We stayed in a purposefully cheesy hostel called Cactus Jack's, which was festively decorated throughout in the style of unabashedly cheesy southwestern U.S. motifs. This is the kind of crap you can find in Rotorua.
You can also find the world's one and only place to jump inside of a big plastic ball and roll down a hill. How fantastic is that? I can tell you firsthand it's pretty darn awesome. You can usually do it dry, where you're just strapped in in the shape of an X and you roll stuck in that position, head over heels, over and over. Or, you can roll about freely inside the ball with some water. We did the latter option. It was the only one they were offering that day, for some reason. Best (and unfortunately most expensive) watersport ever. You're rolling every which way, you can't tell what's up or down, there's water in your face and eyes, and you're bouncing off the plastic walls and rolling around and around. And definitely screaming with delight.
On a side note, watching people exit the zorb is creepily funny; it looks like you're watching a birthing. You see someone squeeze out of this tiny hole and fall to the ground in a heap, the water coming out afterward and spilling all over them and the ground. I can see your collective cringing.
Then we found this beautiful little hot springs location called Kerosene Creek (actually, Lonely Planet told us about it). It was gorgeous, complete with a tiny waterfall, and felt like a hot tub. Smelled like deviled eggs, though. Those are sulphurous waters. The whole city stinks, in fact. But how cool is it to swim in a natural hot spring? For free!
When we got out I noticed it had stained Adam's silver bracelet, a Christmas present from me, a dark brassy color. We laughed, though. It's a little disturbing to realize that you just swam in water that discolors silver. I bet I'm radioactive now. Damn.
We ended the day with a traditional Maori concert and hangi (traditional meal). There were several options to do this; it's quite a popular to-do on a New Zealand to-do list. Around Rotorua there are a couple traditional Maori villages which you can go explore and watch a concert and eat. However, bring nearly broke backpackers, we found the cheapest concert and hangi. It was in a hotel. Don't laugh, because many hotels in the area do concerts. The food was delicious (especially the entire dessert plate I downed) and the concert was pretty impressive at times. They did crazy things with sticks and balls. They also dragged Adam and I onto the stage to make fools of ourselves, which we did to perfection. The video I have is of (some of) the haka, which is a very famous Maori dance here that they used to use to get ready for battle. Now the national rugby team of New Zealand performs it before every game. (Note to self: see rugby game upon return to New Zealand. Also learn how the hell rugby actually works.)
The second day was equally cool, if not even better. We went on a five-hour caving tour which included abseiling, black water rafting and rock climbing. Quite the workout for anyone, especially two jelly asses that eat too much dessert. I'm glad we even made it – we were told by a worker at Cactus Jack's that it would take only an hour to get to the Waitomo Caves and that we'd therefore have plenty of time to make the tour. It took over two though, so we cut it reeeeeeeeeally close, and in fact were late, making everyone else wait on us for 20 minutes while we sped dangerously through the New Zealand countryside as if in a high-speed police chace. We plowed through sheep and old people to get to our destination with no regard for life, human or otherwise. Not really, but we did drive too fast. And on the left side of the road!
We made it, with everyone pissed off at us but we quickly used our beguiling charms to get them on our side and had no problem afterwards. Except for being teased as the outcasts for the entire trip.
We had to make our way one by one down a cliff to get to the cave, which definitely freaked me out. He tells you to just sit down and swing out into nothing, that the safety rope has got you. I knew I was safe but part of me was still saying Oh heeeeeeeell no and plastering an unwanted terrified look on my face, according to the group.
But I managed to avoid death and made it into the cave. It was a glowworm cave, which means these glowworms, or glowmaggots, more accurately, are stuck all along the top of it inside. And they glow. So in the dark of the cave you look up and it feels like you're looking at the night sky full of stars. But you're looking at shiny maggots.
It was beautiful, this huge cave, and full of water throughout. It was great sitting in the dark looking up at the glowworms, and even better when we floated in our little donut tubes along the current and watched them pass by overhead. There was however the unfortunate incident when our guide, Simon, had us turn off our helmet lights and float in the water in the pitch darkness. Then, like the sadistic bastard he is, he popped a tube or something full of air pressure and produced an extremely loud noise like a gunshot, somewhere too damn near me, and made me scream almost as loudly as his gunshot.
I was definitely the most awkward caver of the group. This went unquestioned by anyone. When we were made to perform death-defying stunts like climbing over muddy spikes and squeezing through tiny rock formations, it became increasingly clear that I was the special needs one. I did it, but with a complete lack of finesse or grace. We got to this one point, which was basically a tiny slit you had to squeeze through sideways, and I could not find a way to do it properly, like the girl who'd done it before me. I gave up. Then another person went through. Oh no, I couldn't have that. I couldn't be the only one in the group to not make it through that death trap. So I tried again, and managed to find my own way, which I wanted to try in the first place, to get through. I had to fall over on my side and lay down, slithering my way out. This is what I saw as the only way. I managed to do it, after which Simon officially honored my 'own very special way of caving' and named me the 'retarded caver.' I was also the only one to fall. Twice.
And after all that physical exertion, we had to climb up a very steep rock face to get out. It looks absolutely impossible when you see the picture, but it's easier than it seems. I shot up the thing like a spider monkey, with only two stops to look around and ponder my next move.
All in all, a blast, and Adam and I feel that we can confidently check off the North Island from our to-see list in New Zealand. We've done just about all you can do in the North Island – the South Island is supposed to be much better. So if I decide to return, expect to hear about me jumping out of planes and off cliffs with only a rope to hold me to this world. And probably pee on my pants.
Edit: trying to add pictures but they only want to go to the top, which is stupid. Will figure out how to use this newfangled contraption later.
1 comments:
1) You always are given the best nicknames of anyone i've ever met. Retarded Caver...hehe!
2)whooooa i feel like i need an update from you..you might not go back? whatever happened with adam? oooh i wish i could see you..
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