Pascal Leclerc's Blog

February 28, 2014

Caveman seen jumping bridge in New-Zealand

I’m French but I’m based in Hong Kong. I live there since my early twenties. It’s more flexible when it comes to make some bucks. I didn’t like the idea of a 9 to 5 job that’d never change and Hong Kong allowed me to pick from all the activities I wanted to get myself involved in while avoiding feeling trapped in any of them. Being filmed while acting weird in strange costumes was part of my fun jobs.

Once, I went to New-Zealand to shoot a commercial for a bank. I was to be a caveman. Everything was very well organised. The hired team of New-Zealand helpers was so efficient, we had everything shot in just one day. People were very warm, smiling and welcoming. Life seemed simple and healthy.



They needed four actors for this commercial, two men and two ladies: Chris, a British actor, Ira, a model from Poland, Sophie, a French ballet dancer and me. We all met at the Central Airport Station in Hong Kong. Soon, Ira tried to desert us claiming she needed to fly business class but the plane was full and she ended up sitting next to me. Our conversation was interesting since she came from an ex "eastern" country. Having left Europe before the fall of the Berlin wall, I didn't know much about that region. Then I read a book about an Italian guy who rode his bike from Shanghai to Italy. I definitely want to do something similar before I'm too old.



In Auckland, we took a smaller plane to Christchurch on the Southern island. The Northern island counts about three millions people and the south counts one. 90 minutes later, we changed plane again for one with propeller and another 90 minutes later we landed in Queenstown.

A large SUV was waiting for us. Jeremaia, the driver, seemed a friendly guy. The sky was blue, the temperature was around 28 degrees and the landscape was beautiful. Jeremiah drove us to a hotel on the shore of a lake surrounded by desert mountains. My room was huge and the terrace gave upon the lake. Louis, the director of the commercial, and May, the producer, had once again made sure that we would be comfortable. I liked working with them, it was always funny and special.



After putting our bags down, we met the make-up artists, Katherine, Sarah and Jessica who began working on our face straight away. We wore masks but they needed to be blended with the rest of our face and to be air-brushed to a natural (dirty) skin colour. It took a while but the result was amazing. Some of the girls had worked for "The Lord of the Ring" movies, they knew their job well.


After a shower, we all went out for dinner in a restaurant near the lake. While we were eating tender steaks and enjoying a delicious local Pinot Noir, three paragliders flew high above our heads towards the lake. Then one guy fell from each paraglider and opened his parachute at the last second to finally land safely on the beach. This wasn't a pay show, just some guys having fun.


As soon as the sun went down, the temperature turned chilly. After all, we weren't very far from South Pole. Sometimes, clouds were like giant brushes of white paint. I didn't see penguins. There aren't many wild animals in New-Zealand but we saw horses, deers, some cows and of course lots of sheep.


Next morning I was up early, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette on my balcony, when I looked at the trees and listened to the wind in the leaves. My cigarette wasted the pure air I was breathing so I went back in the room to finish it and save nature.



We all left Queenstown and John drove us to our next hotel in Alexandra. John is a sporty 40 years old guy who's been traveling quite a lot, accompanying people in dream trips around the world. He guides them and organises everything. This year, he was going to Alaska, next year he’d be climbing the Himalayas. The local dub-reggae music by The Black Seeds he played in his car was perfect with the landscape I was watching by the windows of his Landcruiser. “No worries".

We stopped in a small cowboy city named Arrowtown and bought cool souvenirs. The lady who packed my vintage "Red Baron" soft leather helmet with opossum fur inside was French and she told me that she had left Paris two years earlier to follow her gold digging boyfriend here… pretty romantic really! Yup, those rivers near Arrowtown were still hiding gold, better make a note of it!


Soon we arrived in Alexandra, the closest spot to our shooting location. The town was small, one main road basically, but I had a good time there...


Our rooms were more like small apartments. After another quick make-up test, John suggested that we'd have a swim in a river nearby so we all piled up in his car again and soon took off our clothes on the rocky shore of a rather deep river. I was still doubtfully testing water temperature with my toes when Sophie jumped in.
Oh well, let's do it then! Aargh! I couldn’t breathe so cold it was! It took a few seconds and then it felt great.



