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JAMIE CLUMPAS (HE/ANY) As students descend back on to the city, it looks like Wellington has dodged a bullet—for now. Latest assessments show that the risk of the city moving to more extreme water restrictions has dropped by almost half since January, but authorities warn we are not out of the woods yet. Wellington Water has been warning of acute shortages of treated water since the start of Summer, and have put restrictions in place. Most of Wellington is on a level two water warning, which only bans the use of outdoor irrigation systems.  The likelihood of a shift up to level three water restrictions has dropped from 76% to 43%. Level three would see all outdoor water usage banned.  However, students already concerned about their flatmates’ hygiene should thank their chosen deity that the risk of level four has dropped to 17%, down from 33%. Level four requires a reduction of all household water use, urging a maximum of two minutes for showers and only one load of laundry per person each week. If a level four level is reached, Wellington Region Emergency Management ( WREMO ) would likely step in to declare a water emergency. It has been warned that areas of Wellington could temporarily have their water shut off entirely. WREMO has recommended Wellingtonians store 140 litres of water each in case of these shutoffs; a collective 500,000 for the approximately 3600 students moving into university accommodation. Accommodation services are confident, however, that the university’s reserves are adequate, with a spokesperson telling Salient “the University has two 90,000L water tanks on the Laby and Kirk buildings on the Kelburn campus, as well as two emergency water tanks which hold 45,000L.”  VUW management have maintained a relationship with WREMO and Wellington Water, and say they are prepared for possible increases in the risk of shortages in halls. To reduce the university’s water use, students have been encouraged to use the half-flush function on campus toilets, and to take shorter showers on campus and in halls.  Works to fix leaks on Vic campuses were completed last year, however students and staff have been urged to contact property services should they see “any unexpected running water" on campus. A spokesperson for Wellington Water told Salient that the improving situation means student’s can breathe a sigh of relief. "Our message to students is the situation is stable and we expect there will be adequate water supply for the residence halls and campus" Even though the situation has cooled, the spokesperson warned that the risk of increased levels has not subsided entirely; “If usage peaks, or there is a major outage or a reservoir went unexpectedly offline, this could have significant impact on the network, and an escalation to level 3 or even 4 is still possible.” Maintaining a buffer between water capacity and demand is essential to avoiding shortages in case of unplanned outages. Estimates show that as much as 45% of Wellington’s treated water is lost to leaks, severely impacting the ability for the agency to keep the system resilient. When Auckland’s leakages crossed over 13%, it was described as a "serious event" that "needs attention". The crumbling state of our pipes is a direct result of council underfunding, with Wellington Water admitting that investment in replacing the pipes has “not kept pace with the number of pipes nearing and exceeding their operational lives.”  With council’s narrow left-wing majority secured by Green candidate Geordie Rogers’ victory in last week’s council by-election, debate will continue—the council is so far relying on a controversial agenda of asset sales to pay for long-overdue investment in our Wai.

Passively-aggressively shouted by Ashleigh Putt-Fallows (she/her) Ngāpuhi-Ngāti Hine, Ngāti Whātua, Tūhoe If you don’t know what the reo means - google it :) As we come to the end of our holidays and close to the end of the first two months of the year, I think it’s important to acknowledge what has already been happening in Aotearoa New Zealand’s political space. Here is summary (I do implore you to look into these in more detail):  Hui aa Motu, Rātana and Waitangi.  Hui aa Motu:  In late 2023, Kiingi Tuuheitia announced Hui aa Motu following a Te Paki o Matariki, a significant royal proclamation. It urged all Māori to unite and ensure all have a voice in holding the government accountable. It was a rare occasion, the first such national hui since 2012, when it occurred over Māori water rights, and prior to that, the year of my birth. Historical moments.  Held 20th January 2024 at Tuurangawaewae Marae in Waikato or over livestream, hosted by Waikato Tainui. This hui came as a result of the response Kiingi had seen towards the new Coalition government, and one day after the ‘Treaty Bill’ was leaked to the public. Over 10,000 people attended, including representatives from various iwi. All opposition parties as well as National. Notably, ACT and NZF were absent, drawing criticism. Five breakout sessions were held:  Wellbeing of People Economy, Te Reo and Tikanga, Rangatahi, Treaty and Environment ,   and National Unity .   Each had  speakers, and space for anyone to share. Themes of Kotahitanga, Mana Motuhaketanga, Tuakiritanga and Wāheke dominated discussions, focusing on solutions amidst valid government criticism. The rangatahi forum in particular was big on moving away from Pōneke. Every conversation was critical, not all need to be shared externally, and some I don’t have space for in this. I suggest you read the full document produced once available to the public.  Rātana:  Rātana marks the beginning of the Māori political calendar, but I couldn't make it due to budget constraints. It's the first gathering attended by all government parties. Rātana, both a church and political movement, has played a crucial role in Māori politics. The holiday commemorates the birthday of Tahupōtiki Wiremu Rātana, a revered prophet.  Held around January 25th, 2024, at Rātana Pā, Whanganui, the event usually aims to decentralize politics, but this year, centrality was inevitable. Te Kiingitanga presence was notable, passing on Mauri and Hui aa Motu's documents to the government. Parties normally would attend together, but Te Pāti Māori attended alongside Kiingitanga, while ACT's absence drew criticism. Despite a festive atmosphere, discussions at Rātana were intense, with speakers strongly criticizing the new government and its Treaty bill. Shane Jones criticized kaikōrero for using Rātana for such debates, suggesting they be saved for Waitangi.  Waitangi:  Waitangi commemorates when Te Tiriti o Waitangi was signed in 1840 between iwi Māori and the Crown. To note the english and Māori versions are not the same, and are not interchangeable.  