I began busking in Queenstown on the 2nd of January, 2018. It was one of the most rewarding decisions of my life. But it almost didn’t come to fruition…
They had spread throughout my whole body - I was terrified! My music wasn’t ready yet .. I needed more practice .. Sure I performed with my band SHEEP, but this was different!
I opened the boot of my car, revealing the heap of gear I had gathered to make busking as a piano player possible. It was a lot of stuff! - A full sized keyboard (battery operated), a keyboard stand, a fat black amplifier (also battery operated), my special fold-up chair, and a little treasure chest for tips. Only then, as I stared half vacantly at the stack of busking apparatus, did it dawn on me: ‘How the heck am I meant to transport all this stuff to the waterfront??’ After all the expenses and all the hassle, of course there was something I forgot to consider… I shoved the boot shut, and wandered sheepishly to the waterfront which was just around the corner. So many people were out here - criss-crossing in all directions, taking photos, slurping on ice-cream. ‘Ah stuff it’, I thought. ‘I’ll probably make a fool of myself out here anyway.’ Right then, I called it. I gave up.
As I turned to head back to my car, a group of my old classmates from Queenstown Resort College emerged out of the sweep of people. Suddenly, I had eight extra hands to help carry my car. And no more excuses.
Happy to help, my friends each grabbed a piece of equipment from the back of the Emerald Wagon, and I hoisted the keyboard up onto my shoulder. We trooped along the humming waterfront, joyous in the softening day. I forgot to notice the beauty of Queenstown - all I could feel was the nerves whisking my legs into mush. I chose a spot underneath some trees and started setting up the rig as my allies stood by. Trying to look like I knew what I was doing, I plugged in the leads, connected everything up, double checked that all the batteries were in, and opened the treasure chest. I could almost feel the stares of the strangers all around me, burning holes in my back. I sat on my chair, trying desperately to hide the panic that was pounding from within. I definitely wasn’t ready, but there was no turning back now.
And then, I played. I had been practicing a setlist of my Original Piano Tunes for the past month, and I pulled out the first one, a triumphant tune called ‘St Clair’. It was only fitting for my first busk ever - this was more or less the true birth of 'Joshua St Clair'. Before long, all my fears, all my worries, and all the absurd thoughts were hushed in the inherent peace of the piano tone, and transformed into the joy of performing for other people. I was playing the piano, out in public! Well, not a real piano, but the Casio PX-5S keyboard did the trick! Hundreds of folks from all around the world ambled past as I played my original tunes, some tossing coins into the treasure chest, others showing their appreciation with a smile. One generous man even came up and gave me a compliment: “Great to hear some original music out here, keep it up!”
I couldn’t believe it - people were actually enjoying my music. And giving me money for it! I played as the last of the daylight bathed the Remarkables in a warm orange glow, the calm evening falling upon Queenstown like a bed of feathers. The lamps perched along the pier lit up in their own time, shining down on the people strolling along. After about an hour, I had played through most of my music, and stood from my chair. A pile of coins was gleaming from my treasure chest, and I excitedly knelt down and started counting them. It added up to $75.00. This was the first time I had earned money from something I had created - it was exhilarating.
After finishing work, I couldn’t get to the waterfront quick enough. But when I got there, I realised that I was still faced with the same problem of transporting all my stuff to the waterfront - I couldn’t just rely on other people. My gear just looked at me from the trunk as if to say ‘well, we can’t carry ourselves…'
I carried half of the gear over to the waterfront, and noticed an interesting looking fellow sitting nonchalantly on the sidewall, his back facing the silvery-blue lake. He had thick dreadlocks dangling from his head, and eyes of a traveller who had seen many countries. By his side was a trolley with a didgeridoo and an amplifier strapped on with elastic bands. Another busker! I approached him, and asked kindly if he could watch my stuff as I went to get the rest. “Yeah for sure man!” he replied with a huge smile, delighted to help. “You’re busking here too?” he asked, glancing at the stuff I was laying against the sidewall. “Yeah I just started actually. I had my first busk ever just here yesterday,” I replied, gesturing over to the trees I sat beneath the night before. He clasped my shoulder with gusto. “Congratulations brother, welcome to the Party! I’m Loca, from South Korea.” He was cool! I wanted to stay and chat with him; hear his story. But the excitement of busking for the second time was reeling me in, and I didn’t wrestle with its gravity. A chance to make more money…
I set up under a lamp this time, my emotions contrary to that of the night before. I was confident. Too confident… After about 20 minutes of playing, I stood from my chair and gazed forlornly into my treasure chest - only a few old coins sat there, merely a quarter of which were Kiwi coins. It made me a little grumpy. Why was it not working today? People walked by, and didn’t even bother a glance. My fingers weighed heavier on the keys, the music stifled. I peered over the way, and saw Loca sitting cross legged with his didgeridoo stretched out before him, a swathe of people gathering around him in a half-ring. I kept punching away at my music, trying to startle peoples' attention. They seemed more interested in Loca - I only made $11.40 after an hour. I didn’t expect busking to be a competitive game. . .
