There’s such a lot of world to see

A couple of months ago, I’d got an email from my friend Lisa, letting me know she was planning to be in New Zealand at the same time I was. This was outstandingly good news. Lisa and I met when we did our TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) course, we clicked immediately, and only afterwards discovered that we more or less worked at the same place (in the same building anyway, and for related employers), and were both there by stealth, planning to leave soon but not having told our employer yet. Cue lots of lovely ‘secret squirrel’ emails and after-work emergency powwows when we were on the verge of handing in our notice and leaving. Lisa subsequently escaped to Spain, and I came off to see the world. Family events took Leese back to the UK, but her and her brother decided before long to come off and see what New Zealand had to offer.

I was on the Cook Islands when they got here, but by the time I’d got back, Leese had got herself a job managing a backpackers’ hostel in Taupo. I’d always planned to go there anyway; now it seemed the perfect way to round off my New Zealand time. I was desperately in need of an old friend, after my news about Fr Xavier, so the timing couldn’t have been better.

And it was wonderful! We had a great big hug when we saw each other, and I got to meet Lisa’s brother, Ki, as well. They were both working that afternoon so I settled down to a busy time of watching DVDs and reading. Oh, it’s a hard life. That evening, I had dinner with them and we began the long-awaited catch up, starting a non-stop conversation that would last four days!

Lisa had the next couple of days off, and we had a lovely old time, going for (gentle!) walks and exploring the area, good for both of us – me to get to see the place, and Leese so she can recommend things for the people staying at the hostel. We also both got to wear rather fetching raincoats, as it was raining, and took some lovely photos, in which we both look rather spesh.

The first afternoon, I was completely amazed that Ki had built himself a bedroom in part of the living room in just a day, and was more than happy to earn my keep and help paint the walls. All those many, many, MANY coats that my bathroom took (Sarah – once again I salute you for your help!) were good practice.

We spent more hours wandering through town, in the art gallery, and up at the gorgeous botanical gardens (I’d recommend these for sure for anyone visiting Taupo) – Spring was a lovely time of year to visit these as all the blooms were at their finest. One night, as a thankyou to them for their fabulous hospitality, I cooked them a roast chicken dinner (my first in a good while), they ate it all and nobody died so hopefully it was ok!

One of the reasons for coming to Taupo was that I’d intended to do a skydive. It’s the cheapest there in all of New Zealand. The first couple of days, though, it was impossible due to the bad weather. On my third day, though, it was a beautifully sunny day. I woke up, thought about doing a skydive, and just felt sick. I don’t know why. Maybe I’d had too much time to think about it? I’d always intended to do one in New Zealand, and now, when I could, I dídn’t want to. I wasn’t prepared to spend that much money on something I didn’t 100% want to do (especially something that I can do back at home, should the mood strike me). Reading that back, I sound like I’m trying to justify my decision, and to be honest, I’m still a bit mystified by it now, but, hey ho. Onwards and upwards.

And so the time came for me to leave New Zealand, and head on to my final continent, and another challenge. So, after a fond farewell to Leese (in which she managed to wreck a car… but that’s another story!), I was heading for Auckland to the airport. South America was waiting.

Rotorua is famous for a few things throughout New Zealand.  It has one of the highest concentrated Maori populations, and so is a good place to find out some more about Maori history, culture and traditions; it has lots and lots of thermal pools and geysers; and it is the home of zorbing.

As I´ve mentioned on an earlier blog, one of the things Andy and I did before we went our separate ways was to give each other loads of information about what was not to be missed.  According to Mr Jones, zorbing fell firmly into that category.  To quote him, “Go ZORBING – best fun you´ll have, and go wet!”  To those of you now sitting reading this with knitted brows, I shall explain.  Somehow, a landowner in New Zealand figured that if you get two large rubber balls, put one inside the other, fill the gap between the two with air, you could get foolish innocent tourists vistors to get inside the middle ball, have a couple of buckets of (thankfully warm) water chucked in there with them, and push the ball down a hill, like a gigantic hamster wheel. 

Yep, this is Andy´s idea of fun.  No matter how many times I tried to explain that my idea of ´fun´usually contained at least one of the following elements: wine, shoes, chocolate, shopping (or, in an ideal world, all of the above), he was pretty insistent I try it.  Any one who either knows me or has read even a tiny portion of this blog will know as well how very, very easy I find it to injure myself, and I was convinced I would hobble away with a broken ankle or something, but hey, even I´d find it hard to injure myself zipped into a big rubber ball, right?