Held annually from February 4th to 6th in Waitangi, the event is inherently political, and this year was notably charged with palpable anger. Despite the positive atmosphere, there was a strong sense of Mana Motuhake, emphasizing Māori sovereignty and the importance of honoring te Tiriti o Waitangi. Tensions escalated. The three headed taniwha was likened to sand flies and spiders, memes were shared of them in a negative light, speakers from the government were booed, heckled and sung over. Our deputy PMs effectively suggested they have better things to do then be there. Both threw sulks about what they got called, and Luxon recycled the same speech from the year before. It's safe to say they did not ease tensions with Māori. In fact they shot in the opposite direction. Responses to this, like Hikoi ki Waitangi and Tama Iti’s blank canvas protest, have fast become defining images of this year's Waitangi Day. From political action to traditional demonstrations of our beautiful culture, there is so much more. I implore you to have a more detailed look, this and all the events mentioned deserve to be known by more than the political action that occurs at them.  On a personal note if our terrible two tantrum deputy PMs ever see this - Me pēhea koe ehara nō kuhu ki te whenua, ngā whenua o ōku iwi, e mau nei te ingoa o tōku kuia me te kore whakaute. E tipu ake, ka nanu koe i ō tūpuna.  This year I was very privileged to attend Hui aa Motu and, for the first time, Waitangi. It was an interesting, amazing and at times infuriating experience; the overall feeling was throwing gasoline on the fire. As we saw beginning in 2023, Māori are mobilizing and unifying, something I can only imagine, after what we have seen in only the first two months, will continue in 2024.  Toitū Te Tiriti  Mana Motuhake

Explored and Catalogued by Sabrina Gates (she/her) When I first decided to make the move to Te Whanganui-ā-tara, my Wellington-native Dad was delighted. All his fond and foolish memories flooded into his mind’s eye as he recounted, “you know, I probably have a memory on every street corner of that place”. After three short years in this city, I already felt I could agree to his statement. Wellington can feel small, especially when it’s assignment season and campus feels like a never-ending liminal space. Do not give in to this! Seek the crevasses and hidden gems.  Coffee, Beer, and Food. Start your residence here by enjoying the culinary creativity of the city, with so many options and cuisines. These are a drop in the harbour of what the baristas, chefs, and brewers of Pōneke have to offer.    Swimsuit, 5 Lombard Street Tucked away in a cosy nook on Lombard Street, a friendly barista brews an unmistakably Wellingtonian oat milk flat white. Lombard Street provides the perfect seclusion for study, hungover debriefs, great coffee, and highly addictive cheese scones. Swimsuits Dixon Street location is also great, its fishbowl interior and outside tables making it ideal for people watching.  The Rogue and Vagabond, 18 Garrett Street It’s 4pm on Friday, and you’ve just finished your last class of the week. Outside the lecture hall, the sun beats down on the hustle and bustle of students excited about the new year. Situated just 10 minutes away in Glover Park is a crisp Ginger Fusion 4% beverage from Rogue. Accompanied by live jazzy tunes, picnic style seating, and impeccable vibes—you won’t want to miss out.  Cafe Laz, 112 Cuba Street I couldn’t make this without shouting out my favourite kebab spot in the city. With a main restaurant in Newtown, they also have a quaint street stall at the entrance of Left Bank, just off Cuba Mall. The falafel kebab…lord…it’s so fresh and the portions are ridiculous.  Walks, Swims, and Picnics. Te Whanganui-ā-tara packs a whole lot of natural beauty into a small harbour. Familiarise yourself with the Metlink app (the Catchy  app is not-so-laggy alternative) and get exploring! Brooklyn Windmill, entrance at 231 Aro Street If you are new to Wellington, I challenge you and a friend to walk off the Sunday scaries with a march up to the windmill. Taking in Pōneke from above the hills changed my perspective of the city, and provided me a sense of direction and place—so important when moving somewhere new. If walking isn’t an option, the windmill is accessible by road so anyone can enjoy the view. Central Park, Brooklyn Road When I lived in town, I would trek this short loop every day to clear my head. I find immersing myself in nature helps to balance my mental health during the trimester, something that can be extra hard in halls. Not far from Kelburn Campus, Central Park is an inner-city oasis rich with native and exotic bush, streams, birds, and fungi of all kinds. It’s also a great picnic spot if you fancy! Princess Bay Beach, Te Aranui o Pōneke A rocky shoreline cradles this quaint sandy beach. Some of my fondest memories, of building bonfires and enjoying the best sunsets in Pōneke, have been made here. It’s a really special place. You may need to organise some transport to get here, but it is worth it.  Beyond Courtney Place  Post O-week, I’m sure many of you are more than familiar with the feral nature of Courtney Place on a weekend. Some can’t get enough of this stretch, and others will be left wondering—is that all there is of Pōneke nightlife? Do not fret, freshers, there is more to discover.  Meow, 9 Edward Street Meow is my go-to venue, with a diverse variety of shows and indoor-outdoor spaces. I’ve found the sound to be a let down sometimes, but the energy is always there! It’s also great to support their fundraising mahi, such as the Music 4 Palestine gig last year which brought together community awareness and donations for Palestinian whānau. Keep an eye on their schedule to snag early bird tickets as door sale prices can break the bank.  Valhalla, 154 Vivian Street One of the few places left with an authentically grimey club atmosphere where one can boogie into the early AMs. On a busy night, this spot is full to the brim. Here you will see the best (and worst) of the Pōneke DJ scene, which I highly encourage getting familiar with. Moon Bar, 167 Riddiford Street If you don’t check out Newtown nightlife at some point, you’re missing out. Moon Bar is where DJs as old as your Dad will be cranking the groove and funk tunes that only a seasoned mixer could spin. The crowd is local so it’s always best to respect the veterans by having a bloody good time. These are just a handful of the spaces my peers and I have come to love in the city, but there are many more! Finding your own spots to frequent is half of the fun, so go forth and enjoy all that Te Whanganui-ā-tara has to offer!