In the evening, we went to the other side of town to have dinner outdoor and we tried the local brew before enjoying seafood soup and a huge portion of lamb. By 22:30, everybody went back to the hotel, the city was shutting down and anyway, according to schedule, we had to get up at 3:30am to start applying our make-up.



The night was short but I was excited as soon as I got up. Chris made some coffee and the big day began. After so many weeks of preparation in Hong Kong, our long trip, all these tests, finally, it was our turn to act, literally. It took about four hours to get us all ready. My mask made my eyes look deep and terrible. My nose was now bigger than the real one but I'm not sure if that was necessary. I had deep winkles on my forehead, my skin looked tanned and spotted. My moustache and beard were mixed with longer threads and a wig made my hair look longer without, unfortunately, hiding any of my very real and regrettable boldness. My arms and legs were apparently covered with mud and ashes, my toe and fingernails were almost black with dirt, my costume made of rotten skin and half ripped off fur didn't hide my hairy legs, it was perfect.


All dressed up as cave people, our prehistoric group jumped into John's car and we started our journey uphill. Soon the road let place to a track which turned quite narrow and jumpy. It looked windy outside and the fog was getting thicker. We drove for about an hour and half before we reached the top. Had we landed on the moon by any chance? Such a desolated corner of Earth! The rare patches of vegetation resumed in a bit of grass high by about an inch. But the curious, out-of-this-world things were those huge monolithic rocks, planted here and there in the landscape, like cubes. Had they fallen from space? They looked unreal!


We were going to shoot our scene near one of them. The temperature outside the car was around 2 degrees and our spot was wiped by the wind which made the thick fog move fast. When the moment came, Sophie and me covered ourselves with blankets and made a rush outside. We hid behind a big rock. The ground had been arranged by outdoor decorators and was covered with bones and skulls. The whole scene looked gloomy and cold. That was the point.

We took several shots, Sophie and me, before we ran back to the car to warm ourselves up a little. Soon we returned and finished our part which was simple: Sophie ate the mare off a bone while I groomed her hair. Suddenly she smelled something. Another guy, better built than me, stood nearby, eating a big piece of meat. Naturally Sophie immediately left me and the bone down and went to seduce him. I watched her go with sadness and disappointment and cried... my masculine ego was hurt by this painful experience but hopefully, no one would ever recognise me in Hong Kong...



And then I was done, free to remain warmly in John's car! Sophie had another scene with the better guy but then, fair enough, he dumped her too for a better girl played by Ira. By the time she finished shooting the scene with Chris, the sky had cleared up and the sun was shining on our desolated hill. There was another hill nearby, covered with snow.

Sarah suggested to drive us back down in her car to start taking off our heavy make-up. The view was now clear. My eyes had rarely been able to cover so much distance. Not a single industrial smoke, it looked completely wild. First the land was arid and dry but then the grass got gradually taller and the brushing wind made it look like fur. The rocks still looked weird. Green valleys and dark cliffs, small rivers and lakes shining in all the right places, it looks as if a painter had been in charge of creating the sights. The air was sharp and pure… but I lit up a cigarette.



Sarah parked in the courtyard of our hotel and I left the others enjoy her good care first. I had my little plan...


I felt a little frustrated that my acting part had been so short. The time and effort it had taken to get me ready felt a little disproportionate for the amount of time I had been on camera. Somehow, I needed to add something to make it worth. So I went out, next to the road and waited for a first car to come. Spotting one, I started acting caveman again, gesticulating at the drivers. It was good fun. Most people had a good laugh and kids just couldn't believe their eyes. Some looked at me with a concerned look but I made a fan who drove four times pass me, each time with a big grin up to his ears.
I couldn't stop. Sarah and Ira filmed my stunt and went back to work but I just had to continue… and then the police arrived.