So, on my first full morning in Rotorua, I went along to the zorbing site, on a kind of extreme adventure park on the outskirts of town.  I´d gone along there with one of my dorm mates, a lovely lass from Inverness, Debbie, who, in a moment of madness, had bought a ticket for bungee jumping and some kind of turbo jet as well.  These I shied away from, as I was getting nervous enough just about the zorbing.  And watching Debbie´s bungee swoop thing at such a close range convinced me that I was never, EVER going to do one.

One of the things that amused me most before I came away was how many people said to me “gosh, you´re so brave”.  Well, let this be a lesson to you all; I am the most cowardly person on the face of the earth!  Even cowards can leave home.

So, time for the zorb.  We all got in a jeep and were clanged up a hill, literally holding on for dear life.  After one couple, I was next up.  Apparently, the best way to get into the zorb is to dive through the hole.  Not the most flattering way though, especially not when you get your feet stuck outside.  I had to stand up to get the zorb started down the hill, but after that, there was no chance of staying upright.  There was no chance of staying ANY way up – you literally slip your way downhill, completely disorientated.  I started to feel a bit pukey as I couldn´t tell which way was up (once more my legendary motion seasickness is a joy), and it felt much, much longer than it actually is – a couple of minutes at the most.  I had two goes, and I got a t-shirt.  And… yes, you´ve guessed it, I managed to injure myself.  Not seriously, but I cut my finger, it got caught in the zip.  So I was doing my “I told you so” dance in Andy´s direction.

The best fun I´ve ever had?  Erm, probably not.  For shame, I imagine that sentence for me, if answered honestly, would end in the words “Jimmy Choos”.  But, if you´re in the area and fancy seeing how it feels to be a giant, wet, upside down hamster, yeah, give it a go!

 

The afternoon was far more my kind of thing, and one I´d definitely describe as ´fun´.  Debbie and I headed on down to the thermal pools.  Overlooking Lake Rotorua, the spas and pools are the culprits of the famously sulphuric and eggy-smelling air in Rotorua.  Once you get over this, though, it´s a good way to spend an afternoon.  There are four public pools in all, the first one is the size of a swimming pool and is lovely and warm.  The other three, open air, are smaller and get progressively hotter and hotter.  Despite the chilly air outside, we could only stay in the last one (about 41 degrees) for a few minutes at a time.  Getting out, we got an inappropriate fit of the giggles when we walked into the changing room and were met with the lovely sight of about 50 Chinese women, completely starkers.  Of all ages.  Believe me, nobody needs to see that.  We were evah so British and snuck into the loos to get changed.

The next morning was a supremely early start, even by my standards.  I was getting up at 4am to watch England play the All Blacks back at Twickenham.  To my amazement, Debbie agreed to come with me, despite being both Scottish and not a real rugby fan.  It was actually quite a fun thing to do, huddled at that time in the morning with other rugby fans (to my dismay, though, most seemed to be Kiwis, not at all fun when we lost).  And no, I couldn´t get back to sleep later.

Instead, that afternoon we walked out to a thermal geyser park.  I´m never sure how to pronounce geyser – is it gee-zer or gay-ser (or something else? guy-ser?)  The earth´s crust is at its thinnest here, and it´s amazing to feel how warm the earth beneath your feet gets.  So we sat for a while (quite a long while, actually, we were beginning to get bored) and waited for the world´s most reliable geyser.  It was, admittedly, impressive, and quite scary to feel the earth rumble and feel the power of Mother Nature at first hand.  We also saw kiwis there in a special enclosure (up till then I´d not seen any; either they were a myth, or very shy, like the haggis).  They were huge!  I thought they´d be, well, bird-sized, but they were like big ducks.  And before you say it yes, I know that ducks are birds as well.  Hmmm… maybe they were big ducks in kiwi suits.

Our final ´to do´in Rotorua was to go to a Maori night.  We did this on our last night there (after not much sleep).  I made the fatal mistake of having a power nap in the afternoon, which just made me grouchy and snarly.  The Maori night would have to be pretty special to wake me up.  And it was actually really good fun.  Touristy, yes, cheesy, yes, but still, nothing wrong with that in moderation.  It started off with showing us how they´d cook our food, then we all traipsed off through the woods to see the show of traditional Maori skills, songs and dances, which were very slick and professionally done.  Then the food… mmmmm…. good, and lots of it.  We stuffed ourselves silly.  Finally, a walk through the woods to spot glowworms which was, to be honest, a bit dull, so Debbie and I entertained ourselves with amusing photos

Back to the hostel, ready for an early start the next day… my last stop in New Zealand, and one where I´d meet yet another lovely friendly face.

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