Picture credit: Ben Pope Words by: Guy van Egmond (he/him) Perhaps I shouldn’t have gone to this show. Because, truth be told, I knew I was going to love it. I’ve watched hours of Mock the Week and Taskmaster and Live at the Apollo: that gloriously dry, deadpan British humour is my shit.  But not just mine, apparently. More than 65 people turned out for Ben Pope’s Holy Cow on a Wednesday night; a pretty solid turnout which Ben wasted no time in bullying us about (who goes to a comedy gig on a Wednesday?!). With some strategic table placement, Fringe Bar felt basically sold out: the perfect, cosy little venue for a deep dive into love, death, the endless void of existence, and a day in the life of a Westminster hype man.  Mister Benedict Pope (yes, that is his full name) took us on a tour of a life inextricably tied up in everyone else’s weddings. He’d been there as a waiter, a singer, a best man and an obligated friend, because everyone is turning 30 now. His three main stories wove quite seamlessly between discussions of unconditional love (reserved for dogs only), God and Jesus (the Catholic brand ambassador), and bullshit astrology (“Sorry I cheated on you, but I’m a Cancer and we’re spontaneous”, said his ex).  It was an incredibly well-written show, very clever and surprisingly clean. He played his deadpan and cheerful deliveries well against each other, and balanced rapid-fire jokes with slower punchlines. His stories devolved into greater debauchery every time, but with enough conclusion between chapters to let us breathe.  Which I mean literally for the two women behind me. By the halfway point of the show they’d lost all sensibility, in a feedback loop that kept them cackling uncontrollably. Even Ben had to stop and wait, which did highlight his biggest flaw. His crowd-work was little more than a reactionary quip here and there, which made it feel very much like a ‘show’. Totally fine, but an intimate venue like Fringe Bar lends itself very well to a bit of back-and-forth banter; he definitely missed out on riffing with some too-drunk patrons. That said, he opened with some really nice local stuff, Absolutely Positively taking the piss out of the Wellington wind and kiwi kindness.  Ben Pope is not, as he called it, a ‘drugs fellow’, but his Holy Cow  show felt like the conversation you have at 2 in the morning, lying in the Botans with your friends, stoned off your faces. It was absolutely delightful. Unfortunately the man was only in New Zealand for the week, and this may have been the last time he performed Holy Cow . However, it might come back as a recorded show on Youtube, so keep an eye out!

Picture credit: NZ Fringe Words by Chloe Eichler (they/she)  Author’s Note: I know Sarah Penny, who plays Alice and Joanne in the show. An Old-Fashioned Lesbian Love Story Whisking us back to a world of swing jazz and giggle juice, Bars Behind Bars  is an immersive experience. From the moment the audience enters, the actors are scattered about, welcoming us, having secret conversations in the hallway, sending us back in time. The show begins with a fourth-wall-breaking introduction to the characters and their lives at The Cat’s Pajamas, an illicit bar in Manhattan during the prohibition. When the bar’s owner is murdered in the back room, his wife Annie is the primary suspect of the interrogation.  Despite having a limited area of IVY Bar to work with, and minimal props, the actors interact with them and each other in a way which makes us feel as though we’re in the audience at The Cat’s Pajamas. Making such a small space work in their favour is really impressive. The only drawback with props is that the cork ‘evidence board’ falls over a few times—finding some way to stick it to the wall, even if it takes a whole stick of blu-tac, would make some scenes run more smoothly. A highlight of the show for me is the use of voice—the 1920’s New York accent is so distinctive that the show wouldn’t be the same without it, and they were nailed for the most part. And though the music is slightly too loud at times, the clear diction of the performers ensures the lyrics are still brought to life, which is commendable given the speed at which they fly by. In a show with characters who do morally questionable things, it makes sense that we dislike the characters as much as they dislike each other—this was performed especially well by the three leads, creating a clear dynamic between them which invites the audience deeper into the mystery. However, we also need to connect with them, even in ways that make us uncomfortable—like relating to Bill’s resentment or Annie’s vanity. There isn’t quite enough weight in the characters’ vulnerable moments; if the tone slows right down from grandiose to intimate, the audience can appreciate them more. If we see Annie let her guard down, Eddie let go of his panic, or Bill let his anger melt into misery, we connect with them in a more profound way.   For me, a large part of the show’s weaknesses come from its length. Because it’s only 45 minutes, there are no other suspects in the murder mystery, and the ending appears largely out of nowhere. As much fun as it was, it’s not a satisfying plot twist if we can’t see it coming, even in retrospect. With that being said, it’s still satisfying in its execution. “An Old-Fashioned Love Story” is undoubtedly the best musical number, with fantastic harmony between actors both in terms of singing and acting. Allikins and Marilyn Mansilla clearly have a great time performing the number, and their energy is infectious. This energy is also brought into the moments of comedy in the show, which are at their best when improvised and particularly with the audience—it gives the fourth-wall breaking a purpose beyond using it to introduce the characters. With a runtime of only 45 minutes, a small space, and minimal set, props, and costumes, “Bars Behind Bars” still shines brightly.