They came from the opposite side of the road, made a sharp u-turn and parked on the grass next to me. Two policemen jumped out. My hands joined as if I was going to thank the sky for their arrival. I wasn't yet decided if I should act some more or stop it before it went too far. The cop on my right had a big amused smile but the one on my left was trying to keep a straight face. He said:



-"May I know what you think you're doing ? You wanna get arrested ?"



Not wanting to experience the comfort and hospitality of Alexandra's cells and deciding that the crew probably had better things to do than bail me out of jail, I said:



-"I'm just making a joke and try to amuse people a bit. Kids loved it! I've been shooting a commercial up in the mountains all day, dressed as a caveman and I'm just having a bit of fun while waiting for my make-up to be taken off."



They seemed interested that a commercial for Hong Kong was shot near their city.



-"Where do you come from?” the cop asked.



-"Hong Kong" I said. And then I could read his incredulity in his eyes so I added:

-"But I'm originated from France."

I always think that my accent makes my nationality obvious.

However that only made things more complicated. The cop on my right still smiled but the other one asked:



-"Do you have any I.D?"



-"Er... no... I ain't got no pockets..."



-"Where do you live?"



-"In room No.2 over there, I can get you my passport if you like?"



-"Ok, let's go!”



Unfortunately, someone had locked my room and I didn't have the key so I led the two policemen to the make-up room, where, a bit embarrassed I must say, I asked Sarah if she'd seen my keys. Everyone was a little surprised to see me surrounded by two cops. Then both policemen saw Ira who was still wearing her mask and seeing that there was a whole tribe of us, they bursted into laughter and told me to forget about my passport.
Finally we all took pictures together before they left.



As we all had dinner, and tequila, at the restaurant that night and seeing how sad we were to leave his country so soon, John offered us to stay for a while. He invited us to his place, just like that, no worries, he shared his house with two mates already anyway, he had spare mattresses, we just had to say.


Chris had to return to welcome his girlfriend who was joining him in Hong Kong the next day and Ira was flying to London for another shooting but Sophie and I didn't mind... I had planned to pick up my new bike the next day but a bike isn't like a girlfriend, it can wait and still treat you good. Alright then, I'll stay. Calls were made to delay our flights and that was it. What an efficient sense of hospitality!



The next morning, after a good night sleep, John took us to Cromwell, a little town which oldest district lays underwater. A dam had been built and the houses had to be deserted. A bunch of lost seagulls flew above our table as we had breakfast. Then we drove in the middle of series of valleys and hills to a green vineyard where we visited an aroma room. Series of little flacons containing different odours allowed the visitor to test his smelling skills. I was upset at the immense stupidity of my nose. Being so big and yet unable to detect anything apart of leather! Even banana left it puzzled! Yeah, yeah, I should stop smoking…


After challenging our noses, we walked to another room and tested our sense of taste. We sat at a table with six glasses of wine, each of them containing a few sips of different local productions. A video explained where they came from and we were invited to taste each of them. Pinot Noir is definitely worth a try.


Then John took us about 20 kilometres away from Queenstown to a place named Kawarau Bridge. The bridge was suspended and made of wood. It jumped between two cliffs over a river 43 meters below. It also was the first site for bungee jumping ever used.


-"Can we jump?" I asked with excitement.

-
"Of course" said John. "About half a million people have jumped from that bridge and no-one ever got hurt."



John explained that I could request to be totally immersed, or just the chest, or just the head, or nothing at all. I chose to get my head wet, it would conveniently wash my hair. John said that the best kick to get out of it was to jump head first as far as possible, as if diving in a pool. It would allow more swinging that way.



I registered for a jump and paid the fee. It included pictures and a DVD of my exploit. A T-shirt too! Let's go, let's go!


Sophie wasn’t too keen but she’d film it all with her camcorder. John accompanied me to the bridge. I sat on the ground next to the jumping platform in the middle of the bridge and my ankles were wrapped tightly with a simple bathroom towel. A cable was then tight around the towel. To double my security, an harness was attached to my waist. A helper asked how I planned to dive and that was it, I was ready for my big jump! The helper told me to smile at a camera on my left. I waved at Sophie who was filming. A few tourists got ready to shoot too. I stood right on the edge of the platform and I heard someone starts a countdown behind me.


