Getting back on a Stray bus was an interesting experience. Firstly, this bus was much smaller, more like a mini-bus, and could only fit about 20 people, opposed to the big Stray bus we’d been on before that could’ve sat at least 40. Secondly, it was somebody’s birthday, so the bus was covered in birthday decorations (as well as balloons, which became a living nightmare whilst the bus was moving). Thirdly and finally, we met a whole new load of people. Once again, the male to female ratio was in the favour of the women, yet it wasn’t quite as bad as before. There was another large variety in nationalities again though, ranging from English (Team England, YEAH) to German and even further onto… Irish. That was about it. Oh, there were two Americans and an Australian as well, but I think that was it for nationalities.
Either way, the bus was not quite as comfortable as its bigger, and vastly better, counterpart. Still, we made do. We left Rotorua, gratefully leaving behind the smell of sulphur (except for the scent that lingered on some of the Strays), and were informed that our first stop would be another Maori culture night. I can’t say I was particularly disappointed by this prospect, as I enjoyed the first so much, I couldn’t see how this one would be any different. In a way, I was completely wrong. But in others, I was completely right.
The second Maori experience was completely different. Nevertheless it was just as enjoyable as the first. Whilst we were still on the bus, a clipboard was passed around with the possible activities that were available at the Maori lodge. The options were: weaving, bread-making, eeling, and canoeing. Canoeing was an instant no, partly because the weather was being temperamental (as it is in the land of “four seasons in a single day”), but also because I just don’t like canoeing. I also passed up on the opportunity to weave, as we were told that we’d been weaving some sort of plate we could take home, and I knew I just didn’t have enough space to hold it (later we found out that people actually weaved bracelets, not plates). So that left me with bread-making and eeling. Eeling I felt I had to, as they were my newfound least favourite animal. And the bread-making won me over because who doesn’t like bread?
On our arrival, we were greeted by a very bouncy and energetic Maori woman, who had a habit of calling everyone ‘whaanou’, which means ‘family’, or by the unbearable nickname ‘babes’. She was nice, though. She showed us around, explaining where we’d be sleeping (I managed to secure myself a double bed), what they did as a community, and what the plan was for the evening. We were left to ourselves for a while and so went exploring. We ended up finding the most unlikely couple ever: a goat, and an ostrich, named Oz. They were best friends, apparently, and were especially interested in us when they smelt food.
The Maori had a unique way of catering for guests: a hole was dug in the ground and a fire was lit. Then, meat was placed on top on a tray. Blankets were thrown over the food, along with hessian sheets. This was then all buried under more dirt and left for several hours to cook. This was one of the most interesting cooking experiences of my life, but the meat was very good. Following watching holes be dug for food, it was Happy Hour.
Happy Hour, for those who don’t know, is something of a ritual in New Zealand. Each bar you go to, there is usually a Happy Hour, which has a habit of comprising several hours instead of the intended one hour. This “hour” is where you can buy drinks for a discounted price. So, naturally, our Happy Hour at the Maori Lodge, was buy two beers/glasses of wine for $5. I ended up trying a New Zealand beer called ‘Tui’, which was described to me as having a ‘caramel-y taste’. This was complete lies. It was nice, but tasted nothing like caramel. Either way, when I was only half way through my first beer, we were called in to begin our bread-making.
We were told we would be catering for all our group, and the bread would take the form of “fried bread”. Fried bread is just pure heaven. Best bread I have ever had. Baking it was relatively simple as well, and soon we had plenty of bread for the whole “tribe” (we even got to try some with jam and cream whilst ours were frying). After the bread-making was done, we sat back down and socialised, whilst the weaving group went and weaved flax together.
Eventually, it was time for food. I may have over-indulged slightly. Maori always over-cater, as I think I said in my previous post, and I took it upon myself as some sort of challenge to eat as much as I possibly could. This Maori culture use no knives or forks. So dig in with the good old hands and just stuff your face. There was chicken beef, roast potatoes, eel (which I quite enjoyed), sweet potatoes, bread, more bread, and even more bread. Safe to say, I was stuffed by the end of the meal. Then came pudding. My mind is actually drawing a blank on what pudding was, but I definitely ate lots of it.
Eventually, once it was dark (and cold) we went eeling. This was an odd experience to say the least. Firstly, the four boys who went put on waders. Yes, there is a photo, and I shall attach it to this post. Then we all headed down to the river, where we were given some sort of rod (not sure if you could really call it a rod) and some bait. Then the boys waded into the water whilst the girls stayed upon the jetty.
All in all, we caught one eel. Then lost it, because the dog decided to try play with it and pushed it back into the water. I had, over the course of an hour, two bites. Both times the bastard stole my bait and swam away, victorious. However, I did not fall over in the water! So I was quite proud of myself for that.
Last but not least, once we were back at the lodge and all dry, we watched Kill Bill Volume 2, which is always an enjoyable way to end the evening. I actually ended up having the worst night’s sleep I’ve had since I arrived in New Zealand. Though, this has now been shattered by the night’s sleep I had during my first night WWOOFing.
WWOOFing updates comes later I’m afraid. I would write about it now, but there is a lot to write about and I’m sure you’d like to know about it after I’ve actually settled properly. For now, enjoy the lovely pictures I bestow upon you.
A Weary Traveller 