After getting the gear back to the car with much effort, I took my handful of coins over to Perky’s, the floating bar boat, and purchased myself a beer. Sinking into my journal, I had to admit to myself that I was a novice, and I had much to learn. I was having trouble swallowing this truth, until I remembered something. It was Thursday night!
I hurried off the boat and over to Beech street, where the ’secret’ jam night was in full swing every Thursday night (RE: Nessie's Final Gift). Last time I went, it was as colourful as a bag of jellybeans - a pocket of music magic and vibes tucked within the roofs of inner Queenstown. This time? Music, magic and mayhem! Tribal mayhem…
I squeezed through the mass of people into the courtyard, and was consumed by the empowering voice of the Didgeridoo. It engulfed everything. In the heart of the jam was Loca, some legend breathing gusts of air into his Didgeridoo, hands at his sides like cobras. No shit.. Of course he would be here! I snatched the opportunity to play some keys behind his deep tones, seeing the swab of people gathered in the courtyard, spellbound. And that’s when I realised. Loca and I aren’t competitors - we are musicians!
(You can follow Loca's epic adventure on Instagram here - https://www.instagram.com/tarzanloca/)
It was a day off work - and a beautiful day too. I thought I’d try busking when the pristine blue skies praised the mighty sun. Unfortunately, however, I couldn’t park my car near the waterfront, as these were the hours when the parking wardens patrolled the streets. Where I parked my car was at least a few hundred meters away, and I didn’t favour the idea of carrying all that stuff in two trips from here - leaving expensive equipment unattended. I needed some kind of solution.
I analysed the gear, and all of a sudden, my perspective switched as if I was gazing at a 3-D cube. ‘I can carry all this in one go’! I hoisted the keyboard onto my shoulder, and gripped the keyboard stand above it. Hanging the folded up chair from my shoulder, I had one spare hand to grab my amp. I was fully loaded like a packhorse. Unfortunately, the treasure chest had to be sacrificed.
Weighed down, I trundled towards the waterfront one step after another. It was a mission and a half! I was relieved to arrive at my busking spot, right in the main plaza, offloading my gear and setting up in a flurry. Plenty of people milled about the waterfront wielding smartphones and ice-cream cones, some stopping to listen as I started playing some music. The sun beat down on me and my keyboard relentlessly, sending sweat beads rolling down my temples. After about 20 minutes, I got a few coins in my case, but I felt like I was being singed by the sun. My keyboard was hot to touch, and I was getting concerned that both myself and the electronic equipment I was relying on were being cooked. So I called it, packing away my stuff, and leaning it against the waterfront wall, parched.
About 50 meters away was another busker playing the guitar in a way I’d never seen before. I manoeuvred all the gear into the new carrying position, and plodded over to watch him perform. This man sat with his guitar lying on his lap, playing the strings as if they were piano keys, and tapping the wood as if the guitar was always meant to be a percussion instrument. A little cardboard sign rested against his feet - ‘Publio Delgado!’ He played with incredible skill and creativity, putting his whole heart into it. I was deeply intrigued and thoroughly impressed. Apparently he was immune to the scorching sun.
I sat on the grass watching him until he finished, and then voiced my appreciation for his music. He was another travelling busker - like Loca - hailing from Spain. The sun was still high, and the day was perfect as ever. So I spontaneously invited Publio Delgado for a jam out in nature. He was free, and he was keen. So we grabbed all our stuff and headed over to my car. Before we knew it, we were off to Moke Lake - a quiet lake only a half hours drive out of Queenstown. It was a great opportunity for me to have a good chat with a seasoned busker. This guy knew what he was doing - I could tell just from his name. It sounded cool. He elaborated on the times and trials of his own journey as a busker.