Picture credit: Hāpaitia social media Words by: Ashleigh Putt-Fallows (she/her) (Ngāti Whātua, Ngāpuhi, Tūhoe) Content warning: Death Hāpaitia, created by Parekawa Finlay and Raureti Ormond and produced by Te Auaha, was an incredibly insightful and significant show that explored themes of the Māori mind and emotion intertwined with Te Ao Māori, our history, our whakapapa and our connection to those.  As I walked in, I immediately noticed the set ambience, with one suitcase filled with dirt in the middle of the stage and more falling in. Lighting and sound helped to create this, with the light almost mimicking what natural light would be and the sound being soft but present. They begin the show with Tīmata, a well-crafted monologue and waiata resisting their respective connection through the whenua of their whanau to Papatūānuku that reminds me of tūpuna on the marae. Then starts Te Kaikohi, where Parekawa explores the internal colonisation of her mind and her journey to free herself from the colonial mindset. With an outstanding balance and smooth transition of humour and serious discussion, she talks about Horatio Robley - a coloniser from the 1860s - and his part in our history in and around the Waikato invasion during the Māori land wars. She bears her whole self in a confronting yet validating first half.  This was complemented by special lighting and sound design, which helped demonstrate emotion and attitudes at the time and connected her kōrero back to the Tikanga of Māori people. She beautifully explains Tikanga Māori to help illustrate just how different these attitudes were. Raureti then launches into Te Whio, the whistle, which utilises an ensemble to demonstrate some possible kōrero from the victims of the Tangiwai Disaster. Set on Christmas Eve 1953, the kōrero and waiata provide an emotional experience as you watch the characters give their own lives and the chance to ever see home again. It's a touching and thought-provoking piece that brings us into the heads of those victims. It was evident that much effort had gone into how the waiata was sung and how they sounded, including what different harmonies, emphasises and quiet moments would tell the audience about a particular character or the group. The choreography was well-matched and executed with great timing.  The lighting, along with the costumes and props, effectively conveyed the setting and time period. The ending, Mutunga, had an almost whanau vibe, encouraged by the use of 'Country Roads' by John Denver between Raureti and Parekawa as they brought us back to the main themes and our connection to te ao and each other.  Overall, the show and everyone involved did a fantastic job showcasing topics that can be hard to understand and incorporating aspects from Te Ao Māori. If I had any ways to improve, it would be refining it a little in some waiata and chorus but more importantly, if I had one critique, it would be that the show should be open for more than four days. I would encourage everyone to watch it and listen attentively to its message.  Show Details: Te Auaha (Tapere Nui) 21-24 February 2024 7.30pm shows 4.30pm matinee 24 Feb Full Price $20 Concession $15 Fringe Addict $16 Ticket + 5 $25 Ticket + 10 $30 Book tickets here: https://fringe.co.nz/show/hpaitia or Fringe Box Office

A tale as old as time: men can’t talk to women… Picture credit: Phoebe Robertson Words by: Guy van Egmond (he/him) Turning a five-act verse drama from 19th-century France into a digestible, Bridgerton-era story would be daunting for any theatre company, let alone one that grew from a class of undergrads. But you cannot say they didn’t give it a damn good try. It was wonderful to see a bigger ensemble cast at a Fringe show, with real energy and aspiration; their concept of swashbuckling steampunk poets, fighting with steel and sonnets alike, was truly delightful. Ultimately though, when it came to putting on a well-polished show, The Cyranoid  was tarnished by its overambition.  The play was a fair adaptation of Cyrano de Bergerac , albeit quite condensed. The story followed Cyrano—decorated war hero and wordsmith—who the world has deemed disfigured and thus unworthy of Roxane, the woman he loves (thankfully, this adaptation did skip the bit where she’s his cousin). Squarely in the friendzone, Cyrano ends up ghostwriting love letters to Roxane for Christian, a pretty-boy soldier who lacks the wit to woo her. The Cyranoid  gets the gist of all that, as well as cramming in at least seven songs, four other love affairs, three different accents and too many crude one-liners. Not to mention the Franco-Spanish War and the French Revolution (which inexplicably happened at the same time?) and an uncomfy amount of shock comedy based on queer sex and kink.  In all its ambition, the play gave itself no time to sit with its own story; almost no one had space to grow or develop. It reduced everyone to mere stock characters, making most scenes feel very melodramatic. That said, characters who could flex and mature a little, such as Ethan Cranefield’s Christian, stood out immediately. He served as a strong anchor to every scene he was in. Roxane and Cyrano (Ava O’Brien and Alex Quinn) rounded out a strong trio of leads, with nice flashes of chemistry and strong delivery.  However, the delivery of lines very often served to muddy the already murky waters of the plot. Many lines were swallowed by the backstage shadows, as actors turned away from their audience. Though almost everyone seemed to be mic’d up, this only caused more problems, as dialogue was lost to bumps, crackles and poor mixing. Most disruptive however, were the French accents that some characters put on. Clearly an over-the-top comedic bit, they were thick to the point of unintelligibility.  That said, when we could catch them, the moments of fourth-wall and TikTok comedy got a hearty cackle from the whole audience (this reviewer loved the nod to ‘Roxanne’ by The Police). The show absolutely did pull through at some points, including the original music by Nate Smyth, Teddy O’Neill’s consistently good lighting design, and Alanah Munn’s incredibly fun and romantic costume work—not to mention her wahine toa Captain le Bret, who was a strong supporting character.   The Cyranoid  certainly bit off more than it could chew, when it came to scope and execution. That said, the joy coming off that stage was truly palpable; everyone brought an incredible passion and energy to the show. Though its time at Fringe has by now come to a close, I hope that Les Mécaniques stick around. I think they had the bones of a really fun show, and perhaps one day they might revive its ticking heart. I’d check it out again if they did.

