8th of the 8th!
This morning we did the whole Rotorua mud and volcano thing.
Sulphur pong abounds, but the whole thing is like a mini Iceland.
The Maoris seem to dislike using contractions.
Anne touched the close-to-boiling hot water, because she loves a challenge. I didn't, because I don't.
The airport at Rotorua demands that you check in 30 minutes before departure! So here we are sipping coffee and waiting for the plane to arrive slap bang in front of us. We will probably even see our bags load. The terminal has a big Kia Ora sign on it. In Maori it is a pleasant greeting. In England it is a cheap concentrated Orange drink.
A quick stop in Christchurch and then onto Queenstown. We bumped into an American couple who were going bungy jumping. I felt old when I told them we we going on a fjord cruise instead.
The old theme would continue, but firstly how about this for a view from our hotel window? Queenstown is the hip-daddy-o ski-board, danger-sport capital of the Southern Hemisphere. Bars full of youngsters drinking beer and saying whatever the NZ equivalent of 'dude' is (it may be 'dude').
Dinner was the worst Mexican food I have ever had, and I've had Mexican food in England.