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Part
4 - RORATONGA TO NEW ZEALAND
5.3.07
Smooth flight of 8 hours from Rarotonga to
Auckland
,
New Zealand. Our flight touches down at 13.30 Tuesday 6th March – we
lost a day crossing the international dateline. Seems strange, difficult
to get my head round.
We hire a car and find our hotel, the Mercure Auckland, impressively
easily. It’s on the quay and we can walk to restaurants and shops in a
better temperature of 23 degrees. It is Auckland Boat Show tomorrow so
the marina is filled with amazing boats worth more than our house, and
quite a buzz too. On display is the Americas Cup boat, not sure if past
or present, but huge, towering mast and deep keel.
Auckland
looks clean, modern and prosperous from what we can see. Our hotel has a
view of the old customs house and the harbour. Many tower blocks around
us, but across the bay it looks low rise, probably suburban housing.
Dinner at a waterfront restaurant as the sun goes down, very pleasant.
7.3.07
Breakfast in the hotel restaurant with a panoramic view of the harbour
and city. There is a machine for making your own waffles, they are the
most delicious I’ve ever tasted. With fresh fruit and a good cup of
tea, I’m set for the day.
We travel north in our hire car. Pampas grass grows wild in profusion,
and there are more belted
Galloway
cows than we see in Galloway, plus Highland Cattle. There have always
been a lot of Scottish settlers here. As we drive north, tree ferns
become the norm, masses of them. It’s a lovely drive.
Stop at Whangaria for lunch
and to stretch our legs, walking round the small town. From there we
take the ‘scenic’ route to Russell, partly along the coast but miles
of extreme zig-zag bends and by now quite hot. I start to feel extremely
tired and can’t stay awake, the journey seems endless. I know I’m
going to have to pull myself up to get the most out of this part of the
trip, I’m definitely feeling the strain now.
But when we arrive after about 4 hours at the Duke of Marlborough Hotel
on the waterfront at Russell,
it’s ok. We have a spacious airy room, a little old fashioned after
what we’ve been used to, maybe even a little shabby, but it’s the
oldest licensed hotel in the area with Licence No. 1, the first one to
allow trade after the treaty was signed between the British and Maori in
1840.
Russell is a lot like a
New England
waterside town with white clapboard houses, very attractive with much
quiet charm. We walk round before dinner, the sense of peace is
tangible. There is very little noise apart from voices now and then. We
have dinner on the hotel verandah as the sun goes down, lovely with
boats and water and all that pink-gold. I think we’ll enjoy it here.
8.3.07
Decide to have a restful day,
give myself time to recover. Emails and mooching around the small town
in the morning, reading a bit in the room. The peace starts to seep into
me.
Harvey
walks and explores.
In the afternoon we take a boat trip, round the Bay
of
Islands. A terrific boat with throaty engines, we can sense the power in
waiting as we drift slowly along past beautiful islands with the odd
house or two. We learn that the owner of Sky has a holiday home on one,
so lazy that he has a golf cart to take him from the house to the jetty,
maybe a couple of hundred yards. Constructing the way for this involved
making a hole in the rock. We find out that all the holiday homes we see
have resident caretakers, and wonder about security here. We also pass
Dame Kiri Te Kanawa’s house and learn that when she’s at home, she
comes into Russell and has a good old singsong with the locals in one of
the eating places.
Harvey
has bought himself what I call a ‘fair dinkum’ hat, an Aussie style
that buttons up at the sides and has a string under the chin. It’s
exactly what’s needed when we pass the islands and our boat leaps
forward towards the ocean. We are on the top deck where we can see
everything, but the wind whistles round us. Harvey’s hat stays put, but I have to take off my sun visor. The sun is
bright, the waters deep blue, it’s a fabulous feeling.
The boat takes us out to the edge of the bay where there is quite a
swell on the open sea, ‘a gentle pacific swell’ said the
commentator. Oh Yeah! We are clinging on to the rails for dear life. We
are here to go through a hole in the rock, slightly bigger than Richard
Murdoch had made for his golf cart. As we approach it doesn’t look
anywhere near wide enough to take our boat, and the swell makes it
interesting. Once inside the hole and passing through, there is ample
room, but if the approach was designed to scare us, it was effective.
