Rotorua II

I think I’ve finally accepted that I don’t really like the tacky tourist things that I thought I did. Most people shy away from the idea of being a typical tourist - but I embrace it. Why act like a knowledgeable local in a place that is actually foreign to you? The goofier the draw to the attraction, the stronger my urge is to see it. However, traveling in a foreign country and forking out the cash for every little thing really makes you think twice about how you spend your days.  And that is how Joe and I travelled to Lake Okataina today.

Upon first arriving in Rotorua, the tourism capital of the North Island, we are enticed by all of the awesome-sounding things to do here. Skydiving, mud baths, fancy food, Maori culture shows, and the one that looked coolest to us - zorb balls (essentially rolling in a giant hampster ball down a hill. I know, it sounds awesome) are hailed as essential stops during our stay.

However, all of those things cost ridiculous amounts of money, and this is a story of two scrappers in New Zealand for way too long to be blowing that much money this quickly. So, open for new, free ideas, we bequest of the owner of the hostel for suggestions, he suggests Lake Okataina, and we head out.

The drive there is completely empty and involved many windy back roads. When we get there there is only one other car in the parking lot, but the lake is absolutely stunning. Our hike is about 5.5 miles to one end and the same back, extremely beautiful the entire time. The water, which we take a dip in several times, is insanely clear and warm. The trail is completely green, and the occasional fallen tree in the middle of the way is much more of a fun obstacle than a neuissance.

Along the trail we actually run into a few Americans. I can tell they are American because the father is discussing 

some matters of the Senate, and no foreigner in their right mind would go so far to try and figure out our politics.  At the end of the trail Joe and I swim for a bit, and eat out edam cheese sandwiches (edam cheese is what they call American cheese here. We didn’t know that at the time of purchase). It sounds cheesy, but the times between or discussions of “best comedy of all time” and “girl from our graduating class you’d most want to bang now,” I am almost overwhelmed by the massive sounds of nature around us. I have never really experienced a place so truly far away from civilization (no cars, planes, people) and so comfortable at the same time. 

We skip rocks for a while, I proceed to tell Joe that I am the best rock skipper I know, and he tells me “skipping rocks sucks”.

Back at the hostel we prepare ourselves a wonderful meal of eggs on top of rice (not too bad), and tonight we’re making plans for our trip down to Wellington. It’s a long trek down, so we may spend tomorrow night in a town along the way. I am currently pushing for hiking up the mountain that was Mt. Doom in Lord of the Rings, but Joe seems less enthusiastic.