Kia Ora and Goodbye: Images and Impressions of New Zealand
And through the miracle of Qantas, I am returned again to Medley Hall. During our week in New Zealand, I engaged in a number of activities that called for more of the famous Emily and Daniel in Funny Hats pictures: I went caving in a terrifying underground cave system that involved swimming through freezing water with rocks an inch above my head (our costume below), I luged, I went white-water rafting on the world’s highest commercially raftable waterfall, and bungy jumping off a cliff into a Lake Taupo gorge. I’m afraid, Siri, that I opted to luge instead of zorb, but I hope you’ll forgive me. I prowled through the cities of Auckland (boring) and Wellington (pretty cool), through the geothermic industrial wasteland of Rotorua, through the tropical perfection of the Bay of Islands, through a Maori village. I spent an afternoon languishing under Whangarei Falls (pictured above), I danced with Maori warriors, and I discovered that New Zealand children are the most adorable on earth.
Funny Hats, continued: Taken before we climbed fifty feet underground for a mile trek through a dark, wet, freezing cave under the supervision of a sadistic guide whose sense of humor, I’m afraid, was lost on us.
Bungy jumping at Lake Taupo.
Taken on the climb to Flagstaff Point, a beautiful summit overlooking the Bay of Islands. Conjures up images of small, furry forest creatures living within.
Getting all Kafka on my ass: Taken at Flagstaff Point. Please ignore the fact that Daniel is apparently turning into some kind of insect.
Rainbow! Taken on the road to Wellington.
A shot of Rotorua, known mostly for a lot of fast food and the place where the Earth’s crust is thinnest; every hole in the ground belches sulphurous steam. Pretty amazing to watch. Lots of geysers.
A Maori concert, given in the township of Te Whakerewarewatanga o te ope taua a Wahiao, simply called Whaka for short.
Auckland’s defining monument, which has the effect of making the skyline look like something out of the Fifth Element at night.
An essential New Zealand scene: Warm, lush green forests in the foreground, snow-capped mountains behind. Very hobbity.
An island in the Bay of Islands, which Daniel and I will colonize one day. He will be the God Waitangi and I will be the Goddess Paihia and we will slay boars. (Yes, we will need to bring our own boars.)
Taken on Cuba Street, the so-hip-it-hurts off-road drag in Wellington.
Overlooking the falls.
My favorite picture of Daniel, ever, taken at Whangarei Falls.
It was nice to find our country where Americans are not the irritating majority of tourists; that honor goes to the Australians, and the Kiwis we met were relentless in their torment of the Ozzies. The Maori people are everywhere, unlike the invisible Aborigines of Australia; they are beautiful, with sharp eyes and cocoa skin. If I had seen one in America, I would guess they were half-black, half-white. At the risk of generalizing, I found that their sense of humor agreed with me tremendously. During our week moving around the island, we stayed in a range of cozy off-road motels and funky city hostels. We drank in friendly bars, which was a very pleasant experience courtesy of the forgiving New Zealand dollar. In terms of beauty, I don’t think anything rivaled the Bay of Islands; though being cold-blooded, I may have been unreasonably biased against the colder parts of the southern areas we went to. Every forest smacked of hobbity goodness.
Notably absent in any conventional natural beauty was Rotorua, which is a fascinating place, though not one I’m particularly interested in returning to; mile after mile of long, busy roads dotted with gas stations, fast food joints, and endless motels. The whole city reeks; one is never far from a sulphur-belching hole in the earth; anywhere you turn, you can see the steam rising. The motel industry capitalized on the prevalence of hot springs by equipping every room with a private Jacuzzi, which suited us just fine in our stay at the Alpine Motel. Daniel and I got out to a proper Polynesian spa and bathed in a proper thermal pool, which turned our legs to jelly and made us stink to high heaven, but was pretty fantastic nonetheless.
It was incredibly hard to get on the plane back to Melbourne; though I have officially come to terms with my love for this city, I challenge anyone to take pleasure in leaving New Zealand. Now that I have fulfilled my life-long dream of bungy jumping, I aspire to go skydiving! Anyway, the point is: Please see New Zealand. Just once. Before you die.
Emily