Day 5 (Tuesday 6th May 2009) – Close encounters

It was still dark when I woke up that morning. No more delirious about seeing sunrise, I left the apartment just to see the morning light. I was somehow obsessed about seeing the first light of the morning. Dark cloud loomed overhead. The street was deserted. I could lie down in the middle of the road if I wanted to. Soon it started to drizzle. Not wanting to get sick, I quickly return to the warmth of the apartment.

Realizing the busy day ahead of us, we cooked a heavy breakfast – fried rice, frankfurter, hash brown, omelets, and instant curry puff. We finished the rice and packed the rest of the food for lunch. The previous night, we had decided to start the day early. Ma Hen, AD and I had bought our passes from an agent in Malaysia. We had the option of picking up the passes at the any of the attraction’s entrance. D on the other hand, hadn’t got any passes.

D had tried to call the agent earlier to book her passes. Unfortunately, the number listed on our itinerary wasn’t the right number. I was the first to drive that day. I have to admit, after a ‘horrifying’ drive in town to search for the tourist information counter, it was decided that I shouldn’t be driving in town. At the information counter, D found out that she couldn’t get any special rate and would have to purchase the passes at each of the entrances.

We decided to go to the local travel agent to try to arrange for an additional person. We punched in the address into the Samseng, and off we went. Some turns, and stops later, we drove into a housing area, complete with school kids in uniforms going to school that morning. I was surprised to spot some kids were wearing only sandals in this cold weather!

Anyway, the Samseng took us to an ordinary looking house. The door was closed. We pondered. Should we just go knocking the door and ask? Not to alarm the house owner if the four of us went barging the door, we decided that D and Ma Hen should go first. It turned out to be the right address. The man in his 50s conducted his business mostly online and in wholesale. We were probably the first customers to arrive in front of his door.

We punched in the destination into the Samseng, and drove off. Our first stop: Te Puia. We parked our car at the deserted car park. We made our way on foot to the main entrance, passing a lot of wood carving along the way. After about five to ten minutes walk (plus photo taking), we finally reached the entrance. To our disbelief, there, opposite the ticket booth, was another parking lot. We exchanged our passes at the ticket counter. We decided to go for the cultural show for additional NZ$10. I was glad we made that decision.

As told by the ladies at the ticket counter, we waited at the meeting point. There we were joined by fellow tourists. There were a bunch of guys from UK, some ladies assumed to be from Australia, a bunch of people assumed to be from China, and an old mother-daughter pair from Malaysia. Not long after the mother-daughter pair were ushered into a building in front of us, a lady dressed in traditional Maori clothes - complete with fur cloaked over her shoulder and three of what looked like hawk’s feathers slid in her hair - came. She briefed us the dos and don’ts. She asked for a guy to volunteer to be our impromptu chief. We were all considered as a visiting clan.

Soon after the ‘safety’ briefing, the lady who in everyway looked like a chief daughter, stood by our clan chief. Everyone else stood behind our chief. Then came an angry looking Maori man, running towards us, all the while screaming on top of his lung. He stood a few feet from us, still screaming and making menacing faces, and waved his wooden weapon. While the Maori man was doing the “karanga” - the screaming and the waving of his wooden weapon - no one from the visiting clan was allowed to make noise. Making noise would mean that we were answering the Maori man’s cries for war.

He then placed a leave in front of our chief, who picked it up as a sign that we came in peace. For health reason (it was the beginning of H1N1 pandemic), they had to forgo the traditional ‘rub-nose’ greeting. We then proceed to walk slowly and quietly behind our chief to the building where the mother-daughter had earlier disappeared into. The building is a traditional meetinghouse. Traditionally it is the centre of the community – meeting and decisions were made in the house. So the meetinghouse or “Marae”, is considered as somewhat sacred. We had to take off our shoes.

The door opened to a huge hall. There was a stage at the end of the hall with plastic chairs lined up in rows upon rows. The ‘chief daughter’ explained that traditionally, guests were expected to sit on the floor. However, since some guests have knee problems and can’t sit on floor, they put in the chairs. The walls were covered with what looked like weaved bamboo or leaves. The ceilings and beams are covered with carved panels. They were beautiful.