“Busking is not about money. It’s not about looking cool or showing off your skills. It’s about playing music for the people. Busking is an adventure..” He told me as the car bumbled along the gravel road towards Moke lake. As I contemplated the golden mountain scape all around us, and the lake glistening within it like a pearl, I realised that he couldn’t be further from the truth. We were here together because of busking.. Because of music!
We set up our instruments right by the lake side, and trickled into a beautiful jam, accompanied by occasional bird song and lakeside ambience. It was a blessed experience - playing music in nature, with such an interesting character who I had just met. I felt honoured to jam with such a unique musician. Apparently, it wasn’t the first time either. He looked up from his guitar, “you were on the keys last night, right?” he said to me. No shit.. Of course Publio Delgado was at the Thursday night jam!
(You can find Publio Delgado on Youtube here - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v04_7B4B-MU He has some brilliant content on there. Go check him out!)
Publio Delgado’s wise words were dancing like candle flame in my head. “Busking is an adventure…” The late afternoon air tasted sweet on my tongue, and it made me feel more ready to go out there and play music than ever before. I hauled the stuff from my car, stacked it onto my body, and began my march to the waterfront. The distant sky was glowing in the presence of the drowsy sun - clouds like the soft embers of a humble fire, drifting casually above Lake Wakatipu and the guarding mountains. The lake was a shield of glass, gazing dreamily at the skies above. It was a sight that made my heart smile - busking really was an adventure.
As I lumbered along the lakeside, I first passed AJ Hickling , the Original Piano busker (https://www.facebook.com/evolvingrhythms/) . His music trickled into my ears, deeply reassuring and peaceful. I looked up from underneath the straw hat that was slipping down my face - a bunch of people huddled around AJ, who sat there in blissful conversation with the horizon of lakes and mountains yawning under the sunset. AJ Hickling was the character who inspired me the most to become a busker in Queenstown. And now here I was at last, a busker myself, heading to perform my own music for the people. I carried onwards, my gear weighing heavier.
In the main stage of the waterfront was Paul and Claire, ‘Musicbychoice’ (https://www.facebook.com/Musicbychoice/). I could feel their performance before I could even see it - my shoes clapping the pavement in unison with the beat of Paul’s drumming. As I walked into their sphere of music, I could see people all around me smiling and clasping their hands, entertained. I looked over at Paul, and he nodded towards me from behind his drum kit, waving at me with one of his drum sticks before it descended onto the hi-hat. Claire was by his side with a violin and a guitar, smiling as she sent waves of magic over Paul’s beats. My keyboard felt like a sack of boulders on my shoulder - I carried on.
Underneath the row of lamps was Bramantino (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tNhQCtE-pNk) - another guitarist I met at the Thursday night jam. He stood facing a small green field dappled with people, strumming ‘Isn’t she lovely' to life, entertaining his small audience. I leaned my gear against a lamp, and sat down - patiently waiting for my turn. Waiting is a great opportunity to pull out a journal. I started writing down some thoughts, the corner of the page fluttering in the soft breeze. I reflected on the characters I had met - Loca, Publio Delgado, AJ Hickling, Paul and Claire, Bram - the fellows who had made busking a lifestyle. Entertainers; Brethren of the Queenstown waterfront… I felt like I had become a part of a very special little community in Queenstown.
It wasn’t much longer before Bram had finished, wished me luck, and went on his way. He left something behind - the small audience of people on the green. I didn’t hesitate, and was set up in a matter of a single minute. And then, closing my eyes, I sent my fingers cascading over the keys. I barely looked up, performing my original tunes with all the love of my heart, being swept away in the act of playing music for other people.
In those enchanted moments, I realised that as buskers, we are giving this place character! We are the architects of atmosphere; wizards with instruments. I had found my seat in Queenstown - feeling, knowing that I belonged here. I journeyed to Queenstown 2 years prior to study Hospitality after all, and in a way, performing my piano music to the myriad of visitors here - against the backdrop of lakes and mountains - was the finest Hospitality I could provide. In those elated moments, I hoped to create a magical experience for anybody who passed me by.
And I did.
On the 5th day of busking, I had a thought.
On the 1st day of busking, I toppled out of my car, tapping my fingers to try and counter the nerves.