Picture credit: Circus of the Night Words by Chloe Eichler (they/she)  The circus is in town, but it might be a little different than you remember…   In a mesmerising hour at the Fringe Bar, “Circus of the Night” presents a variety of classic circus acts - juggling, knife tricks, acrobatics - alongside the glamour, sequins, and risqué fun of burlesque. With these ‘tricks and bits’ promised by the charismatic host, this show is a match made in heaven.   And of course, what better way to start the show than with some bits? Allikins Rose’s performances are bombastic, captivating, and cheeky (literally). With layers upon layers of sequins, feathers, lace, and silk, they easily have the most extravagant costumes. Seriously, if I had a list of all the fabrics I associate with burlesque, I could tick off pretty much all of them with just Allikin's first act. But the best part of their performances is the silliness - an often neglected part of burlesque. The silliness invites the audience to let themselves go and have a great time, and it absolutely works without undercutting the sexiness.   From the other half of the show’s initial promise, there are the tricks. The ease and informality with which Matthias Goed introduces himself to the audience is merely a ruse, behind which sits some ambitious circus tricks that must take years to master. From spinning flaming knives on his forehead (technically, the tea lights hanging from the swords were flaming) to standing on a balance board on top of another balance board, the once-rowdy audience was stunned into nail-biting silence. There was a moment when the handle came off one of his knives - it may or may not have been a bit, but it played off well regardless. The next circus act is Lisa Komatsubara, one of Aotearoa’s top jugglers, who begins her act without a word. Juggling seamlessly with three balls, then four, then five - all in time to the music - was incredible. But as impressive as the act is, it’s not quite tonally cohesive with the rest of the show - the lack of costume and flair was made more pronounced by the fact that it was right after the flashiness of Allikins Rose’s performance. Not only would Lisa’s act benefit from a more spectacular presentation, an act which requires that level of skill deserves to be presented well. As well as producing the show, Nicole Maisley (AKA Athena Rose) also stole it. With the perfect balance of tricks and bits (and perfect balance itself), she was utterly captivating. Spinning around on an aerial hoop in the first act and aerial loops in the second act, the grace and strength, but most importantly the effortlessness of her performance was astounding. It was majestic AF.   And the host, Zane Jarvie, was the glue that held it all together - while audiences often freeze up at the prospect of their participation, Jarvie is a professional at making an atmosphere that was equal parts comfortable and engaging . While the performers are preparing backstage, he serves us up a tight five to divert our attention, made all the better by the willingness and energy of the crowd - only in Wellington would Some Random Guy eagerly volunteer to drink beer from a sippy bottle attached to the belt of a man with plasters over his nipples because he’d been ‘a good little adult’.   The music and lighting cues were simple but seamless, and the Fringe Bar was a fantastic choice of venue - there was plenty of space for the performers to move around, but it still had the intimate feeling of what I imagine cabaret shows in the past were like. Despite there being a couple of slip-ups (which were played off very well), and a bit of a sightline issue for the back half of the crowd, they were more than made up for by the jaw-dropping, oh-my-god-how-are-they-doing-that viewing experience that you can only get from a circus.   Circus of the Night was fun, fresh, and as risqué as it was impressive. To me, the secret of the show is this - the nail-biting tricks make you want to look away, but the bits and the costumes make sure your eyes never leave the stage.   Unfortunately, they’ve packed up their tent for the time being, but Circus of the Night will be returning to Fringe Bar on March 28 th  - and whether you’re there for the tricks, the bits, or a little bit of both, this show is entertaining as hell.

