On Saturday morning, we flew from Christchurch to Rotorua, a good sized city (70,000) in the middle of the North Island. However, the first trick of the day was returning our rental car. We drove around twice looking for the return place, finally in frustration parked our very dirty car in what looked like the pickup place, dragged ALL our luggage (we have discovered that we overpacked) into the terminal, found the Budget desk, waited in line, and discovered that we had done what you are supposed to do. They don’t check the car for dings, or check the odometer, or check the gas tank. Next task was to check in and weigh our luggage. (As I related before, on domestic flights, you are allowed 25k/bag. If it is over 25k, it simply doesn’t fly.) We found another family in disarray by the scales, shifting items from bag to bag. The mom watched as Mark hefted our heaviest bag onto the scale. We held our breath--24.9k!! We were jubilant, she was incredulous!
The flight was easy with good visibility. Picked up our new rental car and headed for a waterfront park on the edge of Lake Rotorua in downtown. We unpacked our picnic lunch and found ourselves surrounded first by lovely black swans (hundreds on this lake) and then by aggressive, cheeky geese who chased the swans away. We ate guardedly. After packing away our food, we sat looking at the map and, voila, there appears a young woman in official clothing asking if we have any questions! Her job is to roam around and help tourists!! Following her suggestion, we headed for the other end of the lake to an area the Maori call Whangapiro or the "evil smelling place". Good name. The whole area around Rotorua is known for its thermal activity and does indeed smell of rotten eggs/sulfur. We walked briefly through the stark landscape of steaming holes, bubbling mud pits, and milky lakefront. Nearby were manicured gardens, croquet and bowling greens, modern and historical hot water spa facilities, and a large neo-Tudor (according to the guide book) Bath House that is now the Rotorua Museum of Art and History.
Museum of Art and History
By this time, we were beginning to flag. Time to head for Putaruru. It ended up being about a 40 minute drive west through rolling hills of pastures and farmland. On arriving and after several phone calls, we met one of the clinic nurses who led us to our rental house.
Pros: charming bungalow filled with mementoes from the landlady’s years spent owning and running a farm in Zimbabwe, washer AND dryer, lots of space and light, surrounding gardens, views to cow pasture. Cons: after everyone left us we discovered that the stove had run out of gas (runs off a tank), the house had not really been cleaned after the last locums doc left, the TV didn’t work, no microwave, and the house was full of little flies (compliments of no screens). We now also know that the close neighbor’s rooster loves the morning. We have remedied everything except the rooster……
The flight was easy with good visibility. Picked up our new rental car and headed for a waterfront park on the edge of Lake Rotorua in downtown. We unpacked our picnic lunch and found ourselves surrounded first by lovely black swans (hundreds on this lake) and then by aggressive, cheeky geese who chased the swans away. We ate guardedly. After packing away our food, we sat looking at the map and, voila, there appears a young woman in official clothing asking if we have any questions! Her job is to roam around and help tourists!! Following her suggestion, we headed for the other end of the lake to an area the Maori call Whangapiro or the "evil smelling place". Good name. The whole area around Rotorua is known for its thermal activity and does indeed smell of rotten eggs/sulfur. We walked briefly through the stark landscape of steaming holes, bubbling mud pits, and milky lakefront. Nearby were manicured gardens, croquet and bowling greens, modern and historical hot water spa facilities, and a large neo-Tudor (according to the guide book) Bath House that is now the Rotorua Museum of Art and History.
Museum of Art and History
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