Nearby we see vast shoals of blue fish close to the surface, amazing
sight. The crew keep throwing lines out to catch their supper, the blue
fish are apparently good eating, but even with all those thousands they
don’t succeed in catching a single one.
We are also here to spot dolphins. Our boat gets a message from her
sister boat telling us the location of a large pod, so the engines roar
again and off we go. Takes about 20 minutes to get back closer to some
islands in the bay, and there they are. There are a few babies in the
pod, which excite the crew as much as us. Hard to believe they do this
twice a day. If there are babies in the pod, swimming with the dolphins
is not allowed [some of the boat trips offer that]. A woman crew member
tells me that the mortality rate is high, 50%, in the first two years
for babies. If they die, the mothers don’t give them up, they carry
them on their backs until the bodies start to disintegrate. No one knows
why, but she says it is a sad sight. I like that the crew are involved
enough to care. Some of our ticket money goes to conservation of the bay
dolphins.
Take a lot of photos hoping that one might be ok. My reactions aren’t
fast enough, having to spot them leaping and shoot immediately, plus
there is a slight delay on my camera. Press the button and hope, but
it’s a great experience seeing so many dolphins swimming, many of them
diving repeatedly under the boat. I could swear they are grinning and
friendly. Young males leap out of the water, it looks like sheer joy.
Dinner at a nearby restaurant, a bit nouvelle cuisine, but delicious. We
sit in the open air and the sunset is magnificent.
9.3.07
Breakfast on the hotel verandah, it really is a lovely setting. I could
live like this. Another English woman proceeds to take platefuls of food
from the buffet and make sandwiches. She even goes back to her room and
returns with a roll of foil to wrap the sandwiches for lunch. Brazen.
Emails first, feel better about being in touch now I’m using
Harvey’s address, then take the ferry across the bay to Paihia
where we originally tried to book hotels. They were all full, which
is how we ended up at the Duke of Marlborough. I’m glad we did. Paihia
is nice but bustling and the hotels much bigger, lacking the quiet charm
that permeates Russell. The night there is almost silent except for the
slight shush of the sea. I value that.
We walk round the shops, buy a couple more presents. Everything has to
be small as we are so restricted for weight going home. We have lunch
overlooking the sea of course, and order too much. Our appetite suffers
in the heat, though at least it’s not humid here. Our aim is to see
the Treaty Grounds at Waitangi,
where the British-Maori treaty was signed. We ask at the Tourist
Information, it is about 30 minutes walk. I want to go, but an hour’s
walk there and back, plus all the standing and walking there, puts me
off. Then we spot a little tuk-tuk taxi which takes us out for a very
few dollars.
We book a tour of the Treaty Grounds, and to see the dance troupe, and
we’re just in time. Our guide is the son of a Maori chieftain. He
didn’t get to be chief because he has an older sister who now makes
all the decisions for the family. Women it seems have power, unlike our
royal succession where women wait in line behind the men.
Our guide’s tribe has always lived in this area. Polynesians arrived
here in boats carrying 200 people. They travelled only when the
constellation Plaeides was completely visible in the southern skies,
every seven years. There are 7 stars in the constellation; each year one
star ‘disappears’ from the northern sky and appears in the southern
sky, until for one month only every 7th year, the whole
constellation appears in the southern sky. The movement of people
continued over a 350 year period.
Their homeland or spiritual home is an island or group of islands in the
triangle formed by Easter Island, Rarotonga and Tahiti. Unclear whether this island still exists, ever did exist or is a
mythical amalgamation of several islands. Scientists don’t agree with
the Maori version of events, saying it is impossible to navigate such
distances in canoes with no instruments.
The complement of each canoe was made up of a large number of fathers
and sons, plus a smaller proportion of women. Each family specialised in
one trade and was named for it, just as we have our Coopers and Saddlers
etc. By sending fathers and sons, they ensured the continuance of trades
in their new home. Maoris can trace their genealogy back to the boat
they came on. I like that.
