he was going to give me - his inviting and sweet smile more eloquent than a thousand words.
I leaned on him, hugged his adorable body folded in his silent offer, and I in my turn gave myself to him. My rod hard as steel, almost knowing its own way, leaned out at the junction point. I drew closer to him and pushed my pelvis forward and felt like I was carried to him.
It was not only the eighteen centimetres of my rod that were joining him, but all of me who was uniting, thank to that shuddering piece of flesh, that was finally renewing the solemn and sacred rite of the union. I slid into him and I felt welcomed, accepted, desired. I pushed with gentle vigour until I was completely inside him then I stopped. He let out a soft sigh and embraced my waist gently pulling himself more against me. While kissing me, his tongue started playing with mine, and I started to move, slowly but with vigour, inside him.
Parting for a moment his lips from mine, Graeme murmured, "Sergio, how can each time be more beautiful than the last one?"
"Are you happy, my love?"
"Yes... it's too good to finally feel you inside me again. It is beautiful feeling that you are mine, only mine... Yes, love, it is wonderful taking you so inside me. Really wonderful."
My thrusts began to be gradually more vigorous, while our mouths were searching again each other, and my pushes made all his beautiful body lightly dart, so that we really seemed united in a dance, a dance of love. Even though I could not see our bodies so united, I knew that in such moments we were both wonderful, and rather we were one only wonderful thing. I moved in him trying to give him the most enjoyment and pleasure, and he accompanied my movements with unconscious but wise mastery to give to me too that same happiness and enjoyment.
Both tense in the increasing desire to make happy our lover, we continued to move in unison in a counterpoint of moves and light moans of pleasure. Our hands were clutching, caressing the other with the self-confident certainty thank to which the body of the beloved becomes our own body, and therefore we know it so well as nobody else can know.
Two strangers can also enjoy a moment of shared sex, but in the end they don't know each other, each of them knows only himself and tries to get the maximum pleasure for himself. Two strangers, after all, do nothing but use each other. Nothing wrong with that, as long as they are both conscious and consenting.
But for two lovers all this is reversed, because every one of them knows the other as much and even better than himself, and does everything he can to make the other happy, and then indeed the two bodies, two for an outside observer, become just one in a mystical and very sweet union.
The sentence, apparently jokingly, that sometimes Graeme used with me, taking my virile member in his hand, saying "this is mine, not yours... it is part of me, part of my body..." was, possibly unconsciously, this truth.
Yes, really my virile member belonged to his body, and his tender and warm love receptacle was part of my body. This I was thinking, in one of the layers of which our mind is composed, while I was dancing into him, with him, and for him.
Yes, I have had to reach the opposite side of the world, where men walk with their feet up and head down, as I imagined as a child, to turn upside down also my beliefs about the essence of love.
I united with Graeme with renewed passion, with a renewed awareness of how lucky we were to be able to live such a deep love. My sweet lover was giving himself to me with manly sweetness, and I to him with sweet virility, and our union was perfect of a perfection that man alone can never achieve, but which miraculously becomes real through love.
And with a silent cry of joy, we both reached the earthly paradise, the Eden lost long ago, whose path seemed lost, whose gates seemed shut forever, but that we had now found again, opened wide, and where we entered, he and I, became one only thing, a single "I", an "I" eternally new and renovated, and we enjoyed a joy that no word can describe but that, who really loves, knows in the most intimate and real way.
"I love you!" said our voice in a whisper that ran through the whole world.
THE END
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