Rotten eggs. That's all I've smelt for the past couple of days. It's pervasive and infiltrates one's nostrils from every drain and park in Rotorua. I don't know how people can live here - maybe they just get used to it. Maybe they even grow to love it. Perhaps when they go away they take bottled sulphurous water with them to remind them of the sweet smell of home. Who knows?

Apart from the stench, Rotorua (pronounced with rolled 'r's) is a town of around 70,000 next to a large lake in the middle of an active thermal region. I checked in to a fancy new hostel that had been recommended to me and still smelled of paint (it's all about the smells here). Everything was shiny and clean, although in some cases it was a bit too flash for its own good: the lights in the bathroom were on a timer triggered by a movement sensor and went off twice when I was in the shower, forcing me to stand dripping under the detector in the dark, waving my arms in the air.

I had a walk around Kairua Park and dipped my feet in a thermal pool, then walked around the other hot springs in the area. I mooched along the waterfront and resentfully paid the entry fee for the museum. It was housed in the old bath house and there were some interesting exhibitions and a cheesy short film (complete with shaking seats) about a volcanic eruption that occurred in the 1800s and obliterated a village and the famously beautiful Pink and White Terraces.

I met up with Rachel and Helen, whose birthday it was, and we went out for a few drinks and some breakdancing with the Chicken Man! Mike and I went Zorbing the next day, where you dive into a water-filled inflatable ball and hurtle down a hill. You emerge at the end, laughing hysterically and freezing cold. I wish I had my own personal Zorb that I could roll around the streets in like a giant hamster. We all took a cable car up a mountain overlooking the lake and town, and had a couple of rides on the luge. I was always the last one back as I go at granny speed, slowing for all the corners and braking down hills.

We drove out to the excitingly named "Thermal Wonderland," which was somewhat less thrilling than we had anticipated (they really raise your expectations by calling it that) but we got to see the Lady Knox Geyser erupt (after an employee put some soap in it) and a lot of thermal pools. Rachel acted as guide, reading out the brochure, and we all knew far more than we probably ever wanted to about fumeroles and the like. I had a burning desire to see some hot bubbling mud, and my wish was fulfilled at the mud pools, which popped and gurgled in a really satisfying way. We tried to go to Kerosene Creek where you can go in a natural hot pool for free (they make you pay for everything else in this place) but couldn't find it and were given duff directions, so we ended up at a paying spa back in Rotorua. It was nice to laze in the hot (but suspisciously murky) water overlooking the lake and mountains and I felt very relaxed and soft when I emerged. Despite the shower, I can still smell rotten eggs though.