5 4 3 2 1 Go!


I pushed as hard on my legs as I could and went head first, arms extended far in front. Was I going to fly!? I had enough space for it, it seemed. But no, almost immediately my entire body shifted and I just fell down, head first. Worst, my body shifting even further, I would have ended up landing flat on my back if it hadn't been for the cable attached to my ankles which prevented me from doing half a loop. My head entered the cold water. Then almost immediately I felt strongly pulled out of the water and rushed back into the air before falling again. That's when I got that incredible feeling of flying. I bounced once more into the air before falling one last time almost at the right spot for me to grab a long stick that was handed to me by another helper in a boat on the river. I was slowly let down into the boat and taken back to shore. Only my hair were wet. My wallet was still in my back jean's pocket and I was totally overwhelmed! I just wanted to do it again straight away! This thing should never stop!


I joined John and Sophie on the platform and people asked how it felt. What could I say? It was like falling, then like flying, it was like something I had never felt before but it was awesome, I loved every second of it… not that there were many!



They we went to a local supermarket to get ready for the evening. There was going to be a party at John’s place tonight and a memorable one! Set with beer, wine and plenty of food, we drove to his house which, very soon, filled up with his friends while our glasses were also filled up with all sorts of good things. We met Dan and Travis who shared the house with John. Then Sam and Rachel arrived in their van. We ate and drank and did it all over again for the largest part of the night.

Time to time I was going out to smoke a cigarette in the garden and that’s when I just had to call Sophie to join me.
-"Look at that!" I said pointing to the sky, "look at all those stars! We never see any in Hong Kong polluted sky!"

Dan explained that what we saw was the Milky Way and he taught us how to recognise the Chariot and the Cross and therefore where was north. We’d never get lost again, except in Hong Kong...


The last thing I remember of that night was the wall clock showing 4:00a.m but everyone woke up at 9:00a.m! Healthy folks! John drove us to a little lake lost in the green fields and everybody proceeded to jump in the water except me. I only jumped in cold water with ropes attached to my ankles!



We spent the afternoon in Queenstown, laying on the grass in a public park. It was national day and no-one worked. Large loud speakers played reggae and we did what everyone else did, we enjoyed the sun and the pleasure of being alive.



We left the next day. John took us to the airport. We still felt that it was too early to leave such a beautiful country but we’d be back one day. After a last bit of shopping at the airport - we couldn’t leave without a t-shirt of “The Blacks” - we took our flight back to Hong Kong where we landed, at 6:00am, in the cold. The city was quiet and sleepy in this early morning of Chinese New Year. We were entering the Year of the Rat. That was my Chinese astrological sign and so far I had to admit, it looked like a fun year!
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Published on February 28, 2014 10:16 Tags: new-zealand

January 1, 2014

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

- Christmas in Paris -

I had forgotten how cold winter really is in France. I don't return there very often but I usually choose summertime. I'll try to remember next time, maybe I would enjoy more than a couple of days wandering in snowy Paris. I'm no particular fan of French TV but having to watch it in bed for eight days in a row because of fever and flu wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I accepted to take my daughters along to my parents to celebrate a three generations Xmas reunion.

Family gatherings! I guess there're some in every country. Well in France, apart from weddings and funerals, there's Xmas. That's when the whole family let the frog legs run away and devour dozens of live oysters instead. All the gooses of France are by then liverless and everyone's ready for next day traditional "crise de foie" due to large excesses of calories. Don't ask me, it's tradition! Some make you burn entire hills, some others make you paint your neighbours and friends in sharp colours and some command that you stuff yourself sick with diverse bunch of tortured life forms... I'm no vegetarian and I can't argue with such quality of wine but still...

