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From the moment you enter the city of Rotorua, you’re hit
with the pungent odor of rotten eggs.
One elderly passenger opened the window a crack and allowed the stench
of sulfur to engulf the entire bus.
Rotorua is a mystery onto itself, or perhaps more a mystery of human
nature. I spent much of my time there
wondering why anyone thought it was a good idea to build a city on the
flattened remains of an active volcano.
In the centre of town, Kairau park hisses and steams with
the wrath of the underworld. Mud boils
up from fenced off pits just across from the playground and steam seeps from
cracks in the earth. I walked across the
boardwalk over Lake Kairau and watched the wind blow steam across the surface
of the lake, mesmerized, until the wind blew a little too much in my direction
and I was engulfed in a thick cloud of sulfur.
It is a peculiar place.
One beautiful Saturday morning in late November, the town of
Rotorua slathered themselves with sunscreen and flocked to city centre for the
annual Santa Parade. It was an
interesting experience to watch a Santa parade in shorts and a tank top, and
I’m not sure if I’ll get used to the Southern Hemisphere Christmas. The parade featured, among other things,
elves, ogres, Santa, girls in bikinis, sheep, a girl in a kiwi bird suit, water
pistols and several floats depicting Christmas on various tropical
islands. That’s not to mention the
musical styling’s of Little Drummer Boy, bagpipes, Let it Snow and
Rhianna. I asked a kiwi about their
Christmas carols, and she said “oh yeah, we sing all sorts of carols about
snow.” I guess there aren’t that many
that aren’t.
The following day was warm and gorgeous, and we could think
of nothing better to do than head out of town and roll down a hill in a giant
plastic bubble. Zorbing is a bit like a
waterslide, and a bit like what I would imagine it would feel like to be
trapped in a hamster ball. After jumping
superman-style through a tight hole in the zorb, I struggled to my feet in a
pool of water and began pushing on the wall of the ball, down the hill. Within seconds I was on my ass again and
rolling zigzag style down the hill, not sure which way was up. I sloshed around like that for about 60
seconds before coming to a halt at the bottom and sliding out and plopping on
the ground, an act which looks and feels a bit like being born.
(Bagawk!)
