Rotorua Road Trip

I was couching it all in super generous terms—my friend Eric from the States is in Wellington for a couple of months, and I was all like, “Girl, your experience of the North Island should not be limited to Cuba Street!”—but really I was feeling a bit restless and wanting to get out of town. It’s been a long time since I’ve been up to Rotorua and I only vaguely remembered that I had been to the spa and walked around the lake and that it had been very cold and no one could understand my accent somehow, so it seemed like a good place to revisit.

Last time I was there I had been in the country for like three days and I was still trying to figure out the mysteries of the InterCity bus system, but this time, I’m happy to say, I was able to do things slightly more stylishly—in that yes, I may have still stayed at a slightly terrifying backpackers’, but hey, I had my own room this time! And instead of a bus I got to hire a car almost like an adult, so this was all very thrilling for me.

So Friday Eric and I met at Fidel’s and got road trip snacks and got the car, which was distressingly Starship-Enterprisey for me, what with its multiple screens and lights and strange ergonomic design, and we got the hell out of Wellington. I still don’t have a car but I drive for work fairly regularly, so I felt pretty comfortable with the trip, but I have to say there was a point up on the Kapiti Coast that marked the furthest I. personally, had ever driven in NZ and that that felt like some sort of landmark. No pictures exist, of course—I brought out the camera this weekend only to take photos of steam vents, you see–but trust me when I tell you that I can arrange the hell out of a roadtrip playlist, and the six or so hours up there passed pleasantly with much full throated car singing (we listened and played air drums and air guitar to “Cannonball” by the Breeders twice).

After a freezing cold night, Saturday dawned rather cheerless, weather-wise, but we were determined to get our tourist on, multiple layers be damned. Sure, we could have zorbed, I guess, but my interests lay more in the direction of boiling mud pools, so off we went to Orakei Korako to see some hot, hot geothermal activity.

It’s just this…park, I guess, on the other side of a little lake. You just walk around and look at the steam venting out of the earth, being careful not to step off the boardwalk and get parboiled to death.

Weirdly, there are all sorts of algae living in the boiling hot water and since I love single-celled things I found the colors they made quite good.

I was particularly enamoured of the deep blue pool there in the distance, which is also apparently a product of algae. Algae! Is there anything they can’t do?

Because I come of simple folk, I also greatly enjoyed this picturesquely blorping, blopping mud, which can also be found in the form of extremely manly soap at the Polynesian Spa at something of a markup.

It was just a beautiful day…it got warmer and we shed our layers of jackets and hoodies and hats, and just wandered around grooving at the eerie Land Of The Lost landscape. I am not entirely sure I didn’t see a brontosaurus peeking out from behind the tree ferns.

There was this gorgeous steep-sided cave with more bright blue water at the bottom of it, totally clear.

Eric looking quite staunch at the bottom of the cave.

I think it would have been great indeed to have brought a picnic and to have sat looking out over the valley, but alas my organizational skills failed me once again so there was nothing for it but to head back to town and get our togs on for a couple of hours at ye olde Polynesian Spa. Again, no pictures exist (because it’s sort of creepy to bring a camera to hot pools, I think) but a good time was had by all, with much yelling “OW HOT HOT HOT” (on my part at least) followed by much happy sighing and soaking. I wish more places had volcanically heated spas for me to soak in every day.

Sunday it was time for the drive back to Wellington, which I was sort of dreading not only because I had forgotten the iPod charger so we were to be at the mercy of the radio for six hours but also because, as much as I love Wellington, it was just so nice to do something different, to get a change of scene. I’ve had a couple of weekends away this year, and of course a holiday back in Florida, but I do sort of miss traveling more often around New Zealand, even if I’m pretty much over backpacking. It was a lot of fun to be a tourist for just a weekend.

So it was nice to stroll along the lake after a plate of waffles the size of my head, finally feeling like summer.

A…gaggle? Of swans?

And here is my beloved pukeko, seen here along the edge of a golf course. I was making kissy baby noises at it (“Aw, pukeko! Whooooooooo’s a pukeko!”) when this random guy came along and said he could try to bring it in closer, proceeding to throw it some bread and then inform us that pukekos taste, and I quote, “a bit stringy.” This particular pukeko didn’t eat the bread right then and there, but picked it up in its velociraptor-like beak and stalked off on its giant feet. We followed it a little bit and were treated to…

A whole pukeko family! With the baby, which had the biggest feet of all, eating bread from its mom’s beak! Very exciting!

In the interest of going out on a high note, we soon headed to the car and the open road for some very sincere discussion related to the Muppet Movie and the Muppets in general, as well as some heartfelt renditions of various power ballads and old-skool rap tunes from Eric over there in the passenger seat (um, not pictured), who nearly made me drive off the road from laughing so hard.

More road trips next year, I think. Who wants to join me?