The Correlation with Corrugation

On Monday morning we gathered our things to head to Rotorua (for those over 40:  "and away go troubles down the drain, Roto-rua") and the Coromandel.  We were excited about the trip but also filled with a bit of trepidation.  Going through security in Denver, a TSA lady noticed that my drivers license had expired.  In Colorado, licenses expire after 5 years on your birthday and no notice is given.  Ok, I know you're thinking no big deal, but since Debbie's and my birthdays are only two weeks apart, her license had also expired.  Oops.

We had rented a car from Avis and for our first two days in New Zealand had been devising some way to get by unnoticed.  Plan A was to have Debbie go in and get the car.  In our infinite cleverness we thought that an unsuspecting Kiwi would read her birth date -- 2/5/59 -- as May 2 and not notice that the license had expired.  Plan B was to take Megan's car and have her drive the rental car for the week (a less clever and less sexy alternative to be sure).  Debbie approached the counter confidently with some standard pleasantries and general chit chat.  I cowered outside.  The Avis lady got the reservation and started typing in the info and then paused and said, "wait a minute, you use the month first in your dates, it looks like your license has expired."  Debbie made some noises about the expiration not really taking effect until the end of the month (even though it expressly says "Expires On XX Date") and that her new license was in the mail but hadn't come yet.  And, in a common display of New Zealand kindness, the woman said, "I just won't type anything in there."  Whew, Plan C executed brilliantly!  We drove away with a shiny new Toyota 4 Runner, outlaws with expired licenses and continually flaunting any laws requiring the use of turn signals (I did, however, make sure to turn on our windshield wipers when making virtually every turn all week [some of you may need more time to think about this]).

Megan had given us very definite instructions with detailed directions to the effect to "look for some cheese place in some small town that serves great food for lunch."  Uncertain just where that might be we stopped to get a coffee and snack along the road a little out of Auckland.  Sated, we got back in the car and headed on.

Not really sure what we were looking for (despite that excellent description), we entered the town of Waharoa, and waharoa, what did we see?

You guessed it, the Kaimai Cheese Company, serving legendary cheeses and superb lunches.  They made a wide variety of cheeses on premises, which we couldn't resist sampling and taking with us for later in the day:

The road to Rotorua went through a number of small towns, one of which is Tirau.  Now, most of you know me as a deeply religious man.  So, it will probably not surprise you to learn that I had an intensely spiritual experience there.  We were just driving along, enjoying the scenery, when lo and behold (notice the Biblical "lo" to set the tone) an image appeared in the distance:

Debbie and I have been to the great cathedrals in Europe.  We have seen massive churches in South America.  We have even seen the Pope giving services at the Vatican.  But nothing had quite prepared us for this.  You simply cannot imagine how moving a Lord Is My Sheppard theme in corrugated iron can be.   Especially, when after wiping away our tears of awe and joy we were also able to witness His flock:

Now, most of you know Sara as a deeply religious young woman.  So, it will probably not surprise you to learn that she had an intensely spiritual experience at our next stop:  Rotorua.  We were just driving along, enjoying the scenery, when lo and behold (notice the Biblical "lo" to set the tone) an image appeared in the distance:

We had entered the Promised Land.  Need I say more?  Yes, I need say more.  Notwithstanding the name of the restaurant, there was not one caper in any dish that it served.  Not a single dish, you say?  Not a single dish.  The absence of capers was almost made up for by the plenitude of olives -- almost because as you know nothing really makes up for an absence of capers:

In addition to our hokey pokey distribution rights, Sara and I also acquired the rights to distribute Teza in the US.  I am addicted to Feijoa & Limeblossom and Sara is addicted to Peach & Passionflower.  

Having had our run of religious and near-religious experiences, we checked into the hotel and set off to see what downtown Rotorua was all about.  The city itself is famous for its hot springs, for some other geothermal craziness, and for bungee jumping and rolling downhill in big giant plastic balls (called Zorbs).  In a fit of wild adventurousness in keeping with the city's tradition, we headed for the park to look at and smell flowers.  The park was beautiful with lots of flowers in bloom, a museum, hot springs spas, and various lawn courts (for crochet, lawn bowling, etc.).  Sara kept her low-key approach to things in check even upon learning we did not plan to check out the museum (in the background):

We were told that we should take in one of the cultural dinners while in Rotorua, so we went to a "traditional" Maori village later that night to learn about the Maori culture.  It was actually pretty well done as far as those things go, and we learned a good deal about the Maori and their history in New Zealand.  We also had a bite to eat; like many Polynesian cultures, the Maori cook their food in pits in the ground.

For anyone interested, more pictures can be seen at:  https://picasaweb.google.com/cariboulane/CorrelationsWithCorrugation?authkey=Gv1sRgCOj36Zv19LX9Bg#