The ‘chief daughter’ went up the stage with a bunch of Maori ladies. They sang some songs in Maori language. Though I couldn’t understand a word of it, they were beautiful. I could almost see river flowing, trees swayed and flowers blew by the wind, in my head. Then the ladies brought out a pair of string with cotton balls attached to it. They performed a traditional dance, which involved swinging the cotton balls around. They even invited the female audiences to try. Ma Hen and D grabbed the opportunity and tried. They now can proudly claim that they had become an international dancer and had performed in front of an international crowd!

Next, some Maori men went up the stage and joined the Maori ladies. They sang a love song. They all looked peace-loving and gentle singing these beautiful songs. But mind you, the minute they performed the famous Hakka dance, all the serene and gentle look went out of the window. Their sweet voice instantly changed to war cries. Even the all-smile and fragile looking ladies transformed into monsters with tongues sticking out and big wide eyes staring down upon you! They then invited the male audiences to join the Hakka dance.

Another love song followed and before we knew it, the 45 minutes show was over.

After the cultural performance, we went along a guided tour of Te Puia. The guide did say her extremely long Maori name, which she simplified for us as Te. Te, half Maori half Scottish, was born and grew up in Te Puia.

Before Te Puia was turned into some sort of cultural complex, it was actually some sort of a village. People actually live and play there. As we walked around passing geysers, mud pools, hot springs, and streams, Te told us stories of her growing up in the area. They used to catch Cray fish from the warm streams then dipped and cooked it in the hot spring near by. They also used to jump up and down next to the geyser.

We sat on “hot rocks” facing the Prince of Wales Geyser. In the cold temperature, the "hot rock" warmed our gluteus maximus. Te told us about how, growing up, she used to think everyone was like her and experiences what she experienced. She admitted that she was more Maori than she was Scottish. She dislike the uptight structure of her Scottish side. She told us how she and her siblings had to sit straight and be ‘prim and proper’ when she was in her Scottish Gram’s house. The minute they left Gram’s house, they would all run wild! It was very intimate sharing. I could see the sparkle in her eyes as she told these stories.

We continued walking towards Maori Arts & Crafts Institute. Located within the compound of Te Puia, this institute was founded to ensure the Maori arts and crafts continued to be passed on to younger generation. There is a foundation giving scholarship to deserving Maoris to study arts and crafts in the institute. Upon entering the wood carving workshop, the first thing that caught my eyes were the hot tattoos on a Maori's arm. Next was the carving that he was working on.

Te was quick to explain that the carvings and the idols we saw around the complex compound are not totems. They are merely panel carvings. Maoris believe God is too great to be portrayed as carvings. And human is not worthy to portray his or her Creators in any way. The carvings are mostly portrayal of their ancestors. The carvings on the boat on the other hand, tell the story of the whole clan. The boat was carved out of a single tree and traditionally each clan has its own boat.

We stopped by the weaving workshop next door. These ladies weaved the leaves into among others, the skirts worn by the female Maoris performers earlier. They use a kind of screw-pines (‘mengkuang’) leaves that grew in swampy area there.

We thanked Te for her insightful stories and left Te Puia. We headed back to our motel for lunch and to pick up some things.

Day 4 (Monday 5th May 2009) – Sunrise and seafaring legs

While the rest of the gang was still fast asleep, I got up. The sun was just rising. Wanting to be one of the few people on earth to first see the sun rise for a new day, I quickly wore my winter jacket. While I wore wool socks, I had no long-john underneath my track-bottom. I figured that it would only take a while and I would return to the room if it get too cold. I took the keys and left everyone.

I jogged to edge of water and sat on a spot at the dock. Imagine my disappointment when I realized I couldn’t see the sun rises from the horizon! There were masses of land at the horizon. Never the less I stayed to watch how the beautiful colours of the sky changed as the sun rose that morning. Surprisingly the wind-proof material of the track-bottom meant that the cloth trapped some air, enough to insulate some heat for my legs. Much later I discovered (after examining the map) that the dock wasn’t exactly by the sea. The water that was in front of me that day was actually a river mouth.

When I returned to the apartment, everyone was still asleep. It was some times later when finally everyone woke up. We prepared breakfast – hash brown, frankfurters, scrambled eggs and omelets. Once fueled, we packed all the leftovers. We cleaned all the glassware and cooking utensil; stored everything back in the kitchen and pack our bags. By default, the task of fitting everything into the small car fell on me. Everyone brought everything down to the car park while I figured out what fit where.