I didn't get sick from food. When you're trapped between two generations at the dinner table, you tend to skip dessert and check if it's really cold outside. That's where I got sick but before any throat ache and running noses, I got homesick because of the cold. 25 years I hadn't breathed such a freezing dry air, it just made me jump back in time! I had never mellowed out like that about my homeplace but believe me, once it starts, everything's an excuse for more! A customer pushes the door of a bar as you walk pass and the smell of coffee is enough to make you sleep walk three "stations de métro" dreaming about the days you were playing pinball and smoking your first "Gauloise". I was getting homesick at home! People looked weird at me as I stood a long time in front of a rusted mopped like the one I had at sixteen. I took a picture of it, you wanna see ?!

Naturally, when you start having these feelings, you begin wondering if you shouldn't, somehow, plan to come back. Parents are getting old, kids should study at Paris university, oysters are much cheaper, sandwiches are much longer, all sorts of excuses. Then you start looking around thinking, hey, what if I was living in that building? There's noone in the street and it's 3:30 in the afternoon, we're ten minutes away from Montmartre, wouldn't that be a cool flat to rent? How much they rent flats in here anyway? Bah, can't be worst than Hong Kong can it ? There's more room space and look at these balconies !

Behind the windshield of a police car parked along the sidewalk, there's a dirty wet teddy bear with a red knot around his neck. Just to see his reaction, I say "Merry Xmas" to the guard at the entrance of the police station. He looks at me suspiciously and surprised. He says nothing, just to be safe. On the window of the neighbouring bar, the waitress has laboriously tried to draw a christmas tree, or perhaps it was a client.. at closing time. A few steps away, there's a tent in the middle of the path and there's a drunk guy in it. There's another one snoring in a sleeping bag on the bench.

I reach a small square that smells Paris all over it, there's an old style Merry-go-round with spinning wooden horses and firemen trucks that need a good repainting and the trailer next to it adds to the flavor of the air as the owner is presently frying some "merguez" despite the absence of any customers. He must have sense me coming, I'm starved for "merguez", doesn't matter how many oysters I had for lunch! As I approach the "bar", I notice a group of homeless looking guys standing near the trailer, smoking and drinking beer. They're wearing thick layers of clothes probably given by some charity but they still look frozen cold. I order my merguez and watch the merry-go-round. A young couple stands in front of it while their post-toddler daughter sits on a side-car, a big grin on her baby face. She must have learned her first steps only a few weeks ago. The trailer man watches her too as he waits for the merguez to be ready. I feel safe about it, they won't be burned for that man respects traditions too. Hooked to the top of the merry-go-round, there's another little teddy bear with a red knot tied around his neck that hangs to a tiny rope. What is it with teddy bears today ? How come that wasn't mentioned in my horoscope this morning ? Perhaps something like: now is a good time for trading honey or today you will meet an old bed companion as it is being hanged by the neck ? Anyway the other end of the rope is now wrapped around the index finger of the merguez chef who lets the teddy slide down as the toddler spins by. Encouraged by the excitment of her parents, she tries to get up and catch the teddy. But it shakes and her legs are still fragile so she falls back on her sit, a bit scared. I take a look at her folks, they're smiling but they look a bit embarrassed... oh come on, she's only a baby, can't expect her to join "Le Cirque du Soleil" yet !

The toddler teaser is now busy spreading butter on my slice of baguette so I turn to the other side and take a look at the square behind. The homeless guys are still standing there, their unshaved beards makes them look even more greyish and pale, they're not saying much, not watching anyone, they just stand there, in a circle, maybe it makes them feel warmer to hold a place somewhere, even just in that circle. I can't tell how old any of them are but there's obviously no Christmas in them nor for them, they're like on standby, on hold, they're stuck in a virtual waiting hall, a sort of urban twilight zone, holding their breath forever.

