Unfortunately, my picture perfect Cathedral Cove photo was ruined by fences and boundaries that blocked off part of the cove warning visitors to stay away due to falling rock. I see “Keep Out” signs and what do I do? An Englishman and I sneak under the fence for a good laugh and a run around. Don’t they know not to tell me to not do something?
Our first night together was a bit sub-par considering the town we stayed in was population: us and us only. Regardless we scuffed up the dance floor and made some ruckus.
The next day was an early one as we made our way to smelly Rotorua. The town literally stinks of sulfuric acid, which is similar to that of a rotten egg. Talk about good times. While every went luging, I had a well-deserved nap at the hostel. Although I was sad to miss out on a good luck it was a good thing I was rested up for that night.
We had our Maori culture night dinner that evening. This night was one of my favorite memories of the trip. The Maoris are native aborigines people of New Zealand. Their history is something to be treasured and retold for generations to come or so I was told and paid big bucks to hear about. I could write a whole entry about their culture and history, but let’s be honest, no one wants to read that. The night was unforgettable though. We watched their war dances and they entertained us for hours with their stories, dances, and interesting displays of their history. Then the best part was dinner. Yum. Picture forty hungry backpackers being offered an all-you-can-eat-buffet style dinner complete with dessert. We were oinkers, pigs, and basically eat like savages. Picture what it was like when cave men were first introduced to silverware and that was us. I was surprised I didn’t witness people licking their plates. That is how wonderful every bite was. I discovered I love oysters amongst over delectable dishes.
The Maori people prepare the food from fire in these pits. I’d go into detail, but I honestly struggled to pay any attention to what they were saying as an array of deserts sat in front of me. Americans, picture how you feel mid-day on Thanksgiving after consuming half your body weight and mistakenly eating three helpings when the first one definitely was enough. That’s about right how we all felt after this meal.
This is our chief, Ash, and our bus driving doing the Hongi, a way of welcoming one another by pushing your noses together twice.
The bus ride back to the hostel was just as entertaining. The driver had a song for every one of us on the bus. He had memorized all of our names and what country we were from. He then sang a song for each country. Of course, he saved the best for last, and yes, an American would think this.
“Now, Sarah from America, this is for you,” he announced as he began to sing the lyrics to “She’s be coming around the mountain.” The funny thing wasn’t the song that he choose, but the fact that we had approached a roundabout and he continued to drive around and around and around the roundabout until the whole bus begin to chuckle. This guy was good at what he did. Every person on the bus felt special and important due to the fact he remembered our names and sang us all a song. The fact that we were all in food comatose helped, too. All in all it was an amazing night full of culture and fun.
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