It was still early by the time every thing was packed and stored in the car. We decided to take a drive through town. There were some shops already opened that early morning. I bought a lip balm – my lips had begun to chap due to the cold temperature and wind. We also stopped by the beach and took photos.

We went back to the motel. Checked the apartment to make sure we didn’t leave anything, and went to the lobby to checkout. We also registered ourselves for the tour at the counter (registering, in this case, included signing a non-liability). I do not know if the rest of the gang read carefully what we signed that day. Under New Zealand law, you can’t sue any tour / adventure operators for any mishaps that might befall you. Basically we signed our lives away that day. After all the paper works and legality, we were given ‘tickets’. Interestingly, instead of being given one of those use-once-than-throw-paper-tabs as tickets, we each was given a small metal funnel as our tickets.

We went to the dock – the place that I had sat earlier that day, handed our ‘tickets’ and boarded the boat. Due to the force of nature, we were delayed. We had to wait for the tide to come. The water was too shallow for the boat to move safely. When the boat finally moved, we were excited. We sat outside the lower deck. There was a Caucasian couple there. We passed a landmark – statue of Wairaka - perched on top of a hill at the mouth of the river. Over the speaker, one of the crew explained the significance of the statue.

According to legends, the native people of Whakatane came from the sea in canoe called Mataatua. The women, children and the olds were left on the canoe while the men went inland in search of fresh water and food. In the absence of the men, the canoe began to drift into the open sea. Amidst the panic, the chief’s daughter, Wairaka, took charged. She yelled “Whakatane” which means “act like a man”. All women banded together and row the canoe to safety.

Anyway, not long after that, the boat crew handed out a piece of bread (with margarine spread on it) and a cup of pumpkin soup. We first ate the bread and the soup separately, but soon realized that they taste better together. In true Asian style, we dipped the bread into the soup before eating the bread. The Caucasian couple saw what we did. Before long, they too did the same!

Out in the open sea, the smooth boat ride quickly changed into a bumpy one. Before long, Ma Hen looked a little pale. We decided that she best went in, which thankfully she did. The crew took care of her. With the ride getting bumpier, and seawater splashing from the sides of the boat (the crew gave us each a towel), AD decided to join Ma Hen. Only D and I left, enjoying the winds and splashes on the open deck.

One and a half hour later, the boat anchored near an island, our destination: White Island. We were each given a hardhat and a facemask. D was the first to board a smaller rubber boat that took us to the old jetty on the island. On the island, first we were given a safety briefing and a little background of the island.

The safety briefing was simple:

1. Follow the guides.
2. Always wear the yellow hardhat.
3. In case of eruption (yes, we were on a volcanic island), do not run to the open beach hoping those on the boat will save you – they’ll long be gone by then. You are to take cover behind the biggest boulder or structure you can reach. Flying hot debris most likely to cause death than hot flowing lava. Now you see why I said we signed our lives away!
4. If, in the end we survive the eruption, calm down, avoid any flowing lava and wait for help.

Don’t worry, help will come, eventually. There are a bunch of volcanologists actively monitoring the island via life feed from video camera installed at the edges of cliffs above our heads. We were given sweets to help clear our throat if they became irritated by sulphurous air. After the safety briefing, we trekked the island making many stops, allowing the guide, Karen, to describe things.

There was too much ‘smoke’ that day for us to see the acidic lake that had formed in the one of craters. Long time ago, sulphur was mined of this island. One of the miner went missing, only his boots were found at the edge of the acidic lake, which sparked a speculation on whether he accidentally fell or committed suicide? The mystery was never solved, for no body was found – the acidic water corrodes every thing in a flash. The mine has long been closed. But the island remained the private property of the Buttle family.

While trekking back to the dock, it hit me (no, no flying debris hit me), the cliffs above our heads were actually the edge of the main / bigger crater. We were trekking inside the main crater! Anyway, we cleaned our shoes before boarding the boat home.

The four of us sat on the upper deck. The crew handed out our sandwich lunch. The sea was getting choppier as we made our way back to the main land. In the distance, I could see storm brewing. I had finished my food, was bouncing and holding tight to the railing, when Ma Hen felt queasy, again. I quickly got on my feet and got down the stairs.

