Water is sloshing over my face and body as I lie in the ball's curve, sliding and tumbling around like clothes in a spin cycle. My screams at the unexpected surges and turns reverberate around me in the ball's stuffy interior. I can't see out. Don't know where I'm going. Don't know where the end is. Can't get my bearings. Can't hold down my lunch...
By the time I roll to a gentle stop and emerge, foetus-like, from the ball I'm thrilled. Finally, I've done the world-famous Zorb! And I wasn't sick! Since its inception in the 1990s, the Zorb has been a uniquely, proudly Rotorua attraction. One of an increasing number of adventure activities in the town best known for its mud pools and Maori legends, the Zorb encapsulates the adventurous spirit of Rotorua.And today is all about capturing the spirit of Rotorua: a task easier said than done, for the spirit of Rotorua is everywhere. It's in the activities and the sights; it's in the people and the heritage; it's in the earth and the bush and - most noticeably - in the air.
The crisp, sulphuric air filled my nose as I strolled the edge of Lake Rotorua this morning. In the early cloud, the lake appeared mystical as steam wavered upwards from the cool, glassy surface. Ducks and birds bobbed near the lapping shore, and waddled over volcanically formed rocks.
In the distance, near the centre of this mighty lake I spotted Mokoia Island. This tiny circle of land was the setting for Rotorua's - and probably New Zealand's - most famous love story: The tale of Hinemoa and Tutanekai.A centuries-old legend of forbidden love, rebellion, tribal divergence and romance, Hinemoa and Tutanekai's tale encapsulates the engrossing, enchanting and ever-present Maori history of Rotorua. A history that I can see in the carved swirls of door frames and prominent wooden tiki positioned decoratively throughout the central city; that I can hear in the Maori words floating by me from casual conversations on the street; that I can feel in the gusting, thermal steam, brought to the region long ago by a spiritual leader called Ngatoroirangi, and his whanau (family).
Omnipresent and effervescent, the region's thermal activity is what bubbles to mind when someone says "Rotorua". Wai-O-Tapu Thermal Wonderland, 27km south of Rotorua on the Thermal Explorer Highway, is one of many places to experience the area's explosive thermal landscape. Maori for 'Sacred Waters', Wai-O-Tapu is just that: a burbling, boiling, swirling, steaming, stinking palette of sacred water and mud. The Wai-O-Tapu thermal area is an 18 square km scenic reserve with a 160,000 year old volcanic history. Three kilometres of walking tracks weave in and out of the pools, geysers and craters in amongst thick bush and native birds.Arriving at 10am, I'm awaiting the eruption of the Lady Knox Geyser. Daily, at 10.15am, a Wai-O-Tapu staff member arrives at this feted geyser, pours a soap solution into the geyser's spout (to assist the natural eruption) and, as it slowly foams and spits and bubbles beside him, regales a burgeoning crowd with the geyser's history.
"This geyser was discovered over 100 years ago. At that time, over here to my right," he gestures to a space, where bunches of deep green native bush frame ripples of marbled brown rock, "was an open prison. And it was the prisoners that discovered the geyser's action by doing - of all things - their laundry!" Seated on tiered bleachers, the crowd laughs appreciatively as the guide continues the amusing tale of the prisoners' discovery.
Whilst he talks, spurts of white foam shoot intermittently from the geyser's mouth, increasing in height each time: 10cm; 25cm; 50cm; a metre... "Given that the reservoir underneath me here has a full capacity of water, the initial eruption should be around 15m in height. Hopefully then, the geyser will continue to play at varying heights for the next 45 minutes to an hour." It continues to rise erratically, in a gushing shoot: two metres; three, four, five metres..."It looks like we're pretty close to an eruption, so with that I will excuse myself from this area," says our guide, to a relieved giggle from the crowd.
Moments later, the full vigour of the gushing spout unfolds. It bursts powerfully from beneath the ground in a majestic spray of white water, reaching ever higher. The clicks of cameras reach paparazzi pitch. Tiny, feathery droplets of spray touch my face, whisked along by the breeze. The cloying smell of sulphur whirls through the air.
That smell: It's inescapable in Rotorua. It follows you; churns around you; creeps through air-vents. Even as I slither out from within the Zorb it tickles my nostrils, blending with late afternoon sun and the rural scent of the surrounding farmland.
I race, dripping wet and smiling, from the Zorb to the changing room. A queue of prospective 'Zorbonauts' lines the waiting area, gabbling nervously and firing questions about my Zorb ride. Even after years in operation the zany concept of Zorbing is as popular as ever, and Zorbonauts converge from around the world to roll, one after another, after another, down a grassy slope on a farm in Rotorua.Shivering from the winter wind in my wet hair I follow my nose back to town. It leads me to the lake front and the sprawling Polynesian Spa complex. By now, it's evening and Lake Rotorua is swathed in darkness. From behind the Spa's fence, steam billows up as if from a huge, hidden cauldron. There is a perceptible tranquillity in the air; it dances through the dark with that familiarly pervasive scent of sulphur.
Inside, I make my way to the Adult Pools and Priest Spa - one of four divided areas that make up the Polynesian Spa complex. Warm timber and smooth rocks frame the seven marble-lined pools. In subtle lighting, couples talk in murmurs, others look utterly serene - eyes closed, bodies stretched out and submerged in temperatures up to 42 degrees. As I swan down the smooth steps the hot, soothing water clings to my goose-bumped skin.
I lie back and look out across Lake Rotorua. On the far side, lights twinkle around the bottom of the high grassy hills. I think of my Zorb ride, and the crazy, matchless feeling of rolling down a hill in a plastic ball.In the middle of Lake Rotorua, Mokoia Island peeks out of the water - dark and mysterious. I think of Hinemoa and Tutanekai, how hundreds of years on, their story remains etched in the very being of Rotorua.
As I sink deeper into the pool, I relish that first dip feeling - the heat and therapeutic properties washing over my shoulders. I think of the explosive history of Rotorua; its geysers and hot pools; mud and water; volcanoes and eruptions and now this - calming, therapeutic and enchanting. This, I think to myself, is the spirit of Rotorua.
Amelia visited Rotorua courtesy of Destination Rotorua Tourism Marketing.
Amelia Norman is Content Editor for the New Zealand travel and tourism website www.fourcorners.co.nz.
