Kia Ora from Rotorua

A beautiful view we came upon on our journey from Rororua to Taupo.


Rotorua museum which is in the old bath house where people flocked to take the cure.
View from restaurant on Mount Ngongotaha.
Fionnuala on a luge - Jim was too chicken!
View from the gondola on the way to the top of Mount Ngongotaha.
Inside the Marae - Maori Meeting House.

Maori weaving.
Maori carvings from master craftsmen.
Geothermal landscape.
Bubbling mud pool.

More geothermal landscape.

Views of Pohutu Geyser.
Jim (and other eejits) doing the haka.
Maori singers.
Welcoming committee and peace ceremony.


Entrance to Te Puia.

Our day in Rotorua was one of the highlights of our time in the North Island. We arrived early in the morning to make the most of the day. This was our first real chance to get in touch with the Maori culture. There were many possibilities so we chose Te Puia - the New Zealand Maori Arts and Crafts Institute. Our visit started with a concert of Maori music and dance. This was a complicated activity involving a ceremonial welcome where our group was represented by Chief Jack, a white South African who was randomly chosen and who looked extremely uncomfortable with the role. The group of warriors who were part of the welcoming committee were quite intimidating looking and poor Jack appeared to cower. I think I could have had a more commanding presence but I am a mere woman. The Maori chief and the visitors' chief finally greeted one another with the traditional nose pressing once Chief Jack had respectfully picked up the leaf to symbolise that we came in peace. We processed to the Te Aronui a Rua Meeting House where we removed our shoes before entering. We had been told that all this should take place in a respectful silence but the Japanese hordes paid no heed and jabbered on, pushing and shoving to get the best vantage points. Jim and I were obediently silent! After the lengthy welcoming speeches the concert began. There were action songs, a female poi dance (spinning pom pom-like balls), traditional stick games - one warrior dropped one, which was inexcusable - and of course the famous war dance, the haka. Following this a number of the Manuhiri (visitors) were invited on stage to learn how to do the haka. Jim was one of the warriors chosen - he seems to make a habit of demonstrating traditional dances (in Spain his outfit was flamingo pink - thankfully he did not have to don a woven skirt for the haka). The photos are not great as I had to discover how to turn on the camera and then I just pointed but I was laughing so much I couldn't keep the camera steady.

After the entertainment we toured the centre where there was lots to see. The most spectacular was the geothermal landscape. There was steam arising all over the place and Pohutu, the largest of several geysers in the valley, was erupting. It erupts once or twice an hour continuing to erupt for up to 25 minutes. The eruptions can reach heights of up to 30 metres (90 feet). It was awesome. We also saw the Ngamokaiakoko Mud Pool, so called by a notable chief Koko because its behaviour resembles the playfulness of children. The European name "Frog Pool" was given because of the similarity between the plopping mud and leaping frogs. The photo does not do its plopping justice.

We went into Nga Manu Ahurei, the Kiwi House, where there was 1 kiwi just out of vision going round and round a bush. We could only see the bush moving and the odd glimpse of a kiwi behind. The Kiwi House in Otorohanga was much more imppressive.

After exhausting ourseles in Te Puia we headed for the Skyline skyrides where we took a gondola to the top of Mount Ngongootaha where we had a carvery lunch - gondola and lunch 50 NZ dollars each (around 30 euro which we thought was very good value as the lunch was really good).

Back at sea level we visited Rotorua Museum - Carol must be very proud of our stamina in visiting museums) - which is based in the old Bath House. There we had a spine-tingling cinema experience as we watched the drama of the devastating 1886 Mount Tarawera eruption. A warning before we entered the little auditorium (which was delightfully old-fashioned to start with) told us there would be a lot of noise and flashing lights. Nothing prepared me for the entirety of the experience - somehow they had rigged the seating so that the audience could not just see and hear the eruption but feel it. The first tremor caused me to exclaim, calling on God's help. After that I kept my hand over my mouth as I was not sure what sounds would escape in reaction to the experience. We were fortunate - we survived to tell the tale. Others in 1886 were not so lucky.

We left Roroua having experienced only a little of what it has to offer but very satisfied with our day. We proceeded to Taupo where we spent the night. Across the lake was a high mountain whose peak was snow clad but we didn't get a very good photo as the rain was coming and forced us to shelter in a local hostelry!