Day 177

I forgot to mention on my zorbing day that I went for a wonderfully long walk along the water. Rotorua, like many other New Zealand communities and like many a Canadian community, has seen and understands the concept of recreation and as such is it just a nice time to gather your thoughts. And, in the case of Rotorua, one to take in just a wee sample of the sulphuric water that surrounds the community in the similarly named lake.

In any case after a restful morning I decided to head to the Rotorua Museum of Art and History. This is a former bath house in the early 1900’s and as such it was quite fascinating to see some of the relics that were left over.

You even could go into the basement to explore the heating system, which I did, taking them up on their offer of hard hats to use in case of your being a freakishly tall human. As I am.

The other highlight was the tele-theatre, which frankly had a great 20 minute film detailing the history of the baths and other culturally relevant items in the area.

But with all that being said, and added to the fact that I went on the 80 minute “introductory tour”, I was kind of “museumed out”.

I’ve thought about this… after having hit the Otago Museum, the Dunedin Art Gallery, Te Papa in Wellington, the W(h)anganui Regional Museum and its neighbouring Searjeant Gallery, I think I’m going to try and take a break from the historical side just for a bit. Not that I don’t enjoy it… I’m just in the mode where I’m getting a wee bit too much of a good thing.

I decided as such to take the afternoon off and relax at the Flashpackers, taking in a bit of Olympic Spirit from back home. The coverage over here (on free channel “Prime”) is a bit hopscotchy – for example you don’t necessarily get to see things covered from end to end, unless it’s the figure skating for some odd reason – but isn’t that bad. I do miss the wall to wall coverage, although I’m slightly saddened that CBC doesn’t have the rights this year.
I was mystified, however, to hear that one Prime commentator remarked that Canada’s male curling skip, Kevin Martin of Alberta, was “a”, if not “the”, sex symbol of the games.
Am I missing something?

In any case it was time to go and enjoy the next festivities. I had booked a traditional Maori cultural dinner for the evening, complete with its entertainment. The shuttle van picked me up at around 6.20 pm, drove me to the headquarters (where they were more than happy to take my money) and then everyone loaded into one of four buses, which were to serve as our “wakas” for the evening (waka = craft/canoe in Maori).

On the bus our driver, Ahora, was quite entertaining. One of the first things was an election of chief. Now although I was one of three finalists (spurred on by a Commonwealth movement of Aussies) I didn’t get it, which frankly I was okay with. Sometimes the Drama teacher wants a night off, you know!

We arrived and it first started with a traditional welcome ceremony. One of the key things was that Maori welcoming involves greeting by not only their painted faces (which they use to distinguish their tribes, if memory serves) but also the sticking out of tongues and making of traditional noises (which if you didn’t know better you might have gone to a KISS concert – but I did, don’t worry). We were all informed not to laugh at this time, as I imagined others may of at times.

Following the welcome we were lead into the village where we were allowed to explore the huts, detailing different parts of their lives. It was quite interesting – we go to see how they apply the face paints, and also test our skills by training in traditional Maori ways. One of the things that you could try was something akin to running left-right-left-right through tires (like in American football training, for example). If you did that, you were allowed to take a picture (only after giving up your wife as a gift!). Although I did quite horribly (and admitted as such), I was granted the gesture.

It was then time for the bulk of the entertainment for the night. We got to go into a hall and enjoy a number of songs. All played traditionally (ok, maybe not the stage lights!) and was quite fascinating. They have mad skills!
Finally it was time for a traditional dinner. Let’s see, there was chicken, lamb (traditional in NZ – baa baa bye sheep), salad, potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots, bread, cranberries, gravy, stuffing… what a feast! And that was just the main course – for dessert there was pavlova and steamed pudding with custard (I went for the latter). They joked that backpackers were welcome to go up for seconds and thirds, if not sevenths and eighths! I’m sure that they’ve had a few people bring up plastic containers to bring it home, too.

I had a wonderful chat with one of a pair of twin brothers that were visiting from London. About two months before they had just decided to up and go – quitting their jobs! Crazy, but it happens. They were having the time of their life, although I imagine that after doing no less than six different adventurous sports in Queenstown their wallet was a wee bit thinner.

After getting a bit of a lesson in how to make a “hangi”, which is a traditional Maori dinner (and discovering that the Kiwis and Aussies have a gentle relationship) we headed back on the bus. Each country was asked to sing during Maorioke (HA!). I decided to represent Canada and after stating that I was not once, but twice rejected from Canadian Idol I then launched into the classic If I Had $1000000 by the Barenaked Ladies. Didn’t get the whole thing right, but I’m pretty sure I stayed more in tune than the Irishman sitting next to me!

Cheers,
Vick.