We see a replica canoe, beautifully carved and made in the old way with
large gaps between the wood. It weighs 6 tons. They launch it each
February 6th to mark the signing of the treaty. The wood
swells and the joints close, so there is no need for caulking. The
canoe’s weight increases to 12 tons. Men sit 3 abreast, two paddling,
one resting so they always have fresh people to call on.
The treaty house still stands on the hill overlooking the bay, and there
is a Maori meeting house, usually sacred but this one has never been
consecrated because it was built to be symbolic, so we can take
photographs. Leaving our shoes at the door, we enter an elaborately
decorated and carved space, all wooden surfaces gleaming. Each rafter
contains a design which is in fact a song representing the history of
one family. The symbols are such that they can be read [downwards] by
any Maori. The carved uprights in the walls represent families too, and
the infills are all significant patterns. It has a wonderful feel to it,
in fact the whole place is very peaceful. The grounds are huge and
beautifully kept, and the whole thing is self-supporting, no government
funding.
The symbols predate the written language. When the British came, they
tried to write down Maori language, and ended up with an alphabet of
only 15 letters.
We walk back to the visitors centre just in time for the Maori dancing
which is joyous and wonderful. I love the lilt and the rhythm, and the
haka fascinates me. The young men look so aggressive, veins standing out
in their necks, but the minute it’s finished they are laughing and
peaceful again.
Tattooing was done by cutting with I think slate and rubbing ash in, not
a very healthy practice. The men are still tattooed, though we didn’t
see anyone with facial tattoos, but the women no longer have them, the
last woman being tattooed in the 1960’s according to the guide. I
admire the men’s tattoos, they are exotic and pleasing to my eye. The
reality is that they are symbols of the clan and awards for deeds done,
so that you can read a man’s history in his face. Women though were
only tattooed around the mouth, which somehow doesn’t look so
attractive, but in fact has a lovely meaning. It signifies that
according to Maori culture, God breathed life into woman first. Yeah,
woman power!
Felt very at home with Maori culture, liked their spirituality which
encompasses everything in nature. I like the completeness of it.
Last stop at the shop in the Visitors Centre, buy a little Maori
necklace for Jennifer, the symbol means ‘friends forever’, and a
beautiful card with Maori painting depicting a pregnant woman and a blue
heron. This is for Gordon and Sarah, expecting their first child this
summer. The blue heron is the sacred bird accompanying childbirth. Did
our story of a stork bringing babies come from some similar ancient
belief, now lost?
We walk back to Paihia and take the ferry back across the bay, quietly
satisfied with our day.
When we were planning this trip, we knew we had limited time, so how to
choose where to spend it on the North
Island? We’d seen the Bay
of
Islands
on Billy Connolly’s Round the World Tour of New Zealand, and thought
it looked beautiful and amazing. If we hadn’t seen that show, we
wouldn’t have ended up near enough to go to the treaty grounds and
experience Maori spirituality in the way we did. Strange how it goes.
Dinner back on the hotel verandah, the ‘posh’ enclosed one this
time, where we can dress up a bit.
10.3.97
Too tired for a mooted car trip further north. We’ll be in the car
long enough tomorrow, with an early start. Prefer to mooch and feel the
need to do ‘ordinary’ things, like window shop maybe.
A week today we will be home, and tomorrow Ben and Lou are going to
lunch at Greenmead with Thora and Malcolm. How weird is that?
Harvey
sets out for a walk on the hill, while I walk round to the internet shop
and notice ‘goings on’ in town. Turns out to be a celebration day.
The procession is due to start at 10a.m. Time to send my email and find
a vantage spot. When I come out, the policeman directing traffic says
the procession is delayed until 10.30 then 11 a.m. People are laughing
and saying that’s Russell for
you. Eventually around 11.30 an old red fire engine appears at the
head of trucks and pick-ups carrying Maori kids. A bunch of young Maori
dancers follow, and then some teenagers with batons. In the rear, a few
white kids with dogs on leashes. The dogs are all dressed up in various
costumes. I text Harvey
to come to the square asap, and then watch the proceedings opened by
Auntie Ella with a voice that could be heard all over the Bay, without
the help of the whistling mike. You
will enjoy yourselves, she says. I
know who you are, and if you don’t enjoy yourselves, I’ll be round.