Say ! Here comes Santa Claus ! He looks so good, so sharp, so clean in comparaison ! A true social contrast on his own ! His beard, immaculate and fake, brightens his face and the golden frame of his pair of glasses. His red costume is obviously new and his boots, made of real leather, would be such a splendid present for a biker like me... This Santa is as fat as the real one, not much younger, he's tanned and healthy, a perfect replica of the image popular tradition holds of the old man, a bourgeois Santa, that is, who's easely recognisable colours, for some reason, match perfectly with some widespread soda...Santa was obviously attracted by the merry-go-round. He probably felt garantied to meet little children there with whom to play his act. He's so into it, he hurries just in case another colleague would get there first, he just rushes pass the group of homeless men without noticing any of them. They don't either.Santa's face brightens up even more, he smiles, here's a little girl under her a woolen hood and matching scarf, holding the hand of her blond permed mom, the perfect match for such a good looking "Père Noël". "Joyeux Noël !" he says, "Ho ho ho!". The play's on...

My merguez sandwich is finally ready. "Sorry Monsieur, I had you waiting..." No worries, I'm not in a hurry, it's just a "gourmandise". I pay the man and turn back. Santa is still acting cute while the little girl and her mom are playing good polite girls. The homeless guys are still emptying their bottles, their cigarettes, their day, their terms of life.I'm about to leave and continue my walk when I spot some odd movements coming towards the square. Another homeless looking guy is trying to cross the street. He's probably trying to join his mates but he's in a much worst shape. He must have been hit by a car or had some sort of accident, perhaps he's got polio when he was a kid, anyway, it looks like he's in a great pain just trying to walk, swinging his whole body from right to left, using only the side of his right foot and a cane. Despite many layers of dirty clothes, he looks incredibly skinny and ill. His lips hold a cigarette but his cheeks are so hollow that the smoke gets trapped in his beard before flying away free. His cheekbones are redish due to the cold but his eyes are in fire. They stopped me right there ! What's with this guy, why is he in such a hurry although obviously, walking isn't really his stuff. Is one of the other guys owing him money ? Has he got some sort of terrific news to tell them ? He looks so excited, there's got to be something going on.

After much efforts and swings, the man finally reached the square. But I was wrong, he had nothing to do with the group I thought he'd join. They didn't pay attention to him either. I should have known, the light in his eyes made all the difference.No, he just stood there, not very far from them, ignoring them, ignoring me, ignoring everybody except Santa. He was looking at him with an almost religious intensity, he didn't dare to approach any further but his whole tortured body was aimed at him. Santa was still busy reciting good words for the well-educated little girl and with his back turned, he had not even seen him yet. So, regardless how impatient he was, he just waited there, a few meters away, respectfully, with fervour in his eyes. Was he expecting something from Santa, money perhaps ? Was he going to beg him ? It really didn't look that way. It looked more like some scene of adoration and I suddenly felt very very cold inside. I knew what he wanted.

Santa had finally reached the end of his play and was kissing the little girl's cheeks, still oblivious to the presence of his homeless fan. He wasn't even going to turn back, he was leaving and he was fast, the guy with the bad leg wouldn't be able to catch him up ! I looked at him and I saw the disappointment in his eyes. Not just your natural short-lived disappointment, a much worst one, one that had mixed feelings in it, sadness, pain, disgust, anger, unfairness, solitude, bitterness and loss. He was defeated, once more. His reaction resumed in raising his free arm half way and I'm the one who turned to Santa and shouted "Hey !"

That's all it took. Santa turned his face towards me, I turned my eyes towards the guy and he finally saw him. He had a light jump of hesitation and looked at me again. Yes, that guy looks very bad but his fervour had come back entirely, all the bad feelings were gone and wiped away and he, again, looked at Santa with an evident adoration, trying to walk towards him as fast as he could. And that's when I saw the magic of Christmas unfold before me. The bourgeois Santa melted and went away with that little girl and her mother and the real one appeared in front of my eyes. Almost with a kick, he quickly walked towards the disabled man, stopping him from suffering at every step and he simply offered his hand to shake while saying "Joyeux Noël!". And it was enough because the homeless guy didn't seem so homeless, so disabled and so hopeless all of a sudden. Something has straightened his back, reaffirmed his look and I heard the voice of a man with a soul, strong and soft at the same time, saying "Merci Père Noël. Joyeux Noël à vous aussi!".

Merry Christmas to you!

Pascal Leclerc
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Published on January 01, 2014 10:52 Tags: christmas