More Roto-Vegas (Feb. 4)

First off, it’s kind of hilarious to us that Kiwis like to call Rotorua Roto-Vegas. Although maybe it’s a bit like Vermonters calling Rutland Rut-Vegas. If you’ve been to Vegas, there’s about 0% chance you’d mistake Rotorua (or Rutland for that matter) for it, but maybe they’re just being cheeky here?

Today we did more of the tourist thing and went to Wai-O-Tapu, a slightly overpriced geothermal park south of town where you can see a host of pretty interesting geysers, craters, and other formations caused by the hot water and minerals shooting to the surface from deep underground. While in Rotorua, we felt somewhat compelled to go, though perhaps the Waitangi Day weekend was not the best of timing: the place was packed with other tourists, which was less than awesome.

Geothermal wonders at Wai-O-Tapu

One thing that was pretty awesome was Kerosene Creek, a naturally heated creek near Wai-O-Tapu that is somewhat akin to sitting in a hot tub with a waterfall. And it was free, which as always is the right price for us. We deserved it after overpaying for Wai-O-Tapu, we thought. The owner of the hostel we’re staying at, The Funky Green Voyager (which by the way is an excellent little hostel), warned us that a lot of thefts have occurred there since Lonely Planet, the guidebook that basically every backpacker here has (us included), recommended it in the last edition.

Sorry, ladies, he's already taken

Prior to that Kerosene Creek was a bit of a local secret, which was blown by LP, and subsequently has become the target of unsavory characters looking to take shiny things from people’s cars. Apparently the local uproar has caused LP to remove the portion on Kerosene Creek from the next edition, which hopefully will restore things somewhat. The hostel owner alluded to another similar but largely unknown creek, but was noticeably silent on details about it. Guess they want to keep some secrets to themselves, not that we really can blame them.

Last, we hit the Redwoods park outside of town. They planted a forest of California redwoods here a long time ago (probably 50+), making a scenic reserve with walking paths. Becky had never seen redwoods before, so she was excited to see them. It was quite a nice little park, and we managed to avoid the bus-full of Japanese tourists for the most part, which was a definite plus. If you see a group of Japanese tourists disembarking a bus at a tourist destination, run, don’t walk. The only bummer about this forest was that they don’t have any trees on the scale of the largest ones in Cali yet, so someday we’ll have to visit the originals. Until then, the NZ versions will have to do, not that we’re complaining.

Tree hugger at heart

Something’s Rotten in the State of Rotorua (Feb. 3)

Just an hour south of Tauranga lies our next stop in our Kiwi tour, Rotorua. Rotorua is the most popular tourist spot of New Zealanders, which seems funny at first, seeing as how there are so many gorgeous beaches. But an economist would probably reason that none of the beaches ranks as the single most popular spot because they’re all such close substitutes for each other. Leaving Rotorua (or as Kiwis are wont to call it, Roto-Vegas), which has its charms, but also its fair share of peculiarities, as the top domestic tourist area.

Rotorua is a Maori word meaning “second lake”, but a more fitting name would be whatever the Maori word is for rotten eggs. Rotorua has a lot of geothermal activity going on below the surface, which reveals itself in the form of geysers and bubbling springs, but most notably through a strong sulfurous smell that permeates the entire region. In any event, there’s a lot to enjoy in Rotorua, but the sulfur never lets you forget that it’s here to stay.

We did quite the set of touristy things today in Rotorua, which I guess is only fitting. First, I Zorbed down a hill north of town. I felt compelled to go Zorbing since it’s a uniquely New Zealand activity, as this is the only location in the world that it’s done. Also, as the Romans would say, I am the ne plus ultra of extreme. Basically, you hop in a giant cushioned beach ball, which may or may not be filled with water, and are rolled down a 200m hill. It’s a good time, even if there really isn’t much point to the whole thing besides a fun ride. If you’re ever in Rotorua, you might as well. Hopefully, video will be available in the near future.

Empty zorbs on the top of the hill

Our zorbonaut, Andrew, after a successful voyage

Walking through Rotorua was interesting, as there was a Maori church on the lakefront, in what we can only describe as the Maori Tudor style. Also, there’s a free park downtown where you can see a bit of the geothermal activity going on underneath the surface. At the very least, it was more interesting than the La Brea Tar Pits in LA. Sorry Chipper…

The Maori church in Rotorua

Becky, wide-mouthed, by a Maori tiki

The second touristy thing we did was going to a hangi, which is roughly the Maori equivalent of a luau. We generally hate doing the really touristy group activities, but this was billed as a good cultural activity in the literature we’d read, so even though it was a bit expensive, we decided that we really should attend one in New Zealand, just to judge for ourselves. Overall, it had its good and bad parts.

The good: some parts of the entertainment/cultural show were quite interesting. The actors sang, danced, and used and explained some Maori musical instruments. They also re-enacted peace ceremonies and war dances (haka), and by and large did a good job communicating the significance of those things and of their culture. Also, the hangi dinner was good, plentiful, and filling. I tried to eat enough for three days to try and offset the expense, but unfortunately you can’t store up calories for future use, even when backpacking.

The bad: there were a lot of people attending the dinner, which made us feel like cattle being herded during the walking tours, especially since people felt the need to jostle their way up to the front any time there might be something of interest going on. This type of show always makes us feel like ridiculous tourists, too, which is funny. Also, though the presenters generally did a good job presenting aspects of their culture, it still ended up feeling a bit voyeuristic and slightly exploitative, even though the Maori people were clearly OK doing the show. I hate to be depressing, but it made me think: the winners write history, and the losers are perhaps doomed to re-enacting it as dinner theater in future generations. But I’m glad that we went and did our hangi; now we can continue to explore New Zealand and enjoy the rest of our meals here free of moral ambiguity…