The boat was bouncing when I lost my footing. I had my eyes focused on the wooden lower deck floor underneath me. In that split second, I knew, if I fall, I would hit headfirst and could probably break my neck. And in that split second, I managed to grab the hand railing on my right. So instead of falling head first, I managed to swing to the deck floor and landed on my feet. The crew must have seen me for by the time I landed, they were already at the door! Above the noises (from the waves splashing the boat and the sound of the engine), I managed to tell them about Ma Hen. They quickly went up and brought Ma Hen into the closure of the lower deck (where more people were feeling sick).

The boat continued to rock and bounce in the choppy water. It began to drizzle. The cloud became darker. I was glad we reach the mainland in more or less two hours later! On the dock, we dramatically and exaggeratedly hugged each other, saying we survived the volcanic island and the rough boat ride.

At the motel lobby, the staff was surprised to hear that I was okay with the rough ride (perhaps I looked the most skinny and frail in the tour group). I told them most who sat on the upper deck were okay. She said we all had strong stomach.

I took the wheel. It was about 5pm when we left Whakatane for the town of Rotorua. Before long, the night fell, and we were driving along dark winding road. I could smell anxiety in the air. I didn’t blame them. We were driving along a dark foreign road. Except for the “Expected Arrival Time” as calculated by the Samseng, we were clueless on how much longer the drive was. However, I was calm. I have done this – driving along a dark unfamiliar road – a number of times. At least this time I wasn’t alone.

Anyway, two hours later we safely arrived BK’s Rotorua Motor Lodge. We checked in and unloaded our bags into the one room apartment (two single beds in place of sofa in the living area). We needed additional ingredients for dinner. AD stayed behind to prepare food. The rest of us went in the car and Ma Hen drove to the mall across the road. After buying what we needed, Ma Hen and D, took the car for refueling. I, on the other hand, walked back to the motel.

Dinner consisted of spaghetti. We discussed our plans for tomorrow, then went to bed.

Distance traveled: approx. 100 km on sea & 107 km on land

Day 3 (Monday 4th May 2009) – Swayed and narrow road

No we didn’t swayed to the song of Michael Buble. However the car did swayed a little bit to the left, then a little bit to the right. That was how Ma Hen drove that day. AD and I bit our tongue and said nothing about it throughout the drive. To our consolation, Ma Hen did maintained the car in the correct driving lane. We passed the town of Paengaroa and reached the town for Whakatane safely about an hour later.

We followed the GPS direction and arrived at our first motel, White Island Rendezvous. Our room, nay, in a way, it was more like a two-room apartment. There were kitchen, complete with all the basic utensils and glassware; dining area; and living room equipped with television.

We saw pamphlet of Ohiwa Oyster Farm. A seafood-fanatic, I quickly agreed when the rest of the gang decided to eat out instead of cooking. Having shared our mutual concerns regarding Ma Hen driving, it was my turn to drive.

We punched in the address into the Samseng, and off we went. Before long, we were driving along a narrow winding road in the dark! I can see worries in the eyes of my traveling buddies. The route to my office involve narrow and winding roads too. Except for the a slightly higher slope gradient, the route was similar to the route to my office. So I had no problem maneuvering the car.

After making a wrong turn, we finally reach our destination. We thought we were going to eat oyster in a proper restaurant. The shop was a small wooden ‘hut’ that stood at the fringe of Ohope Beach seeming out in nowhere. There was no one else. I parked the car. We placed our order of mix deep-fried seafood – oyster, mussels, squids and fish – in batter served with fries and dips. There were benches overlooking the lagoon. We sat there to wait for our food.

While waiting for food, another car came. A middle-aged lady came out of the car, placed her order and went back into the car to wait. We on the other had, endured the cold weather and sat on the benches. To kill time, well, you guessed it, took loads of photos. Even when to food was finally ready, we took photos of the food before we sank our teeth into the hot fresh seafood. We soon finished the dips. Since we needed to pay for additional dips, we packed the remaining food and headed back to our motel.

We stopped at a designated scenic lookout. We wanted to take photo to capture the sunset and a mountain at the background. Unfortunately, the low-light situation confused the cameras’ sensors. When I finally got the manual setting on my camera right, it was already too dark to see the background. Unable to further stand the bone chilling-cold temperature, we quickly returned to the warmth of our apartment to finish our dinner – needing our chili sauce to accompany the dinner.

I slept as soon as I tucked myself in the warm bed.

Distance traveled: approx 92km