They had spread throughout my whole body - I was terrified! My music wasn’t ready yet .. I needed more practice .. Sure I performed with my band SHEEP, but this was different!
I opened the boot of my car, revealing the heap of gear I had gathered to make busking as a piano player possible. It was a lot of stuff! - A full sized keyboard (battery operated), a keyboard stand, a fat black amplifier (also battery operated), my special fold-up chair, and a little treasure chest for tips. Only then, as I stared half vacantly at the stack of busking apparatus, did it dawn on me: ‘How the heck am I meant to transport all this stuff to the waterfront??’ After all the expenses and all the hassle, of course there was something I forgot to consider… I shoved the boot shut, and wandered sheepishly to the waterfront which was just around the corner. So many people were out here - criss-crossing in all directions, taking photos, slurping on ice-cream. ‘Ah stuff it’, I thought. ‘I’ll probably make a fool of myself out here anyway.’ Right then, I called it. I gave up.
As I turned to head back to my car, a group of my old classmates from Queenstown Resort College emerged out of the sweep of people. Suddenly, I had eight extra hands to help carry my car. And no more excuses.
Happy to help, my friends each grabbed a piece of equipment from the back of the Emerald Wagon, and I hoisted the keyboard up onto my shoulder. We trooped along the humming waterfront, joyous in the softening day. I forgot to notice the beauty of Queenstown - all I could feel was the nerves whisking my legs into mush. I chose a spot underneath some trees and started setting up the rig as my allies stood by. Trying to look like I knew what I was doing, I plugged in the leads, connected everything up, double checked that all the batteries were in, and opened the treasure chest. I could almost feel the stares of the strangers all around me, burning holes in my back. I sat on my chair, trying desperately to hide the panic that was pounding from within. I definitely wasn’t ready, but there was no turning back now.
And then, I played. I had been practicing a setlist of my Original Piano Tunes for the past month, and I pulled out the first one, a triumphant tune called ‘St Clair’. It was only fitting for my first busk ever - this was more or less the true birth of 'Joshua St Clair'. Before long, all my fears, all my worries, and all the absurd thoughts were hushed in the inherent peace of the piano tone, and transformed into the joy of performing for other people. I was playing the piano, out in public! Well, not a real piano, but the Casio PX-5S keyboard did the trick! Hundreds of folks from all around the world ambled past as I played my original tunes, some tossing coins into the treasure chest, others showing their appreciation with a smile. One generous man even came up and gave me a compliment: “Great to hear some original music out here, keep it up!”
I couldn’t believe it - people were actually enjoying my music. And giving me money for it! I played as the last of the daylight bathed the Remarkables in a warm orange glow, the calm evening falling upon Queenstown like a bed of feathers. The lamps perched along the pier lit up in their own time, shining down on the people strolling along. After about an hour, I had played through most of my music, and stood from my chair. A pile of coins was gleaming from my treasure chest, and I excitedly knelt down and started counting them. It added up to $75.00. This was the first time I had earned money from something I had created - it was exhilarating.
On the 2nd day of busking, I learned an invaluable lesson about music and busking from a nomad named Loca.
After finishing work, I couldn’t get to the waterfront quick enough. But when I got there, I realised that I was still faced with the same problem of transporting all my stuff to the waterfront - I couldn’t just rely on other people. My gear just looked at me from the trunk as if to say ‘well, we can’t carry ourselves…'
I carried half of the gear over to the waterfront, and noticed an interesting looking fellow sitting nonchalantly on the sidewall, his back facing the silvery-blue lake. He had thick dreadlocks dangling from his head, and eyes of a traveller who had seen many countries. By his side was a trolley with a didgeridoo and an amplifier strapped on with elastic bands. Another busker! I approached him, and asked kindly if he could watch my stuff as I went to get the rest. “Yeah for sure man!” he replied with a huge smile, delighted to help. “You’re busking here too?” he asked, glancing at the stuff I was laying against the sidewall. “Yeah I just started actually. I had my first busk ever just here yesterday,” I replied, gesturing over to the trees I sat beneath the night before. He clasped my shoulder with gusto. “Congratulations brother, welcome to the Party! I’m Loca, from South Korea.” He was cool! I wanted to stay and chat with him; hear his story. But the excitement of busking for the second time was reeling me in, and I didn’t wrestle with its gravity. A chance to make more money…
I set up under a lamp this time, my emotions contrary to that of the night before. I was confident. Too confident… After about 20 minutes of playing, I stood from my chair and gazed forlornly into my treasure chest - only a few old coins sat there, merely a quarter of which were Kiwi coins. It made me a little grumpy. Why was it not working today? People walked by, and didn’t even bother a glance. My fingers weighed heavier on the keys, the music stifled. I peered over the way, and saw Loca sitting cross legged with his didgeridoo stretched out before him, a swathe of people gathering around him in a half-ring. I kept punching away at my music, trying to startle peoples' attention. They seemed more interested in Loca - I only made $11.40 after an hour. I didn’t expect busking to be a competitive game. . .
