The Day The Earth Farted
For many people for many years, the history of New Zealand officially began in 1642 with Dutch explorer Abel Tasman. He crossed the Indian Ocean, sighted and named Van Diemen’s Land (later Tasmania), completely failed to notice the world’s largest island (later Australia), and came upon the west coast of New Zealand´s South Island. Again his powers of observation and those of his crew – assuming he had one – come into question. He attempted a landing but was chased away by a group of angry Maori, it being their tradition to challenge all newcomers. Moving north and charting the coast line – the map of which looks alot like a piece of unfinished homework – Tasman failed to notice that he was looking at two islands not one and failing to find another safe point to land, headed for home and presumably logged his findings with a crazy old witch that no one listened to – which was the tradition at the time. All criticism aside, Tasman got some credit and had an island named after him. He is further immortalised by the Tasman Sea, Tasman Bay and a sad looking hotel in downtown Wellington. Although Moari inhabited New Zealand for centuries before Abel’s shenanigans, their history was passed down orally and can’t serve as a reliable record of events. There was one documented event that preceded both Moari and European arrival to New Zealand. In or around the year 185 AD, two seperate Roman historians write about a day when the heavens turned red and stars appeared to tear across the sky. A Chinese historian notes similar phenomena around the same time. Brainy scientists with no girlfriends to distract them claim a massive volcanic explosion on the North Island was the cause. The resulting hole in the ground became one of NZ’s largest lakes, Taupo. I remember being impressed once when I heard a U2 concert from 4 miles away. This thing was heard in Rome and in China – and they saw it! The guys down at the lab say it was the largest event of it’s kind in the last 5000 years – 10 times as powerful as Mount Krakatoa´s hissy fit in the 19th century and at least a billion times as powerful as the flame-throwers in Quake and Doom. Oddly, despite the overlapping historical accounts and all the know-how modern volcanology can throw at the question, no one can agree on the exact year. They do know the month – March – because of the berries fossilised on the day.
The Earth had farted.
What we have today are two lake -side towns, Taupo and Rotorua where large doses of adrenalin and sulphur are part of everyday life. Lake Rotorua and the town of the same name harbor vivid reminders of the Earth´s big fart. It is an area of intense geothermal activity and so the air is thick with the smell sulphur and other delights. Getting off the bus one is instantly reminded of the years spent sharing a bedroom with an older brother or the minutes sharing a car, which can seem like years. The instinctive reaction to the pong is to duck, weave or jump a few feet away to avoid the smell. This is a waste of time as the relentless pong is all around you and like it or not, if you plan on spending time in Rotorua, you have to breath deeply and get used to it. The term ´suck it up´ seems very apt. Our perseverence was amply rewarded with the huge selection of things to do. The obvious and unmissable hot spas are a great option for the super lazy. I´m not sure what the physical benefits are of sitting around and heating up your body to near unconciousness but we enjoyed it all the same. I couldn´t help thinking that it was as harmless and as beneficial as those shaky belt machines that they had in gyms 50 years ago. For the more active Rotorua has plenty of adventurous and downright insane activities to take your mind off the smell. Ger and I had a few goes at louging – that´s pronounced like “losing” if you´re Sean Connery. It´s sort of like tobogganing with a wider track and instead of a big cigar tube you get to ride in a 6 year-old´s go kart. The Noddy effect of having such a tiny vehicle and flying down steep hills makes it feel alot more dangerous than it probably is. Well I didn´t break anything. Zorbing is another ´sport´ that could only have become popular in a country with far too many hills. Basically you get inside a rubber ball and get pushed down a big hill. You have the option of being joined by another person, buckets of water or of being tethered or untethered to the inside of your Zorb. The inventors of the Zorb are currently being sued for copyright infringement by General Zorb of the Galactic Overlord Alliance.
One thing we didn´t get to check out in Rotorua was the intriguingly named Agro-Dome. My expectations of a post-apocolyptic melting pot of violence and agression were a little misguided. The prominent picture of a sheep on their website made me realize that by “Agro” they mean Agriculture. To people who are that way inclined, Agro-Dome has New Zealand´s best sheep shows. Here burly roughnecks shear and generally rough up sheep in rapid succession. It´s a great stag weekend alternative to peep shows and if you like ém shaved, this is the place for you. I thoroughly suggest a look at this portion of their website; http://www.agrodome.co.nz/SheepShow.htm . The photos are open to interpretation. Keeping with the theme of agriculture you can spend your time at Agro-Dome jet boating, bungy jumping, zorbing or at Freefall Xtreme. That´s where you hover over a massive fan for a while to simulate falling from the sky – but beware, I hear it´s Xtreme. These and many other wacky pass times that were once the exclusive province of the farming community are open to you at Agro-Dome.
Another attraction with which Rotorua is synonomous is the Hangi. This is a great way to experience Maori culture up close. For a reasonable price a local tribe, in our case the highly recommended Mitai, welcomes you onto their land and puts on a show that encompasses traditional dance, music, singing and best of all weapons. The hosts go into incredible detail about their philosophy and mythology and you can´t help being impressed by what you learn. I for one was impressed to find out that their distinctive facial tatoos are done using special chisels. You´ve got to respect that level of hardness. After all of this you are invited to partake in the hangi proper. The word, I´m told, translates as “feed” but must mean “way too much food” since our group of 50 or 60 barely made a dent. The whole thing with the exception of the beer and deserts gets cooked by hot embers in a hole in the ground. Don´t be discouraged by this. Liberal use of tin-foil keeps the whole lot clean and tasty. We walked away full of respect and potatoes.
The town of Taupo is home to New Zealands cheapest – and therefore best – sky diving. Ads for tandem jumps crowd every notice board and window ledge as well as ones for hiking up mountains, jet boating and being fired out of a cannon by monkies or your ex-girlfriend. Okay, so they don´t fire you out of a cannon but someone´s probably developing the idea right now. Probably an angry girlfriend or someone with a background in agriculture or monkies. Ger and I arrived the day before Taupo´s annual mini-marathon so accommodation was a little scarce. We found some dorm beds after a short search. As you would expect the hostel lounge was full of middle-aged women chatting over bottles of gin. I assumed this was to prepare for the next day when they would run then jog then walk then quit the marathon. Quitting, unfortunately, was not confined to marathons that day. Our hike along the Tongariro Crossing, dubbed the best one day hike in New Zealand, had to be abandoned after only an hour. Our guide could see a nasty weather front descending – guide code for I´m hungover – and didn´t want to risk it. Despite this let down I had a great time visiting Taupo and Rotorua and would recommend it to anyone with an open mind and good insurance. It´s definitely worth braving the fart smell and imposing sheep billboards and it´s nothing if not distinctive.
Tags: Travel
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