Rotorua smells of eggs. Not the “Mmmm eggs & bacon & buttery toast” kind of smell, but the rotten eggs kind of smell. This sulphur city is pretty stinky due to all the hot mud pools and thermal activity.
Today is a big day. It’s the Maori experience. We learnt lots, ate lots and then we ate some more. Before we entered the village, we had to elect a chief. We voted old Paul. Old Paul and the Maori chief greeted in the traditional way: touching noses twice, saying “Kia Ora” and then giving a short speech about why we are here. Old Paul almost went in for a third nose touch. Damn it Paul, making us look bad. Keep focused! Our feet walking on their land was a big moment. Women had to walk behind the men, and when we entered the sleeping rooms, no shoes were allowed.
These people take tradition very seriously. You can’t laugh. But with man-boobs jiggling and their eyes bulging, I had to bite my tongue a little.
We learnt about the carvings on the walls – the different Gods, influences and morals.
“Does anyone have any questions?”
Crazy hat lady raises her hand. “Can you remind me where the bathroom is?”
Crazy hat lady always asks irrelevant questions.
Time for cake. Unlimited cake. The banana bread was unreal. Deep fried scones with jam and cream was then followed by leaning Maori songs and dances and playing traditional games with sticks. The sticks were big – human height.
Crazy hat lady did not listen to the rules and threw her stick at the wrong time and almost took Jess’ eye out.
After more playful activities and learning about tattoos, carvings, fitness and fighting, it was time for the feast. Our little backpacker bellies were over the moon to digest mountains of roasted veggies, salads, fillets of fish, every meat you can imagine and the biggest, juiciest mussels on the planet. All meats are cooked underground for hours on end, to ensure tasty, tender goodness. Dessert didn’t disappoint either. Toffee sponge, custards, fruits and passion fruit pavlovas.
Our bloated bellies then got semi naked in bikinis and we got in the hot tubs and hit the bar. Then around midnight we gathered around a ginormous fire, roasted marshmallows and listened to Maori stories.
We stumbled into our beautiful tent room that might as well be a hotel and, quote Matt: “I think this was the best day of my life.”
Crazy hat lady wakes up before 5am, waking up innocent fellow travellers (ME).
Crazy hat lady unpacks her backpack and viciously rustles plastic bags.
Crazy hat lady gives a loud, running commentary: “I’m opening up my bag now…”
“I’m folding my clothes now…”
“I’m putting on my socks now…”
Crazy hat lady then irons every item of clothing with her hair straighteners.
What is life.
Breakfast was fit for a king.
Apart from my disturbed sleep, the Maori experience has been amazing. I’m relaxed, well fed, but most of all, I now have SO much respect for their culture and history.