Auckland & Rotorura

After figuring out the rental car (the windshield wipers were where the turn signal should be, crazy British cars!), we headed for Auckland. Personally I wasn’t a big fan of New Zealand’s largest city (though not their capital, and I bet residents of Wellington hate it when foreigners assume Auckland is New Zealand’s capital; I certainly do when I say “I’m from Ottawa, Canada’s capital” and people reply “I thought the capital was Toronto…”). I can usually read a city after a day or two, get a feel for what makes it unique. But when we left Auckland, it was still a mystery to me. It felt like a combination of many different cities, arranged in a way that just didn’t work right. I found a little confusing and frustrating. Now that I think about it, though, it may not have been Auckland’s fault. This was the first city I had been in, in a year, that had more then three paved road. Maybe I was actually just overwhelmed by the streets, traffic, malls, and crowds, that I hadn’t had to deal with for awhile.

It was at this time that I began to notice a curious habit of New Zealanders – they stared. They openly stared; they looked, and did not look away. Now, I know what you’re going to say. “You probably had food in your beard.” And ordinarily I’d concede on this, I’m not ashamed to admit that a beard is a great place to keep food, nice and close to the mouth, and that, combined with my messy eating habits, often leads to many cookie crumbs savoured long after desert has ended for everyone else. But, when leaving Tonga I had trimmed my beard especially short, so this time that wasn’t the case. And it wasn’t just me – they stared at all of us, separate or together. And it wasn’t just in Auckland, it happened everywhere, all across the country, during the entire two weeks! It would become a constant topic of conversation – “that was weird, those two people looked at us, but then kept staring until we passed them – did you see that?” It got to the point where I would say “hello,” or wave, or, near the end of our trip, occasionally stick my tongue out. That’d snap them out of it, maybe they’d then look away, but nothing more, not even a “hello” back. Very strange. (Australians, I have found, do not have this habit. Does New Zealand stand alone in the Commonwealth with the largest population of staring contest winners?).

In Auckland, we saw the sights, including a volcano-top base built to defend the city from a nineteenth century Russian invasion that never came. And we marvelled at Canada’s representation on CC billboards (they managed to include a bunch of stereotypes – remoteness (note the bush plane), mountains, snow, fir trees, moose, beavers, and, surprise, beer). Oh, and I got a haircut, and ate sushi, crossing it off a mental “to eat in first world” list that included (of course) pizza and (yeah, I know) a Big Mac.

Then we pushed on to Rotorura. This was New Zealand’s volcanic activity capital. We were here for Christmas and Boxing Day, so not much was open, but there was still plenty to do. A great big hill was next to the holiday park, and I was determined to climb it as soon as I saw it. Lisa joined me, in what became a hike uphill through dense woods with no path to follow and only loose leaves to step on and rotting wood to grab. During the climb, we discussed the possibility of finding, at the top, a path/a road/a restaurant-gift shop, but instead found level ground so covered with trees that we didn’t even get a nice view of the area. Then it was a slide downhill, me willingly adopting the feet-bum-hands technique I had perfected for downhill on a hike with Sheldon, Leo, and Dennis in Salmon Arm, Lisa adopting it in spurts as an alternative to falling down.

The next day we checked out a free-access thermal area in town. We decided that, faced with a great big useless field full of steam vents and bubbling mud pools, the city council slapped a couple signs and railings on the place and called it a park. It had some nice hot wading pools, but it also stank of rotten eggs, so it was give-and-get. There were signs scattered about containing the history of the area. The pools had been used in the past to wash dirty things like laundry and children. One discussed a “Lobster Pool” that turned fair skin red. After that, a swim in Blue Lake, which was decidedly too cold to swim in, and naps on the beach. The next day we moved on to Okahune, Mount Doom, and Tongariro National Park. That is, with a detour to Taupo Bungy…

It never fired a shot in anger...but in frustration? Probably. Where are those Ruskies!

And it looks even bigger in real life...

I just want to experience the warmth of Tonga again!