And there was understanding of what people do to maintain the safety of their worlds. There was laughter вЂ“ plenty of it (the dog deserves special mention). Four actors played eight characters, children and adults, in an apparently simple story of childhood nostalgia that slowly became coloured with adult knowledge. Instead of a slick set with double (!) rotating stage, hidden trapdoors and a bank of LED screens, this classic NZ play was performed on a set constructed from sheets and astroturf, with four chairs and two telephones the only props. Peninsula, the first time this play by Gary Henderson has been performed in the North Island, was a contrast to Beautiful Burnout in terms of technology. I love it when that happens вЂ“ when a piece is so enthralling that it catches you even when youвЂ™re watching for it. It wasnвЂ™t that though that eventually moved me to tears, but the beauty of the script that slowly, devastatingly, crept up on me. IвЂ™m no boxing aficionado, but the movement of the actors вЂ“ choreographed to spilt second timing вЂ“ had me mesmerized. It succeeded (mostly) in the difficult task of turning the bland space of the TSB Bank Arena into a sweaty, atmospheric boxing ring вЂ“ although the clanking from the roof through the performance was a bit distracting. At the end I looked around and realized that many people were crying, and a group rose to their feet to salute the actors in a spontaneous and impassioned haka.Д«eautiful Burnout, an import from Scotland, welcomed me the next night. The movement in this play is what made it so compelling. But when the play began I was moved by the power of voices and bodies. I admit to being moved initially by jealousy when I saw the set (a timber wharf spanning the room) and the lush lighting. Hone KoukaвЂ™s anticipated new play, inspired by Patricia GraceвЂ™s novel, was aptly housed in the body of the Pipitea Marae meeting house. The premiere of Tu was an entirely different experience. It was a lovely return to the magic of circus and storytelling, in a world where shows like Cirque du Soleil have left us expecting more and more spectacle without, perhaps, so much substance. Part theatre, part comedy, part philosophy and 100% circus, I left pondering the fragility, beauty and humanity of the вЂcharactersвЂ™ IвЂ™d seen. After an interval, we swapped sides to find out what the others had experienced вЂ“ but of course, it would have been too predictable if the two halves of the show were exactly the same. Curiosity was piqued as first one side roared with laughter, then the other. Separated by a thin curtain, we occasionally caught glimpses of the other half as the showвЂ™s curtain was parted for performers to pass through. The audience is split in two on arrival, one half sits on the вЂshowвЂ™ side of the ring, the other half вЂbackstageвЂ™. ItвЂ™s a show which quite literally deconstructs the circus. And that was before the show even started.Д¬ircenses was that show and the anticipation was well deserved. Standing outside a circus tent on soggy grass, sharing a flimsy umbrella with my friend, I felt buzzed from all the excitement around me.

Despite the dire вЂweather bombвЂ™ warnings, the venues were busy, the crowds undampened in their enthusiasm. I saw six shows in total, three from NZ and three international. Being a cultural tourist in the capital is always fun, though of course I wish I had had longer than six days to take it all in. That might sum up my week in Wellington at the NZ International Arts Festival.

Veni, vidi, sensi вЂ“ I came, I saw, I felt.

Veni vidi sensi