Words by Ethan Manera (he/him) and Francesca Pietkiewicz (she/they)  A curious condom machine in a men's bathroom on Kelburn campus has vanished following reporting by Salient , with the university sending mixed signals. The coin operated machine piqued Salient ’s interest in April for its retro charm and bizarrely off-branded product.  When asked back in April, machine co-owner Andrew told us that although he has personally “never worn a condom”, students were eating them up, “It's a well used machine.” Now, students no longer have the protection of a $2 studded Johnny. The wall in the men’s bathroom on level 1 of the Student Union is bare, with four screw holes left in memory of the metallic money-maker.  We can't know for sure how many unplanned pregnancies have happened as a result of its removal—we don't even know why it was removed in the first place. Salient  issued a ‘please explain’ to the university. A spokesperson said, “The condom machine in the men’s toilets outside Mauri Ora was removed in late 2022 as it was no longer operational. The university attempted to make contact with the supplier but received no response.” However, this simply isn't true. Salient  has seen evidence that a student purchased a condom from the machine in March this year, and used it successfully.  When questioned further, the university replied that “although the removal was requested in late 2022, the machine was not actually removed until 12 April 2023”, merely nine days after the publication of our original article. They also claimed that “the machine was not operational, with its mechanisms, dispenser, and feeder rusted and non-functional. There were no signs of recent replenishment.” But Neil, the other co-owner of the machine, reckons “that's not true at all”. He said the machine was fully operational and regularly refilled, claiming it was one of their most successful machines nationwide.   Neil was contacted by the university two months ago, by “someone who thinks they wield some power” to remove the machine, and says it “was a real shame because it was getting a fair bit of use”. He said he doesn't want to cause any trouble with the university, he just wants to reinstall the machine and get back to business. “I’d love to put it back,”Neil said. “If you can pull some strings and get it put back in, I'd be really grateful.”

Words by Pippi Jean (she/her) Okay, I know it’s not technically Halloween. This issue is closer to the election than that good ol’ murder-mystery-skeleton-fright-night. But the Christmas pop up store is already flaunting its red and green cheer on Willis Street, so it’s official: nothing is real anymore, including time. Plus, I think it’s time for a little nostalgia trip, as well as a how-to on making your own fake blood (for your Halloween parties, celebrations, or other various uses—whatever it is, it’s not my business).  When I was younger, my neighbourhood was super big on Halloween. Every last weekend of October, each fence down the streets near my house was covered in spiderwebs. People put creepy dolls in their windows and pumpkins on their doorsteps. Ike’s Emporium used to sell fake human hands and feet. Once, when I was little, I saw somebody had strung up a whole leg from the roof over their front porch, and I nearly cried.  According to Kiwi Kids News , “Halloween is not quite as popular in Aotearoa as in other Western countries, and in the past wasn’t generally even celebrated here.” Still, retail outlets push the occasion. I remember the Halloween spirit in my hometown used to come and go. Some years, most houses on a street would be decorated, and other years, hardly anyone would. One thing I didn’t realise is that we put out a Halloween ‘sign’, or decorations, to tell kids it’s okay to trick-or-treat. In America, on 31 October, it’s more a thing that kids expect to be given treats everywhere they knock.   Halloween has always seemed so American to me. The tradition originated with the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain, when people would light bonfires and wear costumes to ward off ghosts. The evening before was known as ‘All Hallow’s Eve’. Those celebrations emigrated with Europeans to America, where All Hallow’s Eve became an occasion for ‘play parties’: private parties thrown to celebrate the next day’s harvest. Over time, this evolved into what we know today as Halloween, which is so huge in America that trick-or-treating can shut down whole streets. As a teen, I used to be jealous of the Halloween scenes in shows like Stranger Things . Everything on set was so loud and busy. It looked like the entire neighbourhood was celebrating the occasion.  What does Halloween mean to you now, as a student? A good excuse for a dress up party? End of assessments for the second Trimester? Absolutely nothing? For me, it’s a mix of all of those things. Around the end of October, I recall being 7 years old and running around in the park near my house, back in my hometown, with my brother and plastic bags full of candy.  I remember being 12 and asking kids who came to our house to spin around and recite the alphabet backwards. That sense of nostalgia makes me antsy. Around the same time every year, I feel like getting up and doing something Halloween-y to get those feelings back.  Whether you’re hosting a flat party for this year’s Halloween, pulling a Halloween themed prank, or getting ready to film a new Halloween video on your super-secret ASMR channel (I don’t know your life), I thought I’d supply some awesome recipes for fake blood. A great addition to moulage, these recipes will be sure to make your Halloween costumes pop.  Chocolate Fake Blood This sort has more of a realistic bloody look. The cocoa powder makes the mixture a dark, gooey red. Meanwhile, the corn syrup base gives the mixture a good thickness. A potential drawback is that its quite sticky.  You’ll need:  2 tablespoons corn syrup 4 drops of red food colouring 1 teaspoon cocoa mix Mix and chill to… serve? To use. To decorate! Washable Fake Blood This one is a crowd fave in my first responders team because it’s easy to make, use, and clean up. The dishwashing liquid means that the red stains will be much easier to wash out from clothes.  You’ll need: ⅔ parts dish soap/detergent 4 drops red food colouring  2 drops blue food colouring 1 drop yellow food colouring Mix and test on a cloth or item of clothing for how well it washes out! Non-Sticky Fake Blood Most fake blood recipes on the internet will suggest you use corn syrup, but this stuff can get super sticky and uncomfortable to wear as part of a costume. Luckily, you can make your final product realistic-looking without using corn syrup.  You’ll need: 1 cup of water 2 cups of powdered sugar 2 tablespoons red food colouring 1 tablespoon cocoa powder First, blend your water and powdered sugar on a blender on low, or with a whisk. Then add red food colouring and blend in. Finally, add the cocoa powder and blend the mixture completely. This is another edible recipe, but it will also stain clothing, so watch out!