After getting the gear back to the car with much effort, I took my handful of coins over to Perky’s, the floating bar boat, and purchased myself a beer. Sinking into my journal, I had to admit to myself that I was a novice, and I had much to learn. I was having trouble swallowing this truth, until I remembered something. It was Thursday night!
I hurried off the boat and over to Beech street, where the ’secret’ jam night was in full swing every Thursday night (RE: Nessie's Final Gift). Last time I went, it was as colourful as a bag of jellybeans - a pocket of music magic and vibes tucked within the roofs of inner Queenstown. This time? Music, magic and mayhem! Tribal mayhem…
I squeezed through the mass of people into the courtyard, and was consumed by the empowering voice of the Didgeridoo. It engulfed everything. In the heart of the jam was Loca, some legend breathing gusts of air into his Didgeridoo, hands at his sides like cobras. No shit.. Of course he would be here! I snatched the opportunity to play some keys behind his deep tones, seeing the swab of people gathered in the courtyard, spellbound. And that’s when I realised. Loca and I aren’t competitors - we are musicians!
(You can follow Loca's epic adventure on Instagram here - https://www.instagram.com/tarzanloca/)
On the 3rd day of busking, I received wise advice from a Spanish traveller named Publio Delgado.
It was a day off work - and a beautiful day too. I thought I’d try busking when the pristine blue skies praised the mighty sun. Unfortunately, however, I couldn’t park my car near the waterfront, as these were the hours when the parking wardens patrolled the streets. Where I parked my car was at least a few hundred meters away, and I didn’t favour the idea of carrying all that stuff in two trips from here - leaving expensive equipment unattended. I needed some kind of solution.
I analysed the gear, and all of a sudden, my perspective switched as if I was gazing at a 3-D cube. ‘I can carry all this in one go’! I hoisted the keyboard onto my shoulder, and gripped the keyboard stand above it. Hanging the folded up chair from my shoulder, I had one spare hand to grab my amp. I was fully loaded like a packhorse. Unfortunately, the treasure chest had to be sacrificed.
Weighed down, I trundled towards the waterfront one step after another. It was a mission and a half! I was relieved to arrive at my busking spot, right in the main plaza, offloading my gear and setting up in a flurry. Plenty of people milled about the waterfront wielding smartphones and ice-cream cones, some stopping to listen as I started playing some music. The sun beat down on me and my keyboard relentlessly, sending sweat beads rolling down my temples. After about 20 minutes, I got a few coins in my case, but I felt like I was being singed by the sun. My keyboard was hot to touch, and I was getting concerned that both myself and the electronic equipment I was relying on were being cooked. So I called it, packing away my stuff, and leaning it against the waterfront wall, parched.
About 50 meters away was another busker playing the guitar in a way I’d never seen before. I manoeuvred all the gear into the new carrying position, and plodded over to watch him perform. This man sat with his guitar lying on his lap, playing the strings as if they were piano keys, and tapping the wood as if the guitar was always meant to be a percussion instrument. A little cardboard sign rested against his feet - ‘Publio Delgado!’ He played with incredible skill and creativity, putting his whole heart into it. I was deeply intrigued and thoroughly impressed. Apparently he was immune to the scorching sun.
I sat on the grass watching him until he finished, and then voiced my appreciation for his music. He was another travelling busker - like Loca - hailing from Spain. The sun was still high, and the day was perfect as ever. So I spontaneously invited Publio Delgado for a jam out in nature. He was free, and he was keen. So we grabbed all our stuff and headed over to my car. Before we knew it, we were off to Moke Lake - a quiet lake only a half hours drive out of Queenstown. It was a great opportunity for me to have a good chat with a seasoned busker. This guy knew what he was doing - I could tell just from his name. It sounded cool. He elaborated on the times and trials of his own journey as a busker.
