Today we left Auckland for the last time, and headed south towards the Waitomo Caves. Along the way, grumbling stomachs insisted on morning tea. We happened across a bakery in a place called Pirongia, which had a vast range of options, all contained some combination of butter, pastry or sugar. It was
good - you should go there (really).
We made it to the Waitomo Caves and got to peek at some Glow worms (life is not good for the adult glow worm, they have no mouths and tend to be eaten by their young). The highlight of the Caves was casting off in darkness in a small aluminium boat, along an underground river. The roof of the cave was covered in small points of light created by the glow worms. It was with much relief that Josh (who has certainly found his voice) deigned not to scream blue murder on our silent trip along the inky river. Instead, he became so relaxed that the occasional drip of stalactites into the water was accompanied by him snoring!
After keeping the kids waiting for aaages (possibly 10 minutes) while feeding Josh, Jen graciously offered to drive to Rotorua. In a continuing trend of selflessness Jen thought she wouldn't trouble us by stopping for petrol along the way. When the petrol light came on and a hurried search on Google Earth found that we were a long way from
anywhere - things became a little tense (I decided not to record Jen's look of concern photographically due to wanting to keep the camera). We eventually made it to a petrol station with no pushing of vehicles involved.
Having been checked in for all of 15 minutes, we were then picked up by a Maori gentleman by the name of "Nutter" on a mini-bus and taken to a Maori concert and Hangi. Nutter supplied us with a steady stream of one-liners punctuated with facts about the area along the way. I also got his entire employment history, as well as his opinion on road rules - hey, I'm a good listener! The ceremony was great, although our bus groups elected "Chief" was an Australian bogan called Wayne (known as 'Wayne-o'), resplendent in a Mullet, stone-washed jeans and white joggers. He happened to be a truck-driver and his girlfriend was known as 'Shaz' (I am not making this up). Hamish became part of the village tour by undertaking one of the traditional games (running along a track of sticks laid on the ground, placing a foot between each). For this he was offered a photo with a couple of the warriors.
We made it to the Waitomo Caves and got to peek at some Glow worms (life is not good for the adult glow worm, they have no mouths and tend to be eaten by their young). The highlight of the Caves was casting off in darkness in a small aluminium boat, along an underground river. The roof of the cave was covered in small points of light created by the glow worms. It was with much relief that Josh (who has certainly found his voice) deigned not to scream blue murder on our silent trip along the inky river. Instead, he became so relaxed that the occasional drip of stalactites into the water was accompanied by him snoring!
After keeping the kids waiting for aaages (possibly 10 minutes) while feeding Josh, Jen graciously offered to drive to Rotorua. In a continuing trend of selflessness Jen thought she wouldn't trouble us by stopping for petrol along the way. When the petrol light came on and a hurried search on Google Earth found that we were a long way from anywhere - things became a little tense (I decided not to record Jen's look of concern photographically due to wanting to keep the camera). We eventually made it to a petrol station with no pushing of vehicles involved. 
Having been checked in for all of 15 minutes, we were then picked up by a Maori gentleman by the name of "Nutter" on a mini-bus and taken to a Maori concert and Hangi. Nutter supplied us with a steady stream of one-liners punctuated with facts about the area along the way. I also got his entire employment history, as well as his opinion on road rules - hey, I'm a good listener! The ceremony was great, although our bus groups elected "Chief" was an Australian bogan called Wayne (known as 'Wayne-o'), resplendent in a Mullet, stone-washed jeans and white joggers. He happened to be a truck-driver and his girlfriend was known as 'Shaz' (I am not making this up). Hamish became part of the village tour by undertaking one of the traditional games (running along a track of sticks laid on the ground, placing a foot between each). For this he was offered a photo with a couple of the warriors.
