Calamity at 20,000 litres above the Sea

When visiting Rotorua before, I happened upon one of the finest establishments I have ever visited. A water park which utilised the area's thermal riches to provide a selection of hydroslides that ran on warm water. I visited on a pretty hot day, but it was still clear to me that you could slide all day, any day, with these. No breeze could give you a chill that would not be soothed the moment you were re-immersed in the cool bath-like temperatures. If it only had an escalator instead of slippery steep steps, it would truly be a wonder of the modern world.

Having found this place simply by spotting its tubes as I drove past, glaring at me like a primary coloured Pompidou, I assumed that Rotorua would be filled with facilities that combined gravity with the power of volcanoes to give me a thrill that excited but never shocked. Little did I know. Roto-vegas, as it has become (not entirely affectionately) nicknamed, has an abundance of Spa pools featuring the warm water, and a cosmos of zorbs, luges, and even agro-cycles for the thrills but the only water park was the one that I now find closed.

Closed for that most lame of reasons, safety. There is still a couple of feet of water in the landing pool, but I doubt that it is still warm. The only patrons now are the dinosaurs. Look closely at the photo. They are there. They used to be the stars what was probably the only reason anyone ever towelled off and put their clothes back on: The Prehistoric mini-golf course next door. Also now out of business.

I have to sign off now. The tears are welling up again. I will try to find some hope in this dark, dry time. Perhaps I will gain solace in the QEII slides at Christchurch. They boast the Colossus; 105 metres, completely dark inside. As well as the Body Bullet, The Cruiser, Titan and the Terror Tube.

What I think about when I am running - Himatangi Beach

6 o'clock in the evening. Set off, music on, set timer on watch...Down the street. It's still pretty hot. A group of boys are messing about with a go-cart, laughing. It's only a short way to the beach, past a couple of streets of baches (holiday homes), all pretty basic and all different. Past Tartz Cafe and the Cosmopolitan Club (The Cossie) where you can get a meal on Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays. Although I don't think there will be much for veggies – we'll see tomorrow – and onto the beach. People don't stop in the carpark and walk to the beach here, they just drive on and park up! We spent the afternoon here running in and out of the waves. Jay had a great time and Theo had his first sit on the beach – yes, he did eat sand. Only a couple of cars around now though, which way shall I go? Left, up to the sea's edge and along. A wide expanse of flat sand bordered by dunes and wood that has been twisted and worked by the elements into fabulous shapes. The beach stretches as far as I can see and it feels like it was made to run on. Fifteen minutes in and Amy Winehouse is providing the soundtrack. I turn and look down the beach to go back, There is nobody in sight. It is so beautiful I laugh out loud.

Tofu Luncheon Frogs

Now I didn't come here to start disrespecting the national traditions. I really enjoyed the Auckland anniversary. We spent it in the Devonport barrio of Auckland and had a fantastic view of the Harbour where everyone who has a boat had taken their boat, while everyone who doesn't have a boat had camped up next to the water to watch all the boats through binoculars. More specifically, we were on the North Point, a dormant volcano on the coastline that not only affords a fantastic view, but also has lots of dormant heavy artillery and bunkers and tunnels to climb on, run through, etc. When asked why the olde folk may have decided to build their defences atop a large hill, Jay hazarded a guess: 'Because there's a massive cannon up here?' Got to ask the right questions, I suppose.

Also, its Waitangi day tomorrow, its a national day celebrating a treaty between the Crown and the Maoris, which the Crown went on to renegue on and take all the land anyway. Major rioting used to be the order of the day back in the 70's but Annie's friend Pete now works for Ministry of making up for bad Treaties. Its a slow process, but the will does seem to be there now.

But I can not see how this turgid piece of browny-orange tofu with tiny bits of pepper and carrot embedded in it forms any part of a tradition. So I'm going to feel perfectly ok about totally dissing it, without any fear that I may be oppressing some minority who have been ritually eating this stuff for generations. I have tried it raw, fried, and barbecued, but it always tastes unsurprisingly dry, flavourless and almost instantly becomes little threads of perished rubber on the roof of my mouth. I knew that the chances of being offered a range of vegetarian repasts in the one supermarket in Foxton (100k north of Wellington's more tolerant approach to vege sausages) was likely to be slim, but I expected to at least get some pre-mixed felafel.

On the plus side though, I have discovered Tiramisu Toffee Pops. No description required. They're just good. You know they are.

Himatangi Rocks

We are just coming to end of our stay in Himatangi. Our reason for visiting is a common one on this trip, we were offered some free accommodation. Annie's friend Chell offered us her bach (NZ word for a house three times the size of our old flat in london) and said that the 'settlement' of Himatangi was stuck in the 70's. Note the use of 'settlement', not 'town', 'village' or even 'resort'. So far, so concerning.