“Busking is not about money. It’s not about looking cool or showing off your skills. It’s about playing music for the people. Busking is an adventure..” He told me as the car bumbled along the gravel road towards Moke lake. As I contemplated the golden mountain scape all around us, and the lake glistening within it like a pearl, I realised that he couldn’t be further from the truth. We were here together because of busking.. Because of music!
We set up our instruments right by the lake side, and trickled into a beautiful jam, accompanied by occasional bird song and lakeside ambience. It was a blessed experience - playing music in nature, with such an interesting character who I had just met. I felt honoured to jam with such a unique musician. Apparently, it wasn’t the first time either. He looked up from his guitar, “you were on the keys last night, right?” he said to me. No shit.. Of course Publio Delgado was at the Thursday night jam!
(You can find Publio Delgado on Youtube here - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v04_7B4B-MU He has some brilliant content on there. Go check him out!)
On the 4th day of busking, I realised for myself what busking was really all about.
Publio Delgado’s wise words were dancing like candle flame in my head. “Busking is an adventure…” The late afternoon air tasted sweet on my tongue, and it made me feel more ready to go out there and play music than ever before. I hauled the stuff from my car, stacked it onto my body, and began my march to the waterfront. The distant sky was glowing in the presence of the drowsy sun - clouds like the soft embers of a humble fire, drifting casually above Lake Wakatipu and the guarding mountains. The lake was a shield of glass, gazing dreamily at the skies above. It was a sight that made my heart smile - busking really was an adventure.
As I lumbered along the lakeside, I first passed AJ Hickling , the Original Piano busker (https://www.facebook.com/evolvingrhythms/) . His music trickled into my ears, deeply reassuring and peaceful. I looked up from underneath the straw hat that was slipping down my face - a bunch of people huddled around AJ, who sat there in blissful conversation with the horizon of lakes and mountains yawning under the sunset. AJ Hickling was the character who inspired me the most to become a busker in Queenstown. And now here I was at last, a busker myself, heading to perform my own music for the people. I carried onwards, my gear weighing heavier.
In the main stage of the waterfront was Paul and Claire, ‘Musicbychoice’ (https://www.facebook.com/Musicbychoice/). I could feel their performance before I could even see it - my shoes clapping the pavement in unison with the beat of Paul’s drumming. As I walked into their sphere of music, I could see people all around me smiling and clasping their hands, entertained. I looked over at Paul, and he nodded towards me from behind his drum kit, waving at me with one of his drum sticks before it descended onto the hi-hat. Claire was by his side with a violin and a guitar, smiling as she sent waves of magic over Paul’s beats. My keyboard felt like a sack of boulders on my shoulder - I carried on.
Underneath the row of lamps was Bramantino (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tNhQCtE-pNk) - another guitarist I met at the Thursday night jam. He stood facing a small green field dappled with people, strumming ‘Isn’t she lovely' to life, entertaining his small audience. I leaned my gear against a lamp, and sat down - patiently waiting for my turn. Waiting is a great opportunity to pull out a journal. I started writing down some thoughts, the corner of the page fluttering in the soft breeze. I reflected on the characters I had met - Loca, Publio Delgado, AJ Hickling, Paul and Claire, Bram - the fellows who had made busking a lifestyle. Entertainers; Brethren of the Queenstown waterfront… I felt like I had become a part of a very special little community in Queenstown.
It wasn’t much longer before Bram had finished, wished me luck, and went on his way. He left something behind - the small audience of people on the green. I didn’t hesitate, and was set up in a matter of a single minute. And then, closing my eyes, I sent my fingers cascading over the keys. I barely looked up, performing my original tunes with all the love of my heart, being swept away in the act of playing music for other people.
In those enchanted moments, I realised that as buskers, we are giving this place character! We are the architects of atmosphere; wizards with instruments. I had found my seat in Queenstown - feeling, knowing that I belonged here. I journeyed to Queenstown 2 years prior to study Hospitality after all, and in a way, performing my piano music to the myriad of visitors here - against the backdrop of lakes and mountains - was the finest Hospitality I could provide. In those elated moments, I hoped to create a magical experience for anybody who passed me by.
And I did.
On the 5th day of busking, I had a thought.
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