Right next door is Kuirau Park. At first glance I'm thinking a visit here will take ten minutes, but I found myself sucked in for over an hour exploring ther thermal pools, mud pots and colorful gardens.

Since Rotorua is a popular tourist destination, I run into a few people I've seen up north. Dominik (more Swiss) who I roomed with in Turanga is here but heading on to go climbing. He had his car stolen with pack and passport inside while touring Australia. The embassy's first attempt to mail him a new passport was lost in the mail. With time running out on his visa and the second replacement passport (sent registered!) long overdue, Dominik begs the post office workers to double check to see if it has arrived. The bureaucrats refuse him three times (sounds like the Chicago post office) before somone consents to check. It is there, with name badly misspelled!

I also run into the nice Belgium couple I met at the Pinnacles Hut. I hitch a ride with them on their way out of town. We stop at the Waimangu Thermal Valley, just near the site of the infamous 1886 volcanic eruption. We hike along a scenic hot stream valley, viewing various pools and terraces, up to a large lake before grabbing a shuttle bus back.

After a quick stop at a large boiling mud pool (we stick a branch in to check out the chalky mud) I bid them farewell near Waiotapu, another thermal park. At first I'm a bit hesitant to shell out another admission fee for more of the same, but I do, and wind up greatly enjoying the colorful and at times surreal landscape here. The area around the Champagne Pool could rival almost any site at Yellowstone and they have some good sulfur caves as well.

I break a cardinal rule of hitchhiking by taking a partial ride towards town, leaving a popular parking area for the anonymonity of the highway. However, I started chatting with these three young Chinese and couldn't resist riding part way with them, rocking to Canto-pop as we speed down the road. I pay for this by getting stuck along Highway 5, which is too fast for people to stop on only one lane. I have to hike a few kilometers up to get to a passing lane. Even there I ride is tough to get but I do eventually succeed. More often than not it is the working class Joe's who give you rides.

The nice young Maori local who gave me a lift seemed even more blase than most concerning the thermal stuff. He told me he lived at the "Waka Thermal Village", which didn't mean anything to me at the time. I wound up going there later and understand his casual attitude towards something that seems so wonderous to me. Some Maori families have inherited the right to live at an ancestral home right next to the Wharaewarewa thermal area, just south of town. They show tourists around and demonstrate traditional crafts, song and dance, and the lifestyle at the thermal village. They use the thermal areas for cooking, cleaning and heating.

While wandering around in here I accidentally (honestly, because I didn't even know there were two parts) got myself into the "Arts and Crafts" side, which is more popular because it is closer to the geysers (can see them from both though) and has a separate admission. I didn't have enough time to examine it properly so I can't say which side is better.

I visited Hells Gate (Tikitere), yet another thermal spot. They have a nice deal where you can get admission to the park, a mud bath, and a soak in their nice hot pools for NZ$40. The clincher for me was that they will pick you up from town for that. The staff here is exceptionally nice.

Most days I have little idea what's in store for me when I wake up. For example, my last day in Rotorua, I decide to head out early, without waiting for breakfast. I toss my shorts in a bag and think about a relaxing soak at the Polynesian Spa. However, while passing the Kiwi Paka office, I'm reminded of a conversation I had the other day with Joe, the Maori Magic minibus driver who took me to Whaka. I'd noticed a forest behind the Thermal Village and Joe said there were redwood trees there and paths that led to the Blue and Green Lakes.

The idea of a leisurely stroll before my soak appeals to me so I ask at reception when Joe is due to swing by next. Turns out he's on his way, so before I know it I'm in the minibus. After dropping me off at the start of the trail Joe says he can pass by here again in six hours. Six hours? OK, I guess I'll hitchhike back. I tell Joe I'll call him if I need him.

After picking up a somewhat confusing map from the visitor's center, I'm happily waling under the shadows of redwood trees. Around the turn of the century the Kiwi's planted a few hundred different types of trees around here to see what could be commercially forested. The redwoods were one of the few to flourish.

Joe had told me to follow the black trail markers to the lakes, so I don't pull out the map until I can't find one. I notice that the estimated hiking time for the black trail is eight hours. OK, since I have no food I won't waste time stopping for lunch (or breakfast) so I should be able to do it in six. Hmm, no water either... six to eight hours... hiking without water... . I ponder this, morning brain working at Homer Simpson speed, and come to the slow realization that this isn't going to be the quick jaunt in the forest I'd been expecting. Reluctantly, I go back to the visitor's center and fill up my water bottle. And you thought I wouldn't keep my promise to be less of a bonehead!

The hike is long, but not difficult. I'm rewarded with marvelous views of the town and lots of great forest that now reminds me of the Lord of the Rings. The Blue Lake is a very nice shade of blue and the sacred Green Lake is... also quite a nice shade of blue. I do hitch back and really, really need the Polynesian Spa and their three different types of mineral pools.