You don’t doubt it for a minute. We all titter obediently.
The dog show comes first. The dogs parade with their owners, looking
either sheepish or belligerent. The dogs, not the kids. One sits with
its back to the audience; well wouldn’t you if you were a rather butch
looking
Labrador
cross wearing a pink tutu? The prize goes to a bull dog cross wearing
Playboy club pink ears. It’s seated so I can’t tell if it’s
wearing the bob bunny tail as well. Each entrant gets a carrier bag full
of goodies, the main treat in each seems to be a pigs ear. No comment.
The teenage dancers line up just as Harvey
appears. He’s delighted to be in time. The dancers perform a fusion of
hip-hop and Maori dance, it’s attractive and lively. These young folk
go round schools in the area teaching younger kids; some of their pupils
appear with them and are excellent.
Next the young Maori dancers line up with two teachers to hand. They
look uncertain. Someone produces a small ceremonial club, all the girls
shy away as if it’s hot. Then one reaches out to take it, and so
another one realises she wanted it all along. Pouting all round, but the
first one hangs on to the club. A girl and boy stand to one side to call
the dancers to order. The girl does a sort of sing-song chant while the
wee lad, no more than 8 years old, struggles to produce a sound from a
conch so big and heavy he has trouble holding it. Nothing comes out
except a strangled gasp. Shame
I hear someone say, he’s been
doing it all morning. I feel for him.
The dancers have a long programme of traditional dances with songs. One
girl at the end of the front row knows both steps and words impeccably,
the others look worried and glance sideways to make sure they are doing
it right. Most of them are. The teacher occasionally hisses the words of
the song, or shuffles the kids around. The boys at the back are big boys
with deep voices and relish the sounds they make, fixing each other with
grim looks. They come to the front to do a haka, the little boys
[including the conch boy, minus the conch] join in when they can. Their
faces have mock tattoos drawn on which are becoming smudged with anxious
sweating and wiping.
It’s a great success and the dancers finally leave to cheers all
round. The hip hoppers come back, and the Maori dancers shuffle into the
audience to watch. A young German woman in the audience starts to make
up her own steps and moves, on the spot, to the music. She is quite
demonstrative in her small space. The impeccable dancer from the end of
the front row, now in the audience, spots her and starts to laugh,
spontaneously copying her moves. She has it down pat in seconds. There
is something heart warming and joyous about her natural rhythm and
spontaneity. They applaud each other when the music stops, bridging
nations.
We wander round the grass square. There is a sausage roast and other
things to eat, the usual variations on raffles and tombolas, and a fresh
lemonade stall. We buy two lemonades, and a couple of pies from the
bakers, and have our picnic lunch on the edge of the water, lucky to
have stumbled on something local and genuine, not for the tourists.
After lunch we drive over to Long Beach
on the other side of the headland for a quick walk. Some lovely houses
all around, any one of which I’d love as a holiday home. Bit far to
come though.
Later in the afternoon,
Harvey
goes off to a community play about the Battle
today’s festivities commemorate.
Last dinner on the hotel verandah, as the sun goes down, amazing fish and
chips. The fish is Dory and it tastes like the best haddock with
wonderfully crispy batter.
11.3.07
Up early to leave for the drive to
Auckland
before 8a.m. We just manage to get breakfast before we leave. Unsure how
long it will take as we are going back via a small ferry, hoping it will
be quicker than the long scenic route we came by. It is; we arrive in
time to drive straight onto the ferry and the crossing of a few minutes
saves us a long drive round the inlet. The journey takes us 3 ½ hours
and is pretty straight forward. Return the car, check in and a problem
free flight. We arrive at the Hilton International,
Brisbane
,
Australia
by 4pm. Very tired.
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Part of Auckland Harbour
Duke of Marlborough, Russell, Bay of Islands
Russell Bay
Bay of Islands Boat trip
the hole in the rock
coming in to Paihia
replica 200 seater canoe at Waitangi,
still launched every 6th February
to celebrate the signing of the treaty
Maori meeting house
Maori dancers at Waitangi
Russell parade
carrying the coveted ceremonial club
next generation
the haka
are we doing it right?
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