But after a few nights here, the one thing we know is that we will be returning. The beach is fantastic. Big spiky seed pods get blown from the dunes across the huge, flat sand. Signs warn that the beach is a road, but there really are hardly any cars.

I have been warmly welcomed by the local Karate aficionados. I noticed in the local info pamphlet, the Beach Press, that the JKA meets at the community centre and is open to anyone over 8. I fit that criteria, so went along. Good group with an enthusiastic Sensei, who after we had worked on the punchbag, invites all-comers to punch him in the stomach as hard as they can. Well I couldn't come close to hurting him, so why shouldn't he?

The Cosmopolitan Boating Club is the place to hit in the evening. It's basically a pub, but it asks you to sign in and there does seem to be a Constitution. We were told that they did a meal on Wednesday nights. I was expecting to stay for a beer, thinking the meal was unlikely to appeal. There was actually a fully functioning kitchen and we had some fine fresh fish and chips followed by homemade Brownies and Cheesecake. And then you are expected to scrape your leftovers into a bucket and take your plates back to the kitchen, so there's no airs and graces about the place.

We have recently missed the Miss Himatangi 2009 contest at the Cosmopolitan Club, and shall be missing the Sand Castle Sculpturing Compo this weekend. I am really hoping we can get back for when the Cozzy hosts 'Himatangi's got Talent'.

Maranui Surf club

The Maranui Surf and Life Saving Club is a proper Beach cafe. It is on the Beach, and it's a cafe. I don't mean it's some kind of kiosk on the beach, It's a proper building. The Clubhouse for the surf club has a cafe on the first floor. It's surrounded by sand on three sides, and by the road on the other. Fantastic views of the rough waves crashing onto the sand and planes taking off from the airport just further on.

I didn't select the tradesman's special. I thought it would probably be fraudulent or disrespectful or both. I took the Victory Breakfast, which consists of 2 bits of 5 grain toast with 2 poached eggs; some grilled mushrooms with a kind of whole nut pesto stuff with big almonds in it; you've then got a side of spinach, a side of guacamole, some rosemary potatoes, and a few grilled tomatoes. What exactly I'm supposed to win after that I'm not sure, but I certainly felt like I deserved a trophy.

Oh my gosh! As I write, there has just been an earthquake! A bit of a rumble, like a train going past (of which there are none) followed by quite a thump to the building. Nothing on the news about it yet so presumably pretty minor. Must... publish... information... about... breakfast.......

Student House in Wellington

We are now down the South end of the North Island, in Wellington, the capital city in that the government is based here, but not the biggest city, that is Auckland, where we were last week. We spent a few nights just outside town in a house right by the water. You park your car at the top of the hill and then descend a variety of unstable steps to actually reach the house. The residents moved their furniture in by boat, and this is definitely the best idea. Carrying our luggage back up all the crazy steps is making me concerned about the fact that we may stay there again in a couple of weeks.

Nice to be next to the water though, and to exercise my naval skills. We had use of a craft so I donned my captain's cap and taught young Jay a lesson or two in nautical theory. We got about half way to our target of a buoy out in the briny stuff, but I could see that others had managed to get as far from the coast as us just by walking in to the inlet that we were kayaking in. Jay still has a bit to go before getting his full pirate qualifications as he didn't really like getting his bottom wet, so we haven't been back out in it yet.

Into Wellington city for the last couple of days though, and we're staying in a big house overlooking the bay – view pictured above. The result of one of Annie's friend's brother's hospitality. We have a six bedroom townhouse to ourselves. It is normally occupied by a bunch of students, I think, but they are all away or staying somewhere else or something. So we've been taking in NZ culture by sitting in cafes down by the harbour whilst keeping in touch with UK culture by watching Alan Partridge videos in the evening. A ha.

Its Here

It's here, and its been working smoothly for a couple of days now. Its high in comfort, high in style, and the driving position is quite high off the ground too. Various seats fold up in the back meaning it can swallow all our luggage without a problem. Another configuration of seats means there's a kind of flatish bed sized area. But we are yet to try sleeping on it, so I'll save judgement on that for later.

Its Automatic, systematic, etc. It has coped with driving on a beach and with doing a long cross country run. It has a superb cassette player and we are grooving to Talking Heads. It has a total of 12 windows including a Sun and a Moon roof. If anyone knows what the Overdrive button on the gear stick is for, let me know.

What's also required from you is some help in naming the new guy. All our suggestions revolve around it being black and the first car we've ever owned so are based around the world's new overlord. Can we get away with calling our car Barack Obama? Should we? I prefer 'The Barack Obama' rather than giving the car a personal name. The Obamamobile is too alliterative. The Presidential Suite describes the car well, but doesn't slip off the tongue well enough for everyday use. Car force 1? El Presidente? Help us out, let us know your favourite derivation on the new World Leader's moniker, or just tell us to stop being so racist now that we've left london.

Full tribute to the vehicle is available on Youtube.