He keyed in some music on the laptop and began singing and suddenly it felt like I was in a small club back in the 60s, not shivering in my shoes standing outside a train station. His voice was strong and his range was exquisite. Someone, I thought, should shoot a video of this guy.
Earlier today I was walking on Cuba Street looking for, among other things, an All Blacks sweatshirt and a cup of strong coffee to ward off an early afternoon breeze that had a few sharp teeth in it, when I heard him again. I looked around, following the sound of his voice, until I found him sitting outside a store singing old standards. This time I hauled out my camera and shot some video of him, though I confess that I'm just not very good when it comes to video. Still, I hope that despite the poor quality of the video - and the background noise - you can get some idea of how rich his voice is.
A little farther down the street there was a young man who really thought he was a juggler.
He was not good at juggling; not at all. He kept dropping the large, white, bowling-pin-shaped things he was trying to keep in the air. Each time one or two of them hit the pavement with a crash he sighed, bent, picked it (or them) up and tried again. As I watched I saw that he'd manage to keep all three in the air for only a few seconds at a time before one or two of them would bounce off the pavement again. It was a little painful to watch but I kind of admired his persistence even though I was convinced that he was going to (a) hurt himself, (b) hurt some passer-by, or (c) break a store window.
The fact that he wasn't very good didn't stop people from dropping coins into the hat he had placed near his feet, however. Either New Zealanders appreciate a good effort or they felt sorry for the guy or, just maybe, they thought he was being bad on purpose.
Whatever, he probably made $20 while I was wandering up and down Cuba Street.
I never did find the sweatshirt but I did get a really good cup of coffee.
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