November 5-7

So after a night in Auckland, we hit the road, Jack, in our shiny big bus. Once we got out of the city, this is pretty much what we saw for 90% of the drive to Rotorua, a place I can never pronounce without thinking of drain clogs. 
Danny The Bus Driver. Note stuffed animal on dashboard; that's Kay's and it's a New Zealand possum. They've made the best out of the bad situation of having them (they're nonnative to the country) and you can get lovely soft fur and duvet covers that are made of possum and mohair. They're quite expensive so I just got a pillow casing. A purple one. Fantastic.

Danny, meanwhile, was funny in a corny way but had a million good things to tell us as we drove. And no, that's not Scotland out there. It really is New Zealand.
I'd like to have more photos of this place, but a) we were in a cave and b) then we were in a boat flowing on an underground stream in total darkness except for thousands of phosphorescent glowworms on the ceiling. Which was amazing.

Also amazing: In the cave leading to the underground cavern, we came to "the Cathedral" section -- a very high, acoustically-sound place. The tour before us suddenly burst out into "You Are My Sunshine" and we were like, "Bwah?" But when it was our turn our cave guide suggested a song. Kay said she could sing, and we thought, okay, hit it. And she launched into a full-throated "Ave Maria" that made everyone around stop and listen. And, of course, the "You Are My Sunshine" folks feel silly.
Still green, still rural. Loads of cows and sheep everywhere. And, from time to time, a paddock filled with ... deer. They don't let them run wild, but people like the meat, so deer are now a farm animal. Very odd to drive by a clutch of deer just sitting lazily around like, well, cows.

Irony alert: Some people really like the gamy taste of venison, but since farm-raised deer don't have that, they're looking now for ways to put the "gamy" back in. People are perverse!


If you can pretend that it's not somehow demoralizing to reduce an entire cultural body into dinner theater, you'll enjoy a "traditional Hangi feast and cultural performance." As you see, they eat a lot of chicken. And potatoes. (There were other options.) This is all outside, steaming over coals. We took a look at the food, got a little lesson in Maori culture (at least the Maoris run the place that exploits their heritage, so, okay then) and then....
.... it was down to the little creek they have running through the property to be greeted by the Maoris in full traditional costume, on a canoe. Lighting is terrible, but it was dusk, so take what you can get.
On the route to the creek stood a Maori wooden head with traditional face markings. Hair not necessarily true to form.
After dinner and canoe, there was the performance. We're under a roof, the performance area is pretty exposed to the elements. There was a lot of spear waving and husky shouting and displays of courage, then some music and dancing and poi. The kids were the cutest things ever.
All this way, to find the Big Apple. It happens.
The room in Rotorua's Millennium hotel. Not bad, but pretty basic. I was only there one night; more on that in a bit. 
Mad Max: Beyond Agrodome
"In this chapter, our Aussie bad boy hero takes on the rabid sheep who have taken over the Lands Down Under...."
Now, this is a stage act I can get into. Each of those sheep is a different breed, and they're all raised in New Zealand. Our host brought them out one by one through a panel on the side of the stage. He also hauled out a cow, and I volunteered to milk it; got the certficate and everything. Of course, I neglected to remember that when going up to the stage he would ask my name, and I also neglected to remember that he'd probably not snicker when I said "Randee." Such is life: He's stuck with the sheep.
And, has an incredible ability to shear and shear and shear. 
These sheep (or rams) have massive horn ability, and their coats are so thick you can sink most of your lower arm into the wool before reaching actual sheep. I think they're really only the size of cats.
 
The final part of the act had the sheepdogs come out and herd -- not sheep, because that would be a stampede on stage -- but ducks. This is not what I thought a sheepdog looked like, but that's quite all right. They were very sweet, and on cue jumped on top of the sheep's backs.
Next, off to the Rainbow Springs Kiwi Wildlife park to not see a kiwi.
 
This is both a kiwi and not a kiwi, as it is stuffed. The real ones are nocturnal, but despite keeping them in a dark room they were asleep when we came by, so I never saw a real-live kiwi.
Kaka. (Snort.)
The Kea, one of New Zealand's native species. Smart little f-ers, they're of the parrot family and have been known to attack wildlife. Also, if you leave your car in the carpark out in wild areas to go hiking for the day, they've also been known to strip it of its rubber.
Seriously, there are places in Rotorua where you can't build houses, because the ground is literally steaming. 

Also, the place smells like sulphur.
More Maori culture appreciation, at a place called Te Puia, which is a thermal reserve. This is a traditional hut.
And this is a traditional ... uh, doorway?
Back in the workroom where Maoris are still practicing traditional carving techniques. The skills are gender-separated, which I don't dig, but that's how it is. Men carve, women weave.
Beautifully done.
My first chance to see a geyser. Pretty impressive stuff.
Erupts pretty much constantly.
This is off to the side of the geyser; it looks toxic but is really the mineral runoff that goes into the river. Despite the yuck on the side, note how clear and clean-looking the water is. 
Like primordial ooze, this is super-heated mud that's literally just bubbling away. Fascinating and disgusting at the same time.
Night two in Rotorua was actually spent at the home of Joy and Owen Roberts, who own a small four-acre farm in the even more rural area outside Rotorua and rent it out as a B&B. I took up the "homestay" option for tonight, as did two couples from my group, and we stayed here. (Some other couples stayed elsewhere, and some remained in the hotel, which seemed to me to defeat the purpose of actually going to a foreign country: To meet the people.) 

The cat is named Topsy and generally didn't like anyone, but the owners were delightful. If you want to stay with them, I have their business card. Phone: 0064-73331664 / email: salanga@farmside.co.nz
They had some tufted chickens, which were beautiful and amusing.
And they had a small group of cattle and the dog, Bailey, who loves chasing the ball. His fellow Jack Russell family resides over at Joy's daughter's home, just next door and it was hilarious to see that many Jack Russells gamboling in the grass all at once.
My room at the Roberts'. Got a bit chilly in the evening but there were loads of blankets and I was very comfortable.
Next day, Joy took us all to this farmer's market (see left) where she and her daughter sell things like honey (if I remember right) from the farm. I took this picture of the pond because it's a thermal pond. See the small ripples? That's where it's bubbling, not where fish are rising to the surface.