Words by Francesca Pietkiewicz (she/they) CW: Disordered Eating. 2000’s nostagliacore is all over my FYP. Soft-grunge 2014 Tumblr is resurfacing. I’m going on Sylvanian shopping trips. It feels like my brain has been wired back to the past. For the first time since I was 16, I’m off birth control. Maybe this #tbtthursday is more like a freaky friday with my teenage self.  The 2010s were my teens. Like any bullied-child-turned-awkward-teen, I was chronically online. I was a Youtube and Vine obsessed tween who reblogged Nike Free Runs, Starbucks drinks we didn’t have in Aotearoa, and read The Perks of Being a Wallflower . I leaned far into anime obsessions and became an Animal Crossing  playing, budget Lolita weeaboo. A couple of months into being 14, I flipped the switch, declaring all my past selves as undeniably cringe, and dived into my Van Gogh, sock-wearing, mustard-yellow-Kanken-bag-obsessed, art-hoe era. Not forgetting a tiny K-pop phase in between, once I was 15, I reset back to indie-alty Tumblr and Mac DeMarco, and masked a lack of self confidence with music pretentiousness. I never thought my mid-teens, riddled with insecurity, would seem so sparkly rose-tinted in reminiscence. But living in 2023 has got me there. A part of me wishes I was 15 and awkward again: a time before balancing rent, work, and personal life. It was an era that I described in my diary as being “wasted” because I hadn’t been in a relationship yet and I wasn’t going to enough parties. I’ve dyed my hair back to the colour it was when I first dyed my hair. I’m listening to almost exclusively midwestern emo and indie grooves. Believe it or not, I’ve even made a new Tumblr account. Why does taking an Alice in Wonderland -type-edible to transport me back to my teens seem so tasty right now? Humans often experience nostalgia in times of solitude or transition, and I’m experiencing both.I’m burnt-out to a crisp, trying to stay sane and apply for my Master’s while finishing up my editorship. .  It’s not just me. The 2020s are a wack time to be in your 20s—it’s no wonder Gen Z is ready to get jiggy with our cringe cinnamon-challenge past all over again. We’ve experienced technology costing us jobs, a climate crisis, and a global pandemic. Here in Aotearoa, we’re in a housing crisis and a $7 cucumber isn’t unheard of. Our lifetimes have been fraught with social change.  “I think it’s no secret that the younger generations, and Gen-Z much more so than my own, have been asked to bear the burdens of change much more so than previous ones,” says School of Languages and Cultures Lecturer Charles Rice-Davis. It makes sense we’d be wanting to grasp onto memories of a seemingly  simpler time.  Let’s hop on every 2000s kid’s favourite form of public transport—The Magic School Bus—and learn a little bit about the origins of ‘nostalgia’. Nostalgia first became a “widespread concern” around the French Revolution. “[The 17th century was a time of] tremendous social change and upheaval. […] There were recognised epidemic outbreaks of nostalgia. This also was the point where people start to talk about a ‘nostalgia’, not just for a place, but a time—for a world that no longer exists, […] [for] familiar surroundings or a yearning for a past that was a simpler, more secure time,” Charles says.  When we think of nostalgia, we think of youth, particularly coming of age: the initial independence we experience in our teens and 20s. Charles informed me nostalgia was first coined in 1688 by a 19-year-old university student named Johannes Hofer. The word ‘nostalgia’ is derived from the Greek words notos, or homesickness and algos, pain. “The English phrase ‘homesickness’ had to be invented to translate ‘nostalgia’,” Charles told me. Johannes’ studies examined young, Swiss, working immigrants, and categorised their depressive symptoms—like not being able to “get out of bed”—as nostalgia, which was then considered to be a mental disorder. “Today, we might call them homesick or depressed, but those words hadn’t been invented yet, and doctors weren’t sure if anyone could get this disease, or just Swiss, [but] Nostalgia was considered extremely serious, deadly even,” Charles says.  In her article ‘I re-read my teenage diaries hoping for a dose of nostalgia—instead I was horrified’, published in The Guardian , Amelia Tait speaks to the misleading sparkle of coming-of-age films. “I love to see the magic of girlhood represented in coming-of-age movies such as Lady Bird …but [when] I look back at my own adolescent self and see a floundering fish who hurt and was hurt, with little meaning or beauty,” Amelia writes.  Nostalgia has a deceptive lure. Oten, we only connect with our memories at surface value. We can get lost in the past and edit out the pain. “My piece didn’t really make me feel nostalgic for being a teenager itself, but more for things like MSN. I suppose I felt a little nostalgic for that teenage excitement of fancying people, but then the diaries were so raw that I could see that overall none of it was especially pleasant. I cried to read my old pain—I didn’t expect to, but I sobbed and sobbed when I got to my eating disorder passages,” Amelia said.  I relate to Amelia’s experience—I’m nostalgic for the innocence and the simplicity of high school life. I miss knowing dinner would be cooked for me, and not worrying about the price of cereal. When I listen to my 2016 Top Songs playlist, I block out the fact that was the year I swapped out meals for iced Americanos.  