This guy is possibly the biggest fucking douche in the Southern Hemisphere. And will go on to compete against the Northern Hemisphere champion.
He is John our bus driver, and he seemed to take immense delight in telling everyone that he would leave if you were one second late, and he continued to comment on his disdain for certain professions, ethnicities, and political concepts. Meanwhile his commentary on the local disused power station was stimulating. Not just a dick, but a boring dick.
We went to the Glow Worm caves. Anne was up for it until the guide used the word maggot. Then she could not get out quick enough. It's pretty one-note in it's attraction. Sit on boat in pitch black caves, look up, worms glow. Exit.
In Rotorua our hotel smells of rotten eggs, but that's because it is sat next to a volcanic site, and offers spa treatments using what are essentially disgusting stinky elements.
It is raining. Like a bastard. But we are still enjoying ourselves and preparing for a night of Maori culture.
I write this ahead of the event. The Maoris ... Fuck them. I've had an assful of their pre game Haka. Were supposed to be all respectful of their customs, that is basically a hugely camp theatrical dance that is meant to scare us all. It doesn't, but if I laugh, swear or even yawn I'm the bad guy?
Could be a good night ...
... later, well it was actually a great night. The Haka went off without annoying me too much, and the singing and dancing was all in good spirits. The traditional feast (Hangi) cooked in earthen ovens was the best food of the trip so far.
On the way back the coach driver made each nationality sing a song. The French guy turned to the coach and said, "Anybody know Edith Piaf?" The stony silence told the story as he meandered into a solo rendition of La Vie en Rose.
I managed to be English when the Americans sang and vice versa.
So the Maori people won me over, and New Zealand beat the Aussies at Rugby. Two big wins for the Land of the Long White Cloud.