Warning - toilet humour returns at the end of this blog. Don’t go there if you’re easily offended – You have been warned!!
This is also the longest blog yet, so go and put the kettle on you’ll need a drink to get through it.
Yet again we awoke this morning to no internet access, which was a shame as we were scheduled to Skype our other daughter this morning and we couldn’t. I went to the office and they immediately phoned the internet service provider who confirmed that some of their servers were down on North Island. The service on N Island has been terrible compared to the relative ease we had in South Island, yet their servers were based in Christchurch amidst all the chaos of the earthquake.
In trying to access the service this morning, it has gobbled up all the time I bought yesterday, despite the fact that I never got logged on. Anyway, Hopefully normal service will be resumed before tomorrow morning, when we will try to Skype again.
Otherwise, it was a brilliant weather start to the day, lovely clear blue skies, perfect for sightseeing. After breakfast and ablutions, we were off into town with the first stop an old Anglican church, which is in the middle of a Maori community. Rotorua is not a huge city and its streets are pretty much a grid system, so navigation is less of a problem here than it has been elsewhere. Straight to our destination, parked up and we were the only tourists around – perfect for those Kodak moments. Inside the church was quite a revelation as it was entirely a Maori theme, with everything in wood carved in Maori patterns and all the walls were bedecked in traditional Maori weaved panels from floor to ceiling. The most striking feature was an etched glass window, which featured Christ in a Maori cloak and if viewed from the pews made it look as though he was walking on the lake, which was just outside the window. Very cleverly thought out, we’ve never seen anything like that before.
Across from the church was a traditional Maori meeting house, which we were not allowed into as you have to be invited into such premises. All around, there was steam shooting out of the ground, even from some drain holes and little pools of water were bubbling away in odd corners. Quite bizarre. We wandered round the edge of the lake and saw another meeting house, which was in use by a large number of people, but we couldn’t work out if it was a funeral, wedding or what, but it definitely wasn’t a group of tourists. From Ohinemutu, where the church and village was, we followed the road round Lake Rotorua to the Government Gardens, which houses the old Bathhouse, now Rotorua’s museum and gallery. A fantastic piece of pseudo Victorian architecture which was, as its name implies, the place where people came from all over the world to ‘take the water’. It was also where soldiers came to recuperate after the wars. Instead of taking the water, we took the morning tea and coffee with date scone and mixed berry muffin, all adding to our 5 per day.
After morning refreshment we took the tour round the museum, starting with a super little film about how Rotorua was formed from its Maori culture perspective. Before you went in there was a warning about the film possibly being unsuitable for small children, but that was all. The film starts with a bit of history of the bathhouse opening and how people came from all over to soak in the mineral, hot water. They showed someone down in the bowels of the building opening a door into one of the pipes leading into the ground and the film went from old Victorian scenes into computer animation of a fireball racing up the pipe and loud thunderous music kicked in. At the same time all the seats jolted about as it there was an earthquake. Very cleverly done, but completely unexpected. Anyone of a nervous disposition or had just experienced a real quake could easily have passed away. In Disneyland they would have to have 10 foot high notice with a list of every ailment known to man and if you go into this film show, you might die. Out here it’s different, they don’t seem to have too much time for political correctness. Once the heart started again, the rest of the film was informative and pretty good, even if it did appear to be made to a tight budget. Still what was not spent on making the film was definitely made up for in the cost of making the seats move around. Top marks to whoever thought it up.
After the museum we parked up on the lake front and ate lunch whilst watching the busloads of Japanese tourists hop off their coaches snap the lake with their iPhones or massive telephoto lenses and in some cases both. After the obligatory pictures of the lake and each other, in various poses, they were back on the coach for the next destination. With my desire to snap everything in sight, perhaps I was a Japanese tourist in a previous life. From the lake front, we returned to Government gardens to snap the Bathhouse and surrounding buildings, whilst at the same time keeping a watchful eye on the games of bowls that were going on. By now it was late afternoon and we had booked to go on a Maori cultural evening, departing at 5pm, so it was back to the motel to get ready. Whilst Maureen put some washing on in the laundry, I downloaded the days photos on to the netbook.
We were picked up outside the campsite and after a few more hotel pickups, we were taken to the downtown office of the company providing the tour to pick up the remaining passengers and pay for the evening. Yet again we were offered a discount as senior citizens. We must be starting to look old. We were also briefed on various aspects of Maori culture that should be respected during the various evening proceedings. Our driver, Sonny, was absolutely brilliant, with a wicked sense of humour. That is until he informed everyone that on the way home, every different nationality on the coach will be expected to sing a ‘local’ song. We all thought he was probably joking. One of the coach party was volunteered to be our chief at the greeting ceremony and when we arrived at the venue, just out of town, we were ushered into an area where the greeting would take place. We were asked to remain silent and not move around whilst the event took place as a matter of respect. As the first warrior took to the floor the cameras started to click away, that is everyone but mine – the battery had just run out!!! There was a spare in my rucksack, but that would mean moving around. Bugger the protocol, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I rekon I could have won a gold medal if battery changing was an Olympic event. Before most people were lining up their second shot I was back in action.
After the greeting we followed the chiefs into the Maori village and saw various skills and games that were taught and played by the forefathers of today’s tribes. It was quite well done, slightly touristy, but definitely acceptable. From the practical skills, we then had the formal acceptance of the visitors by the traditional rubbing of noses between the tribal chief and our honorary chief. This was followed by Maori music and dancing and of course the Haka. Again, good quality entertainment and how the women, all of ample proportions, managed to swing those white balls on bits of string without knocking each other out amazed us both.
Then it was time to eat dinner which had been prepared in a Hangi. Hot rocks are placed in a hole in the ground, then the meat is placed in metal baskets, with the veg on top, then the desert on top of that. It’s then all covered with wet cloth, followed by wet hessian. The whole lot is covered with soil and left to cook for several hours. Dinner was then served and it was absolutely delicious.
After dinner the coach drivers and waiting staff did some impromptu singing and the evening came to an end. Very enjoyable, educational and very entertaining – all in all a good evening.
As soon as we were on the coach and moving, Sonny carried out his threat and announced the first country to get up and sing. As we went through the different nationalities on board the quality of singing varied from bad to absolutely chronic. I don’t mind presenting to an audience of any size, but I cannot sing and it was now our turn. Oh shit! We went to the front of the bus and gave an animated rendition of ‘The Wheels on the Bus’ Sonny liked our tune and so did the bus load of Jonny foreigners. When we got to the second chorus of tooting the horn, sonny did just that, much to the amusement of the passengers. On the third chorus when the wipers go swish–swish-swish, Sonny turned on the wipers. We stopped there whilst we still had the crowd with us and received a hearty round of applause. Sonny took over the singing, once all nationalities had done their bit and started with ‘Coming round the mountain’ at this moment we were just coming up to a small roundabout and he went round it three times to the music. This was considered really funny by everyone and he was milking it for all he could. Eventually we started to drop off passengers in reverse order of collection and we were back indoors by 9.30 after a great evening and one we will remember for a long time after our musical?? Interlude.
Finally, whilst going round the shop in the Maori village we came across this product. For 61 years I have always managed with a bar of soap, but perhaps I’ve been missing out? Anyone know if this works better?
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