BootsnAll Travel Network



Paihia and the Pickled Parrot

I woke up before my alarm and got ready, not feeling too bad.  I left the hostel an hour and 15 minutes before my bus was supposed to leave, but I had about a 20 minute walk ahead of me and I like being early.  I got to the bus stop and was hoping that I would get to do some swimming and sunbathing in Paihia, a tourist town north of Auckland that’s the diving board for the Bay of Islands when I remembered that I left my bathing suit at the hostel-hanging in the laundry room!  I checked my iPod (my only clock) and decided to attempt to run back and get it.  I don’t think running would have been possible with a 30 pound bag on my back on these steep hilly streets, but I did make it to the hostel and back with ten minutes to spare.  Phew!

The bus ride was about five hours long, through pretty scenery of  green rolling hills and extinct volcanoes all covered in cows.  I thought that New Zealand was the sheep capitol of the world?!?!  But cows are cute, so I wasn’t too disappointed.  The sun was shining when we pulled up in Paihia and the walk to my hostel was along the beach, so my first thought was to come back as soon as I got situated in my dorm.  I walked up to what’s probably the most out of the way hostel in Paihia and fell in love.  It’s a smallish hostel with probably about 40 beds.  The dorms and common area enclose a very plant-y courtyard.  I walked to the end of the courtyard to reception and started talking to the owner when I heard a very loud “meow” behind me.  I looked, not believing that a cat could meow that loud, and could only find a parrot.  Rocky, the bird the place is named after, meows and makes camera clicking noises!  Crazy!

I went down to the beach and just layed (or is it lied?) there, soaking up the sun and loving my life.  There were a few tiny islands in the bay, and boats dotted the horizon past the other port town across the way. 

The next day I found myself sitting in the courtyard with a few other inhabitants of the hostel.  We were all solo travelers and created a group instantly.  Anders, a navy officer from Denmark was going to some sulfur baths a half hour away by car and wanted to know if anyone would join him.  Robyn from England looked at me while he wasn’t looking and said “I’ll go if you go”.  So we changed into our suits and headed out.  Not long after we got out of the carpark he mentioned that he was once married, but he’d just ‘buried her’-in a joking way.  Robin and I looked at eachother as if asking “What have we gotten into?” and he explained about his divorce, while not getting into messy details.  He ended up being a really funny guy. 

After driving awhile, wondering if we were ever going to find the place (Anders had drawn a half-assed map from the actual map at the hostel) we stumbled across it.  We parked the car and obeyed the sign that read “Pay at house first”.  A woman came out and we gave her $5 to spend in these pools as long as we wanted.  The sulfur pools were in a fenced in yard across the way from the house.  There was an eggy smell in the air, which could only be from the sulfur pools that we were about to immerse ourselves into.  These “pools” were like hot tubs dug into the ground, each bordered by slabs of wood you could rest your head on.  Each pool was a different temperature from the next, and being a fan of hot tubs, I instantly entered the hottest one.  The steps going in were made of the same wood bordering the pools and were slippery.  The floor of the pools was natural, a kind of black sandy mud that you could rub all over your skin.  Even though it stunk, it felt so good.  Anders got a headache so he went to take a nap in the car while Robyn and I hopped from pool to pool, checking out the temperatures.  I couldn’t stay very long in the hottest one.  What the coolest part about these pools was that it’s not really a touristy thing, at least for this part of the country.  We met a few locals and learned about the benefits of the sulfur (good for your skin) and not to shower for a day afterwards for the full effect.  I wasn’t sure if I could handle the smell on me, but I did end up not showering.  While we were chatting, it started pouring.  Instict would tell a person to get out of the rain when outside, but it seemed silly since we were already sitting in water.  It was oddly fun to be sitting in a hottub in the pouring rain, getting soaked from all directions.

 After we didn’t see Anders for a while and remembered that our purses were in his car, we decided to get out.  He was still there and listening to the weather on the local radio.  We left quickly as the heavy rains were coming our way.  After driving through some crazy rain on crazy winding roads we made it back to the hostel where everyone was inside the common room, debating on which movies to watch.  We ended up watching Lord of the Rings The Two Towers and made a huge list for the next day as it was supposed to rain all day again.  

It actually never rained the next day, although everything was wet and grey.  Robin, Canadian Chris, and I took a walk around Paihia being silly.  We stumbled across a school with a really cool playground and played on the monkey bars and went down the slides.  We wandered down a residential street and once we got to the top of the hill, realized that they were all gated houses and were really disappointed, since the view of the bay was blocked by the foilage.  We saw a home with a few goats in the yard, so we started playing with the goats!  They didn’t believe that I loved goats that much.  We found an antique shop where Chris made friends with the owner while I stuck my nose in some old books.  We were walking back towards town when two 15 (I’m guessing?) year old boys walked by with ice cream.  Robyn and I made yum noises and turned around to look at the ice cream, wondering where they got it from.  Chris was certain the boys thought we were checking them out, not their ice cream.  We found the ice cream and I ended up getting a Sundae with Hokey Pokey (vanilla with honeycomb chunks), the best Chocolate I have ever had, and Apple Pie ice creams with caramel instead of fudge.  Yum!  We visited the free art gallery and as soon as I walked in I spotted a painting of the Grand Canyon!  What?!?!  Thankfully that was the only American landscape and the rest of it was local or Maori. 

On our way back to the hostel, we decided it was a drinking day so Robyn and I split a bottle of Bacardi and picked up a 2-liter of coke.  We shared our alcohol with the Belgian ex-couple Jonas and Ine and went to the bar when that ran out.  The bar had a video DJ and played his songs in a loop-I’m pretty sure we danced to Beyonce’s “Put a Ring on It” at least twice, maybe even three times.  We left when it got too hot and crowded and headed for the beach to check out the stars, which are nothing in comparison to what I saw in the outback, but blow away any stars I might see from home. 



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4 responses to “Paihia and the Pickled Parrot”

  1. meg says:

    number one…i dont believe you thought you would have a hard time NOT showering…but maybe things have changed since you left home and are meeting new people 🙂 two…i wish you started yelling “puss” when you heard a meow…annnnndddd three…you gave up ice cream for lent!!! and its in writing!!! maybe just tim tams after all… 🙂 loveyou miss you… ohhh annnnnnnnnnnnddddd your “i hate goodbyes” moment..hopefully in a lloyd christmas fashion?

  2. lauracat says:

    number 1: I smelled really bad. Imagine smoked egg farts if that’s possible.
    number 2: I did call her “pusscakes”
    number 3: Shit! I guess I’m a bad Catholic. But Tim Tams for sure.
    aannnnnddddd yes that was in a lloyd christmas fashion, of course!

  3. lauracat says:

    edit: I didn’t call the bird ‘pusscakes’-I called the cat ‘pusscakes’

  4. Aunt Kris says:

    The bus ride was about five hours long, through pretty scenery of green rolling hills and extinct volcanoes all covered in cows.

    Great sentence! I just love it! I saw a picture of you holding the biggest cat I ever saw. He looked like Joe only twice as big. Anders is a Scandinavian name and his son would be called Anders son. I think the Norwegians are Andersson and the Swedes are Anderson or it it the other way around?

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