The uncanny thing about the Gen Z nostalgic experience is the way the digital age shaped our upbringings. I’ve often described my Instagram as a curated scrapbook. Amelia shared a similar view. “I like to scroll back through my Instagram because it feels like a catalogue of my life,” she says. With computers, phones, social media accounts, and chat history, we can keep time capsules and review how we grew up. Since I was about 6, I’ve kept an inconsistent physical diary, but my childhood imagery is captured on Windows Movie Maker and iMovie. I have Photo Booth compilations from my teens, filled with content of me studying, crying, or hanging out with friends. Watching them feels like I’ve rented a time machine. For Pōneke author Joy Holley, the sense of anticipatory nostalgia, or being “aware of creating a memory”, was an inspiration for her book of short stories, Dream Girl . “Gen Z and late millennials feel this anticipatory nostalgia when we take photos or make playlists. My friends and I have got really into voice messages over the past year, and I think they will be the most insane thing to listen back on in the future,” she says. I think the 2000s were the perfect time to be a child. Everything was plastic, glossy, and glittery. We were in the first digital age, exploring everything artificial from the unsettling animation in kids’ TV to the highly sweetened and hyper coloured kids’ food. I feel blessed to have experienced the original, sickly sweet, teeth pulling fruit roll ups before they were banned here. I love that Y2K styles are still popular and that my favourite childhood toy Littlest Pet Shop has popped up on my social media in the form of an affirmation post.  In a time where Gen Z is independent and has a smidgen of their own money, capitalism is profiting off our urge to escape into the secure aspects of our youth. “This isn’t nostalgic escapism—it’s nostalgic capitalism. Companies are trying to pretend they can sell us a feeling; they can’t. If you buy a Sylvanian now, it’s not going to feel the same. […] I think nostalgia is best when it is internal, and the rise of nostalgic movies, trends, and products does worry me. We need to look forward as a society!” Amelia says.    I think that letting our past selves take charge of our wallet to honour self care is sometimes okay. Well, at least, VUW Professor of Psychology Karen Salmon reassured me it was. “I can see how that if it was done with an attitude of ‘things were a bit tough with me, for me when I was a child, but now I'm thinking about how I can live my best life’ […] [then] sounds like quite a positive thing if it was done with a view to the person caring for themselves,” she says.  Since I entered my 20s, I’ve been nicer to myself about embracing things that in my late teens I deemed childish. I have a row of plushies on my bed and I’m currently re-watching Adventure Time . I’ve embraced my neurodivergence and bought fidget toys. I feel like my inner child is smiling.  We have to make the call for ourselves, and know we’re allowed to soothe our inner children. Charles reiterates this, “I think nostalgic artefacts which can provide reminders of simpler times can be soothing for all of us, can give us that general sense of feeling ‘at home’. For a generation that uniquely lacks these basic forms of security, it makes sense that there might be a greater demand for that secure feeling.”.  We need to acknowledge that when we’re nostalgic, we don’t actually want to go back to the past: we are just looking for comfort. Our inner children are overwhelmed by the unforeseen crises that our generation is bearing.  Karen says looking back in a positive way can help with “developing resourcefulness”. Our generation, unlike any before us, needs resourcefulness and safe distance to consider the challenges we face in the future. We need to remember that we’re capable, and creating a good relationship with our past selves is one way to do this. For now, I’m stepping off this magic school bus to find my Littlest Pet Shop collection and journal about how little it helped get me where I am today. Maybe it’ll help with my confidence for writing my Master’s application, maybe it will just be fun.

Words by Maia Ingoe (she/her) and Zoe Mills (they/she)  It’s that time of year again: hordes of freshers perform the annual ritual of scurrying to find a flat before the next academic year begins. The difficulty to even be offered a flat as a first-time renter has forced our news intern to accept a flat in the ditch of Devon Street in Aro Valley (pray for him).  To save you from the same fate, we’ve put together our top tips on finding a flat. Hit up the VUWSA Advocates, Brie Keatley and Erica Schouten ( advocate@vuwsa.org.nz ), for more free advice and support.  Make a flat CV   Just like for a job application, put together a CV showcasing your flatting group. Print it out and bring it with you to viewings—it’s a sure way to prove you are interested, organised, and memorable. A good flat CV should have photos of everyone—not your drunk pics from Shady Lady though, thanks. Include your current occupation (Student or working? Full time or part time?) as well as any renting history. Include a phone number for references from the halls, as well as a character reference and employment reference. Property managed tenancies will likely need you to fill this info out on an online form, so it’s a good idea to have it organised before applying.   Facebook is your bestie   Act like a boomer and spend all your spare scrolling minutes on Facebook. TradeMe is good, but Facebook is where the most rentals are. Most flats have filled up all their viewing slots within minutes of being posted, so get in quick. Comment that you’ve messaged, so you don’t get lost in requests.  Pin these groups to the top of your feed so that you don’t miss a post: Wellington - Rooms/Flats/Apartments/Flatmates, Flats and Rooms for Rent Wellington NZ, Flats & Flatmates - Wellington, Wellington Flatmates & Rentals, Flatmates Wanted Wellington, and of course, Vic Deals. There’s Facebook groups for all your specific needs, such as Wellington Pet Friendly Rentals, or Queer Housing Network NZ - Wellington.